Morgrim has a minion!

Scrap the Harpier

The clouds were purple, a light shade of lilac that he enjoyed greatly as he reclined on the sand. The sand too was a shade of purple, though the grains were a deep blue purple and soft under his fur. He lay on his back, watching the pale yellow sky and purple clouds. The ocean was cornflower blue, but the wave caps were yellow in color, and crested in almost orange froth. Behind him purple palm trees sprouted blue leaves and orange coconuts. He reached to his left and grabbed a coconut, cracking it with one grasp of his long claws. The milk inside was lavender and tasted like honeysuckle to him.

This by far was one of his favorite trips.

He let out a soft belch and the noise sounded like a song. Lovely. A bright red and yellow bird landed only a few feet away from him and picked up the song where his burp had left off. The bird was perfectly on key, and started hopping in a circle around the large canine; that was, until the blackness started to spread. A thin fog started issuing from the canine’s very skin, oozing in greasy puddles around him, washing away the color and drowning out the sounds of the sweet song and waves crashing calmly. The milk suddenly tasted sour, like dirt and motor oil. The canine spat, the milk sizzling against the now gray sand.

And the fun was over.

He hated waking from the sweetness. It always left him breathless. And he hated trying to catch his breath.


He started to pant. God it was hard to adjust.

A sigh stifled itself from his lips, as he drifted back from the island of color and floated effortlessly above a child’s bed. He’d been lying on his blue furred back, squirming with pleasure. But the pleased feeling was gone, and the child was about to wake with fright as the visions Morgrim placed in his head unfolded. He slithered through the air like a snake on the ground, moving through the bright blue colored wall into a hallway, small yet quaint. His black nose sniffed the air lightly just as his ears picked up the faint squeak of the small boy he’d just enjoyed.

His muscles gave an involuntary jump. He’d better move.

He lofted down the hallway, lowering himself almost to the ground, even though his paws never touched the surface. Through the door, and out onto the lawn he went, leaving behind him the now screaming child and the scurry of parents to comfort him. That particular kid had a wonderfully developed imagination. If only he could get another fix like that… He’d be good the rest of the night.

The house across the street was his next target, he could smell the succulent scent of sweet dreams, just ripe for his plucking. Through a window he lurched, and up a small set of stairs, paws moving as if he were walking, but he never felt anything beneath him, he could only feel the emptiness as it filled him. His left eye twitched in its white emptiness. He needed another, and soon, before he started to get jittery. His black nose twitched, sucking in the smell of his sweet addiction. He was close. Head stuck through the wall on his left and he drew in breath deeply.

No. Not there. But he was still close.

He pulled himself free and tried again, to the right. He sniffed.

Ah… There it was.

He dove into the room like a person to a pool and swarmed upon the bed. Their dream, it must be lovely to give off such a sweet scent; and it was driving him crazy. He wretched next to their bed, a pool of black fluid producing itself from his core, coating the floor in a sticky gum of sorts. The slime leeched its way up their bed post, curling under their blanket. It crackled and hissed as it moved, sliding into any orifice it could find. Eyes, ears, nose, mouth, it wasn’t picky. It was just going in.

Morgrim waited as his mind began to fade into their reality. His eyes opened wide as a silky feeling breeze flitted through the empty sockets.

Ah.. Here it comes.