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A Beacon Chainsaw Massacre

Chapter Text

Peter slipped the hunting knife into his boot as he stood up from the forest floor holding a small lock of black hair. Derek tilted his head as he watched his uncle stand up from the shallow grave that he had dug only ten minutes prior.
"Hair ?"
Derek asked curiously unsure as to why his uncle acts out his strange little ritual
"Keepsakes, same as your pictures. Its respectful Derek. We do it so they won't be forgotten."
Derek hummed thoughtfully as he began to shovel dirt down onto the body. He was plunging his shovel back into the pile of loose dirt when a thunderous blood curdling scream of pain filled the quiet of the forest and Peter slipped the hair into a small clear sandwich bag and tucking it into his pocket with a wide grin
"Looks like someone went stepping where they shouldn't."
He began to head off in the direction of the scream with the sick twisted smile on his face but Derek grunted loudly and jerked his head back toward the house. Peter groaned loudly and threw his hands up in frustration,
"Seriously ?!. We are not going back for that damn chainsaw! You can do it with your hands!"
Derek grunted loudly again and turned dragging his shovel at his side, Peter begrudgingly following behind. The pair trudged through the darkness until they broke through the thick line of trees revealing that back porch of the Hale house