This story takes place in the second largest city in Iowa in 1973.

I was a 5-foot-8, 20-year-old, weighing 120 pounds.

I lived alone in a large, old, two-story house with four apartments, two upstairs and two downstairs.

My one-bedroom apartment was downstairs.

My friend, Steve and Gary, along with their infant daughter, lived upstairs. I had gone to high school with Steve and had worked in housekeeping with his wife, G, in the past. At that time, I was

employed as a waitress at a steak and brew restaurant, working both the

lunch and dinner shifts.

One sunny spring morning, as I was walking to the bus stop to go to work, a massive man

materialized from thin air as if summoned by demons from the depths of the abyss below.

Before I could recover from the shock of his sudden appearance, he viciously grabbed me by the forearms and yanked me off the side of the abyss below. Before I could recover from the shock of his sudden appearance,

he viciously grabbed me by the forearms and yanked me off the sidewalk. Quickly recovering from my

initial shock, I immediately screamed at him. Let go of me. As he pulled me closer to his massive chest,

my nostrils were assaulted by the worst maladour I had ever experienced. The overpowering

stench of putrefaction, urine, filth, body odor, and some unidentified chemical reminiscent of a

substance you might encounter in a school science lab gagged me. I've never before or since

encountered such an utterly disgusting, gag-inducing odor.

I almost couldn't breathe.

This coming from me, who has an iron constitution, says a lot.

I'm the person you call to clean out a fridge full of rotting food that's been sitting in the

110 degree heat for three months with the power off because I can

handle it. As if his weak appearance wasn't terrifying enough, this man weighed at least 400 pounds and

was a good 6 foot 8. I twisted and turned, but he just gripped my arms ever tighter.

...