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The MurglegrubThe Murglegrub by mmpratt99
Beware Beware the Murglegrub
Which lurks beneath the bed.
He has sharp corners for your toe to stub
And a cunning brain in a pointed head.
He thinks it funny and yuks and yocks
When he gullops down one
Of a pair of your socks.
This sly beast makes his fun
By causing mischief in the house.
In his belly he has a pouch
And moves quietly than a mouse.
He conceals things to make you grouch.
He reads your mind, he hears you think.
As soon as you have a craving
For something--into the pouch quick as a wink,
He puts it and set you raving.
You lost something--a pocketknife.
It’s in the pouch you can bet your life.
Where oh where is the key to the lock?
Why it’s the same place as your sock.
Just set down for a jiffy your book,
The Murglegrub gets it by hook or crook.
Oh me oh my, what’s to be done?
Can the battle with Murglegrub ever be won?
I think not, just try to keep him fed on old socks,
Pencils, envelopes, e
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The Basement of DoomCh. 1--Afterwards
I used to have the same recurring nightmare, especially during the summer months. I was back in that strange basement, wearing that same red dress and gold-beaded scarf. I no longer have that outfit, I got rid of it on advice of a shaman which I’ll tell you about much later. Well, back to my dream. I found myself in that ghastly basement again, in that mirrored hallway. The only difference was that I was behind those long narrow mirrors, slowly walking this long corridor, its plank walls greening with moss and mold, doors and windows broken by vandals.
The boundary between indoors and outdoors no long applied here. There was ivy sprouting from every shattered window, and the ceiling had mostly collapsed into piles of rotting lichened beams and roofing tiles that were themselves slowly being consumed by vegetation.
At first, everything was okay. In spite of all the apparent creepiness, I never felt ill at ease while picking through the ruins of this place. It was a bit like what I imagined exploring some ancient ruins would be...more like you were in a strange kind of nature park rather than a horror movie. Then, like in any horror movie, the atmosphere quickly changed. Bliss unexpectedly gave way to soul-chilling dread.
Rounding a corner (the number of doors between corners varied in a random fashion. There were no numbers on the doors or in the corridors), I was suddenly met by a cold rush of wind. It whistled and hissed through an abysmal landscape of rusty, dilapidated buildings lit by a reddish-purple sky. Cold phosphorescence gleamed from the deep snow drifts.
I gazed at the bleak scene in utter bewilderment. The air was now thick and choking with the smell of petrol fumes and burning ozone.
Movement flicked in my peripheral vision followed shortly by the crunch of snow underfoot. Then my skin began to crawl when They finally emerged from the shadows.
I looked at Them. I pondered Them. I wondered why They keep showing up even after I left that house. Were They still wanting to be my protectors or was there a much sinister reason?
“What do you...?” was as far as I got before the whole scene faded and I was back in my room at the boardinghouse.
To be continued in The Basement of Doom--Ch. 2--An Explanation