One score minus four years ago…
On a temperate night, Lady Hecate had just finished licking the dust from the moon. A lump swelled in her throat, neck bulging like a toad. She heaved a cough, and up sprang a ball of cobwebs. When she parted the silky strands with her needle fingers, she found the pink blue wriggling mass within. She summoned a rabble of the blackest bats. Together they laboriously carried the rolls of snoozing flesh to the unsuspecting door of a family in want of a son. Midnight candle light was held to the frowning face ripped from sleep in a bramble basket. They named him Griffin for they surely knew a wildness was within. Lady Hecate watched from the edge of the wood, using the stork’s beak to pick the feathers from her teeth.
10 Employees and 5 Customers at a bank in Oklahoma rode out the tornado in this vault
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Sir Laurence Olivier
(Source: vitima-do-dualismo, via theradnessqueen)