Her name was Ann McPherson from Pawcatuck, Connecticut. She was a sophomore at NYU with blonde hair and beautiful eyes, who'd decided to vacation in India during her summer break. She found friendship among strangers in India just as she found her death.

Nobody knew the stranger who introduced himself to Ann at the bar. The regulars had never seen him before. He struck up a conversation with Ann over drinks. Half an hour later, Ann left the bar with her newfound friend. He picked up her tab, paying in crisp Rs. 500 bills. The bartender remembered him because of the man's courage in picking up a foreigner, the gloves he wore and because he asked the barkeep to keep the change.

A villager going on his early morning walk to the woods found the corpse two days later hidden behind bushes at the base of a hill called Alagar Kovil Malai in south Tamil Nadu. He had to be admitted to psychiatric care soon thereafter suffering from a breakdown.

Ann was tortured in the most gruesome manner possible before her death. Her last few hours must have been spent in excruciating agony because her killer kept her awake throughout the ordeal. The manner of her killing stands out for a number of reasons. Her body was pierced with metal and thorns, her torso carved with a knife, and her hands and legs chopped into little pieces. The revelation of the nature of her death sent shockwaves through her hometown and shot the hunt for her killer to the media spotlight.

The murder investigation of Ann McPherson isn't famous in the west and contrary to what the claims of media pundits at that time, Ann was neither the first nor the last. There were four other girls before her and many after. Young women who were connected only by the age group they fell in and the weird patterns sketched on their bodies.

My name is James Derrick and I worked on the Ann McPherson murder. I know the truth about what really happened to Ann and the other victims during those three months. Two years have passed since the murders begun and my life is in tatters. I've lost my job, my life and my wife. Most important of all, I've lost hope for humanity. I'm afflicted by terrible, insane visions of impossible things that lurk at the edges, and I'm consumed with madness and the deepest, darkest despair of the heart. They tell me I'll get better, but they are fools. I feel the touch of the Others upon me and I'm lost.

God have mercy on my soul!

Author's notes:

Can I write a horror story? The answer is yes, hopefully. LOL

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