Maplewoods

October 1st, 2014
The chief of police I am slaving for is making me to write in this journal. I had no choice in the matter because I was her last option as a field agent. Jerry was on family leave, Michael was investigating a child abduction case and here I was, alone with my boss in our lonely, yet homey, police station. It’s my last shift working in the office. I’m usually out patrolling the streets where the city hoodlums like to gather. They are usually doing something illegal, so I tend to go patrol there often. I've been there plenty of times. The kids down there know who I am. It’s funny because I've heard a few nicknames they had for me, and I don’t quite like them. Anyway, enough rambling about my troubles. I’m finishing this paragraph because I couldn't escape work early.

My boss told me I was getting off early so I would have ample of time to pack for the trip.I forgot to mention why I’m going to Maplewoods. There have been quite a few missing people in the town of six hundred and seventy two. It’s troubling us, because for the whole twenty three years I've been working here, we have never once received a call from the town area. I guess the townsfolk are friendly. I’m anxious about going there, but in all honesty, it’s for nothing. It’s not like I’m going in unarmed. I’m bringing a simple pistol as I doubt I’ll need anything more. If worst comes to worst, I can simply dial up the nearest police station. The only concerning thing that comes to mind is that Maplewoods is around a 7 hour drive from here. I don’t know why they can’t just get any other police force to do some surveying. I guess it’s because we are the biggest, and second closest station.

I should be sleeping, but I’m not. I can’t help but watch the weird, and somewhat creepy late night television. Nothing else came on during this time of the night. It’s soothing for some odd reason, I don’t know why. I guess it’s taking my mind off things. Why do I have to go there alone? Sure, the boss reassured me things would be fine, but I asked if I could be excused anyway. I wasn't excused, she told me I take the job or leave the station, and I don’t want to be jobless. I called again tonight, I asked for information about the town and my trip. She was happy telling me information as I figured she thought it would calm me down. I had a nice host family of three; a mother, a father and a 13 year old daughter. I’m excited about the trip now. I can finally stop writing in this notebook and get some sleep.

October 2nd, 2014
I’m about to leave for Maplewoods. It’s around 6:30 AM. I’m getting there by car, and I will be driving. It’s more than likely going to get boring. It’s all I can do. I’m told Maplewoods is a beautiful place so I’m sure I won’t become bored. I just finished my breakfast. I ate a bowl of cereal, an orange and a glass of milk. I have my bag packed. I’m bringing four changes of clothing, my police badge, my phone, a camera and my tazer. Oh, I also forgot to mention around 500 bucks.

My host family seems nice enough, I figured I might as well get them a gift. I’m going now, I’ll write more when I get there. I don’t wish to drive during nightfall.

It was shocking to me. Maplewoods is stunningly beautiful. I would have come earlier, but I had no idea how nice it was.

Maplewoods is situated along a river. The ‘downtown’ consists of buildings that run along the banks of the river. Locals call it the Maple River, but I know why. The river is huge, but it is tranquil. The town is currently surrounded by trees with leaves a shade of orange like the glow of a fire. Maple leaves sometimes float down to the river and get carried down the stream. The sight is just heartwarming to me. It would be in vain if I were to make an attempt at capturing Maplewood's essence on paper. There aren’t that many things in the town. I haven’t seen that many stores. I guess the people of Town go somewhere else to shop.

Let me talk about my host family. The daughter’s hair is blonde; it falls behind her in two honey colored braids. She told me she was fifteen. I believed her as she looked her age. The one thing odd about her is her eyes. Her eyes are a cold shade of blue; unwelcoming and sharp. Her mother closely resembles her daughter. They both share the same hair color. The mother’s eyes are a soft shade of green. She is around five foot seven. The dad is tall and slightly overweight. He has a shaves head, but I can still see a few sprouts of gray hair.

My host family welcomed me to Maplewoods with a home cooked meal. I was delighted; I hadn’t eaten on my journey that took at least six hours. The meal was extravagant. I figured I would be gaining like twenty pounds from the amount I ate. It’s an exaggeration, but the food was good enough that if you had tried it you would have believed me yourself. The daughter just left so she could ‘hang’ with her friends. The daughters name was Lisa; it was a nice name. The mothers name was Sharon and the father’s was David.

I am writing this entry in my small yet cozy room. It has a nice vine patterned wallpaper. This house must be very old because the hardwood floor squeaks at just the slightest amount of pressure. There is only one television in the house. It hardly works, but Lisa and David still gather around the box. I plan on asking them about the disappearances tomorrow. I don’t know how though. I’m supposed to be undercover as a photographer.

For now, I end this here. It’s late and I need to sleep.

October 3rd, 2014
Okay, something creepy just happened. It was late at night and I received a call from my boss. Lisa must have heard it because just as I finished talking into my phone she entered my room. My boss had called me because she wanted to check up on me. I guess she called at such a late hour because she didn’t want to alert my host family. Lisa barged in as soon as I hung the phone on the hook. She was in a yellow evening gown. She had a black flashlight in her grasp. Lisa asked me who I was talking to, and I panicked. I came up with an excuse that my parents were worried about me and checking up on me. She also asked why they were calling late at night. I responded by telling her my parents lived in a different time zone.

After Lisa had left the room I returned to sleep. I had trouble sleeping as I was analyzing the situation that just presented itself. I came up with the conclusion that she was more than likely just worried about who was calling and wanted to check up on me. Although, I doubt she could have heard my phone from across the house. I’m going back to sleep. I have no reason to stay up.

Everything went calm after that incident; I woke up without any disturbances. Breakfast was nice. I had a nice home cooked brunch as I had woken late. The sausages were good but the pancakes were just heavenly! I’m going out to investigate today. I plan on visiting the wood mill today because everyone who had disappeared were somehow connected to that place.

I brought my journal with me to the windmill, and I’m happy I did so. The place is quite eerie because it gives me a taste of something morbid, it makes me feel alone and it makes me feel empty. Yes I know; I’m such a poet. The mill is basically just a long wooden house with peaks created in a seemingly random pattern across the roof. The outside is dull. The wooden planks used in its creation were grey and old, but it seemed wrong to me, and I just don’t know why. The mill sits on a large hill that overlooks the warm looking; Maple coloured valley. I got there by taking the long winding path. The path itself is also quite eerie as the trees seem to bend over in the direction of the road. It makes the path dark during the day, and even darker at night. The view is nice though. I could see the whole town with all its glory from atop the mountain.

The woman I met once I knocked on the door was kind; she seemed nice. It was such an anticlimactic ending to the foreboding path that lead to the mill. She was an aged woman, but her smile said otherwise. She gave me a warm welcome to the town, but how did she know I was here? I didn’t like that and I was sure she could have sensed it. In response she apologized for not introducing herself. Her name was Melanie. It was such a wonderful name.

I entered the mill of course. The inside was about the same as the outside but less melancholic. There were old rusty hooks and bits hung on the wall. I guessed them to be some sort of woodcutting tool. She asked me why I was in town. I responded with my photographer scheme. She believed me and we began chatting about various things ranging from the weather to the vegetation of Maplewoods. I asked her about the disappearances and she grew quiet. Suddenly, and out of nowhere she asked me how I knew about them. I froze. I had no lie ready to deceive her.

I flipped on my improve switch and started taking mental notes of what I was saying. I told her that I knew about the disappearances because apparently my roommate warned me of them.

She calmed down and apologized. She told me she freaked out about it because her son had been a victim too. I asked her what she knew and she started crying. I wasn’t the prying type, but I needed to hear her story. Melanie began mumbling something about the trees that I couldn’t quite catch. She eventually sobered up enough to look me in the eye. She told me the trees had taken her darling away. Melanie began crying again after she finished speaking. I patted her shoulder and instinctively said that we would find her. I was in a panic because I had just blown my cover. I quickly corrected myself and told her the town would help find her child. I was caught off guard when she told me the town wouldn’t help.

Melanie eventually calmed herself down. I left shortly after with an excuse that I would be late for dinner. I was greeted by Lisa; her gaze locked with mine. She stood still with her stare unwavering as I slowly backed away.

I asked what she was doing but she responded by asking who I was talking to. I told her it was just some childhood friend. She told me to stop lying, and my heart skipped a beat. I told her I wasn’t but she told me again to stop lying. Before I could respond her eyes narrowed and she asked me what the witch told me. I think she was referring to Melanie as the witch. I responded by saying we talked about various things that we had to catch up on. She started crying and asked again for me to stop lying. Her crying just gave me the creeps. Her face wasn’t red; it remained calm and emotionless. Her voice was unwavering.

She stepped closer and from instinct I felt for my tazer that was hiding in my coat pocket. She was close enough to whisper six words in my ear. “You know the trees have eyes”. Those words sent a long cold shiver throughout my body. Her voice was like the sound of leaves rustling in the midnight breeze. That’s how I could describe it. I made my choice to flee. I knew I could outrun her because I had police training.

All the air rushed from my lungs as I was tackled to the dirt below. I struggled to turn my body around because a strong force was sitting on my stomach. I turned my neck instead and saw Lisa looking down at me. I reached for my tazer. She started convulsing and vomiting when the metal prongs connected with her hip. I used my chance to flee down the path that seemed to radiate malice with each step I took. I turned around once I reached the foot of the hill expecting to see Lisa staring back at me. She wasn't there, and I was so goddamn glad.

I decided to make my way back to the house so I could gather my things and leave. I arrived at the door and was met with nothing strange inside. The same elderly couple sat quietly while staring at the flickering screen before them. I acsended the squeaky wooden stairs quickly as I made my way towards the blue bedroom I slept in. Nothing was wong in my room. Not even a single spec of dust was ascew. I was quickly packing my belongings into my suitcase but I stopped when I heard a knock at the door. I froze and prayed that the door wasn't the only thing that kept me and Lisa apart. I made my decision to open the door. My body filled with regret as Lisa smiled up to me.

I managed to squeak out a small "What do you want". I expected her to grin, but to my surprise she frowned. She asked me if something was wrong and if she could enter the room. She told me she needed to get a book. She came in because the only thing I could do in response was mumble. I guess she took it as a ‘yes’. I watched every step she took towards the bookshelf. She reached up for a book and the shirt she was wearing dragged up giving me sight of her unbruised hip. My brain went overdrive trying to decipher what that meant. Night came without trouble.

October 4th, 2014
I'm writing this down quickly. There is a forest fire outside. I'm leaving this place today when emergency response arrives. I won't continue writing in this journal.