Granted. It's a very nicely crafted lampshade that makes the room around you look like a dimly lit forest, with shadows of branches thrown off into the distance. You decide to leave it on when you go to sleep. One night you wake up at 3AM and, for a fleeting moment, you see something snarling in the shadows. You wake up and live your life as normal, but never rid yourself of your lingering uncertainty and the fear of being hunted. You die at an old age in a different house on a different bed, but the eyes of your corpse are wide and staring, your mouth open to a scream.
I wish for the lower half of a horse.
I wish for the lower half of a horse.