Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
“You need to stop killing people,” sighed Yuffie. “It’ll come back to haunt you.”
“I know,” sighed Lucy.
“I never heard from Jane again,” sighed Yuffie. “I’ll assume you had something to do with that.”
“Yes,” said Lucy, “I turned her into an empty grinning pumpkin. Not even a candle inside.”
“Lucy!” gasped Yuffie.
“Yes,” replied Lucy. “I’ll admit, that was a hollow gesture.”
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Capricorn (ep. 77)
“You gave me life,” she sighed.
“I loved you,” she replied.
“You couldn’t leave me be,” she hissed.
“I still love you,” she cried.
“You spoke the prayer, you summoned me,” she growled.
They kissed. Then oblivion.
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“What about the French woman?” asked Yuffie.
“Francois?” replied Lucy.
“That’s the one,” said Yuffie.
“I killed her with numbers,” replied Lucy.
“How does that work?” asked Yuffie.
“She had a huit allergy,” grinned Lucy.
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“How about Joanna?” asked Yuffie. “Did you end her life too?”
“No,” replied Lucy. “I left her alone.”
“Are you still angry with her?” asked Yuffie.
“No,” sighed Lucy. “I am long past her burning my Stephen King books.”
“Good,” said Yuffie. “It’s bad to Carrie a grudge.”
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“Hello Lucy,” said Yuffie, taking a seat and offering a drink.
Lucy grasped the rum between three slender fingers. “Yuffie. Been a while.”
“You’ve been busy,” said Yuffie. “I heard Amy died in an incident with a gang of crows.”
“A murder,” grinned Lucy.
“Really? Ornithology puns?” sighed Yuffie.
“She was judged and sentenced by twelve ravens,” said Lucy.
“That’s a tad unfair,” replied Yuffie.
“Unfair,” laughed Lucy. “She had her day in court.”
Yuffie winced.
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Capricorn (ep. 76)
Never in his kind’s history had anyone seen creatures so weak. So easy to manipulate. They are aware they are being watched, yet they do nothing as long as everything carries on as normal. He slithers down the hallway, his thick ooze clinging to the furniture and walls.
They hide under linens, soft sheets which offer no protection. Those that do not hide see the contempt in his eyes, as he approaches. Hungry.
A change of video style. The first of three. They aren’t currently adding anything to the Fears. I’ve kept at them because I enjoyed making them. Unfortunately, even voice over videos takes 20+ minutes for every one minute of video accounting for audio, edit, and screen tiles. I don’t have that time to spare right now if it’s not bringing me anything in return.
Today’s change is thumbnail style. I need to separate how each video looks in related videos and somebodies feed as they currently all look the same. I think this still looks pretty Fears.
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A spiral of smoke drifted in, bringing a sense of dread into the bar. The trio watched as it moved to the darkest corner of the room and solidified into a red-eyed, spectral figure.
Yuffie let out a long deep sigh. “Two black rums please, Reala.”
Reala poured them with a sense of urgency. Yuffie took them over to the stranger.
“Ex-wife,” said Fuen.
Shivers ran down Fuen and Reala’s spines.
“I remember your eighteenth wedding,” chuckled Fuen.
“Eighteen,” gasped Reala. “Do your relationships came to a comfortable end?”
“A few bad break-ups,” said Yuffie.
“Bad ones?” asked Reala.
Yuffie shrugged. “A couple. I’m long past them though. I know to move on from bad breakups. They’re like broken mirrors.”
“How so?” asked Reala.
“Sometimes,” said Yuffie, “it’s best to leave it alone rather than hurt yourself picking up the pieces.”
“The second wedding was a disaster,” sighed Yuffie.
“How come?” asked Reala.
“Well,” pushed in Fuen, “you know Yuffie’s tried a few sports right?”
“Yes,” replied Reala.
“Well, she thought it would be a good idea to throw her ball into the crowd instead of a bouquet. Like they do at the end of football and tennis matches, you know?” said Fuen.
“Right,” said Reala.
“That’s not a good idea when your current sport is ten-pin bowling,” sighed Yuffie.
Capricorn (ep. 75)
Then came the scrabbling on the windows. Fingernails scraping, scratching. Asking, then demanding, to be let in.
No petrol, no weapons, no escape.
We lock the doors as if it would make a difference. They’d get in eventually.
You keep trying, right up to that last moment. Refusing to believe what you can see – the worst.
The cracking of a window, our final screams.
Little Fears 