Skin creepypasta

Our story takes place in the year of 1972, where Rebekah learns the hard way that sometimes ignorance is bliss....

The room was warm, too warm for Rebekah's liking. Days like these, she would often imagine that her small bedroom was a fortress of heat, like a lobby to Hell itself. Despite the lights being turned off and the curtains being drawn to block the sun from coming through, nothing could stop the harsh rays from bombarding their way in. Rebekah lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, as she had done every morning for the past week since she's graduated high school. She was the top student in her class, and had received five acceptances to the top universities in the country. Rebekah turned to her side trying to fight the memory that has brought her the most pain, as she threw the sheet over her head and closed her eyes tightly, trying to escape it all.

Rebekah ran home from the post office that day, laughing and crying so exuberantly as she clutched the open envelope, the run was 5km, but it felt like nothing. Nothing could steal Rebekah's happiness now. When her home came in her view, she turned too sharply and skid on the dirt road. She embarrassingly laughed at herself and stood up and quickly examined her pants, making sure that they had no holes or tears in them, as her mother would lose her temper and Rebekah would never hear the end of it. When everything was all clear, Rebekah ran up the porch steps and bust open the screen door. Her parents who were both in the kitchen turned their heads and looked at her in concern, wanting to make sure nothing happened that was devastating.

“I got in!” Rebekah shouted, with her hands on her knees for support as she tried to catch her breath. She lifted her head up to observe her parents, who were intently reading her acceptance letter. Rebekah felt her way to a chair and plummeted herself in the seat, exhausted and ecstatic at the exact same time. “I got into Harvard, Mutti” Rebekah's mother looked at her and smiled sheepishly before turning right back to the letter

“All those hours of writing that essay, about life changes when we moved to the United States from Germany, they absolutely loved it! This is a dream come true for me!” Rebekah got up and walked towards her parents, she was a little bit unsure of how their reaction was. Her father put his hand on her shoulder, and with pride in his voice told her that “Mutti and I are very proud of your achievement, Rebekah” That was all she needed to hear. She ran up to her room and jumped on her bed, she was finally going to have a life worth living.

That night her mother had prepared Rebekah's favourite meal, and even let her have a small glass of wine. This custom was only ever allowed on the most special occasions. Shortly after dinner, her father had sent all five of Rebekah's younger siblings outside to play, and then joined Rebekah and her mother in the kitchen to lay the heartbreaking news that she was not allowed to go to Harvard. Rebekah had never been hit with grief so hard in her life, between sobs she questioned her parents over and over “Why not?” in the hopes they would run out of reasons and let her go after all.

Rebekah's mother took a deep breath and calmly explained that “There are eight mouths to feed in this house, Rebekah. The cost to live and go to school at Harvard is nearly what your father brings in annually. I'm sorry, we just cannot afford to send you to college. I must be honest, I also cannot afford to lose the helping hands around here with your brothers and sisters.” Rebekah slammed her fist on the table. “That isn't fair! I worked so hard to get this letter! My whole life is dependent on going to school!” Rebekah buried her face in her hands as she sobbed in front of her parents at the table, she could feel the tears roll from her face and down her hands.

Rebekah's mother ran her fingers through her hair in frustration and then pointed to the crucifix hanging above the kitchen door. “Do not think your plan is better than His, Rebekah.” Without even thinking, Rebekah laughed out loud in her mother's face and slowly but surely managed to mutter through angry breaths “Fuck His plan.”

Before she could even blink, she was pinned to the wall by her father who was shouting in her face “What did you say?” she could see his hand raise higher, she could feel the sweat roll off her forehead in anticipation of the pain that was about to take over her body. Just as he was about to strike, Rebekah squinted her eyes open, just to take a look and was surprised and relieved at her surroundings.

She was safe in her bedroom, relieved that the sweat on her pillow and collar of her shirt was caused by the blazing heat of a June morning, and not the adrenaline of just getting a beating from her father. Rebekah heard a light knock on her bedroom door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening, something her mother always did.

