1899

"The year is eighteen-ninety-nine."
That sentence brings me back to my senior wood-chopping class when I was 14 and a half years old, where we would do nothing to chop wood all day to build summer homes for people. The year 1899 exists as a mustard stain on my shirt, as something I can try to wipe all day but It would never go away. 1899 was when I built my 100th house, my first time on a rowboat, and, unfortunately, the loss of my sanity completely.
That one memory that refuses to be wiped.
And it all started with a section in a library.
At the time, books were the latest fad to hit my class. In their spare time, whenever my classmates weren't chopping wood, they would take out their books and read until they had work to do again. encyclopaedias, biographies fiction books and historical fiction books, and, the most popular, books starring the famous explorer Utah McLaren. So of course, when I came home from school, I would go to my room and stay glued to books about him for about an hour, which was when supper (mainly consisting of deer and bread), was ready. The only problem was that you couldn't read that many Utah McLaren books in an hour, something I whined on and on about. My parents, and probably, the whole town, got tired of hearing me complain every day, which is probably why they built a library downtown.
The library was right in the middle of town, where the old general store used to be. Unfortunately, It was just a real small one and only had a couple sections of books, with none starring Utah McLaren. I didn't care, though, I was just thrilled that my town got its own library. After looking at the sections several times, I came to the conclusion that the library only has 5,000 books, about half the size of an average library, and had only a couple hundred that were worth reading, so I checked out about twenty of those and read those for a while. It wasn't for a few months before I discovered a new section in the library.
May 1899
One day in May, I was roaming through the library, trying to see if there were any Utah McLaren books. I decided to ask a librarian if there were any Utah McLaren books in the library. "McLaren?" the librarian said. "We have some books on that. Follow me."
I couldn't believe my luck! Utah McLaren books in the library I didn't think had any books worth reading! Excitedly, I followed the librarian to a cellar just where the very small "J" section is and went down the steps. At the bottom of the steps, there was a poorly-lit room with about 50 books. I went over to the bookcase, and sure enough, the librarian was right. There were Utah McLaren books. I grabbed all the ones I hadn't read yet. I was just about to leave when something else caught my eye. It was a book with a fox on it. It had no words, no colour, no nothing. But I decided to take it anyway.
I should have left that book on the bookcase.
When I got home, I plopped all the Utah McLaren books on my bed and started to read the fox book. I opened up to the first page. Blank. I flipped to the next. Blank. I flipped all the way to page number five. There was a small, folded piece of paper there. I grabbed the piece of paper and opened it. It had something scribbled on it in pen. The handwriting was extremely poor and lacked proper grammar. I thought it was just a bookmark or something a kid had left in the book by mistake. I threw it away. 
I shouldn't had done that.
I flipped to the next page. I saw some handwriting there. It said in big bold letters in the centre of the page, "A COLLECTION OF STORIES WRITTEN BY MARCÜS SCHEVÍNG." I flipped to the next page. I saw some more handwriting there. It said, again in big bold letters in the centre of the page, "MISTER FOX'S SHED: #1." I turned the page. This time, I saw a page to Mister Fox's Shed. I decided to read it.
Reading it was a big mistake.
The story was about a fox that lived in a tool shed in the countryside who often had visits from kids. Usually, during the visit, they would either play tag, read books, or sometimes do acts that are illegal now. The whole story seemed nice, even though it had horrible spelling and grammar. There was just one thing, though. At the end of the story and all the other stories that were in the book, they all ended the same way: Mister Fox and the kid digging a hole in the field that surrounded the shed.
There also was another thing. The stories started to get more and more gory as they went along. I had to ask myself, "What in the world was I reading?"
The following is a list of stories I remember in the book:
"Window Washer", a story about a man who washes windows with people's blood
"Bell", a story about Alexander Graham Bell and how his inventions can be used for murder
"The Joy of Cooking", a cookbook
"Goulash and Fork", a story about a fork who chases a bowl of goulash around
July 1899
It's been a while since I went to the library, mainly because of that book I checked out. Anyway, I went to the library and saw they had built a new section in the library full of the fox book I checked out. The fox book was now part of a series of fox books. Reluctantly, I checked out another one of the fox books. I wanted to see if the stories had gotten tamer.
I was wrong.
Oh so wrong.
Mister Fox's Shed #15 was a story I regret reading. If I had something that could erase one of my memories from my lifetime, that would be the one. It gave me nightmares and unpleasant memories that'll last me my entire lifetime.
The story goes that Mister Fox is sipping tea in his shed when suddenly, a loud knocking comes at the shed door. Mister Fox gets up from his seat and opens the door. Standing in the doorway is an adult. "What the hell did you do with my daughter?" he said to Mister Fox angrily. Mister Fox thought a minute and said, "She's in a better place, sir." "A better place?!" the adult exclaimed, angrier than ever. "What do you mean, 'A better place'?" "The one you're about to go to right NOW!" Mister Fox said, angrily, while jabbing a knife into the adult's back and letting it slice all the way up his back. This was all very disturbing, but the part that disturbed me the most was when Mister Fox, without warning, farted up into the sky.
I stopped reading the fox books then.
November 1899
I hadn't been to the library after that episode. Even though my books were way overdue and I would have to pay about $5.00 for it, I still wouldn't go to the library. One day, I got up my courage and decided to go to the library. When I got there, though, I saw that the section with the fox books had expanded. I couldn't believe it. How could a book series that gory be that popular? I was just about to leave until one of my friends from my wood-chopping class came up to me. "Hey there, Norman." he said. "Hi, Eli," I responded. "So," Eli started, "Did you read the latest Fox Book?" I almost had a heart attack when he said it. He liked them too? "No," I said, my voice cracking a bit, "Did you?" "I sure did!" Eli said, "I even wrote a letter to Mister Fox requesting that I be in his next book!" I couldn't believe it. Eli was going to be in a Mister Fox story. Then Eli said something that made me even more scared. He said, "Want to come with me?"
The next thing I said might have put me in an asylum.
"OK."
NOVEMBER 23, 1899
162 Pine Street, Irish Springs, MO, 63959.
The address of Marcüs Schevíng.
Also the home of the Big Mac.
Eli, my dad, and I all rode our carriage to this place. At first, we thought we got the address wrong, but after a few minutes, we decided, reluctantly, that this was the house the author lived in. Eli ran up to the shed and knocked lightly. Reluctantly, I followed him to the shed and also knocked lightly. The door slowly opened.
And then a skeleton popped out.
Category:Trollpasta
Category:Blatant Ripoffs
Category:And then a skeleton popped out
Category:TOTALLY NOT UNFINISHED U GUIZE
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck