May 27, 2008 George Kilgore 6666 Elm Street. Pinebough Mississippi 0999
To the Honorable Judge Beckett, As Mr. Kilgore has instructed, this is a submission of mitigation on my clients plea of being Guilty to the voluntary manslaughter of [REDACTED]. Below is a transcription of my clients sworn testimony:
[start]
We needed money and them woods weren’t being used for nothing. It was just an opportunity waiting to be seized – to me. Especially when I hear of those bumfuck farmers talking about the need for compost. I says to myself, compost huh? I had dealt with it before, but not the dead kind. I left the bar and went to the damn library. Found myself a computer. Found out how to maintain and create animal compost right then and there. Shit was fairly easy when you got into it. Thank Christ for the internet. Printed some sheets out for my brother and me and went home.
Ezekiel wasn’t interested at first, but – but I needed him, especially for the extra authenticity of it all. That boy was good with that electronic shit. I says to him, you don’t even gotta’ put money in it. I will. And them farmers were complaining about their pricing. We can undercut them to hell and still make tons of fucking cash. He agreed after that…[pause]
He made up some logos and a alias in under a day. All free. He was smart…[pause]
It was called Cleanings for Compost. The cover was that we cleaned up the roadkill ‘round the way and put it up into neat little holes for compost to sell to these bastards, or any donations they gave from their dead livestock – which was zero. Cheap fucks.
Anyways, I made sure they signed them papers before I went out and bought the small amount of supplies we needed. Cheap as all dirt and local? They used them fat fingers faster than you could say dead body.
We few bought bales of straw, couple of shovels, cheap-ass custom shirts, and simple cleaning supplies.
The straw was important for the compost itself – carbonation and some shit like that. Wanted some fresh shovels for the tough ground we were situated at. Custom shirts for the look, and the cleaning supplies as some mock up bullshit too. The crossbows were where the actual gold came from.
He – Ezekiel questioned them when I dusted them off, the naivety still blooming through his skull. I told him, we would never in the whole Goddamn world-ever have enough roadkill to make proper compost. AND in time. It made him stagnant for a day, until he realized how much he needed the money while I dug out them holes myself in the backyard…[pause]
What’s the damn plan then? He asks me one evening.
Simple as shit – take the wooded roads and look for any extra meat. Use the night to hunt down our real sources. Them woods ain’t being fucked with anyways. We’ll be fine. I says.
We started early winter, ‘round December. Days were used for pushing our cover up and actually doing our job. As I guessed, roadkill was far and few between – and usually mush by the time we rolled up. Half the time it was only enough to ash a cig’ out and pack up for throwaway. Least we could do for the stupid critters. We’d call it a day by four in the evening. Pack up, take a nap, and change out supplies for the nightly rendezvous…[pause]
We were used to camping out in those boonies. Pa always took us when he was on the lam.
So, all of them nights out there were focused on camping and killing – anything.
Best ones were the deer – bucks and doe. Didn’t matter which one. They both filled an entire hole by themselves. Small ones weren’t out of the question. We picked those critters out too. Racoons, coyotes, wild dogs, possums. We even managed to catch the rats with our bare hands. Slam them against the tree for good measure. Either way it all went into them holes back at the house. Piles of mulch, and meat, and death.
The hunts went well for a minute. The piles were growing and we were going to meet our quota. But then the nights changed…[pause]
The weird shit started happening at the end of March. With the spring showers right around the corner…[pause]
The woods – something else awakened within them.
Ezekiel noticed the shift long before me.
You know, I don’t hear the crickets no more?
What that got to do with us? I’d say – he would stop talking after that…[pause]
But then I noticed too. The sounds of woodland life vanished little by little and it began to be replaced by other sounds…[pause]
God-forsaken sounds. Stuff that ain’t belong over there. Or – or something long lost.
Shit really began with the fallen trees.
On the slow nights while I was snapping some shut eye and he kept watch –
I’d awake to the sound of what echoed like shattering-fucking-glass. A whole mess of it.
Fallen trees? Ezekiel would say.
Has to be. I’d reply.
Another time, while we were stalking our first buck in days, we began to hear the unnatural. Shit that was too human. I mean – for the wilds, human sounds were unnatural.
Hoots and hollers kept us at bay that week. One night –
Ezekiel says, You don’t hear the crying?
What? He’d have me confused. The question came out of the left field.
The sobbing? I swear I hear someone sobbing, dude.
No way in all of the levels of hell.
Yeah, no way…
I’d stick my ear out, but I never heard no crying. Thought them nights had him hearing things.
Began to scare the shit out of us. We ain’t never shown it to each other but fear has a smell to it, and an unwavering energy that makes you look at one another a little longer…[pause]
We kept going, though. Or I – I made him…[pause]
Well shit, don’t we have enough? He asks one day.
No.
Something is wrong out there, man. I mean what –
Shits weird but we’ll start taking the guns. Don’t be a fucking pussy, that magnum’ll stop anything…
Our courage was brought along with some good old three-fifty-seven magnums. Held them tighter than a woman who filled up a lonely bed. Even if we didn’t want to admit it.
The hunting picked up again…[pause]
Picked up at the end of April. Got some nice pickings and the mood began to lighten up under the darkness of the woods. Found a hefty buck this one week. Ezekiel got to take that big fucker down – it was a moment. I could still see his lopsided grin…[pause]
The cutoff was right at the beginning of this month. May.
