The Hemlock III

Hey, it's Ezra.

         Sorry for cutting things short last time but I thought for sure somebody had found out about my record keeping and was coming to shut my shit right up.

         I was wrong thank god, it was just the wicker cult. They weren't actually trying to tear the door down as much as they were throwing rocks and shit at it.

          See, like I said in the last post; I've had plenty of run-ins with these nutjobs. Pretty sure that wimbley barn girl was possessed by something they released in one of their little rituals and it wouldn't surprise me if that bitch that had eaten my dog wasn't one of their little projects too.

            Anyway, so yeah about a week ago I'm helping Ralph kinder take a couple of hogs to slaughter, its that time of year and he's been a friend of mine and was my deputy the entire time I was sheriff.

          But I digress, we load up the hogs and we are going down Baker road. Its not real a road, but the town thought it was easier back in the day to give the old dirt logging roads names than to actually pave the damn things.

          Anyway, we round this bend and there's two of these nutjob fuckers dragging a body across the road and into the overgrown field. To top it off we almost hit the bastards. So Ralph slams his breaks and jack knives the truck. The trailer full of hogs swings around and hits the side of the truck and does who knows how much damage. So at this point its safe to say we are both madder than fuck.

       I always carry a 45. On my person just in case someone or something tries to take a bite out of me or my wallet. So I jump out and point it at the wickermen and yell "don't fucking move one step!"

       Of course they ignored me so I unloaded a round off passed their heads. I think they just about shit themselves, because at this point they drop the dead body and put their hands in the air.

          So here I am, pointing a gun at two cultists while Ralph is checking on the truck and hogs, while a corpse lays in the road. Pretty fucked up right?

           Well, come to find out; (after Marcus Teller drove down the road and saw what was happening, and took off and retrieved the current sheriff) these nutjobs were in Mrs. Turner's field setting up one of their wicker goat heads to burn as some type of ritual when she came out back and shot into the group. Killing one. They were actually dragging their cult buddy away from the property when we barreled into the situation.

         In my defense, these wackjobs don't speak often. So we had no way of knowing that the person wasn't a murder victim until the sheriff checked his messages the next day. So obviously the body was confiscated at the time.

          All of this horse shit led to my house getting assaulted by rocks. Enough ranting about that though. It's been three days now and after a flash of my gun, they scattered like cockroaches anyway.

       What I really want to speak to you about is something that's been really eating at me recently..

       See, back in December of 2001 I received several calls about a man who had been spotted standing out at the end of people's driveways. Now normally this sort of thing would just be a misunderstanding and a passer-by admiring a tree or something but these homes are very scattered. Isolated and rural even. It's very hard to show up to someone's driveway out here without someone noticing a car, let alone 3 properties miles apart. And he just.. Stood there, in a circa 1960s gray trenchcoat from what the reports said. No discernable features either. Just. Black sockets. People were too far away to actually know for sure but they described them as actually empty.

           When Rosaline Thompson called us out to her fathers farm, I caught a glimpse of him. He stood at the edge of the drive way and as I pulled up he started walking away. I rolled down the window and asked him what he was doing but he ignored me like there wasn't a squad car almost bumping him in his ass. So I threw the car in park and looked away just long enough to open my door. Literally that long. And he vanished. Which I'm going to he honest, blew my fucking mind. I mean, the Thompson farm has no structures or wooded area for over a mile. And fucking poof.

           So since my last post I've been catching glimpses of this man who I've taken to calling ghost. And he showed up late last night at my window.. I was sitting here at my desk and I glanced up from my tax sheet and bam he was right there. And I still couldn't see any features.

Just black.

Eyes.

But it scared the shit out of me.

          Before that I was fishing in a stream I like to visit further up the mountain and had been at it all day, the sun had just dipped behind the mountain and I was packing up my tackle when I glanced across the stream and there he was just fucking staring at me from the tall grass. This time around though I saw a gaping black hole where a mouth should've been. I reached for my gun but guess what happened? Yep, just fucking disappeared.

          Anyway, I'm going to end this for now. If anyone has any idea what ghost actually is please let me know so I can catch the creep.

This is Ezra, signing off.