In Gods’ Hollow: May 10, 1912

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The screams were faint at first, nothing more than shrill whispers in the cold air of the tunnel.

When I realized what they were, I broke into a run.

Grimnir sprang from my shoulder, the raven’s great wings nearly touching the walls of the tunnel as he raced ahead of me. Within moments, he returned, and the screaming stopped.

“There is a door, Duncan Blood,” he told me. “Push through it.”

In moments, the door he had spoken of was before me. I did not slow down to grasp the latch and open it. Instead, I put my shoulder down and drove into it. I let out a grunt of pain as my shoulder popped out of its socket, and I paused only to slam it back into place. Bright lights filled the air, as did the painful scent of chemicals.

I found myself in an operating room, the likes of which I had not seen before. Everyone stopped what they were doing, the man holding the patient’s head staring at me.

The patient, I saw, was too tall and too old to be Johnny Coffin, and for that, I was glad. The doctors and nurses had opened the young man’s head, and I had interrupted them in the process of removing sections of his brain.

One of them started to speak, to break the silence, but I did it for them, drawing both Colts and opening fire.

The heavy slugs tore through them, ripping open stomachs and spilling guts across the sterile floor. Their blood mingled with that of their victim, and their shrieks of agony filled the room.

The door slammed shut behind me as I stepped fully into the room, and I kicked a doctor aside as I stepped up to the patient. I watched as the young man’s eyes darted about the room, finally settling on my face. He mouthed the word, ‘Please,’ and I nodded. A single round through the temple ended his suffering.

Those who had tortured him received no kindness. No reprieve.

When I finished with them, my back ached, and my arms were red to the elbows with their blood.

They were nailed to the walls with scalpels, their intestines draped around their necks.

I sat and listened as each of them begged for death.

I refused them that mercy.

#horror #monsters #supernatural #death

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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