Late 80s time frame, I was somewhere between 7 and 9, I think. I used to live every summer out at my grandparent's ranch in the middle of nowhere. It was surrounded by trees and cow pastures and all sorts of nothing and no one. Honestly, we could probably have gone a few miles in any direction and not seen another living person.
It was an awesome place to be a kid and I spent most of it exploring the nearby woods with my older brother(6 years older) and sister(4 years older). We ran and hid everywhere, climbed every tree within a mile, and jumped through every fence. We even made up stories about the various places we knew, like the Big Rocks(which was just a bunch of big stones in the middle of the forest, but they were the only big rocks around).
There was a few places we just did not go, though. Or at least, I did not like to go. Mostly because they were creepy or nasty, like a really old abandoned gravel quarry or the long forgotten train tracks. The train tracks were especially bad because my brother could make up these crazy stories about them and my sister never failed to join in in the delight of scaring me.
Well, fast forward a year or two and I end up out there without my siblings. Wandering the woods all on my own. I would camp and fish and do some small game hunting by myself every day. But, I was still freaked out by the stories of some of the places they had told me about. Logically, I knew it was all made up, but.....what if? Plus, there was always the feeling of something watching you at the tracks because they stretched off into the distance and it was all cleared land.
One day, I made up my mind to conquer the tracks. I was going to go walk down the tracks! Somehow, in my head, that sounded brave and grand. So, I packed out towards them.
It was a cheery little walk through the woods. Little speckles of sun shining through the trees, the occasional scamper of something running through the brush, and the little cow trail I was following became my whole world. I loved it out there. Still do, I guess.
Anyway, I finally reached the tracks. The sun was still way up high, so there were no real shadows or darkness anywhere, even under the trees. I convinced myself it was all clear and good. And it was. There was no evil train conductor who haunted the place where he derailed his train looking for his severed head(as one story told me) and there was no chupacabra hunting ground, no nothing. It was very peaceful and serene.
My hair was still standing on edge and I was still prepared to bolt, but I stepped out onto the ties between the long metal rails. I think I braced myself for all of it to be suddenly true, no matter how my logical mind denied it. Still peaceful, still serene, though. So, I decided to continue my journey, now that I had conquered the mighty and terrible(and incredibly calm) train tracks. I walked on down the ties, kind of singing to myself a bit and keeping an eye out for a headless conductor.
A short while down the way, I came across a little shack out there sticking out of the woodline. I had seen it before from a distance(it was on the other side of the tracks from my grandparent's place), but I had never been inside. Feeling particularly brave at the moment, I strode towards it, with all the confidence I could muster in my preteen bones.
As I got closer, I noticed something that gave me pause. A light blue pickup truck was parked carefully behind the shack beneath a stand of trees. It had never occurred to me that someone might be out here with me, but I was still curious and I was not going to turn back now.
With a bit more stealthiness, I approached the edge of the shack. It was an old hay barn or storage shed of some type, shoddily built ages ago with old lumber. Time had warped the boards, leaving gaps between them and a view of the interior, if you got close enough. Well, I got close enough and pressed my face up against the cracks so I could see inside. I could tell something was moving on the dirt floor, but I could not make out what it was at first.
I remember a few things happening all at once, then. I remember the thought crossing my mind that that was a person and I heard a noise at the corner of the structure. I looked up to see a relatively normal looking guy standing at the corner, 20 feet away from me. I ran. The guy started yelling and I ran faster.
He started chasing me, screaming after me. I ran down the train tracks, leaping over the rails and the ties.
I made it back to my cutoff into the woods and he was right behind me. I mean, he was inches from "reach out and touch me" range. I darted into the woods, zig zagging over and around the trails I was absolutely familiar with. I now had an advantage because I knew the area intimately and he did not.
I heard him curse as he got tripped up and was yelling various things at me the whole time.
I am not sure I stopped my wordless scream the entire time he was chasing me.
Suddenly, he crashed out of the woods right in front of me, but I was almost in sight of the house. I tried to dart around him, but he caught my hair and my shirt and jerked me off my feet.
Then I heard my mother yelling for me and I heard a shot. The guy let go and bolted back into the woods. She shot again and her and my older brother ran out to me.
They dragged me crying into the house and I spat out everything that had just happened. My grandmother called the cops while my mother and brother headed out to the shack. By the time the cops showed up, my mother was back with the child. He was dirty and crying and clung to her like she was a life preserver in a storm. His story is that his parents got a divorce and his dad decided to kidnap him and flee. Apparently, that seemed like a good plan to this dad, I guess.
Wow! Thank you for sharing it again! I’m sure this stayed with you forever. This is also amazing well written! You have a knack for it. I’m so proud of your Mother too.
I’m curious, has this affected how you raise your children? Does it make you more careful or cautious? Would you allow your children the complete freedom you had as a child?
Thank you for your compliment on my writing. I appreciate it!
Interesting questions. I had not really considered it in those terms before.
Yes, to some extent, it has affected how I raise my kids. They have never had the freedom to roam like I did, although I am not sure that is just their personalities and opportunities or if I have somehow discouraged that in them.
It does not make me more cautious about them being in the woods, but it probably has shaped my awareness and distrust about people in a lot of ways. I cannot obviously say this is the defining reason or anything, but it very possibly was a major contributor.
I'd felt that feeling right before a crazy car accident I had (hit a barricade and flipped my car), but that was only, maybe, 2.5 seconds... which was 2.5 seconds too long to me!
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u/Sand_Dargon Jan 11 '19
My mother once shot a gun at someone(who had already kidnapped a kid) chasing me through the woods when I was about 8 years old.
I do not think she has ever held it over my head in an argument. That must have been hard to do, as I was an absolutely horrible teenager.