bleakspot

I have a monster living underneath my bed. He’s made up of burnt frog skin, white-red cobweb veined eyes and a collection of missing pebble teeth. Sometimes we play scrabble. (The first time he was just a mechanical hum beneath the bowing wooden planks, he was just a faint smell of green and he was just a hot cloud of fog around my lips. It’s the wind, it’s the wind, I breathed. Then he breathed back, heavy and loud and monster-like; AM NOT.) He always spoke in capitals; MONSTERS ARE MUCH TOO SCARY FOR LOWER-CASED LETTERS, he informed me one night under pink covers. I shined the flashlight into his eyes until they changed co

A most curious thing happened to me after I woke up one day and saw my brother - He was dyed in purple from head to toe, cut off only by his white shirt and jeans. The colour purple peeked out from the slit between the shirt and the jeans; thus I dismissed the slight possibility that it was by some mutation of the sun, unless it spread overnight, for he was of perfect normalcy just the day before. The others were just as peculiar when their figures met my eyes during breakfast, all colours on full display. Even if there were similar colours between them, let us say for example, purple, they were a variation of purple, some so concentrated it