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"An unexpected gift from a secret Santa had arrived - or so I thought, Jenny, even though it wasn't the usual day for it" Louanne continued with the story she had been recounting for the exclusive TV interview. "What was it, Louanne?" The interviewer, Jenny Smith-Owens, a well-respected journalist asked for the benefit of the viewing audience. "It looked similar to the ransom notes from all those years back, but it wasn't. At first, I thought it was a sick prank, Jenny. But it wasn't. It was a miracle." "When you mention the ransom notes, Louanne, you're talking about those first few letters you received after your daughter Sarah was taken back in 1988, is that right?" Jenny peered inquisitively from the top of her glasses. "Yes, Jenny. That's correct. Not that they were actually ransom letters. I don't believe that they ever had any intention of letting Sarah go." Louanne's eyes narrowed. "Who is the 'they' you speak of, Louanne?" "The cult, Jenny. The Cult of the Dead Heart." -- December 1988 Thirteen-year-old Sarah Christianson was walking home from the last day of school before the holiday break. She had been in a particular rush as this was the day that she and her family were going to put up their Christmas tree. From the time Sarah was a small child, this had been her favorite Christmas activity - save for Christmas day itself. She never made it home. Days later her backpack was located alongside an old logging road that was not in regular use anymore. The area had been searched thoroughly to no avail. There was no clear sign at all. Until the first letter arrived. In typical ransom note form, individual letters had been clipped from newspaper and magazine articles to construct the sentences. There was even an old church bulletin that had been chopped up for use. And to add insult to injury, bits of a holiday catalog were used as well. "If yOu EvEr wÄnT t0 sEE yOur dAuGhT3r AgA1n, Y0u wILL aWaIt FuRtHeR iNsTrUCTi0n &amp; dO aS wE sAy." Read the letter that was emblazoned on cheery-looking holiday card stock. But no further instruction ever arrived. Several other letters appeared over time, but never any instruction. It was almost as if the letters served no purpose other than to menace and provoke Louanne, her husband Jimmy, and Sarah's little sister Janie. Eventually, the case went cold and Sarah's grieving family tried to attempt a normal life. Until December 2024 when another letter arrived. -- "And what did that letter say, Louanne?" Jenny prompted. Louanne turned to pick up a photocopy of the letter so it could be shown directly to the camera as she spoke. "It says," she held the letter up. "sH3 LeFt uS. ShE Is Y0Ur pRoBlEm N0w. UnLeSs We FiNd HeR fIrSt." "My, that sure is threatening," Jenny shook her head in disgust. "It's a good thing they didn't find her first, isn't it?" Louanne's eyes were welling up. "Yes it is, Jenny," she dabbed at the fallen tears. "And hopefully someday soon she will be able to tell us exactly what happened to her." Jenny sympathetically reached out and grabbed Louanne's hand. "Yes, Louanne. That is our hope and the hope of everyone watching here tonight. Someday soon we hope that she will regain her ability to speak," the camera panned closer to Jenny's face. "For the few who haven't been following this harrowing tale, Sarah has not spoken since she was found wandering alongside that same logging road on which her backpack was found back in 1988. She was walking and appeared to be in somewhat stable condition, but she seems to be unable to communicate verbally." "She knew who we were though, Jenny, when we went to see her in the hospital. She smiled faintly and held out her hand for us to touch. She didn't want to be hugged though." Louanne dabbed at her eyes again. "I hope that changes soon," she sniffled. "I just want to hug my daughter," "I hope that changes soon too, Louanne," Jenny said grabbing Louanne's hand once more. "I really do."

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Sarah Came Home

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Sarah Came Home is now complete! Don't forget to vote in the December Challenge! Happy Holidays!

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Sarah Came Home

LaylaBeth555

Layla Beth Munk (c)

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Layla Beth Munk

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