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Yokeman’s Home-Personal Narrative

church, but man oh man can he recite the verses, at least the scary vague Hail Mary ones. Just by the way he talks I could tell he’s seen some shit. At the same time, his eyes have dark rings around it, bloodshot. A chiseled perma-scowl that practically completes his entire face. His head lurched forward from the rest of his body, with a pointy nose covered in acne scars. His hair is reddish and curly, goes down to his shoulders and parts from his forehead. This was the part that scared me, as I’m thinking of the figure that’s been haunting me these few years, and he could be possibly sitting right next to me!

Facial hair struggling to emerge from his face, leaving a faint mustache broken up on places. Breaking the ice was tough, but I wanted answers regarding the notes and the verses. I’m determined to get to the bottom of this mystery and get justice for Becky and the many people that were harmed at the school. We arrive at the diner, a quiet little country place on the corner of the street, straight out of the 60s. Not surprising since Yokeman being an old person town, wouldn’t have it any other way. We get a table over near the back of the diner, Ryan hobbling his way in front of me, still has the same funny walk after all these years.

I try my best not to chuckle, as I can tell his self esteem has been crushed a thousand times over. We take our seats, and order our meals. While we wait for our food, Ryan has a coffee, black. He tries to take a sip, shaking all the while. I ask him if he should be drinking coffee and not get some water. He didn’t seem to interested in water, and took a gulp of his brew. I leaned into my bag and started pulling out the notebook papers, shuffled them out on the table before him, and asked about the verses printed. He took an interest in the verses, but as usual, his definition is as vague, and even misleading as I thought.

I’m trying to keep a straight face, but I’m starting to feel a bit frustrated. He looks up at me and asks: “Someone just left these for you? ” “Yes” I answered “I’m under the impression someone wants me, and the people from the reunion dead, like someone is holding a grudge. ” He put his coffee down, wiping his mouth and chin. This has to be too easy I thought to myself, but I wasn’t done. I pulled out the chunk of notebook paper found there Robin’s body was found and planted them on top of the other notebook papers. I go on about how the author of the notes considers himself very close to God, as his servant of justice.

I should of went to the police, to Carl first, but part of me wanted to see if Ryan has any ties. “There is a killer on the loose, Ryan. He put our friend Becky in the hospital and has been stalking me. ” I added, also asking if he knew why would someone carry out such a vendetta and using the darker verses of the bible to justify his killings. As he was about to usher out an answer, our food came. He ordered a grilled cheese and bacon, no vegetables. I had the chicken salad, but in all honestly I don’t have the appetite for it right now, but I didn’t want to come off as off putting.

Ryan bobs his head, as if he came up with an idea: Do you think you did anything to deserve this? ” Which offended me a bit, and I told him no, unless it was some unrequited love, which I’ve had since High School but I don’t know who it was. Ryan’s face lit up, giving me the blank stare. I continued about my secret admirer who left notes in my locker and suddenly dropped of the face of the earth. Ryan was cracking a crooked smile then, as he gobbled down his grilled cheese. “Oh! ” He exclaims. That seemed to of interested him the most out of this entire conversation, which was starting to get derailed at this point so I need to try to steer him back.

We talked some more about Robins untimely demise, and that the killer had a biblical motive, that he’s carrying out the “Will of God” but there had to be more. Ryan starts going on about the rapture, and that some folks aren’t worthy of forgiveness, that some parts of the Bible, in his words, can outright deny you the grace of his glory if someone takes it upon himself to carry judgment. Now, I’m not religious by any stretch, but even I know that’s bullshit. The next part though, took me for a loop. Ryan confirms that there is indeed a killer, even going so far that he even suspects that the Yokeman reunion fire was done by an arsonist.

He goes into detail about that the explosion wasn’t controlled, but was triggered by faulty maintenance but to make it look like an accident. Not sure if he was admitting to this or just speculating at this point. Apparently it’s part of a small, but growing, conspiracy on a lesser known right wing forum. The same kind of place with 9/11 truthers, Holocaust deniers, and other various sources of crack-pottery. Ryan pulls out his phone, eagerly wanting to show me the posts made in the thread, there were even pictures of the bodies! Was he already going to the school and doing this?

He also says that people were going to the school after the explosion to look around, himself included before the police kicked them all out, save for the squatters and construction crew. Over time the public lost interest, but Ryan took interest in telling me all of this. Perhaps my intuition was misplaced, part of me is relieved. He also implores me to go to the police, with this information. The fact that I came to him about this really raised his spirits up, perhaps a kinship.

He also started to act a bit suspicious, as his lighted expression went dark and he asked: Why were you at the school? How’d you manage to find these? ” Ryan started to become very concerned, too concerned as there was something he wanted to keep a secret. I’m trying my best to eat my meal and come up with an answer. He was staring dead in my eyes, where I wanted to look away. He wasn’t budging on it so I quickly gave in, with a determined look on my face I replied: “Becky is my best friend, and some religious sick fuck went though a lot of trouble to kill her, our classmates, and me and won’t stop stalking me.

I’m going to drag that son of a bitch out into the open and make sure he rots in jail. ” I’m not going to deny that some of our classmates were unruly assholes, but they did not deserve this at all. There’s someone out there with a grudge and will not rest until he get what he wants. Ryan’s eyes widened, his head starts to shake again. It’s almost possible he turned another shade of pale just now. I wanted to remind him that she is his friend, was his friend as they pretty much don’t contact each other anymore and he would agree that justice needed to be served, but he was too distracted with his fear.

He sits up from his seat, from his slouch, head down for a moment. “You, shouldn’t go back. ” he utters, with a slight crack in his voice. He cradles his head and brushing his red hair back, sprinkling flakes in his food. “Why not? ” I responded. “Whoever this person is, he might still be around the school… I wouldn’t go back. You, you could get hurt. ” He explains, which came to a shock to me since a few moments ago we were talking about this incident as a conspiracy, and now he doesn’t want me to continue my investigation.

He goes on… I’m really sorry what happened to Becky, and I don’t know what to say about your stalker, but this isn’t something you can just walk in and play detective. Just… just stop it okay? “Let the theorists figure out the culprit and we can put and end to this, anonymously, if you put your name out there your life could be in danger! ” I’m not entirely sure if he was truly caring for my safety, or he’s hiding something, which seemed all the more obvious, but he does not want me to go back. He hands me back the now crumpled pieces of notebook paper and starts to head out.

He thanked me for the meal, but I can tell what I said startled him to the very core. I placed the money on the table, and followed him out. “What is wrong with you? ” I yelled, trailing behind him as he sped walk away. Ryan snaps back at me “This is serious shit you got yourself into, just drop it! ” the crack in his voice is more noticeable, like as if he wants to cry. He wanted to get as far way from me as possible, he’s obviously spooked. I wanted to follow him home, but my lunch was well past over, and I needed to get back to work. Maybe… another day.

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