Trailend is a town that lives up to its name. It’s a sleepy hamlet nestled between the banks of the Tennessee River and the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. During the warmer months, it caters to all types of outdoorsy folks looking to leave civilization behind for a long weekend. A year ago, I was one of those weekend warriors. I couldn’t wait to get lost in the woods for a few days and feel the “restorative healing of mother nature” work its charms on my battered psyche.
Back then, my life was in shambles. I had graduated college with massive student loan debt and few prospects in my chosen field. I applied to every job that fit my degree but couldn’t even land an interview. Needing money, I took a day job to help pay the bills until I could find something more permanent. Six months later, I was still at my day job, and most of my prospects had dried up.
Worse, the stress from my day job was eating my soul. I loved my co-workers, but management – as usual – was the worst. Every encounter, no matter how benign, left you feeling emotionally drained. The daily onslaught of being micromanaged into the ground was enough to make you want to jump out of the building. I’ll give our company credit for one thing – they made the office building windows hard to break and thus saved countless lives.
On top of that, my significant other Charlie and I were at an inflection point. We both were pondering the future, and only one of us was curious if it included the other person. In our best moments, our bickering was playful and fun. Lately, that had all started to curdle into bitterness and anger. Suddenly, my home went from being a refuge to a black hole of suck.
At the time, it felt like my life was darkening, and I wasn’t sure I had a light to see my way out.
Our trip to Trailend was very much needed for a multitude of reasons. I was hoping to not only unwind and relax in the woods but also reconnect. If the trip went well, my relationship had a fighting chance. I didn’t want to think about what lay ahead if things went sideways.
We drove up together in my old beater. Now, I love my car—whom I lovingly referred to as Deep Blue for reasons lost to me – but my better half was not a fan. In fact, they were confident Deep Blue couldn’t handle the drive. I wouldn’t hear it.
Was Deep Blue ugly? Yes, yes, she was. Did she have over two hundred thousand miles on it? Of course, she did. Was she loud and had a constant check engine light glowing? All classic cars do. But I believed in her. Despite my initial confidence, I was worried Deep Blue might not have the umpf needed to push ahead as the roads inclined. Thank God for small miracles. The ol’ girl pulled through.
Our cabin was in the middle of nowhere and looked like it was built during Abraham Lincoln’s lifetime, but it was better than a tent. The interiors of the place were a touch better but not by much. The perk of the place was a big river rock fireplace and a surprisingly comfortable king-sized bed.
The condition of the cabin was a secondary concern for the trip. The real beauty was the view. From the cabin’s front porch, you had a view of a golden valley filled with tall sweet grass that swayed in the breeze. There was a wooden walkway that cut through the grass and led to the banks of the river. It was a sight to behold.
On the opposite side of the valley was a dense piney woods so thick with trees it got dark hours before the rest of the valley did. When the wind blew, you could hear it push through the millions of pine needles, and it sounded like the ocean. If you closed your eyes, you could trick your brain into thinking that you were near the beach. It was the salve I needed to help heal me.
After we brought in everything from Deep Blue and set up the cabin, we thought we should head down into town and grab some supplies. We needed the essentials – chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers – but also, like, real food, water, and beer. I was going to grab a couple of cords of wood for both the fire pit outside and that inviting fireplace. I could already feel the tension melting away. Charlie and I both could.
We stopped at Eddie’s Shack, the local general store, and picked up everything we’d need for the long weekend. It was fun, actually. We joked around like we had at the start of the relationship. Nobody put on airs. We were goofy and lovey and remembered that we still liked one another. If this was a portent of the weekend ahead, I was ecstatic.
Then we met Eddie.
Eddie was straight from small-town central casting. He was older, though how old, who could tell. His salt and pepper hair was tucked underneath a weathered Bass Pro Shop trucker’s hat. He wore a red and black plaid shirt that looked “well worn” with black suspenders pinning it down to his shoulders. Honest to God, when we saw him, he was whittling a block of wood into the shape of an old-timey truck.
“City folk?” Eddie asked without looking up.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
He just laughed. I stole a glance with my partner and rolled my eyes.
“Where you staying?”
“Cabin up near Chimney Valley,” I said.
“Nice spot. You up to fish? Hunt? Camp?”
“Relax,” I said.
“Good place to do that,” Eddie said, finally looking up. “Well, aren’t you two a good lookin’ pair.”
We both blushed a bit. “Thank you,” Charlie said with a smirk, “I think so too.”
“Ever been up this way before,” Eddie asked, finally putting down his whittling and ringing up our supplies.
“Nope,” I said. “First time.”
