Kumblant Zozeech – Very Sad Journal Of Very Sad Pygmy Were-Zompire – Two Part


One night in winter comes, dark but for milky shine of fat moon. I am in look-hut, cold even but I am snuggle in guard-blanket stitched by Grandmother Zozeech in time she not blind. This night I listen for owls in forest, hoot-hoot. I hear no hoot even but is perfect night for hunt mouse or vole. All shoosh, no wind.

I am at end of night guard, soon to bed. I wait for Frydeg arrive, do his guard. Frydeg is good friend of me. Most friend. We two are borned together, same day, me first. We grow together, do boy things together. We are like brother to brother, even but I have family brother. Now we are of thirteen years, come to be men, good men we two will be, Kumblant and Frydeg.

I watch for him. Sudden from forest come crashing of bush and crunch of leaf under foots. I take torch, shine down. ‘Frydeg, where you been?’ I say.

Yet but what I see is Tostidteekayk run from forest. Is pig-man of village. He run to foot of look-hut, wave up to me.

‘Kumblant, bring torch. Come,’ he say.

‘No. I am night-guard. What you want?’

‘Pigs are dead. All dead.’

I am not believe. I am suspect a thing not right – Tostidteekayk come from forest, yet but pigs live in small field, not forest. ‘Why you in forest?’ I say.

‘I chase. I wake to noise of kill pigs, I run from bed. See wolf. I chase in forest.’

‘I see no wolf. I hear no kill.’ I move shine of torch bright into face of Tostidteekayk. He seem to be more – more big, more hair, more ears, more eyes, more teeth. I say, ‘What you want, Tostidteekayk?’

He no speak. I keep torch shine at him, he keep stand there, one minute, two minute, three minute. I not move my eyes from look at him. Four minute, five minute, then –


O no – my clock! I have set to midnight, for end my time of night guard. It make me fright. I jump, and torch jump. I put torch shine back on Tostidteekayk. He is gone.

Where he go? I shine, shine all over, I walk slow round look-hut, shine every place down below. No Tostidteekayk.

Also no Frydeg – is time for end my night guard, Frydeg not here do his. I shine torch to door of Frydeg’s hut – is open. I lean out of look-hut, try see in Frydeg’s hut, shine torch in open door – I hear noise inside. I see nothing, yet but I hear noise like scratch, scratch, scratch.

Is Tostidteekayk?

I am very afright. Frydeg, his family. I lean more from look-hut, move torch shine slow to look hard in open door – no, I not see. And not hear. Is quiet, no scratch, no noise, no nothing. I wait. I am not move, I am like dead boy, my breath is stopped, my heart is not beat.

When it come, I fall back on floor of look-hut, terrifright. It is noise of ROAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH. It is come from Frydeg’s hut.


Leave a comment


  1. I word read. I word like. Would word read more. Different.

  2. Dear Dotty,

    Poor Kumblant, poor Frydeg. Tostidteekayk sounds like a scary pig-man, as pig-men go. I hope Frydeg and his family are okay!



  3. Dear Dotty,

    When did Sister Agony get the eyes? I love them — they suit her!



    • Dear Judith,

      She’s had them for a while now. Some people don’t like them, they think they’re creepy but I’m with you, they suit her. 🙂

      Love Dotty xxx

  4. Hi Dotty,

    Thanks for sharing more of Kumblant’s story with us. I know it is a completely innapropriate response to such a tragic tale, but for some reason reading it made me hungry.

    -The Dead Guy

    • Dear Dead Guy,

      Now that IS a very strange reaction to a sad story. Very strange.
      Go and have a nice Cumberland sausage sandwich or eight.

      Love Dotty xxx

  5. Dorothy

     /  May 19, 2012

    Dear Dotty,

    Had me glued to my seat once again. Terribly sad. Do we get to vote on an ending?

    Love Dorothy

  6. Dear Dotty,

    What a sad story! Poor Frydeg! I am scared for him! Also, is he any relation to another pygmy were-zombie named Boyldeg? I met him several years ago.

    I hope Kumblant tells the next part of his story soon.

    xoxo Mme Weebles

    • Dear Mme Weebles,

      I’ll ask him if he’s related to Boyldeg when he calls in on Monday. Where did you meet him? I think he’ll be interested to know because from what I can gather he doesn’t have any family left living.

      Love Dotty xxx

      • It was several years ago–one of the Weebles met Boyldeg, but he was very vague as to the details of how he met him. Maybe they’re distant cousins or something.

      • Dear Mme Weebles,

        I’ll mention it.

        Love Dotty xxx

  7. Dear Dotty,

    How write you this with smart?


  8. I also am terrifright! When for more story? Eagerness!

  9. Dear Dotty,
    As I read your wonderful stories, I think of this song for some reason:

    We are sitting at the bar. You are our Piano man♥♥♥
    Love Lis

    • Dear Lisa,

      Aaaww, thank you. 🙂

      I don’t know the song, but I’ll have a look for the lyrics to see what it’s about (can’t hear it, sorry).

      Love Dotty xxx

      • Piano Man by Elton John
        It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday
        The regular crowd shuffles in
        There’s an old man sitting next to me
        Makin’ love to his tonic and gin

        He says, “Son, can you play me a memory
        I’m not really sure how it goes
        But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete
        When I wore a younger man’s clothes.”

        la la la, di da da
        La la, di di da da dum

        Sing us a song, you’re the piano man
        Sing us a song tonight
        Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody
        And you’ve got us all feelin’ all right

        Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
        He gets me my drinks for free
        And he’s quick with a joke and he’ll light up your smoke
        But there’s some place that he’d rather be
        He says, “Bill, I believe this is killing me.”
        As his smile ran away from his face
        “Well I’m sure that I could be a movie star
        If I could get out of this place”

        Oh, la la la, di da da
        La la, di da da da dum

        Now Paul is a real estate novelist
        Who never had time for a wife
        And he’s talkin’ with Davy, who’s still in the Navy
        And probably will be for life

        And the waitress is practicing politics
        As the businessman slowly gets stoned
        Yes, they’re sharing a drink they call loneliness
        But it’s better than drinkin’ alone

        sing us a song you’re the piano man
        sing us a song tonight
        well we’re all in the mood for a melody
        and you got us all feeling alright

        It’s a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
        And the manager gives me a smile
        ‘Cause he knows that it’s me they’ve been comin’ to see
        To forget about their life for a while
        And the piano, it sounds like a carnival
        And the microphone smells like a beer
        And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
        And say, “Man, what are you doin’ here?”

        Oh, la la la, di da da
        La la, di da da da dum

        sing us a song you’re the piano man
        sing us a song tonight
        well we’re all in the mood for a melody
        and you got us all feeling alright

      • Dear Lisa,

        Thank you. 🙂

        Love Dotty xxx

  10. You should be writing novels. This is freekin awesome.
    The names crack me up, but the story has real tension.


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