Feb. 11th, 2013


Feb. 11th, 2013 11:10 am
“Sightless Father, but you’re a thick one,” says a ruddy-skinned man with thick corded muscles and a bit of a gut. “I’m a farrier, or I was. Do you see many horses around Peram?”

“Surely there must be farmers…”

“Oh, aye, there are farmers,” he says. “There are almost as many farms about here as there are farriers. Do you think I could fine one to stand as my patron?”

“So, the rumors are true, then,” I say. There’s no better way to get someone to confide in you than to make them think you’re in the know.

“They are, or true enough,” the farrier says. “Is that why you’ve come here, then? To see for yourself the ruination of our town?”

“No, in truth, I was just passing through,” I say. “I’d heard tales, but… they didn’t seem that interesting. I mean, a well gone bad? It happens. The manner in which it happened sounds somewhat unique, I’ll grant you, but the end result is the same. As for the supposed strange goings-on at night… well, all I can say is that I’ve heard stranger.”

It was a total shot in the dark, my very dearest of dear readers, but I felt it strike true.

“If that’s what you think, then you haven’t heard the half of it,” the farrier says.

“Oh, don’t start that again, Lloyd,” the barkeep says.

“Don’t start what?” Lloyd the farrier says.

“Going on the way you do.”

“You mean going on about faces in the fog?” he says. “About animals… wild dogs and wolves… howling at the gates? About people going missing in the dead of night?”

“Moving out and moving on, more likely,” the barkeep says. “The town’s dying. Anyone can see that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

“Oh?” Lloyd says. “Then why are you still here?”



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