The Monachkosville Mystery

You arrive at a remote, desolate town in the dense forests of the north of the State of Maine. The road that brought you here was ill-maintained, potholes and overgrowth galore. You’re surprised the moist carpet of greenery didn’t cause you to skid down the mountainside during your drive. You’re… surprised you even reached your destination. With the state the road was in, the lack of signage indicating your location and destination, it almost seemed like you were headed to a place that didn’t even exist anymore.
Lo and behold, though, you had found it. Monachkosville. It’s a strange name for an American town, unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. The origins of the word elude you. Perhaps a local can illuminate you. After you get your bearings, of course.

Perhaps you believe yourself to be smarter, more observant, than your peers. Perhaps you feel a sense of accomplishment within your occupation, fancying yourself an empath that strives to improve the quality of the lives around you. Perhaps you are tired of the lies, deceit, and injustice that permeate the world around you, and spend your time squashing crime, adultery, and the many societal evils that plague so many innocent people in this world.

Perhaps you just have a taste for danger. Perhaps, you are, in fact, an idiot with very little sense of self-preservation.

There is no cellphone signal. The streets look empty and derelict. You are alone.

Completely, and utterly alone.

Your death is very likely in a situation like this.


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