[A] frightening thing was happening to me. I was remembering...something. Something that had to do with a girl's face close to mine, her eyes watching me, something that was horrible to remember...that had to do with pain...my own pain or someone else's? I did not know.
I might be wrong. I might be remembering, even now, despite the assertions I had made, going to her apartment that day in October. Perhaps, I had gone there, perhaps, I had done other things I could not remember...both before and after that day.
I shut my eyes, but found I could not shut out the image of that beautiful face, those wide-open, staring eyes. It would not down. And there was something else... something terrible that was coming that I could not prevent, that was coming again and again. And something else again, the sound of a violin...a sweet sound, yet horrible.
The Deadly Percheron receives:
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