Fair River Forest is Haunted

The funeral was on Sunday.  It was a quick affair, officiated by Reverend Stryker, Fair River Forest's Baptist minister.  Most of the town came out for it, some out of genuine affections for the deceased, but most from morbid curiosity.  Fair River Forest has had its share of strange events, but none quite like this. The Howard sisters were holed up at home with Cam and Grace, avoiding the inevitable paparazzi, the interrogations.  Keith Howard would have gone to spit on the grave, but he was still laid up in the hospital. The wooden casket the reverend presided over was empty.  The sheriff's body had not been located, but there was enough evidence to presume him dead.  When Deputy Smith had searched the woods after receiving Grace's call, he had found the clearing that she had described.  Deep burgundy stains coated the grass near the entrance to the fallout shelter, and connected to that was a long, bloody streak that cut across the clearing, disappe...

Jane peered down into the opening in the earth.  Three faces stared up at her.  One was Willow's, her eyes red and puffy, no trace of makeup upon her face.  The second belonged to a girl of about nine who looked vaguely familiar, although Jane could not place her.  Her face was dry, but her eyes were wide and round, like an owl's.  The final face, set with red-rimmed eyes, was Cam's.  They were standing beside Willow, one arm around her shoulder.  Their hair had grown to reach their collarbone, but otherwise they looked almost the same as they had six years ago. "You're makin' a huge mistake," Sheriff Mitchell said.  "Sophie needs her big sis.  Are you really gonna turn your back on her?" "I said shut up," Grace said, her voice almost a snarl. Jane glanced over her shoulder.  Grace was standing with her gun aimed at the sheriff.  She nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on the sheriff all the while.  "I've got this," she said.  ...

"Sonofafuck!" Sheriff Mitchell howled.  His service revolver clattered against the door.  It fired, and the sheriff sank to the ground, clutching his abdomen with his unscathed arm as he cursed. Grace marched toward the sheriff, her rifle trained on him.  Jane's whimpers in the background melded with the howl of the wind, as though the forest itself was mourning along with her.  The pitiful sounds set Grace's veins alight, white hot rage fueling her feet forward. The sheriff fumbled across the grass, his fingers arching toward the glint of silver peeking out between the crumpled blades.  Grace kicked the gun aside, away from his reach. It was the sheriff's turn to hold up a hand.  Such a pathetic, useless gesture, Grace almost felt sorry for him.  But she thought of Jane, reduced to that helpless position, and her anger rose once more, vanquishing any softer emotions. "Look, Grace, I ..." Sheriff Mitchell started. "Give me the key," Grace said....

The moonlight pierced through the clouds, carving silhouettes from the darkness.  A man stood toward the center of the clearing, staring down at a set of double doors that looked like the sort that might lead to a basement or storm shelter.  Strings of profanities poured from his mouth.  Even without his wide-brimmed hat, Grace knew it was Sheriff Mitchell. Keith crept forward, into the clearing.  Jane leaned in toward Grace, her breath warming Grace's frigid cheek.  "We surround him," Jane said.  "You go around the woods 'til you're opposite where my dad is.  I'll go halfway between." Grace nodded.  She shoved her phone, which she had been using as a flashlight, into her back pocket, and unholstered her shotgun.  Her heart thundered in her chest as she inched along the edge of the woods.  Each leaf that caught beneath the soft soles of her boots blared in her ears.  Were the sheriff not cursing so loudly, he would hear them for sur...

Inside the woods, the night was as black as pitch.  Although the moon and a smattering of stars had been visible when Jane, Grace, and Jane's father, Keith, stepped from Keith's rusted out Chevrolet pickup, the dense canopy of foliage overhead blotted out the sky.  Shadows rose and fell in the two beams of light provided by Jane's and Grace's flashlights, darting between trees, scuttling beneath the withered brown leaves coating the forest's floor. "You two should be back at the car," Keith said, his muttered words barely audible over the howl of the wind and the crunching of leaves beneath the trio's feet. Jane shivered.  She tugged at the zipper on her down jacket, but it was already as high up as it could go.  "I thought you didn't believe us," she said, breath billowing from her lips in a frosty cloud. "I don't.  Sheriff's not that kind of a person.  But it's not safe out here." An owl hooted, its sound deep and ...

Jane and Grace were the only two people remaining on the Zoom call.  Their friends had bowed out when it became clear that no one had new insights regarding Willow's location.   Jane's eyes widened.  She smacked her palm against her desk.  "Sheriff Mitchell.  He must be the one who kidnapped Willow and Collin." "Why do you say that?" Grace said. "When I called him to report Willow missing, something felt wrong about the conversation, and I finally figured out what it was.  When I said Willow was missing, he said something like, 'Wasn't she out with her boyfriend?'  How would he know that?" "Maybe he saw them in the gardens," Grace said. "And he told me that he couldn't open a missing person case for 24 hours, but I hadn't told him what time she went missing." "I feel like it's pretty common for people to call the sheriff sooner than 24 hours, though.  That one could be a guess." "It has to ...

From the police interview with Francine Howard, the night Willow went missing seemed perfectly ordinary, but I suppose those ordinary nights are where most of the trouble begins.  On August 15th, 2020, Willow joined her mother and sister for supper at around five - an early meal in the Howard household, but Willow had requested it, and Francine "saw no reason not to oblige her."  Willow was in good spirits that evening, chattering away about the photo shoot she was going to do with Collin, and all the likes she was expecting to get on Instagram.  She loved feeling beautiful, but the feeling was fleeting, one she constantly needed to stoke by producing new photos for her small band of internet admirers to fawn over. Collin arrived around five thirty, as the family was finishing their dinner.  Willow invited him in, but he said he would wait on the porch until she was ready.  There was nothing unusual about that either; the chill of Francine's glare can be nearl...

