As children, we often miss the obvious. It’s only as adults that we truly understand certain events that happened during our childhood. It was the same for me. Only now that I’m older do I realize what happened during one of my summer vacations.
I was a city child, but my parents used to spend the summer at their holiday home. It wasn’t as fancy as it might sound. No, it wasn’t much more than a small cabin near a rural town in the middle of nowhere. I absolutely loved it, though, as well as the wild plains, the thick forest, and every other element of rural life. At times, I played soccer with the local kids; at others, I went on little adventures. What I enjoyed the most was to ride my bike for hours on end. I often followed the many dirt roads and paths to see where I’d end up.
One day, after another long bike ride, I met a friendly old couple. They were walking along the dirt road in my direction. As soon as the old woman noticed me, she gave me a warm greeting. The two of them reminded me of my grandparents, so I smiled and waved at them. The moment I’d passed them, the old woman called out to me.
“Oh my, you shouldn’t go any further, little boy,” she started. “You’ll end up in the swamps. Better turn around.”
When I looked ahead, I saw she was right, and the dirt road soon turned into a muddy mess. I spun my bike around, and before I knew it, I began talking to them. They told me they’d been hiking and berry-picking in the forest and were on their way home. Their house was nearby, at the edge of the forest. They preferred it out here, away from the bustle of town. When they asked me if I’d moved to town, I told them I was on only here on vacation and that I lived in a big city. It wasn’t long before we arrived at the edge of the forest, and I could see a big old house, perfectly nestled between the trees. As we continued on, the old lady asked me if I wanted to join them for something to drink or maybe a snack. I thanked her but shock my head. It was almost time for dinner, and if I’d be late again, I’d be in trouble with my mom. When I made it back to the cabin, my parents were already waiting for me to get dinner ready. I never told them about the friendly old couple I’d met, or I simply forgot to mention them.
A few days later, I found myself on the same dirt road once more. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to pay them a visit. As I approached the house, I saw them sitting outside on a Hollywood swing. I waved and greeted them. The moment the old lady recognized me, she was ecstatic, and she got up and walked toward me.
“My, guess who’s back, Herbert!” she exclaimed to her husband.
“What brings you back to us boring old folks?” he asked, laughing.
I was a shy child, and when they both spoke to me so openly, I couldn’t help but cast down my eyes. I told them in a quiet voice that I was nearby and thought it was the proper thing to say hello.
“Now aren’t you a well-mannered young gentleman,” the old lady said, giving me a bright smile.
“You want to sit down for a bit, boy?” Herbert asked and motioned toward the now-empty spot on the swing.
After leaning my bike against a tree, I went over and sat down right next to him. His wife, named Elsa, watched us for a bit before she nodded and went inside. It wasn’t long before my small talk with Herbert turned to birds and forest animals. It had been a lifelong interest of his. After some time, he asked me if I’d ever seen any real forest animals, like a badger, a deer, or even just a rabbit. I guess he’d remembered that I was from the city. I told him I had, but only a few times, from afar or in an animal park. Herbert laughed and said I was in for a treat. With that, he got up and motioned for me to follow him.
He led me into the house, up the stairs, and opened the door to a big room. As I stepped inside, my eyes grew wide. The room was filled with all sorts of forest animals and birds. At first, I cringed back in shock, but I soon noticed that none of them were moving. Herbert explained that there was no reason for me to be afraid. Those were all stuffed, or better, preserved animals. In younger years, he’d earned a living doing this. He’d been a taxidermist. To this day, I remember how weird it felt to stand in a room surrounded by dozens of dead animals. After letting me look around for a bit, Herbert began telling me a bit about each one of them. Soon enough, my uneasiness vanished, and I listened intently to his explanations. We’d gone through almost all the animals when we heard Elsa calling out to us from downstairs. I noticed how Herbert’s expression turned dark for a moment.
“Well, I better have a look at what she did this time,” he said and left the room.
