Next on our list is the former town librarian. Nancy Petersen was a woman that died in a spectacular fashion in 1998.
The Nine Greatest Deaths in the History of Marsden Creek: 4
By Nick Lachmund
Nancy grew up in Marsden Creek as a shy and timid child. She left town after school to study and returned a few years later to become the librarian. Her teachers, friends and family were all so happy to have Nancy back. It seemed like she hadn’t changed a bit. The same old, quiet Nancy, now in charge of all of their literary demands. But Nancy had changed more than any of them had known.
Nancy’s first sexual experience happened in her second year of university. She had gotten frustrated with her virginity so she decided to lose it. Picking a shy boy named Craig from her college, Nancy initiated a pick-up and let Craig take the lead. She ended up in his room and the deed was done. The encounter was brief and painful, but Nancy was glad it was over. But, in the days that followed, Nancy experienced something unexpected. She began to crave another session. She began to feel herself getting wet during the day and having wildly inventive fantasies. It was as if Nancy had opened a door to her sexuality that couldn’t be closed. In the years that followed, Nancy experimented with men and women of all varieties. Her sexual appetite continued to grow and grow.
Moving home wasn’t easy but the job paid well and Nancy felt like it was the smart choice. Her plan was to travel on weekends and quench her sexual thirsts. But waiting for the weekends proved to be harder than she thought. A few months into the job, Nancy began to find herself unable to concentrate on her work. One particular Wednesday, she found herself imagining fucking all the people in the library. She pictured Bob, the retired bookworm taking her from behind; and June, the young primary school teacher with her head between her legs; and Paul, the local newspaper reporter with his cock in her mouth. Nancy closed her eyes and the imagery flowed around her head until she felt a warm tingle all over her body. As her eyes opened, she was surprised to see everyone staring at her. Then she realised; Nancy had started touching herself and had let out a scream. Lowering her skirt, she stood and left the library. Her cheeks reddened and a few tears landed on her cheeks as she fled.
As expected in a small town, word of Nancy’s ‘incident’ spread quickly. Her younger siblings were taunted at school and women at the supermarket snickered at Nancy’s mum. Nancy was mortified. When she eventually went back to work she found ‘SLUT’ painted across the front of the library. She broke down and began to cry. She wanted the small minded arseholes to know how damaging their taunts could be. Nancy decided that she had to end it. She wanted them all to see her die. She wanted them all to suffer for what they had done.
I was only a kid walking through town that day. My mum screamed and pointed before trying to shield my eyes. The rope was tied to the clock tower above the library. The noose was around Nancy’s neck and her face looked purple, compared to rest of her naked body. The paleness of her skin was contrasted by the word ‘SLUT’, scrawled in dark markings across her stomach. People around me gasped and screamed but I just stared. Staring at the curves of her bare hips, the perkiness of her breasts and the light shading of pubic hair made me feel a longing that I hadn’t felt before. Nancy, in her death, had opened the door to my sexual desires. At that point I knew; I needed to see another dead naked woman. Only next time, I needed to be able to touch her.