“Time to get ready for service, Rebekah.” She said as she sat on her bed. “I know this acceptance letter thing has been hard on you, so I was thinking maybe you could ask Father O'Hare to publish your essay in the Parish Newsletter. It's a very good essay, darling.” Rebekah remained silent until her mother got the hint to leave her alone. Rebekah's mother shook her head and left her bedroom, Rebekah waited until she could hear her mother go down the steps before sitting up. She contemplated making herself throw up so she could avoid leaving the comfort of her bed, but didn't think it was worth it.

“I know it's good, Mutti. That's why I was accepted into the nation's top fucking college.” She angrily muttered to herself as she got up and angrily shuffled through her drawers for something to wear that wouldn't result in old Catholic ladies giving her dirty looks. Rebekah hated Sundays, more importantly now more than ever, she hated God.

It's funny to think, perhaps if Rebekah would have purged herself, it could be her telling this story.

Rebekah's family parish was indeed a small one, as practising Roman Catholics were nearly extinct in these parts. Rebekah alongside her family walked into the old, decrepit church as one would walk inside a prison. She looked over at her family, her stomach turning at the idea of committing her life to serving them, soon enough her father would come home talking about a man he'd like her to marry. Then she would end up just like her mother, somebody she swore to herself she'd never become.

Rebekah sat at the furthest side of the pew with her family, and observed the other people entering the old church doors. Father O'Hare was standing at the doors, greeting families and offering a dab of Holy Water so people could cleanse themselves before they step in. Rebekah hated that man, he was the ultimate charmer of women and she only imagined what horrors happened in the basement of the church during Sunday school. She sat staring menacingly at the priest, gripping her rosary just enough to release all the anger, but not enough to break the rosary and cause a scene, which would later result in the belt from her father once they returned home. Rebekah's angered concentration was soon broken by the warm, friendly voice of the congregation's most beloved members: the Duchesne's.

The Duchesne's were the most wealthy family in town, and have been for generations. What made them so likeable was how humble they were despite their financial situation, and were always the most charitable to those who truly needed it. Their charity only grew more with the death of their only daughter, Edith.

There was not much to say about Edith, she was a spinster at best, if not the definition of the term itself. She lived with her parents in their mansion on the hill, and was never seen outside Sunday service. Edith was a plain woman, who even in her early forties, never married. Early last year, she died of a “disease of the lungs” Rebekah's mother would say. Rebekah didn't know much about her, only remembered that she had a very close relationship to her father, and that Mr. Duchesne was devastated when Edith passed away, he didn't leave their house for days. The Duchesne's didn't even hold a funeral, just a mass in her honour the following Sunday. Some people in town believed that the grief of Edith passing away is what brought on Mrs. Duchesne's skin cancer. Now it was only Zelda and Vernon who came to mass every week, and despite Zelda's condition and them both being in their advancing seventies, they never missed a service.

The Duchesne's walked up to the pew in front of Rebekah's family very slowly, before either of the two could sit down, Mr. Duchesne got in a terrible coughing fit and began to fumble around his coat pocket looking for a handkerchief. Rebekah couldn't help but notice the fresh red blood in the handkerchief once Mr. Duchesne pulled it away, quick to realize Rebekah's glare, shined her a friendly smile and looked to the rest of her family “Good morning, Neufeld's!”. In almost perfect unison, all eight of the Neufeld's smiled and wished a good morning back to him. Mr. Duchesne simply nodded, then turned to join his wife. Moments later, Father O'Hare walked to the front of the Church and began his long and dry sermon, and Rebekah struggled to keep awake throughout the duration.

Once the sermon was finally over, Rebekah's parents were quick to join the Duchesne's as what happens most every Sunday. Rebekah sat under the willow tree in the Church yard hoping to catch any kind of shade against the blistering heat and also hoping her mother could be quick, so she could fake an illness and lay in her bed all day. This time, oddly enough, Rebekah could see her mother from a distance, waving her on to join the conversation. Rebekah got up, wiped the sweat from her forehead and walked reluctantly over, the last thing she wanted to talk about was her acceptance into Harvard.

