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Cross, Massachusetts

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Reapers’ Portraits: March 1925 She was waiting for me on my porch, and she surprised the hell out of me, which is no mean feat. I was about to ask the child what her name was when she smiled at me and I knew she didn’t have one. “Are you here for me?” I asked her. The child shook her head. “I want to speak to you. Walk with me to Charles.” I took my pipe and my coat, and I walked with the reaper. “Things are moving faster now,” she informed me. “There will be more of us. Many more. And you will have your work set before you as well.” “What work is that?” I inquired. She smiled. “The kind of work you’re good at Duncan Blood. The kind of work you’ve been doing since you killed your first man.” I nodded and lit my pipe. “Will there be many?” “That depends on who’s doing the counting.” “Who is?” She laughed. “We are. Yes, Duncan Blood, there will be many.” I lit my pipe, and we continued for a distance in silence. Finally, she asked, “Does this bother you?” “No. Not when it needs doing. Which I suppose is the next question. Does it need doing?” “It always needs doing,” she intoned somberly. “It is what my kind is about, Duncan Blood. It is what you are made to do. Why do you think your family is so long-lived? You prepare the souls for us to reap.” “Do I perform my job well, Reaper?” The child looked up at me and smiled. “You are the finest your line has ever produced.” I left her at Charles’ studio, and when I stopped by a short time later and asked what information she had left, he showed me. “March 18, Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky.” #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #ghoststories #paranormal #reaper

Reapers’ Portraits: January 1922 I must confess, she turned my head when I saw her enter Charles’ studio. She smiled coyly, sat down, and asked me how I had enjoyed the war. The business-like manner in which she posed the question told me she was a reaper. My response was that there were moments where it was thrilling, but for the most part, killing is a chore. I had spent the majority of a decade away from Cross, and I had decided it was time for me to check on Charles. He was thinner and prone to nervous outbursts. His walls were covered with the portraits of reapers. He cowered at the sight of the reaper and crept into his studio to prepare his material. She shook her head sadly when he had gone. “He asks too many questions,” she told me. “And he has received too many honest answers. He is damaged. Will you help continue the family’s work?” I nodded. She smiled at me. “You’re a devil of a man, Duncan Blood. I was there, you know.” “Where?” “Aprémont,” she winked. “Did you think their hearts would not be missed?” “I didn’t think of it one way or another,” I answered. “I was angry.” “So were the Germans.” “Not angry enough,” I told her. The reaper laughed, leaned forward, and gave me a gentle kiss. “For luck.” Charles ushered her into the studio before I could ask why, and soon she was gone, waving gayly to me as she went. Charles sagged into his seat, took out a new ledger, and jotted down the information she had given him. “January 28, Knickerbocker Theatre, Washington, District of Columbia.” #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #ghoststories #paranormal #reaper

Reapers’ Portraits: April 1912 In March of 1912, I was with Charles, helping him to compile the ledger into a more readable work when a man arrived. He walked in, nodded to the two of us, and entered the studio without a word. Charles and the stranger were gone for only a short time when they returned. Charles’ face was off-color, and he appeared nervous as he hurriedly turned the ledger to the next entry page. The gentleman leaned over and wrote his information down. “April 14, 1912, 11:40 PM, North Atlantic.” With this done, he straightened up and put his hat back on his head. He smiled at both of us and then addressed me. “Duncan, I trust we will see you in Belgium.” Then, before I could respond, he tipped his hat to Charles, winked, and in a dramatic whisper added, “You, Mr. Aldrich, are going to be quite busy over the next few years.” Whistling La Marseillaise, he left the studio. That reaper’s nonchalance would haunt me for decades. #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #ghoststories #paranormal #reaper

Hello! If you like antique photos and great posts about silent films, give @thegoldenageofsilence a follow! #thegoldenageofsilence #silentmovies #films

Reapers’ Portraits: March 1911 I noticed the dog before I noticed the reaper, which, I suppose, says a great deal about me. The reaper was dressed in the garb of a Red Cross worker, which was possibly why I didn’t pay her much heed at first. Only when I saw her turn toward Aldrich’s studio did I realize who she probably was. I entered the building a moment after she did, and I listened as Charles attempted to argue with her regarding the animal. The shepherd, being a good dog, merely sat and waited for the man to finish arguing with his mistress. When Charles finally paused for breath, the reaper smiled and spoke a line I have heard many times in the past. “I wish for my portrait to hang on the wall with my siblings.” The color drained from Charles’ face, and he stuttered over his apologies, assuring the reaper she could bring the dog with her. I had seen a few reapers clad in uniforms in the past, but they were generally for the military. The fact that this particular reaper wore the Red Cross uniform piqued my curiosity, but I held my tongue. She would tell me if she wanted me to know. Charles hustled back out a few minutes later and fawned over the reaper as he escorted her and the dog into the studio. They were in for a short time, and when they came out, Charles couldn’t speak. Finally, he managed to clear his throat, and in a hoarse voice he asked me to take down the information in the ledger. Before I could agree, he rushed out of the room, vomiting. I took out the ledger, and the reaper smiled at me. “March 25th,” she said. “Greenwich Village, Manhattan. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory.” I thanked her, jotted the information down, and asked, “What bothered him so?” “He asked to know what I would do, and I told him I would kill by fire.” She shrugged. “Then the little fool asked what it was like, and I let him smell it.” I nodded. The smell of burning flesh is not easily forgotten. #horror #CrossMassachusetts #monsters #supernatural #skulls #death #fear #evil #horrorobsessed #scary #ghosts #DuncanBlood #ghoststories #paranormal #reaper

Good Morning! I received copies of my book, 'Blood's Journals'! This is a 270 page paperback containing three months of Duncan Blood's journals from several different years and they have the photos for each journal entry as well. If you're interested in purchasing a copy for $10 + shipping, sent me a message! #CrossMassachusetts #horrorobsessed #horror #fear #books #massachusetts

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.

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Nicholas Efstathiou

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Cross, Massachusetts

Cross, Massachusetts

November 3, 1909

Italian children found off the coast of the Atlantic.

Survivors of an attack on a small boat. Their parents, Tried to outrun Death.

Posted on November 17, 2018November 17, 2018Full size 917 × 668

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Published inNovember 3, 1909

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