Tales From the Low Roads (WARNING: grisly content).

[Low_Roads]

... Do they want Beelzebub himself to appear before they'll take the hint? 😛

Well, to be fair, no place in Tabor County is really very safe! And these guys have extremely limited options... things aren't likely to be better for them back home, which is where they'll be sent if caught and the place the Mexican giantess hailed from to begin with. The tone of this series is so parochial, it won't become obvious for awhile (in fact, it may never be made strongly enough) that Tabor County isn't especially unique, weirdness-wise... that fearful peculiarities exist everywhere, and the Low Roads just localize them. That's in keeping with the adaptability of the urban legend template... few such stories are attributed to specific locations or even specific regions: I thought they'd all happened locally when I first heard them (back when I was younger, of course, and had no notion that they weren't real events!)

Your speculation concerning the souls of the deceased "donors" is thought-provoking and most disturbing! Ordinarily, one would have to doubt that spiritual continuation would hinge on excised limbs and organs... otherwise I'm screwed, as I had a tonsillectomy when I was about five! Such mundane comfort might not apply to the special circumstances surrounding the Mexican witch, however, since there's no telling what ritual magic was invoked during the removal. The "life" imparted to the clay giant had to have sprung from somewhere... from the victims' borrowed life-force, possibly? I never thought the question through that deeply... and I'm distressed I have to do so now! Whatcha tryin' ta do, HDS, give me nightmares!!!

 

[Journia]

Augh, Littlebighead, you have another cliffhanger?!?! Man...this wAs a good story.

 

[Low_Roads]

Thank you, J! Yes, a further cliffhanger, I'm afraid! Possibly more forgivable here than in the Low Roads comic, as you're forced to wait only one week for the resolution (just as Buck Rogers or Nyoka would have made you do 70 years back!) Rejoice, therefore! The finish for this two-parter is upon us:

Low Roads Story #31

The Straw Man​

I already told you the story of the Mexican witch. She was constructing a giant man out of clay and human body parts. She had finished him and was bringing him alive when men from the creek killed her. The clay man fell into her campfire and was melted. The men were lucky. If the clay had dried, the monster might have been impossible to destroy. They had got there just in time.

The men had done a good deed, but by killing off the witch they were technically guilty of murder. They did the only thing they could. They dug a deep grave right there where she died and got rid of the evidence. No one was going to miss that hag. That should have been the end of it.

Before her death, the woman was often seen wearing a strange charm. It was a crude doll made out of straw, the stiff kind they use for brooms. In fact, it was made out of an old witch broom. This doll was about a foot long. It would hang around the woman's neck, clasping her with its straw arms. Shoved sideways through the middle of the doll was a wickedly sharp, eight-inch long spike made of black metal. The spike made people think this was like a voodoo doll. They assumed the witch stabbed the doll to hurt others. They were wrong, but there was no way for them to know that.

The charm wasn't on the woman when she was killed and was not buried with her. It never occurred to the men that it might be of any importance. They just left the area when they were done, to return to their various campsites. They had every reason to believe they were safe now, at least as safe as you can be in Tabor County.

And in fact nothing weird did happen for the next few weeks. The men went to their jobs, hoeing the fields, picking cherries, whatever. At night they returned to the creeks to cook their meals, tell stories and get rest for the next day. It was pretty much their life as usual.

Then one morning they woke up to find a man dead in his blanket. It was like the witch horror was starting all over again. Before her death she had killed two men at night and taken body parts. This man had participated in the raid that resulted in the woman's death, so everyone was talking supernatural vengeance now.

The man had been killed by a hole pushed through to his heart. It bled like mad, of course, and looked like a bullet wound except that it was too clean. The hole was perfectly round, about a half inch across. Actually, it was a pretty simple looking stab wound and the more men thought about it the more it seemed an ordinary, normal murder. This made them suspicious and angry, like someone was trying to use the witch excuse to cover his own crime, and the various groups moved farther and farther away from each other.

That didn't solve anything. More killings occurred. It was always the same method, sometimes through the heart and sometimes through the brain, and always someone who had been present when the woman was killed. Suspicion was back with the supernatural now, but that didn't help the situation. Five men died in two weeks time and no one knew who would be next or what to do to stop it.

In desperation, they turned to an old ranch owner who had come from Mexico originally. He had the reputation of being a Mexican sorcerer. He wouldn't admit to that at first, but when he saw how serious and scared they were he agreed to help.

