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I'm not claiming to be a detective. And I'm not claiming to have all the answers. But this wasn't in any newspaper I could find. So this is my story.

It started in the summer of 2007. Lenore Waters was found dead at a theme park. She had been decapitated by a piece of metal while making out with her boyfriend, Jake, according to him. She was a friend of a friend, and I didn't know her very well, but I got invited to her funeral, which took place outside her house.

After the wake, some of Lenore's friends were allowed inside her house. For no particular reason, I went up to her bedroom. There was a note on her bedside table.

It read:

"There once was a girl called Lenore.
Who truthfully, was a sick whore.
While having a fuck,
She forgot to duck,
And her head rolled onto the floor."

It was some kind of limerick. But it explained her death in a sick nursery rhyme. This was when I realized, her death was no accident. Some psychopath killed her and then wrote a rhyme about it, or maybe the other way around. I asked her parents if they knew anything about the note. Her mum burst into tears and her dad started shouting at me. Clearly he thought I wrote the note as some sick prank.

I told my other friends, who were at the funeral. And they all agreed with me that there's a killer on the loose. A killer we named The Limerick Man.

We didn't go to the police, due to lack of evidence they would just think we were kids fooling around. And so, we decided to investigate ourselves.

Our "team" consisted of me, Bill, Nate and Sally. First, we went to the theme park where she died. Of course we couldn't go to many places, the police had cordoned off a lot of the park, including the "River of Love" where Lenore was killed. Just as we were about to leave, Sally said she saw a short man in a top hat with a walking stick. When we went to look, there was nothing there except a silver coin. One side had a feather on, the other side had a sun.

For the first couple of days, we didn't find anything. Sally had to go out of town to see a car race, so it was just the three of us. That's when we found the second limerick, pinned to Sally's front door.

"There once was a girl named Sally.
Who attended a stock car rally.
She leaned out to say hi,
When a racer passed by,
And knocked her right out of the alley."

We all knew what this meant. Sally was next. We tried to call her, but no response. A few days later her parents got back to town, and informed us that Sally had been hit by a car while cheering on her favorite racer. Her brother tried to tell us something, but he was crying too much for me to understand him.

Apparently Nate understood, though, and later he told me that Sally's brother had apparently seen a little man in a top hat driving the car when Sally was hit.

The Limerick Man. There was no doubt.

At this point, the rest of us knew that at any point, The Limerick Man could choose one of us as his target. That looming uncertainty, it's scarier than any invincible teen killer or haunted video game. That feeling... is true terror.

Then Nate found another limerick on the back of his door.

"There once was a boy called Nate.
And truly, his odds were quite great.
Locked up in his room,
He fell to his doom,
While fiddling with a metal grate."

So Nate was next. Now The Limerick Man had killed two people, and he was going to kill three if we didn't intervene. Me, Bill and Nate decided to pull an all-nighter. We were on a Discord group video call, so if anything happened we would have video proof.

It happened at about 2AM. Nate's video started to lag out, and his sound cut off completely.

He started typing in the chat.

"i hear something"

"fucking creepy i think its him"

And then a while later:

"blocked my door with some boxes so i should be safe 4 now"

We started yelling at him on the call to unblock his door. It was aligning perfectly with the limerick. He couldn't hear us, and apparently our messages didn't send properly either.

"holy shit i hear something in the vents"

"i think hes trying to break the grate"

"im gonna check it"

That was the last message he sent. In the morning, our fears were confirmed. Nate broke his neck while trying to close the ventilator grate.

This means it was going to be me or Bill.

Bill was convinced by the short stature, top hat and speaking in riddles that this was a leprechaun. He apparently spent all day at the park picking clovers to place around his bedroom. He was also drinking Red Bull whenever I saw him. Clearly he wasn't planning on any sleep either.

Then he found a limerick on his bedroom pillow.

"There once was a boy called Bill.
Who thought he would never be killed.
Watchful by law,
The last thing he saw,
Was a laughing fiend on the sill."

It seemed The Limerick Man himself was coming to end Bill's life.

There wasn't much left to go on the next morning. Bill just wasn't there. The police assumed he had run away, but what didn't make sense was the strange symbol painted above his bed in blood.

Supposedly it was an illustration of a grinning face surrounded by 3 symbols. A quill, a crescent moon and a sword. I didn't understand it. All I knew was that I would be next.

I was sick with anxiety. But then I found it. A strange green book with the word "Luimneach" on the front in gold lettering. I opened it and it was full of limericks. Each one detailing someone's death. Some I knew, some I didn't.

My name wasn't in the book. I looked for hours, but I wasn't there. Finally I reached the end of the book. There was a message, seemingly for me.

"Hello, Jack!
What fun we've had, ho ho!
Did my rhymes make you sick with laughter?
Did you shudder with glee?
Never fear, young Jack.
For you won my game, ho ho!
Now you write a limerick!
And if you don't...

There was a blank space for a final limerick.

I picked up a pen and began to write.

"There once was a limerick man.
Who's rhymes shortened childrens' life spans.
You want me in your game?
Then you'll feel the pain,
When you die, you limerick man."

It wasn't my best work, but I hoped it did the trick.

I was going to kill the Limerick Man using his own rhymes.

And after a month, nothing happened. I was still alive. It seemed I killed him.

Years passed, and nothing really happened. Until recently, my friend Mart found this note in his college dormitory.

"There once was a young man called Mart,
Who really, truly loved art.
Oh he'll feel faint,
When he's used as paint,
This masterpiece will be in the charts."

It seems The Limerick Man is back. I've posted all I know here, so if you find a strange rhyme that seemingly details your death... He's after you.