I'm a geologist by training, but my heart led me to become a
Ranger in the Southeast United States.
The serenity of the wilderness, the whispering Pines, and the
untouched beauty of nature. It was all I ever wanted.
But as time passed, the isolation grew on me.
My only company was the occasional visitor and the
memories of my college days. Of course, we all have the
typical Ranger riffraff, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't make
at least a few friends. I'm a bit of an introvert, so a
majority of the Ranger types I met reminded me a little bit of
frat boys. However, I did find some folks I
like to hike and fish with, but for the most part, I did my
duties and spent a lot of time alone.
I worked in the fields for about 20 years in total.
One day about a decade ago, an elderly couple caught my eye.
They were not your typical tourists.
There was a certain familiarity in their eyes, a kind of
longing. They were from out West,
visiting the park they had gotten engaged in many moons
ago. They were searching for a
particular spot, a fragment of their past encapsulated in a
photograph. But age and time had reshaped
the landscape. Moved by their story, I offered
to help them. We pored over the photographs,
their wrinkled hands pointing out landmarks, their voices
trembling with anticipation. I escorted them in my vehicle,
the silence punctuated by their soft whispers and the crunching
of gravel underneath the tires. We hiked the last stretch, the
forest echoing with the rustle of leaves underneath our feet.
When I say I escorted them, I mean they followed along in
their Toyota 4 Runner. There was no way I was going to
help these city slickers way out into the wilderness only for
them to have no way of getting back.
They had boots and a 4X4, enough to tell me they took off road
travel seriously, but I was still pretty cautious about how
far I would take them. It was still early in the
afternoon and my duties were finished for the day, so I spent
an hour or so bumping around the backside of a basin along the
river as I knew their location had to be near this area.
The rock, the trees, the way the earth dipped away in the photo.
This area had all the stuff it needed.
It was a dead ringer, sure as sunrise.
I ended up being right. We parked our rigs and hiked
down the short ravine that took us very near the water's edge
and right down there in this earthy little pocket, looked
exactly like what they showed me in the photographs.
I got down first, helped out the wife next, and then the husband.
They were over the moon. We found the spot, a picturesque
bend along the river, bathed in the soft glow of the setting
sun. I left them there, two
silhouettes against the dying light, a picture of timeless
love. It's beautiful to me that they
made such a trip, not just the miles over the land, but through
the very envelope of time itself.
They were out here to satisfy their younger devotions of love.
I know it all sounds silly, but this was the kind of affection
that swayed me to be a Ranger. Affection for the land, for
mankind, for every fleeting moment in between all that.
It's bleeding heart drivel, but it's how I feel.
As I returned to my station, a strange unease gripped me.
I couldn't tell you why, but something was just off.
They explained it clear as day. They wanted to share an
afternoon in that old area, retake some photos and all that
good stuff. For the most part, pretty
typical visitor activity. However, the vibe of that old
couple just carried a different energy.
By the time I got back to my post, I had convinced myself
that I had messed up. As a park Ranger, you can
imagine that's a poor feeling to have, like you failed to do your
job. I decided to wait for them to
ensure that they would leave safely.
Night fell and the park was bathed in eerie silence.
The other day, trippers trickled out like sand through an
hourglass. But as the closing hour
approached, all the traffic choked off into nothing, not
even a straggler's headlight bumping along in the distance.
I called to the other check stations in the area and got
vague reports, but nobody could confirm that the elderly couple
had exited in a Toyota 4 Runner. The couple hadn't left.
I could feel it in my damn bones.
Never since that day have I had such a gut feeling like that,
Anxiety gnawing at me, I left my assistant at the entrance
station and retraced the drive I took back into the Canyon.
There wasn't a soul save for a couple of overnight campers that
we already knew about as they had the proper permits and
paperwork. I bumped along until I got to
the drop down and there I saw the Forerunner just sitting
there in the dark. It was eerie and made me start
to sweat. I actually remember my mouth
getting over salivated like my glands were about to go haywire
and I was about to throw up. Fingers shaking beyond belief.
I shifted into park and killed the engine but left the
headlights on. It was dark out there and I knew
I was going to need all the help I could get finding them.
I hiked down to the ravine, lost my nerve, and just kind of
waited there for a minute. Their car was here, so I knew
what I was about to find. Probably something bad.
I called out a few times, hoping maybe I'd be wrong, that they
just got a little off course or maybe couldn't make the short
climb back up to the car. Only silence answered me though,
so I manned up and finish the descent down to the shore of the
river. The sight that greeted me was as
beautiful as it was horrifying. Moonlight helped me out a bit.
I could see some forms sprawled out in the dirt below a tree,
legs pointed toward the water. It looked like I maybe even
disturbed them, as if they were just bundled up, cuddling
beneath the endless stars overhead.
Hey, Ranger district here. I called out softly.
They didn't move. I took a quaking breath and lit
the scene up with my flashlight. There they lay, spooning on the
riverbank, motionless. Their faces were serene, a sense
of finality hung in the air. They were both dead, but they
didn't look scary or miserable. It was the weirdest thing,
coming up on them like that, and having that premonition earlier
like this would be their fate. They clearly weren't murdered.
This was some kind of planned suicide by the look of it.
I seriously doubted they both dropped dead of strokes or heart
attacks at the exact same time. I called the cops, my mind in a
whirlwind of confusion and sorrow.
The following hours were a blur of flashlights, hushed
conversations, and deep, overwhelming sadness.
The police disclosed their identities, but little else.
It was only later on that I learned the heartbreaking truth
of the matter. The wife was terminally ill, her
life slowly being claimed by cancer.
They had chosen to end their lives together in the place
where their journey had begun. That news hit me hard, but I
found solace in the thought that they were at peace together in
death, as they had been in life. They hadn't asked for help
because they didn't want to implicate anyone else.
Their final act was a testament to their love, a love so
profound that they chose to embrace death at a place etched
in their memory under the vast, indifferent sky.
Their story, though tragic, touched me deeply and was a
stark reminder of the transience of life and the enduring power
of love. As I walk the trails of the
park, under the towering trees and along the winding river,
I'll always remember them, Two souls who found their final
resting place in the corner of the world that they loved,
leaving behind a story that echoes in the silence of that
wilderness. I've spent years working as a
Ranger in a desert park, growing accustomed to the harsh
conditions and eerie silence that comes with patrolling this
unforgiving landscape. The park is a remote gem,
offering breathtaking views that few other places can match, but
it's not for the faint of heart. Temperatures soar during the
summer months, and the isolation can be overwhelming.
That's why during the offseason, we only allow day visitors.
It's just too dangerous for anyone to venture in alone,
especially when the mercury rises.
