large/9571/short_ghost_and_horror_collection_025_1411_librivox_64kb_mp3/ghohor025_14_various_64kb_92
large/9571/short_ghost_and_horror_collection_025_1411_librivox_64kb_mp3/ghohor025_14_various_64kb
English
9571
Queer haow a cravin' gits a holt on ye— As ye love the Almighty, young man, don't tell nobody, but I swar ter Gawd thet picter begun ta make me hungry fer victuals I couldn't raise nor buy—here, set still, what's ailin' ye? QUEER HOW A CRAVEN GETS A HOLE DANIA AS YOU LOVE THE ALMIGHTY YOUNG MAN DON'T TELL NOBODY BUT I SWEAR TO GOD THAT PICTUR BEGUN TO MAKE ME HUNGRY FOR VICTUALS I COULDN'T RAISE NOR BUY HERE SET STILL WHAT'S AILING YE
emed beyond dispute. He was almost whispering now, with a huskiness more terrible than a scream, and I trembled as I listened. “As I says, ’tis queer haow picters sets ye thinkin’. D’ye know, young Sir, I’m right sot on this un here. Arter I got the book off Eb I uster look at it a lot, especial when I’d heerd Passon Clark rant o’ Sundays in his big wig. Onct I tried suthin’ funny—here, young Sir, don’t git skeert—all I done was ter look at the picter afore I kilt the sheep for market—killin’ sheep was kinder more fun arter lookin’ at it—” The tone of the old man now sank very low, sometimes becoming so faint that his words were hardly audible. I listened to the rain, and to the rattling of the bleared, small-paned windows, and marked a rumbling of approaching thunder quite unusual for the season. Once a terrific flash and peal shook the frail house to its foundations, but the whisperer seemed not to notice it. “Killin’ sheep was kinder more fun—but d’ye know, ’twan’t quite satisfyin’. HIS PARTIAL PERVERSION SEEMED BEYOND DISPUTE HE WAS ALMOST WHISPERING NOW WITH A HUSKINESS MORE TERRIBLE THAN A SCREAM AND I TREMBLED AS I LISTENED AS I SAYS TIS QUEER HOW PICTURES SET YOU THINKING YOU KNOW YOUNG SIR I'M RIGHT SOT ON THIS UN HERE AFTER I'D GOT THE BOOK OFF EBB I USED TO LOOK AT IT A LOT ESPECIAL WHEN I'D HEERD PASS'N CLARK RAN TO SUNDAYS IN HIS BIG WIG ONCE I TRIED SOMETHIN FUNNY HERE YOUNG SIR DON'T GET SKEERED ALL I DONE WAS TO LOOK AT THE PICTURE AFORE I KILLED THE SHEEP FOR MARKET KILN SHEEP WAS KINDER MORE FUN AFTER LOOKING AT IT THE TONE OF THE OLD MAN NOW SUNK VERY LOW SOMETIMES BECOMING SO FAINT THAT HIS WORDS WERE HARDLY AUDIBLE I LISTENED TO THE RAIN AND TO THE RATTLING OF THE BLEARED SMALL PANED WINDOWS AND MARKED A RUMBLING OF APPROACHING THUNDER QUITE UNUSUAL FOR THE SEASON ONCE A TERRIFIC FLASH AND PEAL SHOOK THE FRAIL HOUSE TO ITS FOUNDATIONS BUT THE WHISPERER SEEMED NOT TO NOTICE IT KILLING SHEEP WAS KINDER MORE FUN BUT YOU KNOW TWA'N'T QUITE SATISFYING
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