The Daily Fulton
April 7, 2019
“The Dun Maylock: Judges, Juries, and Executioners”
From the archives. Contributor: Spence Hutchins, Curator of the Fulton Hills Historical Society. Republished with written permission from C.W.H.
By C.W.H.
Fulton County’s history is soaked in blood. And much of that blood, dear readers, can be traced back to one enigmatic group: the Dun Maylock, a name that strikes fear into the hearts of the superstitious and the skeptical alike. But who were—or are—the Dun Maylock? What did they truly want? And, most importantly, why do I believe they’re still out there?
Let’s dive into what we know, what we think we know, and what those who want to control the narrative would rather you forget.
A Legacy of Chaos
From the late 1700s to the early 1900s, the Dun Maylock carved a bloody path through Fulton County, claiming over 200 victims in Fulton Hills alone. Their infamous calling card—a bloody handprint left on doors, barns, and even town halls—announced their presence with chilling clarity.
Their victims were as varied as their methods:
- Prominent Figures: Politicians, wealthy landowners, and business moguls who, according to whispers, often exploited their power for personal gain.
- Common Folk: Farmers, shopkeepers, and even children, whose deaths seem to defy any discernible logic.
- Good Samaritans: Philanthropists like Thomas Cooley, whose only crime appeared to be helping the community thrive.
Why such a wide net? The mainstream narrative says randomness, but I call it control. The Dun Maylock wanted everyone, from the highest tower to the humblest hovel, to know that no one was safe from their judgment. They saw themselves as the ultimate authority—deciding who deserved to live, who deserved to die, and who deserved to suffer.
The Pranks: Mischief or Messages?
Those who dismiss the Dun Maylock as mere criminals often point to their bizarre pranks as proof of a less sinister motive. Horses in the mayor’s office? A library rearranged to spell cryptic phrases? These were seen as the work of anarchic jesters, not cold-blooded killers.
But think deeper, folks. These pranks weren’t random—they were statements. The horses humiliated a corrupt mayor, the library books delivered a message (“You Will Know Us”), and the haystack pyramid in Nudha was a mockery of wealth and labor. They weren’t just sowing chaos—they were redefining power, tearing down the structures society relied upon and saying, “Only we decide the rules.”
Power, Control, and Anarchy
The Dun Maylock’s ultimate goal wasn’t justice or vengeance—it was control. By targeting both the corrupt and the virtuous, they made it clear that no moral code was safe from their scrutiny.
- Politicians weren’t untouchable.
- Philanthropists couldn’t buy their way out.
- The common folk couldn’t hide behind their simplicity.
The message was clear: You live or die by our rules.
It’s no coincidence that their reign coincided with a time of upheaval in Fulton County. Industrial growth, cultural clashes, and social divides were at their peak. The Dun Maylock thrived in this chaos, using it to sow fear and ensure that their shadow loomed larger than any institution.
Where Are They Now?
Here’s where the official story ends: The Dun Maylock faded away, their bloody handprints smudged into history by time. But I don’t buy it, and neither should you. Groups like this don’t disappear—they evolve.
Think about it: In a world where information is currency and control is no longer physical but digital, wouldn’t the Dun Maylock thrive even more? Why leave handprints on doors when you can hack into bank accounts, medical records, or city infrastructure? Why burn down mills when you can shut down power grids with a few keystrokes?
There’s a reason Fulton County still whispers their name. It’s because we know, deep down, they never left. Every unsolved cyberattack, every mysterious disappearance, every system outage that’s dismissed as “technical difficulties”—all of it could be their work.
The Digital Handprint
The bloody handprint is more than a symbol; it’s a statement of dominance. Today, their mark may not be literal, but it’s still out there. You just have to know where to look.
So I ask you, dear reader: Is the next power outage just bad luck, or is it the Dun Maylock reminding us that they still decide who controls what? When your bank account glitches or your phone acts up, is it truly a coincidence?
Stay vigilant, Fulton County. They may no longer leave their mark in blood, but make no mistake—the Dun Maylock still casts a shadow over us all.
And I, for one, refuse to stop shining a light on them.
- C.W.H.
Seeker of Truth, Bearer of Light