I bought a new
house in the small town of Winthrop. The house was cheap,
but the most important part was that I needed to get away from the
city. A few months ago, I had a run-in with a stalker. While I had
managed to get him arrested, I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes just
constantly watching me. I felt like there were eyes everywhere, at home
and on the street, so I decided to move out into the country to
somewhere with less people, just for peace of mind.The house itself was
big and somewhat old, but otherwise very welcoming. The agent who
introduced me to the house had been required to mention that a serial
killer had lived here in the past, which was why the house was so cheap.
However, he, and later, my next door neighbor Sarah, both told me to
pay the thought no mind. Four other owners had lived in the house since
then, and all of them were very happy with it.I loved the house. Its
interior furnishings were beautiful and very comfortable. The people of
Winthrop were friendly, often bringing over freshly baked pastries or
inviting me over for dinner. "Get-togethers," they said, "were the key
to making sure everyone who lived in Winthrop loved it there."Yet after a
week, I stopped "loving it." The feeling of someone watching returned,
worse than before. I tried to ignore it, but soon I started losing
sleep. Giant bags grew under my eyes and I began yawning almost as much
as I breathed. Sarah was kind enough to let me stay in her house for a
few nights.It was during this time that I heard the legend of Forrest
Carter, the serial killer who had lived in my house. While no one knows
his exact kill count, Carter, also known as the Winthrop Peacock, was a
man with extremely severe case of narcissism. Legends say that he
couldn't fall asleep if he didn't feel like he was being watched. He was
finally arrested for putting up a scarecrow to watch him during the
night. Only it wasn't a scarecrow. Carter had murdered a 17 year old
girl, just so her corpse could stare at him.The story gave me shivers,
and after I went home, I felt like there were hundreds of pairs of eyes
just watching me no matter how I turned.Today, however, was the first
day that I acted out. I was cooking breakfast, when I felt the eyes.
Instinctively, out of fear, I threw my kitchen knife, which lodged
itself into the wall. As I pulled it out, I found myself staring at a
pair of eyes, pickling in formaldehyde.I've been watching the police
peel away the drywall of my house for hours now. So far, they've found
142 pairs of eyes in little glass jars. The scariest thing is, each and
every one was staring at me.
Stoppin'
by with a little tale to close out the day...Have a wonderful evening
on your end dear friend...
