Night of the Spirits
by sloanranger
Part 8
A beacon in the dark, the yellow blanket helped Angus to find Joe where he'd dropped him. A raccoon was sniffing around the dog but he ran when he heard the drunk shuffling through the soggy leaves.
Muttering to himself, Angus picked up the old dog and shouldered him. He got his bearings and staggered forward towards the graveyard.
The wind was wild now, crying and howling and doing it's best to blow Angus off his feet. He leaned into it and managed to keep upright for a spell but the baggage he carried made it impossible for more than a few minutes.
He laid the dog on the ground, panting from his exertions. A slight lull came from the blow and it allowed him then, to hear the night sounds.
The largest animals were almost gone from area due to the slow, steady growth of the village. But there was no mistaking the sound of something growling in the trees. Then Angus heard the scream of a large cat.
"Oh Lord, oh Lord," he said, falling to his knees as much from exhaustion as from entreaty, squeezing his eyes tightly in fear. He felt something brush the back of his hair.
"Ohhhhhhahhhh," he cried, swiping at the back of his head. His fist came back with a handful of wet leaves stuck together but it was enough.
(To be continued).
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Night of the Spirits - @Short Story
Short Story@SHORTSTORY - Historical Fiction, Horror: Dying man Jeb Crayton, asks his friend Angus, an old Scot who likes his liquor to help his widow after he's gone. Days later, Angus is asked to bury Jeb's dog, Joe. It becomes a horrific task.
