I won’t say my name or where I’m from as it won’t really make a difference to my story. I am an avid golfer (though not terribly good) and twice every week myself and my friends go out for eighteen holes.
It all started when on a sunny Saturday evening my friend was teeing off on the 4th hole. He blazed it about 140 yards left and into a sand bunker. After all the mocking and laughing we all set off toward our balls to hit our second shot. I found my ball below a tree, my second friend , I’ll just call him Steven, found his on the rough and finally my third friend Ryan found it next to a very peculiar sight. It was a bird , or whatever was left of it.
It was a rather small black bird and both it’s eyes had been torn out along with all feathers around its head. One foot was hanging at a horrific angle and just enough bone was sticking out to make our stomachs churn. We were all shocked of course and, after talking in a panicked tone to one another, we came to the conclusion to call the animal authorities (who’s station had recently moved within two kilometers of the course). After telling them what we had seen they decided to make a visit to see all the fuss for themselves.
Within 20 minutes, the scruffy, old man and his rather plump assistant arrived at the scene. Within about ten seconds of seeing the unfortunate little creature, they came to the conclusion that no animal living around here could have caused such injuries and all three of us had came to the same conclusion 20 minutes ago (Some help). We get many predatory creatures around our course (Stray dogs, cats, foxes, etc) but nothing would like that could leave the animal in such a state. After the animal authorities took it away along with them in a bright blue van that had a green logo of a tree on its side, we all decided to call off our round for the night and go home.
I hopped into bed less than an hour later and all through the night the image of the poor little critter played in my head.
Jump forward less than two weeks and I’m back on the same hole with only myself. After hitting an absolute howler over 200 yards down the fairway and giving myself a metaphorical pat on the back, I found my ball next to massive divot (or dent in the ground) It took me a couple seconds to figure out what I was stating at. It was a tiny mass grave with all different kinds of birds and other creatures (rats and such) all found in the same condition as the first we found. I threw up on the spot and scrambled for my phone in my golf trolley thinking “WHAT THE FUCK” and I rang the animal authorities once more.
It was the exact same process, those two strange individuals took the creatures and took off in their blue van. After both of those two strange interactions, I began to think has happened more than twice. That thought alone made question the course I played on all my life and without question I had to find out what or who was doing this. I decided to head home and after some thinking I made the decision to grab a tent like structure I often used for my second hobby fishing. I set up shop on the fourth hole after 10 pm and set up shop in the hope I might figure something out.
Within the hour I heard a strange noise just behind my structure. I got up and switched on the torch on my iPhone. Before me stood a huge man in an green hoodie with a baseball cap on his head. At a first glance he seemed like a regular drunk that stumbled on to the course by mistake but then he looked at me. When I saw the expression on his face I knew I stumbled upon the FUCKING devil incarnate. His eyes peered into my very soul and the grimaced smile shone back at me with yellow teeth. In his arms he carried the emaciated corpse of a dog, just like all the others.
Within a couple seconds he scampered up the hill and I gave chase. Although, he seemed to know the course better than I because he lost me in the dim light. After a couple minutes I gave up chase and I cursed myself, grabbed my tent and went home. I never told the police for some reason I can’t remember, almost questioning my sanity after what I had seen.
A couple of months later I had almost forgotten about the incidents. I was walking by the animal authorities station as it was along my favourite walking path and at a glance I saw the reminants of that green hooded man getting into a silver BMW. Somewhat in shock (or for some other reason) I stumbled into the station and that scruffy old man asked me what I was doing. I responded to that with another question, “Do you know who drives that BMW ?”.
His response still shocked me to my core, “He’s my son and he owns the golf course. Why?”
I haven’t been anywhere near the course since that day, but I’ve always peered in through the fence, looking for a man in a green hoodie and a baseball cap.