Morbinjaw An Illustrated Novella, currently being written The stars aglow are dreaming things. And when the infant Sun shed away her nightmares like a child sheds discordant tears, her delusions formed a colossal shell all their own. Hark anon, the dreaded name: Skelita Dominica! Black vampiric globe, four Jupiters wide, Skelita Dominica crashes through the cosmic depths, chaperoned forever on by ethereal guides, drinking up the dreaming stars, diminished nightmare husks abandoned in its wake. Deep within its phosphorous shell, enigmatic nations huddle in gloom. Lit only by chemiluminescent clouds, their hearths and flags are championed or abused by a potpourri of preternatural beings: Werewings, Madmods, Batthasia, Mock Cheshires, the Morbinjaw spirits with their mercurial physical essence, the Vampuradas imbibing souls, the Kautrageists festooning the dead with postmortem woe. Through this malady went the Lord of Nostalgia, Felixerfit Fere Fitgable. He was a green eyed ghost, pale and listless, deserving of nothing greater than his few possessions: a black brocade cloth for his back, a black tangled nest for his hair, and the cane sword, Acid Diver, the gentleman’s burden, lighting up his path like a beacon for the weird and the gibbering.
Copyright © 2011 Rosearik Rikki Simons Cover by Rikki and Tavisha Simons