PART 1: THE NOTEBOOKS INSIDE THE RV

On a cold December night in 2009, the wind howled across the open Texas plains, rattling loose metal and whispering through dry grass. A lone RV sat parked on a patch of dirt just outside a quiet town, its paint faded, its windows dim with dust.

Inside, a man sorted through what remained of someone else’s life.

He had recently purchased the vehicle after its previous owner had died. Everything inside had come with it—boxes, papers, photographs, and whatever else had been left behind and forgotten. It was the kind of mess most people would throw away without a second thought.

But he decided to go through it first.

 

 

 

He sifted through stacks of documents, old bills, faded family photos. The air smelled like paper and time. Then, buried beneath a pile of loose pages, he found a stack of notebooks.

Thin. Worn. Yellowed at the edges.

He picked one up and opened it.

At first, the writing seemed chaotic—uneven lines, rushed handwriting. But as he read further, something changed. His breathing slowed. Then quickened.

These weren’t just notes.

They were diaries.

And what they contained was deeply unsettling.

 

 

Page after page described demons. Creatures lurking in the dark. Rituals. And something about a deal with the devil.

But none of that was what truly frightened him.

What made his hands tremble…

Was a confession.

A horrifying confession.

PART 2: THE FAIRGROUND NIGHT

On the evening of July 24th, 1987, the Texas heat still clung to the air long after sunset. Neon lights from a traveling fair lit up the small town of Hico, casting colorful reflections across parked pickup trucks and dusty pavement.

Country music drifted through the night, mixing with laughter, the metallic clatter of rides, and the distant screams of thrill-seekers.

Susan Woods, 30 years old, stood at the entrance.

 

 

 

Beside her was her best friend, Cindy Hallmark, and Cindy’s boyfriend, Roy Hayes.

The three of them hesitated.

This was supposed to be a fun Friday night. That had been the plan.

But something felt… off.

Cindy crossed her arms, staring past the lights and crowds.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.

Susan glanced at her.

“What do you mean?”

Cindy shook her head slowly.

 

 

 

“It’s just… I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

Roy let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We came out here to have a good time,” he said. “But if it’s not working…”

Silence settled between them.

Then Roy spoke again.

 

 

 

“Why don’t we head back to Stephenville? Drive around a bit… maybe grab some ice cream at Dairy Queen?”

Susan looked at Cindy. Cindy gave a small shrug.

“Sounds better than this.”

Susan nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

PART 3: THE LAST MOMENTS OF PEACE

About an hour and a half later, they stepped into the Dairy Queen in Stephenville.

The glass door swung open with a soft chime. Inside, cool air wrapped around them, carrying the sweet scent of ice cream and sugar. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

They ordered sundaes and slid into a booth.

By then, Cindy’s unease had mostly faded.

The tension was gone.

 

 

 

And for the first time in months… Susan felt okay.

Her life lately had been falling apart.

Her marriage to Michael Woods—a relationship that had defined nearly a decade of her life—had ended in bitterness. He had left suddenly, taking her car and some of her most valuable belongings.

But worse than that…

He had left behind cruelty.

A cassette tape.

 

 

 

On it, he listed everything he hated about her.

Every flaw. Every insult. Every word sharp enough to cut.

And scattered throughout the house, he had hidden notes.

Small pieces of paper filled with hateful messages.

She kept finding them.

In drawers. Behind furniture. Under cushions.

It felt like he was still there.

Watching.

Judging.

 

 

 

After that came another relationship.

Brief. Uncomfortable.

The man had been pushy. Too fast. Too demanding.

She ended it.

And sank even deeper.

It was Cindy and Roy who pulled her out.

 

 

 

They brought her into their circle—a group of friends who gathered regularly around Cindy’s round kitchen table. They talked for hours, drank, laughed.

They called themselves “the round table.”

At first, Susan felt like an outsider.

But slowly, that changed.

She started to belong.

And tonight… she felt it.

She watched Cindy laugh as she tried to force a spoonful of ice cream into Roy’s mouth.

Roy resisted, but not very well.

Chocolate smeared across his chin.

Susan laughed.

A simple, genuine laugh.

A thought crossed her mind.

Maybe things are finally getting better.

She stood up and walked to the counter.

“I’ll have another hot fudge sundae,” she said.

 

 

 

When she returned, holding the extra dessert, Cindy raised an eyebrow.

“Since when do you get two?”

Susan smiled, a little playful, a little free.

“Tonight doesn’t count.”

It was a small moment.

But it would be the last peaceful one she had.

(To be continued…)