A collaborative effort with "The Great One", James Hahn
An eerie night, a dark lonely road, a sudden thunderstorm, a wrong turn. Miles from anywhere, the automobile sinks hopelessly into the mud. But wait, a bit of hope. The wind and lightning pass. A faint light can be seen in the distance.
The lone traveler leaves his automobile and trudges through the mud toward
that light. As the crickets chirp and the frogs croak, he ponders over the
sign he passed on the road that read, "Never Moore". He knows a
moor is a highland covered with grasses. But, what he is seeing will never
be a moor. It is low, swampy land guarded by large trees whose dead
branches reach out like clutching hands.
As the owls hoot and the crows squawk, he walks towards the light and sees
the outline of a small house at the edge of the swamp. Suddenly, a wolf howls,
and a large branch mysteriously points downward to a pathway. The traveler
enters through the gate onto the path. It reads, "1809 Never Moore Lane".
As he steps onto the porch, he puts his suitcase down, it has an emblem that
reads; "RWS, 1938 Brooklyn St". He knocks on the door. A dog barks
as the door creaks open. He steps in and the owner gives the weary traveler
a glass of cider.
As he drinks, he feels strange. His persona is changing, his voice is changing,
even his name. He drops the glass. Someone screams. He staggers to the creaking
door, opens it howling and runs into the swamp. As he runs, dogs bark, wolves
howl, and the crows hold court. Bells ring as his footsteps fade. The mysterious
branch now points upward to the full moon. A chain saw roars out, a scream
pierces the night and the wolf pack howls. But as the swamp quiets down, a
bull alligator surprises everyone.
But who owned the house? But even more difficult, who was the traveler?