When I reached the relative safety of Pennhurst, I walked aimlessly for hours until I found myself standing before the town graveyard. I noticed, for the first time, the odd angle of most of the headstones, and the strange, sunken depressions in the earth, as if a hundred small sink holes were slowly swallowing the entire cemetery whole. I quickly walked away from the graveyard, my mind reeling at the possibilities...Roughly three years have past since that day. I hear the noises with growing intensity and, once or twice a day, I catch a glimpse of them out of the corners of my eyes, before they dart out of my vision. The town is frightened. Animals and children keep disappearing, people comment on the irrepressible feeling of being watched by an invisible predator. Sometimes, when I’m sleeping outside with my rifle cradled in my arms, thinking about firing one final shot, I find myself muttering that same strange, soothing mantra of Harold’s and I am made calm— but I am also hungry. Venison cannot satiate me. I find myself watching the movements of the townspeople from the treetops, ravenous for something I dare not name.
Yet I cannot bring myself to enter the town, or to leave the dying area entirely. Today, I swear I saw the face of one of the ghouls; it bore a strong resemblance to my poor deceased friend. That brief glimpse reminded me of a time long ago, when both our families were alive and Harold and I were normal kids. I found an injured doe with its foreleg caught in the rusted jaws a wolf’s snare. Harold walked up to the animal, calmly touched its forehead, whispered some soothing words, and cut its throat without malice. He told me that it was a “mercy killing.” Such words for a boy! He then made me promise to do the same for him if he was ever in such a situation.
There are many of them now, and they are surely growing hungry.
Soon the cemetery will be empty and I will go to the mines to find Harold, to try and release him as I promised I would. I doubt I can though; I was never the killer he was. But I must try. And if I find that I cannot release him from his prison, I’m sure he’ll be more than capable of freeing me from mine.
Eh, what can I say, short but sweet. And I do see things crouching and gibbering out of the corners of my eyes--in case you were wondering. And yes, I do feel hungry.
