Book of Black Magic E-Book

Karl Heffington

• Herausgeber: DAMIEN R HARRISON publishing
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The Book of Black Magic is the most intricate and dramatic journey. In the enthralling sequel Black Magic Sanction, the courageous protagonist finds herself in a fight to the death against her own kind.
The Book of Black Magic is the most intricate and dramatic journey. In the enthralling sequel Black Magic Sanction, the courageous protagonist finds herself in a fight to the death against her own kind. 
It is one of the most comprehensive overviews of occultism ever written, and it is written by one of the most important personalities in Western occultism, who also compiled a significant number of magical spells and occult texts from a wide variety of sources.

Leseprobe

The Book of Black Magic

By,

Karl Heffington

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Initial Attempt

Section Two

Section Three

Section Fourth.

Section Five

Section Seven

Section Eighth

Section Nine

Section Ten

Section Eleven

Section Twelfth

Section Thirteenth

Section Fourteen

Section Fifteen

Section Sixteenth.

Section Seventeenth

Section Eighteen

Section Nineteenth

Section Twenty

Section Twenty-One

Section Twenty-Two

Section Twenty- Three

Section Twenty- Four

Example of this occurs

Initial Attempt

Griffin Trudeau was due for a nasty awakening; he just didn't know it yet.

Jemma Finnegan banged the car door shut with her rear end after readjusting her corset top and artistically enhancing her cleavage. When she was satisfied that her best qualities were on display, she set off towards the log house hidden amid the tall white trees. She felt like the butterflies that had been living in her stomach for the past hour were stumbling through a performance of the Macarena. This was a path she had trod many times, but never with the goal of courting her dearest friend.

After all, one of them needed to be the one to light the fuse. They felt sexual chemistry, but she knew that if she let Griff decide, her vagina would die.

She could smell oregano and thyme wafting in through the open windows on each side of the front door. Maybe she'd wait until they'd eaten Griff's renowned spaghetti to try to tackle him into bed.

She entered the foyer after giving the door a resounding tap to alert anyone who might be approaching. She was feeling insecure, but a pair of alluring high heels she had recently purchased helped her feel more confident. And they made her little legs look much longer than they actually were. After all, she had to pull out all the stops to have Griff finally chase after her while she was puffing.

She walked into the kitchen, where Griff was hunched over the étagère, and announced, "Lucy, I'm home." Bob Seger was playing softly on the radio. The sable accents in his hair looked especially good under the overhead track lighting, making her want to run her fingers over it. He kept perusing the wine labels, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on her, before selecting a bottle of red wine. She took a deep breath, willing the tantalizing aroma of Griff's cooking to subdue her passion as his muscular shoulders flexed alluringly under his forest-green polo shirt.

"What's up, Jem?" Sorry, I'm out of Chianti. Will you relax your strict standards and have a glass of merlot with me this once? He cocked his head in her way. The look on his face validated every painful twist and turn she'd made to fit into those tiny pants and tight top.

Her smirk of victory was stifled as she rounded the kitchen island in her black patent stiletto heels, which clicked on the hardwood floorboards. She came to a halt before him, bent forward, and thrust her breasts directly into his groin. Is it okay if I go fetch something for you? ”

He didn't reply right away. But he couldn't take his eyes off of her breasts.

Control on the ground, we have made contact. The Wine, Griff? ”

Awakening from his reverie, he handed her the bottle. She kissed his forehead firmly, as she'd done countless times before in exchange for his silent submission. In this case, though, the action also afforded him a breathtaking glimpse of her bare midriff. Hearing his loud gasp, she turned and marched confidently toward the central island, shaking her booty the whole way. She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Griff cry.

She pried open the center drawer and extracted the corkscrew. The gruff tones of Seger's crooning about "Night Moves" and the rising roar of the pasta's bubbles battled with the sounds of his shifting around and the melodious clinking of stemware. The familiar sounds in her environment were both soothing and enticing, contributing to the dense buzz of sexual tension. When she swiveled to look at Griff, she saw his jaw flex involuntarily, and she knew that he, too, could feel the tension between them. She sucked on the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning as she inserted the corkscrew's pointed end into the foil cap of the wine bottle. When asked how the day at the shop went, the question is typically phrased as follows: ”

Griff said, with feigned cynicism but filled with real affection, "Your dad was his regular slave-driver self." He was not only her father's employer, but also a close friend. Something for which she would be forever thankful. If things between her and Griff went beyond the platonic friend zone, she could rest assured that her parents would accept whatever came of it. Oh, my, I hope she wasn't joking. Because of their extreme happiness, they could organize a celebration.

