I did think that I’d finished the October Frights blog-hop, but it seems not. After many requests from the general public (and certain ‘suggestions’ to my solicitor), I am able to release just a fragment from the scorched manuscript draft of my banned work Sandra’s First Pony. Fortunately this is not the version with the dripping skin…

The evening sun slumped on the horizon, lighting the high moors with all the vigour of a badly-poached egg. It was going to rain as well, despite what the barometer at home had said.

That’s not going to help, thought Sandra. She knew that every delve and hillock of this God-forsaken landscape held one or more of her foul adversaries. Such long shadows were their comfort, their slippers, pipe and fireside…

She smoothed a faint crease from her jodphurs, and reloaded the pump-action shot-gun.

“Well, Mr Bubbles, this is jolly annoying. I’m out of cheese and ham sandwiches, the dog’s run off and we only have seventeen cartridges left. What are we going to do, boy?”

The pony stared at her. His mane still shone, despite the incompetent light, and the ribbons from his big red rosette flapped in the growing wind. Second Place in the Ripon and District Pony Show. Second Place! Primordial evil wasn’t going to take that away from him.

He turned his head and saw the first glistening figures began to crawl from their hiding places. There was only one possible response. He scraped one front hoof against another, checking that there was still an edge on them.

“Kill.” said Mr Bubbles. “Kill them all!”

I think we’ve all been there, haven’t we, listeners?