The House on Mangle Lane [Prequel to Hudson House]

Chapter 9

There had been no reason to worry. There never was. When the house offered a new victim, there was never a battle or fight. He approached, attacked, and the girl fell. Every time the same. Efficient as a slaughter house.

She cowered in the grass before him. Tears coated her cheeks. She tried to curl into a ball but she couldn't. The house wouldn't let her. The grass kept her in place. Now, she was ready.

If that young man and his dog returned, would he see this spectacle? The dog would bark, perhaps, but the man would never know why. Even if he sliced the girl's throat right here and let the baptism commence beneath the night sky.

This was the power of the almighty. He tucked the knife back into the sheath he had found at a thrift store. He took it with him everywhere. No one ever noticed, of course, because of his long, black coat. Black like the night.

Like death.

Thy will be done.