Your father is really fortunate to have you as a son or daughter. No one else in a tool belt can hold a candle to your sexiness or the way you operate that facility. She made it a point to visit Finnegan Hardware at least three times a week for that purpose. Something her cruel cousins delighted in making fun of. She ran a hand over her top's waist while chewing her lip. She was aware of Griff's unwavering interest as he watched her fingers move. Tingles hopped all over her flesh. I haven't heard a word about what I'm wearing from you.

Once again, his attention was drawn to her breasts, and then quickly he looked away. His gravelly voice betrayed him as he said, "You look...different." He then cleared his throat. Perhaps I made a mistake by serving pasta. The last thing I want is for you to accidently get sauce on your white shirt.

Holy cow! Is there a way he could have gotten her attention more effectively? Should I remove it then?" She reached up for the highest eyehook in her top, channeling her inner devilish fox. Griff dropped the glasses, and they landed with a thud on the kitchen counter instead of shattering.

You better believe it's Jesus, Jemma. Stop being so flippant.

If you think I'm kidding, show me the people who think I am.

She touched the frilly frills at the top of the corset with her finger.

Like he was under a spell, Griff followed the movement of her finger. He took a deep breath and forced it out, his Adam's apple bobbing. An alarm from the stove timer startled him. He scurried to the stockpot on the stove and slipped it off the fire as it was boiling, appearing curiously glad by the interruption. As he swore angrily and yanked his hand away, water spilled out of the saucepan.

She ran to him, careful not to fall in the water that had spilled on the floor, and stared at the furious red burn that was growing around his knuckles. “Oh no.”

Just good, thanks.

Grabbing him by the belt loop, she said, "Don't give me that shit, Mr. Macho," and dragged him over to the sink. She turned the water faucet all the way to the freezing point and held his palm under it. The cold water felt like a thousand pins were being thrust into her skin, but she paid it no mind. I need some first aid cream, do you have any?" ”

I'm good, Jemma.

She gestured at the row of barstools in front of the island and said, "Stubborn is more like it." She told him to "sit," and when he grudgingly complied, she switched off the water and raced to the master bath. She carefully avoided a stray towel and pair of workout socks that had gotten away from the hamper. Men. A tube of ointment was found after some digging in the medication drawer. She went back into the kitchen and sat down next to Griff on the bar stool. She unscrewed the tube's top and rubbed a generous amount of cream into the bright crimson blotch on his palm, making sure to be as light and delicate as possible. That's different from the norm. The most of the time, you're the one who saves the day for me. I can't tell you how many times you've come to my rescue without me even having to contact you; I've lost count. To put it another way, he seemed to have a sixth feeling about her.

She laughed at the absurd idea and shrugged. Remember that time I got my finger caught in the doggie door at your house? What a mortifying situation. Show me how to lose my keys!

There was total quiet in response to her comment. The woman looked up and saw Griff's intense concentration on her lips. His dark brown eyes burned with a fervent need. Her adrenaline levels skyrocketed, and she felt dizzy. There will be no other chance. Risk it everything and try something new. She took a stiff posture, and his hand gripped beneath hers. As her blood raced, she reached for the bend of his elbow and gently stroked his forearm, running her fingertips over the tufts of sun-kissed hair that dotted it.

It sounded like a purr, but it came from deep within Griff's chest. Her confidence boosted by his voice, she moved in closer and placed her mouth to his. His breath blew across her lips, and he didn't even flinch. She saw this as a good indication and cranked up the pressure slightly, determined not to waste the opportunity. It's important to take your time and enjoy your first kiss slowly. The fiery, "I want to gobble you up," tongue-wrestling portion of the celebration might be postponed until the morning if necessary.

Griff's lips were tickled by the tip of her tongue. The lips were kissable perfection, strong but supple. With a rumbling grunt that came from the depths of his body, he yanked her off the stool and plopped her onto his lap. The huge erection tenting the fly of his jeans scraped her crotch. Her body jolted with shock. Oh my God, how could she have gone so long without experiencing it!

Alright, enough with the gradual approach. She undulated her hips in a manner that would have done a stripper proud as she massaged along the exquisite length of Griff's shaft. To show his appreciation, he let forth a heavy, agonized sigh. 1 millisecond

A while later, when his mouth slammed into hers, she instinctively opened her mouth wide. He accepted her invitation and slid his tongue inside, hot and eager.

