A long time ago, when I was just a boy living in a small farming town in Utah, I had a night that changed my life forever. I have never slept well since, and I caution you not to read this tale--if you like your rest.
"Thud.". The ball sounded as it hit the side of our house. I bent over, picked it up and hurled it again at the black mark. I would lead my team to another win on Saturday. They could count on me.
The sun was just beginning to set and everyone would be going to sleep. That is everyone but me and Bo. We had night duty in the corn patch, our last one of the year. Boy was I glad. It was really hard to stay up all night, and then go to school. The week before, I had fallen asleep in Mrs. Everson's class. Everyone had tiptoed out of the room and left me there. When I woke up at the sound of the tardy bell, I was sitting in a room full of the wrong kids, and there was a giant 'Shh' on the board. As I dumbly looked around, everyone snickered. Finally, Mrs. Everson said, "Hal, you're excused to go to your next class." I grabbed my books and got out of their as fast as I could.
The corn patch was big, a whole 3 acres. We planted that much corn so we could share it with all the aunts, uncles, and cousins. Tomorrow they would be coming. Everyone would help pick the corn. Then the kids would have to husk it, while the dad's got the water boiling in the giant pots over the fires they had already built. We would fill the boiling pots with as much corn as they could hold. After a few minutes, the corn would be taken from the pots to the cutting tables, where our mom's would stand each ear on a nail and, using a knife, slice the kernels from the cob. When there was a big enough pile, they would scoop it into bags and pop it into the freezer.
We would fill an entire chest size freezer with corn. Then we would share corn with all the neighbors who wanted to come over and feast with us. Everyone would bring something to eat at our pot luck cook out. Some would bring pies, others rolls, others salads, and Aunt Lucy would make her 'old fashioned' rootbeer.
Finally, there would be a baseball game. I could hardly wait. I loved 'corning' day even more than Thanks Giving Day. Our corn was pretty important to our family, so I knew I had to be on top of the skunks that night.
The night started out pretty good. I built a small fire at the end of the corn patch closest to the house and settled down on a log to wait. I liked hearing the fire pop and looking up at the stars over head--the sky was so clear that I could see about a million. I had to take a lap around the corn every 15 minutes or so, to listen for any ‘corn thieves’ and also to stay awake.
Around midnight, the skunks arrived. Luckily I had my dog Bo with me. We heard the rustling and breaking of the corn stalks, and she was off like lightening, ready to tear into whichever skunk didn't hightail it for home. She chased them, yipping at their heels until they were a block away, then came prancing back, with her chin in the air. "Good girl," I cooed as I rubbed between her ears and she licked my face. There was never a better dog born in the whole world.
After taking another lap around the corn, we settled down next to our fire. I had just started nodding off when I heard Bo growl. "Oh, great!”, I thought, "The skunks are back!" I begrudgingly got to my feet and started for the corn patch. Funny thing was, Bo kinda hung back. "Come on, Bo," I ordered. Slowly she followed me. "This long night must be getting to her too." Then I heard it.
"Thump... drag..." Then silence. It was not a sound that I had heard before. "Hmm. That's weird." After a minute, the sound came again. "Thump...drag..." It was coming from the same direction as the rustling of the corn, so that’s where Bo and I headed. We couldn't hear the 'sound' anymore and we purposely made lots of noise as we walked, hoping the skunks would get the message and take off.
When we got to the spot where the corn stalks were damaged, I looked around for skunks and sent Bo out in search. There wasn't a skunk to be seen. I guessed they'd heard us coming. We'd have to stay there a bit and let them come back so Bo could bite at their tails and put the fear into them. I turned around to look for Bo, then I saw him. He was big, twice as tall as me and probably 4 times my weight. He was dressed in a big canvas coat like soldiers wear. I was so startled that I fell backwards onto the hard ground. I scrambled to my feet and started backing away from this stranger who had come onto our private property in the middle of the night.
He lunged for me with a silvery gray hook that took the place of one of his hands. I stumbled backward and fell again--to my knees. That's when Bo attacked, Yipping and biting at this intruder. I scramble to my feet again and took off for the house, when the man started after me and the familiar, strange noise started. “Thump… drag… thump… drag… thump…drag.”
So it was him. I didn’t have time to think about that sound, I only knew that it caused terror to rise up inside me as it came, faster now, “thump… drag…thump…drag…”. He was nearly close enough to grab me with that terrible hook. I turned hard to the left, just like I did when I was running the bases, and ran a few steps, then turned hard to the right and ran a bit, then hard to the left and then I dropped to the ground and hid, holding my breath in terror as my lungs screamed for air. I couldn’t not breathe, so slowly I allowed the smallest amounts of air to crawl into my lungs. Then slowly I let it out again. This was pure torture, but I could hear him searching for me, hacking his way through the corn with that sharp hook and moving along, “thump… drag… thump… drag…”
Now he was in the row next to where I lay. From the moonlight I could see that he had a large scar across his face and his left leg drug behind his as he walked. His hair was thick, shaggy, and matted, like a wild animal. I held my breath hard and silently prayed that he wouldn’t see me. “Yes,” I thought, “he’s headed away from the house.” If only he would get far enough away, I could make a run for it. He took a few more steps, “thump… drag… thump… drag…” That’s when Bo showed up, whining at my side. Thumpdrag stopped, listened then whirled around and came crashing back toward us. I vaulted to my feet and tore for the house at homerun speed with him following behind, gaining on me—though I have no idea how he did it. “Thump… drag… thump… drag…” At last I burst through the end of the corn patch and I saw it, shining in the moonlight, next to the fire.
I grabbed the baseball and turning, pitched it as hard as I could, right at thump drags head. All my hours of practice paid off. The ball hit its mark, and Thumpdrag stumbled, rolled his head around on his shoulders and fell, crashing to the ground. I ran for the house and rushed to my dad's side. "Wake up, wake up!" I insisted as I pulled at his shoulders. "Thumpdrag is in the corn patch." After a few frantic minutes of me trying to explain, my dad pulled on his britches, grabbed a gun and stepped outside, with me cowering behind him. I took Dad to the spot where I had felled Thumpdrag, but he wasn't there. Dad wondered if it had all been a bad dream, but at my insistence, he called up the sheriff who brought over some deputies about an hour later. The searched the corn patch and the whole neighborhood, but couldn't find anyone.
Dad and the Sheriff sat on the porch talking the rest of the night, and in the morning they found his tracks, a huge boot mark next to a long drag in the ground. They tracked him all through the corn patch, around the yard and out onto the highway. Then they lost the track. “Probably a crazy, hungry vagrant who was stealing corn,” the sheriff wrote in the official report.
Though we spent several nights sitting up in the front room with a gun at the ready, we never saw Thumpdrag again. But we knew he was out there somewhere--wandering the countryside.
