I should explain. I have a toddler. He watches toddler TV shows. I am a geek. If Cthulhu had a TV show, I would be right there. This is what happens when our interests collide. It might be the beginnings of a one-shot game, if there are any sufficiently fucked up people out there.
Mother Pontipine warned you. Yes, she did. It’s the way things are. Ten Pontipines leave the house, and ten eventually return. No more, no less.
Until today.
Today, ten Pontipines left their little house. And seven returned.
Mother and Father searched high and low for you all afternoon and into the evening, but they did not find you. The sun slipped inexorably toward the horizon, and they were forced to retreat to the safety of home, bolting the door in three places behind them.
The sun sets upon the Night Garden. One by one, its inhabitants go to sleep, until at last Iggle Piggle is the only one remaining. Before long, he disappears off in his boat to the other world, leaving the Night Garden before night truly falls. So it is every day. He does not know.
He does not know what the Pontipines know; the truth about the Garden.
The reason they lock the doors at night. The reason no human child walks the grass of the Garden any more.
For Night in the Night Garden is true night, absolute night. Night in which terrors stalk the land, twisted dark echoes of their former selves, all teeth and blood and knives and tentacles and horror beyond all imagining.
And you are outside, little Pontipines. Outside, at night.
Oopsie-daisy.