Fiddler on the Hill

When I was 13, I took up guitar, with my first instrument being a crappy red Fender. I picked it up quickly, taking lessons once a week from a rowdy yet friendly evangelist (who totally didn't mind me being an agnostic). I even had a band in high school, though we played less music than we did sit around and talk. I eventually got a really nice Jackson, with mother-of-pearl inlay on the frets and a beautiful purple and green paint job. As time went by, I was able to teach myself and became pretty good, able to play more complicated riffs and guitar solos.

And yesterday, I sold that guitar to a pawn shop for $150 so I could buy a violin.

Admittedly, I haven't played guitar in a few years now. Looking around, almost everyone knows how to play to some degree. In actuality, guitar is one of the easiest instruments to learn. You don't even really need a teacher; it's an instrument you can teach yourself from the get-go and master in a few years. You can play a halfway decent sounding song with a few chords. You don't even need to know how to read sheet music in order to play it (I don't, I just read tablature).

Secretly, while I was playing guitar, I pined to learn the fiddle. Sounds completely retarded, but the reason behind this was because of a video game. While playing Civilization: Call to Power, one of my favorite songs that was featured in the soundtrack was Celtic Winter, which about halfway through has a violin.

Then, I discovered Flogging Molly, which introduced me to more classical forms of Irish music. Ever since then, I've been wanting to play the fiddle, but never really got around to it. However, I'm a pretty spontaneous person, and tend to do things randomly and without warning. So yesterday, I sold my guitar, bought a cheap beginner's fiddle on Amazon, and looked up violin lessons.

Let me tell you, they are not cheap. WVU was offering a 16-week course for $600. Since I do not poop golden coins, this was not an option. However, my school has a Community Music Program that is also a 16-week course, but is $120. All things considered, not really that bad. They also will teach you any type of music that you want, instead of barring you only inside of classical. I'd like to learn classical, but my primary interests are Irish folk fiddle and bluegrass.

My fiddle should arrive tomorrow or Saturday, then I can begin my journey of making the sound of dying cats coming out of my violin for a few years!

Art for Tards

So I decided I love talking about art, but many people are not entirely interested in it. Because of this, I've opened a new blog just for art, called Art for Tards. It's a much more fun, unconventional way of looking at art without the pretention and bullshit. If you like art, or just find it a wee bit interesting, follow me! The first article will be about the Sistine Chapel.

I'm cured!

Sorry I haven't been updating often. Between these awful migraines and worrying about my new condition, things have been a bit crazy, but I think everything should be back on track soon.

Today, I finally got over my post-spinal tap headaches. If you've ever had a lumbar puncture, I'm sure you know what these are like. If not, count yourself lucky. When you have a spinal tap, they drain a little bit of spinal fluid to check for certain things... in my case, to relieve the excess pressure around my brain and to check said pressure. When they do that, the fluid leaks a little bit, causing your brain to float down, which in turn makes the membrane scrape across the bottom of your skull when you're sitting up. You're completely fine while lying flat, but when sitting up that fluid shifts down again.

Imagine the worst migraine (or headache, if you don't get migraines) you've ever had. Multiple that by ten. Then imagine Genghis Khan just lopped a two-handed axe through your skull. After that, imagine that all of Manchester United is lining up to take turns to kick you full force in the head while the Khan's axe is still embedded in your brain. That's what post-spinal tap headaches feel like.

Other than that, though, the medicine and relief from the spinal tap has done a world of good for my pseudotumor. My eyesight has improved dramatically, I have yet to get a headache (other than the spinal tap headaches), and I haven't had any anger fits or depressive slumps. Also, the medicine I was prescribed causes weight loss. Can't argue with that.

Anyway. Enough about my feeble human body. Here's some nerdy stuff.

Invicibility star. I crocheted him one dead night at work.

A boo. The picture makes him look terrible... he's not perfect, but I'm pretty happy with him.

Also, class starts next week. My official last semester. It's scary. Terrifying, in fact. Terrifying in the prospect that I have to start looking for a graphics job in a place where no graphics jobs exist. I hope I'm not doomed to wait tables forever.

The end is neigh.

The end to my first book, that is! I'm slowly approaching the end of the first book of my three-part tale. After this, it's tons of editing and then trading it to publishing companies and agents for a few pounds of rejection letters.

