I work at a police station.
I’m not a police officer by any means. Hell, I’m not even a beat cop and I don’t think I’d be any good at it even so. I’m an introvert at heart. I enjoy keeping to myself without needlessly having to interact with people and when I landed this job as an archivist I couldn’t be any more excited. Hours upon hours with nothing else to keep me company but dusty old police files which the county council desperately wanted digitised.
It was like my own personal slice of heaven and I jumped at the chance.
Most people would find this job arduous and to some extent I suppose it is, but there’s something about the repetitiveness of the digitising files that becomes almost meditative and certainly very anxiety inducing.
Except the other day when I came across this one file that just wouldn’t be scanned. No matter what I tried it was like the technology just wouldn’t accept it and curiosity got the better of me.
For the purpose of maintaining confidentiality and to make life slightly easier to the next person that has to file and catalogue this, I’ve changed some of the names, but I’ve made some notes on abbreviations so that it’ll be easier to follow. Most of this seems to be a transcribed version of an interview between a detective and the suspect of a crime. Other bits of it seem to be parts of a written statement by the suspect himself, but I’ll try to make the distinction as clear as possible.
I have no idea why this particular file refuses to be digitised, but I figured maybe you guys can help shed some light on it?
Alright so, there are two main people in this interview:
DP: Detective Parker
S: Suspect
VO: Voice Over, There are occasionally moments in this when somebody interrupts the conversation and sometimes I don’t know exactly who those people are.
Now, I know you’re probably wondering what’s so strange about this file? It can’t be the first time things refuse to be scanned and you’d be right. It’s not necessarily the scanning that’s the issue, I should have been more clear about that. When I gave up on scanning them, I decided to read through the file and before you tell me, I know I’m not supposed to, believe me. But I did and I was curious so I looked up the place where everything happened and I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere online and in government records, there’s no record of this particular town ever existing and so I can’t help but to wonder what it’s doing in our archives?
So that’s why I’m asking you lot. Maybe you’ve heard something or maybe I’ve missed something obvious. Has anyone heard of a town called Rushing Rills?
TAPE 1: SIDE A
DP: I’m glad to see you up on your feet kid, we got a bit worried about you. I hear Sal brought you along for breakfast at Jimmy’s. They got great pancakes there.
S: Why aren’t you arresting me? I already told you it’s all my fault.
DP: Right, according to my partner you claim to be responsible for something terrible that happened a few years ago, but here’s what I don’t understand. I asked our archivist to look through our system and I can’t find anything about that incident.
S: That can’t be right. I was there, I know what happened!
DP: Alright, calm down. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes files go missing and back then records keeping wasn’t as efficient as it is today.
S: I just…need someone to know what happened, but nobody will listen! Nobody believes me and that’s exactly what they want.
DP: My ex-wife might disagree, but I’m a pretty good listener. It sorta comes with the job and if you want to tell me, I’m all ears, but you’ve got to start at the beginning so we have something to work with.
S: You’ll listen to me? To all of it?
DP: Every word. Start whenever you’re ready and don’t be scared to take your time. Sometimes memories take a while to jog if it’s been a while, but they’re never gone. They’re just hidden from us.
S: That’s how it starts. With a memory
~~
Memory is a strange thing.
There are things from our childhood that lights a warm and nostalgic fire inside us. We look back at those days with a remarkable fondness and are so often reminded of how prevalent the presence of innocence was in our lives. In those days, we only cared about beating the last boss in one of the SEGA megadrive games or finding that perfect spot to hide and smoke after school.
We recall those hot summer days as being endless and that our limits were only ever decided by our imagination.
There was nothing to stop us and the world was our playground.
In our case, the “world” was a small-town with about 5000 citizens in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. A place where the scorching heat of a summer’s day could turn the tarmac roads sticky and where the otherwise golden fields of barley became covered in delicate powdered snow during winter.
The ancient coniferous forest with its giant canopies turned into an unreliable and dangerous place during winter, but for us it was still utterly magical.
Most of those who lived in the smalltown had lived there for generations. Some of their ancestors were part of the early settlers who founded what was then a village several centuries ago.
