So, some of you may remember my post a little over week ago talking about my aunt’s remains and the strange circumstances surrounding them. If you didn’t, you can find that post here.
While there’s still no real development on that front, my mom did manage to get a key to Auntie Lin’s trailer from her former assistant, who’s some small, kind of beady-eyed guy with glasses bigger than his face named Shawn. I guess he’s the new manager, but he’s left Lin’s trailer alone.
Apparently, mom knew the guy, because he was really nice to her and handed her the key without even thinking twice. Probably not the best move for a criminal investigation, but, whatever. Works out better for us.
After they caught up (and they had a fifteen minute talk about me and my big brother, Kurt, and about my mom’s divorce, which was really annoying. Like, couldn’t this have been a Facebook messenger conversation?), my mom finally took us to Auntie Lin’s trailer.
I’d never seen it before. For some reason, even though I’ve always been told about her, I’ve never actually been taken to where she lived. Something-something-something about my mom not being ready, or whatever. I understood and respect the core of her reasoning and never really pushed.
It’s strange, seeing something you’ve seen in nothing but ancient Polaroids all your life actually stand in front of your eyes.
But besides that, it’s a cute little thing. Pink, with grandma-like floral curtains shielding the inside from the rest of the world hanging over the windows. Old, sure. It looks like it’s sustained a little bit of wear and tear since its creation in the early 70’s.
Very absent was the presence of the ancient green 80’s Chevy Silverado that had been present in almost all of my mom’s old stories about my aunt, and I could tell with one look at her face that it stuck out like a missing thumb to her, too.
Even worse, standing in front of the trailer, just knowing that something really bad probably happened to my aunt, and that this was likely the last place she ever was before she ended up in that valley really made me feel the tragedy in my guts. Not just the sadness my mom feels, but also the abject horror that the unknown carries with it.
What the hell happened to Auntie Lin?
I tried to put on a brave face, but thankfully, Kurt spoke up for me. “Jesus, this place gives me the fucking creeps.” Spoken like a true empath, Kurt. But I agreed with him.
Kurt’s kind of edgy. Well, ‘kind of’ doesn’t really cut it.
He’s, like, a full-on black metal dude. He shows up at the breakfast table every morning, bright and early at 7 AM, completely decked out head to toe in corpse paint and with his hair into a braid with fake barbed wire in it, ready for first period AP Calculus.
If he wasn’t my brother, I’d say it was even a little cool. So to see him creeped out over the trailer at least made me feel a little bit better, because he was a little skeeved out, too.
But there wasn’t any time to sit around and dilly-dally. We came to clean out her trailer and see what would be allocated to various family members and what would be donated. MY goal of scanning for any secret clues was my own mission was just an added side quest.
Turns out, it was a fruitful one, too. In one of the storage units of Auntie Lin’s seat compartments, I found this hug stack of typed out papers. Real nice, too; and fresh. The pages were yellowed or dusty, and I could tell that this kind of quality came from a modern printer, like the ones in my mom’s office.
BUT FUCKING WAIT. I snuck it in my bag to take home with me so I could read it by myself, and I’m so fucking glad I did, because IT’S MY AUNT’S JOURNAL ENTRIES. The first one starts in 1988 and I’ll admit, I peeked ahead, just to the date of the newest one.
It was dated a little over six months ago; aka, the day Auntie Lin’s body was found.
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
But if my aunt went missing in 1998, and it’s currently 2024, who the hell put this here? Better yet, WHO THE HELL WAS WRITING THEM? Again, another HUGE WHAT THE FUCK?
I know she’s dead. We got the DNA results back. We got the things that were in her pockets back. It WAS her in that valley. Wasn’t it?
So who in the motherfuck is this????
I’m sorry if you feel like I’m just throwing all this information in your face and bombarding you all with it, but to be honest, that’s what it’s felt like for me, too. I wish I could be more eloquent about this stuff, but I seriously am at a fucking loss for words.
Is it fucking Shawn? That guy’s eyes gives me the heebiejeebies. I don’t like him. And THIS makes me not like him even more. Who the hell plays this sick joke on a murder victim’s grieving family? What the hell. And even the part where it could’ve been her writing it, the first entry is weird as hell.
Apparently my aunt was a fucking cryptozoologist hobbyist? And no, not like bitcoin and stuff (I already googled it). Like, bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. Like…well, I’ll just let you read for yourself. Mom never said anything about that, so I’m a little confused on if this is real or not.
The pages are bound together like a book, and it has a dedication and everything, so I assume that it’s some sort of manuscript of her entries? I’ll transcribe the pages into pdf format for you guys. If I get any more updates, I’ll post here again. But I’m completely. Lost.