Albert A. Bell Jr.

“A couple of miles down the road from Catulus’ villa we passed another large house that appeared to be abandoned. It looked as though someone had set fire to it and left the ruins. Most of the roof had fallen in. “What happened to that place?” Aurora asked, turning to one of Catulus’ men, a tall, gloomy fellow named Syrus. “Ghouls,” he said. “Did you say ghouls?” “Yes. Creatures that would eat humans or animals and take on the shape of whoever or whatever they ate.” He sounded utterly serious. Some people are able to make their jokes more believable that way. From the other side of Aurora I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s preposterous.” “All I know is what I’m told, my lord. It happened some time ago, when I was a boy.” “What happened?” “The couple that lived there—Leander and Chloe was their names—they had no children. When they got old they hired some people to help them run the place. Turns out, though, the people they hired was a pack of these flesh-eating ghouls.” I shook my head in disbelief. “People around here actually believe this nonsense?” Syrus looked a bit offended. “Call it that if you will, my lord. When animals began disappearing and, finally, a couple of villagers disappeared, folks started suspecting something. They traced it all to that house.” “Traced what?” I asked. “Strange noises, glimpses of beasts, occasional bones. They attacked the place and set fire to it. We don’t know if they killed the ghouls. They could have changed their shapes and got away.” “What happened to Leander and Chloe?” Aurora asked. “Never seen again. Some around here think they was ghouls themselves. Or maybe eaten by the ghouls.”
― Albert A. Bell Jr., Hiding From the Past