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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1929714-Ambrose
by Ghost
Rated: 13+ · Preface · Mystery · #1929714
"Call the Sheriff. We may have a serial killer on the loose..."
{Before continuing on to the story, I would like to clear things up. I've received a lot of questions and criticisms over it. If you haven't noticed, this is only a prologue. The characters in this chapter don't really have any importance, and it's the reason why I had't bothered to build up their characters as well as I could have.}

-


The fog was like a mother cradling her new child, strong willed in it's effort to shield the small town from the sun. Nestled in the dense vapor lived a secluded people. A people of grace and pride. A town hidden in the cryptic labyrinth of a foggy, Oregon morning. It was a quiet place that they called home, but the idea of Big Foot's existence was far more plausible than the abstraction of murder.

"Well, what have we got?" A decrepit woman of copper hair and tired eyes eased into a crouch and studied the gruesome sight before her.

A young girl, barely of age was plastered in earth. The ghost of life was a simple remnant in her void-less eyes. The remains of her cracked mascara slid down her cheeks and danced with the pools of mud and debris. Her cheeks were slightly hollow, as the beginnings of decomposition annexed her body. Her yellow hair was like bending gold in the light, but the rain had washed it in nature's filth. Freckles dotted her premature body, and the blue dress clung to her pallid skin. She was like a dead flower. Broken and empty in the same breath.

"Our boys dug her up a couple of hours ago. Coroner says she's been dead for about a week though. I'm guessing... Twelve. Twelve years old." The cop sighed, cringing as a single drop of rain slid down his back. The downpour pelted the pasture, drowning the earth in water.

The woman let out a disapproving exhale, frowning as she stood back up and studied the morbid thing.

"She was beautiful... Ford, are you sure that-that-" Her voice was cut off by the small distance in detail. The figure that the rain blurred of clarity. An object that was alabaster and barren of barely any flesh.

" 'That' what? What are you-"

"Ford, do you see that?"

"See what?" They both squinted into the rain, studying the field of flowers. And like an epiphany, the petals revealed a thousand of those small details. Scattered aimlessly under the blossoms. The lightning that waltzed with the thunder was a requiem, and the explosion caused goosebumps to lift from their skins.

"Oh my God."

"It's-It's a graveyard." Their eyes traveled into the bigger picture then, as the rain thrashed the bones and the bodies that stuck out of the earth.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1929714-Ambrose