When he kissed her, it was like he was on death row and she was his last meal. His persistent fingers combed through her hair, and she leaned forward to give his probing tongue more access. She parried it back, earning another one of his seductive purrs in exchange. She felt a tight, delicious pain between her thighs as the music tingled over her nerve endings and set off a delectable spiral of fire. She squealed and cried. Within seconds, Griff had his head snapped back, and his breath came out in sharp gasps. Even when his eyes grew dim with regret, he could still feel the raging fervor.

With hands as shaky as his voice, he grabbed Jemma by the hips and tried to pull her back onto the bar stool, where she would be safely out of reach of that tantalizing erection.

Absolutely not! She sat on Griff's lap, pressed her body against the back of the stool, and brushed her kiss over his bristly chin. His long sigh swept past her ear and ruffled her hair. She put her hands on his neck and nuzzled her nose into his soft flesh, her excitement at his delicious musky aroma. Jesus Christ, he smelled delicious. In order to test her hypothesis, she bit at the tight tendon that ran up the side of his neck.

We shouldn't be doing this," he croaked in anguish, desperately.

She cupped his face and gently ran her lips over his in a plea for help. She had anticipated that he would be wary of endangering their ten-year friendship with a fight. The good news is that she wasn't afraid to use the heavy guns when necessary. She retreated, then loosened the corset's eyelets and discarded the garment.

Griff looked at her bare chest with an expression that was equal parts pity and desire. Touch me, Jemma. Please. That's something I'll definitely need. I'm counting on you.

He took a deep breath and relaxed his hold on her hips. After hesitating for a second, his fingers moved higher and lightly touched her belly button. The woman felt a tremor in her stomach. It seemed to take an eternity for his hands to make their way along her rib cage and under her breasts. His thumbs eventually settled on her nipples as he reverently followed their gentle contours. The little touch gave her clit a gluttonous aching. Oh, how much she needed him to put his lips and hands all over her. Now. “Griff—”

His mysteriously alluring stare emerged from behind his mask. He appeared to be a guy on the brink of madness. Similar to a man who was on the verge of stripping her completely naked and f*cking her senseless. She hoped he'd hurry up and finish it already. It's going to take me sucking your nipples until you beg me to make you come, Jemma. Assume, then, that

may I have two seconds of silence?

When he said it that way, I had to agree with him.

Her back arched as he kneaded the weight of her breasts in both hands and then went down to tease her nipple with his tongue. His fangs scratched across her skin, causing a little yet satisfying sting.

He didn't ask a question, just said, "You have sensitive nipples." Her wheezes and groans must have satisfied his need for an explanation. In equal measure, he focused his attention on each breast until its tip was red and swollen, glistening with his saliva. Inquiring minds want to know, "Is your clit as sensitive? She fidgeted in his lap at the question. Griff raised his phallic looking chin to her breasts. What if we were to find out?" ”

She responded, "Oh yeah," her voice trembling with excitement. When she attempted to dismount the stool, he hefted her up onto the island counter. Griff struggled with the button and rasped down the zipper of her pants as she kicked off her heels. She slid her hips forward, making it simpler for him to unbutton her skinny jeans. When her bare flesh touched the cold stone, she shuddered.

We apologize to you, sweetie. Growling, he hooked his fingers into the elastic of her bikini and tugged the piece of crimson silk down. "We should be doing this in the warm comfort of my bed, but I don't have the resolve to wait that long to taste you." Softly and teasely, he touched the insides of her thighs. She was dying to feel his lips on her pussy.

Griff stretched her legs and sat down between him and her, the passionate expression in his eyes suggesting he felt the same way. Pulling her toward the edge of the counter, he slung her legs over his broad shoulders. He dropped his mouth to her crotch and licked along the length of her moist slit before swirling over her firm clit, letting out a sigh of pleasure. Her hips buckled as a harsh and delicious song of feelings shot through her. He slid his palms behind her buttocks and braced her against his active tongue.

She screamed, "Griff...oh God," as she grabbed onto his trembling head. In stark contrast to the hard abrasion of his whiskered jaw, the silken tips of his hair caressed her fingers. Speaking of his tongue. Worse than a nuclear bomb, this is a genuine catastrophe.

For a while, she couldn't believe that Griff was the man who was about to stomp all over her and set off rockets inside her. Still, I had a good impression of it. Perfect. He jerked his head up and aimed a smoky glare at her, his mouth and chin shiny with her blood. Jem, give yourself permission to relax. Here I am, if you want me.

