The Maple Town Murders part 1. The discovery in the Forest (standard:horror, 3006 words) [1/3] show all parts
Author: Richard J Cobain	Updated: Jun 02 2003	Views/Reads: 3622/2498	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
George Peterson is drawn to a part of the forest one day that he has never seen before. Little does he know the horrible secrets it holds.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

 He was scared by the time he got there and had to sit down.  When his 
nerves had subsided slightly he went to his window, which overlooked 
the driveway in the hope of seeing his father return.  It was a 
horrible night, rain pelted the window and thunder boomed in the sky 
lighting it as if God was taking photographs with a giant camera at 
regular intervals.  Why the hell was his father out on a night like 
this for and was he even coming back?. This was a new thought, which 
troubled him no end.  A father who beat you up from time to time was 
better than no father at all. A while later he saw the darkened outline 
of his father trudging slowly up the driveway and seemingly coming from 
the forest direction.  A flash of lightening illuminated the sky at 
that moment and George was horrified to see that his father's hands and 
jumper were covered in blood.  He jumped into bed straight away, to 
avoid suspicion.  He heard his father enter the house and close the 
door.  Now he was coming up the stairs very slowly and quietly.  He 
then walked past his own bedroom and stood outside George's half open 
door.  George's heart was pounding with fear, what was his father up 
to; he was never so terrified in his life.  Eventually after what 
seemed like a lifetime his father turned back and crept to his room. As 
Jack made his way to bed it was the hardest thing in the world for 
George to keep silent.  He kept thinking that his father could hear his 
breathing and his thinking.  After a while he heard his fathers snores 
and knew he was safe.  He let out a sigh of relief.  He couldn't get 
the image of the blood on his father out of his mind however.  “Maybe I 
imagined it” he said to himself, “I had to have imagined it”.  “After 
all the flash only lasted a second” But deep down he knew the truth, 
his eyes hadn't deceived him.  So now a new and much more important 
question had to be answered why was there blood on his fathers clothes. 


Later that night when he had finally gotten to a troubled sleep George
had a very unpleasant nightmare.  In it he was standing in the 
clearing, he heard a noise behind him and turned to see his mother 
hanging off the lone tree.  Her once milky white complexion was gone, 
her skin was horribly grey and her neck had gone blue around the noose 
of the rope.  She was covered with dirt and leaves and both her wrists 
were slashed.  She suddenly opened her eyes startling George into 
stumbling backwards.  “What happened to you mom?” he asked.  “Why did 
you leave me?”  “You're father killed us” she spoke in a voice that 
wasn't human.  “What are you talking about?” he asked in confusion.  
His mother pointed behind her without taking her dead eyes away from 
him; there were six women and two young girls standing someway behind 
her ranging from about seven to thirty five.  They too were covered in 
dirt and had cuts and bruises all over them.  Some of their throats 
were savagely ripped open others looked like they had been hit with 
blunt objects.  “No” wept George “he wouldn't do that”,  “Dig us up” 
she asked him and then screamed it “dig us up”.  He woke up covered in 
sweat.  Was the dream true, could it have been some kind of 
premonition?  Was his father a murderer?.  The more he thought about it 
the more it made sense and the truth soon became painfully clear.  
First of all was the fact that Jack had raging mood swings, which could 
be set off at any time and for no obvious reason.  Second was his 
mother's mysterious disappearance.  Thirdly George remembered hearing 
stories of young hitch hikers going missing in this very town and the 
nearby town of Lake View.  And lastly was his father's absence in the 
forest tonight and returning with the bloodstained clothes.  All these 
facts put together seemed to point the finger quite convincingly at his 
father.  He didn't get any more sleep that night. 

Early the next morning before Jack awoke George left the house and
headed into the forest to look for one more piece of evidence which 
would incriminate his father beyond doubt, but before he did he crept 
into Jacks room and took a look at his boots, they were covered in mud 
and leaves, he had been in the forest.  He could see the tracks left by 
his father the night before and they seemed to George's utter surprise 
to be heading towards the clearing.  It was a beautiful day, much like 
the day that he first discovered it but that didn't matter.  What did 
matter was what the hell he was going to do if he did find more 
evidence.  “I hope to God I'm wrong” he said to himself as he walked 
through the endless rows of tall, thick Maple trees which seemed to be 
closing in on him as he went. 