“Beautiful country,” he said, whistling for emphasis.
“It really is amazing,” Charlie said, “We’re above the Whippoorwill trail. I can’t wait to walk through that field. So many pretty wildflowers.”
“I saw some pictures on Instagram of the fireflies in the field at night,” I added, “I think we should walk down there later and see it first hand.”
Eddie chuckled to himself and shook his head.
“Not as good as advertised?”
“No, it’s pretty enough,” he said, “but if I were you, I wouldn’t go wandering in the valley at night. Not at all.”
“Wild animals,” Charlie offered.
“Things like that but not that,” came the reply.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“You have any idea how old those woods are? That mountain range? Older than Jesus himself,” Eddie said, adding another whistle. “Older than the good lord and deeper and darker than hell itself. Lots of things out there that we don’t know about.”
I looked at Charlie, and my eyes screamed, “We should leave,” but Charlie wasn’t quite ready. I saw that inquisitive look on their face and knew we weren’t going anywhere. Charlie had been hooked by Eddie’s ramblings.
“But you’re only thinking on one thing out there, right?” Charlie asked.
Eddie nodded as he bagged the marshmallows, “Yup. I’m thinking of one specific creature I’d avoid.”
“Are there others you’d invite in for tea?” I asked, trying to bring a little levity to a story that was taking a bleak turn.
Eddie laughed. “Not really. ‘Sides, not a tea drinker myself. I’m more of a bourbon man.”
“What’s the creature,” Charlie asked?
“They come as fireflies,” Eddie said as he put the chocolate bars in the bag, “but they don’t stay that way. That’s how they get around. How they blend in. Once they change, though, hoo boy.”
I wanted to say I don’t remember seeing any monsters on the insta feed but thought the remark would arrive DOA. Plus, I wasn’t sure I wanted to learn more about these creatures or stories about these creatures. I know how my brain works. Later tonight, when Charlie inevitably falls asleep before me, I’ll be stressing about firefly monsters.
“What is it?” Charlie asked again.
Eddie looked up. His lower lip was bumped out from dip – his teeth bore the tell-tale staining of a habitual user. He looked Charlie dead in the eyes and said, “The Maymen.”
“What the hell are the Maymen?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I do know to stay away from them.”
“What do you know?”
“Are they people?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“In a way, yes, and in a way no,” he said. “I hear they look like a person but taller. And their eyes glow green, that’s how they blend in with the fireflies, but that ain’t the worst part.”
We waited with bated breath, but Eddie just handed us our bags and said, “That’ll be twenty-two thirty-five.”
I reached for my wallet, but Charlie knocked my arm down, “Eddie, what’s the worst part?”
“Oh,” he said, “they got long blades for arms, and once they spot you…” He trailed off.
“Do they follow?”
“Oh yes,” Eddie said, spitting into a little Styrofoam cup. “Need to get near a fire to keep them at bay. Or so I’m told. Again, I ain’t never seen one for myself.”
“I wouldn’t want to either,” I said, handing over some cash to Eddie.
“If you got a fireplace in your cabin,” he said, handing me my change, “I’d keep a fire burning just in case. They can’t use doors, but they can come down chimneys.”
“Maybe I’ll take another cord of wood,” I said, handing over a five.
“Have a good one now, okay? Enjoy mother nature. She’s a beautiful woman!”
We hustled out of the store and let Eddie return to his whittling. We stayed quiet for the first ten minutes in Deep Blue, but I knew it wouldn’t last. Charlie was busting at the seams.
“The fuck was that back there?” Charlie finally blurted out.
“Oh man, I have no clue.”
“The Maymen?”
“They come as fireflies,” I said, doing my best to mimic Eddie’s voice.
The review of my attempt was sudden. Charlie blanched and gave me a thumbs down. “That was rough.”
“It’s a work in progress,” I countered.
“You think there is anything….”
“No,” I said before Charlie finished speaking, “they are some backwoods stories designed by bored people to scare tourists.”
“Did it work,” Charlie said, needling me.
“No,” I lied. “I don’t think Eddie is a reliable narrator.”
Charlie laughed. “Probably not. Hey, did you grab some booze back there?”
“Yeah,
why?”
It was Charlie’s turn to mimic Eddie’s voice, “Ain’t much of a tea drinker myself. I’m a bourbon man.”
I glanced over at Charlie and nodded. Yes, the impression was spot on. Of course, it was. It ALWAYS is. Charlie laughed. I did too. It was nice.
We got back to the cabin with some daylight still left. I wanted to get an early jump on dinner, but Charlie wanted to hit the trail before it got dark. “You don’t want to walk in the river?”
