*Based on the true life letternwritten by one Albert HamiltonnFish and sent to one Delia Budd innthe November of 1934*nnDearestnDelia, on the sixth month, 28thnyear I called up on your family atn406 West 15, brought modest giftsnin form of light fare. Grace wasnso sweet, glowing with suchnchild-like glee. Her kisses placednon my cheek told me. I made up mynmind to consume your daughternright then and there (Her warmth,nher laugh, her body. Her youth hernlips her skin) and so formed anpretense of gatherings, ofnaffairs. Received your blessingsnDelia, when asked to bring yourndaughter there. She picked thenwildflowers hillside as I, I shednattire in fear her blood evernstained. Through picking outnposies, cold cheeks oh so rosy,nshe stepped in the manor she’dnrest in. Her blood ever stainednthese wood floors. She tried tonflee vainly crying out your namenwhen she sensed the danger uponnsighting my worn frame. Oh how didnshe kick, bite and scratch butnracing hearts will calm withnconvincing touches slowing acts ofnhuman instinct ‘til all will isngone. Still how sweet and tendernyoung Grace was without spirits.nCertifiably, as little more than ansummer’s week I’d feast upon hernflesh, her organs, legs, her arms,ntorso and neck. Oh such sweetnGrace. Her warmth, her laugh, hernbody. Her youth, her lips and hernskin. If only ‘gain. Rest assuredndear, your daughter would remainnentirely pure until the end of allnher shortened days.