War in the Hollow: Dec. 12, ‘36

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They left me a gift, ‘though they didn’t know it.

I came into a small offshoot of this Cross and found a group of houses stretched out along the right side of the narrow road.

A foul odor tainted the air and raised the hackles on the hound’s back. I had the Colts in my hands ‘ere I’d walked a half dozen steps, and I was glad I did.

Out of the homes came a slew of goblins, immune to the effects of the sun upon them. I’d seen their kind once before and on one of my own islands in Blood Lake. While I’d been surprised then, I wasn’t now.

The goblins were dressed in the cast-off rags of men, holding bayonets and broken swords, axes and staves of wood with nails driven through them.

The goblins screamed as they raced toward me, and I let my Colts speak for me.

In a heartbeat, more of the creatures were rushing from the homes, and my guns thundered, silent only as I reloaded. Thorn was in amongst them, tearing out hamstrings and the throats of those that fell.

I brained one of them with the butt of a pistol, finished my reloading, and did my killing again.

In a matter of moments, their will to fight broke, and they fled to the houses, although I’m not sure what sanctuary they thought they were going to find.

I reloaded again, walked forward, and set the first of the houses on fire.

Any that came out the front door, I slew, and Thorn corralled those that tried to exit by way of the windows.

Soon, the last of the houses burned in the afternoon sun, and Thorn and I paused long enough for a quick meal.

The stench of burning meat lingered in the air, and soon, with the hound by my side, we set out on the road again.

Thorn’s tail was wagging, and I was humming.

It was a fine day.

#horror #fear #art

Published by

Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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