Chain Letter

Warning. Capital punishment, violence, rape, discrimination themes and sexuality.

25/06/25

I like to keep my explanations brief because my client list is overflowing, leaving me little time even to brew a cup of instant soup. About a week ago, I decided to take on a pro bono job. It wasn't difficult to research, but it was certainly a bizarre case.

I focused on my appearance. I puckered my lips and applied vibrant, low-cost pink lipstick that brightened my face. I curled my hair, watching as the ringlets bounced into place. Then, I fumbled around for some false eyelashes to add drama to my eyes. "Nothing like doe eyes to capture that man's attention," I thought. I chose a floral blouse that added a touch of femininity, then slouched my shoulders, tilted my head to one side, and cast my gaze downward as if shyly luring him into a trap.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK. I scrolled through seven photos. "Yeah, nah, hmm, um... looks good. Number three it is!"

I created a username, "Nariel Von Artisto," and logged in. I entered my real age—36. After selecting "casual relationship" and ticking a few mainstream orientations I wasn't interested in, I crafted my introduction: "Hey! Are there any adventurous guys in Brisbane looking for fun? I’m on a working holiday doing some cleaning, but really, I’m just a curious art student seeking excitement! Let’s explore together!"

Next, I searched for profiles, specifically looking for users from North Brisbane, where Woody Charles lived, aged between 30 and 37. As I scanned through at least 50 potential matches, I sighed with relief when I spotted him: "MrHotrod34." It didn’t surprise me that he was a paying member; he seemed pretty sleezy. But not here to judge, get on with the job. Without hesitation, I sent him a heart emoji, and for discretion, I also dispatched heart emojis to several other male profiles. Within no more than a few minutes, my phone chimed over and over again. I felt violated.

Woody responded almost immediately, "Hi, Precious." I replied with a playful GIF of a purring cat. He wasted no time and sent me his personal explicit photos. The sight made my stomach churn, but I managed to send back an excited googly eye emoji.

I suggested, "Oh, Daddy, would you like to meet up?"

"Oh, yes, baby."

"What about this afternoon?"

"Oh, yummy, an early dinner."

"How about Ben's Diner in Zillmere?"

His typing came to an abrupt halt, and then he cautiously asked, "You must visit Brissy often?"

"Hey, honey! I'm at my aunt's for the week. It's just a budget getaway for me."

"And your profile says you're 36, right?"

"Yep, hon, I'm 36." His tone lightened as he replied, "Then I guess we can head to my place afterward? Sound good?"

"Yummy!"

"Shall we meet at three o'clock?"

"I can't wait," I said as I intentionally munched on a curried egg sandwich.

"Ditto," he replied. "Oh, one more thing—I’m also a creator on YouTube," and he shared his link to the chat.

******

"I'm Woodcroft Charles the Fourth," he stated as he led me to a diner booth. After he sat down, I laid my anorak on the seat and excused myself, saying, "It's cold. Sorry, I’ll be right back." Woody nodded in response.

I walked over to the counter and asked, "Could I use the ladies' room?" As I spoke, I slipped a crisp fifty-dollar bill to the waiter, ex army, and gave him a sly wink. “Happy evening, Ben.” With a knowing smirk, he handed me the tiolet key attached to a wooden spoon, discreetly tucking the bill into his pocket as if it were nothing unusual.

In a hushed tone, I leaned closer and warned him, "Be careful; he's watching us." Ben, seemingly unperturbed, replied a bit too loudly, "You know where they are!" Woody turned his head, so I bent down and pretended to rummage through my bag, wiggling my hips in my snug leather pants. I made sure to brush past Woody, playfully nudging my handbag against his jaw. "Won't be a minute, darling," I said, leaving him with a teasing smile.

Not long after, a glass of water was placed in front of Woody, along with one for me. Ben handed us the menu, and before he could retreat, Woody firmly announced, "I think we can order now." He blinked slowly and said, "I’ll have a mug of long black coffee, hot chips with vinegar pepper and no salt." Leaning in closer to me, he added, "I think I’ll need all the caffeine I can get for later!"

I thought, "God help me, I was losing myself," as a giggle escaped me. “I’ll have a glass of Diet Coke with extra ice, and a garden salad, thanks.”

Once Ben left, Woody leaned in again with a confident smile, his excitement palpable. “I’m really glad you aren’t one of those clingy types.” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Then he changed the trajectory “Did you check out my channel?” I leaned closer. “Yes, it’s quite something—you poor thing! Your family seemed cursed by a witch.” His eyes widened. “Absolutely! It’s was compelling enough for a television documentary too,” he said proudly.

“So, the curse started with your great-grandfather?”

“It all began in a hotel in Sydney with Lizzie Bax, a maid who tried to seduce my great-grandfather. When he rejected her, she stabbed him with a steak knife. She was later caught and hanged, but not before cursing our family: '"May the Devil plague your wives with suffering, disease, and hopelessness, bringing them to the depths of despair until they are claimed by the fires of hell."

"That is terrible!"

"He buried three wives. My grandfather lost one wife, my father lost a wife and a lover, my mother, in a car crash, and another drowned.

I sincerely said, "Im sorry for your loss." Woody hand shook as he sipped his coffee and continued, "I've stayed single because a psychic gave me a solution." He rolled a small wooden cube towards me.

"Is this a stamp?" I asked.