As a non peace officer for the Ranger district, my days are
usually filled with routine tasks, maintaining trails,
monitoring wildlife, and assisting the occasional lost
hiker. But one particular summer a few
years ago was very different. The heat was oppressive, even
for a seasoned Ranger like myself.
It beat down relentlessly, making every step feel like a
chore. My colleagues and I were
restless, searching for anything to break the monotony.
That's when we received the reports.
Multiple cars had been spotted entering and exiting the South
side of the park, and some visitors claimed to be seeing
masked individuals running along the roads.
At first, we thought it was just some college kids filming a
project or a group of thrill seekers looking for some kind of
rush. But as those sightings
continued, we couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Our supervisor, a grizzled old Ranger named Alan, called a
meeting to discuss the situation.
We gathered around the map table, sipping coffee and
swapping theories. Some thought it might be a group
of poachers, others believed it was just a prank gone wrong, but
Alan had a hunch that it was something more sinister.
He proposed that we break into patrols and conduct a full
survey of the park, covering every trail and road to get to
the bottom of this mystery. There were a lot of us that off
season, so we had the manpower to conduct a thorough top to
bottom investigation of the park.
We couldn't check every little back Rd. but we covered all the
main drags, intersections, parking lots and campgrounds.
The places that would be able to house a lot of traffic, cars and
people. I was paired with my colleague
Rachel, a new Ranger with a keen eye for detail.
We set out in our truck armed with water, snacks and a healthy
dose of skepticism. The sun beat down on us as we
drove, the radio crackling with static as we venture deeper into
the park. Rachel and I had our own
theories. I was convinced it was some kind
of poaching scenario. The masks that were reported
were just an image in my head. Guys in trucks, tailgates down,
ready to load up their kill. As we patrolled, the silence was
eerie. No bird seemed to be chirping,
no insects were buzzing. Just the hum of our engine and
the soft crunch of gravel beneath our tires.
We saw no other signs of life, no indication of what we were
searching for. Just the endless expanse of the
desert stretching out like an oven baked canvas.
We stopped at each trailhead, scanning the horizon for any
sign of activity. Rachel checked the maps, keeping
an eye out for anything that might attract the riff raff.
I searched for any sign of recent human activity.
Footprints, tire tracks, anything that might give us a
lead between the map and landscape.
We were coming up dry. That being said, there were 20
teams looking over the lowlands. We were only searching one
little part. Just because we didn't find
anything didn't mean the same for the others.
The hours ticked by, the sun climbing higher in the sky.
We still found nothing. No signs of life, no signs of
trouble. Just the desert, waiting
patiently for us to uncover whatever was going on out there.
After a while, though, Rachel and I ran out of things to do.
We were looping through the same trail heads, checking the same
backways. There wasn't a sign of anything
out there. We were starting to get hungry
and low on fuel. We decided to buzz back to base,
refuel ourselves in the truck, and then maybe get orders for a
different area. As we drove back to the station,
the radio crackled alive. Alan's voice came through, his
tone very serious. All patrols be advised.
We received another report of a masked individual, this time
near the old mine shaft. Proceed with caution.
Rachel and I exchanged a look. This was getting serious.
We hit the gas, our truck now speeding towards the mine shaft,
ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Alan sounded dreadful over the radio, so we really didn't know
what to expect or what to think. As we arrived at the mine shaft,
the other Rangers were already scouring the area, their trucks
parked haphazardly around the entrance.
We joined the search, our eyes scanning the dusty terrain for
any sign of these masked individuals.
There was nothing. No sign of them, no sign of any
recent human activity. Just the remnants of past
visitors, cigarette butts, spent shell casings and all kinds of
various litter. Still, it was creepy.
The mine was this old derelict thing dropped right into the top
of the hillside. There was a wooden frame and a
portion of a ladder that fed you straight Into Darkness, but
beyond that it was just collapsed.
There might be little offshoots a person could hide in, but
there was no way we were going down there to look for anybody
that didn't need help. Rachel and I exchanged a look,
our initial excitement dwindling.
Now it seemed our theory about college kids was correct.
Some artistic project or prank, whatever the kids do.
We were about to pack up and head back to the station when
Alan called out. Hold up folks, let's leave a
pair of Rangers behind to keep an eye on the place, just for a
few hours. Just in case.
Two Rangers volunteered to stay behind.
The rest of us loaded into our trucks and headed back to the
main base. As we came around a bend, a
voice crackled over the radio. We got a vehicle parked behind
some rocks at the dog campground.
Look suspicious. We were coming down from the
steep slope hill that the mine was on.
We had a great vantage point of the area on the South side of
the park, including a couple of the outlying campgrounds.
One of the rear Rangers, while looking down off the Cliff, just
happened to spot a vehicle hiding at one of these
campgrounds. Our convoy quickly reoriented,
beginning the long slow descent down the hillside towards that
campsite. This area was notorious for
attracting undesirables, riff raff and troublemakers who
thought they could escape the law by venturing into the parks
furthest reaches. The campground was a hot spot
for illegal activity. We approached it with caution.
It's why we dubbed it the Dog Campground.
There was always something dodgy going on out there.
It was usually harmless, but still, you can never be too
sure. There were stories of tweakers
and all manner of whack jobs squatting on those fringes.
As we entered the campsite, our eyes scanned the area, taking in
the scattered trash and abandoned gear.
The car was parked behind a cluster of rocks, partially
hidden from view. We spread out our boots
crunching on the gravel. As we began to investigate.
The first thing that we noticed. The car was inoperable.
It was white and black, burned out so bad that nothing
remained. None of us wanted to approach.
Obviously, something seriously illegal was going on.
Alan immediately called in the local Sheriff's Department,
requesting deputies on the scene right away.
Then he sent a pair of us back to the district building so they
could lead the lawmen back to the scene of whatever crime that
we just discovered. The air was heavy with its
ominous silence, the only sound of creaking trees and the
distant hum of a family buzzing around our heads.
Rachel and I walked the perimeter, our eyes scanning the
ground for any sign of activity. The sun continued to beat down
on us, casting long shadows across the dusty terrain.
Again, nobody wanted to approach that car, so we just milled
around looking for any other clues.
There were more casings and a big chopping log that had some
cuts in it, as well as some dark staining.
We really didn't know what to make of that.
Every step just seemed like a slow motion nightmare.
As if we were being watched by unseen eyes, the trees loomed
over us, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to
snatch us. I just couldn't shake that
feeling that we were walking into some kind of trap, that
something or someone was waiting for us, just out of sight.
As we approached the car, I noticed it was old, rusted, and
covered with a thick layer of dust.
The windows were blown out, leaving long jagged shards like
teeth in the frame. I tried.
