vicious. That life can be cruel, unfair.”
“It was you,” Kat blurted. “The screaming child!”
“Yes, but no-one paid attention,” the poltergeist mourned.
“I did,” Kat proudly disputed.
The old one smiled sadly.
“You were too late!” a cyclone of voices cacophonied.
The whirlwind subsided.
“Now I reap the wails of others. Cull their shouts, their groans and pleas. I am The Tongue Snatcher.” Nethos fluctuated, sizzling. “Scream, ungrateful boy. You discontented whelp. Scream, that I may seize yours too!”
A bellow of fear flooded Kat’s throat, compelled him to part vulnerable jaws and await a direly awful fate. He couldn’t control the dreadful urge . . .
And should you speculate about your neighbors, the house next door, beware. Do not spread rumors. Do not so much as stare. And do not ever knock! You never can tell what manner, or manor, of horrors you will find.
Above all, do not forget this warning:
If the impulse to gossip seethes in your soul, guard well your tongue, else The Snatcher might come!
Next Door Page 4