“We have been speaking with your mother and father about your acceptance into Harvard University. How absolutely wonderful, you must be very proud of yourself” Mr. Duchesne said while taking Rebekah's hands into his. Her heart sunk, she was indeed very proud of herself and also very ashamed she couldn't go. Mrs. Duchesne touched Rebekah's shoulder. “You know, you are so lucky to live in a society where a woman can be educated. That is why we sent our Edith to medical school and she excelled. It was her dream to help burn victims rebuild themselves after such severe scarring. If you were to walk in our home now, you would still find her library on how to perform skin graphs” Mrs. Duchesne said and let out a small, weak laugh.

Rebekah lifted her head slightly to see that Mr. Duchesne was definitely fighting back tears, he took a breath before saying “That is why Zelda and I have been thinking about providing the same kind of opportunity for brilliant girls to have the same kind of quality education our Edith had.” Mr Duchesne paused to have another coughing fit which resulted in another splat of fresh blood, he shook his head and continued. “Truth is, Rebekah. Zelda and I's health is declining, and well, with Edith as our only heir, we really have no means to our estate, except for the hefty donation to the church of course.” Rebekah's heart began to race, as she knew what was coming up next.

Mrs. Duchesne gave a quick glance to her husband and cleared her throat before taking over. “We know times are hard for you and your family, Rebekah. All this being said, we are ready to cut you a deal I think you will be more than happy with.” Rebekah's eyes widened. She felt her body nearly burst with excitement she could hardly manage to mutter “What deal would that be?”

“Keeping up with our home has become nearly arduous for Vernon and I because of our condition. Rebekah, if you stay in our home for the summer months and help tend our estate, Vernon and I will pay your schooling for the next four years in full.” Rebekah's jaw dropped and she couldn't help but have a few of the most happy tears stream down her face. She quickly turned to look at her parents, who both nodded in approval. Things were finally changing for the better. The request seemed so small, she was used to taking care of others because of all the siblings she had to care for over the years alongside her mother and also, spending a couple months in the Duchesne mansion would feel like paradise compared to the tiny farm house her family lived in.

“I'm so glad you're okay with this, I would give you a hug, but any kind of touch to my skin is terribly painful. The summer months tend to be the most difficult.” Mrs. Duchesne touched Rebekah's shoulder so gently. “You better start packing, my dear. We'll see you tomorrow.” With that, the Duchesne's said their goodbyes to the Neufelds and headed home.

Rebekah turned to her parents and gave them both the most genuine, thankful hug she's ever given. “Thank you so much, Mutti. I know this must be difficult for you.” Rebekah's mother linked arms with her daughter, and they began walking towards their car. “You know, your father and I decided to bring our family here because there was no opportunity for us back where we were from in Germany, not unless you wanted to be a Mennonite. It would be completely against our initial cause to deny you this opportunity. You are truly brilliant, Rebekah. Harvard is very lucky to have you.” she kissed Rebekah's forehead and with that, Rebekah and her family got inside the car and made the trek home.

As Rebekah had expected, life with the Duchesne's was as simple as she'd expected, in fact even easier. Rebekah had prepared herself to need to assist Mr. and Mrs. Duchesne with their medications, or with getting in and out of bed every morning, what was expected of her was quite the contrary. It was the simplest chores such as dishes and laundry that needed to be done. The elderly couple were also really easy to get along with, even though some of Mrs. Duchesne's requests were a little out of the ordinary, Rebekah just assumed it came with the generation they were from. The entire west wing of the house where the bedroom belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Duchesne was strictly prohibited for Rebekah to enter. Even Edith's bedroom and medical room had the same strict enforcement. Still in disbelief that the Duchesne's were doing such a huge favour for her, Rebekah dare not question why.

