Pym’s House, 1936


Jordan Pym was a hard man.

He lived just over the northern border of Cross and could often be found working his fields drunk on rye whiskey he made himself.

I’d spent a peaceful night at home; the new pup curled up against me and my Colts close at hand. I named the dog Terror, fed him some eggs and set him loose in the barn so he could get a feel for the place. The horses and the ravens would watch out for him.

Leaving the pup in their charge, I went to the shack where I’d slain the vampires the day before and picked up Virginia’s trail.

I followed it reluctantly, knowing full well that the girl could have hidden her tracks from me. It seemed that she wanted me to see something, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it.

I reached Pym’s house about eight in the morning, and I found the place shut up tight. I considered breaking in as I made my way back to the front of the house, but then I stopped when I saw the well.

A single word was scratched into the wood.


On the ground beside it, held in place by a stone, was a note. I picked it up, unfolded it, and read the message written in a graceful hand.

Duncan Blood, this man was bad. He hurt boys. Their bodies are in his basement. He will not like the sun. Virginia Du Sang.

I folded the note, tucked it into my pocket and turned my head to gaze up at the sky.

Sparrows flew above me, and not a cloud marred the perfect blue expanse.

I took hold of the rope, felt a heavy weight at the end of it, and began to pull.

For a moment, there was only the creak of the pulley, but then a long, low moan reverberated in the well. It ricocheted off the stones, rose up, and formed a desperate, “No!”

The rope caught on something, and I pulled harder, anger lending me strength. I saw the tip of a boot, then a bit of pale skin. Within a heartbeat, the flesh was in the sun, and the skin bubbled and smoldered. I caught hold of the leg and threw Pym onto the grass, planting my foot on the center of his chest and pinning him in place as the sun seared the blight off the earth’s face.

Pym screamed the entire time, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

#fear #horrorstories #paranormal

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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