It was a peaceful morning this December 22, 1999. Everyone was getting ready for "The Turn of The Century" but I didn't really think it was a big deal. I was getting ready to head home from the station just as the phone rang: typical. It was the 911 operator saying that it had happened again. I thought it was a big joke but she continued to tell me the address. I took a big breath in. "Damnit." was all that could I could bare.
It was the sixth time this year and it was the same scene every time: a scrap of paper near the door labeling the victim with their blood dripped on it. They were lying on their back in the middle of either their bedroom or the living room surrounded by a circle of salt with a prick on their left thumb. But that wasn't the only strange part. All of their skulls we're screwed opened with nothing inside but a bloody stem.
In this tiny little town of mine, it is believed that each victim creates their own doom by acting out some sort of ritual. The legend of "The Hat Man" goes back since before my parents were born. I, Detective Alice Reagan, choose to believe otherwise.
YOU ARE READING
The Hat Man
Misterio / SuspensoThis short-story was based on the Creepypasta: The Midnight Man. I, of course, gave it quite a twist. Will Detective Reagan solve the Hat Man mysteries? Or will she become one of the victims before she can help?
