Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25980873-20160106060028

I have something that I need to share with someone, anyone. I have a story that I have kept hidden deep in the darkest recesses of my mind, a memory that I have attempted to repress for twenty-two years. Today, August 18th, 2015, is the twenty-second anniversary of an event that destroyed my life and the lives of my family. I nearly lost my own life in the process. I need to recount this tale, if for no other reason than for closure. Perhaps sharing this grisly tale with an audience that doesn’t include my parents or the police will alleviate some of the pain I have lived with for so long. Maybe someone out there can better explain what happened. This reason, coupled with some recent discoveries has led me to write this story.



My name is Cyrus Lynch. I was born and raised in Leon Forks, a small town situated in rural Western New York. For the first six years of my life it was just my parents and I. Then one day, my mother announced she was expecting a second child. I had some mixed feelings on the matter. On one hand, a lot of my school friends had siblings. They didn’t always get along, but they seemed content with the arrangement. So I had always wondered what it would be like to have a little brother or sister. On the other hand, I was the center of my parents’ universe, so I was rather reluctant to share the spotlight with a sibling. All too soon, the new baby arrived. My parents had come to pick me up at my grandparents’ house two days after the delivery. Dad took me into the living room and sat me on the sofa. “I have someone here I would like you to meet,” he said softly. He transferred the bundle he had been holding into my arms. “This is your new sister, Marjorie.”



All my doubts and concerns about having a new sibling vanished in that moment.



Marjorie was no larger than a loaf of bread. In most respects, she was no more remarkable than any other child her age, except her eyes. They were a vivid green, like tiny gemstones. A little tuft of auburn hair sat atop her otherwise bald head, and her little lips were parted slightly as she stared up at me with vague curiosity. Then she cooed, snuggled against me, and closed here eyes and went to sleep. I was in love. Mom came in and sat next to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Well, what do you think?” she asked. I looked up into her eyes, the same eyes the child in my arms possessed.



“She’s perfect,” I murmured. My parents chuckled.



“That she is, kiddo,” said Dad. My parents gazed lovingly upon us as I leaned down and kissed Marjorie.



Several years passed. Our family lived in happiness. Marjorie was everything to me: sweet, loving, obnoxious, silly, all of it. Having a sister was everything I’d hoped it would be. She was my best friend. I loved looking after that girl. I was always into music and movies. I used to show her all of my favorites, like Terminator, Star Wars, The Godfather, you name it. I got her into all my favorite bands, like Pixies, Ramones, The Beatles, Soundgarden, and Smashing Pumpkins. We would spend hours talking about this stuff. Marjorie and I were practically twins, despite the fact there was seven years between us. Not a moment goes by that I don’t long for those days…



Which brings us to August 18th, 1993. I had been attending college at Painted Post University in Upstate New York, majoring in audio engineering. I was twenty-two years old, and in my last year of school. I was set to graduate the following May. I would travel home every other weekend, and would spend holidays and summers there as well. I was set to return to Painted Post on the 19th, as the semester was starting the 20th. With all of my stuff packed, I decided to spend my last evening home with Marjorie, who was fifteen at the time. We decided to ride our bicycles on the Clinton Hauser bike path. It was a beautiful August evening, one of the most beautiful of the year.



<p class="MsoNormal">So we rode. It is strange how I can recall everything we talked about that evening. We discussed Nirvana’s upcoming album, In Utero, and were trying to guess how successful it would be compared to ''Nevermind. ''Marjorie was not as optimistic as I was, she could be so hard to please when it came to certain bands. This conversation went on for a good span of the trail. Then we discussed the trailer for Fox’s upcoming show, the X-Files. “It looks so creepy,” Marjorie squealed.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“I think it looks awesome,” I said. “I’ve never seen a show like it on network TV before, should be cool,” I said.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s about aliens, and monsters and gory shit. No thanks,” she shuddered. I turned to look at her.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“You’re a fucking marshmallow,” I chided. “It isn’t all about monsters; I read in a magazine that it deals with conspiracies and cover-ups by the government.” Marjorie pulled a face.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Still,” she mumbled.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Look, when I come home on that weekend, we’ll watch it together, deal? I’ll make sure the ghosts and goblins don’t get my widdle sitter,” I snickered.

