Mountain Ghost Cows

Mountain Ghost Cows

The fire crackled, I leaned forward and opened my eyes wide to put the proper ending on the horrible tale... “and that’s”, pause, look around at the terrified people around the campfire. One, two, three, “The Story of the Mountain Ghost Cows.” I was pleased with how I drew the ending out, all scary like. Just like Russell had done.

There was a brief silence. Then, Larry, my little brother, had to put in his two cents worth.

“There’s no way that’s a true story,” Larry guffawed, falling out of his chair and practically rolling into the fire pit.

“You’re such a typical little brat! You never believe anything I say, and it is true! Russell told me at school when he found out where we were going camping. You saw all of those fiberglass cow statues in front of the cheese factory. I begged Mom and Dad not to stop there. We couldn't just drive past. Oh no! We had to get cheese. You know what that means. That’s the key to the whole story. Russell told me all about it. I told you right then, we were in serious trouble.” I turned, pleading to my mother, “Mom! You tell him. Russell wouldn't lie.”

“Now Larry, you know Russell would never lie to your sister. After all, he’s way too smitten with her to want her scared in the middle of these haunted hills when he’s not here to protect her,” she smiled and winked at me when she passed the tray with s’mores fixin’s around again.

“Mom! I can’t believe you said that!” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. It was bad enough that I had to come on this stupid family camping trip. Now, she’s telling everyone that Russell is 'smitten with me', oh good grief! I stomped away from the fire, heading toward my tent.

I know Russell wouldn't make up such a story. He’s gorgeous, but let’s face it, he’s not that creative. It just had to be true.

I unzipped my tent flap, crawled in, and plopped down on my sleeping bag. There had to be away to prove to my bratty, little brother, that Russell didn't make up a hokey ghost story. Shows what Larry knows, it wasn't even about ghosts. It was about cows, mountain cows for pity’s sake.

I laid down, and started plotting out my plan, as the crickets chirped, the fire crackled and nature’s lullaby gently lulled me to sleep.



The gross sounds of Larry chewing penetrated my peaceful slumber. “Gees Larry, you don’t have to eat so loudly. It’s bad enough we have to share this stupid tent.” I rolled over and threw my pillow over at him.

Maaaaaa, came from over in that the direction.

“Larry, shut up already! You’d wake the dead at this rate.”

Maaaaaa, even louder, even closer. I realized that it wasn’t even inside the tent. My eyes popped wide open. I sat straight up, thinking that the brat was outside of the tent trying to scare me. I grabbed my flashlight and threw the spotlight on my soundly sleeping brother snuggling and slobbering on my pillow. Ewww!

Maaaaaa, followed by footsteps, gulp I whimpered, heavy footsteps, gulp. Oh no, it was the Mountain Ghost Cows. They were here, just like Russell said!

I flew out of my sleeping bag, grabbing Larry, shaking him profusely. “Wake up, Larry, dang it, Larry, wake up, I frantically whispered. I couldn't let the Mountain Ghost Cows get my little brother.

I thought about that a second or two; well maybe I should shove him out of the tent first. While the Mountain Ghost Cows were getting him, I’d have time to get away. That could work. “Larry, Larry! Get up!”

“What, it can’t be time to get up.” Larry rolled over, and snuggled down with my pillow.

“Larry, listen.” I was frantic.

“Leave me alone,” he swatted at me like I was a fly and burrowed deeper down in his sleeping bag.

“It’s the cows, Larry, it’s the cows. They’re outside the tent.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sniffed, “tell them to wait until the sun comes up. Go back to bed, Lindsey.”

Maaaaaa, smack, smack, smack.

“Can’t you hear them?” My voice was starting to shake. This was not my idea of a fun weekend. Why didn’t I ask to spend the weekend at Donna’s?

I cowered back on my sleeping bag, surely Mom and Dad heard all of the racket those Mountain Ghost Cows were making. Mom and Dad will get rid of them. I shivered and waited. Nothing happened. I counted to ten, really slowly. No zip of the zipper of their tent opening. No, ‘Shoo, go on home, you bad Mountain Ghost Cows’, just maaaaaa, smack, smack, stomp, stomp.

