make things worse, but telling the truth ain’t helping either, he thought, as he hung his head and retreated to his room.
The following morning, he took his father’s camera and returned, searching the area where the beast had been. Certainly, a picture of its tracks would prove my story, he thought, studying the ground. He searched for nearly an hour, but to his despair, the mammoth creature had left no tracks, no fur, nothing at all that could validate his claims.
He returned home empty-handed. Later that evening, he brought it up once more, explaining every detail he could recall and desperately urging his father to believe him.
His pleads did not dissuade his father, who offered only, “Someday, Ethan, you will lose someone, or something, very close to you. Then you will understand it better. Some things just aren’t funny and some things you just don’t joke around about.”
Frustration growing, he returned the next day, hopeful to find some clue that he had missed, yet disappointment his only reward. He considered that the bump on his head from the collision with the tree might be the cause of everything. Perhaps I am going crazy, he thought, perhaps this is all the thoughts of a nutzo kid with a concussion and crazy delusions. The thoughts brought an ache to his head and a decision to return home and try to find something else to occupy his mind.
As he crested the ridge just above the cabin, his eyes revealed the impossible. The beast had returned, yet this time it was waiting for him, pacing silently outside the cabin. He watched in disbelief as the large animal studied the small home. How on earth am I going to get around it? He questioned. How would he ever get back inside without being seen? The monster could swallow me whole! And it is just sitting there waiting for me!
Just then, the door swung open and his father stepped out. The creature turned as if to lunge, however, it did not. Instead, it slowly followed his father as he walked toward his truck. Ethan tried to scream, but fear choked away his voice. He watched in terror, waiting for the worst.
His father had not seen the animal standing only feet behind him. He turned toward the house and… He did not scream. He did not panic, or run for his shotgun, rather, he simply kept walking. He had not acknowledged, or even seen, the insanely huge animal just at his feet.
He emerged from the house again, carrying a box, which he placed in the back of the old truck before hopping in the cab. The beast followed, then with a slight leap, jumped into the bed and sat down. Ethan could not believe his eyes as he watched them drive off, melting into a cloud of dust down the old dirt road.
He raced inside to tell his mother, although met, yet again, with disbelief. “Your stories are getting much more elaborate, Ethan,” she said. “But you better learn to keep your creativity, and your reality, two separate things. Dinner will be in about an hour, young man, and your butt better be in that chair when it is.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied somberly, retreating to his room once more.
He eagerly awaited his father’s return, although knowing it likely that even his father, who had been right next to the thing, would deny it and likely offer further scolding. An hour passed and his father had not returned, so he sat at the table.
“I don’t know what's taking him so long,” she said, “He ran out for milk and butter and probably got stuck talkin’ ta Old Man Tate, or one of them other fools down at the store.”
A small box of pictures sat out alongside the table so he flipped through the pictures as he waited. He flipped photo after photo, carefully studying each one. He found the picture of the dog that he remembered seeing, and noticed writing on the back.
Jack…Six Months Old.
A picture behind it in the stack, however, revealed a frightening image. He leaned forward to focus his eyes as the picture revealed a much larger dog, nearly identical to the one he had seen. It was sitting in the back of a new pickup truck, the same truck that his father still drove. He flipped it over and read
Jack…Two Years Old.
He pulled it from the stack and ran to his mother to show her, but as he pled his story, the ring of the telephone interrupted.
~~~
Ethan Wolfe stood tall, remaining silent, as the soldiers removed the flag from the casket and folded it neatly into a triangle. One soldier then took the flag and knelt down, extending it to his mother. “On behalf of a grateful nation…” the soldier began.
His eyes drifted away from the soldiers, the flag, the casket, and all the people that stood mourning their loss. He looked beyond them, to a small ridge at the edge of the cemetery. His father lay before him in a casket, yet unseen to everyone else; he also stood along the small ridge, fifty yards away. He stood with an eternal understanding in his eyes, and his best friend, Jack, proudly reunited at his side.
~~~ The End ~~~
Also from Backwoods:
Unremembered, by Backwoods
After a fatal crash, Ethan Wolfe must survive the wilderness to evade capture. He flees to Colorado to seek asylum with friends, only to find them facing an evil beyond imagination. A twisted dream and a shocking premonition leave him wondering if they face the evil or are the cause of it.
Off Grid, by Backwoods
Johnny & Rae Lynn Tapper find safety in solitude, hidden deep within the shelter of the Rocky Mountains. Terrorists have taken away the country they once knew and they survive, secluded and alone, by living off the land. They live wild new lives in a wild new world, living among the wild animals of the vast Colorado wilderness. There are no phones. There is no power. There are few people. They are completely 'Off Grid'.
Stronghold, by Backwoods
Book #2 of the Off Grid Series
After a devastating attack changed the country forever, Johnny and Rae Lynn Tapper have survived solitude in the wilderness, bitter winters, brutal injuries, a deadly encounter with wolves, and the birth of their child while alone and trapped by a very unpleasant bear. Now they face an even greater danger, Howard Harvey, the serial killer who has moved into their town of Stronghold.
Seven Years, by Backwoods
Tales from the Backwoods, Story #1
Seven Years is the first story of the Tales from the Backwoods. It is a short paranormal thriller about a man sentenced to seven years in prison. The harsh realities of prison are a source of fear for many reasons, although the worst fears are likely not the realities, but the unknown. This story certainly tops my list of fears.
Lost Time, by Backwoods
Tales From The Backwoods, Story #2
What if today, was tomorrow?
Lost Time is a short, chilling tale of a man who has lost his time.
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~Backwoods~
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