April 20, 1930

From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.


April 20, 1930.

The house nearly killed me.

I was walking along the western edge of the Gods’ Hollow field when the house materialized not a dozen feet from me. It stank of cinders and charred air, roasted flesh, and sadness. Moaning came through the open windows while the entire structure groaned as it settled on its foundation.

The moans quickly changed into cries, which mutated into shrieks of desperation.

Against my better judgment, I entered the home.

The table was set for breakfast. Coffee boiled on the oven. A burnt woman stood by the back window, her hair gone and her flesh a horrific mockery of what it had once been. She turned to face me, her eyes melted within their sockets, her teeth blacked and cracked. With a scream of outraged sadness, she held her arms out to me.

I fired a single shot from each of the Colts and blew her brains out over the wall.

It was all I could do for her.

For a short time, I stood there. Then, I walked to the oven, found a cup and poured myself some coffee. The warmth of it chased the chill horror of Gods’ Hollow out of the pit of my stomach as I left the house to continue my search for the missing.

#CrossMassachusetts #horror #house #nightmare #fear #alternatereality #supernatural #scary #skull #gods


April 18, 1930

From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.


April 18, 1930.

I am not quite sure how I came upon the necropolis, or how it came to be in Gods’ Hollow. Then again, I should have learned by now not to question anything about the Hollow. I found the necropolis, and that should suffice.

For hours, I wandered among headstones and mausoleums, crypts and half-forgotten graves. A short time before the sun began its descent, I discovered the boneyard. Acres of excavated human bones spread out before me, a drear reminder of the fate that awaits us all. As I stood on the boneyard’s edge, I heard a curious sound. It was reminiscent of branches rattling against one another in a winter breeze, of boys dragging sticks along the sides of a fence.

My attention turned toward the center of the boneyard, where the noise seemed to originate from. In silence, I watched as a small wave of bones was created. It pushed out from the center and spread, like the ripple on a pond’s surface. As the wave of bones drew nearer, I understood suddenly that there was something beneath the bones. Something coming for me.

With my Colts gripped futilely in my hands, I retreated from the boneyard, and I prayed that whatever was beneath the bones would not leave the safety of the dead.

#CrossMassachusetts #horror #house #nightmare #fear #alternatereality #supernatural #scary #skull #gods

April 10, 1930

From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.


April 10, 1930.

I have known fear in my life, and today I was frightened.

I discovered a path that curled around the eastern edge of Gods’ Hollow, leading into the morning sun as it rose and burned off the fog. For nearly an hour I walked at a steady pace, pausing to listen and to look, to seek out signs of the missing.

After nine, I stopped and heard my name.

A soft, beckoning recitation of my first, middle, and last names. Sweetly spoken, a fine, darting needle piercing my heart and taking control of my limbs. Hardly conscious of my own movements, I stumbled along the path, following the voice.

It was the voice of a woman, an elegant and cultured creature who’s tone and form was reminiscent of my youth, when the Indians still raided, and America had not broken away from her King.

The path dipped down and revealed a crypt, a great iron door sunken into it and clinging vines growing up and around the hewn granite. The name ‘Carter’ was emblazoned above the door, and here, her voice grew stronger.

My fingers itched, and my muscles jerked as she bade me to free her, to open the door and to let her out.

Did I not want her lips upon my throat? Did I not long for her breath against my flesh?

I did.

And when I realized what it was that I wanted, I broke free of her.

At that moment, her furious scream shook the Hollow in its entirety.

Birds took to the air, and in the distance, I heard sporadic gunfire from the militia.

I tore grass from the earth and clamped handfuls of the stuff to my ears as I fled her prison.#CrossMassachusetts #horror #house #nightmare #fear #alternatereality #supernatural #scary #skull #gods

April 4, 1930

From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.


April 4, 1930. I have found Thornhill’s School, a private academy that vanished only twenty-three years ago.

I did not expect to find much when I entered the structure for when Cross took the building, no one was in it.

I should have known better.

Among the old desks and the tattered primers, the cracked slate on the walls and the ever-present stale scent of chalk, I found the withered corpse of an old man. His clothes were little more than rags, and his hair, what remained, was long and white. The remnants of a beard clung to his face, and the nails on his fingers and toes were jagged, yellowed things more akin to talons than anything human.

Yet he was human. His clothes, while oddly cut, were recognizable as pants and shirt. In the back pocket, I saw a wallet, and so I removed it, carrying the weathered leather out into the clear, crisp air of April.

