My mind is no longer my own. What I wrote last day was not of my making, and I cannot recall it. I fear this is our undoing. I tried running into the woods today, but after almost an hour I found myself on the church's front porch again.
This is witchery that will have us all. I have no family and none to share these last moments with. I am alone, as the lone bird in winter skies.
Old man Gerb by the barn has died today, after speaking the terrors of his newest dreams.
'He comes! He is here ! He who lays the Way, and He whom he serves! The malachite quakes and rises, and the tides shall wash man from the earth as we would kill fish on the sea-shredded rock! '
Something is coming. The skies are darker in the east, almost as night. The winds blowing from within there are fell, evil. I can smell it
YOU ARE READING
I found the journal of a Church pastor from the 1200s. The Pied Piper is real.
Truyện NgắnA reddit story written by u/potato_on_puberty about a very interesting take on the Pied Piper, a famous story based in Hamelin, Germany. I hope you enjoy!
