The villagers knew to stay away. They’d been told as such since they were children, that the old ruin on top of the hill was dangerous—forbidden—that not everyone who ventured near returned to describe what they’d seen.
But for some, the place beckoned. It called to us in a soft, persistent voice, which was nearly impossible to ignore and which took extreme effort and vigilance to resist. It sang to us, each night, “Come home… Come home…”
—Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Supreme Bunny Lord of The P.E.W.)
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