Let me tell you a story, rockabilly riverfish, ‘bout a man named Bon Jon Bovi, who they called the Most Notorious Killer in the East. You ain’t heard o’ him? Can’t say I’m surprised. But back in the ‘80s his name was on all the newspapers at once, seemed like.
That was after they caught him o’course. ‘Fore then, nobody knew what went on in those woods.
It all started when the mining companies moved into the north of Wiltshire and the grain providers moved south into Burrows. Some of the land in the east was turned into grazing land and slaughterhouses, providing employment for the good townsfolk.
These businesses bought most of the land across Twigfield County, y’see, and most of the landowners at that time were only too willin’ to sell, seein’ as there was a great depression coming—and by the time you can see a great depression comin’ you’ve gotta understand that it’s already here and probably has been for a while.
Those poor girls never saw it coming.
Truth is, we still don’t know how many of ‘em are still buried out there in the woods, eaten away to scraps by the worms and the critters who don’t know the difference between human an’ any other sort of meat.
Where was I? That’s right. The companies took over—Meadlow and Transit and one with some damn fool robatic sounding name: Instacron. They bought out the land to the east of Bon Jon’s woods. Another company—Ferrier’s Mill—bought the land to the south.
Whether Bon Jon refused to sell, or if it simply weren’t worth their effort to take him to court, what ended up was a little patch of wood—no more’n five or six acres—became invisible, squashed between four companies and their restricted access roads. And nobody paid any attention to what went on there, although they should have.
Michael Scott Hand 