The Headlines

Not much ever happens in our small town. We’re a small community of around 270 people. You have the old timers, the ones who have been here for years as part of the community that keeps the place alive. They are the majority of our population, the most notable of which was Captain Hughes with the police department. The old timers keep to themselves for the most part. As far as they are concerned it’s their town and the rest of us are just allowed to live in it. When I had first left for my new job the only old timer to pay much notice was The Captain. He’d seemed upset about my leaving, but I suppose that made sense. He'd known me since I was born and even used to babysit me when my parents worked late as a child.

Then you have the young ones who still believe they are destined for more than here.

After that come the ones like me, who believed the very same thing only to leave and realise we weren't cut out for anything more than the boring ins and outs of small town life. Most didn’t last very long back in town and left just as quickly as they returned.

I left once. I tried to make it out and very quickly realised why everyone eventually comes back. It's hard to make it in the real world after being shut away in a place like this.

It had been six weeks, three days and 14 hours since I'd returned with my head low and dreams shattered. I'd spent my time going through the motions of daily life. Wake up, get a coffee at the cafe on the corner and go to the store. Come home to my shabby flat, stare mindlessly at the shitty sitcoms and soap operas that daytime television blessed me with, go to bed and repeat the next day.

On this particular morning I'd woken up and decided enough was enough. I’m not one for a pity party and this one had gone on long enough. I was going on a hike. I'd seen a flyer in the cafe for Fremont Park, located within the mountain ranges in our town. Slightly up the mountain there was an entrance to a track that I had wanted to attempt since my school days. Today seemed like the perfect day for it. I had set off around midday with the intention of being back before sunset at around 6pm.

At that moment I had no idea what lay in store for me, what twisted turn of events would make this decision the worst one of my life. If I had known maybe I would have gone earlier in the day. Maybe I never would have come back into town at all, knowing what I know now.

The sun beat down on me, warm and comforting despite the chilly breeze wrapping and twisting itself around the mountains. Birds shared their secrets with their own little song and the trees whispered their tales through their leaves on the wind. I thought it was beautiful, but maybe they were actually trying to warn me.

As I set off down the old track, the path overgrown, I felt more determined than I had since I'd left this town. If I could do this then surely I could put together the broken fragments of my life.

I lost all sense of time as I continued on up the mountain, the trees grew denser until I couldn't see the skies anymore. It felt like I had been walking for hours but I couldn't be sure.

I'd lost the path some time ago but I was familiar with these mountains and had no doubt I could find my way back once I reached the top, I just had to keep going up for now. The higher I reached, the more the trees started to thin and it became apparent that I had been walking for much longer than I had planned. The sun was already setting and as I sat atop the mountains watching the world change before my eyes I felt content. So content that I never heard the twigs snapping in the trees behind me. So content that I didn't feel the eyes watching me, observing me, calculating me. So content that I didn't question my choice to head back down the mountain in the dark.

I made my way slowly, so slowly in fact that the only sounds were the wind in the trees, the sound of my heavy breathing and heavy footsteps, and the quiet crunching of the steps belonging to the man stalking me.

I'm ashamed to say it took me a while to realise. In fact, I only realised once I had been grabbed from behind and had a knife to my throat.

It was at this moment I remembered the articles. It was then that I remembered why I left this town in the first place. Newspaper headlines flashed through my mind as I stood, frozen, the metal of his knife cold against my skin.

“Young Hiker Goes Missing in Fremont Park.”

“A Group of Campers Found Dismembered”

“Shallow Grave Found in Mountains”

“Local Girl Missing From Home”

Dozens of disappearances spanning over the last 25 years. Each one different than the last but all here in these mountains and this town. All the young ones. The dreamers. The ones that wanted out. The ones that left and then came back. Each one now a cold case as the killer was never found and eventually people forgot. I never did though. I left, refusing to suffer the same fate as all the others.

‘How could I have forgotten this. This is why I never attempted these tracks. This is why I left.’ I thought as I cursed at myself and my own stupidity.

I had 2 options now, swing and try to run and hope I found my way out before he found me. Or accept my fate to be the same as those that came before me. I could see the article now.

“Local Girl Returns- But Where Is She Now?”

