Lady Prose and the Flame Lord Go To the Poconos
aka Blair Witch Project III (the lost film)
The blood red moon foretold great evil in the woods that night. With fire in their hearts they set up camp. More specifically, Lady Prose set-up camp to the soundtrack of the Flame Lord's clickety clacking on the keyboard. Click clack. Click clack. Clickety clack. Click clack. The slightly off-beat rhythm of a white man. Figures he would type like he dances.
She shook the smile from her lips but couldn't keep the shine out of her eyes. "Flame Lord, I summon you to the fire pit!" Click clack. Click clack. Clickety clack. Crackety crack. Although he was shrouded in darkness, that last crackety crack betrayed his approach. "Yes milady?"
"Start the fire, won't you?"
"It won't keep the beast away, you know."
"I'm not scared of any beast. I have some poetry I would like to burn. Also, I have some marshmallows."
"How big do you want it?"
"As big as you can get it." The Flame Lord swallowed his "that's what she said" and proceeded to build the fire. Lady Prose wandered over to the typewriter and let her fingers dance over the keys. Before she knew it, she had a new poem to burn.
Suddenly, the woods became eerily silent. The fire crackled and the night air picked up and began to howl around her, though nary a leaf rustled. A purple bucket was placed at her feet. TheWolfeDen. Of course. Lady Prose caught the glint of the guillotine blade in the firelight and immediately knew she was not going to be invited to brunch next.
The wind shifted and revealed the presence of putski, thePearl and Shells ready to witness the execution. "Any final words?" TheWolfeDen intoned in strangely sultry timbre.
"Let me just change into something more comfortable."