FSE

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Edited and corrected by Ben243

Austria, 1953. It was years after the Second World War had ended, but it was still seen as inappropriate to have an intimate relationship with a foreigner, let alone a member of the still occupying US Army. Although they had freed the people from the Nazi regime and brought lots of chocolate, bubblegum and Jazz music, they were still keeping things from changing back to the way they were. Not the Fuhrer's way obviously, but how it was before all that, before the war, the suffering, and despair.

My grandmother was too young then to remember those days, so her look went confidently to the future. And there she found love, in form of my grandfather who was indeed one of those ominous American soldiers. According to her he hadn't been like the others, hadn't joined the Army to kill Nazis and return home as a hero, but to avoid having to follow in his fathers footsteps, for reasons even he couldn't fully comprehend. He never told her what exactly he meant; it was of no concern to her anyway. All that was important to her was, that they could be together and be happy.

Until the day his brother arrived, out of the blue. He came too tell him their father had died, that certain things had turned out to be true, and to bring him back home. His superiors were informed and they allowed him to head back to the states. Unfortunately my grandmother had to remain behind. He left not realizing this would be the last time he would ever see her.

She never spoke of him, and she never told her family about who he was and where he'd come from. Not until she was about to die, 65 years later. But on her deathbed she told us the whole story, including his name: John Lee Burton. Then she passed away. It was a very sad moment. A while after her funeral I began to do some research, although the rest of my family thought it would be better to leave things alone. Today I wish I'd listened! With the help of the Internet I found out that I had some cousins in the US. They lived in a small town called Huxley. I spent all my savings to buy a ticket, and acquire the necessary papers. I hoped I would have enough left to get along for the next two months. I did not contact my relatives, though. First I wanted to see if they were douchebags or actually nice people.

It took me two weeks, but I arrived safe and sound. Huxley was hidden between two mountains, with trees and rocks scattered everywhere. It looked very much like some of the villages in Austria, except for the obvious American architecture and the fortunate lack of Volksmusik and Lederhosen.

I found a cheap comfortable hotel where I could rent a room. The owner, a nice little lady named Mabel asked me about what had brought me to Huxley and where I'd come from, as she couldn't identify my accent. I told her I was from Austria - and no, that's not the same as Germany - and that I was just touring around the United States. As I said, I wasn't fond of telling anyone what I was really doing here, until I was convinced, it was safe. For some reason she looked at me suspiciously, as if she knew I was hiding something from her. "You know" she said. "You remind me of someone, but I can' put..."

Cautiously I replied: "I have one of those faces!" and left for my room. It was nice and cozy, the first real comfort I'd had after my long journey. I lay on my bed and starred at the ceiling, thinking about the old lady. Was it a good idea to hide my true intentions from her? Maybe she could have pointed me to the right direction. On the other hand, the town wasn't that large, I was sure to find my cousins eventually!

Later, I took a walk and discovered some kind of museum. I say "some kind" because it was actually just some pictures and boards hung up around the private mansion of an old bow tied geek named Henry, who was keen to teach me the whole history of this town. He talked so fast, I can't even remember half of it, aside from some incidents with some Confederates and the horrific forest fires of 18somethingsomething.

I grew a little impatient and asked Henry straight away what he could tell me about the Burton family. He looked at me, like I'd asked him if he had some skeletons in the closet. Why I'd asked him specifically about them, I couldn't tell him. I lied, and told him I'd heard the name somewhere. He hesitated, then he led me to a room at the rear end of the impressive building. There he showed me a very old portrait of the first settlers of Huxley and pointed at a man with a big gut, over all strong physique, short white hair and a darker Horseshoe mustache.

That was Martin Burton Senior, he told me. One of the founding fathers of Huxley town and it's first ever Sheriff. Beside him stood a younger, thinner man who looked like him, but also resembled my own father in many ways. "That's his son, I guess!" Henry hesitated again. He asked if I was a journalist or something, but in a tone that suggests he wasn't very fond of them. I looked at him. He seemed a little paranoid, but over all harmless and trustworthy. So I made a leap of faith and told him my little secret: "I'm the lost grandson of John Lee Burton!"

