Duncan Blood, Journal for 1911: Home


It stands as I left it: burnt and bereft of life.

I hated those who lived in it, and when I was done killing them all, I made certain no one could live in their home.

In 1764, I swept through the home with nothing more than a warclub crafted for me by the Iroquois. With it, I brained the father and mother, and I dragged their corpses through the house for their grown son and daughter to see. I killed the son and the daughter, the servants, and the relatives living in other parts of the home.

The only living thing in the house to survive my rage was their dog, and I kept him with me for another decade before he passed.

Over the next century, whenever I would travel, I would hunt down and butcher whatever relatives of theirs I might find. All were slain with the warclub.

What, some may ask, did they do to offend me so, and why the warclub?

The father beat my sister to death when they were both seventeen. Why do I mention this now, on the 29th of June, 1911? Because some foolish prat came into town and bragged about how he was going to claim the familial estate.

It’s been close to a century since I killed any of that line. So tonight, I took my time.

It felt good to swing my warclub again.

#horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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