“I think I shot it!” said Hilton as he yelled at to his dad. “We best go find it. It could be anywhere around here now. It’s a prize worth getting,” replied Lincoln. As they started to search they noticed many small drops of black blood on the ground and claw marks across the tree that looked as if a bear had hit it.
It was a summer afternoon just like any other. Hilton; a 14 year old boy with blue eyes, short brown hair, and a baseball cap he often wore, was getting ready for his annual hunt with his father Lincoln. He had hunted and killed a dear when he was 13 and was ready to do it again. He was proud of himself and his parents helped him achieve pride as they complimented him on his accuracy and good aim.
“Hilton, come outside and look at this!” Lincoln called out. Hilton ran down quickly to see why his father was yelling at him so dramatically. He handed Hilton a newspaper with the words, “Small pets and other animals found dead with slashes across them and mangled fur as if being eaten. Please keep inside any animals and beware of this animal.”
“What do you suppose it is dad?” asked Hilton in shock. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna find it. I bet you we could make a fine dollar off this animal,” said Lincoln with much confidence. “I’ll see you in the truck dad,” replied Hilton.
Hilton quickly put on his boots and headed outside the door. As he exited the house on the small farm they owned, he noticed something at the corner of his eye that was quite strange. A slash had been made on their barn. The slash was about 3 ft long and came in what seemed like 4 claws hitting at once. He looked down to see a mangled chicken with fur plucked. “Holy-” Hilton paused his sentence as his father rushed over to him.
His father looked at the scene of what Hilton discovered. “This is definitely not a coyote,” said Lincoln. “Do you think maybe that creature had done this?” asked Hilton. “If it had, it’s gone now. Come on son, I have the guns packed in the back of the truck.” They went to the truck and drove off down the gravel road.
Fifteen minutes had past and they finally reached their destination. It was a forest with much shade and looked like any other forest. The fog was thick that day and a little hard to see through but Hilton and his father pressed on anyways as they parked their car by a tree near the road. “The ground is really moist today,” said Hilton as he got out of the truck. Lincoln grabbed a bag with their hunting guns and ammo and they headed off down a dirt path. After about two minutes of walking they finally reached a small deer tower.
As they climbed up the tower shook a little but was still sturdy. Hilton and his father unpacked the bag and they both got their guns out. After about five minutes of silence and waiting Hilton saw something run across the foggy ground in great haste. Hilton wanted to tell his father what he had seen, but knew they both had to be quiet so they wouldn’t scare it off.
A few minutes passed and Hilton saw it again. This time he got a clearer view. What he saw was a skinny thing that looked as if it had not eaten in days. Two yellow eyes with a bushy blackish mane around a bare bald head. It had the snout of what seemed like a wolf, but was so foggy it was hard to make out. It stood still as if it had heard something move in the distance, then without haste, Hilton aimed his gun, and let out a bang and a souring bullet right at the creature.
“I think I shot it!” said Hilton as he yelled at to his dad. “We best go find it. It could be anywhere around here now. It’s a prize worth getting,” replied Lincoln. As they started to search they noticed many small drops of black blood on the ground and claw marks across the tree that looked as if a bear had hit it.
They soon lost track of the blood and both had given up on the sight they encountered. The only thing they found from search was a small patch of fur. They went to their truck and headed home. “It’s sad we didn’t catch it,” said Hilton with much sadness in his voice. “You shot it, so that counts for something.”
They finally returned home to the small barn they lived in. “I guess mom is not home yet,” said Hilton. “She is probably still working, I’ll start supper, please get the dishes set,” replied Lincoln. An hour had passed and it was now dark. They were both eating hamburgers peaceful until they heard the sound. It was a high pitched sound of what could’ve made anyone cover their ears in pain.
The screaming stopped and they both uncovered their ears and rushed outside. They saw nothing but a destroyed chicken coop now with dead chickens. “What was that!?” exclaimed Hilton. Just then they look to where the woods started in the backyard, and all they saw was a large hand with long fingernails being pulled in.
Hilton and Lincoln never saw the creature again, but tried to persuade other residents of Tennessee that what they saw was real. No one believed them of course, and when they showed them the fur, they simply stated they probably got it from a cow or some other animal. Hilton stayed awake at night knowing what he saw was real for many years after, but now even he doesn’t know if what he saw was just a dream…