I'd hoped this would lighten up his mood, but instead he grabbed me by the shoulders and asked me, if I was the first-born son. A little startled by his reaction I nodded. He released me and his eyes wandered left and right, thinking about what to do next. His behavior made me worry. Maybe it would be better if I left. I turned around and made my attempt to reach for the exit, but the next thing I noticed was a hit on the head.

As I woke up I found myself looking into the face of the local Sheriff. He was definitely an authority figure, but also a sympathetic guy. The kind you most likely would want to grab a beer, and spend the evening with. He apologized for Henry's strange behavior and asked how I felt. Still lying on the wooden floor, I quickly checked for injuries, but despite a monstrous headache I seemed to be alright. There were two other men, a paramedic who'd just arrived and started checking me over, and a young slim Deputy who, I realized, was most likely one of my cousins. He was about to arrest Henry, who for some reason kept his mouth shut and turned a sorrowful eye towards me.

I had to follow them to the Sheriff's Department. I'd never been in the backseat of a Police car before. The grid between front and backseat made me feel like a criminal. And it smelled different than the usual cars, more like leather, hard plastic and the textile of their uniforms. While we're driving I told them about Austria and used my chance to clean up with some clichés.

Suddenly I was asked if Henry was telling the truth. Was I indeed a cousin of the Deputy, who was with us the whole time, saying not a word? Just glaring at me via the rearview window, which made me a little uncomfortable. I had a bad feeling about this sudden topic change, but it had no sense to deny it - so I told them what I knew and why I'd come.

As we're arrived at the station, our mood was much lightening up. We talked about the family, made jokes and laughed. This was much better! And yet, it felt forced somehow. As if they actually didn't feel like laughter and did this just to comfort me. Once inside the office, the mood suddenly changed again. Deputies and helpers were running around, organizing, calling people, making preparations and shouting. I quickly realized this wasn't daily routine. Not in a small town like this. Something was really up here, and to make things even stranger, as we entered the room everyone shut up immediately and started starring in our direction. Or to be precise: At me!

I turned to the Sheriff and asked what the hell was going on! He nodded and led me to his office, where he offered me a coffee. I replied I was more the Tea type and demanded answers. Clearly I wasn't just here to tell on old Henry, there was something diff... I got stuck. Through the Sheriff's office window I saw a couple, talking to a Deputy with a sad face. Whatever he told them, the Woman had a breakdown and her husband just stood there in shock.

The Sheriff told me what had happened: Their daughter was kidnapped a few days ago and they'd just found her body in the woods. Oh Gott, I replied in German. That was horrible! But sadly, that wasn't the only case. For weeks there had been cases of missing children around the area. They searched the forests over and over again, but were helpless. I asked him who would do something like that, but he only corrected me: Not who! What!!!

Was he implying there was a wild animal out there? A wolf or bear? The Sheriff asked me if Henry had told me the legend of the Huxley Demon. He wasn't serious! Or was he? According to legend there had been something like this before, since the beginning of Huxley Town. A bloodthirsty demon was hunting little children, dragging them deep into the woods and eating their flesh. Lots of brave men had tried to fight back, but only few came back, barely alive. Except for one: Sheriff Martin Burton.

It's said he knew how to handle beasts like these. And indeed he managed to defeat the Demon and banish him back to the depths of hell. The Demon swore to return one day. In order to keep him contained, Burton passed a spell down through his bloodline: As long there's a Burton's son elected as Sheriff, the citizens of Huxley town are safe!

I asked him why he was telling me this ridiculous story, while there were still people outside, fearing for their children. Because, he said calmly, the last Burton who was supposed to take the place as Sheriff, my Grandfather's other son Tom wasn't the chosen one. The spell could only be passed on to the first born, my Dad. And further on to me! And because they had no idea how to find us after all this time, John Lee Burton had to stay Sheriff, at least on paper, until his death a few weeks ago, when this whole mess started. Now that I was here, I could fulfill my destiny and banish that Demon again.

To sum this up: He was seriously suggesting to make me the new Sheriff, just because of an urban legend, a superstition from this town's founding days, about a Demon kidnapping and eating children? This was utterly bonkers! Even if I agreed to this, I wasn't fit for stuff like this! I was just a thin, introverted guy. I wasn't able to lift heavy weights and I didn't possess enough authority to lead a bunch of children! I wasn't even an American for God's sake!

