My name is Roy. I'm a farmer, not a writer, so I apologize in advance for my poor grammar and any spelling errors you might come across.
I live in a small town of about 500 people in Southern Illinois. I've lived here all 56 years of my life, and have never seen anything like what I saw yesterday. I'm still so shaken up and haven't been able to eat much. My wife, Edith (we call her Edie), is real worried about me. Right now I'm the least of my own worries though. If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you my story from the beginning.
Like I said, I'm a farmer in a real small town where we all know one another. Edie and I raised cattle on the farm several years back, but now I strictly focus on my crops. I've got hundreds of acres of land scattered all across the county, and my brother and nephew help me out quite a bit when they've got some time. Farming is all I've ever really known. Where I'm from we have "town" and we have "country." Town is where the stores and schools are, and the country is where the farms and fields are. My kids have always hated living in the country because they have a longer bus ride to school every day, but I don't think it gets much better than seeing the sunset from a tractor in an open field on summer nights.
Yesterday, I was in the tractor checking out some of my crops in the West Bottoms. My tractor doesn't have air conditioning, but the radio works great. I was listening to 94.1 The Bull, which has been my favorite station for years, when I saw a young boy, probably around 12 years old, on a 4-wheeler driving pretty fast down a dirt road nearby. This is common where we live and I didn't think much of it. Sometimes boys drive too fast - that's just how they're programmed. They've got that need for speed, you know? I waved to the kid and he nodded in return, and I went about my business. But when I circled around at the end of the row of corn a few minutes later, I saw that his 4-wheeler had flipped over.
I was real worried about the kid on account of how fast he had been going when I first saw him. I shut down my tractor and began running as fast as my old beer belly would allow. I could hear the kid screaming in agony. It's something I'll never be able to forget - that piercing, terrifying scream. But nothing could prepare me for what happened next.
I watched as an old blue Ford pickup pulled up alongside the kid. I was instantly relieved that someone was able to get to him so soon, but then I watched that bastard snatch that kid up in broad daylight. The boy had a broken arm, and I could see that his forearm was snapped in half. They drug this poor kid by his broken arm into the truck. He had blood all over his face and neck and he was screaming for me to save him. He begged me to help him. We made eye contact, and that look in his eye makes me cry even now. He was so afraid. I've gotta tell you I have never felt so f*cking helpless. I didn't have my truck, just an old beat up tractor. The blue Ford was gone as fast as it came, and I was left with a cloud of dust to try to follow to try and save this boy's life.
I'm old fashioned, but I do have an old Samsung cell phone that I carry with me for emergencies in case something would go awry in the field. I called 911, and then I called Edie. I flipped the 4-wheeler right-side-up and tried my damnest to keep up with the dust trail, even though it had a flat tire and some bent handle bars. Now this is where things got downright scary.
I lost track of the dust, but could still make out some tire tracks heading into a patch of woods. I followed the tracks for a bit and came across an old run-down clubhouse that has been there as long as I can remember. As a matter of fact, we used to have parties there back in my day. I didn't see the Ford anywhere, but I figured it couldn't hurt to check the place out anyhow.
The steps were all warped and some were even missing. It sure looked different from the last time I had been there. As I made my way inside, something stopped me in my tracks. I heard a young girl crying. It sounded like a toddler, or maybe a little older, crying uncontrollably. She was crying so hard that she was coughing in between sobs and it sounded like she was having trouble catching her breath. I ran around that old shack like a mad man - opening every door, checking every crevice, even looking in the piece of crap refrigerator and stove. I found nothing. By this point I was in tears, I was so frightened. I don't know what made me think of it, but I remembered that when Edie and I were in college we would hide our beer bottles in the attic by lifting up one of the tiles in the ceiling near the entrance of the place. I don't know what it was, but something was telling me that I needed to look there. So I did.
I was on the hunt for a little boy who was abducted right in front of me, and found a two year old girl in the attic of a shack in the woods. I was physically sick when I saw her. I won't go into too much detail about the shape she was in out of respect for her family, but it was bad. Really, really bad. I rushed this little baby out of the woods, and the cops were just pulling up from my previous call about the boy.
She was flown by helicopter to a children's hospital in St. Louis. She's got 3rd degree burns covering 80% of her tiny body, and they had to amputate her foot, but I was told that she's going to make it. The little boy still hasn't been found and I am just worried sick over it. His sweet little face has been on our local news station all day, asking anyone with information to come forward. You don't know how awful it feels to be the last one to see him.
I will be sure to keep you all updated if anything should happen, good or bad. And if you see a little boy with shaggy blonde hair and a broken arm, please save him for me.
Submitted June 09, 2016 at 07:15AM by mst_15 http://ift.tt/25MYm9q nosleep
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