William Royden

When he was gone, Cording turned to me.

I remember his hair blowing crazily in the wind.

He whispered that we would come back later to see if the man had left again.

He said he needed to get inside the house.

We crept off the property, keeping well out of sight.

That was when I told him that the man we had just seen was my grandfather.

Cording looked at me with absolutely no expression.

His eyes were blank.

Dead.

He said to me, then tonight you'll call him and get him out of the house and we'll go in.

It was about three o'clock and starting to drizzle lightly again when I was attacked.

It happened in a small, public, overflow parking lot tucked behind a strip mall that faced Rosanda Road.

I was about 15 feet behind, according as we crossed the lot towards it.

There were about 10 cars parked in the lot and no human activity.

We were near the rear entrances of a used bookstore, a laundromat, and a local hardware store that was the first business ever to set up shop in Robinsong.

Cording was saying something to me and I had to strain to listen.

He was asking me if I wanted to stop somewhere and get a windbreaker or something because of the dropping temperature.

I said I thought I'd be fine for a while, and then he started to ask me if there was any chance the camera could be damaged if it rained again.

Halfway through his sentence, he turned to me and kept speaking, but right away I froze, and he stopped and asked me what was wrong.

Cording's eyes were taped over completely.