Cross and Miskatonic University: Two


Neat and orderly.

Doctor Chas Leith lived off-campus in a small, tidy home. He had been a widower for the better part of twenty years, and after he retired from teaching geology at the main campus, he had taken a position on the board in Cross.

It was a poor decision on his part.

When the sun crested the horizon, I followed Dr. Leith from his home to a small office in the Department of Natural Sciences. It was, I knew, his one stipulation for taking moving to Cross. He needed a place to call his own outside of his home and on school grounds.

I appreciated this caveat.

It made the task easier.

Dr. Leith was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice me, and I was not making any great effort to remain hidden from him. He even went so far as to hold the door open for me as I entered the building behind him.

He was only truly surprised when I stepped into his office.

The good doctor opened his mouth to ask me a question, but a sharp strike to his larynx silenced him and sent him staggering back to his desk. I caught him by his tie as his glasses went clattering across the floor, and I slammed him down into his chair. As he tried to escape my grasp, I drove his letter opener through his right hand, pinning it to the arm of his chair, and then I used his scissors to secure his right in the same fashion.

That freed his voice, and he managed a solitary shriek before I shoved the phone’s handset into his mouth, breaking teeth as I bound it in place with the cord.

I closed the window and drew the blinds, ensuring that we had some semblance of privacy before anyone became aware of my presence on the grounds. Soon enough, they would find Dr. Smyth’s remains, and it wouldn’t take them long to figure out who had done it and why.

I had to make the most of the situation.

Picking up Dr. Leith’s pipe, I filled it with some of his tobacco, lit it, and enjoyed a pleasant smoke as I let the enormity of his predicament settle over him.

Smiling, I drew my pen knife, opened it up, and went about the long and tedious process of removing his face.

#horror #fear

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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