There is a legend in this town as in many. But there is some truth to it. A monster struck a small southern town like a thief in the night and something happened many years ago. Not much is know by the current generation, which includes me. What is known is something happened and a life was taken. and a young girl was chosen for an unknown reason.
I first heard of the tale when I was ten. It was at a birthday party and we were trying to scare each other and act tough. I told them about Bloody Mary, who my brother had told me about. One of the other boys told me it was fake. Being ten, I told him he was a scaredy-cat. He replied, “I'm not scared, I've been to the old water tower!” I asked him what he meant when his aunt came and silenced him. The next school day, he told me that he wasn't allowed to talk to me anymore.
By age fourteen, I was obsessed with horror movies. It was my own way to rebel. The Zero Tolerance Policy made it a crime to even discuss scary movies out loud. I met a girl named who shared my interests. We would talk for ages about my favorite sub genre, the slasher film. Something about people being plagued by killer bent on destruction just struck with me.
One day, as we were walking down the hall, it happened. We were talking about hauntings and ghosts. I told her I didn't believe in the supernatural, nothing is more evil or cruel than humans in general. She said, “You won't believe that if you go to the water tower”. It all came back to me. Now I could finally ask what happened. Unfortunately we just entered the classroom and the teacher rudely cut our conversation short. The day couldn’t have gone by slower. Each second, a minute and each minute, an hour.
I finally got to speak to her on the bus. She told me that she didn't know much but she had looked into it. In the 1950's, the water tower was used during the coal boom in our town. But it was shut down after only five years of operation. Some teenagers went to the tower at night. One of them had studied the dark arts and summoned a demon. They were all found dead and the town has grieved ever since.
I wouldn't have been more disappointed. What a cliched story. I was so anxious for so long, only to be told every paranormal story ever. I mockingly asked if people hear voices on the anniversary of the incident. She got offended and we didn't speak much for the rest of the bus ride. I suppose I should have known how serious people take urban legends, but I was only a Freshman in high school.
We continued talking like it never happened, I made sure never to bring it up. It wasn't worth hurting her feelings again over a ghost story. Especially such an unorginal one. A few weeks later though, the tale would become my obsession again.
It was a Monday and I had plans to go the rec center. Not that I work out mind you, but there's an arcade. During my last class, my teacher was called and seemed worried. He announced that we were to go directly home, ruining my plans. I got onto the bus, Tiffany was in tears. I was very hesitant but finally got the nerve to ask what had happened.
Her friend Samantha had wondered near the water tower to take photos of the place. When she got into the tower, she was attacked and killed. I was in shock, I couldn't believe someone I had seen, someone I had known was killed. I decided I had to see this place of terror.
The next few weeks were nothing but grief and despair. Everyone was so distant. In a small town, something like this was never heard of. There may be an occasional shooting or stabbing, but this was different. According to local gossip, a pentagram and a quote was written in blood. “Revelation, Revolution, I see through your Christ Illusion”. Lyrics from the Slayer song “Cult”. Morbid as it was, my shock became curiosity.
Someone was surely using the legend of the demon to strike fear into the town. After all, anyone from the 1950's, much less a demon, surely wouldn't be into bands like Slayer. I decided not to ask or tell anyone that I was going to the water tower. I considered telling Tiffany, but it felt too soon.
After school, I walked instead of getting on the bus. I told my parents I was going to the Rec center. I brought my laptop and some pepper spray I bought from the local gunstore. It took nearly an hour but I finally made it. The place looked old and decaying. Even though the police were here weeks ago, it looked frozen in time.
I walked into the bulding. Glass, dirt and god knows what else covered the floor. There was always something about buildings like this that I liked. I walked around amid the graffiti and trash to the stairway. As I walked to the second floor, I became tense. I was seeing the sights that a classmate had seen before she died. There was three large rooms and two small ones. Samantha had died in the smallest one closest to the window. I walked there, expecting police lines or something to that nature.
The room was covered in dirt like the rest of the place. I saw the stains of blood on the ground. It looked so weird yet natural. I walked into the room and sure enough, there is was. The bloody pentagram. The smell was something else. Even with a broken window providing fresh air, it was foul. I don't know what I was trying to prove but I decided to prove it and leave as soon as I can. I got out my laptop. I sat my case on the dirt covered floor and placed the pc on top of it. After minutes turned into hours, I opened the webcam app and set a timer to take a photo. I stood by the bloody pentagram.
As the photo was being taken, I couldn't help what I was feeling. Here I was, standing by my classmate's blood, doing something that most would consider morbid and I felt nothing. Why was I doing this? If anyone saw this photo, I would be sent off until I was eighteen. People would call me a monster, Tiffany would-
I heard the noise. The deed had been done. There was no point in arguing with myself now. I quickly thought of a reason behind it should I be questioned. I wanted to prove there was no demon. I wanted to stand where she stood and show that nothing happened to me. I quickly grabbed the laptop and set on the dirty ground, careful not to touch the blood.
I saw the photo I had taken, but something wasn't right. The angle was different. It was as if someone had stood outside the room when it was taken. My mind went blank for a bit. How could this be? When I realized, this isn't my photo. The photo was simply named “Verdogoth”. It was of a girl laying on the ground, Samantha. She had one stab mark in the stomach. The pentagram looked fresh and there was six candles lit behind her. The quality was still grainy but much better than my webcam. Like it came from a decent camera. Like hers.
What could I tell people? Who will believe me? I could see myself being interrogated over this. How could I explain myself? Surely I was dreaming. I looked and saw that the photo was still her. I would have to explain it. Surely someone would believe me. I must have been set up. I was in class when she died, I couldn't have done it. And the candles. Nobody knew about them. She must have brought them for some ritual. She must have called it.
It was her fault. She shouldn't have disturbed whatever lurks in this town. And she paid for it. Though hard to see, her eyes looked so lifeless, yet so haunting. The more I look at the photo, the more I admire it. I now know the true beauty of what happened. I do not know what is in this town. But even though I have hidden it most of my life, I am actually just like it. I accept that now. I hear something outside.
Tiffany... So you've come here as well to visit. I wonder. Will you see the beauty I have? Will your eyes look like hers? I should post this. This photo. It will show the world. It will obsess you...