She had stringy red hair that had been dyed many times. The original color was not apparent. Her arm bone had been fractured several times, probably in her youth. She had a heavyset frame, but the sun had bleached it so long that it appeared brittle and fragile. *%* Wed Oct 29 16:17:13 PST 2003

she was sometimes happy, usually happy. But she couldn't remember those times when she was sad. When she was sad, the world was not worth living in. She was begining to realize that she was living in the wrong time, the wrong place. She swore once she left this world she would never come back. *%* Thu Oct 16 10:19:35 PDT 2003

she is a tart. sexy in a skirt, and moves with a bounce *%* Wed Oct 15 14:23:23 PDT 2003

Tall and athletic she was apparently an athlete, of african decent *%* Mon Oct 13 14:44:38 PDT 2003

a sorcerer *%* Mon Sep 29 17:03:27 PDT 2003

She was a white female with a shortened right femur, which was an agrevating debilitation. This was more than likely the reason she committed suicide!! *%* Thu Mar 29 18:50:18 EST 2001

She is a woman from New York or another big city that went to a vaction in the wilderness where she thought she could relax. *%* Tue Mar 27 22:22:50 EST 2001

She was a housewife, loving and strong. Her husband was an abusive drunk, but she loved him anyway. She tolerated his abuse, because she did not believe in divorce. She felt that if she loved him more, then he would change, by God's will. She was wrong. *%* Mon Feb 19 21:33:33 EST 2001

She was sitting at her computer, waiting for a large image to load. Perhaps there was a lot of traffic on the wires, or it was a very detailed image, or it had already been taken down or had been linked incorrectly and there would soon be a message "document contains no data" or some such. She zoomed the cursor around the screen as if that would help. The mouse pad said "Blues for Allah" and had a picture of a skeleton playing a fiddle. She was very tired. *%* Wed Sep 10 18:53:50 EDT 1997

I think today she is a german girl. With roots in this land, what also has a northern style. *%* Tue Sep 9 06:51:30 EDT 1997

she is woman at age 44. She is pretty, tall, and blond. *%* Wed Sep 3 13:55:25 EDT 1997

Yes, well it was many years ago. I think they even lived in the same apartment briefly. In Minneapolis or St. Paul. There was a cat I think, and a girlfriend who was a writer. (My Mother always wanted me to be a writer). They lost touch though for decades -- I really don't know what happened. And then my Mother died, nearly three years ago. I know almost nothing about the woman. But I wonder. *%* Tue Jul 22 14:46:34 CDT 1997

*%* Wed Jun 11:44:00 EDT 1997
Interesting observation, but is it germane ? We're interested in the identity of the woman. Who is she? Will the respondee with the mother who may have known her, please contact us. You may know more than you think. At least we hope so.

huge lobes of the head with its own weather patterns *%* Tue Jun 10 15:13:55 CDT 1997

My mother knew her well. She disappeared one night at least five years ago. I remember only that Mother suspected someone but wouldn't talk about it. *%* Thu Jun 5 10:12:19 CDT 1997

*%* Thu Jun 5:44:00 EDT 1997
Please have your mother contact us. This is important. Thank you.

Turns out she's an old friend of my Mother's. Lost touch long ago. *%* Wed Jun 4 13:49:35 CDT 1997

She was a beggar from Tanzania, secretly importing herself to the US without even telling her own family, a 19 year old rebel, and a mystique. Something followed her. *%* Wed Mar 26 03:24:24 CST 1997

She was someone in search of a past that seemed to echo in her as the silent wilderness that had now consummed her. *%* Sat Mar 22 23:09:06 CST 1997

Early twenties, long dark hair, medium height. Gray eyes, flecks of gold. *%* Sun Mar 16 22:52:46 CST 1997

She was someone I thought I had forgotten. *%* Wed Feb 12 11:11:41 CST 1997

Lyla. Beautiful as her name tripping off the tongue of her assailant in that long last plaintiff moan. She had been tall for thirteen and thirsty for being thirty. Her skin so tight the tips of her ears burned cherry. Her laughter promising so much more. Well? promises are for chasing deep. Deep into northern territories but not deep enough to escape the terror of more southern climes. *%* Thu Feb 6 16:08:26 CST 1997

