Over the past few days, things have been relatively quiet. There’s been no more reports of people or dogs being mangled. No one has reported having their limbs and organs taken. Everything is just quiet. It’s a bit unsettling. With a happening like this, you would think they would have the state marshals all over this, but there’s nothing. Sheriff Ivers told me they never discovered who or what did that brutal number on the woman. To be honest, I don’t think Ivers wants to know. A small part of me doesn’t want to know either.

At first, I thought this case was pretty simple. Unfortunately, simple was the one thing I should’ve never assumed about this situation. Late one night around 11 o'clock at night, I was in bed. That’s when I heard the slight sound of a song. It sounded like a small jingle of some sort. It was something you’d hear from a music box or an ice cream truck. When I jump up to look out the window, the sound had completely vanished.

The next day was even quieter than the last. I wasn’t the only one trying to stay low, but it seemed like everyone in town was keeping quiet. The moment that jingle started, everyone was completely silent.

A few days ago, I was sitting at the police department doing some paperwork. It was around evening, and activity in town had slowed down for the day. Ivers and the other deputies were out on patrol. That’s when I heard it. I heard the same jingle I’d heard late the other night. The music was getting louder and closer. I looked out the window to see an ice cream truck.

I considered that to be weird. For the time I’d lived in this town, I’d never seen an ice cream truck. No one had ever mentioned an ice cream truck. This truck didn’t even look up to date. It was old, rusty, and barely in a condition to move. Somehow, it was here and roaming the streets. Up close, the music sounded off sync and unsteady. It sounded like a toy when its batteries are dying.

The truck was white and pink. It had a large ice cream scoop character on top of it. The headlights were shattered. The tires seemed only somewhat deflated. The truck didn’t have a distinguishing brand. That was mostly because the words were covered in rust. The truck slowly roamed down the street. I looked out at neighboring houses to see people quickly turning their lights off.

However, there was a child. There was child in the yard playing a few yards away. I looked to see the mother frantically trying to run towards him, but the father stopped her. It looked like they had a heated argument for a brief second before he pulled her inside the house. The child was left outside. The ice cream truck continued down the street towards the house with the child. The music clearly grabbed the child’s attention because he stopped playing a starting walking towards the truck.

The truck stopped right in front of the house. The child approached the truck. I wasn’t able hear what was being said, but I’m going to go on the assumption that the child asked for an ice cream. Why else would he be there? The inside of the truck was so dark. I couldn’t even see who the boy was talking to. All I could see were to large, beefy arms leaning out of the truck. This is when I knew something was wrong. The arms didn’t look right. It was like all the skin on them was completely gone. I was looking at two big, pink, fleshy arms leaning out of an ice cream truck.

I was about to step outside and investigate, but something stopped me. I completely froze. For some reason, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the uncontrollable sensation of fear. My body was completely paralyzed. I slowly stepped away from the door and proceeded to watch from the window. The boy still stood at the truck. He looked confused. It appeared that the driver had still not given him any ice cream.

Suddenly, the face of the driver leaned out of the truck. I only saw it for a brief second, but that was more than enough to see. I don’t exactly know how to put this. The driver was not human. In that moment, I could see that it didn’t have any eyes, ears, or a nose. It was just a head with this large, gaping mouth that was vertical. The mouth contained a plethora of dirty, sharp teeth. Even though I’d only seen it for a brief second, I knew the boy saw an eyeful. He turned to run, but it was too late. The two arms grabbed the boy, pulled him into the truck, and quickly sped off.

In that moment, I put aside all my fear and ran out the door. I tried chasing the truck down on foot. For an old rusted ice cream truck, it was much too fast. The truck quickly cut a corner and vanished. As the truck got farther away, the music faded away as well. Once the music was no more, people began to turn their lights back on. I ran to the house where the boy had been. The parents didn’t answer the door. All I could hear was the sounds of the woman wailing in sorrow.

I sprinted back to the office and called Ivers. I was so frantic, I don’t think he even understood a word I said. I informed him that there was an ice cream truck that had just taken a child. From hearing that, Ivers seemed to be hesitant to speak. He stayed quiet for a good few minutes.

“We’ll start a search and rescue tomorrow morning. It’s too late in the evening to do anything now.” said Ivers.

As he walked off, I swear I heard him say “Not another one” under his breath. It’s starting to occur to me what goes on with this town. This town has gruesome murders, suicides, and kidnappings. There were honestly so many questions running through my head. What came over me? Why did I freeze? What was that thing in the ice cream truck? Was that the Squealer?

Late that night, I heard a knock at my door. I opened my door to see no one. Taped to my door, was a piece of paper that had my name on it. All the paper said was “Talk to Deacon. He knows.” I intend to talk to the deacon very soon. For now, I need to get some rest before the search tomorrow. I’ve resorted to sleeping pills to help me. It’s hard to sleep willfully when you’ve seen and heard all the things I have. Something is strange though.

Why does it sound like I can hear the jingle out in the woods?