First he explained what they were up against. The straw charm wasn't a voodoo doll but a vengeance doll. Its whole purpose was to take revenge if its creator should be killed. It used the metal spike in its middle to do its murders. The doll was able to move all right, but only at night. During the day it was stiff and lifeless, and that's when it should be dealt with. Of course, it would find a place to hide before day came so it wouldn't be easy to locate. But the old man knew some methods of protection and would work to help them end this menace.

The rancher owned a big, mean, grizzled Manx cat. He had named her Demona, and she did look like a devil. Demona was tawny colored and streaked with fiery orange stripes. One of her eyes was gone but the other was a blazing orange-red. I believe that's a pretty unusual color for a cat's eye. Demona was extremely stocky and muscular, more like a wild cat than a house cat. She had been with the old sorcerer a long time, longer than most cats live, and knew alot of his secrets.

The old man sent Demona out to track down the doll. Then he gave each man a bag containing household dust. That was supposed to be used for protection. The men didn't see how this would help and grumbled, but they took the bags just the same.

That night each man sprinkled the household dust all around their sleeping area. This is what the rancher had told them to do. Then they turned in and tried to sleep.

Several hours later when all was quiet, the doll left its hiding place and crept down into the creek. It located one of the men and pulled the black spike out of its midsection. It closed in for the kill, but then encountered the household dust. Since the doll's straw originally came from a broom, it couldn't cross without sweeping up all the dust first. This wasn't easy to do outside. It would kick the dust around with its straw legs and just mix it into the dirt of the creek bed. This was a pretty futile task, and before it was anywhere near done dawn came on. The doll had to hurry back to its sanctuary, frustrated.

What the doll didn't know was that the rancher had mixed scent in with the dust. It had a distinctive odor that Demona would recognize in an instant. Everything was set for the next night.

The day came and went. The men did as they had the night before, so they were protected. When the doll entered the creek bed it was doubly set on doing murder, but it still couldn't get at its would-be victims because of the dust. It ran from one to the next in mounting vexation.

Then from up above came a blood-chilling yowl of hate. Demona was perched on an overhanging limb. She had tracked the doll through its scent. Her orange eye burned down on the ugly little assassin. With a single bound, Demona sprang to the earth. She closed on her quarry with menacing bared fangs. The doll whipped out its spike and stood ready. Then quick as lightning it lunged again and again at its tormentor. Demona seemed to smirk. She barely moved an inch as she dodged and parried the attacks. Then at just the right moment her claws flashed out. The spike went spinning through the air and sank deep into a log.

The doll was completely defenseless. It turned and ran desperately away. That's all there was to do. Demona followed at an easy trot. The chase lasted all night long. The doll tried every trick it knew but couldn't lose Demona. Eventually morning came on. The doll stiffened and fell over, lifeless once again. Demona took it in her strong jaws and gingerly made her way back home. When the old sorcerer saw what the cat had dragged in, he tossed it on the glowing coals of the hearth in disgust. The straw went up in a rush of ugly purple smoke.

This has been a strange, strange story, but I know every word is true. You see, one of the men found that spike imbedded in the log. He drew it out and has kept it as a souvenir to this day.

 

[His Divine Shadow]

Gosh darn it, I started reading that and "Scatman" began playing in my head. Curse you LBH! XD

Have we seen a sorcerer on the side of good yes in these tales? I am not sure. Many mere men and women have staved off the abominations of the Low Roads but I do not recall any approaching the level of the supernatural that the old rancher and Demona possess. Some firepower for the forces of light (or grey, really; some of these miscreant unfortunates who are targeted aren't exactly paragons of virtue) at last!

 

[Low_Roads]

Sorry about the earworm, HDS! Especially one featuring scat singing (I like scat, but no one wants nonsense syllables racing through his head all day long! Could'a been worse... could'a been doo-wop!)

The Mexican sorcerer is indeed as close as I intend to come to a Gandalf or Merlin figure in this series. Though you're dead-on right concerning the "forces of grey" angle (canny HDS... never misses the subtleties!) I'm eager for there to be plenty of ambiguity, so that (1) the reader is kept off balance (always valuable in a horror series... I'd like the sense conveyed that you wouldn't feel safe turning your back on any of these guys!), and (2) because it contributes to forbidden, mythic mystique. Mostly, the outre residents of Tabor County are divorced from the concerns of mundane folks, viewing them either dispassionately or as prey. If any "good" exists at all, it's either coincidental or arrived at through an overriding sense of personal responsibility (as with the sorcerer, who has no sanctioned authoritarian status. Official protections in Tabor County tend to be pretty worthless, hemmed in by procedural restrictions that don't fetter the monsters).

