Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-36772767-20180831051828/@comment-9041013-20180901163100

Ocpunk 714 wrote: Finished this draft last night...Sorry again for not posting a whole thought out piece at first.

10/31/18

Dear diary,

''I messed up really bad. These could be the very last words I write to you. They are coming to get me. I know it. Who’s going to take care of my mom? We shouldn’t have done what we did! We shouldn’t have done what we did!''

Jo

Christmas Eve 2018

I sat among the sea of people in collective awe and silence to the message being delivered by our pastor. Every face wears a mask. They wish to hide disdain, anger, hatred and pain. Something had gone amiss though. One figure we all love is not with us. It’s been speculated that she has fallen ill or into grave misfortune. JoBeth is not the sort of person who randomly vanishes without being in contact with family, friends and church elders. She is after all, the accountant of our house of worship. Her work is vitally important to keeping the finances in order as well as morale among the humble congregation. There have been murmurs and whispering of mistrust though. The rumor mill is always hard at work before any factual evidence comes into play. Some say she has been embezzling money to fund a rather large gambling habit. Other wives got their feathers ruffled when their husbands paid a little more attention to Jo. She is a very attractive and young, single woman.

Christmas day brought more than presents to our small town this year. Instead of cheerful tinsel laced with glowing lights. Sirens fill the air and yellow tape carefully wrapped around an area of rural land. There is something dark up ahead. Some disturbing figure. Here lies JoBeth Williams. Her face is staring into an infinite state of nothing. Another striking feature of this heinous act is the removal of the victim’s hands. Due to lack of blood evidence, detectives were definitely not standing at the scene of a crime. For everyone else, it was a typical Saturday. Kids rode their new bikes or scooters up and down the main drag. Wives and mothers work away in the kitchen, fattening up their families for the upcoming winter season. Sunday, our pastor gave a very passionate sermon, one which implored our Great Savior to heal us in this time of grief. To forgive the sins of those who trespass against us. Little did we know that it would be one of our own?

Time moved on a bit, but then an interesting development happened. A well known, homeless man who camps in a van down by the river, came forward with a dirty old satchel and story about two people with the bag. He said they seemed to be arguing, tossed it and took off. Thinking it could be something good, the curious man went to recover his would be loot of the day, only to discover the gruesome truth inside. It was assumed and later discovered that these were indeed the hands of JoBeth Tiffany Williams. State detectives questioned and let the vagrant man who found JoBeth’s hands go. He was never any harm. A well liked fellow in the community. His happenstance discovery did raise questions about how many people could be involved in this.

So far, Jo is connected to mysterious individuals who carelessly disposed of evidence. Were they arguing because they were in a hurry? None of it made any sense. When everything came to a standstill finally and there was nowhere to go in the case, a young man wandered into the county police station. He’s disheveled, slightly unwashed. This is a face no one recognizes. He ignored the desk clerk and made his way into the police chief’s office. “Can I help you?” the Chief asked him. He barely looked up from his work. “JoBeth Williams” said the young man. It became so quite in that building, you could’ve heard the sound of ghosts whispering in walls. “I removed her hands as atonement for sins against our Great Savior. She was a thief and a liar.” Before the chief of police could even get a word in, the suspect asked for an attorney and buckled up for possibly his last ride as a civilian through free society.

Local patrol officers searched for the witness to see if he could possibly identify the teen as one of the suspects, but just as JoBeth did, he also mysteriously vanished. When the suspected killer came to court, he was kempt and clean shaven. Dressed nothing like the filthy cad who confessed to this crime. He kept himself respectable and his lawyer got the confession thrown out. Timothy Paul King III had been shipped off to boarding school abroad at an early age. Until this very day, nobody ever laid eyes on the heir of our Great Savior’s Kingdom. His father is the senior pastor of the biggest church in town. The family claimed Timmy was a problem child with psychiatric illness. That he remains in a practically sedated state at all times on medication. The judge felt there was no evidence in the case to warrant any further attention.

He was embraced by the local community as a troubled teen in dire need after his alleged confession. Meanwhile, it was as if JoBeth had never existed. Something different was in the atmosphere, People grew cold, distant. You didn’t even tell secrets to your closest relatives for fear of being exposed as a heathen. The public school system has been abolished, so we all properly learn how to worship our Great Savior. Questions have been raised in CPS cases by fringe outsiders who all eventually are reluctant to speak with investigators further involving their claims. Often times it comes back to haunt them and their own children have been removed. Many families have been forced to seek refuge in the church in order to help them reunite.

''911 Operator: Attention all emergency personnel!!! Shots fired on North Block and 7th street. OFFICER DOWN!!! I repeat OFFICER DOWN. Suspect is a white female. She was seen acting belligerent and erratic. At least 10 people are reported critically wounded or deceased on arrival. ''

When the smoke finally cleared, a total of 20 people were killed including the armed assailant from a self-inflicted gunshot to her temple. It took several weeks to identify her as local home school teacher Ann Walters. All the murder victims were students under her guidance and care. Their ages ranged from 2 to 14. Police raided her home, which was the most immaculate place any of them have ever seen. This woman was so tightly wound, the plastic on the furniture had its own plastic cover. One detective however had a keen eye and sensed something in the basement. Shifting some boxes around led to an old wash sink that hadn’t been used in ages. A few good tugs revealed what could only be described as the distinct smell of rotting flesh. Chains which hung from the ceiling were rusted and worn. The detective’s peripheral vision caught sight of something. In the corner, on a soiled mattress was a video cassette. It’s labeled, “CHURCH PICNIC”.

Back at the station, detectives ready themselves to watch the tape after hours of grueling work. What they saw was the last thing anyone expected. A young woman appears on screen crying and chained to the very ceiling they were standing under. Next to her is Ann Walters accompanied by two masked individuals. She kept screaming at the young woman. Supposedly kind, soft spoken teacher turned raving lunatic. One of the individuals stepped forward and revealed himself as Mr. Walters.

“DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU WOULD ESCAPE US JO?!”

“HE’S MY HUSBAND!”

“A SIN AGAINST ONE OF US IS A SIN AGAINST ALL OF US!”

With that final declaration, Ann swung her arms like a vicious pendulum until JoBeth’s left hand came off. She screamed, shrieked and howled as if she were an animal stuck in a bear trap. One veteran detective actually puked all over the office floor. Poor cleaning lady is going to have one hell of a time with that meatball sub. Mr. Walters was never seen or heard from again. The plot intensifies, I do like how this shaping out to be.

However, my main concern is a tad with how this is cartoonish in a sense, it feels as if you don't have quite a real life image in your head for this one. Look at various crime dramas and go on with this kind of imagery, in the details at least. Try to make it seem more lifelike.

Im guessing this is not the end of the story, so you keep on writing that.

How hard does one have to swing to tear another human's arm? well... probably harder than the average Jane can, so please fix the details.