Coffin Scent: A Testimony

An Intro

AN INTRO
It all started as I opened my eyes
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A path trails behind me as I drag the sack through the woods. I have been walking for a long time. I don't know where I am going. I know I need some rest, but I can't risk losing any time; If I don't get this sack to the cabin before the police come after me -

Dear Alan Marshall,
Your daughter is in my company. If you want to find her alive, come to this location and follow the path it will lead you to. Do not contact anyone, or lead anyone to you. Otherwise, you'd be putting your daughter at risk.
Best of luck finding the address,
L.B.
P.S. If you need help, consult your browsing history.

The image of the chapped handwriting is carved into my mind, the fear I felt while reading it. I had found the letter, attached to a photograph of a big oak tree, hanging from a fridge magnet around 8 hours ago. At that time, my wife, Laura, was at work and my daughter, Haze, was supposed to be at school. However, in the photograph, a bloody upholstery sack hung from this same tree, and next to its trunk was Haze's favorite teddy bear, its whole body coated with blood. The only clean part of the toy was a note plastered on its face, hissing in bold, chapped words, 'ERROR 101: BARBIE NOT FOUND'. In the bottom left corner, a date was scrawled in the same chapped handwriting of the letter. I turned the photograph over to find an address, but I came up empty. I pulled out my phone and called Haze's school. She was not there.

My breathing quickening, I checked the windows and door for any signs of entry, the alarms for any signs of break-ins, but found nothing. Next, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed the date and "bloody sack oak tree" into the Google search box. A very similar picture, save for the bear and the sack size, came up attached to multiple news articles. The headlines read 'disfigured body parts found hanging from forest tree.' According to the articles, pieces of a woman's body were found inside a small sack in Cleftmine woods, a small and remote getaway for hunters and drug addicts. The more recent articles claimed that the suspect, who had been convicted 5 years ago, was later released. Unable to accept that this was related to Haze's disappearance, I checked my browsing history, which led me to a hunter's blog: one which shared pictures of prey found in Cleftmine woods. The last photo was of a human corpse. Feeling my blood run cold, my body moved of its own accord. One moment, I was staring in disbelief at the picture, and the next I was standing under a tree, a sack full of pieces of flesh lying open in front of me. The sack looked much bigger than it did in the photo, much fuller. I didn't know how the pieces had gotten there nor who they belonged to. I shivered, thinking for a second that this could be my daughter, but the sack was in the photo. It couldn't be her, I convinced myself. I bent down to inspect the pieces for a clue, spreading them out so that I wouldn't miss anything. I belched as the smell of putrid flesh hit my nostrils. Finally, I spotted something white between the bloodied ashy color and the red flesh. It was a piece of paper wrapped in a plastic bag. I tugged at the bag, trying to slip it out, but I ended up pulling out a bloodied human fist with it. The blood was so dry that the bag was stuck. I took the fist in one hand and the bag in another, closed my eyes, and pulled. I heard a sickly crunch and opened my eyes to find that the fingers had come off in my attempt to free the plastic bag. Shaking, I forced my eyes off the fingers and pulled out the second letter:

Dear Alan,
Good job. You've found the poison bag that was used to kill the victim. I'm sure your hands are as bloody as mine, too. You better take the sack home before the police find you.
See you there,
L.B.

Along with the letter was another picture, this one of a worn cabin, surrounded by overgrowth. At the sight of the cabin, a rush of energy flowed inside me and my body started to move instinctively. I looked around as my hands fumbled with the sack, quickly wrapping it up and making sure nothing dropped out of it. Then, I started dragging the sack, my heart beating to the memory of a young girl, of a forgotten life that had led me to a very similar situation once before.