You certainly don't have to twist my arm to get me to write a monster story! I love horror, and when I read Meg's prompt for Sunday Scribblings this week, my thought was WHICH MONSTER to write about?? I settled on goblins, and if you are familiar with Christina Rossetti's marvelous poem "Goblin Market," you have the background for this weird little story about kissing. And yes, I AM aware that my last strange tale ALSO involved kissing and dire consequences. But don't read anything into that. I'm pro-kissing. This is not a cautionary tale. Except: beware of goblins and strange fruit!
There is a certain kind of girl the goblins crave. You could walk across a highschool campus and point. Her, her, NOT her... It’s no mystery. That pretty girl sitting on her boyfriend’s lap? NOT her. The girl WATCHING the pretty girl sitting on her boyfriend’s lap? Yeah. Goner.
The goblins want girls who dream so hard about being pretty their dreams become a palpable trail, a scent goblins can follow like sharks on a soft bloom of blood. The girls with hungry eyes who pray each night to wake up as someone else. Urgent, unkissed, wishful girls.
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[I've taken down the rest of the story; sorry. It's a secret!]