The Spooky Tale... The Field
Don't be so serious all the time. Leave the dumbbells on the rack and your running shoes by the front door. It adds so much to your wellness to briefly get away from it all and have some fun with escapist entertainment. I give you my tale of terror just in time for this scariest month:
We were late and it was dark. We could have ridden our bikes down those three long streets but it would have taken far too long. We couldn't have risked being grounded again.
We paused momentarily as the leaves rustled on the ground from the crisp October breeze. Meanwhile that full moon had cast a ghostly spell of luminescence on all of us. I remember seeing the fear on my friends faces as I said, "It's gonna be quicker; let's cross the field."
It was well known throughout our town. No one crossed the field at night. Especially not after IT happened here on that notorious night years ago.
And this night had not been just any night. It was an evening only days before Halloween. And this particular date was said to be the anniversary of when it happened.
We were ten years old and we were almost men. We were all together and too old to believe in ghost stories. We decided to do it.
We rode. It was only half a mile to cross. And then something happened. One of our tires hit an unknown object and went flat. The noise of the exploding tire was like a demon being released into the chilly air. Everything seemed to stop except for our pounding hearts and our racing thoughts.
We couldn't leave anyone alone in this place. We had made some headway across that forbidden land. We convinced ourselves it was just a strange coincidence with the tire incident. Yup. Just a strange coincidence. Slowly, we walked our bikes together as our eyes darted over the darkened landscape.
Then we saw it. A shadowy figure moved toward us. We ran with our bikes to the wooded area next to the field. We hid behind some bushes and looked out. It wasn't there anymore. Where did it go?
And then we heard it howl. A coyote? A wolf? We looked in all directions. There only came silence.
After many moments of frozen fear, we felt it. Something hit one of our heads. We screamed and ran with our bikes. We needed to get out of the field.
I hit the ground and my face was covered in dust. It got inside my mouth and so help me it tasted like death had entered me.
The guys helped me to my feet and the eerie smell of retreat wafted heavy over us. We ran with those bikes all the way down those streets back to our neighborhood.
We arrived home late and got in trouble. It didn't matter. We made it safely back and were alive.
We've often wondered. Had our senses been heightened from our fear that night? Or was it something sinister we experienced just like we were told when it happened on that fateful night years before. We will never know for certain.
To this day, the three of us have never again tried at night to cross…the field.
Happy Halloween and beware THE FIELD in your life during this spookiest of seasons!
This fright night is brought to you by that guy with cauldrons of creepy cackles. That maestro of monsters guy is Ron Blake and he can be found haunting the streets at firstname.lastname@example.org.