| Horror and Thriller Non-Fiction posted January 22, 2018 |
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Curiosity Leads 4 Young Men Deep Into the Country
Goat-Man
by D.F. Wood
(1665 words)
As we look back at our younger days, we may not be proud of some of the things we did. When I was in my early twenties, my brother and I got the crap scared out of us. I am not proud of what I did, and never did anything like it ever again.
Living in a small town does not present a lot of excitement or fun things to do. Especially for those who did not go off to college right after high school. We were old enough to have a car, an apartment, and a job to make the payments on both, but come the weekend, it was party time. During the Summer months where I grew up, cruising was a big deal. A group of guys, or girls, or a combination of both, would pile into a car and cruise the town. There was usually a bottle of wine or two, or a case of beer to be shared. We were all looking for something to do, but most often the only excitement was seeing friends in another car doing the same thing we were, cruising. When nothing was happening in town, there were miles and miles of country roads in our area, and they were fun to cruise as well. Such was the case for me and my brother Dave, and two of our good friends, Mike and Tom.
Mike was driving his 1970 Grand Prix, with me riding shotgun, and Dave and Tom in the back seat. It was a lazy Saturday night. None of us knew of any parties going on, so we decided to cruise the country roads and drink beer. This was not an uncommon thing for us to do. We were always looking for fun or something wild and crazy to do.
It must have been around 10 o’clock at night. There was no moon this night, and it was very dark in the country. We had stopped in the middle of a dirt road for a pee-break. We were west of town, where only a few farms existed. The area was covered with thick swamps and woods. There are a lot of deer in this area, and we liked looking for them when out cruising. While finishing up our business, Tom spoke up, “Hey, you guys want to see if we can find goat-man?”
“Goat-man?” Dave and I said at the same time. “Who or what is goat-man?” I asked.
“You guys have never heard of goat-man?” replied Tom.
Mike started laughing, “I have, but I’ve never seen him.”
We all piled back in the car, each of us full of new energy. Mike spun his tires as we took off, headed to find goat-man. Between Mike and Tom, each sharing what they knew of the legend, Dave and I listened to the story about goat-man.
It seems there was an old man living in a tiny shack in the middle of nowhere, west of town near Bald Hill. Some say they've seen him, but most say they never have. He is really spooky looking, with eyes that are sunk back in their sockets. He is hunched over a little when he walks. He is said to wear a hat and a heavy looking jacket. No one knows where he came from or why he lives where he does. According to Mike and Tom, they've visited this place a couple times but have never seen him.
My brother Dave asked, “So how do you know it was goat-man’s place if nobody was there?”
Tom quickly answered, “Oh, it’s his place,” as he laughed, “there’s nobody who would ever live in this place. It’s goat-man’s place for sure.”
Dave and I were feeling a little skeptical about the story. Tom was known to be a prankster sometimes, and this could just be another one of his stunts.
Mike then added to the story. “Danny Johnson and Gillis were out here last year and said goat-man was living in the backseat of an old Mustang. It didn't have any rear axle or tires, it just sat in this field. They said they hooked a chain up to it and started pulling it down the road. Then, suddenly, goat-man was waving his arms out of the back window and hollering at them.”
Dave and I were laughing at the story but still had our doubts. I chimed in, "You've got to be kidding me, no way. Gillis told you this? So, then what?"
Mike continued, “Gillis said he got out and unhooked the chain real fast from Danny’s truck, and jumped back in and took off. He said they left the chain and the car in the middle of the road.”
“I ain’t never heard anyone talk about this,” said Dave. “And how’s come we’ve never heard of goat-man before?”
“I've heard people talk about him a few times,” Tom said.
Mike turned off onto another road. “We’re getting pretty close now. I think it is just up here in the next quarter mile.” Mike slowed the car down now, as we all peered into the darkness.
“I think we should just pull over here and walk up to it,” suggested Tom.
“No!” replied Mike, sharply. “I would rather go passed where he is and walk back to him, so when we leave, we just hop in the car and floor it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I think that’s the field right there,” Tom said, pointing to the West side of the road.
Mike brought the car to a stop. “I need another beer.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
“Me three,” said Dave. “So, who all has a flashlight?”
Mike confirmed he had one. Dave added, “I’ve got this little one on my keychain, but that’s all.”
