From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.
April 17, 1930.
I spent most of the day walking through the Hollow. Shortly before sunset, I was of the opinion that the Hollow had nothing to show me for the day.
On my return toward the boundary between my lands and those of the Hollow, I learned I was wrong. Gods’ Hollow did have something it wanted me to see.
A passenger car, to a railroad for which I could see no name, lay in a field, flanked on either side by old equipment. While all were interesting to me, only the old rail car drew me on. I approached it carefully, with the caution that had served me well thus far in my later years.
Within the rusting steel hulk, I found a scene of destruction. All the seats were torn out, windows shattered from the inside. Old bits of fabric rustled in a light breeze. Ancient blood still stank of iron and teeth from a dozen heads were scattered about the car.
Of the victims, I could find nothing larger than a molar. The few words I discovered were written in a language I did not know, and while I tried to understand it, the letters were too elusive.
I have left the car without any questions answered, while several new concerns have arisen.
Not the least of which is who seized the train and slew its occupants.
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