I looked around some more, here and there touching the preserved animals, if only to make sure they weren’t alive after all. It wasn’t long before Herbert came back and continued his brief lecture. Looking back, I think the old man was happy I was so interested in his preserved animals. Before long, he led me back outside. With a laugh, he told me we’d spent way too much time in the animal room and that it was getting late. I said goodbye to Herbert, waved to Elsa, and went on my way back to my parents’ cabin. That night, my thoughts revolved all around the forest animals Herbert had shown me, and it took me forever to fall asleep.
The next day, right after lunch, I went out with my bike again, and this time, I drove straight to Herbert and Elsa’s house. When I arrived, I only saw Elsa. She was sitting on the swing and busied herself with a bouquet. Her face lit up the moment she saw me, and she waved me over. She told me Herbert wasn’t around and had gone on one of his solitary walks through the forest. After listening to her for a bit, I asked, with downcast eyes, if I could see the preserved animals again.
“Oh, of course you can, my dear little boy,” Elsa answered.
With that, she got a hold of my hand and led me inside. It felt weird to hold hands with her, but I was too shy to say anything. As we made our way up the stairs, she babbled on without end. Even after we’d entered the room, she kept telling me how happy she was I’d come back and asked me if I wanted to see something else. Without waiting for an answer and beaming, she told me it was their children’s old playroom. I was sure to enjoy it. A little annoyed, but also curious, I followed her. The room Elsa led me to was almost as big as Herbert’s animal room. Elsa was right. It was a playroom. Toys were everywhere, and I was taken aback by their sheer number. I saw wooden blocks, dolls, teddy bears, toy cars, trains, and much, much more.
“It’s fine. Go ahead. You can play with anything you want.”
I looked at her for a moment before I stepped into the room and looked around awkwardly. I was already twelve years old, and all of those toys were for children much younger than me. Still, once more I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to Elsa.
“I’m going to be right back, all right? Just have fun,” she said, giggling a little.
Soon after Elsa had left, I left the playroom as well. It was so boring. As I made my way down the hallway, back to the animal room, I noticed that one of the other doors was slightly ajar. When I peeked inside, I didn’t see a thing. It was almost pitch-black inside. A quick glance showed me that Elsa wasn’t around anymore, and so I opened the door a tad bit further. I could now see that variety of cribs and beds filled the room. A big black curtain covered the only window. I had seen no one else here, but Elsa had talked about children. Maybe this room used to be their nursery. I’d taken only a single step inside when I noticed something, or better, someone, in the bed to my right. I jumped back and almost screamed. My first thought was that someone was sleeping in the bed, but I soon realized they weren’t moving at all. I laughed a little when I realized my mistake. It was a doll. When my eyes got used to the darkness of the room, I noticed there were more of them. A whole assortment of dolls were sitting or lying in the beds and cribs all around me. Each of them sprouted a nameplate. Here was Sam, followed by Peter and Marcel, then Tom, and on it went. I stepped up to the bed with the name Sam on it to have a closer look. As I touched the doll’s arm, it felt strange and much too soft to be cloth. I was a little weirded out, but soon my eyes wandered from the doll to a small wooden box sitting at the foot of the bed. In fine letters, the same name, Sam, was written on it. In the dark, it took me a few seconds to find the lid. Before I could open it, though, Elsa called out to me from downstairs. In an instant, I rushed from the room but realized I was still holding the box in my hands. Elsa was already on the stairs and her footsteps were getting closer. Afraid I’d done something wrong, I was quick to hide the box in my backpack. I told myself I’d return it later. I’d barely done so when Elsa appeared and led me downstairs to their kitchen.
“Oh, you must be awfully thirsty, right?” she asked and was about to hand me a glass of lemonade.
Right at that moment, Herbert, still wearing a pair of stout hiking boots, entered the room.
“Well, that was—” he started but broke off when he saw us.
His gaze rested on me for a moment before he stepped up to Elsa with a sad expression on his face.
