Flashing bugs float on the heavy air as itchy grass tugs at my witch costume. Ahead the faint outline of the dark barn can be seen against the dimming sky. Scott is several stomps in front of me. He’s dressed in a black tank top, black pants, combat boots, and a red bandanna rolled up and tied over his dark hair. Momma did good getting his Rambo costume put together, but she didn’t have time to dress herself, so she’s trudging behind us in her nursing uniform. And I don’t know where Daddy is. He left sometime after Momma got home. Grandma said to meet at the barn in costume at nightfall. It was strict instructions, Momma said, no questions about it.
A musty smell from the barn wafts against my face. Crowded around its mouth is a mess of karate kids, gunslingers like Doc Holiday and Johnny Ringo, and even Indiana Jones. I notice several of my girl cousins came but only one of them dressed up. They’re teenagers and the oldest is even in college so they usually ain’t around, but I love it when they are. I got one other girl cousin and she’s only six months older than me but she lives somewhere out in California and I only seen her a few times ever in my life.
I hop and tug the little red hood off my cousin’s head. She turns around and squeals, “Annie!”
I smile proudly and twist as she admires my costume. Behind us hunting spotlights are perched in the grass, lighting up the face of the barn. The creeping arms of the trees reach deep into its mouth, reclaiming the scarred wood. Deeper into the barn a steady glow bounces gracefully against the blackness. I squint my eyes, trying to figure out what it is. Suddenly Grandma’s face appears hovering in the dark above the glow. Her thin, frail body takes shape as she steps forward with a tall walking stick in one hand and a flashlight held under her chin in the other.
“Welcome children,” she says in an eerie voice.
My cousins jump with excitement and make “oooooo” sounds. I can’t see over them so I cut through, making my way to the right near the edge of the barn slab.
From the brush behind the spotlight nearest me a high-pitched shriek slices through the black air. Loud gasps fill the air as Scott flinches next to me. The air stills into silence as eyeballs dart around. I hold my breath, watching the brush where the shriek came from.
Another shriek pierces the air.
“It’s a bobcat!” My uncle, the youngest one, the biggest one, yells from behind us.
The chilly air charges with screams around me. My cousins scatter. As a third piercing shriek rings out. Dirt kicks up around me as my cousins shoot away from the barn, darting in different directions. I stay frozen in place as my eyes leap through all the commotion around me. I ain’t ever seen a bobcat around our land before. Suddenly, my other uncle, the oldest one, the shortest one, raises up from the brush near the spotlight. A big grin stretches over his square face. He shrieks, his voice sounding just like a bobcat except for the chuckle that’s interrupting it.
“Getting pretty good at that bobcat call, ain’t I?” he asks us.
We all clap and laugh with excitement.
“We knew it was you,” Steven yells from somewhere.
Grandma strikes the walking stick twice against the barn’s rickety floorboards. Our heads snap back toward the mouth of the barn.
“Tonight, children, you’re going to hear a legend that hasn’t been told in many, many, years.”
More gasps and oooooo’s sound as my cousins laugh and shove each other. I look up at them and make the oooooooo sounds too, giggling with excitement.
Grandma continues, “We don’t speak of this ghastly legend anymore,” she pauses, staring down at all of us, concern in her eyes. “Because it’s cursed” her eyes grow big as the last word darts from behind her teeth with a hiss. I look above me, everyone is listening intently now. The comedic gasps and ooooo’s have died down.
“You see,” she continues, “it all occurred right here. Right on our land. Our home. Where many of you sleep at night,” she eyes each of my cousins who live here on the land.
They look at each other and one shoves another. “You better watch out, man.”
I raise up on my tiptoes, trying to see everyone.
“You’ve heard about the man who dug the pond out?” she raises her eyebrows, shifting the eerie shadows on her face.
We nod.
“He dug it out, foot by foot. Filled it with water, allowed it to flourish with fish, plants, and toads. He took diligent care of it too.” She eyes us. Then shifts her gaze beyond us, toward the pond, examining it silently in the dark. “Then one day, when he was trudging along the pond in his rubber boots, a giant lily pad sprang from the murky water and yanked him down deep into the belly of the pond!” She bangs her walking stick on the last words.
We gasp.
“Pulled so deep into the mud,” she continues in an eerie voice, “so deep—” she pauses, her eyes seem caught on something far behind us. They narrow a bit before she aims them back at us, “so deep that he became the pond!”
More gasps.
“His eye…” my uncle, the rich one, the flashy one, yells from the back, “it’s devil-red and out there on a long slimy, lily pad!”
“Exactly,” Grandma hisses, “it took him so fast he couldn’t even yell for help.” She slowly shakes her head, “that’s not all there was. This is the part we don’t talk about because,” she pauses, staring at each of us. “Because once you hear of it, it’ll haunt you for eternity” her voice whispers and hisses. “Never leaving your thoughts. Never letting you feel safe.”
Next to me Scott lifts his hands to his bandana, tugging it down over his ears.
Grandma’s eyes again narrow at something in the distance near the pond. I twist my head around, but all I see is Steven’s sternum. I turn back toward her, watching her face. She pulls her eyes away and then quickly reaffixes them on the pond. Her eyes grow bigger. Above me Steven twists and looks toward the pond, so does everyone else.
My breath catches in my throat. I turn my head towards my cousins, watching their faces for indication of what’s going on out there.
Grandma pulls her eyes away from the pond and then squats down on the decaying floorboards. She don’t weigh a thing but they groan under her. She places her face near us so that her mouth is right above me. “After all these years, the man was able to reform himself.” She hisses. “But his new form is ghastly.” Her voice is growing terser and sharper. “His DNA has been altered due to how much time he spent in the ponds ominous, toxic, aquatic environment.”
