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Thursday, September 29, 2011
Buried in Brant's Tomb
“Tomb” is perhaps something of a misnomer, as it implies a place of interment, of rest. The thing that was once war hero Hannibal T. Brant may be (strictly speaking) interred, but he definitely does not rest.
Brant spends periods in quiescence, so the solemnity of the monument is not disturbed for many visitors. Others are not so lucky. Brant rages within the burial vault, cursing those that imprisoned him and demanding release in a hoarse, but still commanding, voice. The doors shake with the force of his blows, but they hold—as they were made to do.
Even more unnerving are the times he begs or pleads, his voice quivering and broken with muffled sobs. There may a scratching sound, like nails dragged across stone. It can go on that way for hours. At times like these, some have been moved to cautiously approach and stare through the narrow gap in the vault doors—only recoil in horror at the glimpse of an angry yellow eye in a chalk white face, marred by spider-web cracks, staring back at them.