“Elsa, your diabetes, you know what the doctor said.”
“Oh, Herbert, it’s for the boy, he’s—”
“Elsa, no. You know you can’t keep doing this. It’s not good.”
With that, he took the glass from her now-shaking hands. She looked first at him, then at me, then at him again before tears began streaming from her eyes.
“It’s all right, Elsa,” he said.
I just stood there, not understanding what was going on. After a few moments, Herbert turned to me and told me that today wasn’t a good day. I nodded and soon left their house, wondering what was wrong with Elsa.
I spent the rest of the day in town with some of my local friends and had soon forgotten all that had happened. In the evening, while I was getting ready for bed, my mom found the small wooden box I’d hidden in my backpack.
“Now who’s this, Sam?” she asked me with an amused smile on her face.
“Oh no, I forgot to put it back!” I exclaimed when I saw what she was holding.
Mom gave me a curious look, and I soon explained how I’d come into possession of the box. I told her about the sweet old couple, rambled on about Herbert’s preserved animals and finally where I’d found the box. I still remember how her face turned more and more serious the longer she listened to me. When I was done, she was quick to send me to bed.
A loud argument woke me up in the middle of the night. When I left my small bedroom, I found Mom in tears and my dad talking to a group of men I didn’t know. The moment he noticed me, he told me everything was all right and sent me back to bed. The next day, however, my parents told me that something had come up, and we were returning home. I never found out what happened that night, and over the years, I’d forgotten about it.
It was an old newspaper article that should reveal the truth of to me. I’d been at the library’s archive, doing research for a university project, when I stumbled upon it.
The Case of the Bassinet Children—Old Couple Found Guilty in Missing Children’s Case
The article talked about a bizarre and gruesome discovery at the home of an elderly couple. I skimmed it out of sheer boredom, but I looked up when I read the names Herbert and Elsa. It took a while, but then I remembered the friendly old couple. When I checked the date of the article, I saw it was exactly from the time I’d met them. At first, I told myself it was a coincidence, but soon I couldn’t deny the truth any longer. Through the decades, the two of them had murdered at least thirteen children of varying age. The police found the proof right there, at their home. In one room of the house, they discovered the mostly preserved bodies of their victims. When I read the word taxidermist, it clicked. I remembered how wrong the doll had felt, and in an instant I realized where I’d been back then. In a room filled with the preserved bodies of all those children.
I called my mom that same evening. At first, she feigned ignorance, but then she told me what she and Dad had found in the small wooden box. It contained various pieces of memorabilia and several photographs. At first, it was a picture of a little boy outside, either alone or with a lady who must’ve been in her fifties. They were normal enough, at least at first. Then they found pictures of the boy unconscious, then in a different set of clothing and finally in a small bed sprouting his name. After what I’d told her, she called the police then and there. They arrested the couple that same evening with no resistance. While Herbert gave himself up, Elsa didn’t seem to understand what was happening. It was later attributed to her suffering from an early stage of dementia.
I found Herbert’s testimony in a different article. The two of them never had children. Medical issues. Elsa never got over the fact. She loved children more than anything, but since she couldn’t have any of her own, this love soon turned into an obsession. She often invited local children into her home to play with them and to give them snacks. It was harmless at first, but one day she went further and drugged a little boy. He never woke up again. Elsa pleaded with Herbert not to take her baby away, to never take him from her again. Herbert know something had to be done about the body, but seeing his wife like this broke something inside of him. He then admitted to a thing he should’ve never done.
That was only the first victim, though. Herbert knew his wife was sick, but he couldn’t bear to report her, and so he did what he could to protect her and keep her happy. I stopped reading there. The entire story made me too sick to continue digging into it.
There’s one thing I’m wondering about, though. How close was I to becoming another one of Elsa’s victims? At those times, I can’t help but think about Herbert’s behavior and what he told his wife that afternoon. Even now, even knowing about what he did, I know it’s all thanks to the old man that I’m still alive today.
