November 6, 1891


I’m a great many things. Stupid isn’t one of them.

The house stood out like a sore thumb. Mostly because it wasn’t supposed to be there. And it wasn’t supposed to be there because there are never houses in Gods’ Hollow.


Not unless the place has shifted, and when that happens, well, it’s rarely a good thing.

I suspect the house was exactly where it was supposed to be in whatever Hollow they came from. And I suspect they believed it to be completely natural and inconspicuous, which just shows the level of their failure.

I stood on North Road, smoking my pipe and looking at the house for a terribly long time. Longer than I should have. Eventually, someone inside realized who I was, and they began to take potshots at me.

Not a damned one came close.

There’s always the chance they weren’t part of my relatives’ effort to drive me away from the Hollow, but these fools shot at me, so it was time to take them to task.

I went home, gathered up some supplies, and then returned to North Road, where I was greeted by a volley of shots from the house.

That was fine with me. It made the work all the easier.

The approach to the house from the road didn’t offer much cover, but that wasn’t a real issue. None of those inside could shoot worth a damn, which made me wonder how it was they planned on killing me.

By the time I got up close to the house, their aim got better. So much so that I had to draw one of the Colts and shoot into some of the windows to keep their heads down. Upon occasion, one of them would stick a rifle out and shoot blindly, but that wasn’t anything for me to fret about.

I worked my way around the building, and when I finished, I fired a few more shots into the house before I left my mark and made my way back to the road. From the building came laughter and insults, a few more random shots, and then, once I reached North Road, the first shouts of fear.

When they realized I’d set the house afire, they tried to get out the back, but that’s where I started the fire.

As the flames devoured the building, I took my time shooting down those who tried to run.

Unlike those men, I can shoot.

#fear #horrorstories #supernatural

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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