Beware the Jabberwock

You know, it's rather annoying when you're living in a cemetary and no zombies deign to make an appearance at your summoning of the dead two nights after the full moon. Okay, they would have been living skeletons by now, it's been half a century since anyone was buried here, but whatever. All that blood. And wax. And I spent ages digging for the right red thread. Maybe the moon should have been gibbous? Right now it's... anti-gibbous. What do you call it when the moon wanes, anyway?

Ah well. I can always use the leftover candles for the lair. They give it a good cavernous feel. Though I should probably turn off the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack already. Combined with the underground bunker and the candles and my electric guitar, it's starting to border on cheesy. I'm hoping that the blood and guts offset it a bit. Enough clear nailpolish sets anything in place.

My claws are feeling cramped. I think I'll go out and rip into something. Someone. Same difference.

down the rabbit hole