Panting, she slipped her thighs down his clavicle and said, "Trust me, keep doing what you're doing and that'll be a sure."

“He slid a finger inside of her and sucked her clit between his teeth, saying, "Baby, that was only the appetizer." She was reduced to a trembling, wailing mess as he held the tortured stub prisoner to the nimble voraciousness of his tongue. He eased off just as she was on the verge of collapse. Angered, she cried out, and he cracked a grin. Bastard. He slid two fingers down the edge of her labia, dispersed her secretions, and then slid both fingers inside her pussy. As they moved within, her inner walls embraced the visitors.

Griff's chest rumbled with satisfaction as his searching fingers honed in on her G spot. His tongue and lips went back to her clit. The louder, more forceful tone was followed by whirls of his tongue that were as light as a feather.

evil finger pressure, if you will. A delicious baby like you is hard to find. So. Fucking. Griff's rumbling purr vibrated through her body, reassuring her.

She really was out of it.

Her exclamation of "Oh my G—" turned into a frantic squeak. She was suddenly hit with an orgasmic tidal wave. In an instant, it had her cornered, her body arching into a tight bow just before she broke. The tired cliche about reaching for the stars? I'm not talking nonsense here. She was almost positive she had caught sight of a completely different galaxy.

She drifted back to Earth, woozy and limp after her euphoric experience. Griff released his grip and kept lapping away, eliciting more tremors from her body. I mean, holy crap, that man could really talk. She stumbled to her elbows and stared at him with heavy eyes, her body still hungry for more after the bone-melting climax they'd just had. She wouldn't be content until Griff's entire cock had been buried deep into her. A pathetic moan was elicited from her by the mere possibility of him taking her and connecting with her in the most primal of ways.

Say it with me: "Griff, please fuck me."

Their powerful hands shook slightly as they held her hips. Griff paused in his exquisite licking to look at her, his countenance a tangle of uncertainty and want. He leaned back on the stool, lowering his arms. She had a terrifying thought that he was ready to launch into his usual line of argumentation on why they shouldn't do this. The man instead took off his polo shirt. Her lips began to moisten like Pavlov's dogs, and she had to fight the temptation to wipe the saliva off her chin.

She had known Griff for many years but had never seen him without his shirt off. Oh, that's a real downer. That dude was hot. She let her eyes wander over his torso, which consisted of acres of bronzed flesh and rippling muscles. Unlike the rest of his body, his chiseled chest and abs were bare. I was wondering if he shaves his head or just the top. She bit her lip and looked away from his amazing pecs and back to his slacks. It wasn't going to be long before she found out.

Griff's expletive brought her attention back to his face. He buried his fingers in his hair for a moment before letting go with a snarl of frustration. To paraphrase, "I don't have any condoms at home."

Saying, "It's OK. So to speak, I'm taking the pill.

To put it mildly, he frowned. You never said earlier that you were on them.

To demonstrate this, she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I haven't told you about my painful periods and stale days, either. Are you not feeling deprived? Do you want me to pull those jeans off you, or do you want to take them off on your own? ”

Her idea piqued his interest, but he removed his footwear and pants independently. Lucky for her, because that meant she could relax and enjoy the show without having to do anything. His body was clearly the result of his regular visits to the gym. Maybe she should have accepted his offer to train together after all. All these years, she might have come here and admired his bare, sweaty physique. Instead of staring at his ripped calf muscles, she focused on the stunning internal genitalia between his thighs. I guess that settles it; she has her response. That sequoia of a cock had well trimmed russet hedges on either side. It's shocking how many men don't get the allure of well-executed manscaping.

“You have my dick in your sights.

"I know. I can feel myself imagining it already."

Griping, Griff kicked his jeans to the side. Do not use your imagination, baby. In only five seconds, it will be all yours.

He nuzzled between her legs after moving the stool out of the way. She surprised him by reaching down and stroking his cock. She maintained her careful examination of the solid shaft she was holding despite his quick breath. She pounded on it vigorously, enjoying the smooth steel under her knuckles. His cock was pulsating against her fingertips, and he jerked.

As his head sagged, the tense muscles in his neck were exposed. While he did so, a frantic rush of breath from his mouth as he licked his lips. If you continue behaving that way, I won't be around for you to visit again.

“Sorry. When he saw how glad Stan was to see me, his mouth twitched. Saying, "You've called my dick Stan? ”

“What? An excellent choice of name, Stan. Sincere and diligent. An honest and upright person," she crinkled her brows, emphasizing the latter.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?”

