Blue skies, apple pies.

The murders started before i was born and stopped before i was old enough to know about them.

It was a picturesque day as i headed off to the scavenger hunt, and beads of sweat had coated my skin within minutes of leaving the house. I was walking my usual route, past the bakery. I was fond of the little shop, owned by an Elderly widow i had befriended. She was a sweet lady, and she treated me like family, It was no secret that i enjoyed her company as much as she did mine. I had done my best to help Bill Conner when he had suffered a heart attack one day when i was lending a hand with deliveries. I had gone through all the motions my nine year old brain knew of, but he had taken his last breath in front of me.

The sheriff's department gave me an honorary badge for my bravery, but i cried my heart out for Mrs Conner.

I grew up graced by blue skies and rolling hills as far as the eye could see. I inhaled the purest air and had more adventures than any of the heroes in my story books. My childhood was spent exploring my surroundings with the kind if winder and imagination that can only come from innocence. As i grew, my attachment to this town never wavered. I only appreciated more so the blanket of comfort it had always draped around my shoulders. Each year my Grandma and i would do scavenger hunts. We had so much land around us that often we would be out until sunset. She never stopped this ritual, even when she could probably have done without it.

I was tired when i reached the clearing, i huffed to myself thinking how i should have bought my truck. For my fifteenth birthday, my Grandma had gifted me a Chevy. Every friday since has been spent down at the lake with my flavour if the week, listening to Johnny Cash and watching the sun set behind the mountains as our lips met each others.

I began the hunt in the same place i always did each year. Near the crossing where little Ellie Marcy was flung through the air like a crash dummy by that drunk driver. Whenever i hear a twig snap in winter i can't help but shudder thinking about her bones crunching.

The clues Grandma left me had started simple and guided me to the orchard, digging around near some trees. From there i was led to the churchyard, to a spot not far off from where all of the girls were now resting, and after a few more stops i arrived back at the clearing in the woods. I was metres away from where the first body was found mutilated and swinging from a tree. There were seven bodies found in total. All women. All killed by asphyxiation. Each one stabbed prior to death. The killer left no evidence at any of the crime scenes, but i never understood how he wasn't caught in a small town like this.

I made a few stops amongst the greenery, following her riddles to a giant tree i thought might be my end point.
I was excited to find my treasure and eagery started poking around the tree for information. I found the coordinates nestled between a piece of loose bark. My trusty compass was needed at this point, only the son of a bitch wasn't there. I must have dropped it along the way somewhere. I retraced my steps back a little before i realized i was looking for a needle in a haystack.

I was pissed off to say the least, and not about to head home empty handed and admit defeat. I decided to search around the area and see if any ground looked tampered with, but it all looked the same. With a mixture of frustration and determination, i picked a spot and started to dig. I wasn't even sure if i was remotely close to whatever Grandma had left me, but i wasn't going to go home without anything..

I was the apple of my Grandma’s eye. She taught me how to be a man, how to skin an animal and how to hunt the wildlife. Her wisdom had infinite value to me. She was fierce and straight talking and we have always been partners in crime. I had only ever seen my Grandma clam up a few times. Once when i asked her about Old Jackson. The second time was when i asked her about the murders.

We would spend the summer evenings sat out on the porch, eating apple pie and drinking real lemonade through a straw. Watching the animals was my favourite part of growing up, and my eyes would light up to see nature at work. I once saw a wolf rip the head clean off a rabbit. For a moment i thought i was going to vomit all over the floor but regardless, i watched with grim fascination.

Even as a child i was most interested in how animals acted on instinct. Kill or be killed, fight or flight. I liked that. Like me, my Grandma had a passion for wildlife. At dusk, she would hand me my Grandaddy’s binoculars and perch next to me with hers, steaming hot chocolates in hand as we watched the night come alive.

I spent a lot of time around women. My daddy left us when i was a little boy. I don't remember him much, and i don't really care to. I have one photo of him that my Momma gave me. Gold teeth, gold watch. Glinting in the sunlight as he pulled my Momma to his side.

“Hanging naked from the bridge, two of them together, swaying there in the wind all cut up. Apparently he liked to carve angel wings into their backs. God, imagine seeing that when you're driving to work on a monday.”
I was hanging around the park when i first heard real information about the murders. Some older kids were gossiping by the swing set. I didn't think too much of it at the time but it must have stuck with me because i still remember exactly how it sounded. He had that sick tone of excitement we humans get sometimes when discussing the darker side of our natures.

People were fearful. I tried to relate to that growing up but i had always felt so safe here. I never felt afraid. Not when that wolf ripped thats rabbits head of right in front of me. Not when Louise Jackfield jumped from the sixth floor and i saw her head split like a wood under an axe. Not even when Aaron Walker had a psychotic break and smuggled a gun in his backpack to school.

I carried on digging, tossing dirt out of the ground at a furious pace. I was about to give up and head home when i hit something i was sure would turn out to be a huge rock. I really wasn’t hoping for much until i saw that familiar flicker of light that only comes from gold. I had never found anything gold before, usually it was just some old coins that belonged to my Grandma,or sometimes stuff my Grandpa had in the war. My Grandma had outdone herself this time and i was eager to reach into the soil and unearth my prize.

Gold watch, Gold teeth. Glinting in the sunlight and nestled among an assortment of distinctively human bones. I didn't scream like in the movies. I just stood there, mouth agape and wondering what the hell my next move should be. Do i tell my Grandma? Or the police? I kicked a little soil back over so i wasn't staring at the stark reality of it, and tried to collect myself.

