Dr. NoSleep (host)

He throws the bricks over his shoulder, prepared for the noise they make, happy with the cacophony.

An amber glow flickers from under the last layer of bricks.

Sumner claps his hands, thrilled that his effort has produced results.

Sumner, see you!

He snatches the source of the glow with one hand.

It's a lively spirit, one that tries to wriggle and squirm out of Sumner's grip.

But Sumner never loses his grip.

What be thee?

He shoves the squirming, amber spirit into his open maw and clamps down with his sharpened teeth.

There is no true substance to the spirit, yet it still feels firm as he chews.

Perhaps Sumner is inventing the feeling?

So desperate to choose something corporeal that he imagines it all.

He swallows and belches again.

This time, the history that fills his mind is too intense, too much even for Sumner.

The creature spins in circles, batting his fists against the sides of his head.

Bright pain flashes through Sumner's skull.

The history is nothing but blood, so much blood.

Sumner likes blood, revels in it at times, but not so much that he feels it shall spill out of his ear holes.

Sumner cries.

Then he hits himself a little too hard, and the darkness is filled with stars and sprites and then, true darkness.