Nobody wanted to take the job.
Nobody wanted to go anywhere remotely near the Critchley place.
Nobody wanted to answer their emails or calls so they asked a newcomer.
It's easier for an outsider to believe that the haunted looks that cross people's faces when they hear the word 'Critchley' are the result of local superstition. Let them scoff and be full of disbelief, scorn and whatever other logic floats into their heads. Better they learn the truth on their own.
I'd feel bad for sending them up there without giving them a warning but they never pay much attention to our stories. They just think there's a few funny old people in their funny old house that need some broken antique furniture taken to the dump.
The strongest ones come back all quiet, tails tucked between their legs and hesitatingly asking us to remind them just how they ward their homes at this time of year. We don't hear back from the weaker ones, the ones whose minds can't accept what they see. We hope they went quickly but the Critchley folk aren't kind enough for that.
We're lucky that the most we see of them is their distorted shadows when the river sends a mist up to smother us all. There used to only be three of them but Ireckon a few of the missing newcomers may have joined their ranks. At this rate they'll have an army and it'll be our fault.
Nobody wanted to go anywhere remotely near the Critchley place.
Nobody wanted to answer their emails or calls so they asked a newcomer.
It's easier for an outsider to believe that the haunted looks that cross people's faces when they hear the word 'Critchley' are the result of local superstition. Let them scoff and be full of disbelief, scorn and whatever other logic floats into their heads. Better they learn the truth on their own.
I'd feel bad for sending them up there without giving them a warning but they never pay much attention to our stories. They just think there's a few funny old people in their funny old house that need some broken antique furniture taken to the dump.
The strongest ones come back all quiet, tails tucked between their legs and hesitatingly asking us to remind them just how they ward their homes at this time of year. We don't hear back from the weaker ones, the ones whose minds can't accept what they see. We hope they went quickly but the Critchley folk aren't kind enough for that.
We're lucky that the most we see of them is their distorted shadows when the river sends a mist up to smother us all. There used to only be three of them but Ireckon a few of the missing newcomers may have joined their ranks. At this rate they'll have an army and it'll be our fault.
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