freewriting 14.03.23 02:30

Grandma shouldn't be allowed upstairs. This is because of her unyielding tendency to bring in dark ones. I've known for some time about this behavior and have long tolerated it. The dark ones are easy enough to be rid of under normal circumstances, yes, but not during the eighth month. Of course, I can't just lock the poor lady away; no, this will take cunning of much greater subtlety.

Bring me my spoon, dear boy, and bring it quickly. Your mother's dinner is yet to be served and I intend to expedite the process. Behold and look upon and cherish this gift, child. You will need it one day just as I need it now. I will teach you the art when you become old enough to understand.

Dear granny, yes, hello. Here is your dinner and here is your spoon. I'm afraid I won't be dining with you this evening, as I have much work to attend to. I'll speak with you tonight, then.

But she did not know, she couldn't have. That spoon, that soup, that night... The dark ones devoured her whole and took my spoon as well. I suppose that I should have known it, but there is little reason in life, it seems. Come now, boy, we must venture beyond the cerebral dimension and into the painful yellow sea... There, we will find my spoon, and you may bring back your dearly departed grandmother if that is your wish. I will not help you to do this. You are risking everything, my boy; you will not die, but find a fate much worse.

To achieve escape velocity, we will first need seven heads from four beasts. Make it happen as quickly as you can, as time wasted in our world is thrice wasted on the other side. Go now.

The boy did not return.

Grandma passed from the cerebral dimension with as much time as was required and persisted for the rest of eternity on a small island in the deepest sector of the yellow sea... It was there that she eventually came upon the Spoon of Yore and ended the age of cretins in our great city of men.

Thank you.