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Interested in reading more about Duncan Blood? Then take a look at "Blood's Journals: Selections from Duncan Blood's Memoirs." From the back cover: "Duncan Blood's life has spanned three centuries and he is a force to be reckoned with. Gathered within are selections from several of the journals he has kept for the past thirty decades and they offer a glimpse into the man. In addition to his thoughts there are photographs from the events he wrote about. Documentation of the people and creatures he has seen, interacted with, and -- when necessary -- killed. Duncan Blood is a fighter, and a man who has time on his side." Check out my profile for the link to the paperback! #horror #paranormal #supernatural #halloween

Disaster and Calamity: A Raging Sea The Atlantic is an unforgiving entity. It is, in truth, a wrathful God who seeks to destroy those who love it best. Cross has been witness to this harsh truth for centuries. Early into the twentieth century, a group of sailors on leave from Boston decided to take a pleasure cruise along the coast near the mouth of the Cross River. It was a poor decision. The sea had been rough for the better part of three days, and it had tossed larger, more seaworthy vessels onto the shore. Our life-saving station had been busy, and only a handful were still able to man their posts. I was there as a favor to a cousin, hoping that we would not be called out. I have no great love for the sea, nor does it have any for me. My hopes were dashed, of course, as easily as the sailors against the rocks beneath the waves. What hellish creature upended their small craft, I do not know. Considering the wounds I saw on the survivors and the bodies we were able to recover, I count myself lucky in not having seen it. Of the nine sailors who took their little trip that day, only four survived, and each of them was wounded. We recovered the bodies of two others, and some of the parts for three more. When I asked if anything had predicated the attack, the answer was a unanimous ‘no.’ They had been sailing, and then they were fighting for their lives. I went down to the beach a short time later and stood there, trying to determine what happened. As I pondered the situation, a head tumbled out of the waves. The eyes had been torn out, and I understood the message perfectly well. It was time to go home while I still could. #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #halloween #ghoststories #paranormal

Disaster and Calamity: Vengeful Some people, I suppose, still might consider the destruction of the Good Fellowship Church a disaster of some sort. Personally, I don’t know why. Cross has been the home to many churches over its existence. Few have survived intact for the duration. Many end up like the Good Fellowship Church, which is for the best. There is no dominant theology in Cross. Instead, there is a pantheon which ranges from negligent to horrific, with more in the latter than the former. I don’t know what the congregation of the Good Fellowship did to annoy their particular God. I don’t know if it was the result of one parishioner's actions, or anyone’s. What I do know is that on a bright and sunny morning in October, their God came calling. There were reports of a little girl walking into the building after most of the congregation had gathered for their Sunday worship. A few minutes later, the building exploded from within. Within an hour, the entire structure was destroyed. There were no survivors. I was there when the dead were hauled out. What struck me as unusual was the fact that the tongue had been torn out of every person. I found them gathered in a pair of large chalices on the altar. Pristine and untouched by the flames. I suppose the God had tired of listening to them talk. #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #halloween #ghoststories #paranormal

Disaster and Calamity: Loss Disease and disaster are never easy to overcome. Invariably, we lose something of ourselves. In 1912, this was driven home when a strange illness afflicted residents of Elm Street and only Elm Street. Seven people came down with the disease. Rather, seven young men between the ages of 18 and 23. The young men lived in a pair of boarding houses, each across the street from the other. On Saturday, the men woke up, prepared to go to work, and ate their morning meals. They were, by all accounts, hale and hearty at seven in the morning. By 7:30, all were struck low, screaming and clawing at their faces. Of the seven men, only one of them, Alexander Keel, survived the experience. While his unfortunate co-victims died screaming in agony, Alexander took the drastic step of cutting his entire face off. Surprisingly, he survived the massive shock to his system through the valiant efforts of the local Red Cross and a pair of doctors who had learned their trade fighting the Indian Wars. Eventually, when he was well enough to communicate again, Alexander was asked why he had mutilated himself. His answer was simple and to the point. “Better alive mutilated than dead and whole.” I would have to agree. #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #halloween #ghoststories #paranormal

Disaster and Calamity: Inferno In all honesty, I thought Jonathan Coffin had died in 1867 when fire tore through the small home he kept on an island in Blood Lake. Part of my reason for this belief was the length of time in which the fire burned: 72 years. It was a smokeless, terrible fiend which could not be approached for fear of death. I forbade any attempts to examine the flames and threatened the Cross Branch of Miskatonic University with several lawsuits (which, it turns out, is the best way to repel any interest they might have in a subject). On a warm day in October, I noticed that the fire no longer burned on what had become, not surprisingly, known as Fire Island by some of Cross’ less than imaginative residents. As soon as I discovered the absence of flames, I set sail for the island and saw immediately that there were other intrepid investigators as well. I later learned that they were graduate students from Miskatonic, whose curiosity drove them forward. It also cost them their lives. I was pulling into the lee of the island when I heard gunshots. By the time I reached the students, I found all five of them dead, and Jonathan Coffin sitting in front of his home. Luckily, Jonathan recognized me, and he allowed me to approach. I asked him where he had been for the past seven decades, and he shrugged. “Don’t know,” he replied, “but it was hotter ‘n Hell.” Well, I suppose he was right about that. #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #halloween #ghoststories #paranormal

Disaster and Calamity: The Flight 1936 saw the last flight of any sort of aircraft over Gods’ Hollow. For years I had been arguing for the prohibition of travel, either military or commercial, over Gods’ Hollow. I went so far as the State House in my attempts, calling in favors my family had cultivated over centuries. All my efforts were in vain. Air travel was coming into its own, and despite the Depression, far-sighted politicians saw the monetary benefits of refusing to place any prohibitions on that means of transportation. I wish I could say that the wreck of The Boston Zephyr had as victims several of those politicians. Unfortunately, as is so often the case, the two men who died were Army pilots attempting to map the Hollow from above. They paid for it with their lives, which I ended for them on Ash Court, their bodies engulfed in flames and half-eaten by the creatures which had brought the plane down. I am uncertain as to the exact heritage of the creatures. They appeared vaguely humanoid with wings and teeth similar to some of the blood-feeding bats in the lower Americas. When The Boston Zephyr had traveled over the Hollow, I watched the creatures rise up and swarm over the plane. I raced to town, following the erratic flight of the plane and arriving moments after it crashed. For several minutes I kept my Colts busy, laying waste to as many of the damned things as I could kill. Members of the militia joined in, and we made short work of 29 of the creatures. The pilots, doomed by their injuries, begged for death, and death I gave them. No one flies over the Hollow now. Occasionally, I see one of the creatures rise up, and I take my time with a long rifle to bring it down. It is a rather peaceful way to spend a summer evening. #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #halloween #ghoststories #paranormal

Photos of Cross

A beaver damn on Blood Farm.

The creeping burial ground.

Italian children found off the coast of the Atlantic.

Charles and Eustace Hellas near Coffin Farm.

Cross

Nicholas Efstathiou

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Cross, Massachusetts

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November 11

The creeping burial ground.

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Posted on November 17, 2018November 17, 2018Full size 309 × 395

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