She was a woman alone, a Mountain Girl by nature, now a fish in the hands of urban explorers. She wandered into area during the depression, the daughter of a newspaper columnist in an Eastern metropolis. Her father was given the keys to the city, worked long hours and died of inoperable lung cancer. Her mother lay for long hours beneath the damask folds of her canopy bed, an invalid, invalidated by her family's derision and social standing. She felt like she had to make her way in a different world. She was quiet, strong and lovely, lean and tall, with a brow like a bank of snow and eyes that were flinty, sharp and scared as a wild creature. She forgot about her family. *%* Mon Feb 3 01:45:49 CST 1997

a poor old french student. *%* Fri Jan 31 06:28:23 CST 1997

The most troublesome thing, the piece of the puzzle which would always remain out of place, was motivation. Why had she done it, I wondered? The bones spoke volumes - each scarred, gnawed, destroyed fragment was a cornucopia of facts.

But the words which explained her actions...the words which spoke of her soul...were absent. They could not be carved deeply enough, into bone or any other material. The erosion of silence had worn them away. *%* Fri Jan 10 21:19:44 EST 1997

An old woman named Sarah lived in a cabin by the side of a rutted access road only the locals knew about. She had lived there for decades--for as long as anyone could remember--until her death last year. Only the town grocer and a few old timers could remember ever talking to her, but she figured heavy in local legend--as an escaped mental patient, a murderess, an escaped mental patient-murderess, and the mother of an army of mythical escaped mental patient-murdererers. Occasionally the woman was visited by a girl that many assumed to be her granddaughter. But there is no record of her ever having born children. *%* Tue Jan 7 14:03:10 EST 1997

It's dark and cold as in hell. No flowers no sun no water no fun. Do I breath? Am I still alive? Oh I wonder why I look down the earth and see nothing. *%* Sun Jan 5 16:24:24 EST 1997

mother in law *%* Wed Jan 1 14:23:31 EST 1997

she is the victim of nobody, nowhere, and never. everything and nothing. a grieving bullet to the head. *%* Sun Dec 29 15:37:15 EST 1996

somehow ....a school teacher comes to mind...skull shows signs of more than general intelligence...the angle of the bullet hole shows.. well..not much....right-handed, perhaps. *%* Sat Oct 26 01:21:33 EDT 1996

She is everything. I lost her on my way from naivete. *%* Fri Oct 25 10:44:18 EDT 1996

She seems to be something out of my past. Vestiges of all that ever plagued me. *%* Thu Oct 24 19:15:37 EDT 1996

she is a runaway who started working for a magazine subscription service in 1973, which turned out to be a cult. After spending two nights in jail for trying to cash a bad check in a supermarket she returned to the cult. No one had heard from her in four months before her parents put out an APB on her in Montana. Her remains were found here many years later. *%* Thu Oct 24 01:57:55 EDT 1996

within the gnawed ends of her broken bones, the marrow had been removed, and a small paper scroll in a glass vial inserted. By Whom? *%* Wed Oct 23 19:59:10 EDT 1996

I would recommend that you do some research into the past life of the coroner who decided that a dead body in the middle of nowhere with a bullet wound in her head and no weapon on the scene must be a suicide. Are there any missing females among his circle of friends and family? Please keep me informed as more information becomes available................Jessica F. *%* Tue Oct 22 17:50:35 EDT 1996

She is God *%* Sat Oct 19 18:17:56 CDT 1996

She bites her lip, wondering if it is sensible to accept a lift from the couple. It's cold. She's not even sure if she knows the way. Her wheelchair is not easy to manouver on the muddy soft shoulder of the highway. The couple in the car seem concerned for her safety. *%* Fri Oct 18 19:57:31 EDT 1996

She was Mary Johnston the waitress at the local diner, who worked part time at the Wal-Mart selling bait and ammunition to the locals. She had been in a car accident a few weeks before. Someone ran her off of the road after she had closed up at the diner. She had a temporary case of amnesia after the accident, but came out of it a few days later. Even after she regained her memory, she still had no concious recollection of the accident. While under hypnosis the only thing she revealed about it was how green the grass looked in the bright yellow lights as she felt the car roll three times into the field off of Miller's Hwy. The traffic officer noted the streak of green paint on the car door when he investigated the accident. All that doesn't really matter now, does it? *%* Fri Oct 18 19:24:52 EDT 1996

your mom *%* Fri Oct 18 15:31:29 EDT 1996

some model or something *%* Fri Oct 18 15:28:03 EDT 1996

She was an actress. She had many triumphs in her career however the man(woman) she loved was never faithful. the lifestyle the drink the drugs clouded reality for her. In the end this was her only way out. *%* Fri Oct 18 13:29:25 EDT 1996