 

[Low_Roads]

Low Roads Story #32

Gas Bag​

This mystery took some time to figure out. On the face of it, it looked impossible. But clever police work cleared things up.

The case started when a power lineman failed to return from a job. He had been working on one of those really tall metal towers. A string of these things led from the power plant at the dam to a sub-station in Fairview. The power company knew where he had gone and sent another truck to check on him. He was found at the top of the tower, hanging loose in his safety strap. They assumed he had been electrocuted. Rescue vehicles showed up and it took quite some time to get his body down.

The lineman was in fact dead, not just hurt and unconscious. He was burned, but they didn't look like electrical burns. Lines of streaky blistering covered his face and exposed arm. This looked so strange that an autopsy was done. The coroner learned two startling things. First was that the burns were chemical burns. The second was that the man had been poisoned to death. Rattlesnakes weren't uncommon in those hills, but this seemed to be jellyfish poison.

It was quite a puzzle. No one could figure out how this death could possibly have happened. An ambitious sheriff's deputy took on the challenge. He knew that a jellyfish could only have come from the ocean, so he checked what had been happening off the coast. That was a good hundred miles away, but he had a hunch.

This is what his investigation found: it being summer, numerous vacationers had boats on the water that day. But there was also a large cruise ship out there. It just happened to be hosting a wedding. There were alot of decorations, of course, from streamers to colored balloons. A supply of helium had to be on hand to fill up these balloons. It was stored under pressure in big tanks.

Some of the party guests turned out to be a pretty rowdy bunch. They liked to play practical jokes whenever they could and were always on the lookout for a new opportunity.

Now it so happened that they noticed a big jellyfish floating near to the ship. It was a Portuguese Man-of-War. These are very deadly, toxic animals. You'd recognize it from pictures if you ever saw one. It's about twenty feet long, but most of that is stringy tentacles. They hang from the body of the animal, which is a big sack a couple of feet long. This sack is sealed and full of air so that it floats on the surface. The tentacles have stings on them that are used to catch fish. The stings contain a deadly venom and many swimmers have died on account of becoming tangled in them.

Well like I said, these guys saw this Man-of-War floating not too far away and it gave them an idea for some mischief. They got close and poked a hole in the animal's sack. One of them stuck in the hose from the helium tank and filled it up with gas. Then they sealed the hole with electrical tape. The jellyfish behaved just like a balloon and floated away into the air. The guys on the ship thought this was hysterically funny. They tried to imagine the looks on people's faces when they saw this jellyfish sailing through the sky.

The Man-of-War headed inland. Despite the men's expectations, it passed over mostly uninhabited land and no one saw it at all. That is, not until it got to the lineman. He was unlucky enough to be right in its path. The tentacles brushed him and injected him with venom, killing him.

The practical jokers were taken into custody, but the case didn't look good. The sheriff's deputy had worked all this out in his head and there was no physical evidence. It was all circumstantial and the men weren't admitting to anything. But the deputy wasn't going to let them get away with it. He made up a chart of where the ship had been and where the electrical tower was and drew a line. That showed him where the jellyfish probably would have floated. Then he made a thorough search. The odds were against him, but after a couple of days he did run across the dried out body of the Man-of-War. This evidence convicted the men and they spent five years in jail each.

This clever police work really helped the deputy's career. Years later, he ran for sheriff himself and was elected due to his good reputation. As for the guilty men, their troubles didn't end when they got out of jail. They were all sued by the A.S.P.C.A. for what they had done to the jellyfish.

 

[His Divine Shadow]

I wonder if that is actually plausible ... you're giving ideas to the miscreants, LBH! What a sight that would be, the dozens of feet of tentacles waving about in the breeze as this giant gas bag floats serenely towards you. And, being totally silent, it would be all the more eerie. Death from afar, more afar than any previous story methinks! At least the local law enforcement has some brains in their skulls, aye.

