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It was April 2nd, 2004. I was walking down 13th street at about midnight. I stood still for a brief moment. That was when I saw a black truck wheeling towards me. In a hurry, I jumped into a bush in the yard at 309 East 13th Street in order to avoid being hit. As I jumped into the bush, I heard a raven rush out of the bush to avoid being crushed. About 11 minutes after jumping in, I was found by a strange man with grey hair and a long beard. He had bandages covering his left hand, in which appeared to simply be a stub.

"Who art thee, young sir?" the man said. "Don't tryeth to convince me that thou art not thither, for I can see thee." I leave the bush and turn to face the man.

"My name is Sakar McBethel, sir," I replied to him. "I am a bit confused as to why you speak in a formal English dialect. What's your name, sir?"

"I wast born as Benjamin Tyrane, but many people refer to me as The Wizard of Jernsen," he states as he approaches me, with a slight limp in his step. "The reason wherefore I speaketh this way is because I wast born in 1339 in England."

I was confused as to how he managed to live for 665 years, as living this long would be deemed impossible by any man.

"How have you managed to live for so long?" I asked the wizard.

"I has't managed to survive for as many years as I has't because I hath used sorcery to increase mine life span. However, this magic hadst a nasty side effect: I hath lost mine hath left handeth."

I didn't think much of it, so I walked into his house. As I tried to walk in, a black cat ran towards me to greet me.

"Young Sakar, this is mine pet cat Longtail," he told me as he picked up the feline. It was a mangy-looking thing that was missing its right eye.

When I walked into the kitchen and sat down, I had a cup of tea. After this, I realized that the house was not lit by typical electrical lighting, but with candles. These candles gave off an eerie glow. I didn't bother to ask why he had used candles, as I knew that this would also probably involve the fact that he had been alive since the 1300s. I checked my watch and realized that it was now about 1:43 A.M.

"Well, I have to go now, great Wizard of Jernsen, as it is getting late." I spoke as politely as I could to avoid offending the man.

"No, doth not wend. wherefore not stayeth hither until the morning? I has't a sleep chamber upstairs that thee can useth. "

I tried to insist that I had to leave, but he didn't allow me to. After what I would guess is nearly four minutes of arguing, I eventually gave in and stayed over for the night.

Some time passed and I realized that it had turned to 3:00 A.M. I then went over to his bed and looked upon the old man. I looked at his left hand for a brief period. Out of morbid curiosity, I decided to remove the gauze from his hand.

When nine minutes had passed and the gauze was removed, I looked at the stump from where his hand presumably once was, only to see a horizontal slit down the middle. After a few seconds, the slit opened up to reveal a grotesque yellow eye that looked as if it was taken from a goat while it stared right at me. Almost as quickly as it had opened, the Wizard of Jernsen stood up and grabbed me by my neck.

"Thee should've nev'r removed the bandages that hath covered mine handeth. tis fill'd with pangs of hunger now and must taketh thy hath left handeth."

As he said this, I saw the eye on his left arm close, only to open as a mouth with gaping teeth, as if the teeth of a shark had been jammed into the gap. I managed to escape by biting the man in the right hand.

When his grasp was released, I bolted for the door as quickly as I possibly could, only to be stopped by the cat, with the empty eye socket producing an unnerving mouth, almost as terrifying as that of the man's, but the mouth instead moved towards me with a strange organ that appeared as if a worm had escaped through the cat's eye. I leapt over the cat and bolted out of the house as quickly as possible.

After two months, the Wizard of Jernsen was found dead. It turns out that the cat had attacked the Wizard during the conflict I had and managed to remove the magic that granted him immortality. All that remains in the house at 309 East 13th Street in Jernsen, Maine is that same cat, looking for its next victim in order to help it survive for an eternity. However, I am simply assuming that it is the same feline I met on that fateful night, as it has become formless, never staying in one shape for more than a few seconds.

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