The door handle melted in place. Rachel and I exchanged another
look, our instincts screaming at each other that something was
off. We began to circle the car,
searching for any signs of forced entry or exit, and that's
when I saw it, what looked like a head resting in the front
seat. I froze in place, just kind of
hollered for everyone to freeze. Everyone did, and Alan slowly
crept up to my side. My heart began to race as I
called out to the others. We got something here.
What is it man? Quit screaming.
Alan instructed me. I pointed down to what I was
looking at. Alan peaked over my shoulder and
sucked in a breath, then took a few steps back.
He could see a little more than I could.
Just one more step was all it took.
I could see the corpse for what it was, not just burned to a
crisp, but methodically dissected like a frog on a 6th
grade science lab table. It was hard to tell what was
what, but it looked like someone had chopped the guy apart.
We all retreated from the car and tried to calm ourselves
down, but at this point we were desperate for the sheriff to
arrive. That was at least an hour out.
I wish I could say that we got the answers and relief that we
desired. When the law got there, they
taped it off and started taking photos, but when we explained
the body and when they saw it, their entire demeanor seemed to
change. They dismissed us, said they
would reach out if they had any further questions.
When we came back to check on the scene the next day, that
vehicle was gone as well as all the trash from the area.
We got the official report a few weeks later.
All of us were stunned. The conclusion was suicide.
The man had been seat belted into the vehicle and then set it
on fire. But before that someone had laid
him out and removed his arms and legs with a wood chopping axe.
Probably the chopping log that we saw with those dark stains on
top. So how did he cut his own limbs
off, climb into the car, put a seat belt on, then lighted on
fire? Allen, the lead for the
district, said there was a lot of illegal drug trafficking in
the area. It had to be related.
No other scenario made sense. It also made sense why the
sheriff's weren't too keen to investigate.
There wasn't going to be any leads or breakthroughs in a case
like this. This was a make or break
experience for our department that year.
A lot of people moved on to different parks, different
occupations all together. Murder at the edge of the world
wasn't in the job description and a lot of us felt like we
were moments away from walking into our own deaths that day.
Not me though. I stuck with the district and
still work in that unforgiving desert to this day.
I have a lot of cool, weird stories, but this is definitely
the darkest thing to ever happen on the job.
I thought I had hit the lottery when I met my boyfriend's
family. His mother was so nice and
welcoming from day one. She immediately wanted to
include me in family traditions even though I was just a
girlfriend back then. My boyfriend's father was a
little quiet and a typically manly man, but he was nice
enough to everyone. It felt beautiful and things
only got better when my boyfriend proposed.
I invited my mother-in-law, along with my mother and sisters
to almost every event that I was having as the bride.
She cried when she saw me in my dress at the fitting and I can't
describe the kind of speech that she made at the wedding.
Those were some of the most beautiful words anyone has ever
said to me in my entire life. My own mother told me that I was
the luckiest girl alive to find such wonderful in laws because
my paternal grandmother was I guess a raging lunatic.
In short, she was never our grandma because she hated my
mother so much, but as it stood, my future children, if and when
I decided to have them, would have both sets of grandparents.
So my mother was excited for me. I should probably give everyone
some fake names to make things a little clearer here and keep
things relatively anonymous. I'll call my mother-in-law
Laura, and my husband Ron. You should also understand that
we're a Caucasian American family and this happened this
century. Obviously, no one was really
religious. My husband's family were
Protestant Catholics, but not really churchgoers, and my
family only attended church for weddings.
Really. In short, there were no special
clashes or really any signs of what would come next.
I can't say that there was any evident flip of the switch
because it all happened so gradually.
I was the literal frog in a pot of slowly boiling water, as I
like to say. Ron and I went on our honeymoon
to the Bahamas and had a wonderful time.
We talked about nothing and everything at the same time.
One thing I made clear is that I was considering Graduate School,
so I wanted to wait a few years before we started having any
children. We had only discussed these
things in general terms, but after marriage you have to set a
few ground rules to really let each other know which direction
you're going in. Ron was completely supportive.
He said it was a wonderful idea to wait and we could save money
for the future, get a better house, etcetera.
Amazing, I thought. When we got back from our trip,
we settled into our daily routines as a married couple.
I should have noticed at that point what I didn't when we were
dating. Or you could say that it started
at that time. But I began cooking all the
meals and Ron got sloppier than ever.
We only lived together for a year before we were married, and
he was never really that sloppy. He liked cooking for me, but in
this sort of new normal, he was leaving things around, not
washing dishes, telling me when he needed laundry done and what
I needed to make him for dinner. I know that was a red flag right
away, but you don't notice this stuff when you're still riding
the high of a wedding and honeymoon.
I was working too, and researching how and where to
apply to Graduate School, how much money we would have to
spend, and if I could juggle it with my job.
By the end of that first week back, I was completely
exhausted. On Sunday I was looking forward
to sleeping and just sort of rotting in bed all day.
Instead, Ron dropped the bomb on me that his parents were coming
for lunch so I needed to get the house ready.
I asked him why he didn't tell me sooner and he replied that he
thought he did and anyway this would be our weekly routine now.
He said excuse me. I asked what he meant by that,
and he said that his mother had decided that we needed to have a
weekly lunch or dinner because she didn't want us to lose touch
with daily life. I told him I would have been
fine with that if only he had discussed it with me earlier,
and I'm tired from that crazy week previously.
Ron said that if I didn't want to do it, I should be the one to
call his mother and tell her. I was so angry and honestly, I
love Laura so much that I wouldn't dare do such a thing.
I got up from bed and told Ron that if we were working so hard
on a Sunday, he had to help, and he agreed.
Laura and her husband, whom we'll call Anthony, arrived
after I spent the entire morning making a nice lunch.
And what did Ron do? He mowed the lawn.
I guess that was something. But anyway, we sat down to
lunch. Laura wanted to know all about
our honeymoon, and we laughed, telling her stories and such.
After lunch, Ron and his father went to the back patio to drink
and talk. I didn't like that because it
left me with all the dishes. Luckily, I had Laura who
volunteered to help and I thanked her gladly.
I felt comfortable enough to talk to her about the few things
that I was currently dealing with.
I told her that her son was becoming sloppier than he'd ever
been and she just sort of laughed and said something along
the lines of that always happens to men when they get married.
I asked her what she did to change that and she looked at me
funny. She didn't understand why I
wanted to change that. She told me I simply had to
follow along because I was married and becoming a wife
meant taking care of my husband. I laughed.
I honestly and truly thought that she was kidding in that
moment and there was no way this amazing woman was telling me
something so 1950s she had to be joking.
When I looked at her again, she wasn't laughing with me.
