Blair Witch- Creek Drowning and Sludge Water

Green was standing over one of the display cases. Crawford walked over to
join him. In the case were half a dozen old newspaper articles, and some
handwritten letters. Green pointed to one of those letters.
"Can you read that?"
Crawford leaned over and squinted.
The letter was dated August 22, 1825.

Dear Mary,
I am most awfully sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news in this letter.
No, it is worse than bad news, it is horrible, tragic news. The Treacles' little girl, Eileen, whom Madeleine and Justine played with last summer, died a few days ago. She drowned in the very same creek where she and your girls swam, and to make matters worse for her parents, the body has not been found. Jonathan and I are spending every moment we can with them, naturally, so I am sorry to say that we will not be coming to Washington this weekend.
I will write more as I can.
Your loving sister,
Elizabeth Branwell-Burkitt

Next to that letter was another in the same handwriting, dated two days later--August 24, 1825.

Dear Mary,
Jonathan would not like to hear me say it, but perhaps you are right.
Perhaps this town is cursed.
You were the one who told me about what happened here forty years ago: why the old town of Blair had been abandoned. And now I must tell you of something that took place only this morning, which brings all those horrible stories to my mind.
The water that irrigates the eastern part of our farm is from the very same creek the Treacle girl drowned in. As Jonathan and I were breakfasting today, the overseer burst in and declared that someone had poisoned the creek.
Jonathan set off with him immediately, leaving his meal unfinished. I was too upset to finish mine.
When Jonathan returned, his face was drawn, and grim. The overseer had not lied: the water, he said, was oily, and thick with a noxious-smelling substance. He had ordered the irrigation ditches filled, though he was afraid the crops had already been damaged.
Then he pulled out something from within his coat and set it down on the table. For a moment I thought it a doll, but then I realized it was a bundle of sticks tied together, in the shape of a man.
There were dozens of them clogging the creek, Jonathan told me.
Oh, dear sister, I remembered then that horrible book you showed me, about that witch, and the pictures of the evil charms she used. This stickman, I believe, was one of those very same charms!
I know you will think me foolish, but I have taken the red berries from the rowan tree we planted near the garden and strung them into a necklace for Justine to wear, as a ward against evil. Just as the old women in Lancashire would have done.
Oh, how I wish you were here so that I could confide in you further. Jonathan is so enamored of our house here, and the new town that bears his father's name, he will not hear talk of any curse.
But had I my druthers, we would leave this place immediately, and never return.
Write me back--soon, please, dearest sister, and tell me it is all in my imagination.
Yours,
Elizabeth

Crawford cleared his throat. "Well," he began, then realized he didn't know what the hell he wanted to say. He looked at Green. "So you think this-- stickman thing, that happened in"--Crawford glanced back at the letter--"in 1825, this is related to the stickman we found in the grave tonight?"

- Blair Witch: Graveyard Shift, chapter Five