March 17, pt 1

What a terrible ordeal! I hiked up to the brook to fix the water line. As before, when I approached to within 20 or so feet to the thicket, the temperature dropped by about 20 degrees. I think I would have been chilled to the bone if I hadn’t hiked 15 minutes in the damp fog.
As I was repairing the line I felt a great sense of dread – as if someone or something was watching me. I kept checking over my shoulder because it felt like someone breathing on the back of my neck. When I turned to leave, I swear, with God as my witness, I felt something touch my shoulder and I heard a feint whisper in some dreadful language – some guttural, German-like language. I turned but I didn’t see anything but I was so frightened that I ran back to the house. When I got to the driveway, I twisted my ankle in the mud and fell. I just finished cleaning up and am about to make some soup for lunch.

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