Them woods stopped showing up for us. We went three whole nights tracking nothing but scratch. Came up with nothing but leaves and bark. Not even a sighting of a damn mouse. Set up bait and all of that extra shit. Still absolutely nothing.
The sounds died again but this time they were replaced by more silence. Them nights felt like we were deaf to the world. Deaf to everything.
On the fourth night – the final night – we found a fresh dump. A sign from God, I thought.
This is it, Zeke. Our turn around.
Hope so, man.
I could tell he was getting sick of them nights…[pause]
I was hoping for a good catch. Found a nice set of tracks to follow through the brush that led from the pile of shit itself. There was even a cold breeze that usually brought rain. Things were looking good. Until the stench hit our nose and we spotted the glow of a fire in the distance.
The rotting smell of burning meat and hair tugged on our face muscles as we approached it. I remember seeing sweat on Zeke’s temple as I glanced at him. We found a nice-overlaying-ridge and looked into a small clearing…[pause]
The flame rose from a pit, cracking dead branches into ash. There was a large pile of lifeless mice next to it, strewn about like they were being tossed in, and a line of them led into the darkness. Their burning gave the air that punchy smell. We should’ve never been there.
All the sound of the woodland returned with the first sight of the beast. A tree slammed down into the soil just shy of us both as the wind began to howl through the leaves and snuff out the fire that danced light across our immediate area. We were submerged into the woodland black.
The all too familiar taste of pennies ran up my throat as something large stepped towards us. I tasted raw fear and adrenaline – The moonlight – bits of moonlight cut through the woods and revealed a hulking-mass-of-death. Our death.
It – it gargled on its own remains as it stood facing us. Steady drops of liquid drummed onto the ground as it shifted its weight. Its shadow resembled a boulder poking out from a mountain’s side. Fucking huge. Something that could crush you with its weight alone. The parts that were uncovered by the moon twitched in agony. On top of its giant ‘head’ was a fuck ton of antlers and hooves that jut out of – everywhere. The – the woods stitched our work back together – and it was there to punish us. I looked upon my compost creation in the flesh.
I grabbed Zeke by the shoulder and we started running. Straight through darkness cast in more fucking darkness…[pause]
You could hear the tree's roots come up from the soil as it shoved itself forward. My chest heaved as them woods began to grab at our feet. Everything was against us.
Ezekiel went down first and ate a mouthful of dead leaves. I stopped and caught my ankle in between two roots, twisted that son of a bitch into another reality. Sent me down too…[pause]
It was right there. It had us – Zeke – My little brother was closest to it as I reached down for my gun. The boy froze – he fucking froze! Stared at the big ball of plague like he couldn’t-do-anything.
It picked him up by his right arm as he screamed – screamed like momma when she found out her sister died. They – they were always alike…[pause]
All of its rotting animal heads grinned with rows of red teeth as it made him eye to eye with itself. Then the screams of the beast cut out the sounds of woodland night. Warbled messes of crying and angry howls filled up our ears. I could see the tears streaming down his face…[pause]
Multiple hooves, paws, and claws reached out for his torso and tugged on his hunting clothes. The coyote head on its legs began to nibble on his shattered shin. My baby brother began to plead, to – to God – to – to me – to the world.
I couldn’t take it…[pause]
I – I – I shot, hoping that round could take a chunk off that big fucker. It phased through like – like the beast was made of air. Fucking air!
Zeke – he – begged me to finish him as the rotting drool smeared over his hair. His eyes were red and wet. It was going to eat him. You could see the hunger in it. For us.
I — I Aimed one at his chest and one at his head. The flash blinded me and the gunfire drummed out all the sound. I put the heated metal up to my own chin, ready to die before the fucker decided to grab me next. But then I heard it – laugh. It fucking laughed like grinding two pieces of wood against each other. I opened my eyes and the world came back in a fuzz – a blur. All I could see was the shape of my dead brother as the laugh faded away.
The beast was gone just as the woods settled back into silence.
I swear. I swear it upon anything holy within my life – GOD STRIKE ME DOWN! That fucker was there and gone like a goddamned ghost.
I crawled over to my baby brother and sobbed into his corpse. I killed him, but it wasn’t intentional. It was – [pause]
Ezekiel knew it wasn’t right and I still kept dragging him along…[pause]
I ain’t sure of what we saw that night, but this shit is truer than God himself. He punished us. The earth punished us. Them woods punished us. I keep praying Zeke found salvation up there. I was the one that coaxed him into it and I – I pray to God that he knows that.
I just wish it grabbed me instead.
It was never intentional, your honor, but I am guiltier than sin itself. If putting myself under the jail means he has that salvation, then so be it. I just hope you see my reasoning. Never was it intentional. It was mercy – I wasn’t about to let him become a part of that – that thing. That curse. That manifestation of our own sins.
[end]
D&D Justice at Arms™
David Lowentil,
Attorney at Law
(Thank you for reading. I appreciate it. Special thanks to , and for helping in the process of putting this together into its final form.)
Wow! This was horrifying. The method you chose to let the story unfold was perfect. I really felt immersed in the horror. Loved it!
Beautiful. Everything about this worked. "Manifestation of our sins" was such a delicious cherry on top!