Did I see a Rocket the other day, sputter, spin, crash and burn? And then out of the ashes on the arid plane emerge a Panic Room with the sound of big predatory cats growling from within its ragged walls?

“Hokey smokes, Rags!” cried Crusader Rabbit balancing precariously upon his gallant steed. “There are big predatory cats within those ragged walls.”

Rags looked longingly at the room.

“We’d better find a less blood chilling adventure,” said the rabbit as he, lance in hand, and followed reluctantly by his loyal companion, rode on, silhouetted, into the sunset.

Meanwhile, Chapter 31, very comfortable in a chair by the fire, has found the food and is content.

Boy! Could we use Jay Ward today!

Hiya, folks. I just came over from the "Inspired By" Forum. Is Grasstains here somewhere? I picked up a couple things for her on the way here...

I think tonights meeting of The Chowder Society is ready to commence...hold your glasses high for the best ghost story...

Glasses full of chowder?

Drunk on chowder, Chapter 31 leans forward in his chair by the fire and listens intently for the Ghost Story…

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone...

Chapter 31 leans back in his chair with a contented smile and listens.

There is a great bed of coals, and I just threw another nice, big, dry log into the wood stove!

fjp, aaaah feels nice! "Funny thing happened to me on the way to the grave..."

"The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm..."

Where did grasstains go? Are we to see no more of our waterbrother? What have we done if anything? What have you done if anything? We shall not beg, we shall not moan, we shall only hope for the best and fare thee well, with a pang in our hearts and a tear in the eye. Is it my imagination or do I feel your being yet lurking these dusty halls like a winter draught through a twilit window? Hope resounds as I hear the dust crash and settle and the embers die.

Our long-time friend Grasstains left in a huff awhile ago, and I'm afraid I was the last to rile her, albeit totally unintentionally. I hope she's in a corner of the Panic Room here and will return. I miss her! I've got the Asti on ice for her, but I'll have to run out for more roses, as these are beginning to wilt...

Should we wait for Grasstains to come back on her own, or take the monkey’s paw from the mantle and wish for her return?

That monkey's paw can only lead to grief!

The voice of experience?

(The fire cast strange shadows on the chowder punch.)