I stood up and was about to leave, when he surprisingly offered to give me proof! I stopped, inches from the doorknob. He did it! He finally woke my interest! HOW would he prove to me this all wasn't just some figment of his sick imagination? He asked if I'd seen the portrait in Henry's museum. I nodded. He then pulled out an old family album from under his desk. It was a little dusty and even had some pieces of cobweb on it.

He searched a while through some of the pages, until he'd found the right one. And it gave me the shock of my life! On the left side, there was a picture of my grandfather, John Lee Burton, exactly how my grandmother had described him. But on the right side, he wore the Sheriff's uniform... and barely looked the same. I recognized him by his eyes, but despite that it seemed as if he was a completely different person. Wait a minute... not any person... the gut... the grey hair... the horseshoe mustache... that was Martin Burton Senior!

I checked the other pages: Lots of different Burtons on the left and always, always Sheriff Martin Burton on the right, wearing the current Uniform of the respective time. No, this was obviously faked. Something photoshopped! Never could this... but wait a second! Why would they do this? They just knew of my existence because I'd told them about it barely an hour ago! There was nobody else to convince with this, so why would they do this? Could it really be true? That meant, I really had to become the new Sheriff Burton. To be overtaken by Martin Burton Senior, in order to defeat that Demon out there! But what would become of me?

I looked outside at the couple. They were still mourning for their lost child. And others were about to share the same fate if I hesitated to do something against this creature! I looked at them, then the book and finally at the Sheriff, to tell him I would do it.

The whole staff came to witness the ceremony. I felt stupid wearing this uniform that, of course, was several sizes too large for me. I felt the weight of the belt, with all of the stuff connected to it, the jingling sound of the keys and the cracking sound of the black leather. It made me nervous to have a deadly weapon at my side, to be surrounded by so many cops who were all strangers to me. Maybe this was all still just a big prank! They would laugh at me, I would feel a bit humiliated, but that's it. I could leave and never return. But for the moment I had no choice than to play along!

The Mayor had come to join the show. I was supposed to stand there, while he was making his speech. The whole time I thought: Come on, come to an end! Then he finally turned to me. I had to lay my right hand on the bible, raise my left and repeat his words. I swore my oath! My heart was beating like crazy, I was still unsure how I got myself into this mess. After that he attached the Sheriff's star and all of a sudden I felt rather strange.

My belly was growing, so were my arms and legs, they became stronger, more muscular. The leather belt made expanding noises as if it was about to burst. My head was widening, it seemed as if my neck would shorten, merge with my back. A certain itchy sensation was covering my whole face, as my mustache was growing. I smelt the salty, masculine scent of a mature man. My mind was changing too, I began to know things I couldn't possibly know, remember people I'd never met in my entire life, think like I'd never thought: Straight, confident, dutiful thoughts! At the end the uniform fitted perfectly. And all of a sudden, I was Sheriff Martin Burton... again?

The other me... well, I was still there. But it was as if I were just dreaming, seeing things from another perspective. In a few minutes the Sheriff had mobilized his men to search the forest one more time. He himself walked in another direction, drawing strange symbols with an Edding on the palms of his hands while speaking a strange spell. Nearly an hour later he reached a clearing, where the creature stood, feeding on the body of another poor child. If I would still have been my old self, I'd have thrown up. But the Sheriff's stomach kept calm!

The demon looked like the shadow of a giant spider. It had glowing red eyes and hissed with a scary, whispering voice: "YOU!!!" But before it could attack me... him... us?... the Sheriff raised his hands, yelled another spell and forced the beast with a bright shining light back to the fires of hell where it had come from. The demon let out an agonizing scream, and then it was over! The demon was once again banished.

We soon found the rest of the missing children. Some of them were still alive, held in cocoons! Others weren't that lucky and I... we... had to inform their parents. It took me a while to get used to it and back to my daily routine! This time I had to be sure this boy... I... he... had no children left back in Austria. It's still weird, how I don't know things I should know and know things I shouldn't! It seemed this one was a homosexual! Nothing against that, I had some adventures myself over the years... but for now it's better to think about family. Think about settling down, getting married again! Having some kids - hopefully a son to keep things running! It's a cruel thing, but there is no other choice! It's our duty to serve and protect this town.