Boyd opened his jacket half-way and pulled a gun out of the inside pocket. It was a pistol, all black with a dull shine.
“Where'd you get that?” said Reg.
“Found it. At the landfill.” Boyd looked at the ground. “It was just lying there.”
“Can I hold it?” I said.
It isn't just a room monster. A room monster is made of shadows that look really scary, but when you turn on the lights, it disappears. Room monsters don't usually have eyes and they hardly ever move. This is a real monster. It's got two eyes that glow in the dark, and I saw it move.
We passed the peasant wobbling along the forest lane with his cart. When he saw me, he raised a hand in greeting and started to speak. Then he saw Gwenevere's tears, and he stopped wobbling.
As she tied the red banner to the point of my lance, Gwenevere said, “Lancelot, most noble of all the knights of the Round Table, this is my heart; I give it to you.”
“Give up, Malegant! I am the best fighter of all the knights of the Round Table.”
“You are only the best until you are bested by another,” he said as he raised the point of his lance high.
Malegant and I faced each other across the field, two mounted knights in armor and shield, lances at the ready. Gwenevere waved the red banner from the window at the top of the tower. The wind blew heavy clouds across a dark sky...
She said I had to be nice to her doll, because one time my big brother ripped Barbie's head off. Dolls and action figures are like that. Their heads turn from side to side, and you can rip them straight off. It's easy to stick them back on again, but ripping their heads off isn't a nice thing to do.
It was a rainy day in May, so I had to play inside. Granddad and I were playing make-believe with my action figures on the floor of Granddad's study.... I liked to play make-believe with Granddad. He let me make believe whatever I wanted, and he talked for other people in the game, like the peasant who said he owed me a favor for helping him.
The tailed star was an inconstant visitor to the world. It was a star that grew brighter then dimmer, as it came and went, over a variable period of years. Behind it trailed a flame, violet in hue, the color of periwinkle. Its approach brought the tides higher and higher, year by year, until it shone even in the day-lit sky, and the seas lapped the land.
The hippies, the hepcats, the freaks, the heads, the hipsters—they all loved it, because it allowed them to ignore their bodies and the physical world entirely, while they sought metaphysical bliss. Dealers loved it, because it was inexpensive and addictive.