One morning, while Rebekah was cleaning the kitchen she couldn't help but notice her own breath while grouting the floor tiles. It was one of Mr. Duchesne's bad days, and Rebekah turned her head to see that he was asleep in the next room and that Mrs. Duchesne was nodding on and off in the chair next to him herself. “It's fucking freezing” she thought to herself as she rubbed her arms for warmth. “There is no way that this kind of cold could be good for either of them.” With this as her conclusion, Rebekah tip-toed down to the main hallway, careful not to wake the couple, and turned off the air conditioning.

“Better” Rebekah thought to herself, and very quickly and quietly, returned back to her work in the kitchen. It seemed like only minutes later, the house turned to a more comfortable temperature, which was soon abolished as the rays of the July sun beamed in through the windows and provided warmth throughout the entire mansion. Rebekah was very much used to doing chores in the heat, as her family never had the luxury of an air conditioner. What bothered Rebekah, was the absolutely terrible stench of rotting meat that seemed to consume the air.

Rebekah's stomach churned as she continued to work and breathe in the scent. “Where the hell is this coming from?” she thought to herself as she grabbed a glass of water to try and soothe her stomach. Rebekah looked in the refrigerator for anything that has possibly gone bad, when everything was fine there, she turned her attention to the garbage bin under the kitchen sink, but still could not find anything that would cause the putrid stench. All of a sudden the stench came over Rebekah a hundred times stronger than before, like a tidal wave consuming every inch in it's path. Rebekah was mortified when she turned to see the cause of such a horrid smell: Mrs. Duchesne

“Rebekah! Perhaps one of the most important rules of the house, do not change the temperature unless instructed to do so!” Mrs. Duchesne cried while waving her finger at Rebekah, while trying her hardest to not yell. Rebekah was more than just a little unsure as to why Mrs. Duchesne was so upset, Rebekah herself was struggling not to vomit at the stench that was so pervasive in the room, she took a step back before pleading “I'm really sorry, Mrs. Duchesne. It was freezing, I could see my own breath inside the house! I just didn't want you or Mr. Duchesne to catch a cold-” Rebekah was at a loss for words, she had never seen anything more disturbing in her life.

“What's the matter?” Mrs. Duchesne asked, a little more than impatient as she placed her hands on her hips. To Rebekah's horror, she couldn't help but notice that underneath Mrs. Duchesne's weathered left eye, the skin was beginning to sag down and peel away from her face, what shocked her the most was that there was no blood or bone, just another layer of fresh skin. One could even argue it looked younger. Rebekah couldn't bear the sight any longer and quickly turned her head away as she grasped the kitchen counter behind her. “I'm terribly sorry if this sounds strange, Mrs. Duchesne but, your face is peeling!” Rebekah quickly glanced back and felt terrible after she saw the look of embarrassment on Mrs. Duchesne's face. Mrs. Duchesne quickly covered her eye and frantically cried out “Turn on the air conditioning, never touch it again!” before walking as quickly as her frail body would let her towards the west wing and into their bedroom.

For the rest of the day, Rebekah couldn't help but play the scene in the kitchen with Mrs. Duchesne over and over again in her head. That fresh layer of skin underneath. Not one drop of blood, and how could she not even realize her face was peeling? These questions played over and over in Rebekah's mind, and even though hours had passed and it was now time for dinner, Rebekah still felt unsettled joining them for the meal that she prepared.

Between very small bites, as Rebekah's appetite was non existent, she studied the dining hall, particularly the massive portrait of Edith that was mounted on the wall directly behind Mrs. Duchesne. Out of all the years that Rebekah had gone to the same congregation as the Duchesne family, she never took a moment to really study Edith. She definitely had her mother's eyes and facial structure, but the most plain features she had ever seen. Rebekah's concentration was broken by Mrs. Duchesne, who cleared her throat and placed her napkin on her lap. “Rebekah, I would just like to apologize about this morning. I should have mentioned it to you earlier, I wear special skin graphs on my face as my natural skin was mostly removed because it was cancerous. The graph is very expensive, and temperature is vital. If anything becomes too hot, I start melting like a candle!” Mrs. Duchesne let out a laugh that was also joined in by Mr. Duchesne. He looked over at Rebekah and smiled warmly “We hope Zelda didn't scare you, or make you think she was angry with you.” Rebekah studied the old couple. If there was anything on earth Rebekah could determine, it was a lie. Something was slightly off, all she could think about was that fresh layer. She took a sip out of her glass of water before saying “Oh of course not, I'm sorry I made a scene.” Mrs. Duchesne smiled at Rebekah, and the rest of dinner was quiet.

