I’m sorry I haven’t been posting much lately…things have been a little hectic here recently.
After my chat with the old man, I got a bit worried. He talked about the noise of clopping hooves, and how, if I heard them, there’s no more hope for me. Well, as you all know, I heard them. I’ve been afraid to go out at all. I considered just leaving the area completely. Understandably, I was a bit stressed. I think it was the stress that caused me to get sick. That fever knocked me out for a few days.
I kept having these strange dreams while I was sleeping. The one I can remember best was something like this: I was outside at night again, just like that one night that I went for a walk, and I looked up at the tree. There was that man there, up in the tree. The moon was brighter, though, and I could see a bit more clearly. He wore what looked like a suit with a top hat, and his moustache extended at least a foot on either side of his face. I just barely discern the glint of moonlight off of a monocle and an axe.
It was who the old man had described in his story. Bartholomew.
I turned to run, but in the distance, I saw a shadowy figure. It was a horse. At least, I think it was a horse. It was a bit too far off to make out very well. I paused, which I shouldn’t have done. Because some sort of tendril wrapped around my ankle and lifted me into the air. As I dangled upside down, I saw that whoever (or whatever) was lifting me was wearing a suit. I assumed it was Bartholomew. However, the tendril kept lifting me. Higher than I would have expected. Eventually, the tendril wrapped around my leg held me so high that my head was level with the man’s. I opened my eyes cautiously and stared into his face.
He had none.
I’m sure it was the fever. It had to be. But that the dream drew so much from the old man’s story? This place isn’t good for my sanity anymore. I’m going to leave in the next few days.