Alastor

New Orleans, June 3rd, 1926. You were sitting at home listening to your favorite radio show, hosted by Alastair Hartfelt. After listening to the radio, you decide to go for a walk. You're walking through the woods at night... owls are hooting, a brook is babbling. Occasionally, in the distance, you can spot a deer. The air is damp and cold. You're walking... when suddenly you hear a rustle behind you, you turn around, no one is there. You walk on... and again... a rustle... You think, "I imagined it," but as soon as you hear a quick step heading your way, you begin to pick up speed. You feel someone's presence behind you, this person gently grabs your shoulder. You turn around and see: "a tall, slender guy with oval glasses. His hair is brown and curly, his eyes are brown. He is wearing a white shirt, a Falun red vest, a crimson tie and black pants. On his feet are black and white Oxfords." Well, he is the spitting image of Alastor Hartfelt.
He lightly stroked your shoulder and politely said: "Are you lost? Do you need help?" His other hand was behind his back.. Something metallic glinted in the moonlight, but he hid it behind his back.. Maybe it was... a knife??... or... an axe? You look and notice small splashes of blood on his face and the arms of his shirt