Sorry for the late reply, I was fleeing from ice mummies with Bev in Accounts.
Tomb of a lost Reptilian Queen
Joined March 2021
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The email has found me chiselling a vast obsidian scythe from the cold, misshapen hands of the demonic statue. I know it’s marked urgent Sue, but the vengeful Marquis of Hell will wake when the sun sets so I’d better crack on, can you ask Graham to reschedule the meet-and-greet.
The email has found me reminding anyone swimming where the sky is blue that I am there at howtheemailfoundme.bsky.soci… . I know the journey can be perilous, which is why I have asked His Eminence, Cardinal of Voles, to personally send you an escort on board his walnut shell barge.
We interrupt these emails for a missive from the creator’s blog:
‘At the moment, I am content with a good coffee under the questing bees. The little texts from my friends, the sun slinging golden arrows through the crab apple tree.’
thehoursgodsendscom.wordpres…
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The email has found me wrapping up here due to its greasy devolution into a rage to engage puppet show. Come find the new inbox at howtheemailfoundme.bsky.soci…
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The email has found me frantically unchaining Brian from the chair as the air hazes with the taste of tin and the contraption before us emits an electric whine. Management have taken this hot-desking thing way too seriously. Marge is still in the burns unit.
The email has found me dressing for the job I want: Crypt-Keeper. In ragged robes of socket-black, my claw-hand grips a lantern like a lone star in the catacombs. At my waist a purse jingles with ferryman’s coins, my hands wink with corpse rings. I am DBS checked.
The email has found me feeding the princess, cursed by the King’s mage to live in the form of a swan for the crime of falling in love with a common shepherd, now long dead. She drifts across the ponds of the palace gardens like a solitary white spirit, taking bread from my hand.
The email has found me staring in horror at the macabre frieze of severed human limbs, stitched together in impossible poses, their vile artistry moving something in me even as I recoil. It’s very impressive, Tim, but would you mind using a background for this meeting.
The email has found me learning to bring forth the dead from their graves, conjuring twisted spirits at midnight under the blind white eyes of a damned priest. If you have already finished beginner’s necromancy, please remember to pick up your certificates from Martin.
The email has found me laminating another strict No Entry sign for the canteen. The sinkholes are back, pouring forth that tortured screaming, and we all know what happened to Alan. Great news from the hospital though, they say he’s stopped shrieking in an unknown demonic tongue!
The email has found me staring at the spiked swarm of the army as it advances, listening to the brass-throated howl of their horns. The day is clear and fine, as good a day to die as an-oh, is that Trisha’s card on the trebuchet? No, I haven’t signed it yet.
The email has found me talking over the mournful sound of the old piano. No earthly fingers press its keys, but it plays the same childish tune over & over again. Are you sure you can’t move to another room, Tim? Alright, well would you mind popping yourself on mute for a minute.
The email has found me at the village fair, judging the scarecrow competition. Frazier Barnes is tipped to win this year, his creation -coal eyes & sickle hands - is so…Unsettling. Frazier never shows up at the tent. When we search the barn, we find only blood and straw.
