The
Woodland Devil
J.G.
George
approx.
5,000 words
The
Woodland Devil
by
J.G. George
I
used to say, "Head for the hills!" when trouble was coming.
It turns out this is terrible advice because there are weir-sheep
roaming the forests of Appalachia. My brother informed me of this
potential hazard after he'd seen a Sheepsquatch. Avery knows I like
a good story, but I don't believe half the paranormal crap that's on
every third cable channel without adding sheep-men to the list. I
think monster stories should stay in the realm of the menacingly
credible, and a spooky sheep-man doesn't fill that bill. Sheep just
aren't scary.
Avery
wasn't trying to scare me though. He was scared himself, and trying
to make sense of what he'd seen. Avery has always liked deep woods
camping, but lately he's been using the trips as an excuse to lay
around drunk for a couple of days. He'd been out in the Seneca Forest
with another hard drinking friend, Cecil Maynard. This is what he
told me.
“Me
and Cecil hiked into this hollow and decided it was where we’d set
up camp since it wasn't too long til dark. We pitched our tents and
settled in. We were drinking home brew and swapping stories when we
heard something moving around in the dark. It wasn’t any big deal,
we were in the woods after all, but when it started growling, we got
a little worried. We had our guns close by of course, but we decided
we needed them in hand just in case.
“The
growling that started out in the woods got closer. Something was
circling the camp. We could hear it crunching through the leaves and
snuffling the ground out there in the dark. The noise would fade back
then come closer, like a predator looking for a weak spot. We didn’t
aim to show it one.”
“We
might have a problem on our hands,” Cecil said.
“I
can't see anything past the campfire. It's pitch black out there.
What do you reckon we ought to do?”
“Let’s
circle up, that way we won't shoot each other in case our visitor
decides to introduce himself.”
“So
we sat back to back holding our rifles, waiting. The only moves we
made were to keep the fire built up. Usually a wild animal won’t
approach a campfire, but it didn’t stop this critter. It moved into
the light and I finally got a look at it. It was as big as a bear,
but it was a dirty white color, and it walked around on two legs more
than it did four.”
“Was
it some kind of mutant bear do you think?” I asked interested in
spite of myself.
“It
was some kind of mutant alright. It had a face like a sheep or a goat
except it didn’t have flat teeth like a grass eater. It had a mouth
full of fangs that looked like they could gnaw through rock. Its eyes
were huge and awful. I think they were solid black, but they
reflected the campfire so it looked like they were burning flames.”
“Why
didn’t y’all shoot it?” Considering how gun happy Avery and
Cecil were, I didn’t understand why they didn't plug the thing.
“We
were scared,” Avery admitted. “It was the middle of the night in
the middle of the woods, and we were pretty drunk. We didn't want to
take it on. There might have been more of them out there for one
thing, and to tell you the truth, it didn't seem like shooting it
would do any good. We didn't want to make it mad. We decided to shoot
only if it came at us. It seemed to be sizing us up, for what
purpose, I don't know. It was, without a doubt, the worst night of my
life.”
“Well
obviously it didn’t kill you, how did you get out of there?”
“It
sort of faded back into the woods and everything got quiet around
four o’clock in the morning, so we just waited for daylight. When
it got to where we could see, we left. One thing we noticed when we
were packing up was how torn up the ground was all around us. It
looked like somebody had come in there with a tiller and plowed
everything up. We couldn’t figure that out at all, but we didn't
stand around and try. We packed it in as quick as we could and I’ll
tell you right now, I ain’t never going back.”
“What
do you think it was?” I asked him.
“It
was definitely no animal I've ever seen before. It looked like it was
part man. I think it was a weir-sheep.”
“You
mean a man who turns into a sheep during a full moon?”
“I
don't think a full moon has anything to do with it, but I don't know
that for a fact. It's just this thing, whatever it was, didn't seem
completely like an animal. It was checking us out, not in the
cautious way an animal would, but the way a man might who's deciding
whether or not he's going to fight you. It's hard to explain because
there's nothing in my experience to compare it to. I did hear some
guys down at the bar making jokes about a Sheepsquatch one time, so
maybe it's the same thing. I don't know.”
“How
did it smell?”
“No
worse than Cecil.”
I
didn't think Avery was a liar, but I couldn’t help questioning him.
It was the goofiest story I had ever heard first hand, but either he
was crazy or he'd actually seen something. I tried to talk to Cecil
about it when I saw him later, but he wouldn’t say anything. He
just shook his head and waved me off. I tried for days to forget what
my brother had told me, but it kept eating at me like poison ivy. The
more I scratched at it, the worse it got. There was nothing for it, I
was going into the woods.
