Strangers in Cross: Jan. 4, ‘38


They’re far more dangerous than I expected.

I was tracking the creature that had taken on the appearance of Claudette Roi. About halfway through the morning, she realized she was being followed, and rather than turn and try to face me, she fled.

There was no need for me to run. The path she was on led to Aaron Shea’s old house, and he’d been dead the better part of a decade. There was nowhere for her to hide.

Not from me.

I caught sight of her as she reached the front door, slammed it open, and vanished into the darkness. I paused long enough to draw both Colts, cock the hammers back, and to focus on the fight to come.

Except it never did.

When I crossed the threshold, there was an unholy scream from the back of the house and a horrific tearing sound. Both sent a chill through me and caused me to grip my weapons a bit tighter.

With quickening steps, I hurried to the back of the house and found a sight that set my teeth on edge.

Claudette Roi’s clothes were on the floor, as were her shoes.

The backdoor was open and had been for some time. Snow had drifted into the house, and in it, I could see not one set of tracks, but two.

The creature had not only returned to its original form, but it had split itself.

As I stood there, considering the situation, Grimnir landed on my shoulder, peering at me with his one good eye.

“Will you take one?” I asked though I knew the answer.

He let out a harsh, croaking laugh, and pushed off, wheeling sharply to the left.

With a sigh, I slid the Colts back into their holsters and turned off to the right.

There’d be no killing on my part today.

#horror #fear #art #writing

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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