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Weekly Contest #357
The dark, oppressive space was cold and damp; the air felt heavy and taxed the lungs on every inhale. Unfortunately, all of this dark grandeur was lessened by the sounds of Death’s weekly tea with Time. “Bollocks! Utter bollocks! You can’t honestly believe any of the senseless drivel you’re spouting!” It was rather hard for the Underworld to hold on to its grim reputation when two men, greatly respected in their fields, met to yell at each other over floral teacups. Anyone who had the grave misfortune to pass through its twisting pathways ...
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