October 13, 1927
The police have returned to the Greybriar house. Torrio, a Cuban mob boss, moved in around five years ago. Now and then, I hear screams near the edge of the property by the ancient well. I assume that is where Torrio takes those he deems “enemies” or those threatening his business. However, tonight, the screams came out of the mouths of a few young men from the local college around the corner.
Noises of shuffling and scattered shouts outside of the Greybrair house woke me at around 2:30 am. I pulled back my curtains to see the group of young men stationed just outside the property. They whispered of secret liquor supplies inside a beat-down shed nearing the edge of the lot. Presumably, their friends filled their heads with such attractive rumors and stories. I watched them sneak through the maze of trees, rocks, and other foliage, guarding the shed and well from public view, although visible from my neighborly window. The boys reached the structure, broke the lock, and disappeared into the blackness occupying it.
In the meantime, while awaiting the boys’ return, the world became eerily silent. Minutes later, the group emerged from the darkness, breathless and running. They confusedly stumbled towards the aging well, shifting their complete attention to it. The boys linger as their focus on some strange noise within the well loudens, then, as if a switch flipped inside, they take off towards the street, no liquor in hand.
According to police records, they claimed that they were attacked by a type of monstrous beast. Rumors of Joseph Greybriar, the eldest child of Hiram Greybriar, roaming the grounds have circulated since his cryptic vanishing. It is said that Hiram supplied him with women, which spawned more, assumably defective, Greybriar children. Perhaps that’s what they witnessed in the darkness of the shed.
The police, however, dared to venture onto the property to investigate the source of the strange noises, the aged well. They shone their flashlights down the shaft and carefully inspected it, masks of grief plastered across their faces. As the well’s shaft rose, rotting ivory skeletons protruded into the light. The carcasses, relics of the distant past, were identified after tracing the bloody articles in their pockets. Their murders were attributed to Torrio, and as he was detained, he cursed his enemies and those who dared to contest him. Even from jail, I predict the wicked Torrio will be kept busy.
Unit next time.