Petula Percival Letters

Hunter Kirkwood

We meet again, for you are begging me to tell you more. For another day is another tale, but a tale of my experience will not leave my lips. At least not today. My main request has been to tell you about the many adventures I had in the sewers. Seldom has the Maldava been mentioned. A fact that has been greatly appreciated. Well, here you go.

It was not long after I fell into the sewers, maybe a month, maybe a week. Time is hard with no light, but alas, I was weary and burdened, for my leg was aching from a close call with an ogre (yes, the sewers have evil things down there). It had injured my lower calf with a great blow that opened up the flesh. Yet I had escaped, only just, by pure luck as it had been blinded by a ten-meter spider that had jumped on it, and I was able to escape. But now I was exhausted, for my survival had been hard. I was famished for rare food other than a living monster that came down there. But then I heard it. A slow thud, a beat almost, a paced, even thing I was scared of, yet in awe of. They sounded like footsteps, yet no beast could keep in time like that. It was a great marvel to hear, feel, and know that not everything down here was so imperfect. Alas, everything was so powerful, so strong.

Then it came, for all it was was a lion crossed bear—a lear. Yet a lear turned evil, for its eyes were pure black, and a howl escaped from its throat, yet the sound was deep, echoing into the mind, vibrating the dark cavern, or at least I thought it was at the time. The sound that had poured out of its mouth had the same ominous tone that the footsteps no longer carried. Utter darkness radiated out from it. And I respected it, for the noise that it owned would be heard in my mind for many long, dark days to come. However, all I could do was turn and run, for the power it carried was far beyond my ability to fight. It slowly stalked after me, for its presence was to be felt, and as I ran blindly through those deathly sewers, I knew this was the end. There was no way out.

Then I felt something brush past me, something sleek and fine. I knew it was a beast, for the touch had been of fur, yet what beast I did not know. And whether friend or foe was still unknown. Yet as I turned to find where it was, as I had stopped my mad sprint, I stepped back in fright, for it was glowing in the dark, a deep violet-red, and the shape it held was so terrifying that my heartbeat stopped. It had a lion’s body, yet three black mambas (one of the deadliest snakes in the city) sprouted from its neck in place of a head. It leapt at a darker patch from where the sound echoed, and I saw, or rather felt, that this was a battle far beyond my help, so I turned and fled. I never encountered either beast ever again in the sewers. However, I always remembered them and feared them.

Alas, that is all I have for today, my friends. So until you beg me again,


Petula Percival