SORRY FOR the lateness. 

SORRY FOR the lateness. 

Bo watched the movement of the stranger’s feet that brought up the  bag and Bo instantly recognized a familiar hand to it. It was enough  to bring a grin to the monster’s face as he noticed the details and materials that made up his golf bag. It reminded Bo of the statues of children’s bones and their skins that hung in his Trophy room. 

   “Marvelous design there. I’d say your ex’s contributed well.          Lost all in the divorce, huh?”

Bo walked over to admire the handiwork and he instantly knew he  might have found a kin companion. So rare and so few, with one Pennywise the Clown and a Wendigo by the name of Hannibal being the others who gained that sense of familiarity. 

“She did compensate very well, though she never   had much to start with. It was a shame though,   and it was going so swell. ”

A SECOND bag was kicked up, for his new partner. Someone with taste and sense. A monster he was, but oh, how well he did love his family. It was hard being a father; the man of the house. He had seen it in pictures. The perfect family. Girls with poodle skirts, and boys growing up to be like their father.  

A thick eyebrow ridge was raised and Bo’s eyes focused towards the

other shadow being. Bo knew that scent. It was smokey and ashen,  like a world devoid of water. There was also a sense of familiarity to it, as well. Enough familiarity that Bo’s form shimmered slightly to retract from the Monstrous form and place forth his more humanoid tone. 

    “A golf partner, hm?          Want to play a few rounds?”

BEAUTIFUL skin of a mortal, but twice the ugly inside. As if he was merely wearing the flesh of a human. It was his own as all grotesque shadows had harbored inside; to hide from the light.

HIS SHIMMERING shoes dug into the soil and kicked from the black hole a bag of clubs. The strange obscurity in its design  only shows a skin-like material and slightly twisted clubs of white.

    “I take it you’re ‘passing through’?        Or whatever lame ass excuse you’re going to shoot my way?”

———❝alright, listen here. i’m going to let you off the hook         this time but you’re gonna have to OWE me for ditching.❞

———❝you can’t be serious! you don’t even own a watch.                  now who exactly were you calling a wimp again?❞

RP partner: (writes fantastic starter with intricate dialog and plot settings)

———❝is that the best jab you got? honestly i’d like YOU see you try it.❞

———❝i’m really no good at tongue twisters,      i already told you. you can’t make me say it.❞

’ ｉ ａｍ ｂｅｙｏｎｄ ｈｅｌｐｉｎｇ . ｉ ａｍ ｄａｒｋｎｅｓｓ    ａｎｄ ｗｒｏｔｈ ａｎｄ ｔｅｒｒｏｒ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｐｉｔｃｈ ;  ｉ ａｍ ｐｉｔｈ ｆｌａｍｅ ａｎｄ ｔｈｅ ｆｉｒｅｓ ｏｆ ｒｅｖｅｎｇｅ ａｎｄ ｖｅｎｇｅａｎｃｅ . ｄｏ ｎｏｔ       ｈｅｌｐ ｏｎｅ ｗｈｏ ｄｏｅｓ ｎｏｔ ｓｅｅｋ ｉｔ . ’

      he is WREATHED in terror and suppresses it more upon the one who   inspires wroth and FLAME . igneous is his temperature , already charged into peerless MALICE and violence . shouldering weight that sunk his     frame into a FERAL drop of posture , as though a beast upon its hackles    that strove not from FEAR , but in that he is a sublime horror that tremored throughout and drove sanity so deeply into DARKNESS that it could not breathe , but could     not die . this was his DARKNESS . it suffocated and staunched breath so   that one could not BREATHE , and it drove the body into such epitomes of terror that the waking mind could NOT comprehend , quickening pulse and    arresting thoughts in this TERRIFIC not-death that did not kill . this is what       drove towards them , SAURON’S paces crossing and moving sidelong   about the new one , not of NIGHTMARE , but the contention between such monstrous apparitions . MALICE and malevolence and evil was he . the maw     was met with a RAISED retort of inferno and hell flame , bombasting against  it with a DARTH and drain that it might not last beneath his crippling pith .

“Do not abandon those who seek you, as fate has   carried your feet unknowingly to me. black sheep   is still sheep, and those who deny are in denial. A   madman only sees themselves as sane, as you   see yourself as udesiring of guidance.”

A LACK OF physiognomy was the only barrier that distinguished  predictable response, but motions had its own subtle hints to provide its sour enjoyment. Nathless, optics acted as its enemy by the oxymoron of flame and darkness, shriveling black mist  away as breeze. Yet, it seemed to act as a condensation, seeping into the ground rapidly, where corpses found the best kind of  blackness. 

THEN, with action of distance, seeped the soil away a single large  amount beneath the other’s feet, deep and large enough to drop to the entrance of hades. Hoping to overlay the surface with a thick shadow if fallen deep enough and return the heavy loam back where it came from. With additional bones to dust.