D is for Damien 2:
The Night of the Goat
Looking out the window, he saw a long, black car, like a limo, pull in. A lady got out. Dressed all in black, with a veil over her face and carrying a black bundle, she slowly made her way up the walk, dead leaves twirling around, her shoes clicking. She climbed up the stairs and knocked three times, slowly.
Damien opened the door and looked at her. "Have we met before?"
The woman, appearing to be in her forties or maybe even fifties, but still with a strange, youthful quality about her, shook her head. "No, we haven't. And perhaps that's just as well."
Spurred on by her seemingly foreboding words, Damien tried again. "Is that your baby?"
The woman shook her head again. She did everything slowly, as if in a dream. "No, it isn't my baby. Would you like to hold him?"
Damien shrugged. He reached out for it and took it, then, carefully, pulled up the blanket to reveal its face. And then he gasped.
Those eyes!
He looked up at the woman and recoiled with horror.
"The eyes!" he cried involuntarily.
The woman nodded. "And I may as well say this. Say hello to Luther Broderick, Junior."
[Note--in addition there is a scribbled note in the margin:]
She is 49. She was 26 when Luther was born (Luther is 23.) [Note--incorrect punctuation.] She was 43 when she was.... Luther was 17 [Note--"when she was..." trails off on purpose, as I didn't like putting into words what had happened. I'll just say it involves Luther and his mother--that's who these notes are about. If you want to know more, just ask.]
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