Mr. Jones's Dream Bedroom

Bones crunched under Mr. Jones's feet as he stepped into his bedroom. He examined the paintings that lined his walls, ensuring that they were positioned properly. One showed a flaming skull; another depicted a lupine skeleton on a hilltop, head pointed at a full moon; and the third was of a floating black skeleton with only a spine, ribcage, shoulders, and three heads-- Xairiag, The Witherer. All the paintings were properly crooked.

Mr. Jones sat down on his ethrolith bed. The red stone was warm to the touch, and covered only by a thin mattress. The smell of acrid smoke drifted in through the window, and he turned to enjoy the view of his neighbors' houses, engulfed in beautiful orange flame.

He reached into the bucket on his bedside table, pulled out a giant spider eye, and popped it into his mouth. As the eye crunched between his teeth, a bitter, slightly fishy taste filled his mouth. While listening to his neighbors agonized screams, Mr. Jones ate several more spider eyes, then washed them down with some milk. He lay down to sleep, content in the knowledge that his guard dogs would protect him from any angry villagers who might manage to survive the inferno.