Mike led the way, beer in one hand, flashlight in the other. Tom was right behind him, and Dave and I brought up the rear. We approached slowly, trying to be quiet as we could. Mike would turn his light on for a few seconds to get his bearings, and then switch it off. He repeated this process a couple of times until there it was, about ten feet away. It looked like an outhouse but there was no smell coming from it. We were about 30 feet from the road. Dave shined his light on the door, as well as the side of Mike's and Tom's faces. They both had grins from ear to ear. Tom reached out and knocked on the door. Dave and I took off running for the road as fast as we could. Not hearing any shouting or nothing, we stopped and turned back to look for Mike and Tom. Dave flashed his light off and on a couple of times. Mike returned the signal, revealing his location about ten feet to the left of the shack.
“I don’t think he’s around here,” whispered Mike. “I’m going to open the door.”
I was a little scared. I didn't know if this guy was going to come out wielding a gun, a knife, or who knows what. I could tell my brother Dave was a little scared too.
We all got really close to the door again. Dave and I hung back a little bit, ready to run. Tom was close to Mike, but hesitant, ready to run as well. Mike reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob. Slowly, he twisted the knob until the latch cleared the jam. Then, he pushed the door hard and swung it all the way open. We all ran like crazy again.
We didn't run as far this time. Dave shined his little light inside the shack. Mike and Tom approached the entrance. Mike slowly entered the doorway. His flashlight lighting up the tiny building very well. We saw a 3-lb. bucket of peanut butter and there was an empty saltine cracker box. A ratty-looking, thin blanket laid on a short bench, which must have served as his bed. I commented, “Somebody has definitely been staying here.”
I stepped outside the doorway, looking around in the darkness. Dave decided to shine his light behind the shack. He had only taken about two steps in that direction.
“THERE HE IS!” Dave yelled.
Quickly, I turned and looked toward Dave. His flashlight was right on the face of goat-man, who stood about four feet away. Dave turned and ran, as did the rest of us. None of us stopped running until we got to the car. Dave and Tom climbed in the back and Mike got behind the wheel as I was closing my door. We peeled out, the rear of the car fish-tailing a bit as we sped away.
“HOLY CRAP!” shouted Mike.
"Told you he was real," Tom said calmly.
“Damn, I can’t believe it,” I said, my heart still beating hard.
“I just barely turned my flashlight on and he was standing right there,” said Dave. “Did you see his eyes? Man, they were sunk in big time.”
“I need a beer,” hollered Mike. We all grabbed a fresh one and headed back toward town. We had lived to tell the story of goat-man.
I never went back to goat-man's shack. Our Dad worked for the county sheriff department, so we told him about goat-man. He became very interested. He was not pleased as to what we had done and instructed us to stay away from there.
Through investigation, Dad learned the name of the man and that he did not have any warrants. The story was he lived in a farmhouse on the far side of the field but didn't get along with his family and sometimes wandered off. He was known to be eccentric in his ways. Dad said the sheriff's department got calls every now and then about some guy wandering in the road, but when the people would stop to see if he needed help, he would be gone.
Years passed and I never heard of goat-man again.
True Eerie story! contest entry
(1665 words)
As we look back at our younger days, we may not be proud of some of the things we did. When I was in my early twenties, my brother and I got the crap scared out of us. I am not proud of what I did, and never did anything like it ever again.
Living in a small town does not present a lot of excitement or fun things to do. Especially for those who did not go off to college right after high school. We were old enough to have a car, an apartment, and a job to make the payments on both, but come the weekend, it was party time. During the Summer months where I grew up, cruising was a big deal. A group of guys, or girls, or a combination of both, would pile into a car and cruise the town. There was usually a bottle of wine or two, or a case of beer to be shared. We were all looking for something to do, but most often the only excitement was seeing friends in another car doing the same thing we were, cruising. When nothing was happening in town, there were miles and miles of country roads in our area, and they were fun to cruise as well. Such was the case for me and my brother Dave, and two of our good friends, Mike and Tom.
Mike was driving his 1970 Grand Prix, with me riding shotgun, and Dave and Tom in the back seat. It was a lazy Saturday night. None of us knew of any parties going on, so we decided to cruise the country roads and drink beer. This was not an uncommon thing for us to do. We were always looking for fun or something wild and crazy to do.
It must have been around 10 o’clock at night. There was no moon this night, and it was very dark in the country. We had stopped in the middle of a dirt road for a pee-break. We were west of town, where only a few farms existed. The area was covered with thick swamps and woods. There are a lot of deer in this area, and we liked looking for them when out cruising. While finishing up our business, Tom spoke up, “Hey, you guys want to see if we can find goat-man?”
