Serving Barnwell County and it's neighbors since 1852
I grew up in a lonely wood. There, darkness always arrived early, as the trees blocked out much of the sun. The shadows lengthened and grasped for me like greedy fingers, and the owls and other noises of the gloom would keep me inside my room, cowering, my candle flickering while I pored over books.
I was a timid child. I always found solace in my books.
One night, the moon blazed silver, and while I read by candlelight I heard a noise that I was not familiar with. It was steady and rhythmic, like rain against a window pane.
Click, clop, clack, clop.
Rattle. Rattle. Creak. Rattle. Rattle. Creak.
Click, clop, clack, clop.
Rattle. Rattle. Creak. Rattle. Rattle. Creak.
Then the sound stopped.
I went to the window and peered out past the gossamer curtain. In the misty haze of the night, I saw the shadowy form of a rider on his wagon, looming in the dark. A horse stood in front of the wagon. I could not see the rider’s face, but I wondered why they were there, and out so late at night. I waited for a long moment, but the figure did not stir. I gathered my coat and headed for the door. Perhaps it was a lost traveler who needed directions, or perhaps they were sick and in need of some kind of relief.
I took with me a lantern and crept out the door. The moon casted a silver chill on me as I walked towards the man on the wagon.
“Hello,” I said. “Are you in trouble? Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
The darkness melted away at the approach of my light and I gasped as I beheld the sight before me. The horse was nothing but a skeleton, somehow mended together so that it could move. Its skull turned towards me and its hollow eyes watched me, a perpetual grin leering at me from its stark-white face. Now I knew what the clicking noise had been.
Then I beheld the driver. First I looked at his hands, black and reptilian like the flesh of a snake, curved into large, sharp claws. I followed his arms up to his face where staring at me was a pumpkin carved with a cackling face. His eyes glowed green as envious flames.
What was this ghastly thing?
He spoke no words, but beckoned with his clawed hand. Against my will, as if enchanted by some spell, I climbed the ladder of the wagon and sat next to him. He cocked his jack-o-lantern head at me, as if he were a dog looking at some peculiar sight. I stared at him in fear, and awe, and wonder.
He reached for my lantern, taking it from my hand, and opened up the glass where the candle flickered pitifully before his horrid face. There was something like a whisper from his carved mouth, and the flame of the candle died.
The only light was the moon.
We started to move, into the forest. Into the dark.
Click, clop, clack, clop.
Rattle. Rattle. Creak. Rattle. Rattle. Creak.
Click, clop, clack, clop.
Rattle. Rattle. Creak. Rattle. Rattle. Creak.
I never saw home again.
