Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange lane.


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"The Old Man"

He is clothed plainly in a olive green suit, with a alabaster colored tie and shirt. His skin is a sickly pale, with deeply colored age spots dotting his sparsely haired scalp. His eyes are a very light pink color, and deep wrinkles run all across his skin. It is hard to not notice his lips. They are black, as are his gums that hold his deeply stained teeth.

It starts as a simple conversation. He refers to you by name, and asks you how you have been. Always be honest with him, and never try to hide the truth. He loves to dissect people, to work his way under their skin and find out what truly causes them pain. If you lie to him, and if you try to deny the pain you are experiencing, then there is no hope for you. Because he will find it out, and he is wrathful for those who make it difficult.

This is a reported encounter with the specter known as The Old Man.

I was waiting around my home, looking forward to a night out with my friends from work. I looked around, trying to decide what I was going to wear. I finally found something tasteful, and made my way to the kitchen. And it was at that moment that I screamed.

He was sitting there, in the dining room, a deep frown on his face. The room itself is covered by dark brown woods, causing the overhead light to make his skin seem to glow. He turned and looked at me, and with a gentle motion he offered the chair adjacent to him. I didn't know what to do. I had heard stories of him since I was little. So I did the only thing I could think of, and took the offered seat, my hands shifting nervously in my lap.

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