A Gruber is a fell and foul creature, covered in boils that explode into puffs of yellow farts when popped.
A Gruber’s eyes are covered in scales so it to see only what it wants to see, and its ears are stuffed full of nettles so it does’t have to be bothered with what others have to say.
A Gruber has hot coals attached to its feet so its always hopping about impatiently.
Gruber’s have fierce claws and thick arms covered in spikes, which makes them ill suited to warm hugs.
Gruber’s are always complaining but their hoarse voices come out in clouds of mumbles.
Which is for the best as Grubers never have anything nice to say. Nor are their words in response to anything you may have said, but rather, they are dead retorts to arguments hatched long ago.
A Gruber is not without hope, there is a magic kiss for every toad.
A Gruber has one too, of sorts. Though you needn’t brush your lips against its slimy, disgusting skin.
That magic kiss as it were, that can wash away the Gruber’s ugliness to reveal something beautiful is a simple incantation. Two words that dull the edge of broken glass.
This simple spell can undo so much. The magic of these small words is more powerful still when fault is not so clearly defined.
Grubers are everywhere.
Mirrors are their favorite places to hide.
An “I’m sorry” to my daughters for sometimes being a big a-hole.
WordPress Weekly Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction