The Final Sacrifice(Esthetique Community Writing Contests)

EC Contest Stage 1: The Final Sacrifice

esthetiquecommunity

Team members:
luvelleszzz
Thatgurlaturdoor

The Final Sacrifice

The dense fog hung heavy in the air as the townspeople gathered around the ancient oak, their breath visible in the cold weather, all eyes fixated on the rusted time capsule planted 75 years ago, about to be unearthed.

"Sheriff Turner, do you want to do the honors?" Lila, the old lady living across from Natalie said.

Sheriff Turner nodded and bent down to crack open the time capsule. As the rusted lid was pried open, a chill ran through everyone's spine. Amidst the dust, there was a severed right hand, and a note attached to its middle finger.

As the severed hand was carefully removed, the crowd's murmurs started to become a wave of horrified whispers. Natalie, being the journalist she is, decided to step closer to the hand and note, her eyes widening at the sight of it.

She could feel her heart pounding as she and Sheriff Turner read the note. "The darkness returns. Break the cycle before it's too late. -NM" The date written at the bottom of the note made her quiver more than she already was– October 31st, 1930. Sheriff Turner, seeing everything go down, decided to take charge before it went out of hand.

"Calm down everyone." She said with a steady voice. She turned to Natalie, who was already reaching for her notebook. "Ms Moore, I need you to stay put. We need to figure out where this hand came from and why your handwriting and initials are in that note." 

Natalie nodded. Though she knows damn well she did not write that note, she didn't want to go against the sheriff.

One thing Natalie did not understand was how was the handwriting in the note so similar to hers. Everyone in town knows that Natalie has a special way of writing her t's, which no one else in town does. It's clear that the date shows it was written 50 years before she was born, but why are her initials there too?

Later that night, after Sheriff Turner slightly questioned Natalie but decided to let her go for the moment, Natalie found herself alone in her dimly lit study table, scanning through the old files and town archives, searching for anything that might connect her with the hand or the note.

The next morning, Natalie decided to visit the town's historian, Henry Caldwell, whose house was tucked away at the edge of town. She stood outside the door, looking at the rust that had spread like a creeping disease. For a moment, she didn't even want to knock but she realized that if she wanted to find out why this was happening to her, she had no choice but to do so. The second the door creaked open, she immediately noticed the old books, maps, dusty artifacts, and the eerie atmosphere of the house.

"You murderer." He whispered as he was going to close the door on her face. "Henry, I need your help." Natalie stopped the door right before it closed. "That note wasn't written by me, and I didn't sever that hand. Please believe me."

Henry paused, his trembling hand still gripping the edge of the door. His eyes, clouded with age but sharp with suspicion, bore into Natalie's. He looked like a man who had seen too much and trusted too little. For a moment, it seemed as though he might slam the door shut, but instead, he sighed deeply and stepped back.

Once inside, Natalie urgently explained to Henry everything that happened, including her findings in the archive. "I...I found an unsolved case from 75 years ago. It involves this guy named Ethan Blackwood. What sets him apart from all the other unsolved cases is that he is the only person with a missing right hand. And obviously, I didn't kill him, as it was 75 years ago, 50 years before I was born." Natalie blurted it all out at once. "This whole situation might be tied to a dark moment in history, and I need your help to uncover the truth."