The Bogeyman of Lexington

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
An investigative report subpoenaed by a Dr. Willem J. Boothe, a notorious investigative-journalist on matters regarding the occult and esoteric, shares with us the last words exchanged between Private Investigator Elliot Feldsted and Detective Arthur Finley, sought out to investigate the sibylline case of his, Feldsted, family's association with that of a church in the rural outskirts of Lexington, North Carolina and its impact on a nigh-isolated community.

Submitted: June 10, 2019

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Submitted: June 10, 2019



Detective Finley: Is it on?  Good.  Okay, Investigator... Let's get started.  I am Detective Arthur Finely.  I too am here to find out exactly what the Hell you're doing here in Lexington.  You're here under suspicion of murder, multiple call-ins, reports of trespassing, and disturbing the peace.  Now I know you're not from around here, so, I want to know why an outsider is here meddling in the affairs of the locals.  In this, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.

Private Investigator Feldsted: Bah! These charges are misplaced, Detective!  What evidence have you against me for these absurd accusations? 

Detective Finley: Look.  I understand that these are very serious accusations, but I cannot let a potential murderer waltz about freely, of course, I know not if you did indeed commit these crimes, but an overwhelming amount of reports have heavily suggested you and with your recent arrival, am I to conclude that was mere coincidence?  I’d like to think so, but we’ll see.  Now.  Let’s start from the beginning.  What compelled you, some Yankee, to visit our old town of Lexington? 

Private Investigator Feldsted: Reports of a town in the South, rich with working-class history, has often piqued my interest.

Detective Finley: Ah!  A rabble-rouser, have we?

Private Investigator Feldsted: No, no.  Allow me to elaborate.  My interest lies solely not in the interests of rioters and protests but in something a bit more personal.  As a stalwart man of personified rationale, never have I before took action upon the arrival of such unsettling feelings wherein I go investigate to such a degree as I have.  The nature of my actions was enacted upon the ideal to quell my un-comfortabilities.  After all, the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear and what trails closely is the fear of the unknown, detective.  So, you must see the logic in my initial approach to this most queer of cases. Following much deliberation, combating the emotional aspect, to that which warrants legitimacy, I chose to examine the validity of these old adages, rumours, propagated from the nigh-rural South. 

Detective Finley: And what might that be?

Private Investigator Feldsted: A church, Detective.

Detective Finley: A church?  You mean the secluded Old Lexingtonwood church down the dirt road off Myers Street?

Private Investigator Feldsted: Precisely the same church.

Detective Finely: Do elaborate on as to why you think these simple, quiet townsfolk would, or could, engage or even affiliate themselves in these heinous acts you’re alluding to.

Private Investigator Feldsted: What I am alluding to?  Be not so hasty with your accusations, Detective.  I have yet to allude to anything, but I will, provided I am allowed to defend myself in a way most befitting of my case, give you the proof you need that shall express the abstruse nature of this case in which I admittedly boarded myself.

Detective Finley: And I am to just assume your word has weight over the people that I’ve spent decades with, developing friendships and trust?

Private Investigator Feldsted: Detective, please.  Here me out.  As it turns out, I have a cousin, Josiah, a reticent handyman that resides just on the outskirts of Lexington here.  Since the city’s inception, whereby Josiah…

Detective Finley:  Josiah?  Josiah Holt?  His connexion to the church is quite queer, I must admit.  He’s as you stated, a reserved man.  But that is the way of the townsfolk, Investigator.

Private Investigator Feldsted: Josiah, being associated with this church, it’s much more than just a man serving a god.  In the early-19th century, my family moved Northward, exiling itself from the eldritch philosophy of the ecclesiarch of the time.  That is all I know of this… cult.  My lineage is bounded in its inception, hence the peculiar intimacy I have felt toward this case.  I cannot ignore its call.  I must uncover what was hidden and the reason as to why my clan factioned-off.  My grandfather held onto some tattered piece of fabric that bared upon it something other-worldly - it evokes a rather hollow feeling once eyes gaze upon its mark.  It’s certainly a part of something bigger. 

Detective Finley: Have you this mark?  Can you show me?

Private Investigator Feldsted:  Here you are, Detective.

Detective Finley: No… It cannot be.

Private Investigator Feldsted: Detective? What cannot be?  The mark, it’s familiar.

Detective Finley: Yes. I believe you, Investigator.  Let us go.  We must make haste.

© Copyright 2019 Wayne K. Gascoigne. All rights reserved.

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