“Goat-man?” Dave and I said at the same time. “Who or what is goat-man?” I asked.
“You guys have never heard of goat-man?” replied Tom.
Mike started laughing, “I have, but I’ve never seen him.”
We all piled back in the car, each of us full of new energy. Mike spun his tires as we took off, headed to find goat-man. Between Mike and Tom, each sharing what they knew of the legend, Dave and I listened to the story about goat-man.
It seems there was an old man living in a tiny shack in the middle of nowhere, west of town near Bald Hill. Some say they've seen him, but most say they never have. He is really spooky looking, with eyes that are sunk back in their sockets. He is hunched over a little when he walks. He is said to wear a hat and a heavy looking jacket. No one knows where he came from or why he lives where he does. According to Mike and Tom, they've visited this place a couple times but have never seen him.
My brother Dave asked, “So how do you know it was goat-man’s place if nobody was there?”
Tom quickly answered, “Oh, it’s his place,” as he laughed, “there’s nobody who would ever live in this place. It’s goat-man’s place for sure.”
Dave and I were feeling a little skeptical about the story. Tom was known to be a prankster sometimes, and this could just be another one of his stunts.
Mike then added to the story. “Danny Johnson and Gillis were out here last year and said goat-man was living in the backseat of an old Mustang. It didn't have any rear axle or tires, it just sat in this field. They said they hooked a chain up to it and started pulling it down the road. Then, suddenly, goat-man was waving his arms out of the back window and hollering at them.”
Dave and I were laughing at the story but still had our doubts. I chimed in, "You've got to be kidding me, no way. Gillis told you this? So, then what?"
Mike continued, “Gillis said he got out and unhooked the chain real fast from Danny’s truck, and jumped back in and took off. He said they left the chain and the car in the middle of the road.”
“I ain’t never heard anyone talk about this,” said Dave. “And how’s come we’ve never heard of goat-man before?”
“I've heard people talk about him a few times,” Tom said.
Mike turned off onto another road. “We’re getting pretty close now. I think it is just up here in the next quarter mile.” Mike slowed the car down now, as we all peered into the darkness.
“I think we should just pull over here and walk up to it,” suggested Tom.
“No!” replied Mike, sharply. “I would rather go passed where he is and walk back to him, so when we leave, we just hop in the car and floor it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I think that’s the field right there,” Tom said, pointing to the West side of the road.
Mike brought the car to a stop. “I need another beer.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
“Me three,” said Dave. “So, who all has a flashlight?”
Mike confirmed he had one. Dave added, “I’ve got this little one on my keychain, but that’s all.”
Mike led the way, beer in one hand, flashlight in the other. Tom was right behind him, and Dave and I brought up the rear. We approached slowly, trying to be quiet as we could. Mike would turn his light on for a few seconds to get his bearings, and then switch it off. He repeated this process a couple of times until there it was, about ten feet away. It looked like an outhouse but there was no smell coming from it. We were about 30 feet from the road. Dave shined his light on the door, as well as the side of Mike's and Tom's faces. They both had grins from ear to ear. Tom reached out and knocked on the door. Dave and I took off running for the road as fast as we could. Not hearing any shouting or nothing, we stopped and turned back to look for Mike and Tom. Dave flashed his light off and on a couple of times. Mike returned the signal, revealing his location about ten feet to the left of the shack.
“I don’t think he’s around here,” whispered Mike. “I’m going to open the door.”
I was a little scared. I didn't know if this guy was going to come out wielding a gun, a knife, or who knows what. I could tell my brother Dave was a little scared too.
We all got really close to the door again. Dave and I hung back a little bit, ready to run. Tom was close to Mike, but hesitant, ready to run as well. Mike reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob. Slowly, he twisted the knob until the latch cleared the jam. Then, he pushed the door hard and swung it all the way open. We all ran like crazy again.
We didn't run as far this time. Dave shined his little light inside the shack. Mike and Tom approached the entrance. Mike slowly entered the doorway. His flashlight lighting up the tiny building very well. We saw a 3-lb. bucket of peanut butter and there was an empty saltine cracker box. A ratty-looking, thin blanket laid on a short bench, which must have served as his bed. I commented, “Somebody has definitely been staying here.”
