Humankind at its Core
What is humankind, when you take away all those elements which we have in common with animals?
I recently watched something happen which should have, long ago, been dead and buried by our entire species. It should have died in Africa in times before Christ. It should have died in Muenster. It should have died in Salem. It is still alive.
I can’t write this article. I can’t write it like a normal article. I would normally write in a linear style, from the beginning to the end, keeping a tongue-in-cheek perspective on the things I would consider ridiculous. I can’t do that this time, because it wouldn’t be ethically proper.
An innocent young man is dead, and his murderers are still at large. An innocent young man is dead at the hands of people who were afraid, and who sought a way to destroy that which they were afraid of. People who ignored that they were human, and so was the thing which they feared.
My regular readers will not be surprised at my saying this, but regular subscribers to Parajournal.net will probably hate hearing: “There is no such thing as the supernatural.” The very word is a contradiction. “Super” means beyond. Nothing is beyond nature. Everything is nature. Nothing is beyond it, and nothing good comes from believing that there is.
The case I was sent to investigate was one of the slaughter of livestock. Six cattle. And the local community believed it was an American Indian boy, no older than sixteen, named One Hawk.
One Hawk’s family, their collective income somewhere around twelve thousand dollars a year, all said he was “possessed of the spirit of the wolf”, able to transform at will. His father demonstrated this ability to me, and I saw a middle aged, fat, naked man barking and howling in the dirt road which led to his trailer before passing out drunk on his porch.
One Hawk knew he couldn’t turn into a wolf. If I had pressed him to admit it… I could have saved his life. I didn’t realize at the time how important that fact might become.
One Hawk’s family wanted to believe he could change. They all wanted to believe they could change.
The community of Great Falls feared One Hawk could change. They beat him to death because they believed he could change.
I sometimes forget fear. I end up getting too close to the explanations I know are close, and I forget about superstitions. I forget about fear.
I instead sought answers. I found tire tracks near the place where cattle mutilations had occurred. I found strips of cloth. I entrusted the information to an insurance investigator.
And he was murdered. Fake Native American symbols at the scene.
The family who called us were also murdered, as were their employees. The real culprits were a white family called Caraway. Lily Caraway, Mary Caraway, and Harold Caraway. They had made wolf fur suits, armored with an unknown substance which absorbed a zero-distance shot from a hunting rifle. They disappeared, still at large. Police evidence techs now conclusively show that they were always the guilty parties.
White people. Church goers, community staples.
The dead innocents: varied in race, varied in income, varied in occupation. Representative of all of us.
I cannot make this story more sensational. It is a true horror. There is nothing I could do to make it more horrific; it is the sum of any rational person’s fears. I can only ask that we seek justice together, in hopes that we may apprehend those responsible parties. See contact information on the main page.