At first the pounding footsteps were impossible to discern from the lighting that raged on outside Giddenbarrow Manor. It was all to easy for the average trespasser to fall prey to the shambling wreck that Lord Giddenbarrow had become.
Some say he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for immortality, forgetting to ask that he remain human. Others claim he was always something else, something with hungry eyes and a body that didn't move as it should. No matter the source, it is generally agreed that whatever Lord Giddenbarrow was, hasn't left the manor.
On particularly stormy nights the local youths dare and taunt each other into entering the former servant's quarters, cameras in hand to try and capture evidence that something inhuman still lives there. They like to think that the lightning hides their footsteps and conceals their presence, forgetting that it also conceals his Lordship until it is too late.
The only person to make it back alive, image in hand, was one of the older pub-goers. A man who was old enough to know better but young enough to make rash decisions regardless, one who thought himself to be as immortal as Giddenbarrow himself. Nowadays he can barely stand to look past his curtains.
Blurry as it may be, his Lordship can clearly be seen, or rather, whatever wanders his manor. It appeared to be in motion, running full pelt at the camera, its trunk-like legs almost too blurred to be properly seen while the torso remained in perfect focus.
It was about as far from human as any bipedal creature can be.
It was little more than a pulsating mound of upright flesh.
Most importantly, it was very much alive.
Some say he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for immortality, forgetting to ask that he remain human. Others claim he was always something else, something with hungry eyes and a body that didn't move as it should. No matter the source, it is generally agreed that whatever Lord Giddenbarrow was, hasn't left the manor.
On particularly stormy nights the local youths dare and taunt each other into entering the former servant's quarters, cameras in hand to try and capture evidence that something inhuman still lives there. They like to think that the lightning hides their footsteps and conceals their presence, forgetting that it also conceals his Lordship until it is too late.
The only person to make it back alive, image in hand, was one of the older pub-goers. A man who was old enough to know better but young enough to make rash decisions regardless, one who thought himself to be as immortal as Giddenbarrow himself. Nowadays he can barely stand to look past his curtains.
Blurry as it may be, his Lordship can clearly be seen, or rather, whatever wanders his manor. It appeared to be in motion, running full pelt at the camera, its trunk-like legs almost too blurred to be properly seen while the torso remained in perfect focus.
It was about as far from human as any bipedal creature can be.
It was little more than a pulsating mound of upright flesh.
Most importantly, it was very much alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment