“Mysterious and Violent Letters

Disrupt Small Community”

Anonymous Letters and Unsourced Burglaries Simultaneously Emerge in Northern Illinois

       A series of anonymous and often violent letters have been appearing in the small locale of Boros, Illinois. As a part of the growing trend in “pocket neighborhoods”, the place has enjoyed relatively low crime rates since its founding and exemplifies the close-knit community approach. Thus the emergence of these unsourced letters, directed towards the town’s residents, comes without any sign of a precursor.

       “I don’t know who would send these letters,” said one of the recipients. “I’ve lived here all my life. If someone wanted to contact me, they could just walk a few steps and be at my door.”

       The strangest part of the letters is not the vague, unsettling tone, it is rather the mention of numerous family heirlooms, knowledge of personal affairs, and references to long-time childhood friends.

       The local police on the scene believe the letters are a diversion tactic for widespread burglary. Although no deaths have been reported, some of the victims have notified officials about missing large volumes of personal belongings. The burglaries so far have only occurred in households that have received the cryptic letters.

       I managed to track down someone who had received one of the letters roughly a year ago. Though his story appears to align with everyone else’s, Bill Heron, 28, offers a different account of what has happened since he first started receiving the letters.

       “It started out subtly enough, but I had this feeling from the first letter that I was being targeted,” Heron recalls. “I mean, whoever this malicious person is said I would be forgotten, what kind of burglar says that?”

       “A few keys went missing, my leftovers were gone, then my grandmother’s urn just vanished.” Heron soon noticed that other people were losing things related to him in any fashion. Shortly after the letters, his parents called citing that they couldn’t find any photographs of him. A few weeks later, he stopped getting calls altogether. “People don’t recognize me anymore. I tried to frequent bars and restaurants. I called friends, relatives, and friends to my relatives. Nothing. My parents won’t answer my calls.”

       Wanting to confirm the foreboding messages in the letters, Bill decided to perform a stakeout, gripping tightly onto his most prized possessions. “I remember the letters very clearly. They said that the next thing they would take would be the last. I didn’t know what to expect.”

       “Everything I owned was all piled up into one location with only one entrance. When it was nighttime, I just remembered darting my eyes back and forth between the windows and that doorway. I sat alone for hours. Even when the light went out, I remained. Still, I could hear everything outside. Then, I felt a strong pull coming from all directions. I checked behind me, to the left and right, only to see in my field of vision all of my possessions, then nothing at a blink. In the morning, there appeared to be a large black residue where the items used to reside. I couldn’t clean it out. I just left. I filed the police report, left the neighborhood, and just continued on with the rest of my life.”

       Although Heron and others like him had their own stories, it seems that I’ve lost contact with them, and most of the letters they had left with me have somehow been misplaced. For the other families in Boris, they have recently begun to move out in fear of literally losing everything, dwindling their population ever since.