"It moved in violent jerks, as though whatever was imprisoned
inside was hurling itself against the stone-like seal."
Fothergill's Jug
By THORP McCLUSKY
A fascinating story about a strange jug that was dug out of the sands
of Mesopotamia, and the weird entity that dwelt within the jug
YESTERDAY, in Winsted, Connecticut, a total stranger told me this story. My wife and I live in Hartford; we have friends in Winsted, the Fred T. Winns (the resemblance between the city and family names is pure coincidence), and it was at their home that the narrative which follows was related to me.
It seems significant to me that no one in Winsted knew that we were coming there yesterday. We ourselves didn't know. Yesterday was a Saturday, a beautiful day, and about ten o'clock in the morning, Ruth, my wife, suggested that we go driving. We drove up along the Farmington River to Collinsville, and there Ruth said, "Well, we've come this far; we might as well continue on and see the Winns." It happened like that, without premeditation.
The Winns live right on the main