Also, I made these:

Other pictures here. They're orange slice earmuffs to go with the citrus scarf. Once again I'm tempted to keep them for myself, but then again I'm broke and trying my damnedest to sell stuff. Still nothing sold. If I can't sell anything on my Etsy shop, I'm going to try selling stuff at a small event we have at the university every March called The Women of Art Expo. Last year a famous tattoo artist of this region was selling her tattooed rubber duckies and made bank (I bought one, too).

I also may start doing Warhammer tabletop. Sean and I were desperately trying to find a hobby to do together, as I'm getting burnt out on video games, so we decided Warhammer was sufficiently nerdy enough.

New stuff + update.

Sorry I haven't posted very much recently. After the holidays, there's so much to do: cleaning, playing with new toys like the PS3 that Sean's parents generously bought for us, and crocheting. I've been crocheting like crazy lately, even though I just started not too long ago. There's something extremely satisfying about it... I guess because I'm making stuff you can actually use instead of just making stuff to look at.

Anyway, I spent about 3 days making this scarf, and I think it turned out pretty well:

I wish I had a better camera, because I'm so proud of this thing and the pictures make it look like crap.

Another thing I've been doing recently is working on my Etsy shop. I've been making a variety of items for it as well as adding things I've had sitting around for a while... jewelry, hemp, a painting, and crochet. Still have not sold a single thing. I'd like the get more traffic to it, but I can't afford the advertising program right now.

Speaking of not being able to afford anything, the holidays have made me broke. I didn't buy anyone presents this year, just made some, but somehow I still ended up with no money. I've paid all the bills besides rent, and I have a grand total of $9 in my checking account besides the rent money. Sean and I gathered our change yesterday to buy a loaf of bread at the gas station so we could eat something. Ah, the joys of being a college student.

And then, jumping to being a college student, I have one more semester and I'm done. I need just one class, so I'm taking some useless classes to fill my financial aid requirements. One class I'm taking, however, is equally useless and cool. It's called Folk Art, and in this class they teach you weaving (knitting, crocheting, etc), quilting, tinsmithing and metalworking, bookbinding, dollmaking, and other cool stuff. I'm really looking forward to it, and hopefully it'll add some unique stuff to my Etsy inventory that no one will buy.

On a final note, they are adding a Gloria Jeans to the complex they're building in my town. In fact, they're adding several awesome things that we don't have: a Dairy Queen, the Gloria Jeans, an Orange Julius, and a Little Caesar's (already have that, but it's on the other side of town). I had Gloria Jeans coffee twice: once in a coffee variety pack last Christmas, and once a few days ago when Sean and I went to Morgantown and they had one there. I had a Butter Nut Rum mocha... it was awesome.

I'm thinking about applying to the Gloria Jeans, as it's five minutes away from my apartment instead of twenty-five, and I could work there in the mornings before my evening classes. Plus, free coffee. Who doesn't want that?

Etsy shop is now open!

So I finally set up my Etsy shop. I've only got a few items right now, but I'm working on quite a few more things to add. It's at this address. I wish my camera wasn't a piece of crap so the items wouldn't look fuzzy, but I guess I have to work with what I've got.

My fingers are bleeding.

Since it's Christmastime and I'm horrendously poor, I decided to make stuff. My last name is Webb, which is Old English for weaver, so what's better than weaving things? I picked up crochet again, and here are a few of the things I've made.

Scarf for my mom.

Scarf for my other mom (Sean's mumsy).

A headband (adding to shop inventory).


The beginnings of a bag, which I'll also attempt to sell when it's done.

I'm not great at it yet, but I guess it'll do.

On another note, yesterday I very briefly attended my work's Christmas party, only to drop off my present to my Secret Santa receivee. Besides a couple of coworkers that don't hate me, I just felt so unwelcome. I feel like that everywhere. At school, at work, in public. I feel like I don't belong anywhere anymore.

To be truthful, I don't really have any friends in real life. I mean, there's people I'll talk to, but no one I actually hang out with. People I think are friends end up being a completely different person than I thought, or they lose interest pretty quickly. Even though I was among the weird outcasts in high school, I still had an entire group of weird outcasts to hang out with, and we always had a ton of fun. They've all went their separate ways now... out of town, state, and even country.

I've been tempted to come back to WoW because I had friends there. When I had a seizure last year, I logged into WoW because I had no one else to talk to while Sean headed home to see if I was okay.

The only real friend I have in real life is Sean. Still, he can't keep me from being lonely all the time. I feel so alone. Is being an adult this lonesome?

Well, back to crocheting.

Watercolor time!

