You know, this is like the sole reason I got an account? Just to make this post. Anyway.
When I was little in Connecticut, there was a very old garden, overgrown, in the woods behind my house--I lived next to Sleeping Giant, and I could
just walk up any old time. What I'd been told was that was my great-grandmother's project back in the day, and, to me, it was very peaceful and I
loved to go find it and just hang out there among the sunbeams and the vegetation. My family was always very, very
nervous about me being out
there, though. Said something about nails in the soil, but the reaction was sheer terror. I can't remember if there was a small family graveyard
nearby or if I'm conflating memories with Ohio. Could be. My memory isn't the best, low-grade abuse and gaslighting and all.
When I lived in Ohio, we had a porch light and a side light, but neither reached all the way out to the field. There was maybe ten feet of yard
between the edge of your vision and the start of the field, and after harvest it was a pretty big vista all the way out to the hill that was in the
middle of the field. So one night in the fall, and this is back when I had my first dog, my dog just goes outside and looks out at the field. Not
defensive, not curious, not playful, didn't have to go, just a little antsy. And so I go outside too, because hell, it's not too cold yet. I stare out
and keep staring, and I swear I see something, and then it comes into focus: two red eyes in the field, at the edge of the light, low to the ground,
but I don't remember them being low enough to where it would make sense for a coyote. And they're noisy, and run in packs, and stayed on the other
side of the road, around the old railroad bed. Now that I'm older I'd say bear-height. But # if I'm going to go and figure out what the hell it really
is. That side light stayed the # on, too.
Not particularly spooky, but when two guys in a Ford van pull into your driveway at 11:30 PM and don't stop to go to the house but just go straight to
the equipment shed you get a special kind of angry-scared.
Also walking your bike past one of the old, packed-full Midwestern cemeteries well past sundown because your legs just do not want to keep pedalling.
When I was in Afg the first time, one of our COPs did 8-hour guard shift rotations on three towers--the other was kind of pointless and got turned
into the ammo dump. One was the north tower, one the south, and on the other side of the compound was the gate, serpentine and guard tower for it to
the actual American side. Now, mind you, when we replaced the losing unit, there was a mechanic left behind to hand over the trucks and one or two of
his joes, and one of the first things he told us was that the towers were haunted, and specifically the story about the ECP, where one of the Afghan
cops had let a suicide vester onto the American side, he didn't get very far, but he wrecked the serpentine and collapsed the tower, killing the kid
in it. Funny story, I actually met back up with him (the sergeant, not the kid) again when I was with a completely different unit. I think it may have
been in Kandahar, not sure any more. Small Army. Anyway, so this ECP tower I pulled the late, late night shift, and the way it was structured it went
to 3 or 4 in the morning, which means I not only pulled sundown but all of the witching hours on a border COP in the boonies of eastern Afghanistan.
And about one-thirty, two o'clock, I hear rustling and scratching, and I figure, god damn it, probably rats somewhere, even though I haven't seen one
yet I know they're there. But I can't see it, it never crosses my vision (and I had my NODs down after that first noise), I keep looking for it, but
no go. And as late as it is, and as bright as it is (it was either full moon or close to one), I both a) figure I should see this damn thing and b) my
mind starts to go haywire. But that's just the stuff that gets me jumpy. What really got me was late, late into this thing, the moon had gone down,
maybe around three, it was pitch dark but for the stars, and I just...I feel someone standing by me. You know how you can kinda tell by magnetic
fields or whatever, and some people are better than others? I'm not too great, but this was strong
, and I don't turn around for the longest
time. I actually don't look back before I key the radio: "Zulu, this is ECP, is SOG out, over?" Because you know, maybe he's #ing with me, but I'm too
goddamn terrified to turn around. "...Negative ECP, he's with me." And so I squeak out a belated "roger", and finally work up the courage to turn to
my side, this thing is over my left shoulder, and there's this. This hole
. I dunno how you would describe it, like it didn't look any different
to my eyes, I guess technically, but I knew where the edge of the not-thing was, I could feel this like sucking
, like where gravity shouldn't
be, and my stomach dropped to my knees, and that knowledge kind of blended into my sight to mark the boundaries of a dude-sized oval. And I just
screamed at it. Not screamed, screamed at
it. Like I was so pissed off that this #ing thing was #ing with me it never occurred to me to keep my
voice down or invoke God or something, I just roared ARE YOU #ING SERIOUS GET THE # OUT OF HERE
and you know, I've never had a supernatural
edit on 13-4-2016 by kam89 because: sidenote
edit on 13-4-2016 by kam89 because: small addition