Night of the Spirits
by sloanranger
Part 9
Angus determined he could go no further with the dog. He dragged old Joe off the trail a piece and covered him with as many sticks and leaves as he could find until he heard the scream again.
Then he ran.
Stumbling and falling the Scot made it through the forest and he had just about got to the boundary of the second cornfield. He was only yards from his hovel when he heard the voice behind him.
"Bring me my dog," A voice rasped.
The drunken man froze. His heart skipped a few beats but he turned his head in a slow arc and looked behind him. Oh Lord, oh Lord, it was Cray'. He turned around back towards his home.
"Look at me, Angus," the voice said. The Scot fell on his knees where he stood, this time in naked fear.
The spirit appeared in front of him then, shimmering in the dark but Angus kept his eyes squeezed tight shaking his head from side to side moaning, "No, no."
"Where's my dog, Angus?" The voice rasped and quavered like a warped mill saw.
(To be continued).
YOU ARE READING
Night of the Spirits - @Short Story
Historia Corta@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.
