Bolter's Black Dog's - A Tale of Terror

The rumors of Bolter's encounters with black dogs had been circulating for weeks, and I had always been skeptical. I mean, who in their right mind would believe in such nonsense? But then, one day, I was sitting in the local tavern, sipping on a pint of ale, when Bolter himself walked in. He looked pale and shaken, and I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine.

"'What's wrong, Bolter?' I asked him, as he took a seat at the bar.

"'The black dogs,' he whispered, his voice barely audible. 'They've been following me again. I can feel their eyes on me, even now.'

"I raised an eyebrow. 'Black dogs, you say? I thought that was just a story.'

"Bolter looked at me with a mixture of fear and desperation in his eyes. 'It's not just a story,' he insisted. 'I've seen them, I've felt their presence. They're always there, lurking just out of sight.'

"I didn't know what to say. Part of me wanted to believe him, but another part of me thought he was just delusional. But then, as I looked into his eyes, I saw something that made my blood run cold. There was a look of absolute terror there, a look that I had never seen before.

"'I'm telling you, they're real,' he said, his voice shaking. 'And they're coming for me.'

"I didn't know what to say. I just sat there, frozen in silence, as Bolter's eyes seemed to bore into my soul. And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, disappearing into the night as if the black dogs had called him away.

"I never saw Bolter again, but I never forgot that look in his eyes.