Challenge #27—Keep It Short
In which words of one syllable are all I can use. Surprisingly fun. Not as difficult as I thought.
Words: 162
Pitch was in charge of bad dreams, so each night he held a new child's fears close to his chest. They would scream, he would laugh; they would cry, he would smile. He was full of the grim thoughts and scenes from the minds of kids he had trapped in the dark cage of his vast night.
It was a job most would scold him for, but he loved it. The fears hissed in their ears, gave them cause for hot, wet tears—gave them long and cruel dreams, which they had to wait for the rise of the sun to find the end in the harsh light. He was their god in their sleep. They had no way to leave if he was not through.
He would creep back to his lair once he got what he came for: All of the child's hopes and good dreams to flee in a sharp sound of pain as the seed of doubt grew.
