As a child, I always loved to tell scary stories with Hannah and Daniel. In all honesty, the ones that I told were quite terrible, as they were almost always improvised.
However, there were some good ones that were told by my aunt and uncle. Ones that, though utterly laughable in retrospect, were certainly frightening to me at the time.
The first was about a group of kids who went to visit a farm, only to find the farmer dead--killed by an invisible ghost. The other was about a demon dog that killed people, though I forget most of the details.
For some reason, they keep coming to mind as I recall my childhood events. Unseen forces, mysterious killings and a demon dog... I guess they just seem to fit.
When I was eight, I was staying with my grandparents for the week, and as per the usual, I spent most of my time playing out in the back pasture with my aunt and uncle. We played in the tree clubhouse, chased lizards, and even ate a packed lunch out there.
While we were eating, however, Hannah commented on a strange smell and went to investigate. Being a naturally curious child, I followed her. She walked into the tall grass, but stopped a few moments after.
I moved to her side, only to see the carcass of an animal sprawled out on the ground. I had never seen one before, but I guessed from the sand-colored fur and dog-like features that it was a coyote.
This was confirmed as Hannah called Daniel over, telling him that we had found a dead coyote. He hurried over, and we all stared at its motionless form.
Having never seen one before, I was thoroughly fascinated. And since none of us were the type to be disturbed by an animal corpse, we were there for quite some time, exchanging ideas on how the poor canine was killed.
It was truly a puzzling case; it might have been easier to figure it out if the head wasn't missing. That was the truly baffling part: the body was beaten and bloodied, but the head was missing entirely.
We gave up trying to figure out what had happened. I thought that another coyote had killed it, but that didn't make sense. Another coyote wouldn't be able to tear off the head just like that unless it was some sort of mutant (which we did consider and discuss).
Daniel's theory was about an insane man with a hatchet who went around killing coyotes for fun. We all agreed that that was probably the closest guess and began to theorize more and more.
Soon, we had our very own urban legend: Bobby the Hacker, killer of coyotes. It didn't make much sense, but we didn't care.
Even though we made light of what we saw, it was still strange. One of a few strange things that happened during the week that I stayed with Grandma. Of course, they weren't really related.
Well, they didn't seem to be at first. As I got older though, I put together the pieces. I wish I hadn't seen that coyote body. That was what started everything.
***
I woke up in the guest bedroom of Grandma's house. I was covered in sweat. Mumbling in discomfort, I got out of bed and pulled on my clothes, glancing out the windows as I did so.
The thing I saw in the darkness the previous night... I had seen it, right? Or had it just been a dream? Memory of it was hazy. While I continued to tell myself that it was only a dream, the pit in my stomach grew and grew. I knew I was lying to myself.
It was back.
The day went as every other day that week had. I got up, ate a quick breakfast, then headed outside to meet Grandpa and get my assignments for the day.
All the while, I found myself nervously glancing at the back pasture. No, I was fine, or so I told myself. There was no point in fretting--what happened the night before was only a dream.
Nevertheless, work that day was a trial. I would sometimes stare into the back field for minutes at a time, only to snap back into reality with a startled cry.
I won't say that I was enchanted or captured by some unseen force; that would be ludicrous. But I was disturbed, I will admit that much.
Once or twice, I saw something move in the corner of my eye, only to turn and see the cat strutting about, or pouncing on a passing lizard.
Each time it happened, I mentally scolded myself for being so silly. So ridiculously stupid.
Everywhere I looked, I kept expecting to see a coyote. It was childish and silly, I know, but once my mind begins to dwell on something, it doesn't just stop. It obsesses and torments itself over the matter until it finds something else to obsess over.
I realized then that I'd be dwelling on those damned coyotes for quite a while.
***
The same week that Hannah discovered the dog's corpse, strange things began to happen. Animals went missing--chickens, ducks, geese. Such were the typical animals targeted by coyotes. However, bigger animals also went missing.
Goats, larger dogs, and even small horses seemed to vanish overnight. In each case, blood and bits of flesh would be left behind. Strangely enough, there was seldom any property damage at all, as though the creature could open doors and latches itself.
The question was: what animal would be smart enough to do that, yet strong enough to slay animals as big as goats? Or was it a crazed human? I only heard of all this through Daniel, who had overheard Grandpa telling all this to Grandma.
To kids who hadn't witnessed any of it, it was just a rumor. But none of us could deny that it fit well with what we had seen in the pasture.
I suppose that it is worth mentioning that the rumors and incidents began to arise two days after we discovered the corpse. This may sound random, but I don't think that it was.
