Lewis Wetzel and The Unknown Tribe

"They say he resides here. Or at least that is what the stories say."

The two men stood in front of a large cave. The cave's entrance seemed to beckon to the men to step inside. The entrance and the cave itself reminded Billy Weston of some old medieval paintings he had seen. In the paintings, a giant head of a hound ushered in souls to hell itself. The giant hound's gaping mouth was the entrance to the underworld, just as the cave's dark entrance seemed to be the gateway to a dark and terrible place inside.

"He lives here in this cave?" Weston said.

Bolton nodded. "That's what the stories say. I say if you live in a cave like that you must be a different sort of man."

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Hljóðbók: 22 juni 2024