Fluffybutt Prose Poems

[L. Jay Echoes]

It is a rare opportunity for rats to declare themselves the ruler of anything; Always in fear of starvation, they eat whatever they can find, edible or not, willing to risk self-poisoning if it means living one more day. Yet, through the leadership of Fear, a swarm of rats has laid claim to an abandoned carnival. It is still stocked with enough popcorn, hotdogs, and lemonade to last for years. However, they share the carnival with ghosts of the  homeless circus freaks that had searched for employment there. While most of the freaks are indifferent to Fear and his swarm, a few of them are trained exterminators. Their toxins are anything but ghostly. It is up to Fear to keep his family safe, not only from the ghosts but from potentially poisoned food.

[ZaraRa]

These are brilliant! Reading all of these has sent me on a delightful journey. You're an excellent writer, it feels almost criminal to interrupt the stream of poetry - but I simply must let you know just how gorgeous this all is! 

[L. Jay Echoes]

Aww that's very thoughtful of you to say. I don't mind anyone else posting in this thread. Critiques and criticism are welcome as well.

[L. Jay Echoes]

How do you fight a war when you're already dead? By sending your enemies' souls back to their rotting, crippled corpses back on Earth. Already, the firey underworld isn't tortuous enough, and a nation of especially vile souls are aiming to make it their own paradise. In Hell, you see, however bound to physical law its inhabitants are, cannot die but can ascend back to the physical realm by drenching them in holy water, and that is a fact the remorseless souls are exploiting. Tata Rotta, a kangaroo who was hit by a train, does not choose sides, as both fight for the cause of depopulating Hell. However, while before she chose her targets indescriminantly, she now takes care to avoid those she knew in life.

[L. Jay Echoes]

The boarders do not know where they are. All they can call it is Hell. A boarding house with no apparent exit. A demented menagerie of lost souls and demons. When they aren't looking for an exit, the lost souls are having  their skin ripped off them from angry, wandering fiends. Smashing through walls accomplishes nothing, as no hole has ever led to antyhing but another room. Crumbs, a lost soul thoroughly transformed into a bovine demon, bears a different goal. He seeks the cogs and gears of the house and rival demons. He collects and tutors what lost souls he can, but on occasion, loses one to the demons, or their transformation into one. The aim to escape notwithstanding, his goal is to learn how he kept his sanity into his bull form.