As usual the highway that night didn’t have one motorist. It was just me and Brent. Our trek back home was easier. The dim afterglow of the moon made the flat black top simple enough. It would have taken three times as long stumbling through the pitch black forest. Although our highway journey was filled with trepidation it was nothing compared to the horror that awaited us on our dirt road.
County Road 47 peeled off the highway at a steep incline. Within 25 yards you were off the main road and into thick forest. The only source of comfort came from two porch lights, our neighbors and then ours further down. It was amazing how our little 40 watt bulb offered so much security. The distance to that light bulb instantly grew too far and the security it offered overshadowed by heavy footsteps behind us.
Brent and I heard the awkward thumps at the same time. We looked at each other and then back over our shoulder to see an ominous dark figure all too close to us and keeping pace. It had on a deformed hat and I could make out a gruesome amount of facial hair. An old torn coat slung over its hunched back. I looked back once again and was jabbed in the side by Brent’s elbow. He scolded me not to look back. I’m still not sure of his reasoning. Was he hoping that it would go away if not seen? Was he not wanting to offend it by staring – mom always said it was impolite to stare.
It was making ground with its longer strides, so Brent and I picked up our pace. Then we both gasped when we realized it had intentionally matched our tempo. This sent us into full panic mode . . .