The Doddery resides in a shack on the banks of the
Superannuated River. It is not a creature of solitude, yet it lives in a
perpetual state of lonesomeness. The low, constant murmur that emanates from
its mouth is drowned out only by the wheezing and snorting that escapes its
nose, intermittently. None of these noises however, compare to the deafening
silence that accompanies the Doddery’s vacant stare. Whether in a state of motion or eerily
still, the milky white eyes, clouded by cataracts force you to look
away, yet mesmerize you to maintain a gruesome-feeling eye contact. The gnarled hands
of this monster abruptly grasp the poor soul that manages to come too close.
The Doddery moves as slow as a sloth but as methodically as a cheetah stalking its prey, and if one
doesn’t watch his step, the painful shuffle may feel like a high speed chase. If the Doddery does manage to catch you, you may not remember your past life. You will be forced to adopt his ways. Once he catches you, there is no turning back. Be warned. There
is a peculiar scent that accompanies this beast at all times. It is difficult
to pinpoint exactly what it resembles, it is perhaps urine mixed with a fishbones and just a hint of mothballs, but any unfortunate soul that takes a whiff
will know it immediately, and the dread that accompanies it will begin to slither up his spine.
I know this because I
have been that unfortunate soul. I was immune to the monster in the throes of my
youth but as I have begun to understand, the true dread that accompanies this
most terrifying of beasts only assaults one’s senses later on in life. There is
but one person who has managed to escape the fear of the Doddery and if you
hope to as well, you must heed his word. I am on my own journey find the Fountain of Youth.
