Witches, Ghosts & Other Haunts

𝖂𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖎𝖑'𝖘 𝕱𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗

     Once, there were three men who really enjoyed hunting. Their favorite game to hunt was wolves. They lived in the southern regions of Canada. They killed the wolves for bounty because the wolves were said to bother the cattle. But soon the wolves became scarce so the three stopped hunting them.

     One day, after they had quit killing wolves, they decided to go and hunt deer instead. There was an old cabin up in the woods that nobody lived in and they often used it for hunting before, so they went there.

     It was November twenty-second and they had decided to camp in the woods. They gathered supplies to last about a week and they headed out to the abandoned cabin. By the time they reached their destination, it was almost nightfall. They decided to sleep and go hunting in the morning.

     That night, after they had eaten dinner, they decided to tell ghost stories because they were bored. "Hey, Joe! Randy! Have I ever told you the story about these woods?" asked David.
     "No," replied Randy and Joe in unison.
     "Well, then, sit down and let me tell it to you!" declared David. "Now it goes something like this: Once, there was a hunter who went by the name of Elwood and he enjoyed hunting wolves like us. He was the man who owned this cabin before it was abandoned. It was on a cold November night. It had snowed a lot in the past few days and Elwood couldn't get out of his own cabin. A couple of days earlier, he had killed a pure white wolf. Twenty-seven years ago today was the day that he died."

     "What happened?" asked Joe thoroughly engrossed in the story.
     "Well, why don't you shut up and let me tell you? Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Old Elwood would turn pelts in weekly for a bounty. When he didn't turn up in three weeks, the townspeople began to worry. They organized a search party and they headed up to this old cabin. He didn't answer the door when they knocked so they went in uninvited. On the floor was Elwood's body. His throat had been ripped open. They found white wolf hairs all over him but there were no signs of a struggle. The only thing that the people could figure was that it was the vengeful spirit of the white wolf he had killed," David finished.

     "Whoa!" exclaimed Joe.
     "Creepy," said Randy in a choked whisper. That night, none of the three hunters could sleep. They kept hearing a wolf howling outside their window, but whenever they went to look for it, nothing was there.

     When they got up the next morning, they discovered that a heavy snow had fallen. It took all three men just to push the door open. Then they realized that they were trapped there. The roads would be closed for a little while until the plows could get out there. When they opened the door, a large pile of snow fell from the roof onto the three men. They began climbing to the top and were happy and gasping for breath when they broke through to the surface. That was until they saw what was watching them. A white wolf had come out of the woods and was standing watching them at the edge of the clearing. It startled the men but it appeared to be friendly. It wagged its tail just one time and then ran off into the early morning mists.

     After the roads were cleared, they headed back into town. They no longer felt like hunting deer. They wanted to seek revenge on the wolf that had kept them awake all night. So they gathered extra supplies and then headed back to the cabin for a few days.

     When they arrived, there was no sign of the wolf. They began tracking the wolf, looking for markings in the snow and other signs that a wolf had passed through. It soon grew dark and they returned to the cabin with no luck.

     As they rounded the bend in the path that led to the clearing, they saw the white wolf. It saw the rifles that the men were carrying and it gave out a terrifying howl. The large animal leaped at the men and attacked with such force and speed that the men didn't have a chance to react. The wolf knocked Randy off of his feet and the men came to their senses. They shot at the wolf, but whether they missed it or not, the bullets didn't faze it.

     A week later, the three men's families went to search for them. What they saw upon reaching the cabin horrified them. The three men, Joe, Randy, and David, were lying dead on the ground. Their bodies were torn in several places and the blood was frozen to their bodies from the cold and it was spread on the snow staining it crimson. Also covering their bodies were gobs of fur from the white wolf.

     That one single flick of the wolf's tail had been taken by the men to be friendliness. What it really signaled was the sign of the wolf's next kill, the wolf being the guardian of all that dwelt in the forest. Nobody ever found a white wolf in the woods again. Nobody in that area of Canada ever hunted wolves again either.