Hungry? *%* Fri Oct 18 08:22:03 EDT 1996

She had a strange propensity for porcine pleasure. *%* Fri Oct 18 02:27:54 CDT 1996

She is the very earth of early settlements, the brown earth turned, the blood let on her innovcent soil the hunted the hunter the Indians too with blood spilled in their own right, and she is the murdered little girl of the Browns next door prairie dress long tattered, food stamps in her pocket long disintegrated. She is, as they say, of the area. *%* Thu Oct 17 20:41:34 CDT 1996

a woman after my own heart, that's what her soul is twined in time in simultaneous parity/disparity who knows how long we'll have these forms?! one day we will be walking our skin curl up, our flesh drop off, our bones fall who then would know what kind you are who tell what kind i am? a gentle spirit means more to me, a restless spirit who, then, would know what kind you are who tell what kind i am? *%* Fri Oct 11 02:30:42 EDT 1996

Sadly she is the county firechiefs daughter who became involved with Sam Medford, a salesman of hospital supplies. Sam had moved to town from Cedar Falls to replace the previous salesman, who had died at the relatively young age of 58. *%* Fri Oct 11 01:55:22 EDT 1996

ejbgjkt ikjfghwekjthg ewjhgkje kjvehvkh dfivhkjv ighvkjhs kjhvkjvjdb kjdfvkj kjfhvkjh *%* Thu Oct 10 14:45:07 EDT 1996

*%* Sat Oct 12 04:45:08 EDT jkpod hvtyludsg iggeepop klevavjier egghpty

Ahead of her time and out of your mind. She graces carpal midnight excursions into aether, electron mistress, bane to lonely matress, hurt and sad but always there. Further infolding but somehow more undone, she picks up the phone. *%* Mon Oct 7 01:13:54 EDT 1996

She is not she at all; she is book. She is a book no one would read, bound by covers, simultaneously splayed and inscrutable on the page. *%* Sat Oct 5 14:16:20 EDT 1996

Some remember her. She is still a vivid presence in their minds. But if you ask them to describe her, they would all hesitate. Their answers would be contradictory, as if their minds have no more hold upon her than upon the remains of childhood. Others simply have no recollection of her at all, even though they might number among those most closely assosiated with her. It seems as though she was, and is, unbearably light of being. *%* Thu Oct 3 23:12:59 EDT 1996

The ranking inspector on the scene approched me a few days later, at a coffee bar. "The remains were scattered, sure, almost as if animals had gnawed them," he shifted in his seat and took a steaming sip, "but I think, in retrospect there was an order, that they were arranged in a pattern. I have dreampt twice since then, that my wife was dead. I found her purse on the edge of a lake, frogs were jumping through checkbooks and makeup. I look up at the officer next to me, and say, 'My wife is dead. Whoever put this here did it to send a message. You see over there, her bent earring, and just to the right, the dogeared light bill, he's even opened her lipstick, that means he will shoot her, probably in the head.'" *%* Thu Oct 3 01:30:53 EDT 1996

little red riding hood *%* Tue Oct 1 10:07:58 EDT 1996

*%* Tues Oct 1 04:45:59 EDT And she couldn't tell the difference between her grandmother and a wolf?? No natural born North Country child this one!

She's a Santerian. *%* Thu Sep 26 01:30:53 CDT 1996

She is every Woman..... *%* Fri Sep 20 16:22:01 EDT 1996

Laura,.....Laura,......Laura,..? *%* Sun Sep 15 22:18:06 EDT 1996

She's a quasa human imp, impounded on this godfosaken world by a naughty babydropper. *%* Thu Sep 12 21:40:14 EDT 1996

*%* Sat Sep 14 10 24::15 EDT1996 Question: Are "naughty babydroppers" the pregnant teen-agers we're hearing so much about? new immigrant mothers? gays with new children ? or just clumsy fathers? Please answer!

Elvis Presley's long lost third wife. *%* Sun Sep 8 23:57:44 EDT 1996

lumberjack *%* Sun Aug 18 11:52:11 EDT 1996

NOTE:   With regard to the recent resurgence of interest in the theory that the skeleton pictured in this story is that of a dead chick: We urge those of you proposing this theory to go back and examine the skull and bones carefully. If you have a hen of these dimensions in your coop, or if you know of someone who has, you should contact Dr. Heny Littlepen immediately. A specialist in hyperpituitarism among poultry, Dr. Littlepen is currently investigating the possibility of using the very large potholes known as "giant's kettle" along the coast of Norway for roosting hens suffering from gigantism. It's implications for omlette eaters is enormous!

