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Essay Archive - Creative Writing: The Nightmare
Creative Writing: The Nightmare
I am the Father of Hell, and my eyes burn bright
in the Mist. Feel my wrath and hear the scrape of
my steely, slashing claws. My teeth are sharp and
I am semi-hungry. Don't let the fact that my
feet are covered with grave dirt bother you as
mine enemies shall never make it to a graveyard.
I am coming, hear my insane laughter echoing off
the crypt walls. I am here. Soon I shall pick my
teeth on a splintered thighbone of one of mine
adversaries. I hate the taste of their flesh rotting
between my teeth. Often when I am sated, I floss
with a hangman's rope and brush with the hair of
a handy corp....
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