Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25039222-20140609000114

Hi. My name is Joe. It’s a pretty typical name, and I’m a pretty typical guy, or so I think. I have just recently graduated from college with a BA in Political Science. Unfortunately, with a 1.22 GPA and a criminal history, I was only able to get a job in my field as a political advisor for a small town mayor in Smith, New Mexico. Now, when I say small town, I mean it. Smith only has 95 people in the town. Now, the town itself is a very typical railroad town. You have a highway for Main Street, a granary next to the tracks, and many of the homes in the town lay on the north side. A small cemetery lay on the south side of the town, just across the tracks. The granary is easily the largest building in the town, dwarfing the few buildings surrounding it. Everything about the granary is just…worn. The elevator has become rusty through the years of inactivity and poor maintenance. Weeds and shrubs surrounded it on three of its pale yellow sides, with the fourth bordered by train tracks. Some paint is flaking off, and the town name that was originally on the east side now just read “ith”. When I first got here, I rented out a house from one of the local residents at a relatively inexpensive rate. The place is need of minor repair, but was otherwise a very good home for me. Most of my neighbors seem like good people, but there is one old lady that creeps me out. I only see her in the evening when I drive home from work. She sits on her front porch and just stares at me with her old, raisin like eyes and catcher’s mitt for a face, like I’m not supposed to be here. She is very small, and apparently walks with a cane. Anyways, my dryer is done and I need to get some rest. I’ll write more later on. Hi, all. My job is going great, minus a few duties and details. Because of my work, I actually had to talk to the old lady. I knew she was creepy, but talking to her freaked me the fuck out. You see, I was going door-to-door to ask about some pressing town issues with the townspeople. Since most people work during the day, I had to complete this task in the evening. It was getting late and I was finishing up when I had to go to her house. Oddly enough, she wasn’t on her porch when I showed up in her neighborhood, and it remained like that until…she just appeared. I just left the house across the street from hers as I noticed that my shoe was untied. Facing her house, I bent down to tie my shoe. She was not in her chair. As I rose, I saw her in her chair staring at me. I crossed the street and had just opened her gate to approach her when she muttered something. As the last syllable left her mouth, the stairs on her porch seemingly disassembled themselves just before I got to them. Unnerved, I simply stepped up on the porch and introduced myself. In a sour tone, she introduced herself as Almudena Morales, owner of the cemetery. I thought it ironic that an old, sickly lady owned the graveyard but I pressed on. I started with my go-to lead off question, “What do you think of our Mr. Sanchez, our Mayor?” Her eyes grew large with anger and she responded in a Native American language I did not know. I asked her to repeat what she said in English, but she did not. She sat in silence as I asked her questions about the local politics. Eventually, I gave up. As I left her property, she shouted “This jefe will meet his ruin!” When I got back to the office, I found Mayor Sanchez in the hallway, awaiting my return. Mayor Andy Sanchez was an older, plump gentleman. He asked about certain people, one of whom was Almudena Morales. I told him “She does not agree with your policies, nor the direction the town is headed in.” When he heard that, his face went white and he hurriedly left the building, presumably to get home. When I came into work the next day, he wasn’t there. I thought nothing of it because Mayor Sanchez often left unannounced to see family in various towns and cities across the Southwest. I went on with my normal duties, and left early for the day. On my way home, I stopped by the Mayor’s house to drop off some papers. Almost everything looked normal from the outside…the windows were shut, AstroTurf lawn in place, and two car garage door was shut. The attic window, curiously enough, lay wide open, flailing in the wind. As I approached the house, the attic window slammed shut as if to close forever. Upon entering the house, I saw papers strewn across the floor, furniture torn and displaced and an odd smell, one that I never smelt before or since. As I went through the house, I sensed everything was wrong. I immediately went to check the upstairs bedrooms for the Mayor, his wife, or his teenage daughters. When I got upstairs, I found writing in blood on the walls. The only legible word was bruja, or witch in Spanish. I reached for my cell phone to call the police, but my phone did not have any signal in a place where I always had full bars. My next best hope was to try their landline. I went back downstairs to find a phone. When I tried to call out, I couldn’t get a dial tone. I knew something evil happened here, but I was curious to find out what happened to my boss and his family. I went back upstairs and tried every door, but only one opened. There, on the wooden floor bodies of the Mayor and his family. Each of them had a smile on their face, as if death was the sweetest thing in life. One daughter had her tongue ripped out through her throat and her breasts removed. The Mayor and his wife were both decapitated. A wooden broom handle skewered the missus, and her head lie in her husband’s crotch. The Mayor himself lie cut into five pieces, one limb in every corner while his body lie in the center, head on the chest, looking at me with that demented smile. His eldest daughter lay in a knot, both feet at the opposite ear, bones protruding from her legs. Both of her arms were wrapped around her back, then through a hole in her stomach, slightly protruding from her body as if she tried to crawl through herself. I took two steps inside to close the blinds when I heard a crack of thunder. I looked out the window and saw Almudena Morales in the front lawn. She looked directly at me and began laughing the most wretched laugh I have ever heard! Then she snapped her fingers and disappeared. I ran outside to my car and sped home. I entered my house and called the police, informing them of what I found. I sat down in my living room, cracked a beer, and waited for the cops to come for more paperwork. I told them what, and who, I saw. One officer asked if I was sure I saw Mrs. Morales. I answered affirmatively, and then learned, to my horror; Mrs. Morales had been dead for twenty years! It’s been three days since my last update. I haven’t brought myself to leave the house for any reason whatsoever. My neighbors occasionally knock on the door, but I never answer. I have called in sick to work. Mrs. Morales, the witch, is nowhere to be seen. I fear she may never be found. Update. I saw her. Last night. She was in my room. The witch was in my Fucking BEDROOM! I awoke at three to her form standing over my bed. She had that same smile of ecstasy that I saw on the Mayor’s face. Then, just like that, she disappeared. I quickly grabbed my phone and my pistol and began hunting for the woman throughout my house, but I could not locate the ghost of a person. Then, as I went back to my room, I found her. She smiled at me, fang like teeth gleaming in the moonlight. I leveled my pistol on her forehead. I squeezed the trigger. Click. Nothing happened. She disappeared again, and my pistol fired, sending a round into a door. Again, I search for the witch, but only find bruja written in blood on my walls. Nothing happens for the rest of the night. Update. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen her. I haven’t slept in a week. I quit my job only after I looked Almunda Morales up in the county records. Her story was a very regular story until she turned 14. On her birthday, she disappeared, only to reappear suddenly two years later. The townspeople speak of her vanishing only in whispers because of an old legend. As the story goes, a brujo, or Warlock, named Jose, kidnapped a young girl, Maria, on her 14th birthday and trained her in the dark arts. The training lasted for two years, and then Maria was returned to her home. She sharpened her skills in private, not allowing anyone to know. One day, her father confronted Maria in the town square about her practices. Maria knew his intentions, and with one murderous smirk, crushed him without lifting a finger. Her father bore a sickly grin as he lie dead by his only daughter’s hand. The townspeople saw this, and Maria burned. Before they set her ablaze, Maria giggled and shouted “I will always be with you!” Mrs. Morales is Maria. Final update. I write this with deep regret. Maria, Mrs. Morales, whoever the fuck she is, found me. You see, I ran from the town. I ran as fast as I could. But she found me. She..will always be with me. I die tonight, by her hand or mine it does not matter, for I will rid myself of this curse forever. Final Final update. My pistol misfired, and I cannot bring myself to try again. Maria is near. I will face her like a man, like I should have done many weeks before. At least I know I will go out with a smile on my face. 