She was once a beautiful young reckless woman, until she witnessed her family brutally murdered. Since then she has been delusional and paranoid, afraid of all and trusting nobody, living on her own in the wilderness. *%* Sun Aug 4 16:46:27 EDT 1996

I do not know. *%* Mon Jul 15 16:51:09 EDT 1996

She was the woman no one ever noticed. She left her apartment every day at exactly 6:00 a.m. to work the early shift at the diner. She smiled at every person who came in and at nobody in particular. She carried her disappointments in her shoulders and a troublesome nightmare in her eyes. She thought of telling someone her story a thousand times a day. The thought would pass between "More coffee?" and "Thank you, Sir." People noticed the dark circles under her eyes, but nobody cared a rat's ass about the reasons why. And as things were now, she couldn't get away from it. When she tried to back it off, it came eating its way back, first into the background of her nights and then finally into the screaming white light of right now. *%* Sun Jul 14 02:19:26 EDT 1996

A long, low and infinatly silent hiss followed the concusive cacofony of the exploding revolver. The hiss was that of a keen blade training it's way across the throat that lay below the pistol descimated cranium. Her eyes had been blue. *%* Fri Jul 5 07:05:17 EDT 1996

Her name was Cindi. She was a Dead Head from San Fran.Cindi became very despondent over the death of Jerry. She decided to go camping for a week, do some tripping in the woods, commune with nature, and seek Jerry's spirit. When she ran out of pot and acid, she decided to eat some anamita muscaria, which was very abundant in this forest. She ate too many and went into a coma. Some coy dogs found her wretched body and ripped her to shreds. *%* Mon Jul 1 19:22:04 EDT 1996

a woman after my own heart, that's what her soul is-- twined in time in simultaneous parity/disparity. who knows how long we'll have these forms? one day we could be walking, our skin curl up, our flesh drop off, our bones fall. who, then, would know what kind she is, who tell what kind i am? a gentle spirit means more to me, a restless spirit. who, then, would know what kind she is, who tell what kind i am? *%* Mon Jul 1 01:25:00 EDT 1996

Some remember her. She is still a vivid presence in their minds. But if you ask them to describe her, they would all hesitate. Their answers would be contradictory, as if their minds have no more hold upon her than upon the remains of childhood. Others simply have no recollection of her at all, even though they might number among those most closely assosiated with her. It seems as though she was, and is, unbearably light of being. *%* Sat Jun 29 11:12:37 EDT 1996

She is a dark skined woman. Probably in here thirty's. Try to end it with a quick swim of death in the lake. *%* Sat Jun 29 00:17:43 EDT 1996

An ex-Simpson juror *%* Tue Jun 25 13:55:02 EDT 1996

She was a college student on her way back from a long weekend in Portland. The road had been busy, but no cars had stopped to pick her up. Her name was brenda, a bright youthful shcalor of medicine. HEr third year in med school was almost over, and she, like many of her fellow class-mates, had taken some time off to have fun with friends. It was a wonderfully short weekend, but now she was returning to Montana. Finally, car car pulled up beside her. A young man was driving and offered her a lift. His name was Ted. *%* Fri Jun 21 23:56:10 CDT 1996

She was too good to be true. Or alive. *%* Thu Jun 20 17:55:10 EDT 1996

Annibell had been her name, which went well with the long golden brown hair atop of her pixie-like features. Spring was her time, her enjoymnet of the pasting seasons, always bring with it the new sprigs of light-green, new smells of rebirths forming from the dank odors, of fall's dying and winter's death. Even in death, her spirit was a captive. Not by death itself but by a feeling, a thought, an action not right with the moments, the action that caused her end. *%* Wed Jun 19 19:49:12 CDT 1996

