A Morning From Hell

‘Twas the night of the full moon, the second day and the fifth hour after all hollow’s eve. And satan arose from the fiery grave, seeking vengeance on the two normally rather well-behaved children. He pulled them close and breathed the sinister smoke of darkness into their souls that they might wail, gnash their teeth, and speak evil of those who provide them with sustenance.
And they became the children of the devil with their wining, complaining, and huge tantrums over stupid shit.
And the only magic that could cure them; the only light at the the end of the obscure and dank tunnel was contained in a small and insignificant satchel marked with the forbidden letters. The letters the children dared not speak lest their parents sink into a depressive rage of expletives and send them to rot forever in their personal chambers. The letters that strike terror into any caretaker. The letters created by the devil himself for the torture and suffering of mankind.

But the only letters that would could calm a psychotic and childish soul at such an early hour of morn.


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