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Posted by Katrina on Jul 18, 2012 13:04:22 GMT -6
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Nov 16, 2013 12:00:06 GMT -6
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Saturday Morning: Katrina woke up Saturday morning with sheets trying to strangle her. It took a few minutes of struggling for her to escape the threadbare linen demons the clung to her hair and hands and got themselves tangled up between her legs. The illusionist called them something that wasn't very polite, but since they were only a figment of her imagination anyway, she didn't think anyone would mind her language. Finally upright she took a cursory glance around the room to see what other phantoms would be haunting her today. Skeletal faces grinned knowingly at her from between the rib-like rafters. Shadowfolk with tiny eyes that blinked open and shut all over their amorphous bodies made crude gestures from any spot where the bright sunlight couldn't directly touch them. Her rug opened it's giant mouth and licked it's lips; from her angle Katrina could see all the way down it's throat into the pits of hell where demons slaved away to build what she could only assume was a device designed to torture for all eternity any souls that were unlucky enough or immoral enough to earn themselves a one way ticket down to the pit. A big grey Irish Wolfhound lounged on her bed, oblivious to the linen monster's designs to pin him down. The sight of him made Katrina smile and she reached out a hand to scratch his chin. Her fingertips went through the phantom dog, but as she wriggled them she could feel his fur, as real as anything else in her room. The dog sighed contentedly. Saturday mornings were strange, but Friday nights were so worth it. (Continued in [AoS] History Lives)
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