Frightened Fun

(ROCKWALL, TX – Sept. 29, 2016) We ended the day around the campfire; the pops and sizzles just have a way of making a great day with my boys even better. It wasn’t a profitable hog hunt, but that didn’t matter. A hot meal and some stories would make things right. Darkness settled in, and in the orange flickers we laughed and kidded – that is, until we heard the rustling.

“Dad, what was that?”

Being utterly alone magnified it. Camping in the backcountry is a far cry from a state park. The car pads and water faucets tame the transition into the great outdoors. Folks mill around their tents, kids ride bicycles—but we were in a national forest, the only “bi-peds” for miles, or so we hoped.

The sound grew louder, something or someone moved closer.

When you’re at a state park, people are common, normal; however, if you are alone the deep woods, the last thing you want is a stranger, for you are perfectly normal, and he is absolutely a maniac,

The more I listened, the more it sounded like a maniac.

“You think it’s those toothless guys that drove through today?” one of my boys whispered.

We weren’t the only hog hunters in the woods that afternoon. Several trucks came through hauling loads of pig-chasing pitbulls, but they all just passed by and left, or I had hoped. I grabbed my rifle and a flashlight. My heart thumped in my ears. The noise grew, like it was just yards from the camp. I snuck over to the edge of the hill to look down into the hollow.

“Boys, on three, hit the lights. One…two…THREE!”

They clicked on the flashlights… NOTHING.

Yet, the rustling continued, the footsteps sounded closer than ever and for a split second I began to question my past doubts of ghosts. It just wasn’t possible, or was it? We swung the light back and forth, the creature sounding right on top of us. Then we saw movement, and the light was on it—from behind a tree poked the head of an armadillo. He nosed around in the leaves scratching for dinner. We laughed at ourselves for getting so worked up and returned to the fire for another S’more and some scary tales and the rest of the night we giggled about the crazy armadillo that nearly sent us packing.

There’s just something about fall and a little spooky fun. I’m sure it has to do with Halloween, but it is more than that. It’s just the season; the moon takes on a reddish tint and hangs lower and longer in the sky. There’s a chill in the air that invites a shiver. It’s natural for folks to have a little frightened fun, to relish in a ghost story or a moment that creeps. People crave adventure, a sense of living life to the absolute fullest, even a kind of fun that doesn’t always feel fun at the moment, but in spooky fun, it’s a blast in the retelling.

By Scott Gill of Rockwall, teacher, coach and author of Goliath Catfish. Follow Scott’s blog at puptentpapa.blogspot.com and read his “Front Porch Ramblings” at BlueRibbonNews.com.

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