For the following nights, Rebekah lay in her bed thinking of scenarios that would result in Mrs. Duchesne's 'skin graph' peeling again. Perhaps one night she could tip toe down and toy with the air conditioner again in the middle of the night, and the next morning Mrs. Duchesne's face would be entirely different. Rebekah quickly thought against it, because nothing was worth that smell again. She also imagined if something awful were to happen that set the mansion on fire, would she be able to glimpse at the second layer of Mrs. Duchesne in it's entirety. Rebekah sat up in bed and shook her head, feeling stupid that she was being so paranoid. “That's one hell of a skin graph” she thought to herself as she turned around into the plethora of goose feather pillows. Rebekah all of a sudden remembered an old friend from her early childhood in Germany. Her name was Eva and Rebekah remembered that her house caught on fire, and Eva's family had to get her a skin graph to fix her face, but it still looked horribly burned. Rebekah turned to her other side. The Duchesne's had always been wealthy, it's not completely crazy to think that they could afford to buy Mrs. Duchesne a whole new face, is it? Rebekah's train of thought came to a sudden halt when Mr. Duchesne's voice was heard throughout the mansion.

“Edith!” He cried. Rebekah sat up, confused about how she should react about the entire situation. “Poor guy, must have night terrors” is what she tried to convince herself is what was happening, but somehow she felt in her bones it was a much different situation. “Oh, Edith!” Mr. Duchesne's voice echoed even louder throughout the house only this time it was accompanied with heavy, rapid knocking against the walls and a much younger woman's giggle accompanying it. Rebekah was the eldest of six children, and was pretty certain she'd heard the conception to the youngest few of her siblings. With a large churn in her stomach and a look of absolute disgust on her face mumbled in complete repulsion to herself “He's fucking having sex.” Rebekah threw herself back in bed and buried her head under the pillows. “Something is fucked up, and I'm gonna find out exactly what it is” she thought to herself before dozing off to a night of very light sleep.

Rebekah woke up feeling nauseous. Maybe things would be better off if she just never took the Duchesne's offer, and stayed home in the comfort of her small farm house where the warmth of the bed she'd laid most of her life in was, where the smell of bread baking and the sound of her mother humming songs from the old country all lived. As Rebekah prepared breakfast for the Duchesne's, she thought of her family and felt a pang of home sickness as sharp as a knife. At least back home she could sleep soundly without the knowledge that the town's most respectable man was cheating on his wife for some young woman who was pretending to be his dead daughter. Rebekah tried to shake the thought out of her head. Tonight she would be sure to find out exactly what was going on, and that was a promise.

The day seemed to go on like an eternity, but it was finally around the time the Duchesne's retired for the night. Rebekah watched Mrs. Duchesne struggle a little bit to get up and walk down the hall towards the west wing, and felt terrible for her. That her husband can do something so despicable to her, especially in her condition. Rebekah waited until she could see that all the lights in the west wing were turned off before quickly scampering to the main room of the house and carefully looking out the window for any sign of a woman trying to get in. Rebekah had every intention of catching Mr. Duchesne in the act and relaying it back to his wife. It seemed like hours past and still, Rebekah saw nothing but could feel her eyes getting heavy. The idea of retiring back to her bedroom became more and more convincing until she heard a voice coming from the west wing. A woman, much younger than seventy-six.

