GARDENER HAUNTED BARN GETS MORE FRIGHTS THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR

On the evening of October 27th, spectators coming from all over to experience the terrifying fun of The Gardener Family Haunted Barn got the terror… but not the fun. The night had started out like any other; screams piercing the air as people over sixteen entered the barn and were scared out of their wits. But one scream stood out more than any other—the scream of seventeen-year-old Joseph Buchini as he was impaled by his own "Freddy Krueger" claws.

"I never suspected [when he took the job] that it would end… that it was end like this!" his mother, Caroline Buchini, managed to tell us before bursting into tears.

But the terrifying events don't end there. As we wandered about the panicked scene, it was whispered that not only was Mr. Buchini dead, but that a girl had gone into the barn and not come out. People frantically wondered if she, a Miss Christine Dae, had been murdered or kidnapped by the same monster who'd killed Buchini.

"We swore she was right behind us when we walked out… but then we looked back and she wasn't there!" her friend Alexandra Lambert told us.

The police arrived at the scene and infiltrated the barn's winding perimeter, and we are told that they found Miss Dae, one of the Barn's ticket vendors, Randall Chadwick, and the offender himself, on the roof after apparently breaking out of the steeple. The man refused to release the captive teenagers and put his hands up, so the squadron was forced to shoot to save their young lives. As soon as he'd toppled over the edge of the roof, the officers rescued Chadwick and the hysterical Dae, rushing them down to the ground level to be checked for injury. But Dae was bewildered and delirious, and ran away from her own mother to rush to the broken side of her kidnapper. There she sang to and kissed the forehead of the mentally deranged man before being dragged away by a paramedic. She was checked into a hospital later that night, and refused to give a comment on what she experienced.

When we went to ask Charlie Gardener how he felt about all of these bizarre events, the story got even stranger. "I'm ashamed to admit that I knew him," Gardener stated, "he wasn't just some random creep who snuck into my barn. He's been a performer ever since this place opened."

"I had no idea he was mentally unstable," he continued when we pressed for more information, "he came to me five years back when I first opened the place and asked to be hired. So I did… and all because of that face."

He then elaborated, telling us that the man, Erik Destler, had been horribly scarred in a fire that had left him homeless and penniless with no relatives to go to.

"He was desperate and he was broke; so I let him stick around under the condition that he preform with that god-awful face of his every year."

When we went to view the corpse ourselves, we decided that it was best not to print pictures; for it was not for the faint-hearted. All we can say is that we'll never forget it, and that we're sure our little town will always remember with a shudder the strange affair that took place on that fatal night.

But we ask that you sleep easily tonight; for this phantom-like psychotic—a man who went by Erik—is dead.

I threw down the article in anger. Damn those awful reporters, making me sound like the sighing victim while Erik was some evil psychopath! That was not how it had happened; Joey's death had not been his fault!

I'd found the article in the trash when my mom asked me to take it out; it was obvious she hadn't wanted to upset me further than I'd already been these past few weeks.

The doctors had been really worried about me, convinced my ramblings about Erik were signs of something called Stockholm Syndrome. Well maybe I did have it; maybe I was crazy for believing he'd been more than that. But even so, I'd simply scream at them that they hadn't been there; they didn't know what he'd been through!

As a result, I'd been in the hospital for about a week and a half.

As soon as I realized why they weren't letting me go, I'd played along and been a good girl… even making up stories about how terrified I'd been and how I'd never forget that fear. I hated myself for it, but as soon as I had I was home free.

Randy was the most concerned of everyone, coming by my house every single day with methods of cheering me up. He's so wonderful; sometimes I think he's the only thing that keeps me sane. And as soon as I was up and about again, he asked me out. I'm lucky to have a boyfriend as amazing as him, but it also breaks my heart to know that he's completely oblivious to the fact that I will never forget the other man who saw me that way.

As if reading my thoughts, Randy walked in at that exact moment. "Chris?" he called with a smile, and I reached out and briskly shoved the article off the table. His eyes fell upon it anyway, then looked back up at me in confusion. "What's that?" he asked. I smiled casually, picking it up and tossing it in the trash. "Nothing. What movie are we seeing, again?"

But it wasn't nothing. It was the death notice of a man who had loved music and just wanted to be loved. The morbid proclamation of Erik Destler's tragic story; the story of a prodigy who might have been revered and adored by the world had he not had the face of a monster.

But Randy didn't seem to notice the way I was silently screaming. Or maybe he just didn't want to. "They're showing a horror movie marathon tonight. The tickets were super hard to get." He chuckled naively.

I walked over and took his hands. "That sounds perfect. You want to get the car warmed up, and I'll be out in a minute?" I requested with a gentle smile. He stared at me uncertainly for a moment, eyes even darting over to rest on the trashcan once, but then he shot a half smile back and disappeared from the room. And with that, I was alone again.

I went and gingerly fished the article out of the trash, eyes falling almost immediately upon that simple sentence: "…a man who went by Erik—is dead."

"…and after tonight I deserve to be dead." I could still hear him whispering faintly in my mind.

"No… you were just confused…" I muttered to no one but myself. I took one last look at the newspaper in my hands, then turned and tossed it into the fireplace; where for a moment I could nearly see his burning, golden eyes dancing among the flames. No… I don't think I'll ever forget the music or the monster or, most importantly, the man.

A/N: And there ya have it. Hope you liked this new chapter, because unless I get bored next Halloween this will be the last one. XD Our poor, unhappy Erik…