When was I going to learn not to stay up past three a.m. in my attempts to finish a piece of iddy fanfic? Soon, I hoped. Because that's when she showed up. My dead aunt. Or, rather, her ghost. The first inkling I always had of a visitation was the foul smell of her cigarettes. They'd killed her, but she still kept on smoking them. Then her rasping breath just behind my left ear as she read over my shoulder. "Cat-boy sex this time, child? I like it. Be sure to lovingly describe the barbs on his whatsit." She annoyed the heck out of me. But one thing was for sure. As long as I stayed up past three a.m., I would never lack for ideas.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Yes, Aunt Agnes really was like this.
Date: 2020-08-27 03:27 am (UTC)Soon, I hoped. Because that's when she showed up.
My dead aunt. Or, rather, her ghost.
The first inkling I always had of a visitation was the foul smell of her cigarettes. They'd killed her, but she still kept on smoking them.
Then her rasping breath just behind my left ear as she read over my shoulder.
"Cat-boy sex this time, child? I like it. Be sure to lovingly describe the barbs on his whatsit."
She annoyed the heck out of me.
But one thing was for sure. As long as I stayed up past three a.m., I would never lack for ideas.