Hi nosleep! I have my grandfather here who wrote a little story about one of his creepy experiences as a teenager. Thought I'd share it with you guys after I read it. If you have any questions feel free to ask but no guarantees gramp will answer any.
I was 19 years old when I got my first real job. I worked at a small diner in Houston, Texas and made around $50 a week for working 40 hours as a cashier. It was quite nice - the people were friendly, I enjoyed time with my co-workers, and the food was fantastic. However, my enjoyable times were abruptly interrupted by a tragic event during a sunny and dry June. I remember that month clearly, as it was the month I had purchased my tickets to see The Beatles who were visiting Houston in August, and it was also the month where I met the girl of my dreams who would later leave Texas 2 years later in pursuit of a business career in a new franchise called "T.G.I. Fridays", which had just been established 3 months before I met her. Sadly, I would never see her again, but not everyone gets the happy ending they always wanted. I shouldn't complain though - I've been married to an amazing woman for 46 years now.
To begin my retelling of the horrific events that occurred in June, I'll introduce you to a sweet elderly couple. The elderly man was named Fred, and he frequently attended the diner in order to deliver meats. I always found this slightly peculiar because he didn't appear to be a butcher of sorts, but despite the fact, he delivered us meat and we payed him and no questions were asked. He was a nice guy - very polite and kind, typical of most elderly people such as myself. I only ever had the pleasure of meeting his wife once, whose name I didn't catch, but based off the news reports detailing the events of June, her name was Edwina. I remember conversing with Fred briefly about how things were going during average small talk. The only thing of interest he ever really mentioned was a slightly mysterious son of his, who had dropped out of Texas A&M University quite a while back. He said he had lost touch with his son, and he thought about him everyday and was worried about where he was and how he could be doing. I felt bad for the guy; it must have been heart wrenching having a son and not knowing where he was or how he was doing. But of course this was all a lie, as the reports indicated.
The beginning of my bizarre and tragic experience in June occurred on the 20th, on a routine Sunday meat drop-off. My shift was ending soon and I was eager to help unload the meat and rush back to my apartment. I helped him lug the big bags of frozen meat into the cooler until the truck was empty and payed him so he could leave and be on his way. Despite being a cashier, my manager often had me doing other "more important" tasks such as helping Fred. They could be annoying at times, but as are most jobs. Luckily I only worked Wednesday-Sunday for 8 hours a day, which meant I had arrived on my weekly 2-day break. I headed back to my apartment, which was paid for by my parents, and passed out on the couch. The next 2 days I didn't do much but sleep in an attempt to enjoy my time off.
I woke up groggy and tired on early Wednesday morning, and after spending an eternity getting ready for the day, I was on my way to work. Today was burger Wednesday, which was the only day we served our specialty burgers which featured a vast menu of various toppings and unique combinations. I arrived 10 minutes early and my manager immediately put me on another "more important" task, but I was perfectly content with doing it. He instructed me to go into the cooler and wheel the cart of ground beef to the kitchen since the chefs were busy prepping the grill. I remember strolling into the cooler still half asleep, grabbing the cart, and slowly pulling it to the kitchen. After arriving, one of the chefs named Jon, who was a great guy I should add, asked me if I could open the first bag and empty it into a pan next to the stove. I complied, and began opening the first bag but immediately stopped upon the first sight I saw while peering into the mixture of ground beef. I dropped the bag and shouted for Jon, and he came rushing over, which attracted the attention of the other 2 chefs whose curiosity led them to join Jon in inspecting the bag as well. Among the ground beef laid what resembled a human thumb. It was severed from the knuckle in what looked like a brutal and painful cut.
The thing I remember the most was the fear and chaos. You could feel it in the air as all of the employees were spilling with questions involving what the beef was really made of. Even after the police arrived, everyone was unnerved and frightened. I could only think of Fred who had delivered that bag of beef the previous Sunday. He seemed so innocent. Our manager sent us all home, and the day was finished without a single customer entering the store. That would be my last day working at the diner.
For the next few days, answers poured out through phone calls received from co-workers and from my manager. The police tore down the doors of Fred and Edwina Rogers on that Wednesday, which had been the 23rd of June, 1965. They inspected the house thoroughly only to eventually stumble upon the severed heads of Fred and Edwina being stored in the refrigerator, along with their severed legs and torsos which had been finely skinned and washed to look like ordinary meat. The only drops of blood in the scene had apparently led to the attic where their son Charles had been staying. Nobody knew Charles had been staying with them - in fact the elderly couple never talked about him and claimed they didn't know where he was. But the police didn't find Charles, and to this day they have no idea where he is. They believe he was the one giving meat to his father, which would be delivered to our diner promptly every Sunday night only to be served to the hungry souls that entered our diner. In addition to this, the police believe Charles may have claimed up to 5 additional victims based off missing persons reports in the area, and they also believe his parents were knowingly delivering human meat to the diner and were in fact working with their son.
To this day, the case remains unsolved as Charles has yet to be found. It is unknown why he killed his parents, or if his parents were actually involved with the previous murders. Charles was presumed dead in 1975, and the case remains cold.
There are a lot of crazy theories about who Charles really was, so for those whose curiosities extend beyond my first-hand experience, you can see the details for yourself - all you need to do is search online. I believe they've given the case the name of "The Ice Box Murders".
Submitted March 11, 2015 at 10:48PM by spartenbeny http://ift.tt/1KXbePO nosleep
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