Snake strikes to inject venom. Victim clutches heart. Drenching evil rain, remorseless, cold, depressing. Merry Christmases to all who have learned to count five, then seven, five. Ponds silent, frogs gone.
Scientists scratch heads and frown.
Something new is wrong. Poet in mirror lip-syncs song of pure terror. Never shave again. Midwinter folding, he finds clothes left from summer, vows to get a grip. Bookstore eyes like moons, seek out thick tomes, mile-long words.