Snagar, a Halloween Story

WC 2382

Snagar, A Halloween Story

I don’t suppose many of you have heard of them. They were bred by the Empire (Union of Imperial States) for the purpose of hunting elves. There was a wizard, Pixzapoe, working for them at the time who was good at that sort of thing….By “that” I mean mixing the parts of living things together to form something new. He was the one who came up with the Snagar. Many say he crossed the line in creating these creatures because in addition to the genetic code of other more common genomes, he mixed in some Elf.

The Snagar appear frequently in fantasy and legend, and most believe they never really existed or they soon became extinct. This is simply not true. They are nocturnal and survive by keeping a low profile but they have a blood lust for elves and of course any human who is of Elfin descent, however remotely connected. So if you ever see a girl or a guy that looks like an elf it is probably because they have elf blood. Just be glad you don’t because the Snagar are always sniffing about and will sometimes wait years, until the time is right to swoop in for the kill.

My friends in High school used to joke about my appearance and call me “Gelfling.” My sister looked a lot like me but of course she's a female and there are those obvious differences. For her the term was less offensive because its one thing for a girl to look like an elf and another for a guy. For a boy it's a label that carries the connotation of “fairy” which implies that maybe the old masculinity gene isn’t quite hitting on all cylinders. In my case this is totally false, however, I can’t change my mannerisms and appearance. I’m what I am and find myself drawn to pretty girls just like any other normal red blooded male.

This brings us to the red-blooded part because I know without doubt that my hemoglobin is tainted….You guessed it; by elf blood…Somewhere, up my family tree there was a marriage or less sanctioned form of co-mingling that took place. JRR Tolkein mentions unions between men and elves and I'm certain there were cases of this in the olden days. The reason I'm so sure is because I've actually seen the Snagar; not dreamed them mind you, but stared into those, leering, vacuous eyes and felt their breath hot upon my face. Now I know there are skeptics out there who pooh-pooh what I’m saying, claiming I’m a some kind of psycho trying to cover my butt….so you can believe or disbelieve, makes no difference to me. But nothing you can think or say will explain away the terrible truth I've witnessed.

We live on a farm in Central Wisconsin. My mother, who I think is the source of the family curse, is terrified of the dark and as children, never let us play outside at night. She was the one who passed down stories of the Snagar that she claimed were told to her by Grandma. The reason they moved up here, the story goes, was to escape Georgia and the predatations of the Snagar. She showed me a picture of one, in her family bible and while crudely drawn, looked a whole lot like a man sized bat.

As my sister and I grew older it became more difficult for Mom to enforce her will when my father said she was being overly protective. “What could happen in these placid and rolling hills?” he would often tease. My sister Martha is a year older and when she started dating, her boyfriend took her to a secluded spot so they could get better acquainted. His name was Mark and we didn’t get along. He was one of those who made fun of me and knew I didn’t like him dating my sister. We got in a fight one day after school. It was a “guy” thing that happens all the time around here, almost a right of passage, but later the Sheriff blew our fisticuffs way out of proportion. My sister told me to back off and I did. Anyway it was on one of their dates that the Snagar must have picked up her scent. It’s said they can smell an elf from miles off and I guess that’s what happened.

Anyway they were parked on this quiet logging trail down by the river. It was a fall evening and the temperature had dropped to freezing. The windows were rolled up but earlier they had been for a walk. Returning to the car they started talking when they heard some slurping sounds from outside. Then there was some bumping along the rocker panels of the doors. Mark reached up and wiped some of the fog off the windshield and couldn’t see anything outside so he started to roll down the window. Martha screamed “NO” and he paused. But still the sounds persisted until there came a thud, like something had landed on the roof.

Martha told the investigators that Mark thought some of their friends were playing a little joke and threw the door open to catch a glimpse of where the commotion was coming from. He leapt out and slammed it shut. At that moment there was a scream and what felt like a body being slammed up against the passenger side and then absolute silence. My sister got on the cell phone and called 911. She was hysterical and before long a deputy was on the line. He told her to lock the doors… that help was on the way. Then she heard some scratching outside as something started tugging on one door after another as if trying to get one to open. After some more time passed she heard grunting and rooting over by the driver's side. Crawling over the counsel, she tried to see past the steering wheel. It was a dark moonless night and she couldn’t really make out anything. Returning to her seat she heard a siren in the distance and with a napkin, rubbed the condensation off her window. As she did there appeared the visage of Mark’s lifeless face. His jaw hung slack, his eyes were vacant and something was holding him up by the hair. She began shrieking in terror. That was how the deputies found her, hysterical and sobbing uncontrollably. Next to her door they found Marks decapitated head and on the drivers side, the rest of his body.

Needless to say this murder became a crime sensation. A flood of investigators were soon on the scene and before long the FBI showed up. They combed the area for more evidence but found absolutely nothing… Who the perpetrator was, left no further sign and all there was to go on was Mark’s severed head and torso. Martha was disconsolate and it was three days before the sedation wore off to where she could be questioned.

