Friday, December 23rd, 1833
Two Days to Christmas
I WAS RUNNING.
Running through twisting paths within dark abbey ruins under a gibbous moon, whispers caressing me from every side. A giant bell tolled a series of slow, deathly clangs, and the darkness and mist obscured my vision. My legs were heavy, and each step was like trudging through coagulated blood while the hollow steps of Humbug came ever closer.
Panting, I turned a corner and stopped. Humbug rose up and towered before me, a ghost shrouded in black clutching a b****y knife. I squinted, trying to recognize him, and just as I feared the knife would be plunged into my heart, a lock of chocolate hair tumbled loose from inside the hood. I gasped. The killer raised a bony hand and combed back the veiling hood.
The visage before me