Laura was staring me dead in the face and I kind of lost my
breath for a second from how creepy it was.
I'm not kidding, she said, and showed only a little annoyance
as she continued. She said it was her job for
years to take care of her husband, and she also asked if I
was looking down on her. I immediately shook my head.
I couldn't believe that she would interpret my laughter that
way, but I also explained that I was working just as hard as him
and that we should be sharing the household responsibilities
and everything that entails. Laura grabbed my arm and
squeezed a little too hard for comfort but not enough for me to
complain in the moment. And she says this marriage and
when you have kids, it'll be harder and you have to prepare
for that. I want my grandkids to grow up
in a good home. I tried to loosen her fingers
and said that was fine, but Ron and I had discussed kids and we
wouldn't be having them anytime soon.
The arm squeezing got painful. This time.
She asked what I was talking about and I told her that Ron
and I had agreed to wait because I was going to grad school.
Finally she let my arm go and through the dish plate that she
had been helping me dry onto the sink.
I actually jumped at the noise. She told me I couldn't wait to
have children. I was getting too old.
I guess 28 is old and I needed to start having children
immediately or they would come out.
And I won't write this, but she used the R word and other not so
nice terms. Then she went into a lecture
about women prioritizing the wrong things.
According to her, a career wasn't important for a woman,
what mattered was family only. Besides, I already had a college
degree and a good job, why would I need anything else?
I had accomplished everything and it was time to focus on the
future. Now, don't get me wrong, I
wasn't being persuaded by this very antiquated rant, but I was
in such shock that she would say these kinds of things to me.
One reason I mentioned our country, race and religion and
more is that I understand people in other places still have these
sorts of expectations in their society.
But not in modern America, I thought.
Not the one I grew up in or the one I thought I was marrying
into. Yet I was so stunned that I just
sort of took it. When Laura finished her rant,
she went to grab the dish plate again, but I lowered my voice to
something very soothing and asked her to sit down.
I served her some tea and got back to work to finish the
dishes. When I picked up her empty cup,
she gently took my arm again and said, don't tell Ron any of
this, these are wife worries, he doesn't need to know.
Screw that, I thought. I sat Ron down that night as
soon as his parents left, which took way longer than I expected
and lunch almost turned into a nightmare.
I was worried about having to make them dinner, but I also
told my husband that I wasn't going to put up with any of this
attitude and I didn't sign up to be a housewife.
I was going to advance my career and he was going to be my
partner, not a child that I had to take care of.
If he couldn't do that, I thought that we might have to
get divorced. And he panicked and he
apologized and said that he hadn't noticed what he was doing
and he was sorry. Well, good, I thought, but I
needed more than just apologies. I wanted a real change in him,
and this did work. Following that conversation, Ron
went back to being the partner that he had been before
marriage. The problem was of course Laura,
my mother-in-law, whom I really couldn't talk to like I did with
my husband. I agreed to Sunday lunch every
week just to keep the peace, but Laura began to show up more
often. It was always after I had
arrived from work on the 1st surprise visit.
She knocked and I opened and let her in.
Not so gladly, but what could I really do?
She came to show me something under the guise of welcoming me
more into the family. It was a cookbook, a copy of the
one all the women in their family had at home.
It was very nice, but she made me cook one of the recipes that
night and she stayed and she didn't help at all.
Laura said that I had to learn on my own because she wouldn't
be there forever. Ron arrived and we sat down and
she left without helping to clean up.
Another day she showed up with my father in law's shirts to
teach me how to sew buttons. Another time her lesson was a
special way to do laundry that left things softer and better
and I was kind of losing my patience with her.
I told Ron and he said he would have a talk with her later.
She wanted me to come over and at first it was different
because she was buttering me up. She fed me cookies and showed me
old photo albums of Ron. As a child.
I knew this was a sort of persuade me to have kids type of
day and I just sort of nodded and smiled.
But one night was terrible for me.
I don't remember if I had a bad day at work or if I was just
feeling awful, but when I saw that Laura was waiting for me, I
just knew that something would happen.
I tried to hold it in and let her inside the house, listening
to her happy chatter about some friend of hers who had just
become a grandma. She looked at my house and told
me that I needed to start vacuuming more often because it
was getting too dusty, and I said that I would soon.
She started making sniffing noises and said that I needed to
do more cleaning too because the house smelled musty.
I stepped into the kitchen for some water and she followed.
There were honestly like two dishes in the sink that I hadn't
cleaned that morning because I was running a little late, and
Laura started clicking her tongue and shaking her head.
She said something like, dear, it's your responsibility to keep
the house in shape, I'm coming here more often, I need to train
you. And that was it.
I spit out the gulp of water that I had just taken and
coughed for a while before I could start speaking or really
shouting. But I did and I told her there
was no training me. I wasn't a dog, I wasn't a maid.
Two dishes and a little dust doesn't matter.
And her son didn't marry me to get live in help that he could
sleep with. I admit that I was very rude and
kind of hysterical and to be honest, I expected a little push
back. Laura should have gotten just as
crazy with me and I thought that she would scold me for raising
my voice and go into another 1950s rant, but she didn't.
I saw her face become completely stoic and her mouth was tightly
shut and her nostrils were flaring only a little.
Then she left the kitchen and got out of my house.
I would have followed and apologized, but I was too tired.
I was sure that I would see her later, obviously, and we could
just have that conversation. I considered that Ron probably
never spoke to her about our agreement.
Perhaps Laura would call him crying about the way that I
spoke to her. I look forward to that, to this
open communication, you know. But my husband got home, kissed
me, and we went about our night as normal as ever.
He was tired, but he helped me with the dishes, was
affectionate, and we went to bed on great terms.
All right, I thought Laura wanted to keep these things
between US and maybe that's why she had asked me not to tell Ron
about these wife worries. But the next morning I decided
to apologize when she came over and we could sit down and talk.
Laura didn't come and she didn't answer any of my calls.
I asked Ron if everything was all right with her and he said
that he talked to her and everything seemed fine.
I gave her a few days before I decided to go to her house.
My father-in-law answered the door and said Laura wasn't
feeling too well, so I left. And then I have to admit that I
didn't try harder. I got busier at work and with
the upcoming deadline for grad school, Ron and I were happy at
home, so Laura kind of just slipped into the back of my
mind. Also, my boss was supervising
everything I did more than usual for some reason.
Months passed and things were a little sad for me because none
of the schools that I had applied to accepted me and I was
pretty bummed out. Around that time Ron got busy at
work too. Life you know?
And before I knew it, it was now Thanksgiving and we were going
to Laura's house. She was hosting the extended
family and I hadn't seen most of them since the wedding.
