A/N: Samantha: Yeah don't even ask about this one. I got bored one day in class and this is what happened. There's like absolutely no truth or historical accuracy as far as I know, but it kept me from going insane for awhile.
Darian: This story is suck. You stole lines from Dracula, and got the general idea from Sleepy Hollow.
Samantha:oh shut up.
It was a cold winter day in Amityville. The streets were devoid of all life. The only other living thing was a crow that had perched on a nearby chimney. It was staring at him with beady black eyes that seemed to follow him, even though the crow's head never moved. The wind whipped, pulling at
his jacket and cutting through his thin clothing. He was unprepared for this sudden onslaught of cold weather, that was so different from the weather of his home right now. Back in Boston it was still warm enough to get away with only wearing a light jacket, and he had thought that the
weather here would be the same, but he was mistaken and now wished that he had worn thicker clothing, to help shield him from the almost Arctic wind.
Chris Daniels, forty-five years of age, medium height and build. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown suit. No wife, no children, no immediate family. Harvard graduate, majoring in law, science, and crime. Sent to investigate, the kidnapping, and suspected murder of a young woman named
Charlene Remmington, on the behalf of the Boston crime department. Case time currently undetermined.
October 3
I have been in this desolate town for a day now and have only seen two people so far. One being the owner of the inn I am residing in, and the other being his wife. They have both treated me well, but I am already growing weary of this place and wish to return home. They both act in a very curious manner, I occasionally find Mrs. Vertan standing in the foyer, looking out of the front window, holding a cross and praying. She is of a ghastly pale, and looks almost like she is going to be sick right there by the window. She doesn't move and I am too nervous to call to her, for I fear that if I do she will be startled something wicked, and hit her head off the top of the window. Mr. Vertan acts quite queerly as well. He disappears all hours of the day and night, and when he returns he looks
quite sickly himself.
I wonder what is happening to this backwater town. The disappearance of one person shouldn't cause this kinda of mayhem. I hope o find out what's going on tomorrow when I speak to Lady Remmington's father, Thomas Remmington. It turns out that Mr. Remmington is actually the mayor of Amityville, and he is said to be quite the business man. I hear that his endeavors are the only thing that have kept this town alive for the last twenty years.
I will continue to document this case here, and when I return home I shall write a shorter edited version for records.
October 4
It is already past midday and I have yet to speak with Mr. Remmington. I understand that he is a busy man, but I fear that if he does not call for me soon then I will not have the chance to speak with him at all until tomorrow. One would think that he would wish to speak to me as soon as
possible, what with it being his own daughter that has disappeared, but that seems not to be the case. Which is very odd for a man who was said to adore his daughter as a man with only one child can. Mr. Vertan came into my room a moment ago and told me that Mr. Remmington was home and awaiting my arrival. I shall go now and see what he has to say about all of this.
October 5
When I arrived at Mr. Remmington's estate I was led into the parlor where to my surprise I found a number of people. One of which was the aforementioned Mr. Remmington. Everyone in the room proceeded to introduce themselves upon my entrance.
There was a Mr. Jack Aldridge, who is the keeper of records for Amityville. A Mr. David Belvidere, the head of the small police force. Also Mr. Scott Callaghan, who is part of the two man police force along with Mr. Belvidere, and a Father James Averill, the head of the only church in Amityville.
I took a seat by the blazing hearth, for I was frozen to the bone from the walk from my inn to Mr. Remmington's manor, even though the two residences were in plain view of each other. The weather here seems to grow harsher with each time I venture out into it, and I thankfully
excepted the hot cup of coffee Mr. Remmington's mistress, a Lady Alexandria Remmington, offered me in the hopes that it could help me shake some of the chill, but I digress.
I spoke first telling them all that I had been told before I was sent here, in the hopes that they would correct me if I had invalid information, and also so that they could tell me about anything I was unaware of. The information the General had supplied me with wasn't very informative and extremely vague. This is what I knew of the case before visiting Mr. Remmington.
Charlene Remmington, 23 years old.
Disappeared on while walking back to her home from the apothecary, on August 22.
Mr. Thomas Remmington has requested our aid, as the police force in Amityville is unaccustomed to dealing with kidnappings.
This sparse information has given me cause to think, and I find myself wondering how there could be no witnesses. I am under the impression that the people of Amityville have barricaded themselves in their homes only because they are unused to having any threats in their peaceful town, and that, before the kidnapping, the streets were full of people going about their business. Yet as far as I know, no one saw her after she left the apothecary. It is completely baffling, and I have resolved to go about tomorrow about ask the villagers myself.