Brittle and delicate supplements of a willowy frame ascribed to her lithe decrees swayed about inside this liberal kitchen. Dishware occupied every adjacent space, pans and pots, pots and pans polished in perched position, even those rags basted in relics of summer tongue seasoned banquets, contributed to this futile orderly harmony. She splashed about in wicked motion, her hair sloshing among to collect bottled spices and the bare essentials to what would be a meal of particular flavor. Her flesh sullen and encased in timber, the creaks and groans, groans and creaks proved parallel to the bending of oak, the lullabies to the downtrodden souls entombed inside the fire burping furnace, fed this slender chef of demon lineage, as would a hearty and pride stuffed cook pry a sample upon their finger.
Scream and plea, plea and scream she would pay no attention to the entrapped humanities clawing at the tempered glass. Hum she would until her thorn horn sprites would beckon into the shuffling galley. More than a dozen to be counted, their matchstick tails striking fire to everything in sight. Sizzle and snap, snap and sizzle, she scalded them with barbs from a lashing tongue but the sadistic and devious brats had already branded the fresh paint of their misbehavior. Cry and weep, weep and cry these monsters shown no emotion, only sultry etch a sketch faces depicted of sundry moods chosen by the damsel demon, splicing and spicing, spicing and splicing all the sorted meats of bled personalities. It all made for a bitter soul glazed casserole to feed to her riotous young, they would rather chew upon their roasting rears than to taste this insipid and foul, foul and insipid dish of belly shoving poison. Fiend of fluttering lashes, demon or impiety stricken wretch she was.
Feed or be fed, a wooden spoon to wilt underneath the stew of hopping harms, harms hopping onto tangible fork tongues. Colored chalks to blemish expressions and emotions had been hid inside her cloud dreary hair, spiders of floss web to pick curved teeth. Kinked and contorted, contorted and kinked she hummed them to slumber.
They slept and dreamt, dreamt and slept of thumbtack horrors, such as chalk line smiles and maniacal intentions. Smudge scripts to denote their pyro frolics, and watch it ignite into an oven chamber. They would arc and spark, spark and arc and set the demon of oak ablaze, with chalk smears of colored grins, grins of colored smears, until their hums and lullabies drowned out her screams in tempered docility.
