That hillbilly in every horror movie

The road had not been paved for years. Only tourists passed through there, mostly young college students who were on a rural getaway to disconnect from the hectic pace of the city. Those who ended up in the hovel I called home were those who dared to stray a little from Donaldsonville hoping to find some adventure in a wilder nature, and boy, did they find it... poor bastards. At first I felt a little sorry for them. Seeing people in the prime of life with a terrible fate awaiting them certainly turned my stomach. But after years of watching them disregard my warnings and even mock me, any empathy I might have felt had vanished. It had been two days since a group of kids had stopped by. I remember they didn't put on a very good face when I told them that despite the  “Gas Station” sign, they couldn't fill up. As I used to do with everyone who passed by, I warned them not to go into the woods, because they would find something that wasn't meant to be found. They simply repli...