It was a brisk evening in late spring, the old chill of winter having given way to the eruption of greenery in the New England forests, the bare branches of stately trees once more transitioning to the life-giving greenery. The woodlands were awash with life, arboreal mammals and birds alike engaging in the ambient chatter of a new season. Yet, it was not the awe-inspiring nature that drew me to these sparsely inhabited forests, but rather the investigation of a series of bizarre events.
I still had with me the clippings of old newspaper articles, the macabre descriptions of the scenes found by other investigators, spottings of the freshly deceased. As if the groupings of corpses were not enough to arouse suspicion, the details of the arrangements were strikingly bizarre. No signs of foul play, each victim appearing entirely intact, even with their eyes open, as if they had just been resting there. The reality, of course, was that they were all conclusively dead. At each crime scene, the corpses were all found to be staring at a single point in unison, as if they had been observing something prior to death. It was this alone that drew me to these untouched woods, for my background in the occult immediately suggested that this must have been some sort of ritual. There was a cult in these forests, and I was determined to find it. If anything, it would be a welcome diversion from the monotony of big city detective work. It was something new, something different from the mundane series of burglaries and murders.
Having arrived in Providence by train, I was escorted to a small town a few hours north of it, the site of the most recent discovery of bodies. There were a dozen of them, all of them appearing to have died in unison, gathered in a semi-circle around a single patch of trampled grass. Not a single piece of evidence had been left behind, and the victims came from all walks of life, all ages, men and women. There was nothing to establish a motive, or even a connection between the deceased. They had simply arrived in a clearing in the nearby forest, sat down on their knees together, and died with their eyes wide open. That part alone was the worst for me, the photographs of the victims providing an ample source of nightmares to myself and others in the department. Some of the corpses seemed to be grinning, their facial expressions forced into unnatural configurations, frozen in place for all eternity.
At the town, I encountered the others that would join me in this investigation. In addition to a few locals that knew the surrounding forests well, there was an officer from the nearby police department, a rather weary one that had encountered the crime scene himself and nervously clutched at his holstered pistol at the mere glimpse of those horrifying mental images. There was also a professor from a nearby university, a genial older gentleman that had studied the natural sciences and could provide some additional insight on the mysterious occurrences. With our crew assembled, we dressed ourselves in the appropriate outerwear for the weather, keeping an awkward silence throughout, for the circumstances were not particularly cheerful. I chose to go with a classic detective ensemble, right down to the hat and a lengthy coat. When I saw myself in the mirror, I nearly expected a traditional magnifying glass to be in one of my pockets. For personal safety reasons, I chose to go with my trusted revolver. Who knew what lurked in those dark woods? Whatever was causing these strange gatherings of silently staring corpses, I didn't want to find myself unprepared when meeting it.
We were taken down an old road, riding together in a van driven by a middle-aged carpenter. Once we reached the closest point to the crime scene, we disembarked, but he chose to stay behind, citing that he didn't want to leave his vehicle unattended. I saw the fear in his eyes, and despite the obvious nature of his excuse decided to let him stay, for he would have been a liability otherwise. As the rest of us found ourselves transitioning from the old pavement to the crinkling foliage beneath our feet, the eerie silence of the forest permeated our very being. There was nothing out here, nothing that could have possibly driven a sizable group of people to die in unison. Fortunately for the more squeamish members of our party, the victims had been removed to a local morgue, with chalk outlines of the bodies left on the grass in the clearing, the silhouettes possessing a certain disturbing quality of their own.
As we surveyed the site, we each had our own way of looking for clues. As the jittery policeman stood watch, we picked through the grass, turned up small rocks, and even dug through the dirt in an attempt to determine what was so compelling about the focal point of the group. After an hour of fruitless searching, the old professor decided to go into the woods, accompanied by the townsfolk. They would try to find abnormalities in the surrounding forests, something I hadn't even considered. Thus, while they went off, I remained at the scene with the policeman. We exchanged glances in the moonlight, but not a single word was said. He couldn't even bring his eyes to the point a few yards to my side, where that group had all been staring.
While the hours passed, we began to grow concerned about just what had happened to the professor and the townsfolk. It was already midnight, and the moon had set early tonight, leaving the clearing pitch black. Ultimately, we decided to go off and search for them, something that the policeman was all too happy about, as he couldn't stand being at the crime scene anymore. As we stumbled through the patches of thorny brush, we remained silent, listening attentively for any sounds made by the group. After nearly a half hour of searching, we at last heard voices. Distorted, ecstatic voices.