Make it Cute 1

[Tarieles]

I like scary things. I also like cute things. Well, our good friend Greenie has the scary covered, so why don't we make things just a little more adorable?

I want you to take this spooky image below, and write something that will make me go "awww" and want to vomit rainbows.

Picture of the Week:

Happy Writing!​

 

[PoetLore]

George sat and waited for his love Annabelle to arrive at the train station for their planned elopement. He'd waited a very long time, decades in fact. People had at first tried to get him to move, and give him food. But he'd been steadfast in his devotion. Sadly, poor George died but he could not leave that spot. She would be there, hew as sure of it. The skin fell from his bones but even his skeleton appeared to be calm and smiling. The expensive suit hung loosely on the bony frame, but still held it's dapper appearance for the most part. This lone vigil dragged on day after day and year after year, until finally a little love bird lit upon the shoulder of the jacket and sang a beautiful song. Hearing it, George knew it was his Annabelle and hearing the song the bones shivered and turned to dust as the wind blew the dust and the song into the air together.

 

[Kitti]

Theodore, Teddy they called him, stretched out on the grass beneath the sighing branches of a lone tree. The early spring breeze shook the bright green buds that would soon burst into life and color. He smiled up at the promise of renewal, reflecting on his own life. The world had not been kind to him, as a rule, but there had been those who had.

The woman who took him in and let him sleep in her hay loft with the only blanket that she had to spare and set him to work for his supper. She could act gruff, as though she were being hard making him toil at chores, but the gentleness rang through to him all the same: "I will let you stay, I will give you food."

Before, he had walked the streets aimlessly from place to place. He could not remember how he had come to be, or where he began. All he knew was that he was wrong, terrifying. He had almost given up hope when he wandered past an old farmhouse at the end of one day late in winter. A plump old woman had been crouching down in the snow a stone's throw from the front door of her house. Curious, Teddy had drawn closer only to find that she was stroking a matted and damp-looking cat on the head.

Sensing someone behind her, the woman had stood and turned around. He saw her gaze move from his face, his horrible visage, and expected her to yell or flee or both. She did neither.

"You're soaked through."

Sitting up, Teddy strained his ears. He thought that he had heard something, and he had. From the upper branches of the tree, a tiny golden bird hopped and a sparkling stream of birdsong followed close behind. Mesmerized, Teddy watched its celebration stock still until, to his great surprise, the little merrymaker flitted at last down to perch on his shoulder.

Smiling to it, Teddy felt his spirits soar. This was the beginning of everything.

 

[Doctor Jax]

He was a man of simple pleasures when he was alive, and so he was when he was dead as well. The necromancer who'd raised him hadn't expected him to be quite so friendly, seeing as people who were yanked back into the world of the living typically weren't all that chipper. But, no, Umberto - for that was his name, according to his dog tags - was quite the cheerful fella, and Naomi had no problem getting work out of him. It got to the point that, rather than use her other undead minions, she preferred to work with him instead. He just seemed so terribly eager to please.

Eventually, she asked him why he was so happy to work for her, and he simply answered, "You don't look a gift horse in the mouth, love, and this is a Clydesdale. Heaven were awful boring, I'm afraid."