Finally he came to the clearing.  It looked different to him today, the
tranquillity and purity of the place, which had been so strong that he 
almost felt like he could reach out and touch it was gone.  Now it just 
looked like a secret waiting to be discovered.  George suddenly 
realised that he didn't care for this place anymore.  It had changed 
somehow.  It wasn't his own and it never had been.  It looked the same 
but it just didn't feel the same.  He walked over to the lone tree that 
his mother had been hanging off in his dream.  Even in the light of day 
it looked quite spooky.  He tried to make out what made the tree seem 
different to him than the others but he couldn't do it, but something 
was different all the same.  It almost felt like the tree was looking 
at him.  It sounded crazy but it was the truth.  He walked into its 
shade and a shiver immediately ran through his body.  It felt much 
colder in there for some reason.   He was scaring himself badly at this 
point and was just about to leave when he spotted something out of the 
corner of his eye.  About fifteen yards from where he stood was a small 
mound of earth as if the ground had been recently dug up.  He had never 
noticed this until now.  He got down on his knees and began scraping 
away the dirt with his bare hands.  Before long a human hand was 
visible.  He stumbled backwards and was violently sick.  When he got 
his breath back he filled up the hole with his foot trying not to look 
at the lifeless hand.  Suddenly he broke down in a streaming fit of 
tears, as he never had before.  There could be no doubt about it now.  
His father was a killer.  It was an unbelievable shock despite of the 
fact that he suspected him anyway.  How long had he been getting away 
with this for? Why was he doing it in the first place?.  Anger seemed 
to take over him and his whole body began to shake.  He wasn't going to 
get away with this anymore.  He walked home slowly oblivious to 
everything around him with the beginnings of a plan in his head, a plan 
to kill his father. 

All that day George convinced himself that killing his father was the
right thing to do and by the time it got dark he was actually looking 
forward to doing it.  It was a strange thing saying goodnight to his 
dad as he went to bed knowing what he was about to do.  He lifted the 
pillow on his bed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.  
The meat cleaver was still there, newly sharpened.  He got into bed 
cradling the knife as though it were a baby.  About an hour later he 
heard his father turn in for the night.  “I'll give you half an hour to 
fall asleep and then you're history” he whispered to himself.  
“History, history, history, history...”  He woke suddenly and looked at 
his watch.  “Shit” he gasped “I've been asleep for three hours”. He 
slowly got out of bed and crept towards his father's room.  Curiously 
he didn't feel strange about what he was doing.  He took a deep breath 
and opened the door.  His father wasn't in bed; his boots and jacket 
were missing.  George ran furiously back to his room threw on some 
clothes and headed for the forest.  The moon was full and the knife 
gleamed in his hand, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the long 
blade, it was more than a little hypnotizing.  He walked the path 
avoiding the hollows and fallen logs flawlessly.  It was a very cold 
night and he could see his breath floating in front of him.  A slight 
fog was visible in front of him impairing his vision slightly but he 
could have found his way there blindfolded.  He had only one thing on 
his mind as he neared his destination, revenge.  He could have sworn he 
heard his mothers voice from somewhere behind him.  “Kill him, kill 
him” she was saying.  “Yes mother” he replied with a smile and walked 
on. 

When he got to the edge of the clearing he could hear grunting noises. 
He slipped quietly behind a tree and watched with his breath held.  His 
father was raping the corpse of a young woman.  “You sick bastard” 
George muttered under his breath.  He didn't realise how tightly his 
hand was wrapped around the knife handle.  His knuckles were going 
white and his arms began to shake uncontrollably with immense rage.  
After his father was done he picked up a shovel and began digging the 
unfortunate victims grave near the “castle tree” as George now called 
it.  He whistled as he dug.  “Dig, dig, dig” George spoke to himself 
without knowing.  “You're digging your own grave asshole, tire yourself 
out”.  He watched on never taking his eyes off Jack for a second.  He 
was seeing his father in a new light; he was finally seeing his real 
father.  Jack finished the grave after a while dragged the body into it 
and began to fill it up.  It was time.  George left his position and 
circled around the clearing until he was facing his fathers back.  
“This is it you fucker” he whispered as he crept forward from the 
safety of the trees to the danger of the clearing.  Once again his 
knife hand began to shake but he didn't notice.  He was thirty feet 
away, now twenty.  Sweat began to pour down his face, what if he turned 
around now? What if he can hear me?. Ten feet away.  Every step seemed 
like a mile, like eterninty.  Finally he was right behind his father, 
he was so close that he thought he could actually smell evil coming 
from him.  He lifted the knife above his head and screamed, “this is 
for mom” as he buried the blade deep in his father's left shoulder.  
Jack howled in agony and surprise, the noise penetrated a wide radius 
of the forest sending many birds into the air for safety.  But 
incredibly Jack didn't go down.  He stayed on his feet and showing 
superhuman strength he pulled the knife out and punched his son hard in 
the face breaking his nose with a loud snap and sending blood gushing 
into the air.  George hit the ground with a thump and saw stars.  When 
his vision returned Jack was standing over him with the shovel.  He 
raised it high into the air and spoke in a voice, which wasn't his “you 
should have minded your own business Georgie” and with that he brought 
the shovel down again and again long after the screaming had ceased.  
As he stood over the body of his son a single tear rolled down his 
face.  “Why couldn't you stay away George” he sobbed in his normal 
voice.  “Why didn't you just stay away from here”.  As a full moon 
shone down on the scene of many horrific murders Jack dropped the 
shovel with a heavy conscience and disappeared into the darkness of the 
forest. 

Epilogue 

A search party found George's body five days later.  When the
surrounding ground was dug up the mutilated bodies of ten women 
including his mother were found.  Although his shovel was recovered and 
a piece of his clothing was discovered close by Jack Peterson has never 
been seen since. 

THE END 

Richard J Cobain Copyright© Kieran McCarthy 2001 


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