“It can’t be the road to the afterlife,” called Sprite as he chased after Spectre.
Spectre was already across the road and marching through a cornfield. “What the heck?”
As Sprite caught up, he saw Spectre standing on another road. Spectre was looking at a line of plastic dolls. They led to a pile of coal with an iron grate on top.
“The snail?” asked Spectre. “What’s he up to nowadays?”
“He’s homeless,” replied Sprite. “He got evicted from his shell by a slimy landlord.”
“Oh, man, poor guy,” remarked Spectre. “How’s he taken it?”
“Better than expected,” said Sprite. “But he’s feeling a little sluggish.”
Alas, poor Alfred. Another illustration from the missus. Everybody loves her previous art here, so once again, she gets tapped for a drawing. You can check her art out and say hello to her on Twatter at @DonnaMStrachan and you can nobble her art prints from Society6 and you can buy her a cuppa on Ko-fi.
Meria kicked the
pub’s door open and dragged her haul inside.
“Well, this is
grim,” chuckled Lucy flicking the light switch. “Bulbs have
gone?”
“Times are hard
here,” sighed Meria. “There’s no money on this island and the
electricity abandoned the supply years ago.”
“Well,” smirked
Lucy, “these are dark times
Shout out to Kathy of Kathy of London for new patronage this morning. You’ll find photography, poetry and pecking birds on her blog, so if you fancy any of the above, give her a visit. Cheers, Kat!
Little Fears 