10/3/15
It’s been six months since my ordeal, yet the memory has not dimmed even slightly. Such tribulation must surely entail lifelong consequence. My therapist attributes this pattern of stilted speech and affectation of erudition presently bedeviling me to the psychological trauma experienced. I hope they resolve soon; I wish to assay a return to gainful employment. But my employer requests I delay such attempt until I first gain ascendancy over these present mannerisms as they are unnerving to both co-worker and client alike. Alas, to date the aftereffects have not diminished despite the ministrations of many physicians.
Resigning myself to continuing convalescence, I take my wonted seat upon the front porch and gaze toward the woodlands across the way. My thoughts reach back to the inception of said calamitous visitation.
I had finally attained the outdoors for some needed fresh air and sunshine. The first cool days of autumn gave me leave to escape the interiors in which I’d been chambered. An unusually scorching summer had meant an unbroken cycle of running from an air conditioned house to an air conditioned car to get to an air conditioned workplace, then back again. Hence to finally have a day in which it was not only possible but even pleasant to be outside was an opportunity for relishment.
I judged there to be plenty of daylight left, and an evening stroll through yonder woods would be a perfect cure for my cabin fever. The air was refreshing since the rains which ushered in the cold front had settled the dust and humidity. Each cool lungful exhaled layer upon layer of accumulated tension and stress. In mere minutes I was feeling invigorated.
I meandered at a leisurely pace since this perambulation was meant for relaxation rather than fitness training. Every bird chirp and twig snap drew my attention in hopes of espying whatever small creature may have produced the sound. The leaves hadn’t yet begun to change colors. It was, after all, just the beginning of cooler weather and shorter days. But I anticipated returning frequently to soon enjoy a spectacular color palette as well.
The trail passed close to a small stream and I stopped on the bank to attend for a while the ongoing melodic mellifluousness of the sparkling rivulet. The sights, sounds, and fragrances of this tranquil alcove were near perfection. The only thing out of place, and which jarred the sensibilities, was a large sign on the opposing bank which declared, “Private Property, No Trespassing.”
The notice had been placed specifically at that spot and facing the nature trail because yon landowner knew the temptation alluring hikers to remove their shoes and splash back and forth across the stream. The property on the nether shore was held by old Hermit Jones, as everyone secretly called him.
He had never been a friendly man; not even in his younger years when he had a wife to temper his inclinations. But he had grown downright unpleasant after she died in prison. He’d never accepted that she brought her troubles on herself, so he instead blamed the world for his loss.
I turned to continue my trek and had not gone far when a gleam of white caught my eye. A ray of sunlight piercing the foliage was illuminating some object on the ground, and its relative brightness caused it to stand out from the deep hues surrounding it. I left the trail and went for a closer look.
Projecting from the loam were the ends of several bones. I surmised that the recent rains had washed away what dirt and leaves had covered them prior to now. I nudged the bones with my shoe and they popped free, and uprooted several more in the process. I was shocked at first and took a step back. But then curiosity overcame me and I went forward again and knelt down to inspect them. Not being a biologist I held no thought of identifying their species. But I was able to recognize they were far too outsized to be from a small woodland creature.
A shiver ran up my spine as I recalled the news accounts from last spring of a college girl who had disappeared while on a camping trip. I quickly dismissed the idea, however. Those campgrounds were miles away from this part of the woods. Surely these were only from some animal. Perhaps a deer or a large dog. But there would need to be a skull present for me to guess more precisely.
I heard a rustle in the bushes close behind me, then a couple of quick footsteps. Before I could straighten up and turn I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head and everything went black. How long I was out, I cannot guess. Only later did I recover a few fragments of memory with vague sensations of being picked up and jostled, then borne to the depths of Hades.
I regained consciousness with the feeling of someone repeatedly slapping my face. My first waking thought was of intense pain in my shoulders and numbness in my hands. I was tied and suspended by my arms with my feet barely touching the floor. I struggled for breath and had to push my feet down and raise up on tiptoes just to inhale deeply.
I opened my eyes but saw no more than a glaring light. Was this the tunnel of death upon me?! I clenched them shut again and turned my head. A moment later the red glow coming through my eyelids diminished and I knew the light had withdrawn. I chanced a peek.
A nasal voice with a pronounced country inflection spoke. “You came lookin’ fer that girl, didn’ ya?”
I focused on the figure before me and saw a repulsive face leering back. The thin hair was oily and disheveled. The eyes, the eyes had a glint of demonic amusement. Their aspect was such that I gasped in fear of whatever bizarre schemes might lay behind them. He wore no shirt or shoes. His only clothing was a dirty denim coverall. I would have had difficulty guessing his age if I didn’t already know Hermit Jones to be in his late forties.
