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April 8, 2019

I’ll start this with a very simple point: if I stop posting, then something has happened. I might disappear, but I’m going to make damn sure it’s not without a trace. A lot of people have been getting the story wrong lately, and if these are my last words, then I want them to be the truth behind that night. One of my ancestors was known to have been accused of similar crimes, but his words were lost to time. That’s why I’m posting this online - so that it is never lost, and so that my words can reach a wider audience.

I should give a little personal information so that should something indeed happen, you guys can link it back to this. My name is Mallory, and I live in a coastal town in Nova Scotia, Canada. That’s about all you need. Some of you might already know who I am and where I live just based on that alone. As for the rest, I’ll let you do the minimal work it takes to find the articles about the murder to figure out where I am. If you’re that determined to hold a protest calling for my imprisonment or whatever on my front lawn, then you can do a bit of research.

Who knows? Maybe during your reading you might see the police accounts that have proven my innocence. I guess people need someone to blame though; hence why I see so many comments online putting me at fault for Jake’s death. And yes, after I tell my story here, you might be even further convinced that I… that I killed Jake. But I won’t get anywhere by just saying “I didn’t do it”. So here goes nothing. (Read more...)

These stories were recently posted to our Writer's Showcase, where users can post their stories in need of some love. Please consider reading through them and leaving some feedback.

(Note: "Hallowroots" is the third collaborative project that has taken place on this wiki. It is an anthology that was written from late 2016 to early 2017, and, listed in order of appearance, the contributors were - ChristianWallis, Creepy Thomas O., Firsttoleave, GarbageFactory, Derpyspaghetti, Dr. Frank N. Furter, SkullMunch, Elliot Cowling. Thanks to everyone that contributed.)

Intro

The town of Hallowroots is the sort of place that you enter, flee, and somehow end up returning to despite a lifelong promise to never go back. It has an unfortunate reputation amongst a lot of people as a death sentence, but if you’re going to someone’s house to audit them you need to be aware of threats no matter the nature. Everyone here who does audits will have had guns, knives, and much more, pointed at them. It’s no different with Hallowroots, except that the things pointed at you will be a lot stranger. But Hallowroots is also kind of heartening. Like I’ve said to many other employees here; plenty of people live long lives there and a shocking number of them just adapt to the weirdness. It’s nice to see what people can just get over with enough time.

Still, none of you young folk want to hear about that. You want to know all the gory details. I’ve worked for a long time at the IRS and I’ve had my fair share of crazy stories but people only really want to know about my experiences at this specific town. Maybe it was the way Annie Davies came back after trying to audit Intra Inc., or maybe it’s the fact that most of you have snuck a peak at how much the DoD is paying Intra Inc. for a ‘secrecy clause’. I’d like to remind you, by the way, that doing so is a federal crime. Still I’m not here to chide you—Hallowroots is a poorly kept secret—but when I finally retire I’d like you have an understanding of what Hallowroots truly is.