The wallet reminded me of the peculiarities of Gods’ Hollow, and of how fickle fate could be.

Within the billfold was a driver’s license issued to one Allen James, age 23. His home address is listed as 18 Olive Street, Apartment D.

His date of birth, April 4, 1990.

I have replaced the wallet and left the body in the school.

It is the living I seek, not the dead.

#CrossMassachusetts #horror #house #nightmare #fear #alternatereality #supernatural #scary #skull #gods

April 3, 1930

From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.

April 3, 1930. I have brought the Colts with me. The pistols served me well for the entirety of the War of Secession, and on the rare occasions I have had need of them since Lee’s surrender.

I came upon Belle’s mansion, or what is left of it. Her home has been missing since before Lincoln was elected to office, and she was fortunate not to have been home when Cross claimed it as its own. Her brother, Axel, was not lucky, and so I entered the ruins of her home in search of his remains.

Instead, if found living beasts.

I can only assume that the creatures I encountered were the result of Belle’s missing brother having procreated with whatever fell beasts inhabit the place beyond Gods’ Hollow.

They were vaguely human and their voices were curiously pitched, the words unintelligible and difficult to bear as they clouded my thoughts. Their meanings became clear, however, when they attempted to take me prisoner.

I slew at least a score of them as I fought my way out of the ruins.

My hands ache and my body is numb. It has been years since I have killed so many at one time.

My ears still ring and I can still taste death in the air around me. Members of the Cross Militia have positioned themselves along the North Road to ensure the safety of the town.

I will allow no one else to enter Gods’ Hollow.

I fear that worse creatures await discovery.

#CrossMassachusetts #horror #house #nightmare #fear #alternatereality #supernatural #scary #skull #gods

April 1, 1930

From the Gods’ Hollow journal of Duncan Blood.

April 1, 1930, the first building of old Cross returned today.

When the sun rose on the far end of Gods’ Hollow, I saw the Colonel Saul Coffin house standing off to the east, much as it had when it vanished in 1731.

The house is damaged and looks as though a great battle was fought within and without its stout walls. How long Saul and his family lasted is beyond my reckoning at this point. I can only surmise that the duration of their suffering was short.

Saul’s skeleton, and that of his wife were on the second floor, crammed into the fireplace. Their three children are unaccounted for. I could find no trace of enemy bodies, although the Damned have been known to take their fallen with them.

An examination of Saul’s skull shows that he died from a single gunshot to the temple. Regina, his wife, had her vertebrae crushed.

Near the back of the house, I found the bones of Ezekiel, Saul’s dwarf twin. He was not as fortunate as his brother or sister-in-law. His bones were wired to the foundation, and it seems as though some sort of drill was used to separate his joints. All his teeth are missing, and the orbital sockets are cracked, which leads me to believe his eyes were removed rather roughly.

I suspect that some of the other buildings may return.

There is a chance that the Damned will come with them as well.

I will return in the morning, and I will be armed with the Colts.

#CrossMassachusetts #horror #house #nightmare #fear #alternatereality #supernatural #scary #skull #gods

March 31, 1919

Dr. Tobias Southington prided himself on his ability to debunk spiritualists and ghost stories.

In his travels along the Eastern Seaboard, he learned of the many peculiarities of Cross, and decided to pay the town a visit. Dr. Southington was well-known among literary circles for a variety of articles he had written regarding the ignorance of most of the population and their willingness to believe in the supernatural.

He informed several of his colleagues of his intention to, ‘lay bare the false and wild claims’ of the town. His private secretary went so far as to send out letters to well-known scholars in the area, inviting them to attend his debunking sessions.

On March 31, 1919, he arrived at Cross via rail, and was surprised when no one greeted him at the station.

In what some witnesses described as ‘a huff,’ Dr. Southington demanded to be taken to the most active of Cross’ hauntings.

The person he made the demand upon was none other than Duncan Blood, who politely advised the doctor to get on the next train and to peddle his wares in Boston town.

When Dr. Southington pressed the issue, Duncan was seen to shrug, and he pointed to a small broom closet in the train station.

“That,” Duncan told the man, “you might be able to handle.”

Furious, Dr. Southington opened the broom closet and entered it. As he turned around to mock Duncan, an unseen entity grabbed Dr. Southington from behind and dragged him screaming into darkness before the door slammed shut on its own accord.

Several witnesses tried to open the door but found that it was stuck fast. By the time it was opened, the doctor was gone. His clothes were in a pile on the floor, as was most of his beard. The rest of him was missing and remains so to this day.

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