We hoped that if we left it to rot, it might forget us and we could all move on. We hoped that abandoning the town, burying the roads and burning all the records would keep people away. We should have just burnt the whole place to the ground with it inside and saved ourselves a whole heap of misery and misfortune.
The first sign that it had followed us was a news article about a serial cat killer - we knew it hated cats almost as much as it hated children. Back in the town it used kittens as bait to lure them out of the school's playground and out into the woods where we'd never find all of their body.
The second sign was a series of bloodied handprints all over the police station. The blood was fresh yet the person it belonged to had died over fifty years ago. Back in the town it used to bring back the faces and forms of our lost loved ones, having either remembered them or killed them, so it only stood to reason that it could bring back their blood as well.
The third and final sign was a shared dream - a field of scarecrows alight and our children on their knees in worship before them while it stood at our sides as we both watched. It told us we needed to either move further afield and lead it away from other folks or head back into town and finish it for good - no more middleground.
By this point we were too scattered about the county, too ingrained in other lives to want to change but some of us did choose to return. Haven't heard from them since but the signs have all stopped so whatever they did has worked. That or it killed them and is heading back for us right this very moment.
I'd almost be glad to see it - for closure if nothing else.
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