A/N: This is in response to a challenge made by misterfuzzums, a guy that spammed one of my user forums. Enjoy it, man. This story is fairly dark, and not suitable for younger readers. It’s also very short. Sorry about that. There’s also an alternate ending that I’ll post later. Leave a review so I can know how this story is.

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He was in the dark place again. This was where he always ended up, whether his bubble addiction was sated or not. Blowing bubbles around things; it had been his heroin ever since he came out of his egg. The dinosaur whimpered as he fought the terrifying horrors of the dark place.

“No…NO!” he screamed, as he sank further into the murky depths of hell.

Quickly, he blew a bubble. His mind eased itself, only to return to utter panic as he looked around him once again. He blew more bubbles, and each time the same thing happened.

The little dinosaur screamed a throaty, horrible scream as his addiction took control. He could no longer stop the bubbles. He had to blow them. He had to…

The dinosaur blacked out from hyperventilation.

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When he came to, he found himself surrounded by flames. He tried to blow a bubble; that always seemed to ease his mind; but he found that he could not.

The dinosaur let out a terror-filled cry as all the enemies that he had blown bubbles around came toward him. The stench of decay filled the air as their rotting flesh buzzed with maggots and worms. As they lurched toward him, he frantically attempted once again to blow a bubble, but still could not. The phantasms laughed at him, a creaky, musty, and above all, dead laugh. They reached him, grabbed him, ripped him apart…

Before his vision blurred and went black for the last time, he saw something. It was almost too bright to look at, and he suddenly realized why.

The hand was on fire. As he died, he heard a booming voice, laughing maliciously, as if to say “You are mine!”… Ever laughing…

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Fin…