By Edward Gorey
A strange creature—massive, claw-footed, and beset with impossibly small, sad eyes—skulks among unsuspecting tunnel-goers. This behemoth, the Uluus, was supposed to be extinct. The lone child taking pause in its presence on St. Frumble’s Day, 1892, in the tunnel between East Shoetree and West Radish, knows better. While genteel folk furtively pass a note, steal a moment, or make their way to and fro under skull-laden archways, the Uluus bides its time.