Chapter 1 - Davis

It was a long, long time ago in Brazil, that I used to solve violent doings and determine what the killer was. Notice that I said ‘what’ not ‘who’. It is usually something that the world doesn’t know of. Villages in the Amazon have built wooden corridors from their door to the others so that the “Prisao de Almas” doesn’t mistake them for a meal. That is ‘Prison of souls’ in Portuguese.

They had nothing but sticks and stones to work with. At daytime, they’d be at a high alert. At night time, they scramble back into their corridors, letting sticks decide their fate.

Now, I work as a P.I, through the imperfect loops of the law. I may sound mad, but I solve the ‘activities of savagery’ that no human being is capable of doing. For example, my first case was with a kid who was around seven years old. He said that something big dragged his friends into the water, and predictable I didn’t believe him. He took my hand and ended up forcing me to go to the lake that they supposedly ‘were’ at.

So again, I didn’t believe him… at least until now. I’ve found a bunch of footsteps going into the water like people were here from last night… but the footsteps didn't return. And besides that, the soggy, slippery, and sticky mud had long finger grip-marks grooved into the soil, leading into the woods. Almost as if they were dragged. But they had jagged edges and went on for a long way in a straight line… almost as if they were made at a high speed.

Locals say that that is a kid’s finger-tracks. They believe that he came back once and haunted them in their slumber. He whispered ‘me ajuda.’ In their ears. Which is Portuguese for ‘help me’.

So, now, here I am. I have taken up the case. Let me remind you, I don’t work for or with the law. I work through it. I torture where I need to and I defend when I need to. So, I get to work and begin asking questions to the locals.

This case hits home to me as I have a young son who went missing in the same way. I can't believe that I am thinking this, but he's gone. No one survives for a month while kidnapped and without food. All hope has been scraped away by me expecting him to walk through the wooden front door.

I put my head back into my mind, flick dust off my raincoat, and tighten my fedora against my forehead. I begin examining the scene. The lengths between the finger-tracks are approximately the length between the spread fingers of a child’s hand. I only found one track though. So, maybe he used the other hand to try and shake loose.

This could be a human’s doing. This case needs to be looked into. I have a partner who’s been working in Brazil as a P.I too. I call him over.

But there was something I did not cover. And he asks me just that. “Were there footprints at the scene?” He asked.

Oh god. A missing kid, and absolutely 0 pairs of footprints. He can’t know about this case. The further he is from this, that much safer for him. So, I lie, “Actually don’t come over. I think I found the answer.”

No footprints, but scratch marks on the mud. This is definitely not a human being. And then, the wind rushes towards me. It carries a crumpled piece of paper. I open it up and read through it. It reads, “If you’re reading this, I have been tied from the neck using some sort of a rope…”