Devourer of Souls
Comforted a little in this, I hunkered down in the blueberry bushes and waited.
One more singing strike.
And then silence, filled with nothing but chirping peepers, and then . . .
Frogs.
Bullfrogs. Only one or two at first, but their throaty calls quickly multiplied into a belching chorus that, unbelievably enough, raised pimples along my forearms.
Because they came from the flower garden.
The koi pond. A pond only about ten feet in diameter. I had no idea how deep the pond was (the crazy, insane idea that it was bottomless flitted through my head,) but it didn’t seem nearly big enough to hold all those frogs . . .
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