***
I
knew I couldn’t go alone and I knew my brother wouldn’t go with
me. I couldn’t imagine any of my straight-laced, settled down, go
to work every day and raise a family friends would even be remotely
interested in a wild sheep chase in the woods. I’d be lucky if they
didn’t have me carted off and locked away in a nice soft room if I
brought it up. But I couldn’t go into the woods by myself whether
there was a crazed sheep monster or not. People fell in holes, broke
body parts, and generally got themselves concussed when they went off
alone like that. I had to find a like mind, preferably attached to an
able body. I turned to the only place available to me. I went online.
I
started fishing around paranormal discussion forums, reading other
folks personal experiences and opinions hoping to run across somebody
who had some sense. I had to give that up pretty quick and instead
tried focusing on finding people I liked which was easier to do. I
found a forum populated mostly by decent members even if they were a
tad short in spelling and grammar skills. The board was called
Cryptidonomicon. I assigned myself the handle Sheepherder456 and
logged on in.
I
made my first tentative remarks on existing posts. I joined
discussions about Mothman, the Beast of Brae Road, and the Jersey
Devil while I sat at my computer rolling my eyes at some of the wild
stuff I read. I didn’t want to bust in with an alarmist story and
be ridiculed or listen to people talk down to me for it. Truth be
told, I felt ashamed of myself for more reasons than I’m actually
able to state. My emotional range just doesn’t travel as deep into
these dark places where some folks seem to dwell, and I was
embarrassed about what I was doing to find someone to go into the
woods with me. Obviously I needed to broaden my social scope. I
didn't have one person in my life who would listen to a wild ass
story I needed to tell. I had a large deficit in my friendship
accounts. I thought I might have begun balancing the books a little
when I made friends with Don’tGetMeRiley.
Don’tGetMeRiley
was thoughtful and funny. He showed enough skepticism without being a
total jerk and just enough belief to make me feel like I could trust
him. His conversations with people on the forum were always
respectful if they deserved respect.
I
had to work up my nerve to post my brother's story. Mentally I
divided up the board into two groups, which isn’t being fair to the
folks there by any means, but if I did it that way, I’d only have
two camps to worry about. One faction would believe anything that was
on the internet. The second group was made up of folks who would poke
fun of everything and everybody just because they could. With this
analysis to give me courage, I got brave enough to tell my story and
handle the responses. I posted my brother’s tale and awaited the
onslaught.
GhostGirl88:
OMG! Did he get pictures?
MonsterMan:
Are there other reports of sightings in the area?
YUStoopid:
I think your brother might have seen Stonersquatch, dude.
GhostGirl88:
You shut up you horrible troll!
YUStoopid:
Go blow Caspar beeyatch!
MyLittleVampy:
Don’t feed the trolls.
GhostGirl88:
Yeah, don’t feed the ugly troll morons.
YUStoopid:
That's not what your mom said last night.
Don’tGetMeRiley:
Have you gone in to check out the story?
Sheepherder456:
I haven’t. I’ve been studying up on the area and these kinds of
sightings, but I’m not sure I should haul off in there alone. My
brother said he's never going back.
YUStoopid:
If you’re looking to get someone out in the woods to murder, you
should go on Craigslist.
GhostGirl88:
I hate you! All you do is troll!
MyLittleVampy:
Don’t feed the trolls.
GhostGirl88:
What Vampy said!!!!!!
Don’tGetMeRiley:
Do you mind PMing me the details?
Sheepherder456:
I would be glad to do that.
That's
how we became friends on the board. It turned out that Riley was a
fellow southerner from Tennessee, just one state away. We traded
messages until we both felt confident that the other wasn’t an ax
wielding maniac or some lonely soul looking for a love connection. I
shared the trepidation I felt about investigating my brother’s
story and my inability to let it go. Riley shared what he’d read,
heard, and watched, but he also told me this story of a personal
experience. I didn't question why he never posted it on the forum. I
figured he didn't want to deal with the backlash.
Hey
Carl,
Happy
Saturday! It didn’t get here too soon for me. I’m beat. I
promised I’d tell you what got me interested in monster sightings
and I guess today is as good a time as any. I used to work for
Grandpa's Restaurant & Novelty Stores when I was younger. My job
was going to the warehouse, getting loads of the tourist trash that
they sell in the stores and delivering it. My route was all over the
southeast so I spent quite a bit of time on the road. One evening I
was pulling into Bean Station and I saw a scarecrow on the side of
the road which was strange but not unheard of. If you’ve seen some
of the roadside “museums” that dot the south, you figure you’ve
run across another exterior decorator and keep going. The scarecrow
was weird looking, all bumpy and misshapen. It had a dried up gourd
where the head should be with a face carved in it. It was dressed
all in black with long white hair sticking out from underneath a
stovepipe hat. It was the creepiest looking thing I'd ever seen. As I
drove past, the head turned, and the thing looked at me. I almost
crapped my britches it scared me so bad, but I kept on driving.
