Homebrewed Horror: Tales of the Hills

The woods of rural Massachusetts are full of terror. Gangs of rampant, unfettered turkeys roam where ever their twisted wills take them. Phantom bears and moose stalk the darkness of the forests, striking fear into the hearts of hundreds. Coyotes howl and yip to each other in the hills, after the fruitful discovery of a child's corpse. 


It's madness.


The only thing that stands between these raging beasts of insanity and the complete and utter destruction of the human race is most likely the hilltown law enforcement:

Hilltown police force in its entirety. 

  

Thus, you can understand how terrifying it is to live here when there's nothing between you and the dangers of the wilderness except some guy with an organic chai latte.

One night, long ago, my dear brother and I were chilling out at the house after a long day of partying. We ventured into the kitchen at some point, probably to eat some of my bro's infamous stick-o-butter grilled cheese sandwiches.

Whatever the case, we were just sitting around, minding our own levels of saturated fat, when suddenly we heard a weird noise.

It wasn't just strange, or mysterious, or peculiar. 

It was eerie.

It sounded like the offspring of a coyote and a woodpecker who fell deeply in love and made a baby. 

My brother, ever curious as a clam, threw down his spatula dramatically and decided to investigate.


Because my brother and father tainted my innocent mind at an early age with tales of aliens, monsters, and Bigfoot, it was only natural that my thoughts turn to the supernaturally horrifying abomination that is...


THE CHUPACABRA!!!


Perhaps thou doth not know about the fabled goat-sucker. To clear things up, it does not look like this:

No. What I'm talking about here -- the only thing that could possibly sound like the child of a coyote and a woodpecker -- is more like this:

Yeah, he be suckin' them goats dry.

It was then that I realized my brother's life was in danger. I ran to my trusty home utility closet and retrieved my weapon of choice: the cat-hair-caked broom. Then, I rushed to Bro's aid.

I found him in the gravel driveway, flailing a flashlight beam back and forth through the moist summer darkness, rake in hand.  

The trees loomed on all sides menacingly.

Me: What is it?

Bro: Shhh! 

Just then, a shriek sounded off in the forest. A mere moment later, SOMETHING SCUTTLED across our flashlight's pool of light. SCUTTLED. FAST.

Me: IT'S THE CHUPACABRA!!!

Bro: Ahhhhh! 

And with that, he charged into the darkness after the beast, brandishing his rake like a mace of death.

Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

That was it. My brother was going to die and I knew it. But what could I do? I mean, this is Chupacabra we're talking about here. I just stood there, clutching onto my hairy broom for dear life. In my small, nine year-old mind, this was Armageddon. This was the end. Of everything.

Moments passed, punctuated by rustling of bushes and trees. 

Then my brother returned.

Me: What was it?

Bro: I don't know. Must've been a coyote.

Haha. Ha. Of course. A coyote. That's what it was. Yep. Makes sense.

We went back inside to devour some much-deserved sticks of butter with a side of bread and cheese. I felt so giddy and reassured. Of course there was no such thing as the Chupacabra. It was just a stupid story made up by someone who wanted attention like me.

...But I swear... As I was ascending the steps of my front porch, I felt a tiny little nagging feeling inside that all kids feel when they're unsure. For some reason, just my brother's word wasn't good enough. I needed to know, for sure, that there wasn't some hideous beast lurking out in the night. 

So I looked over my shoulder for a just a second. Just one last glance, to affirm the fact that a gruesome monster wasn't dribbling on my neck, waiting to eat my brains... 

I swear to this day... I saw something, but it wasn't a coyote.