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Would you like to hear some murder muzak?

All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim.

"A Strange Correspondence from Shannon Airport??" by Joe DaSmoe
"What I got in my Mailbox this Morning" by Joe Newton
"POSTCARD FROM THE EDGE" by Hadrian X
"Zombie Queen: The latest adventure" by Fionia





The wind roared past me, gushing numerous snowflakes onto my face. The bright sun was restricted to a disappointed dim as the clouds above constricted it with their melancholy vibe. The evergreen trees I once had on my plot of land were now disembodied figures of what once was. The other hobbits were all inside fancying a cup of L'Gong tea as well as decorating their huts with peachy ornaments. But I alas was alone. Alone. Alone.

I was a heretic. In their eyes, my neighbors, friends, family thought I was a puppet. A mere minion to do one's bidding, but they were wrong. The significance of their debauchery was growing, prickling deep under my skin. I gave them time to repent for their foolishness, but who am I one to go against the blindness of hobbit incompetence? Who am I to go against the great, beneficial Frost regime?

For that matter, I was creating a snow feline to dignify what Frost has done for me. He has given me... a purpose. The revolution was almost underway, just a mere day or two before the initial launch, and it would be a way to eliminate all of the people holding us back, neighbors, friends, family. Then they will be the ones who are alone. Alone. Alone.

Was, was I a crazy hobbit? No, no.. no! A crazy hobbit hear no lies. I was not wearing gloves, but gloves are for the ones that cannot handle pain, and that is what I have been living through before Frost came around. I was almost done before the winds stopped blowing. All was quiet now. Not even the sounds of the frolicking hobbits indoors nearby could penetrate my ear drums. Ugh, the sweet feeling of ridding the unneeded hobbits brought a cold smirk to my face, but it was the better for society.



All of a sudden, I could hear a noise in the distance. Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! Was I hearing things from the silence within me? No, impossible! Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! The sound grew louder, cutting through my veins painlessly, frantically. I looked around. Nothing. Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! I feel to the ground; The ice easily caught me in its softness. The silence was making a fool of me. Mocking me. My cold head turned. Back! Forth! Back! Forth! Bam!

No, I knew I was sane. It was not the silence that was irritating me so, but a runaway couch. It occurred ever so quickly that only an image of a bulleting blur appeared in my brain. Thank Frost that I was prone on the ground as that stage couch would have easily thrust through me if I wasn't. Forcing myself up, I limped towards the overturned stage couch. From the looks of the couch, it was traditional, and as such, non-Frost aligned.

I stepped in caution as I was neared the stage couch. I called out once; No response. I tried a second time, but came to the same result. Infuriated, I lashed out into the stage couch, but frankly, it was deserted. Not a soul in sight. The seat was cold, lifeless. Was, was I a crazy hobbit? No, no.. no! A crazy hobbit hear no lies. Shocked, I came out, and there I was alone. Alone. Alone.

From the popped tires of the stage couch was what looked like to be a piece of parchment. A postcard.




If I have to tell you to click the above to enlarge it, you are so not Top Gun.





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Best Regards,

HobbitTon
~Your neighborhood friendly hobbit.~