Post by Abel on Apr 5, 2007 2:09:47 GMT 7
z6.invisionfree.com/townofabel/index.php
The Story[/u]
I can't tell you who I am, but I can tell you about that October. If you've ever noticed, certain events or well known inventions need not name, only indication. This is exactly both an event, and an invention that requires no name, nor an introduction. Still, to those who were fortunate enough to gain shelter from this tale, allow me to unravel a town of secrets...
The Town[/u]
In the year of 1926, the small mountain community of Treyback was established- only to become a town in the years following. Originally it's existence was thought to have innocent means, though history would prove otherwise. Unknown to the citizens of Treyback, it's massive profits were generated by liquor; a substance deemed illegal by the United States at that time. A pivotal war in the town's history broke out between the cops and the mob that ran the town, ending in a blood bath that stained the town's reputation for good. Shortly after, no one could bear the sight of where they had lost their loved ones, and as a result they left the town. The desertion left the town as nothing more than a ghost of what it used to be, completely abandoned by both the population, and hope.
In the late 1960's, the Abel family took up an interest in the town. Since the town had not previously been dedicated to any map, the switch of name was hardly a problem at all. The elder of the Abel family; both father and husband, decided that he would dedicate the town's purpose toward an Academy. His dreams weren't completely wholesome, while average people could work in his town, only the filthy rich could send their children to the prestigious Academy.
The town soon reflected the needs of the students attending the Academy, it filled with shops that only celebrity figures could afford. There were a few remaining town shops that had somehow survived, and continue to survive with the revenue sustained by both the towns people, and the established 'Geeks' that attend the school. Though the town itself is extremely isolated, it is hardly cut off from the fast world the materialistic few thrive in. It is, in a few short words, a hidden paradise.
Then comes October, just a couple years back. Autumn never looked so dismal in crimson.
The records detail the finding of a female corpse at approximately 9:04 AM on a Friday. Time of death was set just a couple hours before then. The body was immediately identified as Emma Durstein, and as a result, the name itself would be both a symbol, and a legend. The name stood not as a symbol for the girl, or the tragedy, but for the enigma and prolific genius behind the slaughter of an innocent girl. All of the tragedy could have been bypassed if we were all up for the figure's games, but his genius outsmarted that of the FBI.
The unidentified murderer's profile is that of any other serial killer, recluse, genius, sociopathic tendencies tracing back to some childhood horror, etc. The perpretrator is in need of some sort of control, thus he takes it out on innocent victims. A euphoric experience. Records also indicate that the victim was stabbed and strangled, which, by definition is murder out of passion. The killer fit a profile, and now all the town needed was a match.
But he wasn't done.
Several months pass and the town returns to it's relatively normal duties, there are the arrogant rich kids who attend the Academy, as there are the laidback townsfolk who spat off abduction theories to anyone who'd listen about the latest missing girl case. The name Emma had almost been forgotten, the symbol almost lost to a town who could defeat tragedy with normalcy.
That's when it happened.
A letter is sent to the local police, with only but a quote from Henry David Thoreau's "Walden." Typically this type of thing wouldn't shake a community, and it wouldn't have; but there was something else. Inside of the envelope were a bunch of ripped out fingernails, which tested as a positive match with Melissa's DNA.
Suddenly that name everyone designated to conspiracy theory becomes relevant once more, unfortunately it does so within the deepest horror of everyone's stained heart. Melissa Gornaky. The murderer's latest victim, who the police now call Thoreau. Search parties were sent to the woods, as Thoreau had gone in that specific passage.
The police overlooked one significant detail. A code.
FBI decoders noticed several misspellings, or.. missing letters throughout the infamous Thoreau passage, and when put together, the spelled out this..
or
Yet another life was lost, in a most gruesome way that I cannot bear to explain. The killer the police have codenamed as Thoreau, is still out there. Who will be next?
z6.invisionfree.com/townofabel/index.php
The Story[/u]
I can't tell you who I am, but I can tell you about that October. If you've ever noticed, certain events or well known inventions need not name, only indication. This is exactly both an event, and an invention that requires no name, nor an introduction. Still, to those who were fortunate enough to gain shelter from this tale, allow me to unravel a town of secrets...