Rebekah ever so carefully turned her body and made her way very slowly to the entrance of the west wing. Rebekah quickly froze behind the wall when the voice returned. “Just a minute, and let me go put more of that solution on. Seems I've let it go for too long, doesn't stick to the flesh as well anymore” Rebekah was unsure, it seems that would be Mrs. Duchesne speaking about her skin graph, but the voice was so different. She quickly peered her face over to see exactly what was going on and was surprised to see that it was Mrs. Duchesne exiting the room, only she was walking quite effortlessly with a swing in her hips that everybody who knew Mrs. Duchesne knew that she hadn't been able to walk without a slight limp in decades. Rebekah could not help but be intrigued and slightly afraid of what she could discover, but decided the best course of action would be to get inside the west wing.

Rebekah waited for Mrs. Duchesne to return to bed before attempting to explore this forbidden side of the house. She turned to glance at the room directly to her left, and despite the hallway being completely dark, she managed to read the shiny plaque on the door:

Medical Study of Edith Mary Duchesne, M.D, MBChB, D.O

Rebekah couldn't help but feel that she was fighting with herself to go inside, she knew the answer to everything would be in this room and that is what terrified her. Rebekah turned the knob lightly and pushed the door slowly so that nobody would hear her sneak in. Everything inside was pitch black, Rebekah felt her way for any means of light and was relieved to find a candle and a pack of matches. Once she was able to see, Rebekah was amazed with what she saw. The walls were covered by shelves stacked with hundreds of books on the same aspect of medicine, what Rebekah found most intriguing were the volumes titled “Journal of Dr. Edith M. Duchesne” with the corresponding year beside it. With her finger she traced along down the time line but felt an overwhelming feeling of unease when she saw one dated for “1972”.

Rebekah grabbed the book off the shelf and chose a random entry, in hoped that perhaps maybe it was Mrs. Duchesne who started writing:

March 3rd, 1972

I'm finding that this time of the year is the most ideal and easiest time in preserving the skin. The climate is at a perfect temperature, not too cold (so application and removal is easy) and not too warm (where the flesh begins to decompose). It has been 389 days since I have been wearing the flesh off mother's corpse. This experiment has been a huge success thus far, from the day I began the experiment until now, nobody has ever commented or seemed to notice a change in appearance. Saying this, looking back I am glad I decided to remove all the flesh tissues from mother's body as I believe it is vital in people not noticing the physical difference. That, and that of course the Lord blessed me with the same body type as mother. I thank God everyday that he has allowed me to have the medical knowledge necessary to perform this type of procedure and to continue my relationship with father. We are both endlessly happy.

Rebekah closed the book and quickly tossed it on the desk. Her head was reeling, the room was spinning, she dropped to the floor and began to retch uncontrollably. Edith wasn't dead, Mrs. Duchesne was, Edith was only quite literally wearing her skin. Everything made complete sense now: the cold temperatures, why the west wing was completely forbidden, that awful rotting meat smell. What made Rebekah the most sick was that Mr. Duchesne was in on it completely. Edith did this so she could have an incestuous relationship with her father. Before Rebekah had any more time to even think about it, the door busted open and Rebekah could feel a presence standing over her

“Well, it appears somebody has been looking where they shouldn't be” Edith said, arms crossed standing over Rebekah who was still on the ground. “What the fuck did you do to her?!” Rebekah cried, struggling to stand up. Edith started to take a step backwards. “I don't know what you're talking about.” Rebekah began to laugh as she wiped the vomit away from her mouth.

“Don't give me that shit, Edith. You killed your own mother to be with your father. You wear her skin. Your own mother's dead skin you sick fucking bitch!” Rebekah tried to claw at her, but Edith caught her arm. “So you're not as daft as I thought you were, Rebekah. Don't talk to me like I'm immoral, the Lord says to love thy father, I seem to be the only one who understands that. I didn't want to be condemned from the Church my family built! That's why I'm wearing that wench's skin!” Edith's grip strengthened as she spewed her last words into Rebekah's face. “Yeah, love your father, sure. God never said to fuck him!” with that as a last remark, Rebekah elbowed Edith as hard as she could in the stomach and lunged underneath her and ran out of the office and into the hallway.

