LOO
Once the candle was lit, an aura of iridescent light fell upon the breast of a shadowy figure. Petrified; I said under my breath, who trespasses into my tile heated bathroom unannounced? The silhouette moved closer. I began to tremble on my porcelain throne. The phantom of darkness revealed herself under the skylight. To my surprise, it was one of my estate maidens making preparations to flush my bi-product into the bowels of the plumbing labyrinth. Her finger pressed down on the lever evacuating the waste from the basin of my sovereign seat. Followed by a gentle misting to my underside. She then dried, moisturized, and managed to beat me to the kitchen where she began to prepare a sandwich.
The Houndmaster
The 9 hounds swiftly stampeded off the estate grounds in search of the bastard child. With snouts to the ground, they quickly sniffed out the opposition. Sitting on the bottom step of a hillside cottage lay a wicker basket lined with peat. The hysterical woman abandoned the child. The alpha hound, Adolfo slipped his head into the wicker basket and peered into the baby boy’s green eyes. Growling, Adolfo prepared to mangle the helpless being into oblivion. Then, a high-pitched whistle cut through the dead of night and all the hound’s heads jerked toward the sound. A horse-drawn carriage with a kennel attached to the rear pulled up to the stairs. Dismounting from the wagon was Houndmaster Waldorf Wolfang, an elderly man that in his younger years stood 6’8” tall. Wolfang snapped his fingers and the hounds promptly retreated into the kennel. The Houndmaster walked slowly towards the basket and to his surprise, the child had vanished.
Ex-Lover
Engulfed with jealously, the eloquently-dressed woman glided from banister to banister. Her heels clicked and clacked as she sauntered up the staircase. Once summited, the woman was greeted by a large mahogany door. As she caressed the doorknob, the door opened slightly. She entered the vaulted room quietly. There, standing at the edge of the room, looking out a window with his back turned, stood a well-dressed man. As she cautiously stepped forward, her hand moved to the inside of her thigh. Gripping a dagger dipped in toxic neurotoxin, she moved silently within reach. With a heart of stone, she thrust the dagger into him, stabbing the unsuspecting man. To her surprise, he made not one sound or cry of misery. She turned him around so he could see his assailant and reap the demise of his promiscuous ways. But to her disappointment, she was greeted by nothing more than a faceless mannequin.
My Role: Writer
Co-writer: Jake Collins
Illustrator: designer_pals