“She thought, "Hmm, I have an idea..." and then she slid forward on the counter until her pussy touched the top of his cock. Both of them moaned as they made silky contact. She proceeded toward the plump, round top, exploring the conspicuous, hard veins of his shaft. She ran the smooth gland up and down her slit as a self-teaser. Griff took over on the fourth try, expanding her slick folds just enough to slip into her entrance.

I adore this version of you. Completely wet and open for me to use.

She couldn't stand hearing Griff's words spoken in that husky low growl. She drew him closer by hooking her ankles behind his ripped a**. After receiving this cue, he began to move his hips. His big a** thrust even more. Taking her to the max. Terrorizing her by torching her nerves.

Another passionate kiss later, he had claimed her mouth and was lodging to the hilt, his thumb skimming over her clit. The dam broke and she completely lost it. She gripped onto him, her claws sinking into his biceps, as a surge of pleasure swept over her. As the jolt of electricity shot through her body, it tingled her spine. After Griff's lips absorbed her screams, she shook as an orgasmic explosion within her rocked the room. She heard the clattering of silverware in the island's cabinets, but only faintly at first.

She grabbed to Griff as she screamed, "Holy crap, the place really is shaking," before bursting out laughing. Was that any surprise to you? And just as she was ready to have the most incredible sex experience of her life with Griff, a blasted earthquake hit.

As quickly as she had thought it, the terrifying rattling ceased. Griff was gazing at the counter when she released her death grasp on him.

The speaker says, "That was rather unusual."

She gave his nipple a friendly nudge and a grin. I hope you mean the quake and not the idea of making out with me.

He seemed to relax a little. He leaned up close and lightly kissed her. Making love to you is like living a fairytale. Stunningly beautiful, in fact.

Griffin's seductive sigh of pleasure ignited a fresh surge of need. While she was shifting on the island, she realized that his cock was still firmly embedded in her. Either he had not yet arrived, or his recuperation time was the fastest ever recorded. In any case, she wasn't about to let that amazing erection go to waste. She encircled his neck, her arms dangling freely, and her teeth sank into his jaw. "Mm, exquisite is tasty. Are you ready to take things to the next level of incredible? ”

Griff started to say something, but the pounding drums of "Back in Black" by AC/DC interrupted him on his cell phone. His upper back stiffened and his shoulders strained. She knew she only had two seconds left to kiss her way down his sternum and circle the dark areola, outlining his nipple with her tongue before she lost her chance at another earth-shattering climax. A woman has to learn to play rough sometimes.

Griff slid out of her with a raspy sigh and bent down to answer his ringing phone. She ran her hand between her legs and swished her clit with her fingertip. Griff's nostrils puffed up as he let out a brisk, gruff breath. He yanked up the center drawer of the island, put his mobile in there, and slammed the drawer shut before he forced her onto his cock.

As Griffin sat there, he heard the gentle buzz of the fan blades whipping the air above him. He dreamed of the lady he'd loved and sought for as long as he could remember while she slept peacefully in his arms. He had finally exhausted her. Making love to Jemma as if it were the final time had exhausted him. Too bad it was probably all true.

He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, ran his hands over his hair, and got out of bed. Before leaving towards the kitchen, he took a quick look back to make sure he hadn't startled her. He ambled up to the island and pulled out his phone. He activated the screen's illumination by touching it. Thirty-three calls went unanswered.

Oh, well. He knew all the calls were coming from Clarissa without even looking at the caller ID. The golden rule of not having sex with Jemma had been breached. As expected, repercussions would be severe.

He hung up the phone and went back to bed as a wave of exhaustion crashed over his heart like a two-ton anchor. He got in alongside Jemma. With a yawn, she rolled over and snuggled closer to him. I'm sorry I've been away.

He brushed away a strand of her strawberry blonde hair and planted a passionate kiss on her forehead, his chest tightening with the weight of the secrets he couldn't share with her. It was very forbidden to experience any emotion. Just two minutes passed while I was absent.

Two minutes too long, she said as she nuzzled his collarbone and began a tempting descent to his belly. Once she got to his scrotum, he was nothing but a writhing mess of tormented nerve ends. Her lips was warm and slick, engulfing his shaft with suction that would have made a Hoover green with envy. A yawn escaped his lips as his head hit the pillow and his eyelids rolled back.

The gates of hell can wait till tomorrow.

Section Two

I'm out of coffee and I don't have any at home.