“I do, but dinner…”
“Will be here when we get back.”
“Should I start a fire?”
“Prep a fire,” Charlie countered, “and let’s hope the Maymen leave your carefully balanced wood alone.”
“So, so funny,” I said and went about setting up the fire in the fireplace. It was a smart idea to get this prepped. The walk through the valley to the river was longer than Charlie thought, and we’d both be starving by the time we got back. Every little time saver helped avoid “hanger” taking hold.
There was a wooden staircase from the cabin’s property that led down about fifty stairs to Chimney Valley. The landing at the bottom is split into three different trails. The most popular and longest was the Whippoorwill Trail. It was a raised boardwalk that zigzagged through the tall grass and flowers of the valley and deposited you to the banks of the Tennessee River.
The walk was stunning. As you descend the stairs, you can smell the valley below you. The rush of the river is audible from so far out. And that noise mixes so well with the calls of birds and buzzing of bees. The valley was blooming, and countless wildflowers of different colors were all around us. You were surrounded by life, and it was mesmerizing.
We got down to the river and dipped our toes in. The water was freezing, so we decided to try to tackle a swim tomorrow. We sat at the water’s edge and just talked and connected with one another. It was what I needed. It was what I craved.
It was also time-consuming. Before we realized it, the sun had started to set. We really didn’t want to hike up those stairs in the dark, so we started back towards the cabin. Despite our best efforts, I assumed the night would catch up with us. When the sun sets behind the woods, it gets dark almost instantly. I couldn’t help but think of Eddie telling us these woods were “deeper and darker than hell itself.”
By the time we were halfway home, it was clear we’d be doing most of this hike in the dark. It was okay, though, because the valley was just as beautiful in the evening. A wind picked up, and the tall grass around us rolled like ocean waves in the breeze. There were more stars overhead than I had ever seen before. You could still hear the rush of the river, constant and calming. Charlie and I held hands and slowly walked along the boardwalk.
“This feels like a dream,” Charlie said.
“I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”
“We needed this,” Charlie corrected.
“We needed this,” I echoed.
We slowed our pace and just enjoyed being with each other. Charlie rested their head on my shoulder, and we strolled along the boardwalk. I couldn’t see the stairs, but I knew we were getting close. The thought of climbing old, rickety wooden stairs in the pitch black was not appealing.
“Look!” Charlie yelled, pointing out into the grass. “Oh my god, there are so many of them!”
I turned and saw the glowing lights of fireflies all around us. Green and yellow lights winked in the darkness. There must have been thousands. It instantly transported me to my childhood. I spent summers on my grandparent’s farm in the country, and, at night, I’d stare out at the pastures as the fireflies arrived. I put my arm around Charlie and gave a squeeze.
“This is incredible,” I said softly.
“I’m so glad we came down here tonight.”
“Me too.”
“I gotta get a picture,” Charlie said, pulling out a phone. “Get close, and I’ll get a selfie with the fireflies in the background.
“For the ‘gram?” I said sarcastically.
Charlie ignored me, held up the phone, and snapped a photo. Unfortunately, the auto-flash was on, and the burst of light nearly blinded us.
“Ahh,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Charlie said, trying to sound sincere but also laughing, “that was dumb of me.”
“Auto-flash off,” I said.
“Sorry,” Charlie said, switching auto-flash off. “I’ll put it on night mode, so it’ll get everything, but you have to stand still for a few.”
“I’ll manage.”
We tried again, and this time, we weren’t blinded by the light. Charlie pulled up the photo and gave a little squeal of approval. “Look at how many fireflies there are!”
I took the phone and looked at the photo. We were surrounded by fireflies all around us. It really was an incredible photo. I always admired just how good Charlie was at taking photos. Even though it was just a selfie, Charlie managed to get so much depth to the shot.
I was about to return the phone when something in the photo caught my eye. I zoomed in on the space between Charlie and me and felt my body freeze. There were two fireflies between us in the shot. Or, I thought they were fireflies. On closer inspection, they were eyes.
Someone was standing on the boardwalk behind us.
I didn’t want to say it out loud, but I needed to tell Charlie. I pulled up the memo pad and started typing. Charlie was confused.
“Hey, I was going to post it to Insta,” Charlie said.
I held up the screen. All I wrote was, “someone is behind us.” In the faint glow of the phone, I saw Charlie’s face go from bliss to horrified.
Charlie took the phone from me and typed, “are you sure?”
I pulled up the photo and handed the phone over. Charlie looked at the photo, and their jaw dropped. The phone started shaking. I grabbed Charlie’s hands and held them. I tried my best to calm us both down.
