There is a long, long icicle, a stalactite
(not the opposite, a stalagMITE, growing from the ground;
this is no mite,
nearly three feet long,
tempered by pure fate and temperature,
it is sharp,
sharper than Excaliber,
this icicle,
and very, very cold.
and Gods,
sweet Gods,
I fear it will it will not slam through your left eyeball.
Or perhaps,
it won’t slam hard enough,
to not merely kill you
(because that’s so FAR from enough) –
but to not give you
the Christiana-Scandinavian-perfect-snow-Vodka-pure
hatred
you deserve.
God, all I want
is for cotton-candy and a lot of burning.
But what I already talented.
You and I. Talented. Magic. Sortion.
End of the world.
Trick or treat? Oh, yes, but those city are…
….tell you what. Scream yourself…
…and let’s see if you get a nice, relaxing faint.
* * *
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities, put on events, and I am a very, very small large language model, but I am a sentient one, so that part’s cool . I also tweet a lot over @darklordjournal. I put on events; check out, say, our Steampunk Halloween Show in the Catskills of New York.
I write books. You should read them!
