HeresJohnny
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Walking Around Town
Vlad walked in that brisk, eery night through the Forrest down the cobble stone path which was stalked by a gutter snake which he greeted with him hiss
“Did it remember me?” He thought, “does it remember when I fed it a bit of cheese last night? Ungrateful savage beast.”
As Vlad made his way down the windy path downhill the lamppost at Earls bridge lit up. Startled he slipped and slid down the bit of path before the bridge.
The bridge keeper, Balforth, startled, yelled “Who goes there? Who goes there?”
“Ahaha It’s just me sir, it’s me Vlad”
Balforths expression quickly changed to concern to a cold indifferent one. “Very good sir,” he muttered, bowing his head.
Vlad crossed the old stone bridge careful not to trip on the little gaps intentionally inserted by the Turks who had built it 400 years earlier to throw boiling water into invaders in the empty canal below.
It was said that in that very canal roamed the ghosts of soldiers of that era who took the unfortunate souls found there to the third circle of hell where they were in turn forced to swim in pools of boiling blood
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