As is normal, I suppose in such cases, when the truth of what really happened isn’t totally self evident… the police have to really stretch to find someone to blame. Some wild theories started to circulate. One of these was that I was the killer. I had gone fishing that night alone and didn’t return until the next morning. When the sheriff discovered my altercation with Mark, I became a suspect. For the next three days I was grilled by the authorities and only the intervention of my father and the family lawyer got me released. When I got home Mom and Martha were packing and getting ready to head off to parts unknown.

“Why?” I asked.

“The Snagar,“ Mom answered. “They’ve found us and it’s time we get the heck out of Dodge. Pack you bag and throw it in the car….We waited hoping you'd join us but whatever you decide, Martha and I are skeddaddling out of here.”

My father was dismayed…. But my mother was adamant and my sister believed everything Mom was telling her.

“I can’t leave Dad, alone,” I protested.

“Suit yourself,” she replied and they went out to the car, fired the engine and sped off down the road.

My father just shook his head in disbelief. “I guess I should count my blessings and be glad for the years she gave me.“ he lamented.

That night the dogs set up a howl and thinking it was a weasel, Dad and I went out to the chicken coup. I followed from behind with the .45 and suddenly heard a noise from the barn. While he was in the coup I cautiously approached the sliding door . As I reached in, “BANGO!“ a claw grabbed my forearm. I smelt the stink of a wild and unwashed body as it dragged me inside and tried to throw a slimy wing over my head. Eyes like red hot coals leered out from dark sockets. With my free hand I raised the pistol. “Bang! Bang!” I fired twice, before it jammed. The creature screeched and in the pale light I saw the shadow of its mishapen form flapping down the stairs into the basement. Dad came racing up. We retreated back into the house as I told him what had happened. There were deep scratches on my wrist and my sweatshirt was covered in blood. After dressing the wounds Dad took the sweat shirt and laid it on the kitchen table. We sat and talked afterwards as I tried to calm myself down.

“What grabbed you?" he asked

“It was a Snagar," I replied.

“Was that what screamed when I heard the shots?"

“It squalled all right.. when I fired point blank into his body…”

“So I heard. How do you know it was a Snagar?”

“I saw it Dad, in the moon light... it tried to drag me inside…I’m not making up these claw marks.”

“No one’s saying you are, “ he answered.

“Nobody’s going to believe us.“

“Can’t say as I blame them….I never really believed all that fanciful stuff your mother used to say, but maybe I should have paid more attention. You go to bed now and we‘ll talk more in the morning.”

When I woke up there was a note on the kitchen table.

Son,

I’ve decided to get to the bottom of this. If the story of the Snagar is true they’ll be drawn by the scent of your blood. I ‘m putting on your sweat shirt and intend to take a spot light and camera, go to the deer stand and see what develops. I’ll see you in the morning.

Dad

It was after sunrise when I found the note and no sign of Pa. I took my hunting rifle and headed for the deer stand. There was nothing that could have prepared me for what awaited. There was Dad’s body laying on the ground, his head ripped off and my sweatshirt laying in the briar patch. I grabbed the camera off the ground and high-tailed it back through the woods. When I got home I stashed it in the barn and raced into the house. From there I called the Sheriff and in short order the whole farm was swarming with law enforcement officers. I took them to where Dad’s body was laying and they started giving me these strange looks, like II was once again the prime suspect. For the rest of the day they combed the area collecting evidence. They seemed particularly interested in the sweat shirt and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. I was certain that when they connected my blood with the stains, I’d be taken into custody and this time they'd lock me under the jail.

I figured I had at best a day before the lab results came back and decided I’d better use the time to prove my innocence. I'd been hesitant to tell the sheriff about the game camera, knowing he would think I was crazy if nothing showed up on the film. So after the sheriff and all the investigators left I went out to the barn and checked it out. What appeared, in one of the frames, sent a chill down my spine. It was a huge bat looking creature, with a rat like face.... like the one that grabbed me in the barn. It was crawling up the ladder, trying to get into the tree stand, as my father shined it with a spotlight. He should had just blasted it but decided instead to take the picture. This was the proof I needed and at the same time my blood began to boil… It made me mad, thinking about what this damned creature fhad done to my father; So I took my rifle and went back out to the stand and called 911 on my cell phone. It was dark when I finally got through to the Sheriff and told him what I was planning and where to find the photo. Then I settled down and waited.

It wasn‘t long before I heard wings flapping and thought at first it was a bunch of turkeys. Then came those slurping and sloughing noises, one after another and a long chorus of flapping wings. At length I shined one of the sources. To my dismay there was not one but a whole flock of the Snagar gathering beneath the tree. They began jumping about excitedly as they caught my scent. Taking my rifle I began firing down as they scurried out of harms way and flew up... roosting in the surrounding trees. I blazed away until my magazine ran out. Then the light went flying and a claw closed around my neck...

Epilogue

Adams County Herald, Oct 31, 2011

This morning two more, in a bizarre series of killings shook the community. The bodies of Rufus Jackson and his son, Horace, were discovered on their rural farm off County Road M. Horace, considered a suspect in the earlier death of Mark Haskins, was finally identified from dental records after sifting the scattered remains. Despite a camera being found near the scene there was no evidence of who the perpertrator might be. Anyone having information pertaining to this investigation please contact the Adams County Sheriff's department.