| I stayed there that night, in Josh O'Hara's hut, in the | | | | dishonored, like to like I always say. |
| Minnesota wild (Hibbing), thinking perhaps I could | | | | The burring logs in the house the dead feet, I simply |
| come to some conclusion what took place, and I felt | | | | wanted it all to end this terror that came loose on |
| as the uncanny night went on, death stalked it, I | | | | this cabin, getting on out of it, out of this night, this |
| mean the ghosts that he so readily feared stalked it, | | | | never to be forgotten night, it all was trying on my |
| so, he had a good reason to fear, I was not believing | | | | system, it was as if my immune system could no |
| in his story at first, I am no detective, nor need I be, | | | | longer hold itself in place, it was cascading from the |
| but they were out there, in the darkness breeding as | | | | inside out, my mind blank, then I passed out. |
| I was breathing, and pacing within his timber hut, | | | | (Twenty-years later) Suddenly at 2:00 AM, it |
| such insights, come too late too often. And then I | | | | happened again, like it happens every night, has |
| heard footsteps, especially with the light footsteps | | | | happened every night, since that long night in the |
| outside, my ears trained to hear such things from | | | | cabin in the woods in Hibbing Minnesota, at different |
| war, I could hear the grass being bent, as if trampled | | | | times of course, since I spent that evening in Josh |
| through, reminding me they were there, they the | | | | O'Hara's hut, those voices in the woods came back |
| stalking ghosts, and maybe they were even dragging | | | | to me, come back to me, out like wild boors through |
| Josh's residue spirit through it, for I heard his voice in | | | | my head, it was an eerie gripping horror again, I |
| agony, him being dead meant nothing at this moment | | | | cannot tell you the full story of this supernatural |
| to me, I was shivering in the over heated hut, my | | | | happening, no more than what you already know, |
| veins like ice, step by step, I heard the stalkers | | | | fantastic as it is, but I lost my hearing that night, I |
| laughing, like spies, trapping a mouse, that is how I | | | | think the ghosts, slowly, very slowly during that |
| felt, I being the mouse, they heard my breathing it | | | | evening murdered something inside of me. It is as I |
| seemed, I walked to the right side of the hut, the | | | | said, 2:00 AM, and I hear those eerie gripping voices, |
| footsteps outside the hut walked around the hut to | | | | and that was twenty-years ago, I was in O'Hara's |
| my side, a vicious network of intrigue for them, for | | | | hut, but I must stop writing down these notes, I'm |
| me a desperate, and dangerous game I wanted to | | | | tired, I need to sleep-; it's 3:00 AM now... yes, it |
| get out of. Why they simply did not come into the | | | | starts all over again! |
| hut, was beyond me, perhaps they were forbidden | | | | Part one of the two part story (The Hermit) was |
| to desecrate, or violated with their malicious hearts, | | | | written 4-18-2007; part two, was written (The Ghost |
| the place of the dead, code perhaps among them, | | | | Stalkers) on August 8, 2008. |
| because they didn't want their death beds | | | | |
