One of the people has risen about 20 feet into the air but has not dissolved. It is slowly spinning and raising what appear to be arms. The spinning has stopped and one arm remains raised. It is pointing at me! I can’t avert my eyes or stop writing.

A sound as of a herd of cattle stampeding on the roof of the house and of thousands of fists slamming against the walls of the house! The sound is taking shape into a rhythmic beat, a very frenzied beat. It’s so loud, almost deafening. I can barely think, only write. The figure hovering over the crowd has started spinning again, rapidly this time. Faster and faster. It has a feint, sickening-green glow to it.

A path in the crowd is forming! It starts in front of the house where the front door is and leads to the northwest, up the hill to where the spring is – where the ‘cold thicket’ is located.