Angela's Dream Comments

Such strange fat fireflies so early in the month of Beltane, pondered Angela, as she watched their ephemeral light brighten then fade. Was she ken to a mutation from some radioactive mist or super acidic rain? Or, more simply, a mischievous neuron in her prodigal imagination played.

It was kind of scary, she thought, for how unspeakable would they become by summer? Angela waved her arms chaotically, hoping to obfuscate their sense of direction. Running home, she collapsed on the toilet and performed a thorough lavation to refresh and calm herself - whilst a single, stealthy flyer wangled and buried it's exoskeleton deep within her shorts, without suspect or detection.
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