And so to be nice and a little kiss ass, I cooked an apple pie
from the recipe book that Laura gave me.
I brought it in and she wrinkled her nose and said something
snarky like she didn't think that I wanted to be a maid and a
cook. I let it go because she
obviously was still angry at me. The issue later was that almost
everyone at the party avoided me.
At first, I thought that I was just imagining things, but
people stealthily left rooms whenever I was around.
A few conversations stopped when I stepped out of the kitchen
onto the back porch. Throughout the evening, Ron
didn't even notice, but I was getting more concerned.
After dinner, while everyone was still outside, I managed to
corner Laura in the kitchen. I apologized for yelling at her
and went through my list of excuses and justifications, and
I blame myself entirely. Just to get on her good side,
Laura put down a tray of empty drinking glasses on her kitchen
counter and turned to me. And she started thanking me for
the apology, but it was too late.
I had shown her that I wasn't good enough for her son, but she
was going to make sure that I changed that soon, she said.
I asked her what she was talking about.
Laura crossed her arms and insisted that I would be
arranging my attitude soon. Laura was never a scary person,
but the way she looked at me, she wasn't the woman who had
cried at seeing my wedding dress.
I held my ground, though. I said that I wasn't going to
change, and what's more, Ron loved me the way I was.
She smiled and chuckled all very condescendingly.
Laura said that he didn't love me fully right now because he
needed a real wife, just like his mother.
I had a chance to become that type of wife with her help, but
I had squandered it, which gave her no other choice but to
intervene. What?
Intervene how? And Laura came out with the
entire truth. She said that she had called all
my schools because my husband told her which ones I had
applied to and made sure to speak very badly about me.
She also found out my boss was married to her aunt's friend.
Called him too, she said soon I won't have school or work.
So you only will focus on Ron. That's your purpose.
And I really couldn't believe it.
Our thing happened months ago and never in my wildest dreams
would I have suspected anything like this.
I asked her why she was telling me because I could easily expose
her wrongdoings to the family. And she laughed at me again, the
sort of little huff sound, and asked who would believe me.
And I knew this was the reason people were avoiding me that
day. She had said something to turn
the family against me and they were only being polite for Ron's
sake. Except it was obviously more
than that. As she smugly started telling
me, Laura told everyone that I was alienating her from her son.
She told me that Ron barely visited her because I didn't
allow it, and that I wanted to make him have a vasectomy so we
would never have kids. It was insane.
It was diabolical, really, and nothing like the woman I had
known. I think Laura had been waiting
to tell me her plans. Like a villain in a movie who
details his entire plot right before killing the hero because
she just sighed happily after she was done.
It was insane though. I was barely breathing thinking
what would be her final blow and would I even survive all of
this? But I guess I did.
But Ron and I didn't. As soon as we got home, I just
broke down. I was sobbing and snot was
coming out of my nose in a disgusting display.
And after a while, I realized that Ron wasn't very comforting
to me. He had sat on our couch and
crossed his arms and he looked so much like Laura, and his next
words were an echo of what she said, and I didn't want to hear
it, but I did. Ron told me that I should have
listened to his mother, and he thought that I'd be a great
housewife just like her, and that it was my duty to become
what I was meant to be. And that meant that he had
wanted all of this, although he hadn't said a thing and had
supported me before. When he was done practically
scolding me, I asked why he had taken my side the times that I
had talked to him, and Ron thought that I would come around
to what really mattered. He said also he hoped that
getting me pregnant might help, but he shut up and just stood.
I don't think he meant to tell me that part though, but he did.
And I don't know precisely what he was doing about my birth
control, but I believed him capable of anything at this
point. Either way, I knew things at
that moment were over, but I had one final question for him.
Did you and Laura plan for all of this together?
And Ron didn't answer, but he got that same stoic look, just
like his mother's. I can't describe it very well,
but his silence just made me violent.
I lunged at him, slapped him as hard as I could.
Now I know I was wrong. I know I shouldn't have laid
hands on him, but I told him to get that look off of his face
immediately. I was repeating myself, but I
told him more like screamed at him in no uncertain terms that I
was not some perfect housewife to be bullied around.
And that's not what we had planned.
And out of nowhere, a slap came back at me.
Logically, I knew it was payback because I had done it first, but
the pain that radiated from my cheekbone all the way down to my
toes was nothing like I had ever felt before.
I wanted to fall back down on my butt and sob some more.
But the look of hatred in Ron's eyes stopped me in my place.
I wondered if he would hit me more, but he shook his head and
just left for the night. I don't know whether I had been
stupid not to leave earlier as soon as his mother started
acting weird, but I wasn't going to be an idiot any longer.
I came from a family full of strong women who would tell me
to walk away, but it was just so bittersweet.
The entire last year of my life, the dream wedding, honeymoon,
and family that I had started to make was over.
I packed my bags and was ready to go in less than an hour.
Ron returned as I was readying my car and I braced for
something, but we only stared at each other before he gave me a
parting shot saying you'll never find anyone like me.
And of course he was right. I found someone even better as
time went on. Ironically, I am a stay at home
mom, but I have a real partner who wants me to be a real parent
and husband once he gets off of work.
I did go to graduate Dell and I hope to get back to my career
once the kids are older. Oh, and I quit that job almost
immediately. And I am sad to report that I do
believe Ron and Laura found themselves a little Cinderella
to exploit. But to make a Long story short,
they're not my circus, not my monkeys anymore.
This story happened in the early 2000s at my grandparents place
in Ohio. It was early summer, July.
Every summer. My sister Emily and I spent two
weeks at our grandparents old farmhouse nestled deep in the
woods. It was a cherished tradition
filled with laughter, games, and the comforting scent of
grandma's homemade pies. The sprawling fields and dense
forest were our playground, a stark contrast to our suburban
life. This was where our fondest
childhood memories were made. The days were idyllic.
We'd help Grandpa tend to the cows, milking them in the early
morning mist and feeding the chickens as the sun rose.
Grandma's garden was a colorful patchwork of flowers and
vegetables, and we spent hours wedding watering and picking the
ripest produce for dinner. The evenings were spent around a
bonfire, roasting marshmallows and listening to grandpa's
stories about the old days. We would fall asleep to the
sound of crickets, feeling safe and loved.
But as we grew older, subtle oddities began to surface.
The first time we noticed something strange was during the
summer, when I was 14 and Emily was 10.
It started with sounds, soft rustling outside our room at
night. At first, we dismissed it as the
creaking of an old house or the natural sounds of the woods, but
as the nights wore on, the noises became impossible to
ignore. One evening, after an especially
joyful day spent playing hide and seek in the forest, Emily
and I lay in bed, whispering about the curious sounds.
Do you think it's just the house settling?
