Congratulations is due to Build A Story Round 4, on being the proud new parent of a scaly, winged monster. A ripe opportunity for a contributor, vet or newbie, to give this story flight to even stranger heights than it’s already been. Have a read of what we have so far and lend us a sentence or two. Let’s keep this monster alive for a little while longer.

He said there’s nothing to be afraid of and soothed his bitten hand with our last stick of butter. He wasn’t thinking about how fond rats are of butter. Suddenly, there were scratching and squeaking sounds coming from under the floor boards. This was soon followed by a distinct shaking sound, which grew louder by the second.

“What is it?!?,” I screamed.

I’d never seen this man before in my life. A pleasant dinner with open windows and screen doors leads to this. Teacups vibrating off their hooks, shattering on the countertops. I pushed Bobby behind me and backed into the dining room. The house was coming apart.

Suddenly everything was still, and I could hear my own heart beating wildly.

Bobby lunged in front of me and shouted, “What is that?” As he pushed me under the dining room table I caught a glimpse of something I hadn’t seen in years. After all this time, I thought I’d successfully disappeared, but it found me again.

Yes, it was the magician, come back for the audience volunteer who had vanished from his Chinese box all those years ago, and this time he had a blunt instrument!

“I’ll be blunt,” he sneered menacingly.

Bobby erupted in menacing laughter as I leaped toward the gaping hole that had been my dining room wall just minutes before. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pull out a gleaming blue magic wand and point it at the magician. 

“You know what I’ve done, but not what I’m capable of doing, you nefarious fiend,” he snarled; I had no idea he was capable of sounding so menacing, so otherworldly.

I could scarcely believe what I saw next. I pinched myself to make sure I really was awake, and I was!

Bobby morphed into a creature that can only be described in small bits: green scales here, smoke coming from his three nostrils there, leathery wings that shone with an inner light sprouting from—what were those things? My son! I thought, but was he?

This emerald imp grasped the hem of my dress as it struggled to rise on one horribly deformed foot. As we came eye to eye the skin below its nostril split and that gaping wound grew until it formed a mouth large enough to hold a human head. Its breath was foul.

And like some monstrous chicken it squawked one terrible word: “Mama.”

What happens next? You tell me…