I decided that it was going to be up to me. I, the eldest female child was going to be sacrificed. I sighed. For the good of the family; I was going to have to save us all from these monster cows.

I slipped on my shoes, and then quietly crawled to the tent door. I grasped the zipper and looked back at my sleeping brother. “Man, I can’t believe you’re not even going to help.” I rolled my eyes and slapped my forehead. Oh wait, it’s Larry, he never does anything but scratch, burp and fart. I took a deep breath and sighed.

Slowly I pulled the zipper down, as silently as humanly possible, until it got stuck about half way down. But that wasn’t the real problem. The two huge nostrils that puffed right in my face, that was the real problem! Ewwwww! Then the whole nose and an oozing, drooling mouth pushed its way into the tent. Right in my face! “Stinky breath, someone needs an Altoids, or maybe the whole tin.”

I had to get away. So, I crab walked myself as far away from the Mountain Ghost Cow as I could. Larry was somewhere under me shoving me back toward the smelly beast. I couldn't believe that little brat was setting me up, shoving me toward the thing that would turn me into a cow.

I whimpered as the dripping mouth and nose pushed further in the tent. Glowing eyes stared at me with long curly eyelashes and its foot stomped trying to come inside the tent.

Maaaaaa, smack, smack, stomp, stomp, stomp.

Thank goodness the zipper got stuck. But with those big hooves, it wouldn't take much to tear through the material of the tent.

Stomp, stomp, smack, smack. Maaaaaa

Oh no, another Mountain Ghost Cow was getting closer. It was behind the tent. A cow shape head pressed into the back of the tent, nudging Larry into me. We grabbed hold of each other.

Larry cried, “They must have already turned Mom and Dad, and now they’re coming to get us!”

He was so terrified, he was reduced to whimpering and drooling on my pillow. The Mountain Ghost Cow in the front of the tent was drooling on my sleeping bag and still trying to get the rest of the way in the tent. So not fair, why couldn't he drool on Larry’s sleeping bag? Wasn’t it bad enough it was going to turn me into a cow?

Maaaaaa, smack, smack, smack.

I was a goner, resigned to my fate. Huge glowing eyes mesmerized me. I couldn’t move forward. The Mountain Ghost Cow blocked my way. I couldn’t move back further, Larry kept pushing me toward the cow. I might as well get it over with.

Random thoughts flashed in my head as I reluctantly crawled toward the Mountain Ghost Cow.

         Would I have long eyelashes like that when I was a Mountain Ghost Cow?

         Mom had just bought me new bras, now I wasn’t going to get to wear them.

         I’d have udders and teats. Yuck, I’d have people grabbing my teats and shoving them in those milking machines, twice a day.

My whole body convulsed.

I started whimpering. I didn’t want to be a cow, a heifer. A bovine, with seven stomachs, chewing my cud, this cow was here to change me. Gee, some people get bit by vampires and live forever, me, I get changed into a stupid cow.



+++++++++++++



“Clarabelle! Clarabelle!”

Larry grabbed me around the neck, squeezing so tightly; I thought my eyes were about to pop out of my head. “You didn’t say anything about men ghost!” He screamed in my ear.

“Clarabelle! There you are!”

The Mountain Ghost Cow slowly began to back out of our tent.

“Elsie, why did you follow Clarabelle? Come on ladies, the sun is coming up, almost time for milking. Let's get y'all home.”

Larry and I moved as one, toward the tent opening that the cow had just vacated. “Mister, you better get away, those are vicious Mountain Ghost Cows. They’ll turn you into a cow.” I thought about that, “Well, maybe they’d turn you into a steer? Or a bull?” I looked at Larry quizzically. He shrugged his shoulders.

“What Clarabelle and Elsie? Heavens kids, these are dairy cows. They live on a mountain, I guess that would make them mountain cows, but they ain’t ghosts. They’re real, live cows.” He popped them on their hind quarters and all three of them started walking away.

Then Larry proceeded to shove me right out of the tent, head first. “I told you!” he uproariously laughed and laughed.

I just fumed.



Just you wait, Russell!