I've really enjoyed doing abstract watercolors based on dreams and psychosis, so here's a new one (the green is still a little wet in the picture).

It's nice to get away from realism for a while after doing it for so long.

Finals = over!

So after lots of stress, getting things done last-minute, projects, papers, presentations, and wanting to jump off a bridge, I am done with finals! I've only taken 12 hours this semester, and it has been far more stressful than any other semester so far (even my 21 hour one). I think it was just the mere workload of the classes, since they were all senior level:

Art History (1450-1750): I love art history, but I found this class much harder than my Impressionist/Post-Impressionist and Modern Art class. I think it's because religious art bores me. Plus, the papers and exams were rough. I do have a newfound love for Baroque Dutch art, however.

Water Media: My watercolor class. Oh, I know, sounds like fun, painting with watercolors all day. It is fun, and I've discovered my niche, but this class was demanding. You have to paint several watercolors everyday, as well as finish an enormous final project at the end. Still fun, though.

Area Studies: This class is kind of like an independent work class that meets a few times during the semester for critiques. They absolutely hammer you and don't hold back. I came back after every critique in tears, never wanting to paint again. However, it really pushed my boundaries and I had a positive critique at the end, which was rather satisfying.

Graphics Practicum: My graphics internship. I interned under a wonderful lady that runs the student activities and organizations, where I did posters, pamphlets, t-shirt designs, website updates, cards, and more. There was always lots to do, but it helped me realize my strengths and weaknesses and improve upon them. In addition to the actual internship work, I had to write a brief essay and keep work logs every two weeks. At the end, I had to write a 5-page summary essay, do a presentation on the internship, and lots more to hand in.


Next semester will finally, definitely be my last. That makes for me being in college for five years, which kind of sucks but I guess isn't so bad when I changed my major 4 times (Political Science to Biology to Chemistry to finally Graphic Design/Fine Arts) and transferred from WVU to a smaller university in my hometown. Plus, I have a minor in Spanish, and foreign language minors tend to require several classes.

I want to just be done with academia, but now I am seriously considering undertaking grad school. Of all things, for a Master's in Art History. I know, sounds as useful as a doctorate in Underwater Basket Weaving, but I've always wanted to say I had a Master's degree. Also, the coolest professor I know is my art history teacher, who is the smartest woman in the world and knows everything ever about art. I want a Master's in Art History so I also have the ability to teach undergraduates on a university level, as well as have the opportunity to be a curator. I'm already picking up a second class (Gallery Management) so I can have a minor in art history.

Well, I'm going to go nurse this migraine.

More cranes.

Well, here's the last of my painted cranes. I know it doesn't look it, but it took me forever to paint these damn things, as well as fold them since they're kind of unwieldly. Now I just have to get fishing line and string them up. The first two pictures are my second "new Japan," while the last four are my two "old Japan" cranes.

(This one's my favorite!)

Insane cranes.

I've spent about 21 hours on this watercolor project, and I don't think I ever want to see another origami crane again. I've painted four large ones in total, and those are a huge pain to fold. In addition, I folded another twenty small cranes. Finally, today, I'm going to string them all up. I was on crane #10 when I started to lose my mind slightly.

There is a legend that if you fold 1,000 origami cranes, a real crane will visit you and grant you one wish. I think this is true. After you've folded that many cranes, your sanity starts to collapse and a hallucination of a crane will appear before you, magicking your giant cake or swimming pool full of raspberry jello, and you will believe it. Then, you are carted away by some nice men in white coats where they put you in a comfy room lined with pillows and give you a white jacket of your own.

Seeing as I don't want to even look at my cranes now, I'll post some pictures later.

In the other creative aspect of my life, my novel is going relatively well besides those dreaded speed bumps known as writer's block and "responsibility" (i.e. finals). I've decided instead of writing one massive, unwieldly book that it's turning out to be, Citadel will now be a trilogy. I'm pretty certain I have enough material for three books. Since Kishna is one who controls the elements, each individual book will have a title reflecting this. So far the working titles are Spirit Winds, Chaos Waters, and Forests of Blood and Fire.

I think three books is a good way to go, since it seems like my pace is a little too fast already and this will give some opportunity to even it out. Also, once I finish the first one I can try to seek a publisher and be working on the second one while that's happening. If I ever get good enough to be published, that is.

First painted crane.

As you may know, for my final project in my Water Media class, I'm working on origami cranes that represent old Japan (geisha, tea houses, daimyo, samurai, Shinto, etc) and new Japan (video games, anime, new media, weird fashions, etc). Here's my first crane, "new Japan."

