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I am... well, that would be telling. My name is Jack. I live in a place I have let outside London with my dog Snuff right now. Snuff is a watchdog, and he is exceptionally good at his job. Not only does he keep an eye on the Things in the Mirror, the Thing in the Wardrobe, the Thing in the Circle, the Thing in the Steamer Trunk, and the Thing in the Attic, he will fetch things for me before we leave to go out - often before I have told him what to fetch. Snuff is very good at his job.
Our business takes us into town quite frequently, often in search of some unusual ingredients. That's all because there's a bit of business at hand soon. Some of my neighbors are in on it - some on my side, and some working against me. I'm not quite sure who is who yet, though.
Perhaps it were best to take it day by day...
If you've not figured it out, I'm trying this as a tribute to the late Roger Zelazny's wonderful novel A Night in the Lonesome October, which is told from the perspective of Snuff.
Kinks for this particular prompt: B&W Universal Horror films, Victoriana, The Great Detective, Lovecraftiana.
Limits: Destruction of the world, Snuff (both kinds), sexualized gore.
Posted during the weekend, and nothing/nada/crickets in usual fashion. Having been hit by downvote trolls (was floating around on controversial for a bit) doesn't seem to have helped, either.
Thoughts?
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