I had investigated a serious matter a few years back. It's been plaguing my mind ever since my last interview, seeing how it's so close to where I live. I feel as though the world should be aware.
All names have been changed for the sake of confidentiality.
(The following was collected from a letter that the owner agreed to let me post.
Please note that the owner did not create this letter.)
January 15th, 1999
My research cannot continue. As it turns out, the rest of the documents that I thought were still back at the ward have all been burned, along with the asylum itself. I have decided to turn to a new topic for my portfolio. I've talked to Mr. Langford about my project, and he told me that it'd be too difficult to continue without more solid evidence, seeing how I've only been able to gather just a few accounts and so little background about the mysterious cases.
It still races through my mind what could have happened to those people. I have the first files on my desk. The stories they tell creep me out. Maybe it's good that I end the research. I've never heard of anything so mysterious and unsettling... Anyway,? how is Washington? I hope you can come back soon, I miss you very much... Well, at least your grades are better. Hope you haven't been minding the letters, my computer has been down for the past month. I forgot to mention that to you. Well, I hope you're doing well, and I'll be thinking of you always, my love.
Love you always, [Geoff]
This was the oldest letter to Melanie I could find. I never knew who Geoff was. I only know that he was madly in love with a woman I will call Melanie, whom I interviewed at a mental hospital. She discussed with me what she saw on one particular night.
April 9th, 2007
I interviewed Melanie on this night. She told me of something that I could not believe at the time, but I listened to her story.
(This was taken from the conversation that I had with Melanie)
(December 24th, 2001, the date the event took place)
"It was the first time I had seen him [Geoff] in almost 3 whole years. He was acting what I believed to be strange, but I couldn't tell at that time. He was in a hurry, and that made me feel uneasy because I'd waited so long just to be with him again. I got to see him for what seemed like only 5 minutes before he kissed me on the cheek and hurried out the door. The last letter I received from him processed through my mind. He said that he was tired of waiting and that he needed to see me immediately. He called me earlier, and as he hung up, I heard him mutter something about "needing to get away". I thought of it as him needing to get from the airport to my home, realizing now that there were no sounds in the background other than what sounded like a low, ringing tone. I ran outside to catch him, and what I saw was something I can't unsee".
(Melanie broke down in tears as she finished that sentence. It took a long time to finally comfort her)
- Continuing where we left off* "Geoff was on the ground, backing away from some [a long pause] thing. It was tall, humanoid, pale in skin tone - what you COULD see of it's skin. It was bound in a straight jacket, and it was generating a wretched sound. It was like muffled screaming. The thing stared at me, and I stared back, about 25 feet away from each other, we "locked eyes" with each other for about 10 seconds. See my eyes? [she points to her beautiful, innocent, blue eyes] These eyes are scarred, scarred after staring at those [pause] Windows.
- Yes, it had a burlap sack over his head that was tied off at the neck. What I stared into were glass eyeholes that showed the inside of its head, which was only filled with blood. I could see that the blood was visible halfway past its "eyes". The top half of its head was just what I believed to be [short pause] empty. Those 10 seconds dragged me into hell, as I watched this thing stare back to Geoff, my sweet lover. I couldn't move. I could only watch as where the thing's mouth should be burst open like a blister and spewed out what seemed to be gallons of blood onto Geoff, and that sound he made that I told you about earlier evolved into a loud, horrid, constant screaming.
- The thing eventually stopped spewing blood, and its screams turned into maniacal laughing that sounded like a rock being repeatedly struck at an angle against sheet metal. Geoff started to rapidly develop huge blood blisters all over himself as the thing laughed at him. They blew up, and created huge holes in him. Geoff screamed as he quickly bled out.
- It wasn't quick enough, though. He died in vain. The thing began to lick up the blood. It had no teeth, but his tongue was so long [pauses, and starts to cry once again]. I ran as fast as I could into my house, and I watched it feast upon my only true love. I could barely breathe, I was so horrified. I didn't want to believe that it was real. I called the cops as fast as I could, but the thing managed to make its way into the dark road before they got to my house. They searched all around the town, but they couldn't find anything at the end of the long trail of blood that it left".
Melanie wept into her hands. I eventually calmed her down. She didn't talk as much for the duration of the time I had with her, but she managed to warn me about something.
"I saw it just last year, walking alongside the road around the mental institution near the Albertson's. I tried to get the cops to find him again, but it once again waddled into the darkness and escaped. I'm on suicide watch, but the people here [at the mental institute] are actually treating me well. I don't know how much longer I'll be here, but I hope that the thing leaves me alone forever. I can't handle living like this anymore".
I thanked her for her time, and exited the hospital. I promised to call her every so often, and gave her my number if she needed someone to talk to.
April 10th, 2007
I made a huge mistake. Curious to collect the record that Geoff had mentioned in his letter to Melanie, I looked at the address that Geoff had on his letter. I drove to Melanie's old house and, from my car, saw a figure in the window of her upstairs floor.
I'm done being a reporter.