Every visible part is painted, so you would have to look all over the crane to see all of the paintings, even inside some partially visible flaps. The whole crane is not painted, though; I've made a template planning out which parts will be seen and therefore painted and which parts are completely hidden.

One down, three to go.

Crochet piggies!

I recently took up crochet again and decided to try my hand at an easy amigurumi (a Japanese crocheted toy). So, I made a green pig.

He sucks but I think he's cute. I plan on giving it to my mom who collects pigs. Next time I'll try something more challenging, and with limbs.

Digital art, part 2.

Yesterday I began coloring and adjusting lines on the face. It's much more fun than spending three hours tracing lines from a terrible photograph of the initial drawing. I can tell this thing is going to take forever, though... just coloring the face took about 2 hours. Here's a detail of what I have so far: okay shading and line weight amongst thick lines drawn by a 7-year-old.

Such fun! Hopefully I'll get faster as time goes on.

Digital art.

I'm starting to learn how to do digital art (i.e., drawings, not graphic design) and I thought I'd share. I finally found a good tutorial to teach me to do it. It took forever but I think it'd be worth it in the end. It sucks now; all I have is lines then I have coloring. Maybe someday I'll make amazing digital art, but for now, here's a childesque line drawing.

That was the hard part. Coloring and shading will be the fun (and easy) part. As I said it sucks for now, but I suppose I'll see how it is once it's done.

(The girl is a character from my story... figure I'd draw her since her hair is fun.)

Origami cranes.

I fold a lot of origami cranes. I do other origami as well, but nothing to me is more relaxing or second-nature than folding origami cranes. There is a saying that folding one thousand paper cranes will bring you inner harmony as well as grant you a wish. I'm probably pretty close to that number by now.

For my Water Media project, I'm making even more cranes, two very large ones and several small ones that all hang from the ceiling. My inspiration for this project is the city of Kyoto: a former Japanese capital where you can still find tea houses, geisha, Shinto temples, and other interests of old romanticized Japanese among a sprawling and modern city. It's interesting to see so much tradition and antiquity in a city filled with the uniqueness of modern Japan.

One large crane will represent old Japan. The crane will be painted with traditional Japanese watercolor and calligraphy of scenes of life in this era. The other crane will be new Japan, painted with its bright, colorful, and really strange happenings, styles, and media of the country's today. Each crane will have an army of smaller cranes, each representing one thing of each era. I've five so far, so I'd thought I'd share. My camera is terrible and cheap, so I'm sorry for the blur.

Geisha crane, Orizukuko-chan. She is holding an origami teapot in one wing and a teacup in the other. She wears her hair in the typical style of a geisha past her apprenticeship, with decorative chopsticks in her hair.

Hello Kitty crane, Hello Craney. She loves pink and flowers. She loves flowers so much she has one in her hair and some on her wings. KAWAII DESU~~

Kamina crane, Cramina. He wears his trademark glasses and the collar of his cloak (a real cloak would be awfully hard to fly in), with his blue tattoos seen. Quotes include "Don't believe in the crane that believes in Cramina, or the Cramina that believes in you. Have faith in the crane that believes in you." and "Who the hell do you think I SQUAWWWK?!"

Generic mecha crane, Crundam Wing. This picture is simply awful since I used metallic paper and my camera sucks, but Crundam Wing is covered in wiring. It is the combination of five smaller cranes that come together as a team, proving that only friendship and teamwork will defeat the evil aliens/Cranezilla/other mecha cranes that hate Japan.

Cranichu, the Pikachu crane. Despite the crane's love of water, Cranichu is coursing with electricity, which is a bummer for other fauna in the waters nearby. Cranichu's best friends are Bulbacrane, Charcraneder, Craquirtle, and his trainer, Crash.

If you have a crane you'd like to see in this project, let me know. The only restrictions are the crane must have a Japanese background, either old Japan or modern Japan. Arigatou to ja mata ne!

Panel 3 of Onerionaut.

So for one of my classes I have to work on an independent project. My project is a three-piece multimedia work about dreams, called "Oneironaut" (a term meant to be used for a lucid dreamer). I've posted the first part, called "Drifting." This is the third panel, "Nightmare." Eventually, all three pieces will be connected together with hemp, duct tape, and a string of purple lights.

Inspiration from Japanese horror? You bet your arse.

Two down, one to go.

Nightmares and dreams.