Jemma opened her one eye and stared groggily at Griff. In other words, "no condoms. A cup of coffee is not being served. Who do you think you are, some kind of bachelor who likes to party? ”

He bent down and gave her a little peck behind the neck. As in, "the sort who makes plans for you when I come back."

She aimed a questioning gaze at him and he took the bait. I hope that cleaning the bathroom isn't part of these plans. I won't be fooled by your cunning again.

Griff's attempt at an innocent expression fell flat. “What? A situation of extreme urgency, as I had warned, has arisen.

There was no pressing need for my cousins to come over and play poker.

He laughed and rolled off the bed. Stay where you are. Within the next twenty minutes, I will be returning. As at that time, you should have discarded the T-shirt.

The thrill of anticipation ran through her veins. I had no idea Griff was that hot and demanding. To her delight, she had a glimpse of his well-defined buns before he covered them up with his worn trousers. He threw on a gray T-shirt to cover his shoulders and walked out. She buried her face in the blankets and sighed contentedly as she drifted off to sleep.

Several minutes later, her own snort jolted her out of a pleasant slumber. It's a good thing Griff wasn't there.

She had a hard time keeping up her sex-goddess persona when her voice sounded like a foghorn.

She moaned when she heard the crunch of footsteps on the carpet. "Oh crap, you're home," she said with a smirk, remembering that she had disobeyed his previous instruction and wriggling her butt under the blankets. "You'll be glad to know that I didn't lose your shirt. Spanking me, I take it? ”

She knew Griff was still there even if he didn't respond. They were breathing very quietly, and she could hear it. Loudly. Unless he was practicing his obscene phone calling talents, he was badly out of breath. Her nose wrinkled up when an acrid smell reached her olfactory nerves. That can't be the coffee, man; it smells like something dead dropped in there.

She rolled over onto her side and looked over at the entrance. A few feet away, on the bedroom carpet, her uncle Harold stood in a puddle of muddy rainfall.

It was really strange, to say the least, considering that he had been deceased for sixteen months. Clearly startled, she batted her eyelids. "Okay, this has to be the oddest dream I've ever had," the dreamer said. The rain that dripped off of Harold's terrible comb-over was hauntingly convincing, too.

There was a wet squish as one wingtip stamped ahead in the muck. Her flesh crawled with fear as Harold's opaque eyes fixed on her with malice. If this were for real, I'd be in the bathroom right about now.

She decided it was high time she get up and moving, so she gave herself a sharp squeeze on the arm and yelped at the pain. She gasped in shock, "Holy s*&*, I am awake," but she couldn't move. Obviously, this was not occurring for real. Just kidding; it was true. Dead Harold was not a fabrication of her mind.

Her pupils dilated as she watched the dead body limp toward her. She felt a flurry of terror and worry as memories of her uncle teaching her to play his old Gibson guitar and sing along to Otis Redding's "Dock of the Bay" surfaced in her mind. At Harold's burial service, she sang the song in his honor, convinced that he was listening from beyond the grave with a great grin on his face.

However, his smile had vanished. His face had the most menacing look she had ever seen. She took a deep breath and fought desperately to calm the sudden return of her dread. Yes, that was Harold we were talking about. He's so kind that he wouldn't harm a fly.

Harold rushed forward, his pale, waxy face contorting with hideous malice. Fingers as long as arms swatted the air a few inches from her head. “Graw.”

After watching enough zombie movies, she knew that graw meant something like, "Hmmm, which of your delectable appendages shall I feast on first?" She gurgled a weak cry as she fought to get away from her uncle's flailing arms and the blanket that was trapping her. When she was finally able to get under the covers without falling over, she rolled off the bed and squatted down next to the wardrobe. She squirmed to the edge of the bed and peered under the sagging cover. That's right, the only way out is now blocked by a loved one who has since passed away.

Her heart was thumping in her ears as she weighed her alternatives. The only option that made any sense was to get the hell out of there while she still had all her body parts. Therefore, it was necessary for her to have a weapon. She crouched low on the ground and looked around cautiously. A piece of workout gear on the other side of the dresser drew her attention. She couldn't believe she was considering using a ThighBlaster as a self-defense weapon. A greater portion of the population pondered the absurdity of Griff's ThighBlaster ownership. To put it mildly, she would have to give him the shit about it.

In the event that she survived long enough. Of course, it wasn't going to happen unless she got out of her pitiful hiding place and dragged her as over to the dresser. This was easier said than done, given the state of her obstinate toes, which were presently welded to the carpet.