The murders were a sickening crime wave that rocked our town like nothing before it. We kids heard snippets of information despite our parents and grandparents being reluctant to talk of the events during that time. The fact that nobody had ever been caught had encouraged countless urban legends or hiding monsters, and violent maniacs lying low in the dense forests.
The police didn't have a clue who the perpetrator was. Im sure city cops would have had a team of experts on the case, and maybe they would have found someone.Our town just didn't have the manpower for that. After five hellish years it stopped as it started, and became a cold case buried in the archives.

I think the first time you receive news that really changes your reality is the closest we can ever get to zombies. Something that is both alive and dead simultaneously,

I made it back to Grandma’s somehow, although i felt i'd left something back there and it gnawed at me. I think it was the last shred of my childhood. I opened the gate to my Grandma's yard, and the smell of cut grass made memories swarm like bees. I relished the warm feeling of nostalgia, reminiscent of resting beside a roaring fire when you're frozen to your bones. I allowed this feeling to carry me towards the looming front door ahead.

I let the door shut gently behind me. My Grandma was sat at the table, pouring over some books. Small talk seemed to be a lost art on me and the words tumbled out before i could process the reality of them.
“I found a body. Down by the orchard..”
There we have it. It's out now. In all of its disgusting absurdity.
“Ok. Ok. Why don't you sit down, honey?” she patted the seat beside her as if we about to catch up on our day. I did take a seat. I worried that if i didn't my legs may give out beneath me.
“Do you know who it was?” Her panicked eyes searched my face, and my gentle nod was received with a sigh of complete and utter sadness.An emotion my Grandma showed me rarely.

“I should have been more God damn careful. My memory, it's not what it used to be. I didn't mean to send you down there you know.”
She met my gaze and while i understood what she was trying to say, it wasn’t quite enough.
“What do you mean, Grandma?”
I managed to keep my voice level, even though i could have bubbled over from curiosity, and surging, sickening adrenaline.

“I don't want you to hate me, my boy, I don't. I hope you know that i would never keep secrets from you if they weren't worth keeping. I hope you know that.”

I did know that.
I remembered when Old Jackson from the next town over was found dead in his cow shed. Heart attack, she told me. I only heard about all the blood from my friends. I found out what a peadophile was, and what group mentality was much later.
I understood why she never told me.

“Your daddy was a nasty son of a bitch, and he didn't belong here in this world. I saw evil in his eyes when your mother first brought him home, i knew he had a soul as dark as the devils. He took my baby from me and turned her snow white skin purple.”
She looked at me with a pain in her eyes i had only seen once before, when little Ellie Marcy’s mother locked eyes with me on that ferociously hot afternoon. It was just two days after her baby had been ploughed down on the crossing where she stood. She tried to scrub that blood for weeks, like if it disappeared then it never happened to begin with.

“I have never felt hate like that before. Your momma was as stubborn as the sun is hot though, she wouldn't listen to me. We feel out real good me and her. I could have slapped her silly for her stupidity.”
She let out a long breath and cupped my chin with her hand.
“But she is my baby girl, so let her be and i kept a close watch like you know i do”
There wasn't much in this entire town that got past my grandma.

“But then the murders started and i got worried about her being away from home. Then she got pregnant with you and i knew he would get his claws in real good. I just had this feeling something was brewing. Something awful.”
I knew that feeling, and i knew my Grandma had a sixth sense for trouble. We had lodgers one year when Grandma was trying to make a little extra cash for the summer. They were only here for two nights before they left with bloody noses.

“People gossiped in this town, and everyone use to talk about how your daddy couldn’t have kids. It made him real mad to be the subject of rumours. When your momma got pregnant some folk were saying this and that about someone else doing his job for him and him not being a real man. More than a few men ended up in hospital and everything died down eventually, but the damage was done,”
I was starting to gather a clearer image of my daddy than i'd ever had before, and i was ashamed to share his blood.

My grandma shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“I knew your momma loved that man, Lord knows why but she did. She was faithful to him like i am to christ.”

She raised the gold cross around her neck to her lips and planted a soft kiss in the centre.

“Then one night, not long before you had arrived, your momma was asleep in my guest room and she hear a racket in the yard. She thought we were being robbed. She caught your daddy creeping on the back of my land here. He was covered head to toe in blood. I remember it dripping into his eyes and he just stood there, laughing like a maniac at the two of us. He put his hands on my baby girl one last time and i emptied your granddaddy's shotgun into the goddamn devil himself”

She caressed the cross between her fingers.

“We buried him, your momma and i. Buried him and his secrets and we don't speak of it no more.”
She paused to let me digest this image, of my own father covered in some poor girls blood and battering my pregnant mother on my grandmother’s land. It wasn't very digestible and i felt my stomach lurch.

My mind went to the talks around town, all those legends we talked of around crackling camp fires as we laughed and roasted marshmallows. I thought of those girls, and my own mother who almost became one,
“Why didn't you tell anyone about what he did?” I managed to choke out, the weight of the situation suddenly bearing down on me.

“We made a pact, that night. Giving you a normal like was worth more to us. It might be selfish and it might well be a sin but you had a childhood without stigma. There were no ghosts in your closet. He was a monster, and the only good thing he gave to this earth was you. You are worth all of it. “

She squeezed my hand, and i squeezed back.

I agreed in my heart. I felt sadness in my entire being. I also felt a strange sense of closure i didn't know i had been looking for.

The oddest feeling though was one of sudden understanding.
I understood where i can from.
I understood why i never felt afraid.

I understood why, when listening to Johnny Cash and locking lips with my flavour of the week, i always had to fight the urge to wrap my hands around her throat.