I’m your stereotypical southern boy, I’m not racist, no I’m not homophobic, far from it really. But point is, when you think of the south and boys mixed you think of some kid in overalls and a fishing rod. That’s me. I used to go fishing with my family on the Rouge river in Louisiana, usually with my grandpa and dad. They would argue a lot, about what I couldn’t tell ya’, but the one time they would shut up was fishing with me.
One night in, oh late 2008. We went fishing at around 11:00pm, trying to catch the big boys. We fished for a while, until 2am I think, before my dad left to take a piss in the woods, he finished and told us he was gonna go for a walk. My grandpa went with him so I was on my own. I kept fishing for about an hour.
“Man, papa and pops have been gone for a while. Maybe I should call em.” I said as I pulled my iPhone that I had gotten from my mom for my birthday, out of my pocket. I called my dad. No answer.
I put my phone down and put my rod on the dock. I walked over to the path they said they were going down.
“PA! POPS! WHERE ARE YA!?” I yelled cupping my hands over my mouth and walking down the path, then jogging, then running.
I heard a deep raspy voice from behind one of the trees. “Catch any fish?” It said.
Thinking it was pops I turned around to see a man in fishermen’s gear and a long leather coat. He was holding a Winchester rifle, finger on the guard.
“Pops?” I said as I stumbled back, reaching for my hunters knife in my pickpocket.
He grabbed the lever and cocked it back and forth once as walked towards.
“Back up! I said back up! I have a knife and a phone back up!” I yelled as whipped out my knife and typed 911 on the call number screen on my phone behind my back.
The man rushed at me. I heard a small click just to see a bayonet slide out the front of the rifle. He fired a single shot that hit the tree behind me. I fell back and the man tripped over my feet, he hit his head on the tree and I took my chance to throw my knife and run. I heard a screech from the figure as I ran off. I put the phone to my ear.
“911 what’s your emergency?” Said the responder.
“My pa and pops went on a walk, when I came looking for them a man had a rifle and he tried to shoot me, I tripped him and stabbed him, I’m running home, I don’t know if hes behind me!” I said panting
“What’s your address sir?” The responder said clicking keys on her keyboard.
“308 Negra Arroyo Lane.” I said as I rushed towards the door and threw it open.
“We’re going to have the police there soon sir, please stay on the line.”
That was 14 years ago, I was 15.
The other night I was sleeping, my wife and kids out for a mom and kids night. I heard the door open. Groggily I got up and walked over to the door rubbing my eyes. The door was open but they weren’t there.
“Miller? Karen?” I said rubbing my eyes.
“Zach.” I heard a voice say.
That was my pops name.
I turned around to see a man, in a large leather coat & fishing gear on, with a Winchester in his hand
He slid the lever back and said: “Catch any fish?”