My travels have taken me all over this town, I’ve met with strange yet friendly people. I’ve dived into spirits, an unknown creature sighting that may have been bigfoot, and to a Satanic Cult. But nothing has prepared me for this. The very thought of missing children being used for whatever sick reason. Now, as I write this in the hopes of bringing a shed of light to what happens that we like to ignore. I’m getting the chills.

I received an email from an obvious fake address. The kind that’s made up on the fly. So that they couldn’t be tracked down. Now, something like this would be a massive network. Something, that would span several countries or even the world.

This is becoming something more than what I could ever imagined. Upon Highway 16 in the period of midnight. The time between night and day, when most are sleeping, and those who aren’t don’t venture far from home. It’s a time when the unusual happens, that moment where you have to put aside one’s normal train of thought. Off Highway 16, you’ll find the odd range road, or dirt road depending on where you grew up. Old farm homes that resemble pox marks across the terrain. Reports of missing people are plastered about, children from broken homes or single parents, of where their grandparents raise them. The women who have a history of drug addiction who vanish for days on end. These are the people no one misses. The lost who will never be found.

Old pickup trucks pulling new livestock trailers, they blend in, and move across the country. These are the vessels they use to transport a sickening secret. A secret that will sicken the masses but won’t shock some. The act is cannibalism.

Now, before you say a word, I want to say that i was once a nonbeliever. I instantly turned to a sex ring in the country. Honestly! I never thought for a moment that this was going on. The pink slime controversy, the fillers in food, the vast spread of sick animals living in cramped quarters. We’ve done this to ourselves and if I may be frank. Will no longer eat a certain brand of beef. I can’t give names due to legal reasons. But what I about to tell you is something that will put me in the ground.

I was told that there was the odd pickup truck pulling a trailer. The report went as follows that what was being pulled were the remains of three dead aboriginal women. All ranging in their late teens. The feds of course silence all media being released that deals with missing people. Everyday, people go missing and only a small percent are recovered with even fewer returning home alive.

But this deals with experimentations and the practice of human scarifies. The acts of worshipping once since dead beliefs. These people in small farming communities give offerings for better and greater crops. Than at the end, those they decide are worthy are either ground up and spread across their fields, fed to the livestock depending on their value to those performing the rituals, or feasts upon by means of a BBQ.

Each person who’s rounded up is giving a rating. Just like the ratings animals get at the 4H-Club pageants. This practice has gone on since the first settlers landed off the coast and heading into the unknown areas which became the backbone of the agricultural sect.

But for myself, I’m more careful of what brands I buy, though the thought of vegetarian has crossed my mind.