The Creek Chp 1?

“There’s all types of spirits in this world,
Some is here to guide us, somes lost and
Don’t know they is dead yet, some jus’
Don’t want to go to their final place yet.
But what roams dat creek, dat is pure evil,
A dark dark evil dat aims to take souls
To hell with it…”
Lester Gainer


Alabama, October 1, 1914

         JT sat in the darkness, enjoying the sounds of the night.  Crickets singing, bullfrogs croaking, the occasional owl hooting in the distance.  Of course the low steady bark of his hound, Ol’ Blue, made the night music perfect.  Three big ‘coons already tonight and Ol’ Blue was working the trail of number four.  That meant more meat in the freezer and an extra hide to sell. 

         JT made the best of life.  Fishing during the warm months gave him food and he sold the rest for some pocket money.  Trapping and coon hunting provided the meat and money during the cold months.  It never bothered him that he was 38 years old and had never married, or for that matter dated much.  All that got in the way of his being outside.

         Tonight was a very good night, soon there would be four large coons in his pack and he had only been in the woods for about two hours.  He couldn’t imagine why so many folks let old wives tales about Blackfoot Creek keep them away from such good hunting.  In 38 years he had never seen a ghost or haint, and was pretty sure there were none with him tonight.  Despite what old man Gainer was telling everyone in town about this place, to JT it was a perfect tonight. 

         A chill ran down JT’s back all at once, something was out of place in his perfect night.  JT sat up and listened closely, but there was nothing to listen to.  Everything had gone silent: no bullfrogs, crickets, nothing.  JT quickly jumped to his feet and fumbled with the matches in his pocket, finally managing to light his carbide lamp and chase back some of the darkness.  “Talk to ‘um Blue!!” JT shouted trying to make sense of what was going on.  O’ Blue never stopped on the trail like this, and he had never heard the woods drop to stone cold silence on an October night.  JT cautiously started walking in the direction of Blue's last sounds.  He heard the commotion out in front of him, then Blue started barking, not the long drawn out bark of a hound running, but a quick angry chopping bark.  “ What you done got into dog,” he mumbled as he moved toward the sounds.  The barking was cut short by a loud snapping noise and a loud whimper.  “Blue! Here Blue! Talk to me boy!”  JT quickened his pace, he’d kill someone for messing with his dog, that was how he made a living, and Ol’ Blue was his best friend to boot.

         JT Froze in his tracks, something moved ahead of him, just at the edge of his lamp's reach.  He blinked his eyes and looked again.  Whatever it was ran on two feet and was solid white.  Anything running on two feet like that was human, it had hurt his dog.  “Come back here and face me, no ones gonna hurt my dog and then run off like a coward!”  The words barely left JT mouth when a blood-chilling cry tore through the woods.  JT swore it sounded like a woman in mortal fear for her life.  “What in the world is going on…” he mumbled as he slowly took another step.  Something rolled under his boot.  Looking down JT found Blue’s collar, or at least part of it laying on the ground, but no Blue or any sign of him.

         JT’s blood ran cold for a second time in one night, he knew he was not alone, he knew something was close by.  He slowly reached down and pulled his pistol out and set his thumb on the hammer.  There was movement behind him.  Then that horrid scream ripped through the night once again.

         When JT didn’t show up for coffee at Val’s Diner the next morning, several of the regulars got concerned.  JT never missed coffee, and the chance to share some tall tales about his hunt or recent fishing expedition.  When JT hadn’t come in by nine am, several of the men there went looking for him.  The search was called off close to dark that afternoon, still no JT.  The only sign anyone found was his carbide lamp and his pistol lying on the ground, hammer pulled halfway back.