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<p class="MsoNormal">Marjorie rolled her eyes. “Shut up,” she mumbled, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“You do know none of that shit’s real? Aliens and stuff,” I said.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“I know, but still, that crap’s freaky,” Marjorie said.

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<p class="MsoNormal">We rode on in silence for a while. Monsters and horror wasn’t Marjorie’s cup of tea, despite all the science fiction her and I watched. She was just weird that way, I guess. I chuckled to myself. That was my Marjorie. There was no better way to spend my last day home than with her, talking about nothing important, just goofing off and enjoying the evening.

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<p class="MsoNormal">After a time, I decided to switch the subject to something that pertained to reality rather than media.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“So…sophomore year of high school. You excited?” I asked. Marjorie’s face brightened.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh yes! I hope it’s better than last year, at any rate,” she said. Her freshman year was rough. Marjorie was bullied a bit, mostly because she was a bookworm and was quiet and sweet. Funny how a teenager’s mind works; the sweet and innocent are always the first to get bullied. But once the cheerleaders got tired of picking on her, she actually ended up enjoying the remainder of the school year. This year, she joined the Varsity Girl’s Soccer team. She was always good at soccer, and being on the team had helped bolster her self-confidence.

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<p class="MsoNormal">We had reached the densest, most heavily wooded part of the bike trail. The sun was beginning to go down, and the trail was darkening in the twilight. The effect was simply beautiful. Marjorie and I stopped for a moment, standing with our bike seats between our legs. We paused to sip water from the bottles we had hooked to the bikes. As I lowered my bottle, I felt a chill run down my spine. In that instant, I knew we weren’t alone. I whipped my head around so fast that I cricked my neck. There was nothing behind us. Rubbing my neck and cursing under my breath, I turned to my sister. “Everything all right?” she asked.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Yeah…yeah, fine. Listen, we should probably head on home soon. It’s getting dark, and we didn’t bring flashlights. We’ll ride up a little ways, then turn back, ‘kay?” I said. Marjorie nodded. We resumed our pedaling. We rode past the West Forks Campground, where various camps and summer programs rented barracks. It was empty until the 21st, when a boy scout troop would be staying there, then after that the owners would use it until winter. A small path to our right led down to the camp. We rode a ways past that. We stopped suddenly at the site of an obstruction directly ahead of us. In the gathering gloom, I could just make out three masses lying across the path. I dismounted my bike, and cautiously approached the obstruction. Marjorie made to follow, but I stalled her with a raised hand. “Let me take a look first, honey,” I said.

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<p class="MsoNormal">The masses turned out to be deer, three does and a fawn. The fawn had been torn in half; her rear half was missing. The doe on my left had been eviscerated, her intestines lying across her mangled body. I stood there, dumbfounded. Steeling myself, I bent down to feel the doe on my right, who had no marks upon her body, but the head was facing backwards. Whatever had attacked them had broken her neck. Upon touching her, I noticed she was still warm. My breath caught in my throat. This lot had not been dead long. The attack could have been happening while Marjorie and I farther down the trail.

<p class="MsoNormal">My first thought was that it was a bear. But surely a bear wouldn’t have left its pray lying around, especially not because of us. Then I remembered the chill I had felt minutes before, as though I was being observed by unseen eyes. Shaking my head, I stood from the doe I was examining, and lifted my eyes to the trail, taking in the surrounding trees. Apart from the deer carcasses, Marjorie and I were quite alone.

