Slylock Fox – December 19th, 2013
Most people would crack under the Hand’s constant judgment, but Milton had learned to live with it. Ever since he moved into the creepy old house, it would poke out of doors and crevices, always waving a crudely fashioned report card.
Some days, a trail of bones would follow him everywhere. Random items like doorknobs would turn away from him. The house wasn’t pleased with him, and the Hand would grade him accordingly. On those occasions, the card would be a single page, with scrambled words scrawled into the side. Regardless, Milton always enjoyed the company.