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was curious to know where he kept his other journals. Our
conversations are generally pretty free-flowing and personal,
so I wasn’t too frightened to ask. He actually seemed glad
I’d taken an interest in him, and offered to take me to see
the books, when time and circumstance allowed, of course.
It wasn’t long after when he whisked me off to a small
farmhouse in the country, way back in the sticks. In the attic
of the rickety old place, he showed me stacks and stacks of
fancy journals—just like the one he gave me to use. Christ,
there must have been thousands of them. After thumbing
through a bunch while he cheerfully looked on, I began to
seriously consider what he’d said about his age. And that
wasn’t his only claim that began to wash with me.
Now, God knows how many of what sort of people he’s
killed since I’ve known him, but I’m positive that at least
some of them were in fact serial killers. One of the heads he
brought home was a dead ringer—pun intended—of the killer
called Quiet Quentin, a little person. Not long after that, he
brought home the mostly intact corpse of Paul Stillwater, the
Gobb’s Town Goblin. I’m absolutely convinced it was the
Goblin, as the cops later found and identified the carcass we
left behind. There are a few more noteworthy stiffs, but I’ll
not get into those just yet. For now, I just want to assure you
that some of his body count really did come from genuine,
honest-to-goodness killers.
As for his motive for killing, I have no idea what the hell
drives him. No idea, that is, save for the insane gibberish
he’s let slip from time to time. He appears to believe that
killing is his job—his duty, more like—handed down to
him from way back, something like 150 years ago, by some
anomalous force he’s yet to properly comprehend. He says
he must kill and dismember so as to “empower the next
tides of change,” and that he’s got to “fill the pot with broth,
which others are responsible for stirring and cooking.” I
don’t exactly know what all that means, but I’ve a feeling
he’s talking about bringing about a second Great Darkness.
274 | Mark Anzalone