I leaned in close and whispered, “On three, we run.”
“Okay,” Charlie said, their voice shaking, “is that a Maymen?”
“I don’t want to stick around to find out. You ready?”
Charlie nodded and pocketed the phone.
“Don’t look back. Just run for the stairs, okay? One…two…three!”
We both took off like a rocket. At first, all I heard was our footsteps slapping against the boardwalk, and I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me. Then I heard the high-pitched scream bellow from behind us. I felt it climb up my spine and lodge in my brain.
I’ve never run so fast in my life.
“What the fuck is that?!” Charlie screamed.
“Just run!”
Charlie got to the stairs first and started taking them two at a time. I was worried the weather-beaten stairs might break from us running up them, but it was a secondary concern at this point. From behind us, the creature was gaining speed. Its footsteps were violent when they hit the boardwalk. Worse, something was clearly digging into the wood with each step the monster took. Something sharp, like a knife.
I suddenly remembered Eddie mentioning blade arms.
“Keep going!”
I could feel the entire staircase shaking as we dashed up it. If these steps gave out, we’d be fucked. The only other way out of the valley was the river. That way was blocked now. I was about two-thirds of the way up when Charlie reached the top.
“Hurry up,” Charlie pleaded.
“Go inside the cabin,” I yelled, “I’m right behind you!”
Charlie waited a second and then took off. I was nearing the top of the stairs when I felt the stairs shake below me. I looked back and saw those green eyes staring up at me. The Maymen screamed again, and I put my hands over my ears to muffle the noise. It was like it was piercing my brain.
The moon came out from behind a cloud, and, in a fleeting second, I saw the light reflect off the arms of the creature. Eddie hadn’t been mistaken. The creature had blades for arms. I watched as they dug into the wooden stairs and helped the Maymen launch up four stairs at once.
It was time to move.
I tore ass up the last few steps and reached the top in a flash. Charlie was standing in the cabin’s doorway, pleading for me to hurry. I could hear the Maymen launching up more stairs and knew we had limited time.
I ran over to Charlie, who was frantic at this point. I slammed the door behind us and locked it. I glanced around the room and saw the big bed. That would block anyone from opening the door.
“The bed,” I said, and Charlie knew exactly what I had planned. We dragged that big bastard in front of the door and pressed against it. We were bracing for the Maymen to crash into the cabin.
“What the fuck is happening?” Charlie asked.
“I dunno. But we’re safe inside.”
“Are we?”
“I have to believe that,” I admitted.
When the Maymen reached the top of the stairs, it bellowed again. We both covered our ears. The scream echoed across the valley. I had a hard time believing everyone in Trailend didn’t hear it.
We waited for the creature to start battering the door, but nothing happened. I glanced up from behind the bed and looked through the windows to see if I could spot the creature. I didn’t see anything. I knew it was out there, but where was it?
Suddenly, I heard something THUMP on the roof. It had launched itself up there, but why? Why not take the… Then I remembered what Eddie said about chimneys.
“It’s going to come down the chimney,” I said out loud to myself.
“Fire,” Charlie said.
“I need a lighter. Gimmie a lighter.”
Charlie fished in their pockets for a few seconds and pulled out an old zippo. I snagged it and made my way to the fireplace. Above me, I heard the Maymen struggle to find it’s footing on the slanted roof, but it was clear where they were heading.
When I got to the fireplace, I remembered that I had set up a fire already. I started laughing at my dumb luck. My hands trembled as I tried to flick the wheel on the zippo, trying to get a flame going.
“Come on, come on!”
The Maymen reached the top of the chimney and let out another yell. I was so scared that I dropped the zippo. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I said, scooping
it back up and frantically spinning the flint. It would spark, but no flame caught.
“Fucking light already, you piece of shit!”
I heard the blade arms dig into the river rock at the top of the chimney. The Maymen would be inside the cabin in a matter of seconds, and we had blocked off the only way in and out.
My heart raced. I could feel my blood rushing in my veins. My fingers desperately tried to coax a flame out of the zippo. I could hear the Maymen push its large body into the chimney. I’d be face to face with it in an instant.
“Come on!” Charlie yelled.
“I’m trying!”
I could hear the blades dig into the rock and the massive body inch forward. The Maymen screamed again, and I could feel the sound waves blast my hair back. A trickle of blood came out of my left ear, but I ignored it.
I pressed down hard on the wheel and spun it so hard it left the gear-like indention in my thumb. But it worked. The spark finally caught. I had a flame. Just as I saw the tip of the blade reach the fireplace opening, I dropped the zippo into the “instant start” hay kindling and watched the fire ignite.
