The Beast That Haunted Me For 20 Years

ENTRY III – August 1, 2013

I spent three hours on the phone with my kids last night. We’ll get together for lunch next week. My wife and I will have dinner together after I drop them off to talk about a possible reconciliation. I promised that my problems were behind me now and, unlike the thousand other times, I meant it. I know that there is still a long road ahead, but I faced the Beast. I killed the Beast. I stared my fear in the eye and survived, again.

Rose called this morning. Dave is better and back in the kitchen working up freshly fried chicken for the patrons of the small town. He uses a cane to walk now, and will for at least three weeks, if he’s lucky. When asked how he earned the battle wound, he tells proudly of his face-off with the Beast – though described more as a bear than the true Beast it was – in the woods. Of course, no one believes him. But it does make for a good story, so they listen.

I asked if the sheriff and Roogy had gone back to retrieve the body of the Beast. She told me that they had, but it was gone by time they got there. They decided to never speak of it to anyone. What they had seen on the ground was hard enough to describe, and even harder to hope that anyone would believe them.

“So how are those ghosts?” she asked. I could hear the smile through the line.

I chuckled, “Gone,” I told her. “I faced them, and they are gone.”

The line fell silent for a moment.

“Rose?” I asked.

“Another hiker went missing. Bradley Foxx. His car was found a mile from the park. His car was flipped and something scratched the dickens out of it.”

I lowered my head and closed my eyes.

“Will you be coming back?”

I did not answer. I just squeezed my eyes even tighter.