My name is Terry Simpson and this here missive will tell you a part of the story about certain aspects of my bizarre and strange demise. You see, as weird and crazy as this sounds, three years ago today I died a horrible death. I was murdered by brutal strangulation. My killer used barbed wire that ripped into the flesh of my neck, thus causing my blood to flow down my shirt and spray out to splatter all over the walls of the dorm room I died in. After I expired, my murderer dragged my lifeless body away from the campus, drove nearly one hundred miles down into the deep coastal North Carolina forest and burned my body until it transformed into a pile of black and grey ashes. He later spread my ashes over a large patch of corn field to blend into the black soil.
When I awakened from my death eight nights ago, I found myself standing there before the bright light. I was too shocked to move. The bright light, it turned out to be, was the powerful headlights of a huge truck. I should have died another time when the truck plowded right over me as though I wasn't even standing in the road. The driver probably thought I was a stupid deer and left me crushed there as roadkill. Funny thing though, I literally pulled myself together and stood up to face what had just happened to me.
Oh, to be sure, I was left a crushed mess. My left arm is broken in three places. I can still move it because I can't feel any pain. My neck is broken, but I have learned to balance my head on my neck so that I appear kind of normal. The blackened, charred skin on my arms and legs was mostly scraped off and left on the asphalt. Luckly, the bones in my legs did not break giving me the ability to still walk with a slow limp. I don't want to talk too much about what passes as my face. Oh, I'm a goddamn mess right now. I'm not pretty any longer. I am now some kind of unholy monster that was awakened from death to serve a purpose.
I am now moments away from enacting that purpose!
This murderer must have pissed-off the wrong person, and it wasn't me. Someone, or something, brought me back from the dead to enact revenge on my murderer. I keep getting these flashes of memory -- the memories of other people murdered after me, for I was his first victim, you see -- that play out the deaths of other women by the hands of the maniac that killed me. I see these deaths very clearly in my mind, now. I have even witnessed my own brutal murder.
My personal memory fades straight to black when the murderer throws me onto the pile of gasoline soaked branches before setting my lifeless body on fire. I don't think my mind can handle watching it's own death.
Something, some kind of weird drive, has basically forced me to wander the woods along highways and roads. I was directed to move northward starting outside Wilmington. I finally reached my destination last night -- Raleigh! Under the cover of night I walked right up to the roadside motel on the corner of Moxy and Rush. Room 13 is the door I am now standing in front of. I can smell the evil inside!
I found a pencil and a couple of slips of dirty paper along the highway. I have spent the past ten minutes writing these words. I will place this piece of paper in the right hip pocket of these pants I had to steal off a clothsline. I couldn't walk around as a naked freak monster, could I? And for whoever finds this note, realize that the unbelievable is in fact believable -- this dead version of my wrecked body is indeed over three weeks old. That is why I smell so bad.
I, a dead 24 year old woman, the victim of a deranged serial killer, will now break through this flimsy door with the strength that only the undead can possess and confront this personafication of evil. I can sense the reality of what is about to happen. I will kill him in this midnight moment. I will make him die a tortured, extended death forcing him to feel the agony of everyone touched by his evil. And I will enjoy what I am about to do! There is a smile on my face where my lips used to be. Its there underneath the maggots and decay!
I will first crush his larynx so that he cannot scream. Then I will... oh shit! He just turned on the lights to the room. Its time to die again!
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