A young, slimly built 20-25 year old woman, with a history of polio. *%* Sat Jun 15 12:34:41 EDT 1996

a rough-hewn woman of great strength. she could not conceive of dying within the confines of a city or the walls of a house. she was composed of absolutely nothing that was not essential. *%* Fri Jun 14 15:17:54 EDT 1996

she is all that remains of the "missing for 10 years" all womem rugby team from Duke wot disappeared while flying to cuba, against the express instructions of the CIA, to play in the 1st annual all women "save the free world" rugby tournament. the captain of the team was in fact a CIA sleeper, the daughter of a chicken farmer from kentucky known, for soon to become obvious reasons as captain Pam Er. this explains the absence of any leg bones and the gnawing effect on the stumps. PS. is there a franchise opportunity going beging here? *%* Wed Jun 12 06:51:15 EDT 1996

She is Dog woman, the freak in the traveling circus. She's related to the genetic abnormal family that lives in Mexico. One can gather from the placement of the bones that she was either killed by a stranger. A stranger makes no effort to conceal the body, while an acquaintance will try to hide their identity. *%* Mon Jun 3 14:39:27 EDT 1996

Stephen Hawking's wife! *%* Thu May 30 19:51:21 EDT 1996

She used to work at a local movie theatre... Until someone decided they could tear the stub on their own... And then she lost her will to live. *%* Tue May 21 23:20:12 EDT1996

*%* Wed May 22 08:45:13 EDT 1996 Allowed herself to be stubbed out pretty easily, didn't she?

She was an every day person, a person of no CONSEQUENCE, a secretary at at used car dealership. *%* Tue May 21 22:19:04 EDT 1996

*%* Fri May 24 14:26:05 EDT 1996
Since posting your message we have received calls from three secretarial associations including Medical Secretaries Ltd. and the Association of American Secretarial Help (AASH), which boasts a membership of over two million men and women nationwide, requesting your name and address. A word to the wise: watch your back.

She is Missy. The cute short red-head that worked at the local Dairy Queen. *%* Sat May 18 06:12:17 EDT 1996

*%* Fri May 24 14:35:07 EDT 1996
We talked to Missy yesterday. She wants you back.

It isn't actually a "human" female! It is actually an alien that crash landed on earth two years ago and has not been able to contact her home planet and get help. After two years of traveling around this horribly weak and adolescent planet of ours she finally became a victom of the dark side of the human race. Raped and beaten and then shot to silence her the killer escapes to return to his life thinking that he has gotten away with it. We will see about that. *%* Fri May 17 16:10:59 EDT 1996

*%* Fri May 24 14:44:00 EDT 1996
Fox and Scully are flying in next week. Please be prepared to meet with them. E-mail for further instructions using Aileen Askin in the body of your text.

an adventurous woman *%* Tue May 14 00:40:44 EDT 1996

A young black female, about 22-24. Into heavy rock and industrial music. She preferred black, black leather, black candles, or you could say dark.. dark music.. really dark music. Like Skinny Puppy. Red was her other color. Red like her nails, her highlights, her eyes, shot and rimmed. *%* Mon May 13 22:35:42 EDT 1996

she looks a bit like a skull. Brown, no eyes, no skin, a hole where her nose used to be, all her hair has been pulled out, toothless, toungeless and lipless. Interesting case, Holmes? *%* Mon May 13 17:07:31 EDT 1996

*%*Tues May 14 9:48:32 EDT 1996
Well observed, my dear Watson.

She is a former Yoko Ono impersontor who became a crack addict but then recovered and went on a book tour. *%* Mon May 13 01:00:34 EDT 1996

NOTE:  My many thanks to the hundreds of you who have written to tell me that she's dead. While I 've not included these messages here, it strikes me that all this enthusiasm for the obvious should not go unremarked.

She is a reporter for a local news station. she got drunk and ate a rat .then she died of rat poisoning! This was the result of a curse her husband put on her following a long drawn out divorce. It all started many years ago on a brilliant morning in Manhatten. *%* Fri May 10 22:17:34 EDT 1996

Your everyday crackpot *%* Fri May 10 05:06:42 EDT 1996

She is cool. *%* Thu May 9 11:08:06 EDT 1996

Her name was Alberta Swensen, she was one of the first Pilgrims that escaped from the British Crown. *%* Tue May 7 17:21:20 EDT 1996

*%* Sat May 11 9:46:21 EDT 1996
Thank you. We are looking into the possibility that Ms. Swenson is our woman. To expedite our investigation, we're asking you to fill in the attached report form and return it to us immediately. Please use our email address.

