Mountain Man

Ever since I was a young boy, a young whipper snapper is what the older folks called me, living in Arkansas I would hear stories of crazy “backwood rednecks”. I never really thought they was real, I thought it was just stories that parents told their kids to scare them into not wandering off or trusting strangers. It didn't help that I lived in the city, but I do recall never wanting to go visit my grandparents who lived in the mountainous region about two hours away. Now, when I say mountains, I mean they looked like the setting of a horror movie, which is appropriate given what I experienced.
It all started when I was like five or six, we would go visit my grandparents every weekend. I enjoyed the ride into the mountains, the roads would turn from asphalt to basic rough graveled roads that had been there since probably the early eighteen hundreds. They were narrow, winding, and at times barely wide enough to accommodate a vehicle. Most of the roads were surrounded by thick forest, often nestled between six or seven foot banks on either side. Some roads actually dipped into small creeks or shallow river beds. There was this one old bridge, made of wood, that I really didn't care for. It would creak and moan when the weight of my Dad's truck would ease onto it, it had no safety rails and it cross a deep creek, it was more like a river though. As we would ease across the bridge, it seemed to get angry with the lumbering mass moving over it. The creeks, moans, and almost screams would drain out the sound of the engine.
This was usually about the time that I would start to feel uneasy, damn near petrified. I knew we had about twenty minutes until we pulled into my grandparents' drive, well it was more like a graveled road covered in weeds and other underbrush. It was inconspicuous, being hidden by the forest. Their house was about a quarter mile away from the main road. Their dogs would begin barking, the chickens would start clucking, like a natural burglar alarm. The sound of the animals was always welcoming to me. All of the animals loved me, I could spend hours playing with the dogs. Every morning I would go with my Grandpa to get eggs from the chickens. We would have a good, home cooked, country breakfast.
I remember playing in the front yard, but was warned to not stray past the chicken coups and the storage shed. I always had a strange feeling that someone was watching me, just at the edge of the woods. I couldn't quite place why it made me feel so strange, but it definitely gave me chills.
One particular night I was called in for supper, there was a summer storm moving in. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, being heralded by low rumbling thunder and small flashes of lightening. The air smelled damp and warm. There was a light breeze sweeping across the property.
I sat down to eat, thats when things started to get strange, something that I had never noticed before. My Dad and Grandpa had boarded up the windows and bolted the doors shut.
“Why did you and Grandpa put boards on the windows, and lock the doors?,” I asked my Dad..
“Don't you mind yourself with that youngin.” My Grandpa scolded. “But why? You never done that before?” I questioned.
My Dad leaned in close to me, “Listen son, the police called earlier. They said there is a dangerous animal on the loose that has been going into peoples' homes, hurting them real bad,” my Dad paused and I interrupted, “so that's why you locked the doors and covered the windows!”
“Listen here youngin, that's no way to treat you Dad.” My Dad waved my Grandpa off, “Yes son, see we have to protect you and everyone else here, just for the night.”
BAM! Suddenly a loud thud emanated from the front door, BAM! Another loud thud from the kitchen window, BAM! Yet another thud from my Grandparents' room.
By this time the rain was falling as if someone turned on a faucet, it was pelting against the tin roof and side of the house relentlessly. Lightening ripped the night apart, revealing what appeared to be a six or seven foot wolf peering into house through a split in the fortified window of the living room.
“Jim, take my twenty gauge!” My Grandpa yelped as he pulled his thirty-thirty rifle from the closet. I saw my Grandma with her four-ten at the ready, my Mom was loading a twelve gauge.
“I do tell yuns what, that sombitch tries gittin in her he gon be full of lead.” My Grandpa said excitedly.
My mom walked over to me and reassured me everything would be just fine. It was at that exact moment, we heard a loud howl, one of the living room windows break, and then something trying to force the boards off the wall from the outside. All of the adults turned and opened fire on the window, splinters of wood and dispensed shells were flying everywhere. After roughly about ten seconds of gunfire, the riddled wood planks dangled by the nails that attempted to hold them in place. We could now see outside. My Dad rushed to the window, looking out trying to see if they hit whatever it was. “Goddamn, we must have missed it.” My Dad groaned. The thunder crashed so hard that it shook the entire house, my Dad turned back to face us when two massive arms burst through the window and drug him out of the house and off into the night. “Oh my God, I think that was the Mountain Man.” my Grandma gasped.
My mom hysterically rushed outside, “Get back here you son-of-a- bitch, get the fuck back here!” She was popping off shots in the direction he disappeared, dragging my father.
The next morning we all went into town to visit the Sheriff, who oddly enough didn't seem to surprised by our reports of what happened the previous night. He took us all into his office, “I'm truly sorry for the hell you folks went through last night. Unfortunately, this Mountain Man, you say attacked yall last night doesn't exist. He is a local legend.” the Sheriff explained. “Listen here goddamn it! We know what the hell we sure enough seen las night. Tall sombitch wearing the skin of a damn wolf, he was so damn strong he pulled my son-in-law, who I might add is a big man, right through my living room window. Even left claw marks around the frame.” My Grandpa shouted in a very furious tone.
The Sheriff must have felt some kind of obligation to help, he drove out to my Grandparents' place.
When he arrived he stepped out of his car, adjusted his belt and took a dip of snuff. He lazily walked to the window that was broken the night before, “Shit, this wasn't a man. Looks like a big goddamn bear tried to make his own front door.” “Quit it with the damn jokes. Arn't you gon help us or not?”my Grandpa asked.
The sun was already setting, it was almost completely hidden by the hills, only small orange rays was left. The sky looked like a massive bonfire. I went inside to get a drink of water, that's when I heard the growls and the screams. Horrified, I walked to the living room window. My mom's torso was tossed inside the house, blood splattering across my face as it hit the floor. She struggled for air, she made an awful gurgling sound as she tried to speak, “RUN!” she said in a strangled whisper. I heard my Grandparents make the same strangled, gurgling sounds while attempting to scream for help.
I did as my mom told me, I ran like a goddamn mad man. I couldn't run very fast through the thick underbrush, constantly tripping on exposed roots, getting caught in thorn bushes. I was bleeding pretty bad, I fell down a steep hill. I thought I landed in a mud hole, the ground was mushy but smelled something foul.
Lightening flashed in the distance and thunder rolled through the forest as another summer storm moved in. The rain began to fall suddenly, I wished it hadn't. Along with the rain came the lightening, allowing me to see where I was. I screamed, I was not in a mud hole at all. It was some kind of killing ground, corpses of humans and animals littered the ground. Thick, gelatin like blood held it all together like some kind of sick fruity Jello desert. Then I saw my Dad, it was like he had been eaten. His flesh torn apart like a meat grinder would do.
Lightening flashed and I saw the large shadow of the creature behind me. I turned in a slow, cautious attempt at hopefully not seeing the thing behind me. “Shit!” I screamed as I looked upon the killer. It was about seven feet tall, very little hair, except around its face. It wore a very thick, blood soaked beard. The creature let out a low, guttural howl, then mimicked my Grandpa's voice. “It's okay youngin, I will make it painless for you.”
Suddenly lightening struck a tree, part of the tree fell to the ground burning with a ferocious intensity that the creature obviously hated because it took off into the night.