The Black Swan
The Black Swan
“Once more, the ghost-gray gypsy girl approached him as he stood rooted to the spot, sweating with fear. Once again she held up the mirror to his face; he looked for a moment into his own eyes, to see his face replaced by that of a monster—a maddened boar this time, rather than a wolf, a boar with bloody tusks and a mouth dripping foam. He saw his eyes in the boar’s face, eyes that glared back at him with insensate rage. With a shout of terror, he wrested himself free— Choking with fear, he sat ...bolt upright in his bed, entangled in the bedclothes, staring into the darkness. Sweat soaked, heart pounding, shaking in every limb, it took an act of will to lie back down again; he kept expecting to see the girl’s horrible, blue-gray face staring at him out of the darkness. Worse, at any moment, he expected to feel her cold hands seize him.
What was wrong? The girl had been buried at the crossroads, staked into the grave, exactly as he had ordered. She should not be able to night-walk and haunt him like this!MoreLess
What was wrong? The girl had been buried at the crossroads, staked into the grave, exactly as he had ordered. She should not be able to night-walk and haunt him like this!MoreLess
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