Serial

01. The Road Between Bonbury and Ernesting

Warning: This story may have language some people find offensive. Read at your own risk.

If you asked a resident of Bonbury where their small town lay, you would hear one of two answers. The first being “One hour south of Ernesting, and two hours north of Brycebrooke.” The other being“In the middle of f*****g nowhere.”

Bonbury was a small college town with little to do and even less to see. The crime rate was low and the scandals were high. It was a town where rumours blossomed and slowly ate away the trust between neighbours, leaving a bitter taste in all conversations between acquaintances, no matter how civil.

However on October 24th 2017 the air of distrust was momentarily dissolved, with merriment taking its place. The 24th was the first party of the week long festivities that celebrated the centennial of the town. The week began with feasts and fireworks, and would end with a great bonfire on the edge of Eastworrow Lake.

Despite all this, Henry Harris was not driving towards Bonbury on the quiet road outside town, but rather in the opposite direction, North towards Ernesting. The highway was dark and the cars that passed Henry were few and far between, become even more rare as the night wore on.

Henry Harris was a mailman who worked in Bonbury. If you had asked anyone to describe him you would often hear the term “Fatherly”; an odd term for man who never had children, let alone a long term relationship. Henry had long grew out of his awkward looks that he had as a teen, but he was still by no means attractive. He had salt and pepper hair, and was a little rounder than he would have liked.

Henry drove carefully down the dark road, as he did everywhere he drove. He was sure to just drive the limit, not speeding nor impeding the flow of traffic. He used his signals, never ran a red, and genuinely tried to follow every rule of the road. This was not in respects per se for the law, but more in the trouble it would cause if Henry was ever pulled over.

The van Henry drove was registered to one John Achings, a man who has been sitting in a rehab facility for well over a year. Every time poor John seemed to be getting back on track, he would mysteriously relapse and have to stay longer. The clever observer would find the slight traces of methamphetamine that coated the odd letter he received, however the ones running the center were not so clever, and where more than happy to receive the fee for John's stay at the center than to actually try and treat him to leave.

If Henry had ever gotten pulled over, the police officer in question may be surprised by the smell of the van, a smell that could only be described as “The ass end of a farm.” The van was entrenched with the smell of hay and manure, which one might think is odd for a mailman from Bonbury, but as we have discovered, Henry Harris was only normal on the outside.

It wasn't that Henry owned a farm or had any family on a farm. In fact, Henry Harris was going to the acreage of one Loretta Swann, an older woman that Henry had only met once while she was alive, but was now laying at rest peacefully in her cellar freezer.

Loretta Swann was a hermit in her later years of life. Her acreage was covered in signs that read “Do not Disturb” and “No solicitors", half of which Henry had put up after her untimely death. Luckily for Henry, Loretta Swann was obscure for an older member of society, having always been keen on the inventions of the future. She had set up all her bills to be paid automatically, and had a vast fortune that meant it would be paying for itself years after her death. Her mansion was also fitted with top of the line features, but Henry had only actually been inside once; the day Loretta Swann died and had been put to rest in the freezer.

Like the other dark nights Henry drove to Loretta Swann's, he was not going there tonight to pop inside. He was going to feed dear Loretta's horses, and tended to her lovely flower bed. If anyone asked why he was doing such a thing in the middle of the night, his answer would be that batty old Loretta didn’t like seeing anyone on her property, but was too old to take care of it herself, therefore he came when she was sleeping. Of course, we now know this is a lie. There is no reason a stranger like Henry Harris would go to Loretta Swann's acreage to take care of her property without an ulterior motive.

On the night of October 24th, knowing all we know about Henry Harris, if you had been watching the dark and quiet road between Bonbury and Ernesting, the most obscure and surprising part of the night may have been when Henry pulled his van over, picking up a young hitchhiker on the side of the road.

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Henry had seen the hitchhiker walking. A young woman in her early 20s, wearing unseasonably short shorts and an old and tattered backpack. Henry figured she attended the local college, and was making her was to Ernesting. It was Henry's rule in general not to pull over, but something about this young woman irked him. He pulled to the side of the road and rolled down the passenger side window.

