An Old Tale (Retold)

Intro

If a person were to ask me what could possibly be my motivation for such a seemingly gratuitous recapitulation of events that were by any standard, horrendous. In the event of such a query, I’d have to admit candidly that I really don’t know. Is it unwise, imprudent, perhaps even immoral to relate truth when that truth is unpleasant? Or conversely, much the truth always be told? Maybe all the more so when it is unpleasant. And let the unfortunate reader beware, unpleasant is perhaps an egregious understatement. Through the course of the next few days, I invite anyone who perhaps has a little too much time on their hands to journey with me as I relate this story. It’s not my story, but I was there. One of our subjects has since become modestly famous and this is perhaps my true motive for telling the tale I will shortly put forth. She has refused on her website and through the occasional interview to admit the awful truth of those fall days all those years ago. I know the truth she conceals. I was there.

It’s not a horror story because it’s real. But then again, monsters, demons, vampires, and the like could never be as scary, frightening, or deadly as real life. That’s basically a truism.

I ask that the unfortunate reader kindly overlook any typing errors or in particular missing or wrong words (a particular bad habit of mine). I will not be proof reading.

This is dedicated as is everything I do, to the lost.