14. Oh my GOD
I grew up in rural Arkansas. I also grew up during a time when lots of family farms were caving in to the pressure of big agricultural industries and selling off loads of farmland and forest acreage to massive companies that wanted to develop our little area into a mega feedlot (which has largely happened).
When I was in 9th or 10th grade, that new, clearcut style of ag development finally made its was to within a couple of miles of our house. And it was awful. We didn’t have any close neighbors, and we were the only house on our route for probably ten miles in either direction, so it felt very violating to have this development slowly work its way up our road to our house over the course of a couple of years. But, once spring arrived, those new clear cut expanses exploded into fields of tall grasses and brambles, and fireflies loved them. Our place is along one of several bayous that converge into a wide, mossy wetland, so midspring nights are full of light fog that hugs the ground as it rolls away from the wet ground and out into the surrounding forest (and the clearcut fields that replaced it).
Driving home with my friend Patrick one night, we come to a screeching halt on the road as it passes by the border of this new foggy, endless grass field. I have never seen so many fireflies in a single congregation in my life–there must have been millions! And it was truly gorgeous–they would sync up in small groups flashing in unison, then those harmonies would break up, then come back together again, then break up, and on and on.
We watched from the hood of the car for a while and eventually decided we had to go walk out into the field to see the light show from the inside. It was an amazing experience walking through them, and we walked for probably a good two kilometers to about the midpoint of this particular clearcut. Grasses were damp and about mid-chest tall, and the fog was only about the same height, rolling in from the east (direction of the bayou) and still thin enough to see through.
We freeze for a moment when we see the grass tops swaying a bit up ahead, but calm down when we realize it looks like a raccoon or armadillo or something is walking around and we’re just seeing its rustling.
Quickly, though, we can see the top of the animal doing it, the flat back peeking through the grass tops now and again: what is that, a huge dog? Surely not, what dog is four and a half feet tall? And it hasn’t got its head popped up over the grasses looking where it’s going. Still, it’s possible? Or maybe a deer, head down and grazing? It’s too far away to really tell–maybe 100 yards from us–and there’s just not enough available moonlight to see details. At this point we get a little nervous about startling an animal, so we move closer together and I clear my throat to make some audible, non-threatening noise. The motion comes to a total stop–again, no head pops up to see what the noise was. Which we find totally freaky and uncomfortable. I feel Pat touch my back, like a quiet nudge, and I take it to mean we should quietly go back to the car. As soon as we start moving a bit, the “dog” or whatever stands up, and it is clearly human-sized and with head full of long hair. Don’t see any clothes. Don’t see anything other than it is now moving toward us, quickly, at a good pace.
Needless to say, we are now running. We run for the 15 or so minutes it takes us to get back to the roadside without making a peep or turning around, because we are both scared as fuck. Jump in the car, slap the locks closed, and then we’re looking back into the field, but nothing’s visible. We ride back home, breathlessly tell my mom, and basically talk ourselves over it again and again for weeks.
I have no paranormal inclinations, but what would a naked, long-haired person be doing rummaging around on all fours in the middle of nowhere Arkansas where there is precisely one road and one house for about a 15 mile radius? Was it some crazy person who was living in the wilderness? That thought scares me more since we spent so much time in tents and deer stands out there over the years. At the time it just made me think about Pet Semetary! I still freak out about going by that place at night when I visit my parents!
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