Chapter 3: Leonard’s Warning and the Devil’s Trick

Grandpa Joe’s face was dark and troubled. He was about to speak when One-Eyed Leonard, who was standing nearby, suddenly interrupted:

Leonard, a wiry man with a faded denim jacket, tobacco pouch, and a battered eye patch, stepped forward, boots crunching on the dry grass. "At night, if you hear someone calling your name, you don’t answer unless you see who it is—that’s the rule around here.

Looking at him now, he’s probably been targeted by evil spirits.

A place all lit up with so many buildings—how could that be a night market?

If I’m right, last night he wandered into the crossroads, the spirit fair.

Those pale-faced folks in red and green were clearly spirits who set their sights on him.

He even ate the feast they offered.

That was a deadly banquet!

To fix this, we need to invite someone who really knows their stuff, and fast."

He spit on the ground, eyes darting to the shadows behind the shed. The family exchanged nervous glances—one cousin clutched a rosary, another muttered about calling the sheriff, while others whispered prayers.

Grandpa Joe looked even more worried. He sighed and said:

"Leonard, I’ll leave Darrell to you. I’ll go get Pastor Williams right away."

His voice was rough, but there was resolve in it. He grabbed his battered truck keys from the porch, the jangle echoing, and looked toward the old church at the edge of town, as if hoping the pastor was already on his way.

One-Eyed Leonard turned to look at Uncle Darrell, his brow tightly furrowed:

"It’s dozens of miles away—go quick and come back quick.

Judging by Darrell’s condition, I’m afraid he can’t hold on much longer..."

He bent over Darrell, checking his pulse, then stood back, wiping sweat from his brow and rubbing his hands together nervously. The air felt charged, like the moment before a summer storm.

Just then, Aunt Brenda cried out in terror:

"He—he’s stopped breathing, he’s stopped breathing..."

Her scream cut through the air, sending the chickens scattering, the dogs barking. Grandpa Joe froze, his face drained of color, and the rest of us rushed closer, hearts pounding in our chests.