Sunday, March 27, 2011

Two can play

You know a lot about me now, Harriet. But you don't know me. And you're not the only one who can get information.

Your name's Harriet McCullough. You live in Marietta, Texas, on the edge of the woods outside of town. You're a short white woman with brown eyes and brown hair, although it's mostly grey now.You're a retired secretary, never married, in your late 50's. No children. You've lived in Texas most of your life. You're active in your church. That's interesting. Do you pretend to pray to God when you're really praying to the monster?
You probably think you're special, chosen, like a disciple. Maybe even a messiah. You want me to know it too. But you're not just taunting me. I think you honestly believe that I'm going to somehow get over the fact that you tortured Jill and then murdered her, that we're going to become friends. You're insane but you're very good at hiding it. None of your neighbors even suspected what you did to Jill.

And how do I know this about you? You never gave me your name. I've never been to your town, never seen you. You've told me nothing.
But I'm not stupid. The moment I sobered up on Wednesday, I called Officer Clinton. I turned over the notebook, told the police I'd found it by my front door. They traced your IP adress from your posts on twitter. How does it feel to be caught by fucking twitter? And they put a trace on my phone, you stupid bitch. Why do you think I listened to you on Thursday? Why do you think I didn't hang up as soon as I recognized your voice? They know you called from a pay phone in Marietta. I guess it was smart of you to not use your home phone, but you live in a small town. How hard do you think it was for the police to talk to local law enforcement, ask about Harriets in the area? Did you really think the Slender Man would protect you?

But as much as I'd love to say these things to you, I know you'll probably never read this. Because Officer Clinton just called and told me that the police in Marietta have just broken down your door. So fuck you, you evil bitch. You're done.


  1. *fist pump*

    Okay, not gonna lie. That was pretty awesome.

    On the other hand, this has made me think a little bit. I'm gonna have to work on a way to avoid leaving any trace of any sort. Because if you can do that to them, they can do the same to me.


  2. Brava! It's good to hear fighting words from you, Ali; I've been worried.

    I don't want to jinx you, but I'm sure you know what I'm hoping for you.