I haven't updated in a bit... what a busy week.

This morning I had some terrible nightmares. I can't remember them too well, all I know is three times throughout the morning I woke myself up screaming. I don't have nightmares much anymore, but when I do they're damned awful.

I do, however, remember my dream from the night before. I was in a Escheresque college with multiple levels that also had a cold-side grocery store beside its classrooms. Handy. One of the guys in my class was a guy I went to school with in high school who had long hair and would (ironically?) put it into pigtails. In the dream, he had Sailor Moon hair with very long hemp hair ties, walking around like it ain't no thang. I should also mention he was wearing a lumberjack's shirt and a blue kilt.

After class, I went to the elevator and came face-to-face with an old friend. He was wearing an ankle-length pink fur coat, an enormous admiral's hat with huge plumes and gems, and had a small chain through his nose and cheeks.

"Hey, what's going on?" he says.

"Not much. Um, nice outfit."

"I know, right?"

He then turns sideways, where an Asian Link is now standing holding a triforce. My friend grabs it out of his hands and says, "That's not for you!" and runs off into the parking garage with it. Link hangs his head and cries as he slumps down the stairs.


Speaking of nightmares, I had one a few weeks ago that bothered me. A year ago, I had a nightmare where I was helping my mom move into a new house. She asked me to take a box to the attic and I complied.

The attic was enormous, with several large rooms and winding staircases. I set the box down and went to leave, when I realized the door was gone: there was just a wall. Suddenly, horrific ghosts and Lovecraftian creatures slunked from the shadows, closing in on me. I can't really describe them, but they give me shivers just thinking about it. I forced myself to wake up before anything happened, a practice I perfected after neverending nightmares when I was a teenager.

A few weeks ago, I had another dream that I was in a house with my mom, helping her unpack. Sean was there with me.

"This house looks really familiar," I said.

"You've been here before, don't you remember?" Sean said.

My mom motions to a box on the ground. "Will you take this up to the attic for me?"

I shake my head. "No way. Don't you remember what happened to me in the attic a year ago?"

I've never had reoccuring dreams, much less a dream that continues itself after one year. Eerie.


What are some of your most memorable dreams?

I think I'm crazy.

Most people in the world aren't normal. Think about it: the human brain is an extremely complex organ, not only regulating your necessary functions to survive (such as breathing, organ use, being able to realize that petting that bear isn't a good idea), but juggling many other tasks as well. Our brain allows us to form logical theories, to dream and imagine, to feel emotion, to form abstract thoughts, and many more. It isn't surprising that most people have something a little off-kilter upstairs.

There are also those whose brains are a little broken. Not completely broken such as cannibal sadist serial killers, but just off enough to be considered somewhat crazy. In fact, 26.2% of the observable population in the States has been diagnosed with a mental illness. I'm among that somewhat crazy. The old saying goes "a mad person doesn't realize he's mad," but most realize there's something wrong with them.

When I was a kid, 8 to be specific, I had childhood OCD and depression. Sometimes I would have random evil thoughts float across my mind, insidious whispers that would damn me. Since this was long before I became an agnostic, I had the fear of God in me and this made it worse. A common thought I would have was "I hate God and I love Satan." This was pretty terrifying for 8-year-old me, so constantly throughout the day, nearly every hour, sometimes every minute, I would repeat to myself, "I love Jesus and I love God. I hate the devil, and I love Jesus and I love God." Over and over and over and over.

I also would have constantly repeating thoughts through my mind. For instance, I loved to read; always have and always will. When I read a book, the book would be stuck in my head, reading itself to me over and over. Songs were the same. It wasn't the usual getting a song stuck in your head... no, it would play over and over for hours, days even.

Finally my mom took me to a child psychologist and I was diagnosed. Therapy did nothing and the pills did nothing. Finally, after a few years, I grew out of my OCD thoughts. But I wasn't safe yet, because a crazy person is usually crazy forever.

When I was 11 we moved back to West Virginia and I was thrown into a new world where no one really liked me. The depression kicked in, but this time with no OCD. Throughout my teenage years I was constantly depressed and cried myself to sleep almost every night, from 11 to 17. I don't know why I was so sad. Everything just felt so gray. I was constantly thinking of death and suicide, almost like it was an obsession. I cut myself where people couldn't see, bruised myself, and scratched myself till I drew blood.