 

[Low_Roads]

There's probably three dozen different reasons why my man-o-war scenario can't actually work (that won't keep me from getting sued if someone tries it for real, though!) The weight of the animal and attendant sea water would likely be too much for helium to overcome; it's questionable anyone could force gas into a jellyfish without blowing it up; electrical tape would probably be insufficient to seal the breach, etc. Does make for a nice image, though (same way an atom blast makes for pretty lighting effects! XD) Happily, fiction doesn't have to be possible, only sound reasonable!

Too true... this is one of the few times Tabor County's law officers were good for anything! Usually they just mill about aimlessly, stumped by outre forces their conventional training hasn't prepared them to handle! To be fair, I've been singling out such abnormal incidents... I'm sure these guys are ace at the more mundane aspects of police procedure!

 

[His Divine Shadow]

I'm sure these guys are ace at the more mundane aspects of police procedure!

Are there even any mundane criminals left alive? I'd imagine they would fall as swiftly as the common folk before the creatures you've conjured (or Blacky and his squadron, whom we haven't seen in a bit as I think of it ...).

 

[Low_Roads]

HDS's uncanny prescience leaps ahead of the plot yet again! Each of these concerns will indeed be addressed, as soon as upcoming Chapter 42, "The Devil Gang"!

 

[Cbarton]

Sorry I've been behind in commenting...looks like 4 tales slipped by me...very fun reads. I love the last one. Reminds me of the fish in South America that sometimes get swept up by waterspouts (tornados that touch down in the water) and get carried inland until the wind gives out. Imagine that happening over a bunch of Man-of-Wars...

Also, everyone knows you wouldn't use electrical tape. You'd use the oceanographer's secret weapon....duct tape! :::hears Red Green applauding in the distance:::

 

[Low_Roads]

Welcome back, Hawk! Hope your Denver presentation went swimmingly!

Most pleased to hear you've enjoyed the stories! And your observation about real airborne sea life is both startling and on target! Though I guess even jellyfish aren't the most embarrassing things that could drop on you out of a cyclone... I'd sure prefer a quick death by poison to the ignominy of drowning in a rain of sea slugs, for instance!

Hmmmm... I'll certainly bear in mind your admonition regarding duct tape... if Red Green endorses it, it's got to be the straight skinny!

 

[Low_Roads]

Low Roads Story #33

Raining Rocks​

This happened back in the late '60s, like 1967 or 1968. It concerns a family that lived out in the flats north of Fairview. This area is nothing more than grassy plain. It's not much good for crops. The soil is too rocky. There are a few cattle and sheep ranches. That's what this family had, sheep. It was a small operation, only about fifty animals. None of the businesses up that way are too big.

You can find all sorts of homes up there. Some are really old and in bad shape. They were built decades ago, before paved roads were put in. But these folks had a more modern house. It was a small one story place, but comfortable. The family consisted of a mother and father and two kids.

Some of their relatives lived in Fairview. The man's brother had money invested in the sheep operation and often helped with the work. On the morning in question he had arrived for that very purpose. He'd just entered their drive when he noticed something strange.

The sheep should all be busy grazing, but several of them lay completely motionless in the grass. This was so unusual he stopped to check out the situation. To his surprise, the animals proved to be dead. Their bodies formed a big row right down the center of the field, although the sheep on either side seemed to be all right. At first he thought they had been shot. Each one was pierced by holes about a quarter inch wide. It seemed to be the kind of wound a twenty-two bullet might make, but there were thousands of them. Whoever did this must have used some kind of twenty-two machine gun. Then he saw that the ground around the sheep corpses was peppered with similar holes. Whatever had struck the animals had come straight down.

The man noticed that the trail of dead sheep led right toward the house. With growing worry, he ran up to the front door and entered. It was a wonder that the whole structure hadn't collapsed. Every inch was punctured by the same small holes. Everything inside, the dishes and furniture and appliances, had been broken to bits. The man was in danger spending any time in this rickety building, but there was something he had to find out.

In the bedrooms, his worst fears were confirmed. Every person in the house was dead. They had been shot clear through hundreds of times, just like the sheep. It was a grisly sight. Some of the bodies were in pieces. As sorrowful as he was, the man pulled himself together and went for the authorities.

The reason for this tragedy came years before. At the end of World War II the Americans built the A-bomb. It helped us to gain victory over our enemies. That should have been the end of it, but then we needed deadly weapons because of the Russian threat. So, research continued. The hydrogen bombs we invented later were more powerful still. Military men tested them again and again to see what they could do. Nevada was mostly uninhabited, so the desert out there was used as a proving ground. I guess scientists blew up almost all the vacant land doing these experiments.

