Detective Everette Larson propped his feet on his desk. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he looked around the office and looked at the cluttered space around him.
He read through all the latest news reports. In Texas, a teenage boy was apparently hit by a truck and killed. In Seattle, a girl was brutally mauled by what was assumed to be an animal. In Nebraska, there was apparently a strange report of a nurse seeing "a boy with translucent blue skin." Larson sighed.
"What is it with all these bogus reports nowadays?" Larson asked himself.
He read another story saying that a teenage girl who went to the local high school had gone missing. The students reported seeing her turn into garbage. Larson closed the newspaper and threw it away. He figured he'd had enough of the news today.
He shifted his attention to the picture of his wife, Angela, and his son, Ryan. He missed them. Was he really the bad father Angela said he was? He missed a lot of Ryan's baseball games and many camping trips, sure, but he loved his family. He had always been more devoted to his job than his son. "I promise I'll be at the game." Usually turned into "I'm sorry, Ryan, I have another case." Angela would tell him "He's your son, Everette. He shouldn't be an afterthought." After a while of the cycle repeating itself, Angela made it her personal mission to divorce him, kick him out of their house, and make sure he saw their son as little as possible.
Since then, Larson had been living in an apartment. He no longer stayed overtime because of his demanding job, he stayed late because his "home" wasn't a home to him. It was just a small apartment with an ugly carpet that Ryan said smelled like pickles.
"There you are." Larson looked in the direction of the voice. It was Chief Monahan, holding a file. Larson probably wasn't going to like whatever was in the file.
"The Stitchwraith." Monahan said, putting the file on Larson's desk. "I want you on the case."
"No." Larson responded simply. "Come on, no one else in the department wants it-"
"I don't want it." Larson interrupted. "Besides, everyone knows it's just an urban legend." He continued.
Monahan shook his head. "Not anymore. You heard the latest?"
Larson thought back to the local teenage girl. Sarah, Larson thought her name was.
"Yeah. What about it?" Larson asked.
"They had therapists talk to the witnesses. They all saw the same thing." Monahan said.
"They're just teenagers. It's probably just a cruel prank they're playing." Larson brushed it off.
"I don't know, Larson. The therapists all said that the students were telling the truth. Some of the other detectives said that they might've found a connection between this girl and the Stitchwraith." Monahan said.
"Well, I don't care, chief. I'm not taking this case. It'll just be a waste of time. The Stitchwraith does not exist." Larson refused.
"You haven't even looked in the file yet." Monahan said. "I don't need to look to know that it's just a waste of time." Larson protested further.
Monahan sighed and sat down on the chair on the opposite side of Larson's desk. "Just do it... please."
Larson sighed and reluctantly took the file. He opened it and looked inside. He saw information that wasn't new to him. He'd already heard enough about the Stitchwraith to know what it is. It had been described as a cloaked figure roaming the streets at night. It had a lurching walk and was always carrying a trash bag filled with... well, no one knew what was in the bag. It ignored people unless they provoked it. It had a strange obsession with trash and junk. Eyewitness reports claimed to have seen it dumpster diving and fishing out things like mannequin torsos and dolls. Larson read further into the reports and found five mysterious death reports.
"Five? Five withered bodies... all of them crying an unknown black substance from their eyes." Larson said with surprise. Monahan responded with a simple nod. "Two of them are people we have criminal records on." He added. Larson remembered arresting one of them.
"They must've tried to mug him." Larson said. "I agree." Monahan stated.
Larson kept looking through the file and saw photos, actual camera footage of the Stitchwraith. They actually had proof of it. Larson looked at one of the pictures. It took all he had not to show the dread he was feeling.
The Stitchwraith's face was large and round. It didn't really look like a face. It looked more like they were wearing some kind of mask. The features were drawn on with black marker. Its eyes were black with one looking more blacked out than the other. Its mouth was missing a couple teeth. Surrounding the mouth... were those blood stains around the mouth? Larson thought. He closed the file and looked at Monahan.
"Still think it's a hoax?" Monahan asked with a smug expression on his face. Larson rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat. "Alright... you win, chief. I'll get started as soon as I can."
Monahan nodded and got up from the chair. He turned to leave, but before he walked out the door, Monahan turned back around.
"Oh, one more thing... the mask the Stitchwraith is wearing... they found a match." Monahan stated. Larson raised an eyebrow. "They did?"
"Yeah, and you'll never guess where it came from." Oh boy, Larson thought. What have I gotten myself into?
END OF CHAPTER II
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THE CYCLE OF TORMENT
FanfictionMillie Fitzsimmons barely survived the attempt on her life made by Funtime Freddy. Now, she is traumatized by the attack. She has constant nightmares. She cannot get any sleep. One day, she decides that enough is enough and that she had to find a wa...
