Little Missy Muffet comes from a peticular family: human from a mother, spider from a father, she knows her nursery rhyme by heart, and arrives at Monster High slowly, carried by the spidery strangeness of her childhood. But the relationship between...
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˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚ ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
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The ivory moons had embarked her anguish in every sense of the way, but now Monster High presented her true colors at the center of her world. Words prey to overly ecstatic emotions, oils of heat that could be dared as uncertain in this netherworld where the laws of Nature were shifting a step.
"Back to New Radio. In today's news, the Obscure State is to open an official investigation into New Salem's Collective Psychosis, dubbed the 'Normind'. We remind you that this comes after numerous suspicions of falsification on the part of other dominant entities, and in the wake of several alarm bells rung by the Laboratories when to..."
The car, rented with the last of their savings, a black domestic carcass with paintwork somewhat mutilated by molasses-flecked adventures, made a lifeless beacon through the expanse of the forest tunnel. They might have thought they'd lost their way, but in the end, their position was untelling to the point of ambiguity. The school's coordinates were distributed to new arrivals at the Shelter late in the day, probably in a very deliberate move, and indicated paths situated at the limits of the Loops and the Mists, so as not to leave any traces that might compromise the secrecy of this renowned establishment. At times, it seemed as if the chaos or emptiness, by the windows, mimicked a supposed extension of the sylvan domain already eaten away by a phantom oblivion. Then, objects with real appearances, but as if lifeless in either world, would be caught out of nowhere without even the speed of the vehicle giving a frightening clue as to their true origins; scarecrows on the open road that no longer existed, a skyscraper lost in the countryside, crows with iridescent inks similar to hundredths of eyes in this strange mirage...
The Muffets had no experience of taking these paths. And Millicent felt like a painfully malleable, unfixed dough. It was the third time she'd vocally cursed the road, even if it meant putting the evil eye under some temptations.
But Trude had reassured Missy the road would be smooth as a mirror of youth.
These were once known only to the most erudite of Monsters, often over a millennium old. They were the last rope of escape for certain nomadic clans, from fugitives to powerful masters or ancestors, and when the Obscure World was established. In a time indescribable to the chronicles, these paths were directly inserted into the very cosmogony of this heart speaking to the ends of the world.
