Reeking Foulness - A Short Paranormal Story Out Of Augsburg - Part Of The Cadaverous Planets

The bed was of rags and straw, the old man seemedgazing over the edge of the street, and he nailed them
to be an old soldier of some sort, perhaps from WWI, Ito the wall as if to dry, and he had some already
guessed; he slumbered about his shanty, in Augsburg,drying, and now the rages, that I thought were rages,
West Germany, 1970. A year I will never forget, hewere not rags, but some kind of substance, funny I
looked as if he had lived a long life, a hard lived life, andthought. I was now more curious.
now, in a word, a wake drunk, so I thought because ofI noticed he was boiling something, it was that
his behavior. He had a haggard look to his bonesubstance, because he pulled some of them out, and
structure, charcoal and olive skin, huge shoulders, andchopped them also up, and a few he swallowed
tall, perhaps close to seven feet; an unsavory look, awhole.
villainous composure, eyes hard. Curiosity to him--so itAfter about thirty more minutes, it got to me, what he
seemed--was of a thing of the past, he paid little to nowas boiling on that small gas stove. My instinct or
attention to me, or the people walking by, or standingsentries said they were something eatable that was
about waiting for buses, taxis and so forth: '...an oldmysterious, so I walked across the street, looked
warrior,' I said to myself, indeed he must be; WWI, yes,closer and began to bethink --this was none of my
what else.business, or was it? Anyhow, my observations
It was1970, I was lost in the beautiful city of Augsburg,quickened as I approached, the old man's eyes had a
the streets I was not familiar with yet; I was assignedyellowish crust look to them, one I had never seen
to Reese Compound, US Military stock, the 1/36before.
Artillery Unit, A Battery (I was twenty-two years old, aThere seemed to be no danger as I now stood in
Private), and it was a weekend, and I was moseyingfront of the shanty. Accordingly I began to look at the
about. Being lost in a city was not a big thing to mewall, what was in the boiling pan, the hole behind the
back then; I could simply jump in a taxi and be back attable that held the little gas stove on top of it, in the
my unit in fifteen minutes any place in Augsburg.corner, and on the table where he was doing the
By this time, standing nearby this shanty of sorts, itchopping, where there was blood. Then seizing the
was early afternoon, Saturday to be exact. In mymoment, I asked the old man if he knew what he was
confusion of where I was at, I saw a small creek, in adoing?
park close by, with a bridge that crossed it. I wanted to"Yes," he echoed, as if the sound came from his feet;
cross it, but got interested in the old man; nonetheless, Iadding, "cooking leftover meat from the butcher shop
ventured beyond the old man's shanty to the park andacross from my place."
onto the bridge, elbows on the bridge's wooded railing,I looked closer, into the boiling water, on the wall, on the
looking over towards the old man again, the oldtable, and what was hidden behind his coffee cup,
German war veteran, or so I supposed he was. Heperhaps not hidden, but laying there.
was doing something: intimately each time I looked, II held my mouth, for a moment closed my eyes, and
just did not concentrate on what.when I opened them, I confirmed indeed I was seeing
The old shanty had but three walls to it, the front open,right. An unholy sense came upon me, and I said as
not sure if he had sliding doors attached to the ceiling,nonchalantly as I could, "Sir, I hate to tell you, but you
but I was hoping he did, how else could he secure theare cooking some species of bats." (a species I had
place at night. In any case, I didn't cross the bridge, Inever seen before.)
walked to the edge of the park, his shanty across theHe looked deep into my eyes, as if holding me in a
street, sat on a tree stump, and pondered his business,trance, "I'm eating my food from my planet, it's
like a peeping tom, I suppose you could say. I watchedtraditional, ice-bats...!" so he said, his eyes deep dark as
him doing whatever he was doing; I simply could notthe bats wings. I next took a moments rest, there on
get a clear picture of what he was doing. He mumbledthe floor behind him was a heap of bats, dead.
to himself in some language, it didn't sound like German(--one thing never left my mind those ten months in
to me, and it wasn't English, or Spanish, I knew all threeAugsburg, which was the name of the butcher shop
languages.next to the old man's shanty, "The Moiromma Special
The old man's cloths was like a scarecrows; perhapsCuts." I would later on in life put two and two together,
he was 90-years old (a guess of course) not sureit was discovered (yet untold to the general public of
why I say ninety, but it just seemed so, wrinkled and all,earth) the adjacent solar system to Earth's, that there
but he was agile, and strong looking, he could havewas a peculiar plant, among the so called 'Cadaverous
been younger or older. He then pulled these old lookingPlanets,' called Moiromma, where legends of Tangor,
rags out from behind a stove, a hole in the wall itRognat, and Siren the Great were told, long told, long
seemed, where he kept them, and then he choppedago.
them up, and I got a better look by standing up, and