Ellis Hill's Spooky Story
| Ellis Hill's Spooky Story Worn Unique |
| Ellis Hill's spooky story. |
| Used in "Spooky Stories of Solomon Island" |
Used for the mission Spooky Stories of Solomon Island, but given as a reward from the mission The Confession of Ellis Hill
Transcript
I didn't have to write this. Hell, the sailors would never approve. But where I come from, you put a man in the ground, you owe him an explanation for why. Even if it is just a note written on a piece of paper that you tore from a notebook you found in said dead man's pocket. It's about respect. My mama always taught me how important that was.
Ellis Hill, I didn't know you. Fact is, the only things I knew about you were your job and your address. In a pinch, I could've phoned home and gotten any details I'd wanted - your habits, the names of your pets, your first love...anything. We may not be as connected as our landlocked brethren, but when you make a living selling information - you get really good about harvesting it.
It's funny though, in this day and age, how details can get lost in the noise. Take us. You were the new engineer at the airport and your uniform was the only one I even had the slightest chance of fitting into. The only guy who was within the age bracket I could pull off. I was even ready for the beard - had a story all prepared in my mind about my first shave in years. And in all that preparation, all that time I spent getting ready to take over your identity; nobody ever mentioned you were a white boy.
Ellis, let me tell you how I chuckled the first time I saw you through my binoculars. I didn't know whether to be proud or furious. On the one hand, it says a lot about progress in the world that nobody even thinks that is an important detail. Jesse Jackson would be proud.
On the other hand it made my job a lot harder. A white man turning into a black man? At some point in the process of interviewing for you new job, somebody local must have met you.
I've never been big on worrying though. I figured that would be a river I would cross when I came to it.
What happened next? Well you know. I waited for you on the road to the airport. Waved you down in your rust truck. Asked you for help.
I've always had strong hands but strength has never been the most important thing in a strangling. Endurance counts too. You gotta hold yourself steady and count the beats. You gotta be like a mast in a storm, moving with the struggles - bending but never breaking.
You struggled, I remember. Drumming your heels against the door of the truck, fists and elbows flailing. I could see it on your face, that feeling of helplessness. You knew what was coming, and you knew you didn't have the power to stop it. Your eyes...they wanted to know why. The worst thing about strangling, Ellis, is that it ain't nothing like Hollywood makes it out to be. You see, the first thing people do is pass out. That makes them easier to manage. But if you stop strangling, they start breathing again. The body wants to live. I respect that.
There is this period of silence, when nobody is fighting back and I'm just a man crushing the life out of your body. It takes minutes, but it feels like hours. Gives a man time to think, to reflect. It's not about strength any more, but mental toughness.
You gotta have a powerful belief or a powerful anger to get through that.
I was never angry with you, Ellis. But I am a believer. I believe that you needed to die so that I could get on with my business here.
I nursed you until it was over and then I threw you in the back of the truck and got to burying you. I've seen enough in this dark world to know that you might come back. If you do, I can't say I would want to meet you. But I wrote this so you know how things stand.
There's a fog rolling over Solomon Island. Dark days are coming.
I might have done you a favor.
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