The nuclear explosions were so mighty that tons of dust was blasted into the air. Some of it came down again, but alot was blown so high that it just stayed up there with the rest of the weather. This dust finally formed a big cloud which circled around and around the globe.

Now, dust in the atmosphere usually collects moisture and falls back to earth again. That's what rainwater is, dust that's sucked up moisture. But the dust in this cloud was so hot with radioactivity that any liquid got turned into steam and blew away. So, it never came down. It just stayed in orbit.

After awhile, these dust particles knocked into each other and stuck together. This would go on until little rocks were formed. They were now too heavy to stay in the cloud anymore, and fell like rain. This "dry rain" was extremely hot and would cut through anything it touched.

The destroyed sheep ranch was the first recorded time this happened. It may have occurred before, but if it was over the ocean no one would have noticed. Since everyone was in bed, the rain must have come at night, starting suddenly in the middle of the pasture. It was a pretty narrow flurry, thank goodness. A really intense rain over Fairview would probably have wiped out the whole town. But these sheep ranchers had the bad luck to be right in its path. They were killed before they knew anything was wrong.

This has happened a couple of times since, although no other deaths have been reported. Fortunately, Hot Rain doesn't come along all that often. But no one knows when the next time will be. There's nothing you could do about it anyway. If you happen to see Hot Rain, don't go anywhere near it even after the shower is over. The sheep man's brother got sick just being that close to the radioactive rocks.

 

[Cbarton]

hmmm...very bizzare tale, my friend

having taken meteorology classes, it's an interesting idea

 

[Low_Roads]

Meteorology too, my good Hawk! The very thing untutored authors fears most... an omni-expert! Vain hope to sneak bum info past such an audience (actually, a certain degree of failure rate is built into the Low Roads story structure... since these narratives are ostensibly delivered by poorly schooled manual laborers, I don't have to be more accurate than they'd be). Happy, then, to hear this premise of "hot rocks" was able to intrigue and entertain! The nuclear threat may be an antique anxiety in an era of global terrorism (the idea of secreted conventional explosives is more likely to raise hackles now), but I remember the good ol' days of duck-and-cover far too well to ever ignore. Fears from our earliest years shape us for life... plus, radiation is always dependable for delivering the odd sci-fi monster!

 

[His Divine Shadow]

Late, late, I'm very very late! There's an appropriate smiley for this ... ah, yes:

I think you're right on with the lack of liquid radioactive rain. A sufficiently hot material would prevent condensation I would think. The condensation of rocks, though ... would they stay aloft enough to build to a size appropriate enough for death from above? Fish and frogs have been sucked up, carried, and rained down before so I suppose so. Meteorites in space do exactly what you describe so the effects aren't too absurd, although the cloud would have to be really high for that kind of speed, even with the heat

Yanno, I think I'm doing to go move into Cheyenne Mountain now. The skies aren't safe n'more! :yowza:

 

[scavenger]

Well, who cares is it doesn't adhere to the laws of meteorology, it's a great story anyway! 🙂
The beginning of the story reminds me somewhat of Lovecraft's "The colour out of space" (Well I know Lovecraft has been an inspiration for you -as he has been for all of us). Of course Lovecraft must have had his ideas from the older -scientific- books by Charles Fort. Those deal in particular on mysterious rains (fish, frogs, ice, stones, marsh paper, star jelly...) These books (namely his "Book of the Damned") always gives me the shivers... I'm not kidding here, if you're not familiar, just check out his works, and ask yourself the question: "What if this were true?..."

 

[Low_Roads]

Late, late, I'm very very late! There's an appropriate smiley for this ... ah, yes:

The perennially late White Rabbit, just one of the many lovely, useful new smilies the HDS has recently seen fit to deliver us as gift! Our fond friend need never feel the need to apologize (the HDS has been far too generous to this poor thread throughout its life... all of LBH's threads, in fact), certainly not because of tardiness! The current season makes weighty demands on everyone's time!

I think you're right on with the lack of liquid radioactive rain. A sufficiently hot material would prevent condensation I would think. The condensation of rocks, though ... would they stay aloft enough to build to a size appropriate enough for death from above?

Probably not... I chose the 22-gage comparison because the diameter was roughly equal to that of hailstones. Frankly, I have no idea how they manage to stay aloft so long either! Particularly the golf-ball magnitude variety we hear about, the ones responsible for deaths and expensive property damage... just how in tarnation is ice able to remain in clouds long enough to achieve such size! A reality freakier than most sf constructions!

