I guess you are wondering what this story is about huh? Well, to put it simply, it's a way to lift a burden of my shoulders, and before you ask "What Burden?" I would like to tell you who I am, as it may shed some light into what I am about to tell you. My name is James Arthur, son of Melanie and Samuel Arthur, younger brother to both my elder sister Elaine Arthur and Marcus Arthur; and one of the four survivors of the Kingston Massacre, committed by what the media calls " The Puzzle Butcher". Now if you have not heard of this horrendous event, well keep reading, for I will explain through my own experience what happened, and before you ask how I can remember all of the details, let me say that I always had a knack for remembering things, whether it be a curse or a blessing still alludes me; do you understand? Good, let's begin.
To give you a bit more background, I will tell you the following; Kingston was a small town located in Wyoming, a bit off the public radar, but visited regularly by drifters, backpackers, truck drivers and road trip adventurers. It had a population of about 1000, and as such most of the residents there knew each other quite well. The town was always open to strangers, as the founder, Christian Bower, believed, and I quote " Strangers always bring the best experiences and ideas." In a sense, this might of been what brought this massacre to this cozy little town....but I digress, the town was also once the location for a underground coal mine. Something that was abandoned around 10 years before my birth due to deadly hazards within the mine, such as unstable supports, poisonous gas coming from the earth, and much more. This left entertaining passerby one of the most important points of income for the town.
This town, the place I call home, would soon fall victim to someone, no, something so vile and horrendous that it almost caused the entire population to leave, but enough background. Let me tell you my story.
I was 18 when the massacre occurred, I was a student at the only high school in town, Kingston High. It was a small school, around 300 students, but it was not void of the regular teens you would expect in some high school drama. There were the jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds, the gothic kids and then everyone else. I guess I fell in between nerds and everyone else, as I loved games and books, but not to the point I could not stop and talk about something else, less important details aside, one thing that was known about me in school was that I was a story teller, I would usually create stories to entertain the younger kids who went to the elementary school across the street. Ironically this caused most adults around town to think I was a liar, which was completely false, nonetheless it persisted throughout my 3 past years in high school, and even into my final year of high school. I was of course, not immune to bullying by those jocks, though not as much as others. I guess it was cause of my friend Valerie, who was quite popular with the jocks, despite being hated by the cheerleaders, but enough of that, you are reading for the massacre right? So I'll just tell extra details whenever I see fit.
I guess I'll have to start at the beginning of the week before the massacre. As it would help you understand the gravity of the event that unfolded. It seemed like it was gonna be a regular day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the usual morning cliche. My alarm clock blared to arouse me from my bed. I got out somewhat in a dazed, but was blinded by the sunlight that shot into my bedroom from the window, after recovering from my momentary sightless, I headed towards the bathroom. I bumped into my brother along the way.
"Morning Sunshine, god you look hideous today" was his greeting to me, I just smiled in response, for I was way too drowsy to actually say anything. My brother was visiting us all the way from New York, he had been able to enter an Ivy League School due to a Scholarship (I was not sure if it was Harvard or Yale) and was able to graduate with a Law degree, he became a Assistant District Attorney and was living quite a great life. I always admired him, for he was the first in our family history to go to college. I suppose I could describe him as well, He was 25, a tall man, around 6'4, he was part of the Track and Field team during his time in High School, and continued to jog and join marathons, so he was quite fit. He had green eyes, which matched his short brown hair. Whenever he was not wearing a suit. He was usually in a polo shirt and jeans, wearing some branded pair of shoes as well. I walked by him and into the bathroom, and began the daily ritual of nearly drowning myself in water and soap to wake up. I suppose I could describe myself as well, I was around 5'8, short compared to the rest of my family, sporting brown hair as well and unlike the rest of my family, had heterochromia, which if you do not know, was a genetic condition that made my eyes have separate colours, which were blue and green. I was a rather average build kid, not as buff as a jock but able to hold my own if needed. Anyways back to the story. I had finished my shower when my sister knocked on the bathroom door.
"Hey, breakfast is ready, hurry up in there!"
I quickly grabbed my towel and opened the door, grinning at my sister, who simply waved to signal Get moving jackass. My sister Elaine was in college majoring in Forensics, fitting for a nosy sister(for the life of me I keep trying to remember the name of her college, but it always escapes my mind), but decided to take a year off to help me prepare as well. She had inherited most of mom's traits, her red hair and green eyes, she was quite slender (God knows I will not call her sexy or hot out of respect and family virtue) she also inherited Mom's pestering yet loving attitude, but for a 22 year old, she nagged me way too often. Sorry for wandering off topic, but it is always nice to remember family... but back to what was happening. I entered my room and grabbed whatever I could wear, which ended up to be I believe a blue jacket and some jeans. I ran downstairs holding on to a pair of sneakers. I was greeted by Dad and Mom sitting in the kitchen, doing such mundane morning actions that it almost seemed like I was in some sort of museum. I greeted them and hugged them, my dad simply smirked, and as usual my mom lectured me. They were basically older versions of my brother and sister, albeit if my brother was going bald and my sister started to have gray hair. They met when they were both in high school and stuck together ever since, which I have to say, from 16 to 45, that's true love. It was a regular breakfast as well, siblings messing around, parents laughing, listening to songs on that old radio dad had, well that was until the radio station suddenly announced something, something that would soon forever change the town of Kingston in a week.
