The Bad Idea lounged on its Throne of Nightmares.

It had what it wanted. Oh, it had taken all night but, in the end, Santa and that brat of his had broken and told it what it wanted to know.

On reflection, it hadn’t taken that long at all. Maybe just 40 minutes. 10 after it told them what it wanted.

But it was having so much fun that it made it last all night.

And the idea was simple.

It chuckled. Oh – such a wit. It saw what it did there.

No. It worked like this – implant the idea of an idea over there. Wait for someone to grasp that idea. And then it becomes reality.

Or..something like that.

It drummed its fingers together. There were some finer points to iron out. It’s not as if there was a tentacled god on the other side that he could pass the idea of itself into.


It hadn’t thought about this in any real sense. It couldn’t find a point in the timeline it could access that it crossed ov-


Oh. How droll.

It roared with laughter. How would it be able to see itself? It wouldn’t exist in the Idea Timestream. It would exist over there!

And  there was a point, very soon, where it just ceased to register on this side at all.

Oh – it was all coming together.

And the plan was glorious.

It would carry on seeding the idea of itself into the minds of fools, the deranged, the dangerous, the powerful. But this time the idea would carry a command: Sacrifice. Spill blood and open a portal.

A ritual to be written from the delirious dream of some madman years before. And then lost forever.

The Bad Idea stood – speaking to itself.

“Going back, invading a dream, compelling a book to be written – that was child’s play. And I can seed the myth of the book throughout time. And it will only take one of them to attempt the ritual. One of them to grasp my idea.

“And as soon as that is done, I will walk The Other Side and bring pain and terror unimaginable.”

It started shouting, shaking it’s fist, flecks of acidic spit forming, and flying from, its twitching, writhing tentacles.

“And I will be the pathway through which other, lesser, bad ideas would cross over. I will rule them all. Physical and terrible. Every dawn would be blood red with the suffering of MY-“

It stopped, suddenly aware of what it was doing.


It had been ranting. Ranting in the dark.

To no one at all.

How…how could that have happened. It coughed, suddenly embarrassed.


But it was a glorious plan.


Today’s photo was supplied, once again, by Kostika.