Yanno, I think I'm doing to go move into Cheyenne Mountain now. The skies aren't safe 'more! :yowza:

Not a bad idea... you might at least buy yourself a little early warning!

Well, who cares is it doesn't adhere to the laws of meteorology, it's a great story anyway! 🙂

Much appreciated, Scav! I sure don't mind bending nature's rules if it serves a pleasing narrative!

The beginning of the story reminds me somewhat of Love-craft's "The colour out of space" (Well I know Love-craft has been an inspiration for you -as he has been for all of us).

I'm flattered you note the comparison... "Color out of Space" is probably my favorite from Lovecraft, despite the absence of iconic Cthulhu-style personalities! It's been adapted for cinema more than once, but never adequately (though "Die, Monster, Die!" does manage to be good ghoulish fun!) Subsequent Low Roads stories will make use of a tainted water and wells, driving the kinship home all the more unmistakably!

Of course Love-craft must have had his ideas from the older -scientific- books by Charles Fort. Those deal in particular on mysterious rains (fish, frogs, ice, stones, marsh paper, star jelly...) These books (namely his "Book of the Damned") always gives me the shivers... I'm not kidding here, if you're not familiar, just check out his works, and ask yourself the question: "What if this were true?..."

I'm familiar with Fort primarily through his book "Wild Talents" which I read and reread throughout high school. Your quite right, he was a whale of a writer... his style certainly grabbed me, even if the creepy coincidences he liked to outline went a bit over my head (as I recall, "Wild Talents" had a thing for unexplained human disappearances, which he'd try to sync up with other weird global phenomena). Fort's "what if" approach (as you note) echoed that of classic sf, which is likely why it attracted me so much!

 

[Cbarton]

The large hail (ex. golf ball size) is created when the winds are strong enough to blow the hail back up into the clouds, gathering more water and freezing more ice to it. Thus, your 'heavy rain' idea is not so far-fetched.

I took meterology in High School, plus one pharmacist I worked with had a husband with a meteorology degree, and add to that what I had to learn about weather on the farm, you gather quite the mind for it.

Plus, being the bookworm that I was as a child, you learn a lot about a lot of things (hence my 5-year undefeated streak in Trivial Pursuit back in my college days).

 

[Low_Roads]

Praise be for a well-read man! My thanks for the explanation about outlandish-sized ice bullets, Hawk! It makes the phenomenon understandable and is indeed something I can cross-apply to my story! I likewise grew up (and still live) on a farm... coastal California isn't the best place to become familiar with freezing temperatures, though. Hail is uncommon and snow is a blue-moon occurrence (except on the highest hill peaks. That's something I'll touch on in a later Low Roads).

 

[Cbarton]

Glad to contribute...

 

[Low_Roads]

Low Roads Story #34

At the Summit​

The most prominent landmark in Tabor County has got to be the Twin Sisters peaks. They're on the western edge of the county line. Any farther west and you end up in Harmon County.

These peaks are pretty imposing to the lowlands that surround them, although as mountains go they really aren't so much. Mountains have to be a thousand feet tall, if that "Englishman" movie is anything to go by. I guess the Twin Sisters just qualify. These peaks got their name back in the Indian days. When you enter Tabor County from the east, this range of hills looks just like a woman reclining on her back. The hills to the left of the peaks look like the woman's legs and stomach. The hills right of the peaks look like her head with her hair all spread out. The peaks themselves look just like what you would expect them to. When the Indians came up with a name for them, they were more bold than we like to be now. The white people who moved in later renamed the mountains The Twin Sisters so no one would be offended.

Tabor County is a real temperate region, as most of coastal California tends to be. It gets hot in the summer and cold in the winter, of course, but never as bad as it seems in other places. Snow is pretty rare. You almost never see it in the lowlands. The only place it ever usually shows up is at the very top of Twin Sisters peaks.

One winter a long time back, it got to be so cold that the peaks received a pretty good powdering of white. A local man who lived on the lower part of the hill decided it would be fun to visit the summit and check things out. With snow being such a novelty, you'd expect this kind of thing to happen all the time. But getting to the top of Twin Sisters isn't that easy. There's a residential road on the mountain, but it sure doesn't go all the way up. To do that you have to walk. You don't need oxygen or anything like that, but it's still a pretty rough climb.

