When I started reporting on what we now call case #1 I had no idea what we had all stumbled upon. What I stumbled upon in rural Pennsylvania. Now that the site is back online and the truth is getting out I wanted to take a moment to tell you more.

You may have read my reporting on the bizarre cases that tore into a rural community. I found myself back in my family’s rustic cabin off Interstate 80. My dad had such a love for that rural farming community and wild lands. I was there myself taking a break and hoping to break writer’s block on a new novel.

Years of living in the aura of my father’s journalistic success. Not in a shadow by any means, but living to achieve accolades his level. My own writing career seemed stalled on novels that have made a living but have never broken through. I was taking time to reflect and read in my dad’s rustic cabin. A cabin with probably the best library of literature in this small farming valley.

After three or four weeks I had settled into a bit of routine and felt myself relaxing when it all unraveled. But as you know it was all shaken by a journey into detailing the first case that has been added to the Chronicle. It was clear there was some sort of outbreak —

September 7th, 2015

Wednesday night I sat at the truck stop as I did every Wednesday. My burger melt and fries night, sipping bad coffee, and sketching out story ideas.

I saw them sit down in a rushed kind of frantic energy. EMT on the back of two of their jackets. One on the left with the most ghostly look on his face had that typical bowl cut of Amish young men here. The other, a mid-twenties kid with a buzzcut. Ezekiel and Micheal.

“Dear god, father thou art in heaven…” Ezekiel paused and looked for the words and ultimately tried to look past the terror of what he had seen. “She, she, she was eaten. I think alive. Those weren’t animal bites. We all know animal bites.”

“Someone fucking tore into here with human teeth,” Micheal said in his semi-draw. That distinct draw was part of a dialect of rural Pennsylvania, different than the Pennsylvania dutch accent Ezekiel spoke with. “No shit. I swear to god. I swear someone tried or I guess did eat her.”

“Whoa, are you guys serious… Like you really think someone ate the old woman?” The third calmer-looking young man asked incredulously. “Like you dumb shits have never heard of a coyote or any shit like that?” He looked at them like they were morons.

“Look I’ve seen dogs and coyotes tear into shit. I’ve seen those kinds of bites on dead animals. Shit, I’ve seen all kinds of animals torn into and I’ve slaughtered plenty of pigs and deer.

This. This wasn’t that. Those bites were from a human. Like that round chunk out of toasted cheese. Right there in her guts. We went up there to check after Wayden shot her husband Bobby.

We patched up Wayden’s wrist too. That damn bobby bit him too. Said he came at him looking crazy and bit his arm before he shoved’em off. ” Micheal looked mad and confused as he went on.

“Wayden was a mess. He didn’t want to be treated. Showed us the bite but had a bandanna on it. Wayden said Bobby was some sort of doper. Damn Doper was crazy, dead in his eyes but kept comin’. Just kept comin’. Damn it! I had to shoot him, he told us.”

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