So I swung, blindly and with very little strength but enough to catch him off guard and he stumbled. I slipped from his grasp and ran like hell. I ran and I didn't stop. Not when I ran out of breath and my lungs were on fire. Not when I fell and I felt my ankle twist unbearingly. Not when my face and arms were torn up by branches. I only stopped when I collapsed and couldn't find the energy to get back up.

I stayed silent on the ground for what seemed like an eternity, listening to every noise around me, trying to figure out if I was alone.

After what felt like must have been hours, I slowly stood up, backed against a tree and tried to decipher my surroundings. It took a few seconds to realise I was utterly and completely lost. I tried to gain any sense of direction. My body hurt, my chest was burning, my legs cramping and my nerves were undeniably shot.

I was going to die out here. It was inevitable. The cold was setting in and I could feel it in my bones. That would soon turn to hypothermia if I didn't find my way out soon. But without knowing where I was, finding my way out seemed impossible. It would be smart to find shelter and wait until daylight and try to find my way back then. Then there was the other pressing problem. The psycho killer that was still somewhere in these mountains. I had lost him for now, but he had found me once and I didn't doubt he could find me again if I didn't keep moving. This is why all the young ones left this town. Why they didn't stay around. Because if they stayed their bodies were found in the mountains. I wondered how many people actually left. It seemed more likely now that their bodies just hadn't been found yet.

I shook those thoughts off, took a shakey breath and starting walking, quietly, in what I hoped was the right direction. My ears pricked at every sound but so far it was just me and the trees.

I began to relax as I got closer to the bottom of the mountains, knowing I would soon be safe. I debated what to do once I reached home. I would call the police, tell them what I saw, and then grab the bare minimum, leave and never look back. Yes, that was the plan.

Until the ground fell out from under me. I hit the earth with a thud, knocking the wind out of me and causing me to see nothing but stars. I tried to stand but my formerly twisted ankle groaned in protest and my head spun with every movement. The drop had been significant and I had a feeling it would take more than a little hop to get out of this one.

‘Of course I escape death and get trapped in a hole. Typical!” I thought cynically as I tried to figure out what to do.

Before I could form a coherent thought to turn into a plan I heard more earth give way and looked up just in time to see a river of dirt cascading down towards me. It fell with a thud into the hole that I could now clearly see had been set as a trap for me.

I could hear the sound of a shovel hitting the dirt as more and more surrounded me and I was left with a choice. Try and get out and hope I could outrun him again, or let myself be buried and hope I could dig my way out.

It was unlikely I could outrun him this time, especially with my injuries. My best bet was to hope I could dig like hell.

The last thing I saw was the face of Captain Hughes peering down at me from the surface and for a fleeting moment I thought I was saved. Until he smiled and then everything went black.

As I laid in the dark, covered in dirt, feeling the pressure from the weight of the earth on me, slowly suffocating without any air from the surface, I contemplated how I had ended up here.

It started with leaving for my dream job interstate. Then came the sabotage, which I suppose is a story for another time. That led to the loss of my job and the life I was building with it. I returned here, to this small town with nothing to show for myself. After a few weeks back I'd run into Captain Hughes while out shopping. He'd said something about completing old goals, which I had brushed off. Looking back now, he was simply tempting me towards my death. Then came the flyer, conveniently placed where I was sure to see it, leading to my spontaneous hike which led to what I was now sure would be my demise. The snapping realisation that all of this was pre-orchestrated shook me to my core. The whole time it was him.

Every single thing that had happened led me here, to this moment. I wondered if it was the same for all the others. I wonder how many murders were covered up with false headlines. I guess now I would never truly know. But one thing was abundantly clear. We were not allowed to live in their town and I wondered what my headline would read.

My attempts to escape grew futile as I attempted to claw my way up to the surface, every movement causing more of the earth to crush my bones and fill my lungs. My fingers broke and my hands grew bloody as I fought to figure out which way was up and which way was down. With every scream I inhaled more dirt, choking until I could no longer breathe. I fought with every fibre of my being but it was to no avail. It was suffocation that got me in the end. After six weeks, four days and eleven hours, I had left the tiny town, just as quickly as I'd returned.

The next morning the newspaper headlines for our small town read;

“Lost Local Girl Found Deceased in Woods After Hypothermic Ordeal”