Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman by Burtness Scott

Author:Burtness, Scott [Burtness, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Horror & Comedy
Published: 2015-06-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

23rd, August, 1896

This journey has taken a most unusual turn.

My Ojibwa guide assured me there is rich trading to be done with French-Canadian trappers near the state’s northernmost border. ‘Many furs,’ he promised, and so I traverse the wild expanse of this Wisconsin, braving its multitude of discomforts in hopes of future riches. While not pleasant, our travels had been uneventful until two nights prior.

We camped near a swiftly flowing stream in a small valley. As I reclined on a bed of fallen leaves and a heavy wool blanket, my mind began to drift. Perhaps, I thought, some industrious fellow could develop this valley. Spacious lodgings, fine dining, a variety of entertainers. A haven for weary travelers such as myself. Drifting on the edge of sleep, I even gave it a name. Wisconsin Dells. It was a pleasant fiction that was cut short by a most unnatural noise.

Imagine, if you will, a hog in passionate search of a carrot in a deep, mud-filled trough. That is the only image that can even remotely do justice to the sound. While I am not perhaps the most stalwart of adventurers, I am still a proud man and refused to cry out. Instead, I lay quietly, cracking my eyes to peer out upon the moonlit expanse of our modest campsite. Expecting a wild animal, I instead saw a child by the water’s edge.

Rising from my makeshift bed, I moved toward the stream and called out softly, “Hello, are you lost?”

As I drew closer, I realized it was no ordinary child. What child wears beaver furs adorned with leaves and pinecones and walks by itself through the woods at night? What child has leathery skin and a full beard? If it was a child, I was suddenly quite sympathetic toward the parents’ decision to abandon it in the woods. Such an ugly creature!

Seeing me, it spoke, but the words meant nothing. Just a collection of sounds like pebbles falling on still water, like rain on a canvas tarp. My confusion must have shown on my face, for the little creature grinned and spoke again in perfect English.

“Hello,” it said. “Only children, simpletons, or medicine men are able to see me. Are you a child?”

It was such a strange question, I couldn’t help but answer.

“I’m Reginald. Purveyor of wondrous curements for dreadful ailments and potent panaceas for persistent pains.”

“Ah. A simple medicine man. So.”

An awkward pause followed before finally I asked, “So, what?”

A twig snapped, and the ugly thing’s bright eyes looked toward the sound.

“I must go, Reginald. Here. Take this.”

It plucked a freshwater leech from its leg and held it out between two grubby fingers.

“It has feasted on my blood. It might help someone. Or not. Just like the rest of your ‘potent panaceas.’”

A spark of indignation was quickly quashed by curiosity. Taking the leech in my shaking hand, I transferred it to a damp leaf, applied a dollop of mud, and wrapped the leech up securely.

“Thank you,” I managed.

“Thank you,” the thing replied before hopping into the water and vanishing beneath the surface.

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