It's starts, not with a bang, but with my whimpers

The dreaded bout of the cold reached the shores of Fort Petersham. Every hacking cough spiraled down the stairs, reverberating the walls. Illness lingered in the air, the barely warm rooms comforting the patients within. Their bodies shake as spluttering and sneezing grip them tightly, squeezing what air remains in their lungs before they collapse, exhausted from the exertion.

It'll be a long, winter's night.

I sit here, cocooned in my elegant, purple and white polka dotted robe, stylish, pink tartan pajama pants, penning the events that are to come. And by events I mean musings on this here very blog. Every week you, dear reader, will receive three posts.

For it was on Mondays that she did decree, "Let there be piecemeal horror! Give them just enough. Small bits and pieces for them to collect. Make them cringe, make them huddle behind their monitors, render them gibbering wrecks! Actually no, just make it mildly interesting."

For it was on Tuesdays that she did decree, "Buggar that! I got things to do!"

For it was on Wednesdays that she did decree, "Look upon the work of illustration. A dark, twisted detective story; from script to page. Told by one and shown by the other. A narrative woven on a cold, winter's night."

For it was on Thursdays that she did decree, "I SHALL RANT!"

For it was on Fridays that she did decree, "Too tired..."

And weekends I have off :P

So join me on Monday for the first installment of Piecemeal Terror.








(I think I am running out of Strepsils....)