The Town[/u]
In the year of 1926, the small mountain community of Treyback was established- only to become a town in the years following. Originally it's existence was thought to have innocent means, though history would prove otherwise. Unknown to the citizens of Treyback, it's massive profits were generated by liquor; a substance deemed illegal by the United States at that time. A pivotal war in the town's history broke out between the cops and the mob that ran the town, ending in a blood bath that stained the town's reputation for good. Shortly after, no one could bear the sight of where they had lost their loved ones, and as a result they left the town. The desertion left the town as nothing more than a ghost of what it used to be, completely abandoned by both the population, and hope.
In the late 1960's, the Abel family took up an interest in the town. Since the town had not previously been dedicated to any map, the switch of name was hardly a problem at all. The elder of the Abel family; both father and husband, decided that he would dedicate the town's purpose toward an Academy. His dreams weren't completely wholesome, while average people could work in his town, only the filthy rich could send their children to the prestigious Academy.
The town soon reflected the needs of the students attending the Academy, it filled with shops that only celebrity figures could afford. There were a few remaining town shops that had somehow survived, and continue to survive with the revenue sustained by both the towns people, and the established 'Geeks' that attend the school. Though the town itself is extremely isolated, it is hardly cut off from the fast world the materialistic few thrive in. It is, in a few short words, a hidden paradise.
Then comes October, just a couple years back. Autumn never looked so dismal in crimson.
The records detail the finding of a female corpse at approximately 9:04 AM on a Friday. Time of death was set just a couple hours before then. The body was immediately identified as Emma Durstein, and as a result, the name itself would be both a symbol, and a legend. The name stood not as a symbol for the girl, or the tragedy, but for the enigma and prolific genius behind the slaughter of an innocent girl. All of the tragedy could have been bypassed if we were all up for the figure's games, but his genius outsmarted that of the FBI.
The unidentified murderer's profile is that of any other serial killer, recluse, genius, sociopathic tendencies tracing back to some childhood horror, etc. The perpretrator is in need of some sort of control, thus he takes it out on innocent victims. A euphoric experience. Records also indicate that the victim was stabbed and strangled, which, by definition is murder out of passion. The killer fit a profile, and now all the town needed was a match.
But he wasn't done.
Several months pass and the town returns to it's relatively normal duties, there are the arrogant rich kids who attend the Academy, as there are the laidback townsfolk who spat off abduction theories to anyone who'd listen about the latest missing girl case. The name Emma had almost been forgotten, the symbol almost lost to a town who could defeat tragedy with normalcy.
That's when it happened.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to ront only the essental facts of life, and see if I could ot learn what it ha to teach, and not, wen I came to die, discovr that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dea, nor did I wish to practise resigntion, unless it was quie necessary. I waned to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all tat was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to driv life into a orner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, wy then to get the whole and genuine mennes of it, and ublish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by exprience, and be abe to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to "glorify God and enjoy him forever."
A letter is sent to the local police, with only but a quote from Henry David Thoreau's "Walden." Typically this type of thing wouldn't shake a community, and it wouldn't have; but there was something else. Inside of the envelope were a bunch of ripped out fingernails, which tested as a positive match with Melissa's DNA.
Suddenly that name everyone designated to conspiracy theory becomes relevant once more, unfortunately it does so within the deepest horror of everyone's stained heart. Melissa Gornaky. The murderer's latest victim, who the police now call Thoreau. Search parties were sent to the woods, as Thoreau had gone in that specific passage.
The police overlooked one significant detail. A code.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to _ront only the essent_al facts of life, and see if I could _ot learn what it ha_ to teach, and not, w_en I came to die, discov_r that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dea_, nor did I wish to practise resign_tion, unless it was qui_e necessary. I wan_ed to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all t_at was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to driv_ life into a _orner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, w_y then to get the whole and genuine me_nness of it, and _ublish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by exp_rience, and be ab_e to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to "glorify God and enjoy him forever."
FBI decoders noticed several misspellings, or.. missing letters throughout the infamous Thoreau passage, and when put together, the spelled out this..
findheratthechapel
or
Find Her At The Chapel
Yet another life was lost, in a most gruesome way that I cannot bear to explain. The killer the police have codenamed as Thoreau, is still out there. Who will be next?
z6.invisionfree.com/townofabel/index.php