|
|
Post by ♥Picasso on Jan 1, 2012 16:51:31 GMT
The cat was furred with the dying sun, and had beautiful summer fields as eyes.
-Aberdeen in `on melancholy hill
"Hamish sighed in relief as he straightened up, kicking dirt over his excrement. He felt so much better now. Maybe that had been the reason he had been so nervous before. . . But no."
-Hamish
The black tom stared around a bit and spoke to the air, in a bizarre and very fake bass voice.
"Oh, hello mister. This kind lady is in search of a person of the digging persuasion, or a gravekeeper. Would you be one of them?"
He grinned again, voice changing pitch into a falsetto squeak.
"Well, I am actually a mortician, which is not exactly the same.."
- Rumor, in the grave-digger's handbook
Voting closed 3rd January.
|
|
