“A week later, my estate had been deserted, but
again I felt compelled to ride out at midnight, and again
there was an unholy meeting on the Ridge. Some of the
blasphemers had trespassed upon my land, and they were
chanting as they gathered about strange symbols etched
upon the ashes. Before I could advance into the
moonlight, I heard them curse my name for exiling them,
and I heard them pray to an evil master that I be made to
do eternal penance for the family I had destroyed.
Thinking nothing of such foolish vitriol, I fired my rifle
into the air and rushed the makeshift altar. Again the little
devils scattered into the woods.
“I dismissed their childish imprecations and went
about my business. But the very next night I was
compelled to awaken at 12:15 and found myself in bed
with the shade of the stable keeper’s wife. Then her
children appeared by her side (perhaps their once live
counterparts were awakened by the sounds of the coven or
by the first burst of fire on the thatched roof). In an
instant, all three were covered in flame. I grew horribly
warm and understood in terror that I was to play the part
of the husband. I suddenly felt that I too had caught fire, I
screamed, and in another instant, all were gone. The
damned witches had cursed me to relive the tragedy at that
moment every night.
“And every night I did. And do. The fire scorches
me for those few seconds every night. I tried sleeping in a
different bed or sitting in a chair. I even traveled to the
Continent and moved from city to city, but wherever I
went, the apparitions found me at 12:15 A. M., the same
moment the family had died that hell-spawned Halloween.
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