I come from a family of German descent, and my Grandfather always had the best stories to tell when I was little. He was a Nazi soldier during World War II (he has since changed his views) and would tell me stories of the war and how he met Adolf Hitler himself. One summer when I was about thirteen, I was staying with him and my grandmother at their house. I had grown tired of listening to his stories but he insisted that I hear one more, so I agreed reluctantly and went upstairs with him. We sat in his office and he lit a candle, the smell of hazelnut was overwhelming.

He started by saying that this is a story he waited to tell me until I was older.

One night, he and four of his squad mates were camping out in the woods after a long day of walking. They were sitting around the fire, resting, talking about their wives back home or what they would do once the war was over. My Grandfather was listening to his friend Fredrick talk about his family back home, he was interrupted by the sound of twigs snapping and leaves crunching not ten feet away from their camp.

All the soldiers turned to see a young boy dressed in ragged clothing staring at them, my grandfather mentioned how he had only one shoe. Fredrick asked him if he was alright, and the boy said that he saw their fire and was wondering if they would like to stay at his uncle's cabin with him and enjoy some fresh food and warm beds. The soldiers quickly agreed, as their bread had gone stale and their meat was starting to go bad.

They followed the boy about twenty yards from their camp until they reached a large, wooden mansion in the middle of the woods. My grandfather mentioned this specifically, the smell that crawled into his nose as they approached the cabin, it smelt like when you burn meat and then let it sit for several hours. He then noticed, his lips felt strange, sticky. He realized someone was burning fat behind the house, and he could feel it in the air coating his lips. He asked the boy about this, and he said that his uncle preferred to burn the fat of animals he hunted than chopping wood.

The came around to the back of the house and found a piece of meat cooking over a large fire pit. The boy served them loaves of bread and began turning the spit. My grandfather had gotten mud on his uniform on their way through the woods and asked the boy if he could go inside and clean up. The boy agreed, and said there was a washroom up the stairs to the second floor backdoor and to the left, and said to go nowhere else in the house. My grandfather went inside, but had forgotten the directions and went to the right instead. He could feel the burning smell leaving his nose and was greeted by the sour smell of mold and rotten meat.

There was something else in the air though, something fouler, he could smell dried blood. He opened the door and instantly moved away from the smell, it was horrific. There was some kind of symbol painted on the floor, all around it were candles, books, and a butcher's knife. In the center there were several hunks of meat, and most alarmingly, what appeared to be human eyes. He turned around, and was greeted by a short, old bald man, he had tinted glasses and a cane, so my grandfather believed him to be blind.

He drew his rifle and pointed it at the man, demanding an explanation for what he saw. The old man smiled, he then flicked his wrist in a short, circular motion. My grandfather fell to the ground on his stomach, saying it felt like someone swung an iron bar at his legs and tripped him. There was a heavy force holding him on the ground, he tried to push himself up with is arms, but he saw the old man move his hand in a downward motion and my grandfather was slammed violently against the ground.

He screamed, hoping his fellow squadmates would hear him. The old man walked past him into the room and bent over, picking up the butchers knife. He stepped back over him and knelt down, smiling wickedly. As he moved his arm to swing, Fredrick burst inside with his rifle drawn, the old man spun and howled, Fredrick fired three shots, two hit the old man in the chest, and one hit him above the eye. The force was lifted off of my grandfather, Fredrick helped him up and turned to look at the old man's body. His glasses had fallen off, revealing empty eye sockets surrounded with dried blood.

They went back outside to find the other three squadmates staring at them, the little boy nowhere to be found.

They left the site as fast as possible, until finally they reached a clearing and set up camp. They were awake for five hours, and finally got to sleep. They woke up when the sun began to rise, and realized Fredrick was missing. They searched for two hours, and thirty yards away from their camp site, they found a corpse hung from a tree. The body was severely mutilated, and was missing it's feet, hands and head. They saw it was wearing a Nazi uniform, and realized it was Fredrick. Below the body they saw the little boy's shoe, and the butcher knife from the house.