What Not To Do In The Valley

John Doe

John had autism, but that didn't make him a super detective. It mostly just influenced his post-work ritual of getting the same milkshake from the same diner every evening and talking his friend's ear off about victorian medical practices. 

He was a good detective because he tended to have the same thoughts the victims had before dying - usually putting him in harm's way, but often solving his cases. 

An alleged psychic screamed at him and told him he needed to sage himself immediately, which is a very hard thing to respond to. 

His partner, Aster, who was assigned to make sure he didn't die at the scene, started joking that he was haunted. 

Aster usually drove him to work and back because he couldn't, but today they were sick, so he just walked. 

It took longer than he remembered. He passed the gas station and continued on until he recognised the trees. 

When he got home, a small open area with a few half-burnt walls and a bit of roof sheltering his comfy chair and laundry pile, he took off his shoes and jacket and lay on the floor for a while—decompressing after the day. 

He heard cracking twigs but didn't pay it any mind until he consistently heard two feet approaching. 

John sat up and looked at the young woman approaching. She had a buzzcut and trousers just like the corpse he saw today. 

"I'm so sorry," Kimber told him, holding out her hands to show she meant no harm.

He just stared at her. It was the end of his day and he was beyond making friendly faces. 

"You're the detective, right?" She asked, reaching into her jacket. When he nodded, she took out a wad of paper money and said, "I've been looking for someone who can help me solve a murder."

John stood up. He stared at her bloody cash-filled hand. Looking between it and her face. 

She used her free hand to pull her collar up further. 

"You look like a corpse I saw today," He told her. 

Kimber nodded. "I have a few leads. I remember seeing glowing eyes. There was this creature that showed up at my house two days ago..."

He considered it and then crossed his arms. "I don't enjoy this trend of people finding my home."

"The funny thing is I don't live too far away from here." Kimber smiled weakly. "I'll show you everything."

She seemed interesting. 

Not as interesting as that house he went to with human meat stuck to the walls, floors and ceiling, but very close. Especially after she started talking about angels. 

It was irresponsible to take on another case while still figuring out the meat house, but this was technically the same murder he started working on this morning. 

John Doe made the very good decision to walk around the pitch-black woods with a bleeding dead woman who was overly excited about explaining both her and her body's nightmares about death. 

It was the most interesting conversation he'd had in years. 

He felt alone after she realised she had to go meet a friend, so he decided to continue on his walk until he felt like going home to read. 

He could hear the faint sound of orchestral music coming through the trees. 

The dull glow of fire ahead drew him closer and he took care to tread lightly.

It was a bonfire, a bucket of blood, nondescript flesh chunks, and two women in scary makeup and complex black clothes. 

Sitting boredly aside from them was a man with messy slicked-back hair and a loose tie. A spot of blood on his shirt collar. 

John peaked at them from behind a tree. Pulling his phone from his pocket to take a picture of each person.

The man looked his way and he hid before he could open the camera. He thought about Kimber's story and how they never found her body.

For all the people that go missing in the woods, they never find the largest bones. 

John snuck away, deciding to visit the site in the morning. 

He felt eyes burning into the back of his neck.

John turned to see the man had followed him, looking at him with a mild scowl. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked, approaching.

"I live here," John said, pointing in the direction he was heading.

The man narrowed his eyes. "You can't say a word of this to anyone."

John nodded, knowing it was the unfortunate truth. As he came home, he tried his hardest to keep the man's face in mind, but he could not remember his features. It would've been scary if he hadn't always been face blind. 

He didn't think the man caught him spying on them, as he'd passed John on his way out. He'd met flute-carrying cultists who'd seemed like more of a threat. 

These three were not of The Orchestra, however. They didn't have the marks.