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A Short Story by James D. Pratt

Copyright 2010 James D. Pratt

Smashwords Edition

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Horatio the ghoul sat near the edge of the brackish pool at the heart of the Great Grey Forest, weeping bitterly as he gazed at his own reflection in the pale moonlight. The raw red tears staining his pallid cheeks looked like rivulets of blood, which in fact they were. Horatio’s distress was not an unusual sight. His mind often dwelt in dark places and though decades separated him from the tragedies that had shaped his existence since joining the ranks of the restless dead, thoughts of a woman and child whose faces perpetually hovered at the edge of his memory stabbed as deep now as they had the day he died.

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