This is a true account of events that transpired when I was a little girl. This event has been with me everyday for about twenty eight years, and I can still picture it like it happened just moments ago. This will be the first time I’ve ever told someone that I don’t know or trust. So, here I go. I’ll try and keep it short and to the point.
Growing up in the hills of North Georgia, I was always prone to seeing things that most people wouldn’t be accustomed to. When I was four I remember seeing wispy grayish figures roaming around my grandparents’ backyard. I saw a man hanging from the rafters of their barn when I was six or so, and those are just two of the main things that I remember, aside from the story I’m about to really get into.
You see my grandparents lived on a farm. It was a small family farm, not a big industry farm. They had chickens, a goat, a couple of horses, a pig and a baby bull. Buster was a calf that we raised with a bottle. He was my grandmother’s and she loved him and her pig Herman, probably more than us kids, but I digress.
It was a hot summer night and all the animals were situated in the barn…all except Buster. This it was rather odd indeed, because Buster loved his stall, and was always the first in the barn, but this night he was out back behind the barn. The back of the barn immediately opens into pasture, the left and right side of the barn were both enclosed with paddocks. The left one was used to break and train local horses, and is there all of this started.
It was around eight, and my grandma was waiting for dinner to be finished when she noticed Buster outside. “Hey honey, can you go check on Buster? It’s not like him to be outside after the sun goes down.” We didn’t know it at the time, but Buster had the right idea.
My grandfather was out of town for a couple of days, so I at seven years old or so, was in charge of keeping up with the animals, you know feeding and watering them. “Sure grandma!” I said before skipping out the back door. Instead of going through the barn, I decided to cut through the nicer paddock on the left, because Buster was standing right behind it.
As I climbed over the fence he bellowed pretty loud. I was halfway across the paddock before he continuously ‘mooed’ looking at me and shaking his head, before his head would turn toward this great patch of briars. Dead and untended to, it was just a random dark thicket of briars and thorns right in the middle of our pasture. My grandfather had said for years he was going to cut it down, but it never happened. It just sat there year after year. Buster was staring and bellowing, tail swishing in aggravation.
That’s when I heard it…
A low growl, so deep it rumbled in my chest, and I was still about twenty five or thirty feet away. My eyes cut from Buster to the briars. That’s when I saw them, two red eyes, about a foot and a half apart. And about three feet from the ground, almost eye level with me. They came a little closer, nearly at the fence. I glanced at Buster, and even in the dark I could see the whites of his terrified eyes. My heart was thundering in my chest, my mouth had gone dry, and I was rooted to the spot.
For a few moments it was like all three of us were stuck in time. No one moved, and no one did anything. After, another growl escaped, and it seemed to have snapped me out of whatever trance I had fallen into. I started to back away. Remember, at this point I was about halfway across the paddock, with the ‘thing’ on the other side. Buster had finally backed away, the feeling of dread and fear too much for him. That was fine, he wasn’t the focus of our visitor’s attention anymore, I was.
By time I got to the first fence, and ready to climb up and over it, the beast was where I had started. In the middle of the paddock. He didn’t climb over the fence, nay nay, he just phased right through it. My feet hit the grass on the other side, and it picked up the speed, bolting toward the fence.
In a panic, I didn’t even wait, I just turned and booked it toward the backdoor of my grandparents’ house. As I did, I could feel the hair standing on the back of neck. I could feel the rancid breath of whatever this demon was, on my arms and back. The squelching sound of slobber and drool plopping to the ground was skin crawling. The stench was horrible, and if I hadn’t been running for my life, I’m sure I would have lost my lunch. It smelled like death and decay, maybe a little sulphur, like rotten eggs.
I was only about a third of the way to the back door, and I knew it in my gut, that I wasn’t going to make it. By this time tears were clouding my vision. I ran with everything my seven year old legs were capable of. Still, I knew it wasn’t enough. With every step it was getting closer, the growls were getting louder. The warmth of its breath was getting hotter.
About halfway across the yard, I ran by the security light. It stood on a tall pole, and rather than being motion sensored, it was on a timer. About five minutes on every half an hour or so, then the rest of the time it was off. As I was running that amazing light came on, drowning the surrounding area in a perfect circle. As soon as the light hit the creature, it snarled and hissed, steam rolling off of its back, as if the rays hurt it. It scrambled out of the light, but didn’t go far, beginning a waiting game.
It was obvious it couldn’t go in the light. Still, even with the added lumination, I couldn’t make it out very well. It was like the creature was steeped in shadows, only fleeting glimpses of the monster beneath were ever seen. It was like a nightmare come to life. The boogeyman in my grandma’s backyard. I backed my way to the other side of the tall pole, closer to the backdoor. I was about fifty feet away. The porch light was on, and I could see my grandma in the kitchen. I tried calling for her, yelling, screaming, and it was like she couldn’t hear me.
I was still crying a moment later, knowing that time was running out. That was when I noticed the creature. Oh, it was smart. Being careful of the light it was creeping around the diameter of the prominent circle, intent on hemming me in, cutting me off from the farmhouse. Without another thought, and all disregard to the safety zone, I took off. I pumped my little legs as fast as I could go. I was crying, my breath was coming in ragged draws, and I could feel it on my heels. I made it though. Without a moment to spare, I made it into the light on the back porch. I banged on the door, because for some reason it was locked. I was outside begging my grandma to open it, when snarling and snapping came from the shadows and I’m sure that the monster would have pushed into the light if it could.
What felt like an eternity passed before my grandma finally opened the door. Silence…the monster was gone. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I could tell, it was gone. My grandmother stood in the doorway asking me why I didn’t come in, and I tried to explain, but she shook her head. The door hadn’t been locked, it just wouldn’t open for me. That monster tried everything it could to get me. I was still upset, and I told my grandma the whole story, and of course she didn’t believe me..
A few things that cinch this in my mind as real and not part of my very vivid imagination are..
The smell, how does one make up a smell that they’ve never smelled?
And the kicker…when I went to my room to change for bed. I took my shirt off, and it was ripped. Three little slashes, as if something tried to grab me.
The final reason came a couple of days later when my grandpa came home. When I told him what happened. He didn’t tell me I was crazy. He just told me that my uncle had buried his dog in that briar patch a few months before. He had crawled into the center and used a hand trowel, cutting and scratching himself quite a bit, but dug a hole and buried his 100 lb Rottweiler.
I swear to you that was not a Rottweiler, but to this day my family believes I saw the ghost of my uncle’s dog…I still believe it was a demon.
What do you think?
Thank you for staying with me through this. Telling this story took a lot out of me, but I’m happy that I did it. Relieved anyway…
But…
Sometimes, I wonder if it’s still there..Sometimes, I feel this overwhelming need/urge to go back. Let’s hope I have the strength to stay away. I don’t think I would survive another incident.