Rabid possums, white fences, and the darkness.

Not going to do the other Skinwalker or Sin-eater story just yet. I’ve got to think about it some. I’ve never told either story, out loud, or otherwise. I really don’t know if I even want to. I do have another boogeyman tale from closer to my home though. 

This happened two summers ago.

It was late, like closer to dawn than midnight late, and I was sitting in my old Ford F-150, parked on John’s Creek Rd. I was star gazing, which is a metaphor for fooling around in the woods after dark, necking. I don’t care how old you are if you can’t enjoy some good quality after dark necking on a back road then your life has taken a disastrous turn for the worse. We had been out there for quite awhile, nobody had been by on the main road which was a few hundred yards away and it was nice and quiet. It was peaceful. There really was some good star gazing that night. The sky was clear and the moon was new, non-existent. The conversation had been a little heavy but nothing unusual. It was good. I felt nice and content for the most part. It was a lovely night.

Then all hell broke loose.

So picture this, I’ve got my weary head lying in a warm lap, I’m talking about metaphysics or maybe how much it sucks that my windows refuse to roll down. Same thing, really. I’ve got one skinny leg draped over the steering wheel and the other is propped against the stubborn window. She’s got her hand on my cheek, finger tips down around my chin and thumb resting comfortably against my ear. It was about as close to perfect as you could get while being cooped up in the cab of an old red pickup truck. There was a moment of comfortable silence and just about the time I was going to say something I’m sure would have been an existential masterpiece I hear a scratch down the outside of her door. Here is my rundown of the thoughts that flashed through my mind, “What the shit was that? Is there a deer out there? No it couldn’t be a deer. Werewolf? Possibly. It has to be a werewolf.” I look up and catch her eye, “Did you hear that?” “Hear what?” “That, um, noise.” “The scratching?” “Yeah, that.” Then it scratches again. And again. 

I’m up, my moment of peaceful content is over and existential thoughts have all fled. I don’t look out of her window. I start the truck, it roars to life, I blow the horn, put it in drive and roll out like I just finished watching Gone in 60 Seconds and Old Black Betty is playing on the radio. The radio doesn’t work though. She starts to turn her head to look in the back of the truck. “What are you doing?! You can’t look in the back of the truck, turn around!” “What, why?” “Cause it’s the rules! You don’t look back there until we are in a well lit and populated area.” “Okay!”

I’m barreling down this country road, I’d be trying to keep it between the lines but there aren’t any. There’s a white fence on my left, all out in this area there are fences like this one. In my mind it is there to keep the bad things away. There is no fence on the right, where the scratch happened. I get to the end of the road, nobody is coming, and I wouldn’t have cared if they were. I blow past the stop sign and turn to the left. The fence is gone. Now there are some lines and I’m between them. I’m still rolling fast. Old Black Betty is still playing in my head. I can she wants to look in the back of the truck, “Don’t you dare.” “Alright!”  

We drive on, I slow down a bit, my imagination does too. “You can look now.” She turns her head and says, “Nothing there.” I’m thankful. “You did hear it though, didn’t you?” “Yes mam, I did.” “What was it?” “I have no clue. Probably nothing. It’s dark, late, and quiet out here. I’m sure it sounded a lot louder than it was. Maybe it was a possum.” “Maybe.” “This is a spooky place though; I’ve got a lot of old stories about weird shit that happened out here.” “Well, don’t tell me any right now.” “Don’t worry, love.” As I’m driving I pass by Sand Hill Rd. on my left, and I’m thinking how many of those aforementioned stories happened on that road. I’m lost in thought.

“What the hell is that!?” “What?” She points straight ahead, “That!” I look ahead, straight and to my right, there is a stop sign at the end of Brewer Rd. where it runs into the road I’m driving down at about 40 mph, “I don’t see anything.” “Stop!” I stop. “Look above the stop sign.” The stop sign is about 50 yards ahead. I’m at the top of a small hill and my lights are shining on the sign. I see a dark patch, slender but humanoid shaped and at the top of this dark patch there is one huge glowing eye. This entire thing is dark, darker than the moonless night sky, but that eye is shining like a spotlight.

I’m in quite a quandary. Behind me is a werewolf or a rabid possum and in front of me is something that I can actually see and it looks like death come to collect overdue rent. I don’t know how I know but it turned, slightly, towards us. It seemed to me that it was a little bit perturbed that I interrupted its boogeyman activities with my headlights. “This can’t be real.” “There is no way.” Those were the last words said for a long time. As soon as they left our mouths it moved and the sign disappeared. There were no details to see, just a black void, devoid of light, and that damned eye.

The eye was bad enough but the way this thing moved was impossible. It moved like it didn’t have a spine and the only way you could tell it moved was the up, down, and sideways movement of that stupid sleep haunting eye. Well that and the darkness. The movement of the eye was a visceral thing, it was physically frightening. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck and my arms. I wasn’t scared for my life but I could feel my soul trying to escape. I mean that literally. Something came over me and I could feel everything in me that made me who I am trying to get away before it was too late.

It moved to the middle of the road. Up and down, sideways, the eye would be over six feet in the air one second and then so low to the ground the next that you couldn’t slide a piece of paper between it and the road. The darkness moved with it but the darkness seemed to be more of just a vessel. It seemed like the only reason it was there was to give the eye a home. Contrast maybe. It was stopped there in the middle of the road and then it started in our direction. All herky-jerky motion. I did the only thing that seemed plausible; I flipped on the bright lights. The eye closed. A second or two passed by, maybe an hour, I don’t know. Then they eye opened again on the far side of the road. It stood there for a minute. Floated? Then it moved down the side of and into a gully. The eye visible the entire way down and up the other side. The motion of it made me queasy. Then it was gone. The darkness and the eye were moving across the woods, I hoped.

We drove on, and we didn’t say much. There were no songs playing in my head and my soul had settled down. She reached out and grabbed my hand and we headed home, back towards well lit and populated areas. Away from the darkness.