Here’s a creepy Christmas tale – what makes it so sinister is that you can clearly see it happening in the world.
Not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but far too soon for comfort, nonetheless.
Not ideal. I had to be a bit social and accept free booze under duress today. Still, the basic premise is there with hints of Panoptica’s life.
There will be errors still. I think I caught most of them.
Too late for Christmas unless some parts of America still have it, but anyway, it’s not for this year. This is a portent of Christmas Yet to Come.
Hope it’s worth it… I’m afraid I am now very, very drunk…
For whom the bells jingle.
“I’m cold, Mummy.”
Dawn looked down at her daughter. “Shush, Willow. It’s only for a few more minutes. Stay silent and respect the trees.”
It was hard enough for Dawn to endure an hour of tree-respect while the snow fell around them. Willow was only seven. She must be freezing by now.
It had never made any real sense anyway. Why go out to the trees…
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The Tempest and the Teapot 