Snippets by Ebony

By @ivory-and-ebony

Snippets by Ebony

By @ivory-and-ebony

This is not supposed to be a complete story. It is merely a snippet; a wisp of thought captured briefly. It is not complete, nor is it supposed to be.

Chapter 3

How you met a GOOD


It echoes through the cold stone building.


A thin, whispery voice, sliding through the empty halls.

It is cold. The cold slides down your throat, into things that matters most to you, making them seem icy and dead. It freezes your soul.

A third time, the horrid voice hisses,


You decide that this cannot continue. So you reply, tentatively,


Suddenly, a bluish, transparent figure comes gliding towards you. It wisps away into nothingness at its feet, and its edges are blurred, melting and blending with the frigid air.

A jolly smile lights its bluish, transparent face. Its cheeks are round and chubby. It has a rotund, bulging belly, looking like a ghostly Santa Claus. Its eyes are kindly crinkled and have a merry glimmer.

“Hey-yo!” it exclaims jollily. “Whatcha doin’? I heard your greeting. Nice to meet you, my name’s Ghostly Ornery Only Done. But you can call me by my initials. I’m Ghostly Ornery Only Done.” Ghostly Ornery Only Done says this all in a rush, the words blurring and fading together like his figure.

“By your initials…” you murmur, very confused. “I can call you…”

“GOOD!” GOOD exclaims brightly.

“Yes, yes, GOOD…” you murmur. “Was it you who was saying ‘Hello’?”

Hellooooooooooooooo… the ghostly voice whispers again. You cannot see GOOD’s mouth move.

“Oh, no!” GOOD says, laughing merrily. “By every ghost’s ghostly airs, no! That’s my pet devil.”

“Your pet… devil?” you repeat slowly, unsure if your ears are working.

“By every ghost’s ghostly deviled eggs, yes!” GOOD says just as you see a ghostly, almost transparent furball whizz past GOOD, then scramble back and end up by his feet like a chihuahua that’s high. When it finally stops whizzing and ricocheting around the cold stone walls, you see it has a fox-like snout and rabbitty ears. It is covered all over in bright, buttery yellow fur with streaks of violet. Its legs are scaly and look vaguely reptilian–they are a light baby blue. Its eyes are a sweet tulip pink, huge and unblinking like an owl’s. It has curled, ramlike horns which are a bright fuchsia.

“Say hi to my dear pet devil!” exclaims GOOD merrily.

“Hi…?” you say uncertainly. “What’s its name?” you ask politely, slowly inching away.

“Mother Theresa,” GOOD replies.

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