Edith fell to the ground but quickly crawled to grab Rebekah's leg, resulting in Rebekah falling face first onto the hardwood floor. She spit the blood out of her mouth and turned to see Edith practically on top of her with a knife in hand. “You should have watched yourself, Rebekah. You won't live to see fucking college!” Rebekah followed her first instinct to use all her strength in kicking Edith away, when Edith lunged backwards, Rebekah ran over to quickly steal the knife away.

“I will not let you turn me into a fucking costume like you did your mother, you crazy bitch! Any closer and you're dead!” Edith crawled backwards, trying to escape death. Rebekah breathed in heavily “I'm leaving, and everybody is going to know about you and how fucking crazy you are. To think anybody ever felt sorry for you!” With those as her final words to the Duchesne's, Rebekah turned to the front door, with tears streaming down her face and a heart full of want to get home to her mother and father, she opened the door to find Mr. Duchesne standing there gun in hand, and with a single shot, Rebekah's eyes widened and she fell to the ground. The pool of deep red getting larger and larger as Rebekah felt her life run farther and farther away....

Three Weeks Later

The knock on the door took the Duchesne's by surprise, as they normally never receive any visitors. Edith had a really good feeling as to whom exactly it was. She looked over at her father who nodded to her. They had rehearsed everything from the moment they dragged Rebekah's lifeless body to Edith's study. They could do this, they've done it before.

Edith, wearing her disguise of course, opened the door. “Sheriff McDonald. What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in.” The Sheriff stepped inside and took a look around the grand mansion before walking over and shaking Mr. Duchesne's hand. “I imagine you've heard about the disappearance of the Neufeld girl, yes?” The Sheriff asked taking a seat and pulling out a notepad. Edith shook her head in sorrow. “Yes, she worked with us for about a month. Told us one morning she was leaving to visit her family, and never came back. We've been worried sick. I've been telephoning her mother at least twice a week to see if she's turned up!” Edith reached out to hold Mr. Duchesne's hand. As the Sheriff took notes, Mr. Duchesne shot a quick wink at Edith before turning back to Sheriff McDonald. “Please say there's been some good news, Sheriff. We care so much for her.” The Sheriff gave a grave look. “I hate to break it to you folks, but it's this point in the investigation where we are close to assuming death.” Edith buried her face in her hands. Sheriff McDonald put his hand on Edith's shoulder. “Any detail about what happened that day would help us greatly.” Edith looked up and simply answered. “She made us eggs benedict for breakfast that morning and asked us over breakfast if she could visit her family, we said of course, and well-” Edith broke into tears. “That's the last time we saw her!” Mr. Duchesne put his arm around her. “That's really all we know, Sheriff.” he said sincerely. Sheriff McDonald nodded.

Mrs. Duchesne walked Sheriff McDonald to the front door. “Please do come see us again, Sheriff. We love visitors. And do bring your wife next time.” Sheriff McDonald smiled at her. “I will definitely let her know, she always told me how beautiful your house was decorated when she came on over to collect community donations, now I know what she's talking about.” Edith smiled warmly at the Sheriff. “How kind of you.” Sheriff McDonald scratched his head and laughed. “Now don't laugh too much at me now, but it is my wife's birthday in about a month and I really want to get her something nice for the house. That chair I was sitting in, that was really sharp. Where is it from?” Edith's eyes widened. “Oh that? That is our newest addition, just received it recently. We got it imported from Europe.” Edith turned to see that the Sheriff was taking notes on the chair. “Europe, huh? Well it's really nice and smooth to the touch. I imagine that's real leather right?”

Edith turned to look at the chair sitting in their main room, and laughed. “Of course it is, Sheriff. Straight from Germany”

Submitted July 30, 2015 at 08:28PM by historydropout http://ift.tt/1H6tCNR creepypasta