A plain Jane... someone that no one loved. *%* Sun May 5 05:58:29 EDT 1996

From several feet away, the bones look like old ivory -- gleaming and undisturbed. Up close, it's evident that they are teeming with life. Beetles scurry out from underneath the skull when the investigator pokes it with the toe of his boot. *%* Fri May 3 21:46:23 EDT 1996

*%* Sat May 11 9:54:24 EDT 1996
There may be a job for you at the center. Please contact us.

Perhaps she did commmit suicide. Why has everyone written that off so fast? Maybe she was bored with work, bored with tv, bored with the bars, bored with boys and girls, bored, bored bored. She has fallen victim to our times. She has realized that life is getting worst, not better, and she figured she have a nice picnik an get out while the gettin out's still good.

P.S. for bad days I recommend finger painting and food fights *%* Fri May 3 12:27:24 EDT 1996

If there is onr thing that remains certain in all of this it is the fact that she is all woman. A severely battered and somewhat incomplete woman but what remains is without a doubt the remains of a REAL woman. *%* Thu May 2 01:19:23 EDT 1996

*%* Thur May 2 2:30:30 EDT 1996
I couldn't agree more.

Her name is Cyndi. She had made one very fatal mistake. That was to trust people, and accept them for what they wanted her to believe them to be. You see, she knows who did this awful thing to her. Well, she thought she did. About 2 weeks before that nightmarish event, while in the supermarket on what would have been another of many non-eventful days, she ran into this man. He was very charming, and showed an interest in her that had not been offered her by her husband for some years. Not that they still didn"t love each other, just that they had gotten much to comfortable with each other. Cyndi, had decided to explore the shadier side by having an affair. She had spent many days rationalizing so that she could justify this sin. If she could bring life back into her marriage, then if would be worth the quilt, well, that might have been so, but what if really cost her was her life. The sad part of this tale is, that the man she thought she knew, was not the stranger in the store, but her husband. You see, hee loved her very, very much. *%* Wed May 1 13:15:19 EDT 1996

*%* Thur May 2 2:30:52 EDT 1996
An important addition to the speculation on her identity. I'll get back to you on this one.

Gaia is her name, but she looks like a normal bewildered western girl who forgot her name. Somewhere in space someone is calling her name, but she doesn't know what it means. She is cold from having her bones exposed, which is her profession. Perfect bones in perfect limbs, just that. *%* Tue Apr 30 05:52:34 EDT 1996

*%* Wed May 106:58:36 EDT 1996
In the hopes of securing a firm identification, your message was forwarded to the U.S. Government Department of Criminal Investigation, Bureau of Unsolved Crimes. The following reply was received: "The Bureau of Unsolved Crimes is unable to process your request due to insufficient information. When resubmitting, please include Gaia's first name and middle initial."

Someone who wants her story to be known. She knows the person(s) responsible for her death. She knows there are others who know the story, and for some reason, do not come forward. Perhaps it is fear. Perhaps they share in culpability.

I assume that there are those who wonder what happened to her. Some who miss her greatly. Some who wonder why she left without a trace. Some who wonder why she hasn't picked up her mail in a long time.

I hope she is a better person than me. If I were in her shoes I would roam the earth, tirelessly, with a single mission ... to haunt those responsible for my mysterious death for the remainder of their days. I would make their lives a constant and uncertain nightmare. But, then again, I'm petty.

Perhaps she is a lot like me, and in her quest for justice, and with her mysterious powers, is in some way partially responsible for the creation of this piece. After all, she now lives in our heads. *%* Wed Apr 24 13:52:15 EDT 1996

some dead chick *%* Tue Apr 9 14:21:28 EDT 1996

*%* Thurs Apr 11 9:46:30 EDT 1996
Dear (who are you?): No, you've made a serious mistake. These are human bones not chicken bones. If, as it appears, your tastes run to the traditional dead wings and leg stumps that make up most holiday dinners, you may want to consult the Poultry Internet Resource Hotline: http://www.oneglobe.com/agrifood/aginform/poultry/idxpltry.html

Well this one ain't granny. She hed small beady eyes, you know, and little eye holes... Maybe this was Uncle Luke who went out looking for her and never cum back *%* Mon April 1 12:30:44 EST 1996

*%* Tues Apr 2 10:15:42 EST 1996
We suspect that the author of this reply is the same West Virginian, Arkie, addressed in an earlier part of this story. No Arkie this is not your Uncle Luke's skeleton. It definitely belongs to a woman. Have you considered the possibility that Luke may have disappeared deliberately after following your now dead grandmother north and rendering her disappearance permanent? Think about it.