My eyes grow big, and I hear someone gasp. Toxic, ominous, aquatic environment, the words roll around my head.
“He’s lonely, there at the bottom of the pond. And he’s been looking for a family of his own. To turn innocent people into creatures like him and live in the bottom of the pond!” She shrieks the last part as she quickly glances at the pond and then back down.
I stifle a yelp.
“Now that your ears have heard the legend, he’ll get you if you go near that pond!” The words are hoarse and jarring as they fling from her long, thin throat. “You’ve been warned! He already tried to take your Daddy!” I gulp as her skinny finger points directly at me.
“Who will get us?” one of my uncles’ yells from the back.
My head snaps toward his voice. Grandma abruptly raises and stares us all down. Moments pass as the question hangs in the air. Then her eyes narrow at the pond behind us before suddenly growing bug-eyed in terror.
Her throat screeches, “the pond monster!”
She swoops the flashlight beam over us. It darts erratically through the misty air. A loud snarl erupts from somewhere behind us and screams slice through the heavy air.
“The pond monster is here!” Grandma’s voice wails desperately over the shrieks.
I hold my breath, searching for the source of the snarl. A large, wet, green-glowing creature, with a nest of lily pads on his shoulders emerges from the darkness. He runs toward us, snarling and kicking up dirt. My cousins scatter, their screams clatter together against the chilly, open air.
“Run!” Grandma cries over the shrieks.
My chest pounds. I slip into the shadows under the deck of the barn, ignoring the snake nest that must be nearby. I keep my eyes locked on the pond monster. I been lookin for you. The snarling thing chases one cousin, then gives up and goes after another one, zig zagging and kicking up dirt as lily pads leap from it like spent ammunition. It nears one of my uncles, the youngest one, the biggest one, and he collapses to the ground, a painful scream erupting from his throat.
“Run!” Grandma hollers again.
My uncle, now rolling on the ground under the looming pond monster, suddenly begins to laugh, choking on his screams.
He rolls over, grabbing his knee. “Owwww, I think I really twisted my kneecap.” His face is red.
Momma makes her way over to him. The camo-clad pond monster, suddenly heaving with laughter, pulls the lily pads off his head, revealing mucky blond hair. Daddy. I slip out from under the barn as my cousins regroup nearby.
“As you can see,” Grandma announces, “that’s not really the pond monster.” There’s still a hint of urgency and alarm in her voice and everyone gets quiet again. Grandma stares briefly at each of our faces. I watch her eyes dart back and forth over the face of my cousin. In real life she’s a cheerleader but tonight she looks like Little Red Riding Hood. She giggles and then quickly covers her mouth with her hand. Grandma shifts her eyes to me.
Then finally she yanks the light beam into the mouth of the barn, “He’s here!”
The beam lands on a man sitting stiffly in a chair, a single large, dripping lily pad is draped over his shoulders. We all gasp, even Momma.
“He can’t speak,” she says flatly. “The pond still has his tongue.”
The man doesn’t move. There’s a cowboy hat pulled low over his face. But he has on Grandpa’s worn jeans and Grandpa’s old, dirty work shirt, and even at the ends of his sleeves are Grandpa’s gloves. Those clothes were in the barn yesterday. I saw them. My heart thuds. That’s Grandpa. I scan the crowd around me, counting one, two, three uncles and Daddy. They’re all here. So that’s gotta be Grandpa. My eyes shift back over to the seated man. I grab Momma’s elbow and look up at her, a large smile on my face. I point. Do you see who that is, Momma? No words leave my mouth. I look back at Grandpa. She must know who that is. Everyone must know. It’s not the pond man. It’s Grandpa playing a joke. He’s here. He’s finally come out of the barn and let everyone see he’s still here.
I motion to Grandma, looking up at her with big eyes. I point at Grandpa, but I still can’t speak.
Grandma chuckles, “You can go up to him if you want.”
My cousins are cautious, standing so far back. But that’s him, y’all. My mouth stretches wide as I try to climb onto the barn deck. I lift my leg up as high as I can and try to pull myself up. I can’t do it very well right now though because I’m shakin’ a bit like I’m cold but I’m not really that cold. I feel one of my cousins boost me up onto the deck. I don’t even know which one it was because my eyes are locked on Grandpa. I get up and glance back at everyone watching me. Grandma laughs, “if you want to touch him you can, baby.”
I nod and turn back to Grandpa.
He’s sitting so still. I look back at Grandma. She motions for me to go ahead. I step forward and reach for his gloved hand, hovering just above it, hoping he’ll raise his head and smile at me. There’s still no reaction from him. I grasp his gloved hand, feeling the coarse leather rub against my cold fingers. It collapses in my grasp. Hollow. Nothing there. I look at his bulging chest and notice the rough outline of hay sticking out of his dingy, button-down shirt. I peer under his cowboy hat, tipping it back a little. It’s just a tan colored work shirt stuffed on top of a lump of hay with black marker drawn for mouth and eyes.
My cousins laugh and cheer, realizing its a dummy. I look back at Grandma and she chuckles. “It’s just a dummy, baby. Nothing to be scared of.”
The bottom of my eyelids are heavy, but everyone is laughing so I laugh too. I quickly wipe the wet away as I run back to the edge of the deck and jump down next to Momma.
“Were you scared?” She asks me with a surprised look on her face.
“Yea, Momma, I just thought it was the pond man,” I say, laughing wildly.
He’s not here.
She laughs. “There’s no pond man, honey. No pond monster. None of that. Your Daddy and uncles just wanted to have a big, scary Halloween this year.”
And she laughs more so I laugh more too.
Subscribe for Chapter 03.
So colorful. Chapter 1 and 2 have featured an awesome narrator. I love the distinguishing traits of each uncle!