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 |    A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination. |
 A log of our magnificent journey. |
| As the shadows of nightfall crept across the meadow, Rebecca rose from the rocking chair on her porch and prepared to retire for the night. Suddenly, an eerie sound coming from the nearby forest caught her attention. She knew hearing music in the woods at night was a bad sign, but it was such a pretty tune. Stepping down from the porch, she tried to identify the source. Just like the Pied Piper did in Hamelin with his magic flute, this mystic melody entranced her and led her deeper into the wilderness. As she traversed through the evening mist settling over the trail, she was accosted by a cordon of ghouls, each with the visage of a wolf and talons for hands. They enshrouded her with a tarp and carried her farther along the forest trail. Eventually, they removed the tarp when they arrived at the perimeter of an enclosure, where a group of spectral waifs danced in a circle around a huge vat. The stench of burning sulfur emanating from the bubbling substance in the vat permeated the entire enclosure. Presently, the circle was broken by two of the ghouls carrying a young man writhing and screaming in the grip of their talons. The screaming intensified as they dropped their victim into that vat of boiling fluid. Suddenly, a tall figure cloaked in black appeared beside Rebecca and asked, "Are you ready, my dear? Your turn is next." Quickly, the ghouls' talons tightened against her arms until they pierced the skin. ******************************************** 252 words Prompt: She knew hearing music in the woods at night was a bad sign, but it was such a pretty tune. |
| It's the little things with which we can relate-- the way a robin sings upon the garden gate, the creases in your hand, the pebble in your shoe-- with vision to expand and make poetic stew. |
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