The monsters are in the house
Night had fallen. In the vast fields of grain, something began to stir. Wolves could be heard howling in the distance. All of the townsfolk were already tucked away inside their homes. Quiet enveloped the land at long last.
The wolves always howled late into the night, along with the metallic screeching of wayward trains, carrying their cargo out west. The trains always moved a little faster, with a bit more conviction around these parts, for reasons that were entirely known to the locals. The closest railroads were actually quite far, but the trains still whistled as loudly as if they were right next to your ear. There weren't too many outsiders that came to visit the valley, and those who did never took a good word back to their kin. Some of them didn't go back at all. Some settled into the countryside for one reason or another, and sometimes it was not by choice. Regardless, anyone who stepped foot into the town down by the river left knowing all about the plagues of the people who seemingly thrived in the area.
Jay was a normal kid. An absolutely, completely normal kid. I'm not sure why that happened... but I do know, the day we learned that Jay Martin was found strung up in a fucking oak tree in the park, the entire neighborhood wept. Jay made average grades, played trumpet in the band, and had average looks—absolutely nothing about him was special. Nothing really made him a target. He was just a genuinely nice kid.