The man was up to the exercise and made it to the summit. Everyone expected to hear an interesting story about the snowy hills when he returned. But it got late and he never came down. His worried family sent cops up to check after him. This is what they found.

The man was at the very highest part of the highest peak. He was laid out on the thin layer of snow in a restful, peaceful pose. It was as though he'd just gone up there and lay down to sleep. His head was gone, though. Most of it, anyway. All that was left was his neck and his lower jaw.

The police were at a complete loss. If this was a murder scene, it was like none they had ever witnessed before or even heard of. The site was incredibly clean and pristine. Even the wound was as neat as such things can be, with only a few random blood drops on the snow. Otherwise the body looked completely unruffled. The cops searched for tracks but, besides the man's own, there were none to be found. No scrap of anything unusual showed itself. As far as clues were concerned, the man might have been up there alone.

This didn't make the family very happy, the lack of evidence I mean. They accused the cops of being incompetent. But a state forensic team came in and didn't do any better. There was nothing more for it than to put the poor man in his grave, which is what happened two days later.

The dead man's father was a tough old hunter. He brooded about his son's death until he decided he could get to the bottom of things where the police failed. He called up some friends of his, old hunting buddies, and they made plans to spend the night on the peak and lie in wait for whatever had been responsible.

That afternoon they got their shotguns together and made up thermoses of strong black coffee for their vigil. Then they set out. There were four men altogether and each one was a hardy outdoorsman. They were used to strenuous climbing and were soon out of sight.

The family and friends who knew about this expedition spent a restless night. It might have been a good idea to inform someone, but the cops clearly weren't going to do any more to help. They might even have stopped the proposed ambush, and nobody wanted to make the murdered man's father angry. He was a pretty tough guy and no one was sure what he was capable of.

So, the next morning when none of them came down again, no one was sure what to do. The father would rage if they barged in on him, but what if the party had gotten into trouble? By that afternoon everyone was really upset and concerned, and the cops were finally contacted.

All four men were found on the summit. The worst fears were true. Every man was dead, just as the son had been. They were all laid out side by side, with no hint of a struggle. Their guns were placed along side each body. Two of the corpses were missing the top of their skulls and the brains were gone. One had his skull missing to the lower jaw, just like the original corpse. The father was missing his whole head. As before, there was hardly any blood at the scene.

The people who resided down below the peaks lived in terror after that. Some went on long vacations right there and then. The winter finally ended. No one else had shown enough courage to go up to the snow line, so no one else got killed. When summer came on, tourists began to visit the top of the mountain to see the notorious crime scene. Not even the tough climb dissuaded them. Despite warnings of danger, the peaks were full of nosy sightseers, but no one died. Whatever was responsible for the deaths must have left with the snow.

Even these days, no one will venture up the peaks in years when the snow falls. It's just not worth the risk. But local people have another worry. Like I said in the beginning, snow is pretty unusual in Tabor County. But sometimes, in really cold years, it will fall all over the valley. That's really, really rare. I can only remember it happening twice in my lifetime. It's always a thin snow and doesn't last long. But now everyone's waiting anxiously for the next time this happens. No one can tell what is likely to come down into the valley with the snow.

 

[His Divine Shadow]

Not revealing the culprit, eh? Not even a little bit? Mysterious! Does the entity travel with the snow, coming only during cold months, or does it always reside upon the mountaintop, awakening only during the dusting of white? Like the Yeti, its effects are known to many and yet the creature itself remains hidden. We'll never know for sure what it was ... unless it appears in a future story. No certainty in Tabor County, though ...

 

[Low_Roads]

Thank you HDS! You've perfectly divined my strategy for this story, which was to leave more vagueness than solutions at the end, both as regards the exact nature of the menace and the rules it obeys (the tale more resembles a paranormal report than an urban legend, which is okay... I never intended to tie myself strictly to the urban legend template. Just fine... cattle mutilation next, I suppose XD). I was also after a sense of hanging paranoia... something may or may not descend into Tabor proper on the blue-moon occasion that snow deigns to fall into the valley. One more nagging fear to squirrel into the back of one's mind, ready to be dredged up when more immediate terrors are absent!

 

[Cbarton]

nice lingering effect there, LBH...makes me dread a blizzard ever hitting the valley. This could be something even Blackie and the gang couldn't fight.

A great change of pace. Eager to see if this..well, whatever it is...figures in the future!