After the initial shock wore off I figured that I'd been pranked by
some kids with nothing better to do. I was half a mind to go back and
administer a butt kicking, then I just let it go. People get bored in
small towns, and frequently they do stupid stuff for entertainment.
I made it to Grandpa's, got unloaded and headed home. I didn’t
take the same road out as I did coming in.
Up
around Sevierville, I’ll be danged if I didn’t see that scarecrow
thing again! He was right there on the side of the road outlined in
my headlights. There was no doubt this time that it was watching me.
My first instinct was to slam on the brakes but since I was on a two
lane highway with traffic behind me, I couldn’t do that unless I
wanted to risk an accident. By the time I got to where I could turn
around and go back, nothing was there. Then I turned around again so
I could go home. I was feeling pretty jumpy by that time and I was
glad to get off the road. I didn’t see anything else for months,
but that experience stuck with me. When I finally got the guts to
talk to other truckers about it, I found out the thing had a name.
They called it the Tennessee Troll.
A
few years later I bought my first computer and the World Wide Web
opened up to me. I was able to read about that booger and see what
other people said about it, which wasn’t much. Some folks said it
was a harbinger of bad luck or good, but I never noticed any events
around it. It was the event in itself. I’ve seen it three times
more since that first time and all it ever does is turn its head
around and look. I stopped working for Grandpa's and got off the
road. I was afraid there would be a day when the thing wouldn't be
content with just watching me. I didn’t like the job that much
anyway so it wasn’t a big loss. I still don’t like to drive alone
at night though.
The
experience taught me that there's more in our world than we're able
to understand. I got interested in all sorts of sightings that
so-called normal folks didn't have. I figured if I could see a
haunted scarecrow, somebody else might really be seeing the wolfman
or aliens. That's why I'm a member of Crytidonomicon.
Okay,
how crazy do you think I am now?
Riley
Dear
Riley,
What
a story! Of course I looked up Tennessee Troll after I read it and
you’re right, I couldn’t find a lot. Can’t find all that much
about a sheep monster either, probably because people don’t want to
be laughed off the innertubez. :D
Carl
***
IM:
Hey Sheepherder! How do you feel about winter camping?
IM:
Hey Riley. I’m game if you are.
IM:
You want to see if we can find your brother’s bogey?
IM:
You bet.
***
It
was after Christmas before we were able to head out to the woods and
it was colder than a well digger’s ass. You never know what the
weather will be like these days. Some years Christmas is warm like
early fall and some years were like this one. It wasn’t snowing,
but it was icy cold.
Riley
got to my house Friday night. I guess he shook off his fear of
traveling after dark enough to make the trip. He was about my age, a
little younger maybe, but both of us had seen plenty of winters prior
to this one. He was a single man like me, except he was divorced.
Riley said he married the love of his life. When she ran off with the
meter reader man, he just never got over it. Some guys stay married
all their adult lives, even if they lose a wife to misfortune or
misadventure, they go out and find another one as soon as they can.
Riley never even tried to remarry. Me, I could never make a
relationship work. After I hit 45 or so, I just gave up trying. It
wasn’t worth the heartache. Riley and I both had family, but nobody
would miss us all that much if we weren’t around. We had that in
common too.
Riley
was like a high school buddy I hadn't seen in a while, like I had
known him my entire life. I was almost grateful to the sheep creature
for showing up. We had a few beers and some burgers, then we stayed
up talking later than we should have since we wanted to get an early
start. It was great because for the first time in a long time, I
actually enjoyed a Friday night.
The
next morning we packed our gear into my pickup and headed out. I
brought my hunting rifle, but I hoped I didn't have to use it. I
don't like guns very much. Avery had scratched some directions on a
map I had given him and we did our best to follow them. He warned me
that my cell phone would be useless where we were going. Hiking into
the Seneca State Forest in the dead of winter was risky, and
primitive camping wasn’t encouraged any time of year. The state
provided plenty of cabins and campground spaces where they could
charge properly for a visit. If a person decided to operate outside
those bounds, he was on his own. Wilderness campers couldn't hope for
any help from a passing ranger if they got into trouble. There were
over 11,000 acres where a person could get lost. Avery knew the
forest pretty well and he didn’t seem to be bothered about it until
after he saw that sheep-man.