Now that I'm an adult, I grew out of that psychosis as well, only to fall into another one. I still have depression here and there, but it's not the intense sort, more like the extremely apathetic sort. When I go on these bouts nothing in the world seems that great, and everything is empty. Luckily, these are rare anymore. I thank Sean for pulling me out of it.

Instead, my crazy has been replaced by a much less accepted type of psychosis. I honestly don't know the terms, just what I experience: auditory and visual hallucinations, bouts of extreme anger, a stubborn dislike of things most people enjoy, disagreeability, having entire conversations with myself, repeating random phrases or words that flow through my mind, a constant need to daydream and be in a fantasy world, an inability to remember dreams from reality, and paranoia. I prefer it to the OCD and depression; it makes things a little more interesting and a little less drab.

I actually don't mind it too much. I hate my anger problem, and the hallucinations really throw me off and make me worry for my overall sanity, but at least it has boosted my creativity a ton and has helped my art and writing. Though mental illness is constantly ridiculed and looked down upon by society, some of the greatest artists and writers ever known suffered from some form of it: Vincent van Gogh, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Edgar Allen Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Pablo Picasso, Jackson Pollock, Kurt Vonnegut, Leo Tolstoy, Edvard Munch, Claude Monet, Mark Rothko. And that's just the ones I know well.

Creativity and mental illness have been officially linked through studies, so being crazy isn't so bad. If you want to kill and eat women that look like your mother, that's bad. If you want to create a masterpiece of literature or art, that isn't. In fact, here's a recent piece I've done in a series I'm working on called Oneironaut, which is an artistic exploration and rendering of dreams.

Oneironaut: Drifting

After all, what is truly normal?

Tell me, my six readers: how crazy are you? Have you experienced anything that would make you question your sanity?

Brittany and Sean: Master pasteriers

A few weeks ago Sean and I bought a Halloween house kit. I made one last year and while it was no where near as pretty as it was on the box, it was decent. It's more or less a chocolate cookie house that comes with icing mix, grape bats, gumdrops, green balls, and a confectionary ghost. Look at the box art: these guys must've worked on it for 10 hours to make it so perfect and cute!

Today we decided to build the house. We carefully mixed the icing and began topping off the roof. However, the icing was too thin and it ran, much to our dismay. I tried to make a door, Sean placing the green balls around it, but it melted and ran down the side. We were sad.

Finally, Sean said "fuck it" and started pouring icing randomly all over it. The house was bleeding orange and purple. Joining him, I took a handful of bats and threw them on the house, the grape candies fusing into the evil haunted mashion.

It turned out that destroying the house was way more fun than perfectly building it, which is nervewracking and you start to notice your hands are awfully shaky when you're trying to perfectly align little green candies on the sharp roof. Here are the fruits of our labor.

This is the front of the house. Notice the melted door that still remains from when we began. Dead bats that have flown into the house are now fused with it, becoming one. A ghost in the left window pukes sweet orange bile as the house itself bleeds from the souls of its lost victims.

More dead bats have become entrapped in the house's gooey web of deceit, slowly being digested by the evil leviathan. A row of gumdrop tombstones line the yard, a warning to any adventurers or teenagers with a great dane to stay away.




The back is splattered with ectoplasm. Obviously, many great ghost wars have been fought here. Sadly, it is an endless battle, an eternal hell in which they may never leave. They wish to see their wives once again, leaving the horrors of war behind... too bad they don't realize they're already dead. A pair of gumdrop boobs is also here.

A rumble is heard from the misty distance, far from the eyes of the undead denizens that call this place their waking nightmare. In the distance, a towering goliath approaches, cookie trees crumbling in its wake, stirring flocks of Peep crows to scatter into the churning black sky. A great growl rips from its maw, lined with sharp teeth.

The ghosts cry out in dread as the creature lowers its head, and, with a great wail, sinks its jaws into the deathly prison of their home.

The gheists try to flee, but they're trapped in their eternal torment. Teeth gnash at them, and they stab at the monster in vain with their licorice spears and Pocky swords, but to no avail. The monster eats his fill and, as quickly as he came, vanishes into the black forests of the night.

The ghosts gather around their bleeding, melting, oozing mess of a home. Though they hate it for its role as their warden, their eyes fill with ghostly tears. Their haunting wails ring out over the marshmallow hills: the place for which they have fought, suffered, and died for eternally hangs in crumbling ruins, cracks of cookies falling from the rafters through to the yardside below. They are still trapped. They will continue to battle endlessly, forever... but for what?

So yeah, it was fun. And messy. And ugly. But delicious.