The Giving Cohle Naumann Prologue The Monster of Wisconsin a letter by Tom Harris The Wisconsin Family Killer -- or more commonly known as The Puppeteer -- is the reason for the reign of terror that’s spilled into the states. Families are scared straight. Last month, three accidental shootings of family members arriving home in the night, having thought to be The Puppeteer, have been reported, two injured severely and one an instant fatality. Add that to the 8 incidents we’ve had since early August. The family murders began late July, and the world has never been more terrified. Three families -- the Dallas’ and Malaney’s of Wisconsin, and more recently, the Levi’s of Indiana -- were murdered under the roof of their own homes. The Wisconsin Family Killer has been known to murder families of four: mother, father, son and daughter. His victims white, parents middle aged and children young. With what information released from the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) we know The Puppeteer sets the bodies of his victims in position at the table, as if dining -- earning the killer his title. He has their bodies sit there while he feasts on the body of their father and husband. What I have described here is only a short look at the horror this monster is capable of. Lock your doors, hold your families tight, and make sure they know how thankful you are for them this Thanksgiving. ____________________________________________________________________________________ 1 He set down the paper, scowling in a disciplined rage. Monster. Killer. The abhorrence. The malice. He made the right choice, getting as far away from the world as he could. He didn’t want it to scare his family with what it shed. People in this world are monsters. Watching behind the pane until the first droplets of rainfall, he homed in on the grass. The blades pointing towards the sky, untrimmed. 2 It was quiet despite the scatter of rain. Outside life tended to the love and care it had the luxury of being thankful for-- the love and care it put into its families and homes. Christian put everything into his family and home, a quaint place in Minnesota. A lone ship in a sea of forestry. It wasn’t hard to learn it’s traits, it’s ins and outs. New or not, it was home. In time, they’d feel that too. He stood from the window chair, facing the fire and smiling solemnly to himself. The pictures on the mantel illustrated with light. Amanda wore her best summer dress, the one that fit her ample bosom perfectly. David sat in her lap, feet in mismatched socks dangled over her legs. He was smiling that baby toothed smile. Emily sat next to her mom, looking at something on her hand. Pieces of chestnut hair fallen in her face. He couldn’t describe in detail the love he felt for them, but he knew it was the kind that ached, that tried to jump out of his chest and run farther than he could reach. Christian loved them, through every flaw, but they didn’t have any. He protected them from the imperfect, the nasty, the ugly. He was a father, a husband. It was his job, and for that, he was thankful. Today was the golden day of all days to be thankful. Christian joined Amanda and the children at the table, everyone quiet and patient before beginning their feast. The table had been set. Two small pumpkin spice candles lit, dinner glowing and steaming. His wife sat with her feet crossed, comfortable and still. Emily’s eyes waited on the food and David’s on Dad, who commenced the prayer. “God is great. God is good. Let us thank him for our food. And for Michael. He’ll never be forgotten for his sacrifices. Let the Lord give us strength through this meal so we can live on for him, healthier and stronger. Amen.” It’s moments like these he cherishes, that he hopes he can cherish forever. The news will say nasty things, but he won’t let that get to him. He picks up a fork, picking off a piece of meat. With it sitting on his tongue, he silently thanks his wife for picking it. She always had great taste. 3 He swallowed what finally made him full. The pleasant ache in his belly stopped him as he took a look at his family; the food on their plates and a roof over their heads. How lucky does one man have to be to have something like this? Something so delicately crafted in the palm of his hand, that makes him and can break him, just as easily as he could do the same to it. Family is a confusing thing. A complicated thing. Something so ground in you-- you don’t realise it’s there. He played with the wedding band on his ring finger. It fit so snug, just as Michael did inside. Michael’s life fitly his. Artwork by Olivia Diepenbrock
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The way her hair flowed in the wind. The way her smile stretched across her face. The way her eyes seemed to light up the darkness around her. Seeing her beauty was worth the searing agony I went through every night. Tears streamed down my face as her claws dug through my stomach frantically. "I love you honey." Her voice faded in and out of my ears as I lost consciousness succumbing to her darkness. Yet again I was merely her food, but her beauty made it all worth it. I love you too Ann, forever and always. -Samantha Lewis Artwork by Salaya Chowdhury
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