I stepped outside the doorway, looking around in the darkness. Dave decided to shine his light behind the shack. He had only taken about two steps in that direction.
“THERE HE IS!” Dave yelled.
Quickly, I turned and looked toward Dave. His flashlight was right on the face of goat-man, who stood about four feet away. Dave turned and ran, as did the rest of us. None of us stopped running until we got to the car. Dave and Tom climbed in the back and Mike got behind the wheel as I was closing my door. We peeled out, the rear of the car fish-tailing a bit as we sped away.
“HOLY CRAP!” shouted Mike.
"Told you he was real," Tom said calmly.
“Damn, I can’t believe it,” I said, my heart still beating hard.
“I just barely turned my flashlight on and he was standing right there,” said Dave. “Did you see his eyes? Man, they were sunk in big time.”
“I need a beer,” hollered Mike. We all grabbed a fresh one and headed back toward town. We had lived to tell the story of goat-man.
I never went back to goat-man's shack. Our Dad worked for the county sheriff department, so we told him about goat-man. He became very interested. He was not pleased as to what we had done and instructed us to stay away from there.
Through investigation, Dad learned the name of the man and that he did not have any warrants. The story was he lived in a farmhouse on the far side of the field but didn't get along with his family and sometimes wandered off. He was known to be eccentric in his ways. Dad said the sheriff's department got calls every now and then about some guy wandering in the road, but when the people would stop to see if he needed help, he would be gone.
Years passed and I never heard of goat-man again.
As we look back at our younger days, we may not be proud of some of the things we did. When I was in my early twenties, my brother and I got the crap scared out of us. I am not proud of what I did, and never did anything like it ever again.
Living in a small town does not present a lot of excitement or fun things to do. Especially for those who did not go off to college right after high school. We were old enough to have a car, an apartment, and a job to make the payments on both, but come the weekend, it was party time. During the Summer months where I grew up, cruising was a big deal. A group of guys, or girls, or a combination of both, would pile into a car and cruise the town. There was usually a bottle of wine or two, or a case of beer to be shared. We were all looking for something to do, but most often the only excitement was seeing friends in another car doing the same thing we were, cruising. When nothing was happening in town, there were miles and miles of country roads in our area, and they were fun to cruise as well. Such was the case for me and my brother Dave, and two of our good friends, Mike and Tom.
Mike was driving his 1970 Grand Prix, with me riding shotgun, and Dave and Tom in the back seat. It was a lazy Saturday night. None of us knew of any parties going on, so we decided to cruise the country roads and drink beer. This was not an uncommon thing for us to do. We were always looking for fun or something wild and crazy to do.
It must have been around 10 o’clock at night. There was no moon this night, and it was very dark in the country. We had stopped in the middle of a dirt road for a pee-break. We were west of town, where only a few farms existed. The area was covered with thick swamps and woods. There are a lot of deer in this area, and we liked looking for them when out cruising. While finishing up our business, Tom spoke up, “Hey, you guys want to see if we can find goat-man?”
“Goat-man?” Dave and I said at the same time. “Who or what is goat-man?” I asked.
“You guys have never heard of goat-man?” replied Tom.
Mike started laughing, “I have, but I’ve never seen him.”
We all piled back in the car, each of us full of new energy. Mike spun his tires as we took off, headed to find goat-man. Between Mike and Tom, each sharing what they knew of the legend, Dave and I listened to the story about goat-man.
It seems there was an old man living in a tiny shack in the middle of nowhere, west of town near Bald Hill. Some say they've seen him, but most say they never have. He is really spooky looking, with eyes that are sunk back in their sockets. He is hunched over a little when he walks. He is said to wear a hat and a heavy looking jacket. No one knows where he came from or why he lives where he does. According to Mike and Tom, they've visited this place a couple times but have never seen him.
My brother Dave asked, “So how do you know it was goat-man’s place if nobody was there?”
Tom quickly answered, “Oh, it’s his place,” as he laughed, “there’s nobody who would ever live in this place. It’s goat-man’s place for sure.”
Dave and I were feeling a little skeptical about the story. Tom was known to be a prankster sometimes, and this could just be another one of his stunts.
Mike then added to the story. “Danny Johnson and Gillis were out here last year and said goat-man was living in the backseat of an old Mustang. It didn't have any rear axle or tires, it just sat in this field. They said they hooked a chain up to it and started pulling it down the road. Then, suddenly, goat-man was waving his arms out of the back window and hollering at them.”