“A little late to be walking this road alone isn't it?” He called out and gave his most fatherly smile. The woman walked nearer to the van, still keeping a bit of distance. “If you don't mind the smell, I can give you a ride.”

“You aren't some sort of psycho are you?” The she asked, now peeking her head through the window and scrunching her nose at the smell.

Henry gave a low chuckle. “Nope. Just a mailman doing a favour for an old lady. Hop in and I'll take you to Ernesting”

She gave a smile and a small shrug, and eagerly got inside. She left her seat belt undone and door unlocked.

“So what's your name?” Henry asked as he started driving again.

“Annabelle.” She answered with a sly grin.

“Annabelle. Is that a real name Annabelle?”

“It's a real name. Just might not be mine.”

“You go to college in Bonbury?”

“I did. But now I'm going to Ernesting so I can actually enjoy myself.”

“Your parents know you're dropping out?”

“My parents don't even know I got into college.”

“What about your sorority?” Henry had noticed the pink sweater with large greek letters emblazoned on the front.

“Those bitches kicked me out. f*****g skanks. You really ask a lot of questions.”

Henry smiled gently again. “Just making sure you aren't some sort of psycho.”

Annabelle let out a loud laugh and relaxed into her seat. Henry watched her carefully in his peripherals. He held the steering wheel tightly to stop his hands from twitching. They drove silently for a few minutes until Annabelle turned to him again.

“Thanks again for taking me. It's kind of creepy walking here this late.”

“No problem Sweetheart. What kind of gentleman would leave a young woman like you alone?”

“Can I pay you back at all?”

“Nope. I'm perfectly fine just helping.”

“Really. I want to.” Annabelle turned her whole body towards Henry.

Normally Annabelle would be considered a very attractive girl. Her legs were long and toned, hair dirty blonde and tousled just right, and she was slender in all the right places. Looking at her, however, Henry felt a small wave of disgust. He looked out the driver side window to hide the look on his face.

“No really. No need for any money.” He said this after a moment. It was getting harder to keep up with fatherly smile.

“It doesn't have to be money…” Annabelle reached out a hand and gently stroked Henry's arm. She lent over her seat and whispered in his ear, “I'm yours until we get to Ernesting.”

Henry went white and the van swerved for a moment until he pulled down a side road. The van sputtered and came to a stop. Annabelle, who had jumped squarely back in her seat as it swerved, laughed quietly.

“I think there's some engine trouble.” Henry muttered, quickly unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the van.

“I wanted a smoke anyway.” Annabelle dug through her own bag before hopping out and lighting a smoke. Henry walked to the hood of the van, opening it up and pretending to inspect his near perfect van. He took a couple breaths to try and calm down and control the twitches running throughout his body. After a moment he left the hood to go to his trunk, passing Annabelle who blew a puff of smoke in his face.

“Surprised an old man like you isn't telling me that smoking kills.” Annabelle called as he sorted through his trunk.

“There are worse things in the world that could kill you.” Henry said lowly, finding his tools under the hay and gripping them tightly. Annabelle lit another smoke and took a long drag.

Henry took another long breath, held a toolkit in his left hand and a small hatchet in his right. He took a step back from the van-

And was overcome with dizziness. Time seemed to slow down, his vision was fading in and out and he was having trouble standing. Annabelle walked over, blew another big puff of smoke in his face and laughed.

“I would say you get used to it honey, but I'm not giving you the chance.”

Henry fell down against the van, dropping his hatchet and toolkit lamely. He tried his best to focus on Annabelle to understand what was happening. She pulled out a needle and injected something into her arm, letting out a hoot and giving her body a shake once the needle was pulled out. Next she took out a thick rope, tied as a noose, in which she wrapped around Henry's neck and pulled tight.

Annabelle set the body back in the van. She carefully put on gloves, wiped any prints she may have left, closed the hood and put the tools back in the trunk, eyeing the pale hand that had limply came out from under the hay. She smirked as she closed the trunk, then walked a half kilometer down the road to a car hidden in the dark trees. She pulled out a letter, a handwritten invitation, and drove.

If Annabelle had looked in the glove box of the van that Henry Harris drove, she would have found a matching invitation, for the party at one Loretta Swann's, on Halloween night of October 2017.