Of course, eight-year-old me wasn't perceptive enough to put the three pieces together. He was too busy making up stories about Bobby the Hacker, whom Hannah and Daniel and I all blamed for the rumored incidents.
For the remainder of the week, the three of us began to notice some irregularities. Squirrels, mice, rats, and raccoons were discovered in the pasture, all dead and bloodied.
It was as though something had bitten in, but found that they tasted poor and thus left them to rot. It was highly uncharacteristic of any wild animal, and surely no man would be insane enough to something like that, right?
Well, guess who was blamed for it all. Did you get the answer right? Of course, it was Bobby the Hacker. He was killing all the animals for fun, and it was only a matter of time before he would come for us too.
We really scared ourselves silly with all that talk, or at least, I did. All strange happenings were henceforth pinned on Bobby, no matter what.
After meeting together, my aunt and uncle and I decided that we'd have to catch Bobby in order to make him stop killing the animals. It was up to us to save the land from the terrible scourge, and as such, we wasted no time at all making plans to catch him.
We focused on what few things we knew for certain, that the killer seemed to strike primarily in the back pasture. In theory, all we would have to do would be to wait outside until he showed up.
The plan was to wait in the watchtower and take turns standing guard. If any of us spotted something, we would shine our flashlights at it and throw rocks.
We even had some old metal beams that could be used as beating sticks if we needed to get up close. We also had a couple of jumping ropes to tie up the culprit once we caught him. In our minds, it was a flawless plan.
We camped out in the watchtower until nearly one in the morning, when Daniel saw something rustling in the tall grass down below.
He woke Hannah and I, and we all shined our flashlights down at the rustling area. We caught a glimpse of something: a coyote head. None of us could see the body, only the nose and ears.
We frantically made our way down to the ground level, taking the ropes and makeshift weapons along with us. By the time we reached the spot where the coyote had been, it was gone, and was replaced by an odd smell.
It was a strangely familiar smell, yet I couldn't put my finger on it. It wasn't pleasant though; thankfully for me, it wasn't particularly strong either.
Shining our lights at the ground, we found a small red puddle left behind, already soaking into the hard earth on which we stood. Was the dog wounded, or was it making off with its kill?
It had left something of a trail, but Hannah advised that we not follow it. It was most likely heading back to its den, after all, where there might be more of them. Moreover, it could have been wounded, and it's never a good idea to corner a wounded animal.
We decided then and there that it would be better to simply head to bed and forget about the strange incidents. After that night, they were never discussed again. Bobby the Hacker still came up in our stories, but we gave up trying to find him.
He probably never existed anyway, save for within our overactive imaginations. Go figure.
During the final few days of my stay, however, dead animals began to show up on the property. Squirrels, lizards and raccoons, mostly.
They all showed up around the house, so we initially assumed that it was merely the cat. However, cats don't just go killing raccoons, and the raccoon bodies found were completely disemboweled. No cat was capable of that, at least not to my knowledge.
They showed up all around the yard, but most were found close to the house, leaving the smell of rot everywhere we went. Grandpa disposed of them, but more kept on coming for days. I was told that they kept coming for about four days after I had left before they finally stopped. That wasn't the worst of it though.
The worst occurred a day after our stakeout, when we three kids decided that we were going to go play in the watchtower. We trudged through the grass of the back pasture before stepping onto the wooden base that acted as something of a foundation.
An old metal ladder led up to a small opening in the floor of the tower. We climbed up one at a time, only to be instantly met with the smell of rot. Rotting flesh.
It didn't take long to find the source. Lying in the corner of the room was a gutted raccoon. Blood splattered the floor underneath it and the walls near it, and some remaining entrails spilled out.
Dried splatters of blood led from the body to the opening in the floor. In addition to being gutted, its body was absolutely mangled, torn in several places. Its tail had been severed, and one ear was missing.
Cleaning up the mess was utterly revolting; the smell refused to leave the watchtower even after it had been cleaned, so we stopped playing there until the next time I visited, by which point it had finally died away.
It puzzled us though, that finding. It looked as though whatever left it there had either entered or left through the hole in the floor (likely both), but what sort of animal would be able to climb the ladder like that? What animal would go out of its way to do something like that? It made absolutely no sense.
It sort-of reminded me of a cat, in a way. Did you know that some cats will leave mice and such as presents for their owners? It kind-of reminded me of a cat in that way, which fit since I continued to blame the smaller animals on the cats that lived on the property.
The smell of the raccoon did cause one thing to click in my mind though, strange as it may sound. I realized that it was the same smell that had lingered in the air when we had spotted the coyote in the grass.