Others, like my family and I, were labelled “outsiders” which is exactly what it sounds like: people who moved to the town without having any kind of previous familiar connection to it. In my family’s case, my mom got a new job as a headmistress at the local school and so we decided to make the move.
A fresh start.
Before our move, my family lived in a medium-sized city. We’ve never really struggled financially and I’m aware I’m extremely lucky in that regard, but our move was for a much simpler reason. My parents craved a change of environment and if I’m completely honest, I think mom and dad desperately wanted to raise their kids away from the pollution and noise of the city. In a place where we could live a long and healthy life away from the dirty and grey facades of apartment blocks.
They were right, to a degree at least. Living in the countryside brought with it a different kind of freedom that cities couldn’t match. There was a safety that came with living in a small community which meant my friends and I were free to do whatever we wanted. We could explore every untouched nook and cranny of the enormous forest and still be back home safe in time for dinner.
I guess you could say that my childhood was filled with the kind of memories you look back to with a smile on your face. Almost as if you can picture yourself being there again, inhaling every scent and listening to all the sounds.
There are, on the other hand, memories that would do best to stay hidden. Yet sometimes they still manage to resurface when you least expect it, like a trickle of electricity travelling up your spine in the moments when you’re supposed to feel safe.
I’ve tried everything to forget what happened that summer.
Therapy. Alcohol. Drugs. Even religion.
Nothing has helped.
Now I understand that the only way to give me some kind of peace of mind or “closure” is to tell you exactly what happened. I’ve chosen this forum because I can’t think of anywhere else I wouldn’t be viewed as anything but ‘crazy’ and believe me when I say I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.
This is a long story, but I can promise you that it’s going to be unlike any story that you’ve ever heard before.
-—–
There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about Rushing Rill. Just as the name suggests, the town was named after the small stream of water which made it possible for the early inhabitants to settle there. Local legend will tell you that, if you’re lucky, sometimes you can hear a song being sung by the women who used to do their laundry by the water.
Poppycock, obviously, but those were the kind of stories that the people of Rushing Rill grew up with. To them they were as real as the air we breathe.
Most people who lived in Rushing Rill worked for the local sawmill which contributed to a large portion of the town’s economy. Rushing Rill had everything a small town could ever need to keep themselves afloat and live a comfortable life which is exactly what mom and dad wanted for us.
~*~*~
It was one of those summer days that nobody was prepared for. The rays of the July sun pierced through the car window and stood high in the sky. It was so hot that if you left a chocolate bar in your pocket it would be a pile of goo in minutes and you’d spend the rest of eternity trying to get rid of the chocolate stains.
In other words, it was a bloody awful day for a long car journey. Dad didn’t count on so many other people deciding to escape the city at exactly the same time and spent most of the drive complaining about “city folks” as if we were any different from them.
“Mommy, I need to go pee.” my sister whined. Throughout the whole trip her and my little brother had been absorbed by a colouring book or my old gameboy colour
“Mamma, jag behöver gå på toa.” gnällde min lillasyster. Under hela bilresan hade hon och min lillebror suttit försjunkna i antingen en målarbok eller mitt gamla gameboy colour that was surprisingly still alive after all these years.
“Honey.” mom sighed, “I asked back at the gas station. Can you hold it until we’re there? It’s not long now.”
The sun caught the reflection of her eyes in the rearview mirror and made her amber eyes glimmer.
“No, I have to pee now.”
“I can park on the curbside.” dad said. He’d always been more patient than mom even though you’d never hear him admit it aloud. Not if he valued his life, at least. “We might as well take a quick break before the last leg. How about it at the back? We’ll stop here for 10 minutes.”
My little brother nodded although I was convinced he hadn’t heard a word because he was too focused on finding pokémon.
My younger siblings were fraternal twins, even though Ava is quick to let people know that she was born 5 minutes before Alfred and is therefore older. Even though they argue like siblings so often do, it was clear to everyone that Ava lived and breathed her role as the ‘older’ sister. Dad once told us that during a parent teacher conference, a teacher had said that not even the school bullies were brave enough to target Alfred because Ava was his constant guardian. According to the teacher, the last time the bullies had tried to target Alfred, Ava had given him one hell of a right hook and despite getting in trouble with mom and dad, I could tell they were a little proud.
