The Eerie Adventures of the Lycanthrope Robinson Crusoe

I was so dead asleep at first, being fatigued with paddling the first part of the day and with walking the latter part, I did not wake thoroughly. But I did think I dreamt somebody spoke to me. As the voice continued to repeat "Robin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe," at last I began to wake more and was at first frightened and started up in the utmost consternation. But no sooner were my eyes open but I saw my Poll sitting on the top of the hedge and knew it was he that spoke to me. In just such bemoaning language I had used to talk to him, and teach him.

 

"Robin Crusoe," he repeated. "There you are." And then, quite unexpectedly, did he utter words I had not taught him, and these words did give me a chill and a shiver like the icy sea of England. "They will kill you, Robin Crusoe."

 

I confess, at first I was so torn tween the joy of hearing my name aloud by one other than I, and a terror at the same after six long years, that I did not think on what little Poll did say. Then the import of his words was known to me, and I wonder'd who had taught my parrot such words, and why, and when.

 

"Robin Crusoe! Robin Crusoe!" squawk'd he. "They come to kill you and eat your flesh. Your beast cannot save you, Robin Crusoe. Your soul shall feed the Great Dreamer! Ia! Ia!!"

 

At this did Poll fall into madness, as one who has seen awful things that cannot be unremembered, as for a while I thought I may do upon this island. The parrot shook on the hedge as if chill'd and squawk'd out many sounds and noises that had no meaning behind them. Tho' as I watched and listen'd I did hear a pattern, and knew the sounds were a language unknown to me, and Poll call'd out the same words again and again as one who chants or prays. And as I listened more, these words did began to hurt my ears and head. As the sound of a cannon at close quarters may bleed the ears, so did Poll's squawks make me recoil and cover my ears, tho' they were little louder than his usual cries. Beneath my skin, the beast growl'd, making its rage at these words known as well.

 

And then Poll stiffen'd and fell over dead on the floor of my bower. His blood ran from his eyes and beak, as it some times is wont to do in man or creature when death comes swift.

 

 

 

 

 

More time, my herd,

 

my condition

 

 

I could not leave Poll in my summer house, nor would I bury him within the walls of my bower. Thus I did climb over the fence and find a spot beneath a large tree, much like the tree I had first found Poll in many years afore this. Using one of my hatchets and my hands, I made the dead bird a small grave fit for any manor Lord or Lady. Yet when I climb'd back over the wall to retrieve his little body, I discover'd I could not tolerate the thought of touching the dead parrot. A great unease hung across my shoulders, and I bethought myself that this was the beast, still anger'd at the little bird for reasons unknown to me. Then did I realize that this unease was all my own. "This is," I said aloud, "what each of God's creatures feels at the sight of me and the smell of the beast under my skin. Is it little wonder none but my hungry goat can abide me?" And thus did I wonder what had dwelt beneath Poll's skin and hidden itself with his feathers as it spoke to me.

 

At last I pull'd off my great cap and wore it upon my hand like a glove, and even then touching the dead bird gave me a great unease, as if many ants were marching across my bare skin, tho' there were no such things. This feeling did not pass until dear Poll was bury'd beneath the soil of the island.

 

That moon, the beast was most territorial again, and stalk'd the forest for three nights as one who invites trouble into their lives. I found its tracks criss'd and cross'd by my summer house, oft approaching the grave of Poll but never going to it. Together with Poll's dark words this did worry my thoughts, and the next month was one of much apprehension and reflection for me. By the next moon, tho', the beast once again ran and hunted and kill'd, and I took this as a sign the darkness had past us by again.

 

In this government of my temper I remained near a year, lived a very sedate, retired life, as you may well suppose. My thoughts being very much composed as to my condition, and comforted in resigning myself to the dispositions of Providence, I thought I lived very happily in all things, except that of society.

 

I improved myself in this time in all the mechanic exercises which my necessities put me upon applying myself to. I believe I could, upon occasion, have made a very good carpenter, considering how few tools I had.

 

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