The Haunted Hangman

Chapter 8

"Quiet," ordered my attacker. "You'll wake the dead and I don't want thag to happen."

The hulk loomed above me like a massive predator. It was draped in a strange black costume, a hood concealing it's head. Eyes moved warily through two slits cut in the fabric.

"What really you doing here?" demanded the voice from behind the hood. "Tell me now or you will die."

"Well, what are you doing here?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

"Don't give me any cheek, night," warned the harsh voice, its grip tightening on my shoulder. "Tell me the truth! You were waiting to trap me, weren't you? You - and my old enemy The Slasher? I saw him coming down. You're in league with him, aren't you?"

"He wasn't our friend! He had a knife! He said he was going to kill us!" Niall explained. "Anyhow, why would we want to trap you? We don't even know who you are!"

"But you were snooping, weren't you?" The hulk accused.

"No!" yelled Harry. "We were going for a walk when suddenly we were attacked by a weird cat."

"A cat you say?' The hulk shoved me to one side, causing me to stumble a little. "Describe it."

"It looked dead," Harry answered. "And some of its fur was missing. You could see its bones and stomach."

Niall pointed to his torn shirt. "It came flying out from under the bridge and landed on me. Look what it did to my shirt."

The hulk laughed. "You're lucky it didn't told the skin from your bones." It lifted one of its gloves hands and removed the hood.

We took one look at the creature's distorted face and screamed.

What remained of it's flesh had been scarred beyond belief - wounds that could only have been inflicted by vicious torture. Its eyes swam in gruesome sockets, its blood-streaked nose had been battered to a pulp, and its lips looked as though they had almost been torn from its mouth.

"Quiet, quiet!".the hulk roared, revealing two rows of smashed teeth. "I don't want the whole world coming down here to see what all the noise is about."

He placed two fingers to his mouth and let out a soft, shrill whistle.

Seconds later, the ghost cat leaped out of the shadows and rubbed itself against the hulk's leg. My stomach churned at the sight of the cat's glowing bones and guts.

"Good boy, Disraeli," said the hulk, stopping down and patting the hideous cat on the head.

"What a strange name for a cat," he remarked.

The hulk shot him a fierce look. "When I want your comments I'll ask for them, boy. You just mind your tongue." The hulk straightened up, his wrecked face lit with anger. "I named my cat in honor of a great man. Prime Minister Disraeli, the greatest Prime Minister the Britain has ever had. It was my pleasure to serve under his government and Queen Victoria."

I didn't know much about history, so I asked, "When was that?"

"Before your time, little boy," the hulk snapped. "Back in London, in the olden times, in the nineteenth century."

Liam gasped. "So you are a ghost? And so is your cat?"

"Of course," replied the hulk. "We are members of the great eternity. Ghosts, you say."

Niall stiffened. "If you are a ghost, why are you hiding under the bridge?"

The hulk let out a soft, rasping laugh. "Because too many people are looking for me."

"You mean, other ghosts?" I asked. "Like The Slasher?"

"Exactly. Or, as I prefer to all them, my former customers."

"What do you mean?" Liam wanted to know. "Customers?"

"I was the last man they saw in the land of the living." said the hulk. "And the first one they looked for in the world of the dead."

"You're speaking in riddles," Harry told him.

"My customers were the greatest criminals of the age," the hulk informed him. "The murderers, the killers, the cutthroats, the men and women with blood on their hands. They all came to me. It was my job to dispatch them once the judge had pronounced the death sentence." He drew himself up, his tormented face filled with pride. "I am Zayn Malik, Her Majesty's hangman."'

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