Emily asked, her voice trembling slightly.
I don't know. I replied, trying to sound
braver than I felt. Maybe it's just the wind.
But deep down, we both knew something wasn't right.
The next night, as the house grew quiet and the familiar
rustling began, we heard something new.
Hurried footsteps echoing through the halls.
At first, they seemed to stop outside our room, but soon they
travelled throughout the entire house.
We clung to each other, our hearts pounding.
The sound was too deliberate, too human to be the wind or
settling wood. One night, the footsteps grew
louder, sounding almost like someone was sprinting through
the house. Terrified but curious, Emily and
I decided to investigate. We crept out of our room, the
floorboards creaking under our weight.
As we move down the hallway, the sounds grew more intense,
echoing off the walls. Maybe we should ask Grandma and
Grandpa. Emily whispered, clutching my
arm. They'll know what's going on.
We hesitated outside our grandparents bedroom door, the
footsteps seeming to come from all around us.
Gathering my courage, I knocked softly.
There was no response. I turned the doorknob slowly,
pushing the door open a crack. Suddenly, a voice behind us made
us jump. What are you 2 doing up so late?
Grandpa's voice was gentle, but it startled us.
We spun around to see our grandparents standing behind us
in the dim hallway. Their faces were shadowed,
making their expressions hard to read.
We heard noises. I stammered.
It sounded like someone running through the house.
Grandma smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
You shouldn't worry about that. It's just the house settling.
You two should be asleep. They ushered us back to our
room, their presence both comforting and unsettling.
As they tucked us in. We tried to shake off the fear,
but the look in their eyes lingered in my mind.
The next morning, everything seemed normal again.
Our grandparents were their usual loving selves, but Emily
and I couldn't forget the events of the night before.
Determined to uncover the truth, we decided to stay up late again
and see if we could figure out what was causing the noises that
night. Emily and I crept into our
grandparents room while they were still in the garden.
We hid in their cupboard, leaving the door open just a
crack to peek out. We waited, hearts pounding in
our chests, as night fell and the house grew silent.
The footsteps started again, the sound of hurried, almost frantic
movements through the house. Then, with an unnerving
suddenness, our grandparents stood up from their bed and
sprinted out of the room. Their movements were so rapid
and unnatural that Emily and I could hardly believe our eyes.
We sat in the cupboard, barely daring to breathe.
After what felt like an eternity, they returned to the
room, their faces blank and expressionless.
They moved around the room with eerie speed.
And then, to our horror, Grandma stopped directly in front of the
cupboard. She bent down, peeking through
the small gap in the door, her eyes locking onto ours.
She began to laugh. It started as a low chuckle, but
soon grew louder, more manic, and it went on for hours.
Her eyes never left the small opening where we hid.
She didn't move, didn't blink, just laughed that terrible,
endless laugh. We were paralyzed with fear,
unable to move or make a sound. As dawn broke, Grandma suddenly
stopped laughing. She straightened up and walked
to the kitchen as if nothing had happened.
A few minutes later, we heard her calling us down for
breakfast. Kids, come on down.
Pancakes are ready. Emily and I stumbled out of the
cupboard, our legs numb from crouching all night.
We glanced at each other, fear etched into our faces.
How could she act so normal after what we had just
witnessed? The day after our chilling
encounter with Grandma's laughter, Emily and I were on
edge. The events of the previous night
played over and over in our minds.
Determined to find answers, we decided to search their room
while they were in the garden. We scoured every inch until
Emily found something strange, a slight draft coming from behind
the cupboard. We pushed it aside, revealing a
hidden door. Our hearts raced as we opened it
and saw a dark staircase leading down to an underground room.
That night, the house was eerily quiet.
The usual sounds of hurried footsteps and rustling were
absent. It was as if the house was
holding its breath. Emily and I crept out of our
room, drawn to the unsettling silence.
We tiptoed to our grandparents room, finding the cupboard moved
to the side and the secret door ajar.
We descended the narrow staircase, our steps slow and
deliberate. The air grew colder with each
step, and a faint, acrid smell filled our nostrils.
At the bottom, we found ourselves in a dimly lit room,
candles flickering on the walls, casting eerie shadows.
In the center of the room, our grandparents were performing a
grotesque ritual. They were making cuts on each
other's arms with rusty knives, then licking the blood off each
other's wounds. The sight was horrifying.
We stood frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what we
were seeing. Suddenly, our grandparents
stopped and turned their heads towards us, their eyes locking
onto ours. The shock and confusion on their
faces quickly shifted to an unsettling calmness.
I quickly closed the door and locked it with a rusty key
hanging on the wall. Kids.
Grandpa said in a voice that sent chills down my spine.
It's just us, your grandparents. You should be asleep.
Run. I whispered to Emily and we
sprinted up the stairs and through the house.
We could hear rapid footsteps behind us, but we didn't dare
look back. We burst out of the front door
and kept running until we reached the edge of the
property. When we finally turned around,
we saw our grandparents standing in the doorway, waving their
hands in a grotesque parody of a cheerful goodbye.
We didn't stop running until we reached the nearest bus stop.
Emily was in tears, and I did my best to comfort her.
It's going to be OK, I whispered, even though I wasn't
sure I believed it myself. When the bus finally arrived, I
let her fall asleep in my arms while I stayed awake watching
the road, my mind racing with unanswered questions. 20 years
have passed since that terrifying summer.
Emily, who was only 10 at the time, has struggled with trauma
ever since. She refuses to speak about it
and avoids any contact with our grandparents.
As for me, I meet them occasionally, but only in broad
daylight and never at their house.
The fear and confusion from that night still linger, and I often
wonder what dark secrets our grandparents were hiding.
Sometimes I lie awake at night, replaying the events in my mind,
trying to make sense of it all. But no matter how much time
passes, one thing remains clear. That summer changed everything.
The memory of that sinister ritual will forever haunt our
dreams. If your local, I'm sure you've
noticed the old yellow gas station has been closed for a
long while. They say it was because of low
revenue and vandalism, but that's a lie.
I was there the last night it was open.
I know what happened. I know why the doors are chained
shut. If you have driven the Mountain
Loop highway, then without a doubt you've seen the rundown
little station on the corner of 20 and 530.
And if you stopped by on a weekday between 5:00 and
midnight, you would have been served by either myself or Iris.
I was 16 at the time, technically I couldn't work the
hours that I was, but the owners were pretty relaxed when it came
to certain things. Iris was two years older and in
my teenage opinion, simply beautiful.
She stood equal to my 5 foot eight, had long dark brown hair
that she kept in a ponytail while working, and the most
mesmerizing blue eyes imaginable.
It was the winter season, the Passover.
