codyjohnston:

I missed Friday the 13th, so here’s a new spooky story on Sunday the 15th.

George Morge and the Horrible Hordes of Horror Gorge

Horror Gorge seemed like a good idea to some but they’re all dead now. Most people knew to stay clear, and most of those who didn’t stay clear had never even wanted to go in the first place. This attitude (not wanting to go in the first place) was the attitude of our boy-in-a-cap protagonist George Morge, of the Combtown Morges. Now, George Morge and the Morges were poor, but after the war they opened a store. It did pretty well, I guess. Enough to, like, open one more four miles from shore in a big spooky town called Horror Gorge.

George and his parents and kid sister were all but moving away from Combtown when one day they moved out of Combtown because reasons. Mr. Morge, whose job it was to pay for stuff, needed to be in Horror Gorge, I guess. And Mrs. Morge, whose job was kid stuff, wanted to be with him and bring their kids and stuff. So they all packed up, said goodbye to Combtown, and moved across the country to some other state and in that state was a presumably pretty spooky place. Sounds spooky, at least. But you know, you never know.

“Hey pop”, said the boy, George Morge, as he adjusted his cap. “It’s called Horror Gorge. That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, quiet it up,” shouted Mr. Morge, the blood in his veins in his body boiling in a figurative sort of way. “The new store in Horror Gorge’s worth more than your horrible, boring opinions and so on. Now please keep it down, I’m driving,” he shouted.

“Hey ma,” George said, cap still on his head. “Have you noticed that since we started moving to Horror Gorge, we’ve been rhyming more and more?”

“I’m not sure,” she said in a way that made it kind of rhyme with “more”.

“Now hold on a hoot,” Mr. Morge shouted with rage. “He’s right. I didn’t start noticing it until we opened the new store, and I didn’t say anything because I was too scared. Huh. Wouldn’t you know it,” he continued shouting.

“Say, husband” the Morge wife began, “I remember hearing tales of Horror Gorge and how basically kind of horrible it was. Lore of the horrible hordes of Horror Gorge and such.”

“What does that even mean?” Mr. Morge asked shoutingly.

“Hordes of bad stuff, it seems,” George suggested in a be-hatted manner.

“Well, it’s really just the rhyming bit that bothers me. Rhyming is hard, son. Never forget that.”

“You got it, dad,” George was like.

They turned the car around and headed back home. Oh, and I forgot about the kid sister, but yeah, I guess she said something earlier, or I don’t know maybe she’s the quiet type.

The End

Next time on Tales to Tell ‘Round Midnight: Beware the Bearwolf and Despairwolf! They’re the Scariest of the Various Billionairewolves! 2

I got pretty spooked