For an audio version of this post, click here . Late last night, some of Willow's Instagram followers noticed that her account had posted a story.  If you're not familiar with Instagram, a "story" is a temporary picture or video, which usually lasts for twenty-four hours.  The story contained a video message from Willow herself.  I've included it below, but I will warn you that some may find the video disturbing due to the distress Willow appears to be in while recording.  If that sounds like too much, then you may want to skip over it. Moments after the video appeared, news of its existence had reached every corner of the town.  Folks don't know what to make of it.  Some are saying that this is further evidence of a publicity stunt.  After all, Willow was all about acting in high school.  Besides, if she had access to a phone, why would she wait weeks before making her call for help?  But most people, especially those close to her, a...

For an audio version of this post, click here . Before we move on to the fourth disappearance, I thought I should give you an update on the current situation.  The Fair River gossip mills have been running on overdrive ever since Grace's blog post reached the eyes of Jane Howard.  The email, from an account with a name that appeared to be a random string of letters and numbers, had the subject line "About Willow" and the body of the email contained only a link to the blog post.  Most folks know better than to click on mysterious links from unknown email addresses, something Grace should have considered before sending it out.  Jane knew better too, but I suppose she was willing to take her chance with computer viruses if it meant she might find a shred of evidence about her older sister's disappearance. Seeing the photos of Willow only raised more questions.  Most important among them was, how had the police missed such a crucial piece of evidence?  Jane...

For an audio version of this post, click here . Our third Fair River resident to go missing was five-year-old Hailey Jackson, who vanished on April 25th, 2016.  According to the police report, her ten-year-old brother, Greg, had been tasked with watching her and her three-year-old sister Bailey while their mother, Melanie, "ran to the store."  In reality, Melanie had an appointment with Dr. Everett for some "troubles" she'd been having, and she didn't want to worry the kids by bringing them along.  Plus, they were never any good in the waiting room. While Melanie was out, the sisters got into a fight.  Bailey had taken Hailey's favorite toy, a raggedy plush cat Hailey had named Gold Eyes.  When Hailey saw Gold Eyes in her sister's clutches, she snatched the cat from Bailey's hands.  Bailey started bawling. Greg scolded Hailey for making their sister cry, and Hailey stormed out of the room, Gold Eyes in tow.  Greg would recount in his statem...

For an audio version of this post, click here . I feel I must warn you our next story you may find disturbing, in a way that differs from our other posts so far.  It is the depth of human cruelty on display here that makes this tale so jarring, instances of bullying and harassment which are all too commonplace.  I thought about omitting Cam's backstory and going straight into their disappearance, but it's hard to understand their motive for going into the woods without having a grasp on the bigotry they faced day in and day out. Where Norma Crawford's disappearance was met with shock and lamentations about the unfairness of her fate, fifteen-year-old Cam Summers's vanishing four years later received no such outcry.  There was, of course, a general sentiment in town that it was a shame for a child to vanish, but these remarks were made in passing, the sort of vague platitudes that one feels compelled to say in light of a tragedy.  Words no more substantial than th...

For an audio recording of this post, click here . Now look, I know you may be wondering what's so special about two disappearances.  Two people go missing from a city, and hardly anyone bats an eye.  But you know how many people have gone missing from Fair River over the past decade?  Seven.  Seven people from this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. Norma Crawford was the first.  She was reported missing by her husband on June 11, 2010.  The news clipping I have here on her disappearance says she was, "An avid churchgoer and sixteen-time winner of Fair River's Fourth of July pie contest."  Happily married to her high school sweetheart Ned, who told the paper, "Norma is my everything.  I don't know how I'll go on without her."  Age sixty-seven at the time of her disappearance. Scan of the newspaper article. Gone in broad daylight.  According to the police report, she was hanging up the wash when her husband Ned le...

For an audio version of this post, click here . I've taken the liberty of copying Grace's blog post.  What follows is her creation: There's something wrong in Fair River Forest, the woods that surround the town where I live.  I've felt that way ever since my family moved here, but it wasn't until I found the camera that I had the proof to back up what I've been thinking all these years.  Once you see the pictures, you'll understand. There's this little garden that borders the edge of the forest.  A few days ago I was walking along the edge of the pond, which is toward the back of the garden, when I saw a decent camera lying by some trees at the end of the garden.  I hadn't been that far back before because that's where the garden meets the woods, but I didn't want the camera to get ruined, so I walked over to pick it up. As I was walking toward the camera, I saw something shiny beside it, a sparkly black high heel.  There was a se...

Welcome to Fair River, Maine: population 353.  Well, 351 now.  If you're driving down the lone paved road, Fair River seems as quaint as any other small Maine town, but there's something different here.  You can feel it as you near the edge of the woods that surround the town.  The atmosphere seems heavier, the shadows longer.  The air is colder there, cool enough to raise goosebumps on your arms no matter the season.  I suppose every town has its place where you never feel quite right, but like I said, it's different here.  You'll see. I'd like you to meet Willow Howard, a local college student, aspiring model, and Fair River's most well known resident, at least according the number of followers she has on Instagram.  If you've been keeping up with the local news, you might've seen pictures of her and her boyfriend Collin Phillips a couple of weeks back after they up and went missing one night. The sheriff says maybe Willow ran off with Co...