This is based on a true story. The names and places were changed to protect the innocents.

After Nelson’s Death
Nelson, my best friend, got killed by something unknown to us. As we drove back to our subdivision we were horrified by the headless body that lay on the truck bed right there by our feet. We cried out all the way back home, no of us wanted to look or dared to touch his unanimated corpse. Tilley’s feet were under his legs and she tried her hardest not to feel it. “Please,” cried out. “Let’s dumping it over, I don’t want to touch him.” “NO,” I shouted at her and the others. “Don’t you touch him.” “Why not, you dump-ass . . .” Barry shouted back at me. “Fuckin’ asshole,” I shouted back at the guy. “He is my friend and don’t you there put a finger on him. “Was your friend and my too,” Tito said, “He was, past, Isaac, past, he is not longer there, he is dead.” “Shut up!” My sister and I shouted at the same time. “None of you are going to put a hand on him,” Walt shouted at the people arguing for Nelson’s body. He was the biggest boy in my grade, and when he had something to say everyone listened. Lacombe put us in less than ten minutes in from of her house; she came out of the truck flying and screaming for her dad, telling our story in a one quick sentence. As we dismounted the truck and everyone began to notice that we were all covered in blood, Nelson’s blood. At first we didn’t know it this was real. It was Halloween and we were so deep in the macabre that we couldn’t see the difference. But this time it was not fake Nelson’s blood and brains splattered over all of us. Tito had a big chunk of his brains on his t-shirt that he cut to make a Halloween costume. The whole head was missing, the gargoyle grad Nelson’s head with one hand and ripped it away front the body. Lacombe’s father called the police after he saw the body. He looked at all of us as if he wanted to figure out who the body belongs too. Some of the girls were splattered on the face with the red fluid, there tears washed out their face missing the blood with the Halloween face make-up. And that was the beginning of all our troubles. Nelson’s old man was the first one to question the death of his child; he didn’t believe our story. But who could blame him; our story was so far out there that at times I could not believe it myself. Life got a grid on us from that moment on. Nelson was his only child, and if you could

see the painful face that man mad when he saw his boy’s body lying on the truck bed, you will feel his pain in your own heart . . . Mr. Lacombe was a man of few words he didn’t ask any questions to us or to this daughters and nor he tried to listen to any of our volunteering stories. He called all our parents first. Then the police and he got the job to tell Nelson’s parents what had happened. The man didn’t take his son’s death well; he began to scream and will roll over the paved road. It was a pitiful side to see: this man pain was disheartens, as he screams he looks at us me mere responsible for Nelson’s death. “Whyyyyyyyyy . . . why, why?” Mr. Otis screamed out to his maker. Mr. and Mrs. Lacombe tried to help him to stand up from the paved street but nothing helped to alleviate the man’s pain. The nine of us were taken to the police headquarters, and we were moved to different rooms onside the two story building. At first I guessed that we told our story to everyone that asked us about what happened on the mango trees road. But as we told our story it sounded more and more incredible. Who was going to believe is that a gargoyle attached us and then killed Nelson. We were interview for four hours in a room with mirrors around the small room. But, it got more and more confusing for the investigators and as they interrogated their frustration level rose. The strange case had them struggling with what they assumed and with the fact on the ground. None of us told anything different, our stories were the same and the evidences they found on the crime scene took us out of the equation. After month and month the investigation from the police, nothing happened to us. It was as if we were in the middle of a Circus with the media following us. Someone leaked our story to the newspapers and we were persecuted by the scumbags for months. Tito and his family were the first in leaving town; someone said that he lost his marvels, or that the poor boy had a nervous breakdown. His parents told my mother that Tito couldn’t sleep anymore that he was afraid that the creature will comeback for him. He slept under the bed or inside his closet and at time in his bathroom tub. On the other hand Tilly spent months crying for Nelson, she then stopped coming to school. My sister alleged that she saw her at Church during Sunday mass, that there were band-aids around her wrists. People in town whispered that she tried to kill herself. Lacombe’s father died three months later some people at the funeral told my parents that all the pressure of the investigation put too much stress on the man. The family moved to the Capitol soon after his burial was over. One by one my friends faded away from town, I was the only one that staid.

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