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The Bitter Man could not remember a time when the patch had not been his...it was always his...it would always be his...neither could he remember a time when his vine was still in the earth...He was strong; He was supreme; He was eternal...these tiny little gourds beneath him scarcely deserved his notice...long had he stood, warted and weathered and a host to rot and ruin...he fed on his patch without effort now, though he had not opened his eyes to see it for two winters...he had a vague memory of enjoying the taste of young pumpkins, the feel of their shells caving in and the faint sighing of their agony as he drained their life energy into himself...but now he could not taste nor smell nor even feel...he could imagine no change to his reign however, and the growing malice of the newest sprouts went entirely without his notice...




2009 Haunt Props:
The Bitter Man
--> Reimbittereded!
Djinni Tull
Pappy
Loma