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**In The Middle of Nowhere**
**Chapter 6**
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The murders were relentless, and it was clear that our killer was still active. Two murders in such close succession—it was unsettling. I found myself dreaming about the murders, vivid nightmares where I was present at the scenes. Perhaps it was just my mind working overtime, consumed by thoughts of this elusive murderer. I needed a break, a chance to clear my head. So, I decided to take a drive, leave town for a bit, and hopefully regain some clarity.
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I headed down old Interstate 159, letting the road take me wherever it led. About an hour into my drive, the landscape changed. Dead trees lined the road, their skeletal branches reaching out like twisted fingers. Between the trees, I spotted an old, abandoned farm. Something about it drew me in, so I pulled over to investigate.
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I walked through the dead brush and brittle limbs, feeling a chill in the air despite the season. The remnants of a fence caught my eye, a ghostly outline of what once was. This place had clearly been here since the 1800s. As I explored, I noticed a cat perched on one of the rotten fence posts. As I approached, I realized it was dead, its body preserved by time and the elements. It seemed to be waiting for something—or someone.
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I moved toward the old stone farmhouse, now just a shell of its former self. A pile of dirt and stone lay in the center of the room, the roof long gone but the walls still standing defiantly. The backdoor was blocked by debris, so I retraced my steps outside. As I circled the house, I stumbled upon a small cemetery about a hundred feet away. It must have belonged to the family who once owned the farm.
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I began reading the tombstones. The first one read:
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**Elias Whitmore (1792 - 1847)**
*"The Earth Reclaims Its Own"*
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The second one read:
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**Martha Whitmore (1795 - 1835)**
*"Gone Too Soon, Yet Always Here"*
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The third one was:
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**Thomas Whitmore (1820 - 1840)**
*"Lost to Shadows, Bound by Blood"*
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Toward the back, another stone caught my eye:
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**Abigail Whitmore (1823 - 1850)**
*"Her Voice Echoes in the Silence"*
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A shiver ran down my spine. What had happened to this family? What dark secrets lay buried with them?
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I wandered around a bit more, the eerie silence pressing in on me. Before leaving, I retrieved a small shovel from the trunk of my car. I gently removed the dead cat from the fence and dug a small grave in the cemetery. As I buried the cat alongside the Whitmore family, I whispered a quiet prayer, feeling a strange sense of peace amidst the unsettling atmosphere.
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With one last glance at the forgotten farm, I returned to my car and headed home, the weight of the day lingering in my mind.
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