War in the Hollow: Dec. 17, ‘36

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I keep my promises.

It is hard to imagine the old women as complicit in the destruction of the towns and houses I have seen. To see them as active participants in the filling of graveyards and the unleashing of beasts upon the unsuspecting.

But the hound and I understand our task.

We understand the past as well as the present, and through the lens of both, we can see the future.

We are, like so many before us, mere instruments of fate. Of that, I am quite certain.

The old women before me, standing and chatting in the cool morning air, were once young women. They have raised their sons to raid and raze other worlds. More importantly, their sons and grandsons have sought to conquer my Cross, and that is a crime I cannot abide.

It is not in my nature to forgive.

I promised my cousin that I would slay all I found in this place. Men, women, and children. Regardless of age or guilt, they would all die by my hand.

I have not stayed my hand. Earnest father and suckling babe have all fallen beneath the thunder of my guns; it should not – and will not – be any different for the aged dames engaged in pleasant conversation.

That they know who I am cannot be doubted.

When I step out onto the street, Colts drawn and the hound growling at my side, their faces go pale, and the men reach for their weapons.

I let the men know fear and rage as I gun down their old women in front of them.

The men are splattered with the brains and guts of the aged ladies, and as the men draw their weapons, I kill them too.

Reloading my pistols, Thorn and I enter this place of sanctuary and begin the slaughter.

I keep my promises.

#horror #fear #art

Published by

Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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