A kind and brilliant boy, a strange obsession with dolls and a story that still gives me chills

to this day.

My name is Edwin, and here's a scary story.

Like with every job I had up until that point, it started with desperation. The homecoming dance was coming up, and I needed to get enough money to buy a dress and shoes,

and everything I had done up until that point was get babysitting gigs here and there.

Normally, these would be friends of my family who would ask me to watch their kids while

they went out on date night or during the day, when there was a work event where their children

couldn't go. This one was different.

Back then, with house phones, we had mom be the one who picked up the phone all the time,

but on this particular night, I happened to answer from the kitchen.

It was for me.

Not unusual, this is how our friends or anyone really would get a hold of us, except for a few who had cell phones already.

It was a woman named Elizabeth who asked for me by name, saying that she had these

appointments every Thursday evening for a recurring commitment at work, and that until they

got a replacement, they needed a babysitter only until her and her husband got home, typically

around 7 p.m. on those days.

Would 80 bucks be all right? Of course it would,

especially back then. This was good money. I would only have to work a day and be able to afford most of what I would need and needed to pay for as a high school kid. There was one bus that would take me there.

It drove down one of the side streets by the highway and took me straight to the small

valley just over the hill that the entire town could see from pretty much anywhere.

Rock Hill, we called it, although it had a name that I only found after getting on that bus.

Drewberry viewpoint.

...