The tallest crone, clad in the gown of insolently-staring human eyeballs, spread her arms.
“Dread sisters,” she intoned darkly, “we are met to call up the Wriggling Doom!”
The shortest crone sighed. “Don’t bother. Called him earlier. Drunk again. Won’t be coming.”#epic fantasy— Ed Greenwood (@TheEdVerse) May 21, 2018
“Dread sisters”