“This place is stunning.” mom said while she stretched out and looked around. We truly were in the middle of the countryside surrounded by farming fields as far as the eye could see and an a massive forest whose tall canopies loomed over us like ancient guardians of something we didn’t quite have words for.
Obviously, we’d all been in the countryside before. Our grandparents had a cabin further north where we spent most of our school holidays and despite being “city folks” down to our very core, none of us were uncomfortable about being out in nature.
Yet, something about this was different and as I stretched out my legs at the side of the road and let my gaze wander the edge of the forest, I tried to understand why.
The late afternoon sun had begun to shift from its bright yellow colour, to various shades of red and purple as it always did during summer. Having to spend the last days of the holiday without my friends sucked, but I figured mom and dad thought it was good to have some time getting used to a new place and making new friends before school started. There were still a couple of weeks left until the beginning of term and I planned to enjoy every bit of it instead of immediately succumbing to the existential dread of being “the new kid”.
A sudden movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention and as I stared into the vast darkness of the forest, a giant shadow passed by. As quickly as it had appeared it was gone and I assumed it was just a hallucination after spending hours in a car.
Despite my certainty, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my gut made the hairs on my neck stand and I didn’t like it.
“Only half an hour left!” Dad announced when we were back on the road, “How about a housewarming pizza when we arrive?”
“I want Burger King!” Alfred complained
“I don’t think they have Burger King in Rushing Rills, sweetheart.” Mom explained and turned around.
“What? What about McDonald’s?”
“No, I’m sorr-!
Dad was barely able to finish his sentence before a deer came running from the woods and leapt out in front of the car. Everything happened so fast and even though Dad reacted quickly and hit the breaks, it was too late. The crash between the deer and our old Citroên only lasted a few seconds, but it still felt as though everything happened in slow motion
Ava screamed and Dad cursed louder than I’ve ever heard him curse before. The deer hit the car with a loud bang and I knew immediately that it was dead because there was no way any animal would survive that kind of impact.
For a while, we just sat there in silence to catch our breaths. I’d never been in a car crash before and the only thing I could think about was how it was nothing like TV depicted.
“Is everyone alright?” Dad asked, “Kids?”
“We’re okay.” I replied as calmly as possible, I didn’t want to scare my siblings. “I think Ava got a bit of a fright.”
“Oh sweetheart,” Mom reached back towards my sister, “Does it hurt anywhere?”
Ava shook her head and dried her tears, unlike her brother who seemed to be completely unaffected by the whole event.
“Did you see where it came from?” mom asked, “It was like it leapt from out of nowhere.”
“Maybe it’s hunting season?” Dad guessed even though mom and I both knew he knew nothing about hunting.
“We should do something.” Mom said, “I mean, we can’t just leave it here?”
“I think we need to call 911, but I’m going to have a quick look outside first.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“I need to see if the car took any damage. Why don’t you come with me, son?”
Mom looked at me and I could tell that she didn’t like this one bit, but she remained calm and collected for our sake. Guided by a morbid curiosity, I removed my headphones and stepped out of the car. Dad knelt down and mumbled something inaudible about insurance phone calls and then he turned to the deer that was lying on the ground. Its otherwise brownish red fur was covered in almost black blood and the smell was nearly unbearable.
“Poor bastard.” Dad whispered, “It can’t have been very old. Why else would it take a chance like that?”
As I was about to reply, something happened that to this day still gives me chills. The deer’s right leg began to twitch and suddenly it stood up on all four. Both Dad and I stood frozen out of fear and shock and just stared at the animal in front of us.
Mom started making noise in the car in an attempt to scare the deer into running away. Instead, it remained standing perfectly still on the road without moving a single muscle. At first, I wondered if perhaps it was in as much shock as we were, but something about how it looked directly at us felt….wrong. Its black eyes locked with mine and for a brief moment it was as if it knew me.
The spell broke a few seconds later when the deer suddenly leapt back across the road and into the forest where it quickly vanished within the shadows.
Dad mumbled something about how he had no idea what the hell just happened, but looking back at it now, it was so obvious.
It was a warning.
We weren’t welcome in Rushing Rills.