She was my father’s friend’s daughter, a year older than I. Her parents were visiting the city and allowed her to go out and play with me. We lost track of time. It was dark. We decided to return home.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a rather large hound appeared. It growled ferociously and ran towards us. I screamed, and with all the selfishness of an eight-year old, climbed up a nearby fence, without offering a helping hand to my friend, or even letting her know there was a fence she could climb. She ran, and was soon lost in the shadows of the night. Somewhere far, I could hear the hound’s gruff barking.
I was momentarily glad that the dog had chased her and not me. But I knew, I couldn’t go back home to our parents and tell them I had lost her.
I began walking in the direction she had run. Suddenly, I tripped over a stone and fell to the ground. When I raised my head, I realized I was at a very different place. There were three men in a clearing ahead, standing around a fire. They were dressed like monks. They seemed to be chanting. Next to them was the hound that had chased us. They threw half of a red, pulpy object into the fire, and they gave the remaining half to the hound. The hound’s head seemed to arch backwards, and suddenly, the hound began emitting a strange sound. It soon became clear to me that it was uttering words, in a strained, broken voice.
I was at a séance.
The red pulpy object was my friend’s heart.
In fear, I turned around to run back the way I had come. I found myself facing a fourth monk.
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