Dave and I were laughing at the story but still had our doubts. I chimed in, "You've got to be kidding me, no way. Gillis told you this? So, then what?"
Mike continued, “Gillis said he got out and unhooked the chain real fast from Danny’s truck, and jumped back in and took off. He said they left the chain and the car in the middle of the road.”
“I ain’t never heard anyone talk about this,” said Dave. “And how’s come we’ve never heard of goat-man before?”
“I've heard people talk about him a few times,” Tom said.
Mike turned off onto another road. “We’re getting pretty close now. I think it is just up here in the next quarter mile.” Mike slowed the car down now, as we all peered into the darkness.
“I think we should just pull over here and walk up to it,” suggested Tom.
“No!” replied Mike, sharply. “I would rather go passed where he is and walk back to him, so when we leave, we just hop in the car and floor it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I think that’s the field right there,” Tom said, pointing to the West side of the road.
Mike brought the car to a stop. “I need another beer.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
“Me three,” said Dave. “So, who all has a flashlight?”
Mike confirmed he had one. Dave added, “I’ve got this little one on my keychain, but that’s all.”
Mike led the way, beer in one hand, flashlight in the other. Tom was right behind him, and Dave and I brought up the rear. We approached slowly, trying to be quiet as we could. Mike would turn his light on for a few seconds to get his bearings, and then switch it off. He repeated this process a couple of times until there it was, about ten feet away. It looked like an outhouse but there was no smell coming from it. We were about 30 feet from the road. Dave shined his light on the door, as well as the side of Mike's and Tom's faces. They both had grins from ear to ear. Tom reached out and knocked on the door. Dave and I took off running for the road as fast as we could. Not hearing any shouting or nothing, we stopped and turned back to look for Mike and Tom. Dave flashed his light off and on a couple of times. Mike returned the signal, revealing his location about ten feet to the left of the shack.
“I don’t think he’s around here,” whispered Mike. “I’m going to open the door.”
I was a little scared. I didn't know if this guy was going to come out wielding a gun, a knife, or who knows what. I could tell my brother Dave was a little scared too.
We all got really close to the door again. Dave and I hung back a little bit, ready to run. Tom was close to Mike, but hesitant, ready to run as well. Mike reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob. Slowly, he twisted the knob until the latch cleared the jam. Then, he pushed the door hard and swung it all the way open. We all ran like crazy again.
We didn't run as far this time. Dave shined his little light inside the shack. Mike and Tom approached the entrance. Mike slowly entered the doorway. His flashlight lighting up the tiny building very well. We saw a 3-lb. bucket of peanut butter and there was an empty saltine cracker box. A ratty-looking, thin blanket laid on a short bench, which must have served as his bed. I commented, “Somebody has definitely been staying here.”
I stepped outside the doorway, looking around in the darkness. Dave decided to shine his light behind the shack. He had only taken about two steps in that direction.
“THERE HE IS!” Dave yelled.
Quickly, I turned and looked toward Dave. His flashlight was right on the face of goat-man, who stood about four feet away. Dave turned and ran, as did the rest of us. None of us stopped running until we got to the car. Dave and Tom climbed in the back and Mike got behind the wheel as I was closing my door. We peeled out, the rear of the car fish-tailing a bit as we sped away.
“HOLY CRAP!” shouted Mike.
"Told you he was real," Tom said calmly.
“Damn, I can’t believe it,” I said, my heart still beating hard.
“I just barely turned my flashlight on and he was standing right there,” said Dave. “Did you see his eyes? Man, they were sunk in big time.”
“I need a beer,” hollered Mike. We all grabbed a fresh one and headed back toward town. We had lived to tell the story of goat-man.
I never went back to goat-man's shack. Our Dad worked for the county sheriff department, so we told him about goat-man. He became very interested. He was not pleased as to what we had done and instructed us to stay away from there.
Through investigation, Dad learned the name of the man and that he did not have any warrants. The story was he lived in a farmhouse on the far side of the field but didn't get along with his family and sometimes wandered off. He was known to be eccentric in his ways. Dad said the sheriff's department got calls every now and then about some guy wandering in the road, but when the people would stop to see if he needed help, he would be gone.
Years passed and I never heard of goat-man again.
 Recognized |
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This happened 40 years or so ago. I think a prank like this in today's world would get someone killed. We were lucky the man meant no harm. I am ashamed to say that I did this to a helpless old man.
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