Zumberge

Traci was a charming young woman, full of optimism, endowed with good looks, and utterly lacking in intelligence.  Her natural expression was one of thoughtful introspection, a person preoccupied with their inner world.  This lead others to believe that therein lied a wise soul, up until they made the fatal mistake of asked her what she was thinking about or, more likely, she spoke up on her own, wondering aloud if Alaska was real.

The day was overcast and cloudy, as it had been for the week prior.  The gentleman had settled in for some quiet study in the library, when the manor's front doorbell rang.  Sighing, he set down his sudoku book and pencil and proceeded through the manor, cursing himself for not hiring a butler.  As he reached the door the bell rang again, and he muttered a weary "yes, yes, I hear you" as he peeked through the keyhole.  Spotting a figure with red skin and silver-on-black eyes, he immediately reached for the lock.

She just keeps getting bigger.

At first we didn't know what had happened.  A panicked call came in about an emergency in the pharmaceutical lab in the outskirts of town, shortly followed by reports that a building collapsed in the same area.  People in the department thought it might have been a terrorist attack designed to cause a biological outbreak, but they wouldn't have let them build it anywhere near the city limits if there was anything dangerous in it.  Regardless, we went in expecting the worst.  What we found was... different.

As Shannon nervously stood before her, clad in a bathrobe, Margaret didn't know what to think.  True, she had been acting strange recently, but it wasn't anything too out of the ordinary.  On the contrary; considering how much her mood had improved and how often she was going out, Margaret could only assume that she had acquired one hell of a social life.  Inviting her into her room like this, though, was simply awkward. "Shannon, what's going on?"