River Monster

 

I am a keeper of the river. The Big Sandy flows behind my home and has for the 50 years that I've been on Earth. My grandmother taught me signs and portents. She taught me that if the birds hide in the trees during a rain that it will be a short rain, but if the birds are feeding in the rain, then it's going to rain a while. When the wind blows and you can see the back of the leaves, that a rain is coming. She also taught me something else. She taught me to believe dogs. For when a dog barks at nothing, he always sees what we cannot see. She taught me about a creature she called the River Monster. On moonless nights, she is silent, yet I can hear her. I can hear her in my soul. The fog rolls in on the river as white waves crashing on a distant beach. Black birds noisily seek their nightime home in the trees that hang low over Big Sandy as yellow eyes search for their next meal, the taste of blood fills each black heart. Vermin. The River Monster moves quickly through the sandy soil, causing bugs to skitter into tunnels in the sand and feral cats to squal in terror. The River Monster, as legend goes, feeds once a year around the end of October. A hapless victim, quite possibly a derilict or helpless deer, will fill her craw for a season. So she hunts and I can feel her awakening. My grandmother taught me, to keep me safe. When she hunts, the birds sound different, frantic with worry. The leaves on the riverbank trees will suddenly start to fall like drops of rain in a summer storm. The fog will start as whisps of smoke from a jack-o-lantern pumpkin then move in quickly as a blanket, covering the low brush along the shore. Dogs will bark at nothing. Signs and portents. As I am drawn to the top of the river bank, I know she is down there. Somewhere. It's time. Driven by a natural longing to feed, to satisfy her needs. The hairs on the back of my neck are signals of dread and fear. She is silent, yet I hear her. I also hear my grandmother's voice, "Be careful! One false move and you're next, my dear." Terror fills my soul as I search, for I have a longing to witness her beautiful horror, yet she eludes me. The fog is thick, rising upward from the water. Spiders have slung their webs from tree branch to tree branch and I can feel that I am wrapped in their stickiness, yet I continue on to my unknown reward. Sudden cat shrieks fill the cold night air and I feel the need to retch. Hoot owl warnings remind me of the question of "who" as in "who will be next". The darkness covers me in goose bumps, and envelopes me in his arms, yet I feel a thousand eyes on me. Two of those eyes are bulging and yellow, and staring straight at me. Stumbling down the hill, my movements quick and without any sense of direction, I find myself in her presence. Sheer terror and dread fill my God fearing soul, I know I have come too far, too close. Quick, ragged breaths are upon my neck, rage and hunger and desire are pouring toward me from black, souless heart. So I ran. I ran for my life screaming prayers to Heaven above for help, for safety, for freedom. Clawing the ground with nailess fingers, I surge upward on the hill, muscles burning and heart pounding. Terror induced screams fill the night air, coming from deep inside of me. My desire to live fills me with rage and fury and speed and I surge to the top of the dark, dank riverbank. Total exhaustion wraps around me as I reach the safety of my backyard. I cannot move, and I lay there as crickets again begin to sing their night songs. I never did see her, the River Monster that my Granny knew. My mind draws her form in my dreams, or nightmares. But I can feel her, her hot breath and her hollow eyes. She'll feed again next year, but I won't fall prey to her spell, I will not head to the river bank. Always remember this: if you live on the river, likely any river in any small town, stay away from it this time of year. The river holds secrets we do not want to know. And if your dog barks, listen to him.

143You, Vicki Burke Brown, Betty Grey and 140 others

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Encounter

 

Encounter

I am a keeper of the river. The Big Sandy flows behind my home and has for the 50 years that I've been on Earth. My grandmother taught me signs and portents. She taught me that if the birds hide in the trees during a rain that it will be a short rain, but if the birds are feeding in the rain, then it's going to rain a while. When the wind blows and you can see the back of the leaves, that a rain is coming. She also taught me something else. She taught me to believe dogs. For when a dog barks at nothing, he always sees what we cannot see. She taught me about a creature she called the River Monster.

On moonless nights, she is silent, yet I can hear her. I can hear her in my soul. The fog rolls in on the river as white waves crashing on a distant beach. Black birds noisily seek their nightime home in the trees that hang low over Big Sandy as yellow eyes search for their next meal, the taste of blood fills each black heart. Vermin. The River Monster moves quickly through the sandy soil, causing bugs to skitter into tunnels in the sand and feral cats to squal in terror. The River Monster, as legend goes, feeds once a year around the end of October. A hapless victim, quite possibly a derilict or helpless deer, will fill her craw for a season. So she hunts and I can feel her awakening. My grandmother taught me, to keep me safe. When she hunts, the birds sound different, frantic with worry. The leaves on the riverbank trees will suddenly start to fall like drops of rain in a summer storm. The fog will start as whisps of smoke from a jack-o-lantern pumpkin then move in quickly as a blanket, covering the low brush along the shore. Dogs will bark at nothing. Signs and portents.

As I am drawn to the top of the river bank, I know she is down there. Somewhere. It's time. Driven by a natural longing to feed, to satisfy her needs. The hairs on the back of my neck are signals of dread and fear. She is silent, yet I hear her. I also hear my grandmother's voice, "Be careful! One false move and you're next, my dear." Terror fills my soul as I search, for I have a longing to witness her beautiful horror, yet she eludes me. The fog is thick, rising upward from the water. Spiders have slung their webs from tree branch to tree branch and I can feel that I am wrapped in their stickiness, yet I continue on to my unknown reward. Sudden cat shrieks fill the cold night air and I feel the need to retch. Hoot owl warnings remind me of the question of "who" as in "who will be next". The darkness covers me in goose bumps, and envelopes me in his arms, yet I feel a thousand eyes on me. Two of those eyes are bulging and yellow, and staring straight at me. Stumbling down the hill, my movements quick and without any sense of direction, I find myself in her presence. Sheer terror and dread fill my God fearing soul, I know I have come too far, too close. Quick, ragged breaths are upon my neck, rage and hunger and desire are pouring toward me from black, souless heart. So I ran. I ran for my life screaming prayers to Heaven above for help, for safety, for freedom. Clawing the ground with nailess fingers, I surge upward on the hill, muscles burning and heart pounding. Terror induced screams fill the night air, coming from deep inside of me. My desire to live fills me with rage and fury and speed and I surge to the top of the dark, dank riverbank. Total exhausted wraps around me as I reach the safety of my backyard. I cannot move, and I lay there as crickets again begin to sing their night songs.

I never did see her, the River Monster that my Granny knew. My mind draws her form in my dreams, or nightmares. But I can feel her, her hot breath and her hollow eyes. She'll feed again next year, but I won't fall prey to her spell, I will not head to the river bank. Always remember this: if you live on the river, likely any river in any small town, stay away from it this time of year. The river holds secrets we do not want to know of.

And if your dog barks, listen to him.