Taylor Rosenfeld’s death came as a surprise to everyone in the town and out of curiosity over his untimely death everyone in town went to his funeral. Sheriff Rosenfeld’s house was in the middle of town, a rather large house for a single man with no children or much of a family. His house was a grim shade of grey and he hardly ever let any sunlight in. He owned 200 acres of land around the house. He had a barn on his property that had held a horse at one time, before it ran away to go back to the wild where it belonged.

Sheriff Rosenfeld’s father and mother had died in a tragic car accident when he was only thirteen and had lived with his cousins in Wauwatosa until he turned eighteen and moved back to Texarkana to create his own life. Most everyone in Texarkana is related to each other in some way (blood, marriage, etc.), so the people of the town were all very surprised to see him move back knowing that he had no family left in town. Now they were all thankful he had because when he was twenty-seven the sheriff in town moved away to live with his new wife, whom he met while she was in the jail in town, in Minneapolis where her family lived. Taylor was next in line for the position and he was practically over-qualified for the position. They were all excited to see him become the new sheriff in town.


He’d always seemed like a fairly lonely man. He had a few friends down at the station and there once was Mrs. Hatche who he had gone out with for quite a while. They could usually be found at the Red Lobster down the street from her house every Tuesday night. They would go to church together every Sunday and usually go out for lunch after the service with the pastor and his wife. Everyone was saying that they were going to get married, but before he had the chance to propose, she went missing. Ever since then he had basically lived his life by simply going to the station and then going home. He didn’t stay after work and head over to the bar with the others from the station. He stopped going to church and just shut himself up in his house.

As everyone was gathering in the living room waiting for the pastor to arrive to move the body and begin the service, some of the guests went exploring around the house. As they walked closer and closer to what they assumed was Taylor’s bedroom there came a horrible smell. It smelled something like garbage, gym socks and sugar cookies. They knew that Taylor had died in the kitchen on the other side of the house so they were very concerned about the smell. One man slowly opened the creaky door and walked in, a few others followed close behind him. There didn’t seem to be anything obviously wrong in the room, so they began searching around the room to see what could possibly be making such a rancid odor. One lady checked the dresser, another checked his desk and another checked the closet. Then there was the man who looked under his bed. There under the bed staring him dead in the eyes were three dead bodies.