The Children of Blackthorn Woods

I have withheld a secret, a secret so terrible that it cannot possibly be confided in any other living being on this Earth. A secret that has gnawed at me for the past 7 months, that continues to suck the life out of me with the passing of each day, and now it has consumed my soul entirely. Dreams of that cursed place have certainly played a part, and I find that not even sleep can serve as an escape from the horror that makes its presence known in the back of my mind. I have learned that some secrets don't stay buried, and they will wait with endless, deadly patience until they get what they desire.

I write this in a state of hopelessness and defeat, but also with acceptance, of my fate and whatever fate has in store for me beyond that. I cannot avoid these forces that refuse to rest forever. I brought this upon myself, I must accept responsibility for my horrifying actions. I write this because I simply cannot let this secret eat me from the inside out any longer, and I realize that it is time to open the cursed gates of my soul and let whatever dark poison that dwells within spill out onto this page. Ink has never been so black.

I might as well quit dancing around the details, and finally shed light on what truly exists among the crooked trees of Blackthorn Woods. This nameless evil does not stem from ancient tales of evil entities passed down through the aeons, neither is it facts twisted into unbelievable fiction like these certain tales. What now dwells within the cursed woods is all too real, and is a direct product of my unforgivable actions.

I suppose I should begin by addressing the innocent person who incited the chain of horrors that eventually led to the demise of both of us in the long run. If Jonathan Gedney had never stepped foot into Blackthorn, then I could guarantee his longevity, but I cannot guarantee my own either way.

Jonathan Gedney was a college student studying journalism from Gridlock University, and had wished to do an article on the history of Blackthorn. Since I am the chief of the pitiful police force of this town, he assumed I would be the best choice to draw information from. The ghost stories that are woven throughout the town's past aren't exactly unknown by the surrounding towns, but attempts have been made to hush them up enough to where clear details are often hazy, and sometimes vacant altogether. These hidden pieces of information are what fuels the curiosity of people like Jonathan Gedney, and therefore they are what brought him to my front doorstep.

When he first introduced himself to me, he made clear that he wanted as much information as possible. His goal must have been to write a piece that would contain secrets that no other inquiring outsider had ever been able to attain. I didn't have the heart to tell him that no method of prying would achieve anything better than the fools before him. Hollow dreams of fame and recognition is what he sought ultimately, but no ordinary man could crack open the tomb of secrets that have been carefully preserved by the town itself for centuries.

These stories began in the late 1600's, when the fear of witches was rampant, and where many women were executed without mercy. Salem suffered a very similar ordeal, but Blackthorn didn't ever make it into the history books, due to how the isolated nature of the town made it difficult for information to escape. One particular witch stood out among the others, killing more men and children than any other of her kind, and evading capture 8 times. When she was finally bound and shackled and brought to the gallows in front of the leering townspeople, she screamed a torrent of curses upon the town that were supposedly heard in the next town over.

This period was certainly the darkest stain in Blackthorn's history, and many people refuse to acknowledge it altogether. However, there was an odd event that occurred centuries later in the early 1800's that stirred up whispers about certain dark forces that appeared to have the town gripped in their claws. Mayor John Lackley had just been voted into office, defeating his opponent, James Fry. Lackley was a man who indulged in fashion, and his choice of clothing often served as a strategy to direct attention towards himself. He could often be seen wearing a blue suit that accomplished this without difficulty.