Riley
and I were going way off trail and on rough terrain. Considering we
were two guys who were approaching geezerhood, we had to be careful.
We marked trees with strips of red cloth on the way in so we could
find our way out in the next day or two. After a couple hours of
rough hiking, we thought we found a place to set up.
We
tramped down into a hollow that might or might not have been where my
brother had camped. Enough time had passed so that we couldn’t
really tell if the earth was overly disturbed in any one place.
Between the previous rainfall and all the leaf litter, one spot of
ground looked much like the next. We kept walking around and we found
a circle of stones that looked like it had been set up to contain a
campfire. Riley and I judged that this was as good a place as any so
we set to work making camp.
We
gathered firewood and pitched our tents. We got out our digital
cameras and our firepower. I wasn’t planning on bellowing into the
dark while waving a gun around like some folks on TV, but come on,
this was the great outdoors. A person’s place on the food chain
could head downhill in a heartbeat.
As
the light faded we settled in, talking quietly and taking pictures
once in awhile for something to do. Owls hooted and coyotes yipped
in the dark of the forest night. We sat there, completely on edge
until way past midnight and absolutely nothing happened. Around two
o’clock we were dozing off in front of the fire, so reluctantly we
headed into our tents to sleep. There was nothing in the woods that
wasn’t supposed to be there as far as we could tell. Next morning
I was feeling a little sheepish, pardon the pun, and I said so to
Riley.
“If
this stuff was easy to find, someone would have already found it,”
he said. “These creatures don’t appear on cue and if they did,
the Sci-Fi channel would have way more interesting stock footage when
they make all those low budget horror movies.”
“Thanks
for that,” I said sincerely. Riley just laughed.
“Do
you think we should look for a new campsite?” I asked him.
“Not
really. This one’s pretty good, and it’s in close proximity to
your brother’s old camp. Why don’t we just rustle up some more
firewood and scout around a little bit?”
We
hiked the winter forest in all directions around our camp. Evidence
of wildlife was everywhere, but then of course it would be. What we
didn't see was anything out of the ordinary. We ate supper, such as
it was, and got ready to settle in for another night. Riley brought
out a bottle of whiskey and said we might as well have a snort and I
agreed. We needed to have a little fun while we were freezing our
asses off. I figured that Avery might have been sampling something
other than Cecil’s home brew out here, and I was berating myself
for believing in sheep monsters. I said so to Riley.
“Don’t
be too hard on him Carl,” said Riley grinning. “How else would
we have ended up out here in the woods having a good time?”
“That’s
true,” I agreed. “If it weren’t for Avery’s story, I would
have never gone on that message board.”
I
didn’t say and found you for a friend because I didn’t want to
sound pathetic. I was feeling kind of weird though, and my vision
was blurring. I didn’t understand why the top of my head was
floating off. I looked over at Riley and tried to tell him what was
going on, but suddenly I realized that he knew. The smile on his face
was just too wide and it wasn't a bit friendly. That's when I blacked
out.
When
I came to, the first thing I noticed was how much my head hurt. It
felt like it had been beaten with a meat hammer, and I was so cold I
was shaking. I felt something rough against my skin and realized I
was naked, hugging a tree like a long lost lover. My hands and feet
were tied and my bare ass was scraping against dried out pine needles
on the ground. I blinked my eyes to clear my vision. The first thing
I saw was Riley standing there grinning that awful grin and flipping
a hunting knife.
“Well
it’s about time,” he laughed. “I was beginning to think you
were going to sleep through all the good stuff.”
He
came toward me still smiling. I tried to force my way out of the
ropes but it was hopeless. I was bound tight. I wanted to scream
curses at Riley, but the gag in my mouth prevented me from making
much noise. Dear God, what was I thinking? I’d come out in the
middle of nowhere with a complete stranger who was going to kill me.
I think I would have started to cry if I weren’t so pissed off.
“First
thing, Sheepherder456, I am going to do is beat you,” said the
maniac reaching into his duffel bag. He pulled out a car antenna and
extended it to its full length.
“It’s
going to take a while so try not to get impatient.”
The
antennae hissed through the air and I felt the flesh on my back rip
and blood spurt out. Nothing has ever hurt so much, not the time I
fell off the roof of the house, or the time I was in a four car
pile-up on the highway that laid me up for three months. This was the
Devil’s own torture, straight up from Hell. I don’t know how long
it went on because I passed out again. When I woke back up Riley had
traded the antennae for his hunting knife and was cutting off one of
my toes. I couldn’t help it, the tears started running down my
cheeks as I realized I was going to die. I didn’t even care that I
was tied naked to a tree any more, I just wanted it to be over, but
Riley, or whoever he was, had other ideas. He wanted to make it last.