"Yes, it can save you from certain death." He paused to create emphasis. “Did you see how to escape the curse in my video?” I pictured chaotic interviews of his past lovers crying and hysterically discussing the chain letter they needed to send to survive. I guzzled my drink and munched on my salad. With my mouth full, I replied, “Yes."

He hesitated. "Aren't you eating a little too fast?"

"I guess I feel nervous."

He nodded, saying, "It's a little unladylike," as I stuffed my mouth with food again. He rolled his eyes and huffed as he retrieved a crumpled envelope from inside his jacket. "This is from my last lover to you. Once we’re together, you must handwrite the exact words on a parchment then seal the envelop with our family coat of arms. Then give it to me since most people don’t like to provide their home addresses so I can pass it on to my next lover." Just as I finished swallowing, I shoved another mouthful in.

He snatched the fork from my hand and then cupped his hands around mine. "Listen carefully and trust me, I want to keep you safe!" At that moment I felt strangely comforted.

Ben noticing from a distance, approached with a worried expression. "Is everything alright?"I finished my Diet Coke and let out a loud burp. Woody shot me a glare for my bad manners. I sort of felt like a lady. "Excuse me," I said while Ben quickly grabbed the dirty plates and glasses. He tilted Woody's glass towards the light, nodded, snapped his heels together then exited.

I asked Woody, "Do you want to split the bill?"

"No, I will pay."

I gasped and pretended to buckle over in pain. "Ahh!"

"What’s wrong?" Woody asked, half-expecting my explanation.

"I have a stomach ache. Ahh."

He bent closer to me, and I let out a puff of wind—poof! I threw my arm out intentionally, snagging some of his hair in my bracelet.

“Ouch!” he wailed, and I noticed that the hair follicles were still attached. I thought to myself, "Good, I won't need to go to his home and nab his toothbrush then!"

Poof! I released another rotten curried egg fart, but quickly sprayed my perfume to mask the smell. “Sorry,” I said, trying to hide a smile as I recalled the childhood contests that had prepared me for this moment. My sister and I used to see who could fart the longest; she once won with an impressive minute-long effort at the dinner table while my father and mother wonder if they birthed two aliens.

I realised, at that moment, everyone in the restaurant was staring at me. I leaned over again and gasped, "I'm sorry, but I have to go home, Woody. I'll talk to you soon." Woody, holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nose, replied, "Yes, I understand. If you need a ride, I can drive you," and he muttered to himself, "with the window down."

****** During the early 1900s.

In the cold corner of her shared Brisbane cell with cowering men, Lizzie Bax clutched her tattered skirt to shield her bare legs. A painful gash on her forehead reminded her of the brutal punch she had received for what they called "lying". The warden's chilling voice echoed, "Lizzie Bax should enjoy all the men she wants before her neck’s stretched!"

When he left, her cellmate Aaron leaned in, In an effort to reassure her, he said, “We men aren’t the ones who will hurt you, Lizzie.” Just then, a pastor appeared at the bars and commanded her to confess, "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Desperate, she cried, “Go away!” He warned her, “You’ll rot in hell, Elizabeth Bax!”

After the pastor left, Aaron remarked, “We all know you’re hiding something. You’re not going to escape your fate.” Lizzie sobbed, “I can’t... it’s a good secret!”

Then, the cell door swung open, and names were called:

- Aaron John Mattherson

- Elizabeth Henrietta Bax

- Toa Choy

- Frankie Stanley Wills

- Amel Marioesto Estephanz

- Patrick Lairy O’Connell

As the trap door opened, a newborn screamed in its caregiver's arms. Lizzie died without a word.

******

01/08/2025.

Subject: Update on Ancestry and Television Show

Hi Jessica,

Thank you for your help. The DNA results have confirmed that Woodcroft and I share the same great-grandfather.

My solicitor has contacted Woodcroft regarding the positive results, and I can now legally share my great-grandmother's story.

There are several interesting twists I'd like to mention. Firstly, Woodcroft uploaded a video , after he and his former partners discovered that I am his relative. They believed my great-grandmother was succubus who stole our great-grandfather's sperm in the hotel room whilst he slept and impregnated herself. As a result, they conducted a livestream at Elizabeth Bax's grave in Toowoong Cemetery, and tried to illegally exhume her. They wanted to place a stake through her skeleton where her heart had been, as they believed she was a vampire.

Secondly, the police were alerted via survellance systems, the group was apprehended; their investigation mostly focused on Woody's channel, leading to a requirement for him and the others to undergo a mental health examination.

It's like it was just all a dream.

Since then, Woody has improved. I have come to understand him better. I now don't mind sharing his bloodline. The complexities of our case of severe ancestral trauma and generational family belief patterns have garnered us significant media attention. We have received offers from various American, English, and some European talk shows, but we have decided to start with shows in Australia.

Would it be possible for you to participate in these shows as well?

All the best,

Elizabeth Williams

*******

25/08/2025

Subject: Update on Ancestry and Television Show**

Hi Elizabeth,

I apologize for my delayed response; I have been quite busy. I'm really happy for you, Elizabeth. I felt the same way. Woody is a decent guy. He was misguided, but he seems to be on the path to recovery now.

I may or may not be able to attend those shows. However, please understand that my name and true identity must remain undisclosed, as it is crucial for me to stay anonymous.

Thanks,

Jessica