Mum--
- Fred is that oddly coloured plant. Over there, by the door frame. He fades in and out of sight, wiggling into view when he feels just a tad too ignored.
He wants cookies, lots of them. Maybe you used to think the plant that ate dirty socks was bad - Fred is worse.
Be afraid of Fred. Be very afraid.
You should go to bed now. Go to bed now.
Get enough sleep, or Fred will eat your brain and soul if you do not feed him cookies.
And he'll talk your ear off - literally. You'll wake up, and find him chewing on your ear, as he realized you were no longer listening to him. It's frightening.
I'm scared, mum.
There were several blots of ink on the page, various letters running into one another, but the plea was quite passionate.
Amalyn had never seen the scrap of paper though, as someone had taken it off the top of her desk, read it, and then tucked it into the gap between desk and wall, to be overlooked unless she happened to move the desk.
Dust was starting to collect on the folds of the page, and a spider was using it as support for its web - its last web had been dislodged by the strange plant, leaving it quite perturbed at work now lost.