I screamed in rage and pain causing Riley to laugh so hard he stopped
cutting on me for a moment.
After I quit my muted screaming, I
heard a scrabbling noise in the brush behind Riley. He didn’t seem
to notice it because he was focused on slicing between my toes. He
didn't see what was behind him, but I did. Riley felt me go rigid. He
looked up at me and saw something in my eyes, something besides the
agony and terror he inflicted. I wasn't looking at him any more. He
half turned to follow my gaze, but the creature was quick. The white
thing came out of the darkness and took him to the ground in one
powerful leap. Blood soaked the goat-faced monster's muzzle as it
ripped out the throat of the freak called Riley. Then it fed on the
soft parts. When it was done, it walked off into the night on two
legs, dragging what was left of Riley with it in its claw-tipped
fingers.
The
campfire was burning down and I was afraid I would go into shock so I
did my best to work my bonds against the rough bark of the tree.
Mostly I succeeded in doing more damage to my wrists than to the
rope. Daylight was coming and the forest was waking up around me. If
I didn’t get loose, Riley would have succeeded in killing me like
he planned all along. Then I saw the knife where he dropped it. I
began working my feet closer hoping to kick the blade nearer to my
hands but it was no use. I was still trapped.
Then
I heard a heavy tread crunching through the dead leaves in the woods,
and the sound was moving closer. I figured another predator was being
drawn by the meaty smell of blood that was splashed all over the
campsite. I was wrong. It was the sheep-man. He was back. He stood
there in front of me in the early morning light. He was had to be
over seven feet tall, but it was hard to tell from my position on the
ground. The creature had the lower body, legs and feet of a powerful
goat and the torso of man. His head would have been ovine except for
the row of deadly sharp teeth that projected out of his mouth. Rams’
horns curved outward from his forehead. He gazed at me with eyes so
black, they didn't seem have a bottom to them. The sheep-man bent
over and looked me in the face, and I felt hot breath on my cheek.
It smelled like blood. I squeezed my eyes shut not wanting to see
what was going to happen to me, but instead of feeling those razor
sharp teeth, the bonds holding my hands fell away. I opened my eyes
and saw that the creature had used its claws to cut the rope. With
one swift flick, he cut the bonds on my ankles. He crouched there on
the ground and looked me dead in the eyes for a few seconds or a
hundred years, I’m not sure which. Then he stood up and trotted
off into the forest, his hooves cutting up the ground as he went. I
got the message.
Getting
out of the woods was hard going because I was beat all to hell, but I
got out. I drove myself to the nearest ranger’s station and they
got me to an emergency room. I told the cops as much of the truth as
I thought they would believe and the rest I made up. I told them it
was been a bear, driven crazy by the blood smell, that killed Riley.
They bought it, even though most respectable bears were fast asleep
that time of year. I guess they couldn’t do much else. When they
found out who Riley was, I don't think they cared who or what killed
him. It turned out that Riley was a serial killer the Feds had been
hunting for years. The DNA they got from his bloody clothing proved
it to their satisfaction. He found his victims in truck stops and
diners all over the southeast.
He targeted junkies and prostitutes at
first because they were easy marks, then he bought his first
computer. He found more respectable victims online. He'd profess love
for the unlovable, and friend the friendless. Then he'd get them out
in the woods and torture them to death, leaving their bodies to rot.
Killing across state lines kept his handiwork unconnected for over 20
years. The Woodland Devil is what they called him after they finally
figured out one person was responsible for a whole lot of death. His
real name was Richard Vadum, and I would have been the 32nd
out of his known victims, but I was saved by a creature
semi-reality TV calls Sheepsquatch, a creature whose existence is
denied by most rational folks.
I can probably google Woodland Devil if I ever decide to use the
internet again. Right now I'm not interested in talking to anybody I
don't already know, online or especially in person. Making friends
was hard before this happened, now I reckon it's impossible.
I’ve
thought a lot about what happened in the woods that night, hell, I’ve
thought about little else. Something people call a monster saved my
life. Something called a man tried to end it. I looked into that
creature's eyes and saw intelligence and maybe even pity. Whatever he
is, he’s not hurting anyone, except maybe those who deserve it. He’s just living out his life the
best way he can, and for whatever reason, he decided to spare mine. I
won’t look for him again.
I'm
trying my best to get well, though it’s going to take some time.
I’m not as young as I used to be, and I don’t seem to bounce back
as fast. When I can hike again, I’m going to take the biggest meat
hunk I’m able to handle out to that campsite and leave it. I’ll
be well out of there before night falls. Then I’m going to go find
my stupid brother and kick his ass.
End
