Author Topic: Puffed Siadin (Read 8322 times)

Fishfinger · « **Reply #90 on:** August 14, 2019, 11:37:52 PM »

Christmas means tradition, and they stake the town vampire with purposeful ceremony. Yet he will rise again in a surly mode and slaughter many children. Puffed Siadin.

Fishfinger · « **Reply #91 on:** August 14, 2019, 11:40:07 PM »

Four pages. It's all he wanted. They didn't have to die. You evil bastards. Sleep now, in bad t-shirts.

Glebe · « **Reply #92 on:** August 17, 2019, 02:45:32 AM »

Puffed Siadin eats a jar of beetroot slices with his hands. Ends up all covered in smelly red juice, like a child.

seepage · « **Reply #93 on:** August 17, 2019, 07:47:11 AM »

After a long and perilous journey across space and time, The King in Yellow finally arrives. The villagers tell him of Puffed Siadin. "Nah mate, I think I'll be off".

cptspalding · « **Reply #94 on:** August 17, 2019, 10:45:05 AM »

Deep in the woods, an old shack with wind chimes made of feather and bones. The oppressive heat helps to magnify a cloying stench. Tarpaulin covering a hole in the ground flutters in a light breeze, offering a glimpse at the collection of unpaired footwear of varying sizes underneath. Inside the darkness of the shack, a figure known to you as Siadin lets out a death-rattle as he harvests drops of bile from one of his subjects. He can only keep them alive like this for so long and it will be soon time to find another.

Glebe · « **Reply #95 on:** August 17, 2019, 06:42:48 PM »

PS dislikes crackers, but he really enjoys cheese on crackers. Even experts haven't figured that one out yet.

Glebe · « **Reply #96 on:** August 18, 2019, 11:54:30 AM »

Having shunned the limelight he once danced in, these days Puffed Siadin prefers the discomfort of his Rhyl hovel, where he enjoys munching garlic bulbs whilst watching Albion Market on VHS.

Fishfinger · « **Reply #97 on:** August 18, 2019, 05:07:09 PM »

He has always been comfortable in his own skin. He just prefers to be in other people's.

Glebe · « **Reply #98 on:** August 19, 2019, 04:03:52 PM »

Puffed Siadin has bits of cheese popcorn wedged in his belly button for years.

Glebe · « **Reply #99 on:** August 20, 2019, 02:24:25 PM »

Puffed Siadin is delighted to discover a DVD of noughties rom-com P.S. I Love You in a Tesco bargain bin. "It's like the film is telling me it is in love with me!" he explains to a dog in the car park.

pancreas · « **Reply #100 on:** August 20, 2019, 02:42:42 PM »

Puffed Siadin gets bored of daisy-chaining flowers and moves onto more gory heights.

Glebe · « **Reply #101 on:** August 21, 2019, 12:57:07 PM »

P-Siad keeps herons inside a bucket down the garden.

Fishfinger · « **Reply #102 on:** August 21, 2019, 07:00:06 PM »

Quote from: Glebe on August 21, 2019, 12:57:07 PM

P-Siad keeps herons inside a bucket down the garden.

It's a roomy bucket. He's not a monster.

Fishfinger · « **Reply #103 on:** August 21, 2019, 07:01:40 PM »

At a recent evening of light entertainment in his honour, the obedient audience were consumed by their own drinks. Police consider the matter 'closed'.

pancreas · « **Reply #104 on:** August 21, 2019, 08:03:32 PM »

The compulsory skin donation programme now means that Puffed Siadin has outgrown Blenheim Palace.

Glebe · « **Reply #105 on:** August 21, 2019, 09:34:38 PM »

PS thinks all gays should be "banned. From Wales, at least."

Fishfinger · « **Reply #106 on:** March 21, 2020, 01:24:12 PM »

He glides through the streets. Gleefully, they say. The cloy. The virus. A moth, flapping in dust.

Your nan's skin as a mask. His eyes burn.

The horses leap whinnying into the quarry.

Puffed Siadin.

Fishfinger · « **Reply #107 on:** March 21, 2020, 05:01:59 PM »

Spiders with human limbs, sneezing. It's all part of the plan. The cloy thickens. The shelves are empty.

Glebe · « **Reply #108 on:** March 22, 2020, 02:00:21 PM »

PS paints his living room "ochre. Nowt else to do with this curfew shite man."

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Author Topic: Puffed Siadin (Read 8322 times)