The mountain was closed due to snow.
This meant we went from being nearly overrun by customers to
seeing one or two people an hour.
The later hours were even slower.
Sometimes we would go the entire shift, only getting a single
customer. During these times, I would
wander around bored out of my mind or watch movies that I had
downloaded at home. There was no cell service or
Wi-Fi, so scrolling social media wasn't an option.
Iris preferred to lean back in her chair behind the register
and read books. I would try and make
conversation occasionally, but it would always die quickly.
The night of the incident was like all the rest.
The sun had set depressingly early.
We hadn't seen a soul in hours. I pulled my phone out of my
pocket out of habit. Realizing there still wasn't any
service, I put it away. What time is it?
I nearly jumped at the sound of her voice.
What? I asked in confusion.
She took her feet off the register and placed her book on
it instead. Raising an eyebrow, she
repeated. What time is it?
Oh, it's. I had to pull my phone out
again. It's 945.
She sighed. We still got another two hours
until closing. I just nodded dumbly.
An awkward silence hung in the air for a minute.
Iris picked up her book and continued reading.
Feeling the moment slipping away.
I blurted out. Hey, you want to do something
like what? She asked without looking up
from her book. I don't know, something to help
pass the time? As in?
I just shrugged. She sighed and put her book
down. Listen, Clyde, we're paid to
keep an eye on things and help people buy stuff, not to goof
off or socialize. Her rebuke stung a bit and it
must have shown somewhat because she quickly followed with.
Tell you what, go take the trash out and I'll check once again.
If the bathrooms are clean, then we can inventory the beer cave
together. I hated taking out the trash,
but if it meant we could do something together afterwards,
it was worth it. Carrying the large black bag
over my shoulder, I used my free hand to fumble with the bolt on
the rear door. The doorknob never properly
latched, so the owners had installed a large gate style
locking bolt. It usually required two hands,
one to pull the door closer and the other to rotate, then slide
the bolt back. Finally, working it free, I
pushed the heavy metal door open.
In front of me stretched a gravel driveway that led to the
highway. At the end of the driveway was a
worn green dumpster. Iris hated taking the trash out
for the same reason I did at night.
There was a single light above the door.
The rest of the walk was in near blackness.
One night I had stupidly bragged about how I didn't mind taking
the trash out, how I kind of like the fresh air.
From then on, Iris had let me take it out every night.
Willing myself forward, I walked out into the all absorbing
darkness. I felt eyes on me.
Despite knowing it was just my imagination, I couldn't hold
back a shiver. I lifted the dumpster lid and
swung the bag inside. The lid slammed shut, echoing
through the night. I almost didn't notice the
rustling bushes just off the path.
I froze. The sound grew closer.
I nearly screamed as a figure stood from the BlackBerry
bushes, leaves and twigs sticking out of their hair and
clothes. They took a step closer.
I let out the breath I was holding.
I knew that face. Geez Iris, you nearly scared me
to death, why are you in the bushes?
She stared at me without blinking, her eyes were
completely void of emotion. She slowly opened her mouth to
death. She whispered in a voice that
was not her own. Instinctively, I took a step
back. She matched it with a step
forward. Iris.
She took another step closer. Irese.
She whispered despite her mouth being open too wide to be
whispering anything. Fear course through my veins.
Her enunciation was wrong, but even worse, it wasn't her voice,
it was mine. My legs were beginning to shake.
There was something wrong with her.
Not only was it the way she sounded that freaked me out, but
she looked incorrect. The color of her hair and skin
was just a little off. Her dimensions weren't quite
right. It hadn't been enough to notice
at first, but the more I looked, the more off she felt.
She spoke again, drawing closer with each word.
Iris to death Iris. Why to death iris?
The words were flat and emotionless.
Each time she spoke, she sounded more and more like me.
A car happened to drive down the highway, her right eye jerk to
the side, watching it pass as her left stayed focused on me.
I snapped. I turned tail and sprinted for
the building, bursting through the back door.
I slammed it shut behind myself and barred it.
I slid to the floor with my back planted firmly against the door.
I waited for something to happen, but the only sound was
my ragged breath. Regaining my composure, I
started to doubt what I had just seen.
I don't know how she did it, but Iris had pulled one hell of a
prank. I started to get pissed off.
She had made a total fool of me. I could just imagine her out
there doubled over in laughter. She probably even had a camera
set up. I stood up, ready to throw open
the door and give her a piece of my mind when I heard her in the
main room. About time you finished what
we're doing out there. This whole time?
She asked confused. I stood up, she couldn't see me
in the backroom, how did she know I was back inside?
She spoke again. Are you going to come in or just
stand outside? It was then that I heard my
voice come from the room she was in.
Iris, stand outside. Iris, are you OK Clyde?
She asked with obvious concern. I heard her walk towards the
front door, the voice that sounded like me encouraged her.
Come outside Iris. The inflection was still wrong,
but it sounded so much like me. Realizing what was happening, I
ran out of the backroom. Iris, wait.
I yelled. She jumped in surprise, spinning
around. She looked at me in confusion,
then back to the empty front door.
How did you? She trailed off.
There's something outside. I don't know what it is, but
there's something out there. She looked quite annoyed with
me. Clyde, work isn't the place for
pranks. You got me.
Now stop goofing off before we get in trouble.
I glared right back. Listen, Iris, I'm not doing
anything, and unless you were crawling around in the bushes a
few minutes ago, there's someone out there messing with both of
us. She didn't look entirely
convinced, but apologized anyways.
Sorry, I just assumed, since it sounded and looked like you,
that you were behind it. You saw it?
I asked. Yeah, well, you know, as best as
I could. These windows are so old they
distort everything. We agreed to hang out together.
So long as we could see each other, nobody could pull any
more pranks. I was actually starting to enjoy
the evening for the first time. Iris and I were having actual
conversations. Eileen.
She was paying her way through Community College and was an
only child. I told her about myself and my
plans for after I graduated. We talked about dream vacations
and what plans we had for next summer.
It wasn't long before we had both forgotten about the night's
previous incidents. Iris stood.
I got to use the bathroom. I'll be right back.
While she was gone, I went over to the soft drink fountain and
filled up a cup. Iris walked behind the register.
Picking up her book, she began to read.
You want something? I asked, holding up my cup.
Before she could reply, something metallic clattered in
the backroom. Iris jumped to her feet.
We both looked at the door marked employees only with
apprehension. Stay here.
She commanded. Before I could protest, Iris ran
through the door into the dark room.
A panicked cry came from the dark Clyde.
Just as I was about to rush through the doorway, a toilet
flushed. I froze.
Behind me, the bathroom door opened and Iris walked out.
