Monica suppressed a scream as she stared into Maxwell’s eyes. What she saw reflecting back to her from those glowing orbs was her own personal vision of Hell. Impossible to describe to anybody else, Monica recognized it as her own. She felt trapped, locked into position, almost frozen solid.
“Go ahead and scream,” said Max. “It might make you feel better.”
#Ragtag Daily Prompts #RDP #Scream
“That’s impossible, Monica!” Said Karl to his wife, the Mrs. Snapjaw. He put the highball to his lips and swallowed its contents in a vain attempt to clear his head. He could feel the scotch burning its way to his belly.
“But it’s true, Karl! It’s true! I’m not saying his lips move, or anything like that, but he gets into my head somehow and I hear him. I hear his voice. I’d recognize it anywhere.” She gazed sideways at Max and then whispered, “It’s kind of effeminate.”
“That cat? That cat right there?” Karl pointed at Max. “He speaks to you? And just what exactly does he say?”
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Sunday Ragtag Daily Prompt: Corruption
Mrs. Monica Snapjaw stared intently into the brew that filled her crystal punch bowl. Murmuring words from a forgotten, distant past, she inhaled deeply. The odor of the mixture was that of sweetness and corruption. Arms akimbo, she leaned more closely to the surface in order to see her reflection. When she exhaled, her image broke into an infinity of circles.
Envisioning the horror that she hoped to invoke, Monica cried out in a hoarse voice, “So mote it be!”
#Ragtag Daily Prompts #RDP #Corruption