Approximately three weeks ago, I became aware of peculiar letters being delivered to my doorstep by an unidentified sender. The first letter contained photographs of me inside my own home. Upon closer examination, it became evident that these pictures were taken from outside my windows, as evidenced by the muddy footprints and disturbed dirt surrounding the area. Naturally, I was extremely alarmed and promptly contacted the police. Unfortunately, since there were no prior incidents to provide them with any leads, they dismissed my concerns and labeled me as delusional. Despite setting up surveillance cameras in the following days, I discovered that I was still being photographed, but the culprit remained invisible on the footage. Strangely enough, the perpetrator seemed to be aware of my actions, as the day after repositioning the cameras to capture their presence, I received another letter. This time, the letter not only contained pictures of me sleeping, but also a chilling note.
The note read, “Hello Jason, it will take much more effort to locate me, and trust me, if you knew my identity, you wouldn’t want to find me. I possess intimate knowledge about you, Jason. I have been observing you for quite some time now. I am aware of the transgressions you have committed, and I hold the power to destroy you.”
Without hesitation, I immediately drove to the local police station and handed over the letter. However, by this point, I had already visited them numerous times, and it was clear that they held a negative opinion of me. They dismissed the note as a prank, suspecting that I was seeking attention since the handwriting on the letter vaguely resembled mine. Additionally, they assured me that the neighbourhood I resided in was perfectly safe, boasting one of the lowest crime rates in the world. Consequently, they concluded that whoever was behind these actions was most likely harmless. With their dismissal in mind, I returned home, attempting to convince myself that this person possessed no real knowledge about me and that it was merely a cruel prank orchestrated by a mischievous child from the neighbourhood. Nevertheless, I couldn’t shake off the paranoia, and my eyes constantly darted towards the window in my room, even though the curtains were drawn. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep, but what awaited me the next morning left me utterly horrified.
As was my habit, upon awakening, I proceeded to check the front door for any mail. To my surprise, I discovered a small package addressed to me. Bringing it inside, I eagerly tore it open, only to find a collection of photos spanning the past five years of my life. As I examined the pictures, my initial concern transformed into sheer horror. Among the images were depictions of me in compromising situations, such as being naked or sleeping with my ex-girlfriend, Jane. Accompanying the photographs were printed screenshots of manipulated text messages that incriminated me to a significant extent. Alongside this bundle of distressing materials was another smaller package, tightly wrapped, which included a note and an address.
The note stated, “Deliver this package to the specified address, or else I will expose these photos to your family, friends, and the entire town, revealing what a disgraceful person you truly are.”
Trembling with fear, I picked up the smaller package, which felt soft, wet, and rather squishy. Anxiously, I made my way to my car and drove to the designated address. After a two-hour journey, I arrived at a secluded village situated by a river and waited at the indicated location. Approximately twenty minutes passed before I spotted an imposing figure approaching my vehicle. Rolling down the window, I handed the package to the individual, who grunted in acknowledgment before walking away.
Afterward, I began to receive an increasing number of packages, each one larger than the last. Each package required me to drop it off at the same location and hand it over to the same man. This continued for about a week before it abruptly ceased. I anxiously awaited the arrival of the next package, but it never came. A sense of relief washed over me, and I decided to take a day off from work to celebrate this respite. Throughout the day, I mindlessly flipped through various TV channels until one news broadcast caught my attention. The filming location seemed vaguely familiar, but my curiosity quickly turned to horror as I read the headline.
“The body of a twenty-five-year-old woman identified as Jane Austin found dismembered in a river in Rocheport, Missouri.”