Chapter 444:

"He's here." Lacey said very quietly. The child was suddenly upset. This is the way in his voice, frowning on his face.
"If he escaped, why did he come back? It really doesn't make much sense to me, how much does it mean to you?"
Lacey shook her head. There were tears in his nose, covering his words, but they were clear enough. "He never left."
"What? You mean he never escaped?"
"He is smart, sir. You don't know Kevin. He is smart." He closed the cartoon and looked up at Redman. "In what way is it smart?"
"He planned everything, sir. All."
"You have to be clear."
"You won't believe me. That's the end, because you won't believe me. He hears you know that he is everywhere. He doesn't care about walls. Dead people don't care about that."
dead. Smaller than alive but it makes the breath disappear.
Lacey said: "He can come and go anytime."
"You mean dead?" Redman said. "Be careful, Lacey."
The boy hesitated: he realized that he was walking a tight rope, very close to the loser. "You agreed," he said suddenly coldly.
"Promise that it won't hurt you. No. I said what I meant. But that doesn't mean you can tell me a lie, Lacey."
"What's lying, sir?"
"Hennessy is not dead yet."
"He is, sir. They all know he is. He hangs himself. With the pig."
Redman has been tricked by experts many times, and he thinks he will be a good judge for scammers. He knows all the signs. But the boy showed nothing. He was telling the truth. Redman felt it in his bones. The truth; the truth is nothing but.
That doesn't mean what the boy is saying is true. He was just telling the facts he understood. He thought it was dead. That's nothing.
"If it's dead-"
"He is, sir."
"If he was, how could he be here?"
The boy looked at Redman without a trace of sophistry on his face.
"Sir, don't you believe in ghosts?"
Such a transparent solution is confusing. Hennessy is dead, but Hennessy is here. Therefore, it is a ghost.
"Aren't you, sir?"
The boy did not ask a rhetorical question. He asked, no, he wanted a reasonable answer to his reasonable question.
"No, boy," Redman said. "no, I do not."
In the pigpen around the ground, the huge, nameless sow was hungry.
She judged the rhythm of the times, and as they developed, her desires began to grow. She knew that the obsolete in the trough had passed. Other appetites replaced those gluttonous pleasures.
Since the first time, she has liked food with a certain texture and certain resonance. She does not need food all the time, only when she needs it. Not demanding: feed her hands occasionally.
She stood at the gate of the prison, waiting and waiting without expectation. She went,, slapped, and her impatience turned into boring anger. In the nearby fence, her cut sons felt her pain and it was their turn. They know her nature, which is dangerous. After all, she had eaten their two brothers from her womb and lived fresh and moist.
Then came the sound of the faint blue veil, the soft brushing of the nettles, accompanied by the noise of the sound.
The two boys were approaching the sty at every step, respectful and cautious. She makes them nervous, which is understandable. She has many tricks.
When irritated, didn't she speak in the voice she possessed, and her curvy and fat pork mouth spoke with a stolen tongue? Does she sometimes stand on pink and royal pig's feet and ask the youngest boy to be sent into her shadow and her naked like a childbirth? Before the food they brought for her was cut into small pieces and flowers were placed between trembling fingers and thumbs, wouldn't she slam her feet on the ground? She did all these things.
What's worse is.
The boys knew tonight that they did not bring what she wanted. The meat on the plate was not what she deserved. Not the sweet white meat she asked for in her other voice, but the meat that could be removed by force if she wanted to. This meal tonight is stale bacon, stolen from the kitchen. The nourishment she really craves is the meat that is chased and frightened to enrich her muscles, and then frustrated like a hammered steak due to the hammering, so that the meat is specially protected. It takes a while to coax it to the slaughterhouse. At the same time, they hope she can accept their apologies and tears instead of devouring them in anger. When he reached the pigpen wall, one of the boys had his pants, and the sow smelled him. Her voice became different, enjoying the thrill of their fear.
She uttered a deep breath, not a deep breath. It said: I know, I know. Come on, be tried. I know I know.
She watched them pass through the slats of the gate. In the dark night, her eyes shone like jewels, because they were alive, it was brighter than the night, and because of lack, it was purer than the night.
The boys knelt at the door, their heads hung down, and they both gently held the plate, which was covered with a piece of dyed muslin.
"Good?" she said. The sound in their ears is clear and unmistakable. His voice came out of the pig's mouth. The big boy, a cracked black child, quietly spoke to his shiny eyes, doing his utmost fear: "This is not what you want, we are sorry."
Another boy, uncomfortable in his crowded pants, also muttered an apology.
"However, we will find him for you. We will. We will. We will bring him to you as soon as possible." "Why not tonight?" said the pig.
"He is being protected."
"A new teacher. Mr. Redman."
The sow seems to know all this. She remembered the confrontation next door, like he was a taxidermy, the way he stared at her. That is her enemy, the old man. She will have him. Oh yes, the boys heard her promise of revenge and seemed content to take things out of their hands. "Give her meat," the black boy said.
The other person stood up and took off the muslin. The bacon tastes bad, but the sow exudes a warm voice. Maybe she forgave them.
"hurry up."
The boy took the bacon between the first finger and thumb and gave it. The sow tilted her mouth to the side and ate, showing her yellowish teeth. It quickly disappeared. Second, third, fourth, and fifth are the same. The sixth and last one she took with her fingers was taken away with such grace and speed that the boy could only cry because her teeth pierced the thin fingers and swallowed them. He stretched out his hand from the stye wall and stared at the stump. Considering that she only caused a little harm. The top of his thumb and half of his index finger disappeared. The wound bleeds quickly and fully, splashing on his shirt and shoes. She grunted, seemingly satisfied.
The boy yelled and ran away.
"Tomorrow." The sow said to the rest of the supplicants. "Not this old pork. It must be white. White and lace." She thought it was a good joke.
"Yes," the boy said, "Yes."
"No failure," she ordered.
"Yes."
"Or I come to him myself. Do you hear me?"
"Yes."
"No matter where he hides, I will come for him myself. If I want, I will eat him in his bed. In his sleep, I will eat his feet first, then legs, then The ball, then the hip-"
"Yes Yes."
The sow said, "I want him." Her trotters grind on the straw.
"he's mine."
"Hennessy is dead?" Leftasser said, still bowing her head when she wrote an endless report. "This is another fabrication. One minute, the kid said he was in the center, the next moment he died. The boy didn't even tell the story."
Unless someone is as receptive to ghost ideas as Lacey, it is difficult to argue with these contradictions. Redman would never try to argue this with that woman. That part is nonsense. Ghosts are stupid. Only fear becomes visible. However, the possibility of Hennessy's suicide makes more sense to Redman. He insisted on his point of view.
"So, where did Lacey get the story about Hennessy's death? This is a very interesting thing." She looked up, her face stuck into the shell like a snail.
"The courses here are imaginative. If you hear the stories I told in the recording, the exoticism of some of them will surprise you."
"Is there suicide here?"
"In my time?" She thought for a while, her pen balanced. "There were two attempts. I don't think it was a plan to succeed. I cried for help."
"Is Hennessy alone?"
She shook her head, making herself a little sneer.
"Hennessy is unstable in a completely different direction. He thinks he will live forever. That is his little dream: Nietzsche Superman Hennessy. He has some contempt for the common herd. As far as he is concerned, he is far Beyond all of us, the mundane man is far beyond his misfortune-"
If you like the best trick or treat system, please collect it: (EbookFREE.me) The best trick or treat system is the fastest to update the literature.