He raised his arm as if to slap me again, so I answered. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”
“That girl! You know the one I’m talkin’ about.”
“No. I was just out for a walk. I wasn’t with any girls.”
He humphed, then turned to walk across the room.
I strained to take in my surroundings. It seemed to be a one room cabin, but having only a dirt floor I wondered if it might be a shed instead. Even if it were merely an outbuilding for a larger house, it seemed to be set up to live in. A small bed covered with a brownish-red blanket occupied one corner. In the center of the room was a rough-hewn wooden table and two ladder-back chairs. Set in the center of the table was a somewhat round, white object which I couldn’t recognize. But it held my attention as it reminded me of the glint of white I’d seen in the woods.
The difficulty of breathing as well as the throbbing pain throughout my body made my mind lapse into delirium. The lingering mental image of the round white object then rose up and began turning in midair. It was joined by images of the bones I’d found earlier and they united together into a large ball. The ball of bones began shifting until its shape resolved into the likeness of a large canine skull. It faced me, and the holes where the eyes should be narrowed as they regarded me. The muzzle twisted into a grin, then the jaws slowly opened as the floating wolf-head apparition moved toward me.
I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. But rather than being crushing like a bite, it was intensely hot. My nerves blazed as if touched by an electric wire and I shrieked. I tried to open my eyes but they were immediately filled with smoke. My nose clenched against the nauseating odor of burning flesh. I blinked away the tears and forced my eyes to open. The leering man was pulling away a glowing red fireplace poker which was still smoking with the pieces of skin clinging to it.
“Wakey, wakey. I didn’t say you could take a nap.” He laughed as he returned he poker to the hearth. He stayed squatting there a few moments and prodded the fire. Atop the coals and chunks of log there seemed to be a bundle of clothing. What hadn’t burned yet was of a deep green color, similar to what one sees in uniforms. It didn’t match anything the hermit seemed likely to wear. But I didn’t have time to consider it longer. He was coming back toward me.
“Well, if you don’t know nothin’, then why were you snoopin’ around my property? Tell me that.”
“I wasn’t on your property,” I answered. “I was on the nature trail, on the public side of the stream.”
Once he recognized I was familiar enough with the area to know the boundaries, he left that point and returned to the first.
“Well, you was still snoopin’. What were you doing pickin’ at them bones?”
“They were right by the path. Besides, it was just some animal. What’s wrong with looking at that?”
“You were snoopin’! Yer just like that fella that came around yesterday. Well he learned sure enough not to pry into other people’s business.”
He looked toward the wall and jutted his chin out as he spoke. I followed his gaze. Hanging from a nail, below a small set of deer antlers glinted a silver piece of metal shaped like a five-pointed star. I squeezed my eyes shut against the dawning comprehension.
“Ah, ha,” he said. “Yer startin’ to figure it out, aren’t ya? So you see, even if you weren’t snoopin’, there ain’t no way I can let you go now. Right? Right?”
I couldn’t look at him. I had to avoid the horror lurking in the ghastly luster of those evil-filled eyes. Revulsion chilled my heart. I must find some way to escape. Alas, I quickly despaired of how. My legs were numb and my arms no longer had feeling. Even my mind was beginning to forsake me as it grew hazy again. I feared if awareness left me now, it’d never return. Not in this world anyway.
The next thing I knew there was a blinding flash of intense white light and a deafening blast from an explosion. I was stunned for several moments. When my vision finally resolved I saw the room was filled with smoke, the front door was hanging at an angle and nearly broken in half, and the hermit was laying supine on the floor moaning. His hands groped around him as he struggled to regain his senses.
Just then five or six men rushed through the doorway dressed in dark green and holding various firearms. Three descended on the hermit while two came at me. I managed to smile at them and utter, “Thank God,” before I passed out.
When at last I came to, I was in a hospital bed being tended by a nurse while two policemen watched from the door. Once the nurse left I had a long talk with the officers and related all that had happened. Evidently the detectives and the doctors were satisfied because the next day I was released to go home.
Once in my familiar surroundings I walked through every room in the house. I stood for several minutes in each; touching the walls, savoring the assortment of odors, absorbing the myriad minute vibrations which convey a home’s spirit. I can’t explain the reason why I did so, other than it was an impelling need. At length I felt I was truly safe at home again. Then, flushed with the small victory over the indoors, I ventured to the front porch and sat on the bench.
The air was still cool and fresh. The woods in the distance again strove to entice me to walk. But no, I’ll not venture beyond this stoop for the time being. My porch is quite pleasant enough, thank you.
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