Stalky's Nightmare 6: Splattered


Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?

Story is marked as mature.

She sounded flutelike and echoey due to the hollow head that covered her damaged, slightly mushy one. If she had tried to rise, she probably would have fallen to pieces. Precious fluid was seeping into the pine floor, long overdue for a polish. She was in a bad way. It was, all in all, a heavy bout of damage already.

But Robenstein was well beyond reason now, past rage at Stalky's refusal to get up. He stooped over her ruined form, towering, more than twice as tall as her if she'd been standing up, which was of course beyond her now. "Heavy, is it?" he demanded. Forgetting everything but his wrath, Robenstein seized the mask, roughly ripping it off Stalky's softened head. For him, the cartoonish mouse head (its red, oversized bow that had one of its corners chipped off) was no more than unwieldy, especially in his excitement. "It's not so heavy, you lazy wretch!"

Down came his arm onto Stalky's face-down torso with a swinging, sweeping swoosh that could almost be felt.

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Inspired by (sequel to):

The face of the mask was ruined, of course, too, and steeped in sap. There was little hope it could …

Stalky's Nightmare 5: A Tough Break

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