Welcome to Melonpatch

"You have arrived at your destination," your phone chimes from the passenger seat of your car, letting you know that your long road trip is finally over.

Just to be sure, you grab the paperwork that you'd stashed in the glove compartment and compare the address on it to the number painted on the side of the rusty mailbox next to your car. "36 Lone Pine Lane," you say to yourself as you confirm it. "Looks like I'm home..." You pull the car into the gravel driveway and up to the small farmhouse, parking right in front of the porch. Now that you were closer, you can see that the white house was in need of a new coat of paint and you sigh, wondering if inheriting this property was going to be a blessing or a curse.

When you'd gotten the letter from your Uncle Larry's lawyer, you were surprised to find out that he left you his property, especially since no one in your family had talked to him in years. Your mother's brother had always been a bit of a black sheep in the family and had spent most of his life as a long-haul trucker until he suddenly decided to buy a farm and settle down in a sleepy little town hundreds of miles from his hometown. The whole family had a chuckle when your mother had gotten a postcard from him, letting them know that he was living in Melonpatch. The name conjured up images of barefoot hillbillies brewing up moonshine and chasing off strangers with shotguns. Your uncle had never explained how or why he picked the little town for his new home, but seemed happy with his choice from the few times he'd communicated with the family.

The letter from his lawyer had been the first anyone had heard about your uncle in years and let you know that he had passed away at the age of 64, apparently from a heart attack. The letter had also said that he'd left you his Melonpatch property and all the belongings on it, contingent on the term of you living on the property for at least 60 days, to either take over his farm or to find someone local to sell it to.

You weren't sure why he chose to leave it to you, since you barely remembered him from your childhood, but the timing of his passing couldn't have been better. You'd just been let go from your job at the restaurant, after being caught in the walk-in cooler getting a blowjob from one of the waitresses, and the lease on your apartment was nearly up. It made it convenient to load up your car with your belongings and head south to find out just what your uncle had been up to for all these years.

The key to the front door is under the doormat, just like the letter said, and you have to smile at how different living here was going to be from the city, even if it was only temporary. You have no idea how to run a farm, even if it was just a small one like your uncle's, and even if you sold it for less than it was worth, you'd still be making a profit.

Letting yourself in, you see that the house is sparsely furnished, meaning that there was plenty of room for your belongings. There is a small stack of mail addressed to your uncle on the kitchen table and not too much dust around, so it looks like someone had been watching the place since Larry's . Checking the bathroom and bedroom, you can tell that someone had cleaned them recently, too. Either that or your uncle had passed away right after he went on a housecleaning spree. There wasn't much in the way of any personal photographs in the house, but you do find a framed picture in the hall. It is from a family picnic years ago and shows you, your mother and uncle all smiling. You couldn't have been more than five in the picture and it was probably the last time that you'd seen Larry.

After moving in some of the boxes from your car, you decide to take a break and check out the rest of the property. The house has a large, grassy backyard bordered by the red barn and garden at the rear of the lot. The garden isn't huge but still looks like more than you'd be able to manage by yourself. In the quiet of the country afternoon, you could also hear the clucking of chickens and muted moos of a cow coming from the barn. Curious at what sort of livestock your uncle left you, you walk over to the barn and slip inside the partially-ajar sliding door.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dimness within and the smell of fresh cut hay fills your nostrils as you stand inside the doorway. A collection of well kept tools were hanging along one wall and several animal stalls were along the other. Above you, in the darkness, you can make out the hay loft and a fairly solid looking barn roof, without any holes. Hearing a low moo coming from one of the stalls, you walk over for a peek.

Before you see the cow, the sliding door of the barn is pushed open, letting bright sunshine fill the room. You have to squint against the light as you see a figure approaching you. "Hello..?" You hope that it is whoever has been taking care of your uncle's farm since his passing, but in the back of you head, an image of Leatherface, wielding his chainsaw, pops into your mind.

It only takes a moment for you eyes to adjust again and you see...