The Mysterious Tale of Mr. Crane Part Three
The October day dawned bright, sunny and warm. A perfect fall day of the sort one dreams of when contemplating the pleasures of autumn. R.S. was tending to his horse, when he saw Mr. Crane, once again, walking up the sweep.
"Good day to you, Mr. Crane!" he called out. He noticed, even from a distance, that Crane's clothes did not hang quite right from his frame. He looked gaunt, with eyes that appeared sunken back into his skull. Crane approached, carrying his growler, now divested of its liquid contents. "Looking for a refill, are you Crane?"
"Yes, R.S. I am in desperate need of some fermented spirits to calm my nerves. I am afraid I was not quite forthcoming with you on my last visit, you see. I lead you to believe I was just having nightmares, but the truth is I have been terrorized by a figure that follows me home every night from town. I know now it is not a fever dream but reality. This morning I saw the horse shoe prints in the middle of Callaway Road."
"Some men here the other night spoke of you seeing a ghost. What is this nonsense? Look Crane, you cannot give these types fuel for their fires. They will mock you endlessly. They consider it good sport, you know."
"But that's just it, "Crane replied. "I think I really did see a ghost. The figure that plagues me so, you see, is headless."
Standing in the bright sun, Crane's statement sounded impossible, lunatic even. Frantic ravings from a scared little man. "Crane, I'm sure there's a rational explanation for all of this, and I have a feeling that explanation lies with those boys from up past Belcher. They know you walk that road all hours of the night alone. They know what kind of hours Marley makes you keep."
Crane explained, "I cannot see how the boys in Belcher could have anything to do with this. How can they make a giant black stallion simply appear and disappear out of thin air at will? They do not possess magic, for the love of God! This is not of this earth, I tell you!"
Crane's whole body seemed to convulse at this point. The poor thing, R.S. thought, what will disabuse him of this notion? "Come partake of a pint of my oatmeal stout to calm your nerves and sit beside me in the cool autumn sun a bit. Perhaps we can talk of less strange days."
Stay tuned for the final installment of "The Mysterious Tale of Mr. Crane" and to find out when Mr. Crane's Stupendous and Sublime Spiced Pumpkin Ale will go on tap!