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‘The creeper,’ Sparling replied. ‘I do believe it’s known as the creeper.’
‘No,’ he said with a sigh, ‘you don’t. Nobody ever understands until it’s done. If you knew what you’d just walked into, you’d already be on your way.’
Ben never understood why hell was sold as a fiery place. Death and sadness were always cold.
‘Three times you see him,’ she said. ‘The first night he’s far, far away. And then the next night he’s closer. So close that you can see him, and he can see you. And then, on the third night his big ugly face is at your window. The fourth night is your last one, because then uh-oh.’
‘That’s when the creeper kills you.’
To be told of his existence – to anticipate the three sightings – is to suffer his curse.
