Maria Oh Maria

8th L E T T E R

The murder unknown to the murderer.

Dear Maria,

Do you remember the time we went into the woods in search of the evil witch and her sugar hut?

 For me it's as clear as crystal but for you I'm not sure, it's been 7 years and as far as I remember history wasn't your best subject.

 Anyway, I still have that picture, I have been treasuring it for these past 7 years. The picture we took over the cliff. The rising sun, the yellow piercing through the velvet carpet with a violet tan. The grey woods of winter covering the white lands bathed in dim gold.

 Yes, Mrs Shaw has been quite proud of my writing skills these days.

 At this moment, that gorgeous memory of us hangs honourably on the wall of my room.

 But I'm thinking of taking it down. It always reminds me of that particular memory that I can't remember. It's like that hole in a velvet carpet mom bought for a grand price. And it stings to not remember what it was that we saw, was it an animal? a bird? Both? Two children? A hut? An old woman? A witch?

 The more I try to recall the harder my head aches, and the closer they come, the demons. Yes I have officially started calling them the demons, since I have concluded that my urges are none but their doings.

 It all started from those woods Maria and I'm sure whatever that I can't remember, is the reason behind these strange urges and these death and your disappearance and Rory and Mrs Percy, and everything that has shoved my life to the bottom of this dreadful canal.

 Mrs Percy, she has been going on about some weird stuff, shouting on our gate, doing some ritual around our house, throwing smelly water on my hair while I'm on my way to or from school. She mostly does these things when I'm home alone which makes it even worse as Mom and Dad simply don't believe me.

 I remember when I, finally out of annoyance, confronted her if she had a problem with me. Mrs Percy simply stared, dead into my eye, and oddly kept muttering something I couldn't fathom except the word

devil and purification, devouring and being devoured.

 But now that I think about it, it was too quiet to hear and my ears have been working a little funny lately. She could have been talking about something else too, like angels, holy blessings and the last supper, possibly anything.

 
Who knows.

 I didn't like whatever she said and the demons didn't like it either. And before I could have a say in it, she is gone.

 I woke up beside the lake yesterday with stars in the sky and orange tint peaking from the hills. I honestly have no memory of walking all the way across the market to here but after learning about Mrs Perci's strange disappearance, I now am aware of the deeds my demons and I might have committed the night before.

 The lights of the police cars flashed around our porch this  evening  when people finally got suspicious of the unusual calmness of our neighbourhood.

 One of the neighbours confirmed that she had some mental illness and sometimes she would loose her cool and be aggressive with the occultic stuff or go out in search of animal bones and feathers but she has never been out for this long. Mr Hartmann, being the creepy peeper he was, confirmed of this statement with more details saying she has not been home from 9pm Tuesday.

 My parents now believe my stories about that wretched woman a little bit more. I managed to come home before their waking hours. I'm glad I had the keys in my pockets.

 But problem is that I can see it, the demons getting closer. Their dreadfully cold presence is now too near for my comfort and I don't like being stared while asleep. I don't like committing crimes while unconscious.

 I don't want to harm anyone but they do. I don't want to lose anyone anymore but I know they'll make me. I want to desperately ask for help but when I try, they don't let a breath escape my lungs.

 They are overpowering me bit by bit and the scariest part is that I can do nothing but watch and wither.

 Grandma was right. The siblings shouldn't have gone into the woods. We should have never gone into the woods either Maria.

 Because woods such as these are odd. They don't leave you even when you find your way back home. You can never fully get out of them. Even under the brightest lights surrounded by concrete and bricks, you would still be trapped inside the cage of trees and their leaves would ogle at you. Through the darkness they would witness you suffer and finally give up.

 Red light, Blue lights flashing, the shine of a gun, men with tiny stars on shoulders.

 I hope they don't search inside the lake.

 
Yours only,

25 15 21 18    4 5 1 18     19 9 19 20 5 18