I felt sick. In the darkness of the backroom,
I could make out a figure standing just a few feet away.
Iris noticed something was up. What's wrong, Clyde?
I didn't take my eyes off the figure in front of me.
There's someone in the backroom. She ran up to me.
What? She demanded.
Who? Looking through the doorway, she
gasped. You better leave, we're calling
the cops. She yelled.
The figure stepped farther into the dark, disappearing from
sight to death. Iris.
Came my voice followed by Iris's voice.
Come here Clyde. There was a pounding of
footsteps as the figure charged us.
I slammed the door shut just in time.
An inhuman scream rang out as the creature slammed into the
door. Iris and I held it closed as the
door was assaulted over and over again.
We didn't relax until we heard the back door slam shut.
What the hell was that? Iris asked.
I didn't know what to say, this was too much.
Iris jumped to her feet. I'm calling the police.
I don't care who or what is out there, it just tried to attack
us. I nodded.
Yeah, that's a good idea. Iris went to the pay phone
behind the counter. She punched in 911, then held
the phone to her ear. She hung up and tried again.
Damn it. She muttered, trying a third
time without luck. She slammed the phone back into
the receiver, clenching her fists.
Iris groaned in frustration. The phone's dead, Clyde.
I felt a knot form in my stomach.
This wasn't uncommon, the phone was just as often broken as it
was working, but it was really bad timing.
Now what? I asked stupidly.
Iris threw her hands up. How should I know, Clyde, this
isn't exactly in the employee handbook.
She slumped down in defeat. Hey Iris.
Yes, Clyde, we don't have an employee handbook.
A small smirk played across her lips.
I know we don't, smart ass. With the mood successfully
lifted, we went back to our original plan.
We would stick together until sunrise, then we would drive to
town and report what happened. That was until a tattered soft
top fox body Mustang pulled up to the pump.
Oh crap. Muttered Iris.
We both cautiously peeked out the window.
Do you think they're part of the prank?
I asked Iris bitter lip nervously.
I don't know, I'm not even sure it is a prank.
An old man slowly climbed out of the car.
He was balding and wore thin rimmed glasses.
He reminded me of a short, portly teacher I had in middle
school. The man fumble with his wallet,
completely unaware of us. After swiping his card, the man
stiffened. He looked over his shoulder at
something we couldn't see. Iris's doppelganger came
striding into the light behind me.
The real Iris let out a soft gasp.
I was frozen in place. I stood there as that thing
approached the man. Suddenly, the doppelganger
jumped impossibly high and landed on the man's shoulders.
He collapsed to the ground under its weight.
Iris rushed from behind me to the automatic doors.
Her movement snapped me out of my days and I chased after her.
With the opening of the doors we could hear the man yelling out
in pain. The doppelganger had long black
fingernails that it was using to try and gouge out the man's
eyes. Before we had even made it out
the door, the 2nd doppelganger rushed from the dark.
It still looked like me, but more battered and dirty.
It held a large rock above its head as it ran towards the man.
Raising the rock higher, it brought it down on the man's
skull. Iris turned and blocked my view,
but I still heard the crunch. It sounded like a watermelon
landing on a sidewalk from a great height.
Iris shoved me back inside. Once the doors closed, she
locked them. I chanced to peek outside.
The car stood abandoned in the yellow light.
All that remained of its owner was a thick red puddle leading
into the dark surrounding bushes.
Iris looked at me with tear filled eyes.
Clyde, I don't know if we're getting out of here.
I didn't know what to say, we just watched someone die.
My thoughts were a mess. I hugged her.
We stood there holding each other, scared to death.
Iris angrily wiped her tears. Come on Clyde, we need to lock
this place down. We pulled down the security gate
and locked it in place, hopefully sealing off the front
door. Not that it would do much good
if something really wanted to get in.
The windows on either side of the door were plenty big enough
for someone to crawl through. The back door was locked, but
for good measure we pushed the baked goods display in front of
it. We both froze at the sounds of
footsteps above us. Iris covered her mouth to hold
in a gasp. They're on the roof.
She whisper shouted. We both looked to access hatch
that led to the roof. It was locked, but how sturdy
was it? My heart lurched and a scream
slipped out of me. At the front window was my face,
blackened and grinning with its eyes open far too wide.
No, it wasn't black. From the nose down, the face was
stained with blood. It had been feasting.
Iris jumped when I screamed. Seeing the face, she turned me
and pulled me into a hug. Wrapping her arms around my
head, she pulled it against her chest, blocking out my view of
the thing outside. Just don't look at it, she
whispered. Don't acknowledge its existence.
That didn't last. The creature wearing my image
started tapping the glass, at first lightly, but with each tap
the force increased. Soon the old glass pane was
flexing under the force. I looked up at Iris.
I saw in her eyes that she knew as well as I that the glass
wouldn't hold. The second creature dropped from
above to join the 1st. Cracks began to appear.
I was frozen in place, but Iris sprang into action.
She managed to move the display blocking the rear exit all by
herself. The window shattered.
The creatures stood there, seemingly surprised by the
sudden destruction. Iris came from the supply
closet. In her hand was the broom we
used to sweep the floors. At the end of the shift, she
snapped the head off, leaving a sharp point.
Iris had a look to her. It was as if time itself slowed
in respect. She took my numb hand and put
her car keys in it. She shoved me towards the back
door. I stumbled into the back room.
I looked over my shoulder to see her charging across the store,
improvised spear held out in front of her.
The creatures were coming through the window, their faces
twisted with hatred and hunger in their eyes.
I made it out the back door. I made it to her car.
I made it home that night. As soon as I had service, I
called 911. I bawled my eyes out as I tried
to tell the operator what happened.
They heard enough. Someone had died at the gas
station and someone else was in danger.
The next morning the police came to my door.
They cuffed me and drugged me out of the house.
I spent hours getting brutally interrogated.
Finally I was able to go. From what I picked up.
The officers arrived to the scene.
The body of the Mustang owner was mostly consumed and laying
next to the store. Inside there was bloodied hand
and footprints everywhere. Iris was nowhere to be found.
If it wasn't for the fact that there was no DNA evidence
pointing towards me, I would probably have taken the blame.
We moved within a week despite the charges being dropped.
Within a 48 hours the court of public opinion had determined I
was guilty of murder and probably worse when it came to
Iris. It's been 7 years now since they
closed that station. I drove past it yesterday.
I had to take that route for my job.
The windows are boarded up and the Blackberries have taken over
half the building, but it didn't feel empty as I drove past.
Thank you Iris, you were braver than I could ever hope to be.
I hope you can see what I did with my life and are proud.
I miss you. I'll be taking the long way
home. The extra 4 hours of driving is
worth not having to go past that station again.