Chasing Them Down: Day 13

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Whether he is evil or mad, I’ll kill him all the same.

I slept little last night. Most of the dark hours were spent conversing with creatures who prefer the shadows, and best remain there for their own health.

It is rare that I seek their input, but I need to find Pastor Davies. And it is a need – neither a want nor a desire. The man needs to die.

The dark creatures have put me on his trail, and I can smell it now, a foul and rotten stench that turns my stomach and causes my fingers to itch for the triggers of my Colts.

With a quick cup of coffee and a bit of bread, I started out from Amherst and made it Nashua, NH, a little later in the day. I followed the Pastor’s trail, and as I moved along with it, I heard a deep and horrific wailing rise up.

The trail, not surprisingly, curved down toward it.

I walked onto a small road, and there, stretched out on the hardpacked dirt, was a man and a woman. They both lay on their backs, their lifeless eyes staring up to the afternoon sky. Their shirts were rent and bloodied, as though a wild beast had attacked them.

And perhaps that’s what the Pastor is now. Nothing more than a wild beast that needs to be put down.

The wailing came from a young boy, standing off to one side and being comforted by his grandfather.

Other people were coming out of their homes, and several women came and took the weeping child from the old man.

The man looked at me, his eyes filled with sadness. “A man of God did this.”

I nodded.

“Long ago?”

He shook his head. “Ten minutes, maybe five. He went toward the river. You might catch him, but he was spry as hell.”

I thanked the man for the information and eased my way through the gathering crowd. My nostrils flared as I caught the scent of Pastor Davies and followed his trail.

It led down a steep riverbank, and there, half in, and half out of the water was the body of a young man. From what I could see, there had been a boat, but it was gone. Like Pastor Davies.

I turned and followed the riverbank and the current, hoping to catch him before he killed again.

#horror #monsters #supernatural #death

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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