Fic: The Tall Tale (1/5)
Title: The Tall Tale (1/5)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): John-Boy (Narrator), Ike Godsey, John/Olivia, Zeb/Esther,
Fandom: The Waltons
Genres: Drama, Holiday, Suspense
Rating (this chapter): G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
General Summary: What is stalking the shadows up on the Mountain?
Chapter Summary: John-Boy hears about a mysterious creature on Walton's Mountain.
Date Of Completion: May 13, 2021
Date Of Posting: September 9, 2021
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Lorimar Productions does, more’s the pity.
Word Count (this chapter): 951
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: All chapters can be found here.
I
Bigger Than A Bear
Tales are told,
From times of old,
Fresh and bold,
Tales are told.
George Schuyler Cox
Editor
"A Compendium
Of American Folk Tales"
1936 C.E
In the autumn of 1936, the nights of October were cold and frosty, and not a little foreboding. The mountains had always held strange tales, and my grandfather knew them all. People claimed to have seen unnatural creatures, which my modern generation scoffed at, until our encounter in the woods one eerie night.
& & & & & &
I shook my head. “C’mon, Ike, you really don’t believe in that stuff, do you?”
“Why not? If you’d seen what I have, you wouldn’t scoff.”
Skeptical, I asked, “Some creature bigger than a bear?”
“Hey, it was pretty big.”
“You were a kid! Showed good imagination, though.”
The wind blew, rustling the
Ike snickered. “Always with the explanation, eh, John-Boy?”
“It’s what I do, Ike.”
Ike laughed. “Go on, get outta here.”
I grinned and left with my purchases. I was glad that I had chosen to walk to Ike’s store. Fall days were the best. I always felt invigorated in the fall. I liked the colors of the turning leaves and the crisp, cool air. I always seemed to have more inspiration at this time of year.
As I walked, I thought about what Ike had told me. A large, hairy beast here in the Blue Ridge Mountains? I never knew Ike was so imaginative!
The wind blew, rustling the leaves of the bushes on the side of the road. I could understand where the stories came from. These woods were made for tall tales.
I took my time but eventually reached home. My father and grandfather were working in the sawmill, and the saw stopped its raucous grinding. I entered the sawmill.
It was always fresh with the scent of wood and sawdust, evoking my childhood. Grandpa and Daddy were taking a break.
“Hey, Grandpa, got a question for ya.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“Ever hear of a big, hairy beast in these mountains?”
Grandpa and Daddy exchanged a look, not lost on me.
“Well, now, I recall hearin’ about such a thing.” Grandpa stroked his chin.
“Yeah? What’s the story?’
“Seems like the first sighting was back before the War Between the States, around 1830, I hear tell.”
“1830?”
“Yep, a long time ago. Every now and then there would be another sighting. Sometimes you hear something strange.”
“I’ve never heard any strange noises in the woods,” I said.
“Not everybody hears it.”
“It?”
Grandpa shrugged. “He, it, who knows?”
“A hairy beast, though?”
“Could be just an overgrown bear.”
I laughed. “Are you pulling my leg?”
Grandpa’s eyes twinkled. “Just tellin’ you the old tales.”
I couldn’t tell if Grandpa was joking or not.
“Better get those ingredients in to your momma and grandma,” Daddy suggested.
“Right.”
I went up unto the porch,(decorated with pumpkins and cornstalks), and went inside. Momma and Grandma were eager to start baking. They emptied out the bag and used the ingredients to begin.
I went upstairs to my room. Had Ike been joking around, too? Country humor could be odd.
Sitting down at my desk, I pulled over my notepad and made a few notes. My creative energy had left like a winged bird. Well, okay, it sounded like I was back in the groove again, but no soap.
“Argh!”
Nothing like a little frustration, tight?
I stared out the window. It was the same view I’d seen my whole life, but somehow it seemed different. Could there be a strange creature out there? The Mountain didn’t give up its secrets easily.
& & & & & &
Maudie Cleghorn was used to the sounds of night on the Mountain: chattering cicadas, hooting owls and the occasional bear crashing through the underbrush. Maudie heard the noises but rarely paid attention to them. Her son Billy-Bob was out coon hunting but would not be back for several hours. She pushed back a lock of lank brown hair and decided to read the week-old newspaper Nurse Nora had left for her.
Maudie sat in her chair and read by the light of the kerosene lamp. She shook her head as she read. Such goings-on people got up to in places like Rockfish and Charlottesville.
And they call us country folk strange!
A howl echoed somewhere in the woods. This noise got Maudie’s attention. She set aside the paper and stood up, going over to the window.
Everything was dark on this moonless night. She peered into the darkness, but it was tough to make out anything. She listened but it was quiet. Shrugging, she returned to her chair. Picking up the paper, she read about a robbery of the dress shop.
The howl sounded again. Maudie frowned. She stood up again and went to the fireplace. Billy-Bob had taken the shotgun from its place above the mantel, but there was still an old flintlock they used that rested against the side of the fireplace. She picked it up and went to the window again.
Something was crashing through the woods. Maudie’s finger tightened on the trigger of the flintlock.
Whatever it was, it was coming closer. She felt the kind of calm that settled over her when she hunted. Her breathing was slow but steady. She opened the window. Just wait, just wait…
The underbrush at the edge of the woods shook as if a strong wind was blowing, but there was no wind. Something was out there. The hair stood up on the back of Maudie’s neck.
Something barreled out of the woods and Maudie fired.
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