The Maymen screamed again, but this wasn’t the same as before. It was in pain. The blade retreated, and I heard the body start to shuffle up the chimney to escape the growing fire. I heard it reach the top of the chimney again and scream. It dug its blade arms into the roof and launched itself into the darkness of the woods. As quickly as it arrived, it was gone.
I laid back on the ground and started laughing. I didn’t know what else to do. Charlie crawled over to me, and we laid in each other’s arms. We didn’t say a word for the longest time. We just embraced. I knew then that I loved Charlie.
“Think this is what they mean by the restorative healing of mother nature?” I asked.
Charlie started cracking up. I joined in. We laid there for a few minutes more, laughing and coming down from the adrenaline spike. This was not the relaxing trip I had hoped for.
Eventually, as expected, Charlie fell asleep first. I stayed up the rest of the night, feeding the fire and ensuring the light never went out. Sometime around dawn, I dozed off for a spell, but the sunlight streaming through the windows woke me up.
Charlie woke up and stretched out. “We okay?”
“Right as rain,” I said with an exhausted sigh.
“We’re leaving, right?”
“Fuck yes,” I said.
We pushed the bed back in place and packed our bags up. I lit one of the last logs like a torch and opened the door. I didn’t think the Maymen was there, but I didn’t want to be caught off guard either. I felt dumb holding it, but I didn’t care.
“I can drive first,” Charlie offered, and I instantly agreed. I needed to get some real sleep. I could feel the weariness in my bones. I’d be out five seconds into the drive.
Charlie loaded up the last of the bags and slammed Deep Blue’s hatchback door closed. “Think this girl will make it home?”
“I never doubt Deep Blue.”
“You’re the only one,” Charlie said with a wink as they entered the car.
I walked over to the outdoor fire pit to put down my torch when I heard something shuffling at the edge of the woods. I gripped the log tight in my hands. I assumed these creatures only moved around at night, but I had no idea if that was true.
“Start the car,” I yelled over my shoulder.
I could hear Charlie turning the key and the engine struggling to catch. Another turn, and the engine sputtered but did not start. A third time with the same result. Charlie leaned out the window, “Could anything else go wrong?”
That’s when we heard the Maymen scream.
It burst out from the woods in front of me. It arced in the sky, heading right towards me. Time slowed down as the monster descended on me. I heard Charlie yell. I heard the car struggle to start again. I saw the sun reflect off the blade arms that were mere feet from my body. And I saw my reflection in those firefly eyes.
I also remembered I was holding a torch.
As soon as the Maymen was a foot from me, I slammed the torch into its face. The creature screamed and went up like it was soaked in gasoline. It crashed into me, but I kicked it off and scrambled to my feet.
I dashed to the car and slid inside. “Go, go, go!”
Charlie cranked the key. Nothing. Cranked again. Nothing. Cranked a third time. Nothing. “I fucking hate you, Deep Blue!”
I looked in the rear view and saw the Maymen, fully engulfed in flames, steady themselves and try to stand back up. I patted Deep Blue on the dash and whispered, “Come on, girl, for me?”
Charlie cranked the key again, and the engine caught. It roared to life. In a second, Charlie shifted into drive and floored the peddle. We fishtailed on the dirt road, but the tires caught, and we flew down the mountain.
“You’re getting a new car,” Charlie said. “Deep Blue’s had a good run but, fuck.”
“I know,” I answered. “I know.”
We didn’t stop driving for three hours. We both flipped off the “Welcome to Trailend” sign as we drove past. It was safe to say we’d never be coming back.
Against the odds, things improved after the trip. I think when you face death, it helps to put things into perspective. Charlie and I had a long talk and decided we wanted to stay together. We’re still going strong. Work got better, too, once I learned to leave the bullshit at the office. I’m still struggling to find my dream job, but this is America. We’re all struggling.
Last night, after Charlie fell asleep during the movie we were watching on Netflix, I went out on our balcony and watched the city below. The noise of the city isn’t as comforting as the wind through the pine needles, but it has its charms. I took a sip of my beer and let the noise enrapture me.
Then I heard it. A scream. THE Maymen scream. I snapped back up and scanned the area but didn’t see anything. No fireflies. No blade arms. Nothing. Maybe I was hearing things. I must’ve been. I saw it burn. I probably had PTSD from the encounter. Regardless, I went back inside and turned on our propane fireplace. If it came back, I’d finish the job.
I burned you once, I thought, I’ll do it again.