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<p class="MsoNormal">Marjorie got off her bike and walked over to stand at my side. She gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth at the sight of the deer. “Oh, Cyrus, what happened?” she whispered. She looked terrified. I put my arm around her shoulder.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“It was probably a bear,” I assured her, though I did not believe what I was saying. “We should probably go,” I whispered. Marjorie agreed that we should leave and turned to go back to the waiting bicycles. Before returning to my ride, I decided to take a closer look at the fawn, to see if I could determine what had killed it. As I went in to take a closer look, I felt it once again. The chill, that feeling of being watched without your knowledge or consent. I froze. I stood still for several seconds. Then slowly I turned to see what was watching me. Nothing was there. I saw Marjorie standing a little ways ahead of me. I walked over to her. She was a foot or so away from our bikes, staring back the way we had come.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Come on, lil sis, lets go,” I urged. She didn’t budge. I caught sight of her face. There was a look of terror frozen upon her face. “What’s up?” I asked, concerned. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Worried, I followed her gaze up the trail, but still I could see nothing. Then she spoke, and I jumped at the sound of her voice.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“There was a woman,” she said softly. The look of fear was still frozen in place. I moved closer to her.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“A woman? Who was she?” I asked gently. Marjorie tore her gaze from the trail and looked me in the eye.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t know, Cyrus…I couldn’t see her face with the little light here. Besides, her hair was hanging in her face. But she was naked…and there seemed to be a dark stain down her front…” Marjorie trailed off. No man or woman alive could have slain these deer without the aid of weapons. Perhaps this apparition had nothing to do with the animals. But I had to know…

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Are you sure you saw a woman?” I urged her. A flicker of annoyance penetrated the look of fear on my sister’s face.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Why would I make this up, Cyrus?” she snapped. “There was a naked woman, she stood there staring at us, then she turned and scampered away on all fours.”

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<p class="MsoNormal">“Okay, okay, I believe you,” I said, holding my hands up. “I just had to be sure, that’s all. Lets get out of here.” We made for our bikes. Marjorie looked as though she was about to cry. I put my arm around her shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s gonna be fine, Marjorie. I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll be home and safe in no time,” I promised. She still didn’t look convinced, but there was no time for further reassurance. If there was a potential predator nearby, whether it was man or beast, then riding home with the utmost haste was the only acceptable course of action.

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<p class="MsoNormal">So we rode with all our might. We were determined to put as much distance between us and the corpses as possible. I was uncomfortably aware of the fact that we were going in the same direction as the beast or woman or whatever it was Marjorie saw. But if it had really run off as she said, then maybe whatever it was would keep away. But what was disturbing about all this was she took off on all fours. All I hoped was that Marjorie was just seeing things in the gloom and it wasn’t as sinister as it sounded. But something didn’t feel right…

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<p class="MsoNormal">It happened suddenly. One moment Marjorie and I were rounding the corner near the campgrounds, the next the two of us were flying sideways through the air. Something had collided with my left side, knocking me into my sister, and we both flew from our bikes. I scrambled to my feet, swearing at the top of my voice. I looked around wildly for our assailant. Then I heard a sound that made my heart skip a beat.

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<p class="MsoNormal">“CYRUS!”

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<p class="MsoNormal">I whipped around. Something had a hold of Marjorie and was dragging her away from me by her ankle. “MARJORIE!” I screamed. I dove forward and seized her hands. Looking up, I saw the woman she had described earlier. The woman was standing upright, pulling my sister with one hand. Her face was obscured by a curtain of long raven colored hair. Even in the gloom I could see a horrible dark stain down her front. It was blood. I didn’t look like blood in the gloom, but I knew that it was. This…thing had mutilated those poor deer. This thing wasn’t human. I didn’t know what it was, but it had to be a monster.So be it, sayeth the Lord. 06:00, January 6, 2016 (UTC)

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<ac_metadata title="Unfinished pasta, need feedback on what has been written so far (please read and review)"> </ac_metadata>