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It was a beautiful early summer day. The sun was shining, there were only a few clouds in the sky and a light breeze prevented it from feeling too hot outside. It was the perfect weekend to go on a fishing trip.
My friend Brad and I planned this trip three weeks ago, and we were so happy to find the weather was beautiful and not gray and raining. Brad’s wife brought their two kids over to my house where my wife was staying behind with our son.
I was so happy to be able to go off on this three-day fishing trip. We got everything packed and loaded yesterday, so all we had to do was hook the boat up to the truck and go. We got off to a very early start since the lake we were headed to was a little shy of being a two-hour drive. We did not want to get there too late because we still had to get our tents and camp set up, and our yo-yos tied to some trees.
Every month Brad and I take a mini vacation while our wives watch the children, then two weeks after that Brad and I watch the children while our wives go out and have some fun. Their time away usually did not last as long as ours simply for the fact they spent their money on their weekends much faster than me and Brad. Brad and I slept in tents, ate what we caught and drank beer. Our idea of a great time away from the wives and kids was very cheap compared to our wives’ time away from us.
The drive was very beautiful and scenic. Wildflowers of all colors covered the shoulders of the road and were visible in the open fields on either side of the pavement. Large oak trees dotted the landscape here and there which provided shade for the numerous cattle grazing the bright-green fields. Man-made ponds were located near most of the trees to provide the cattle with water to drink.
We never saw this end of the countryside before as we never went to this particular lake before this. Brad heard about it from another friend of his, and after locating it on a map, we decided that was where we would go fishing this time. We found the lake on a map, so we knew how to get there. Where to go once we got there, we would have to figure out after we got there.
As we got closer to the lake, we saw more trees and less open space. Neither of us knew if the lake was in a forest or in the open, we only knew where it was. Judging by the gradual increase in the number of trees, I thought the lake was probably surrounded by forest. When we got to our turnoff, we found ourselves driving down an old dirt road running through some very dense woodlands.
Driving much slower now, it took us thirty more minutes before we finally spotted the lake. We got out of the truck and walked over to the water to try to figure out how we were going to launch the boat. There did not seem to be any constructed boat landings in this location. I suggested we keep driving a bit more as I was sure there would be a boat ramp somewhere.
We never saw any signs saying this was private property, therefore I assumed this beautiful lake would attract a lot of fishermen. The road was relatively smooth, but the surrounding terrain was very rocky. More than a few cliff faces provided a border for the water’s edge, some of them rough and some of them smooth and eroded. Following another thirty minutes of driving, we located a spot that should be perfect for releasing the boat.
We got everything loaded into the boat then I guided Brad as he backed the truck down to the water. In less than five minutes we had the boat in the water and the truck parked well off the road. This was a routine we went through on numerous occasions, so we performed the task like clockwork. Everything we needed would not fit in the boat at once, so once we found the place we were going to make our campsite we would have to come back and get the rest.
The lake was beautiful, surrounded by trees, rocks and cliff faces. I was really surprised we did not see any other people out here boating, fishing or skiing. The hidden body of water was more than adequately sized for all three of these activities to be going on, but so far it appeared Brad and I were the only ones here.
We spotted a nice area with a small clearing that had a natural grass-covered ramp running to the water from the surface six feet above. The ramp fell between two large rock formations and provided an easy way back up to the flat surface at the top. Brad and I unloaded the boat, set up our tents and went back to get the rest of our things. By the time we were finally finished, it was already noon. Our original plan was to be fishing for several hours by now, but that did not happen the way we planned.
Since it was so late already, we decided to fish from the bank and see what kind of luck we had there. We got a few nibbles here and there, but the water here was too shallow for the larger fish. Brad and I both caught some brim, and I got one decently sized catfish, so we had our supper to fry up tonight.
Once three o’clock came around we brought the beer cooler down to the water’s edge with us. That was one rule we had when we went out fishing; we never started drinking before three in the afternoon. That prevented us from drinking too much too early, crashing and passing out before the sun went down.
By the time we were ready to stop fishing and clean our catch, we caught nearly two dozen fish. Sure, some of them were small, but we had plenty to feed us well tonight. I could not wait to chow down on some fresh fish, and it did not get any fresher than being caught to fried in a couple of hours.
When we first started these trips, we used a stand and built a fire to heat the oil to fry our fish, but on one trip the oil got hot enough to ignite. The hot grease spilled on the ground and the fire destroyed a lot of our gear. Since then, we bring a safe propane tank with an adjustable burner hookup to do our cooking.
We decided against lighting a campfire tonight as we both planned to try to get to sleep soon after we ate. We passed a spot in the lake on our way out here with several large trees reaching far over the water, and we thought that would be a good place to put some spring-loaded yo-yos for catching perch and other top feeders. In order to do much catching with those, we needed to get them out as early in the morning as we possibly could. That meant waking up an hour before sunrise so we would be on the water by sunrise.
We were on our second post-meal beer when we heard something off in the distance. It was so far away and so faint, I was unable to discern what it could be. We both remained quiet, looking out into the forest, as we waited for the sound to come again. After a few more minutes, we heard it a second time. It sounded almost like children trying to imitate the sound of a flock of sheep. There was something more, something that did not sound natural about these noises.
At this point Brad and I decided a campfire would probably be a good idea after all. I surely did not want whatever animals that made noises like that coming anywhere near our camp. Brad got the fire started while I made sure all of our lanterns had plenty of butane. We did not really care for burning our lanterns all night, but the extra light might help keep those animals, whatever they were, at bay.
I was tired and half drunk, so it did not take me long to pass out once I climbed inside my comfortable sleeping bag. I awoke to the eerie baying sound we heard earlier; except this time, it was much closer. It sounded like it could be within fifty feet of our campsite. Now that I could hear it more clearly, I would call it more of a cackling sound than a baying.
It was simply impossible to describe as it sounded absolutely nothing like anything I ever heard before. In all my years of hunting and fishing, I heard all sorts of animals from a wide variety of places, but I never heard anything that sounded like this.
The strange noises did not last long, so I assumed whatever creatures were making them must have passed on by us. Just in case, I retrieved my pistol from the waist of my shorts and laid it beside my pillow. If something did come tearing into my tent, I wanted to make sure I could give it a good reason to go away.
The next morning, I inquired of Brad as to whether he heard the noises in the darkness around midnight. He told me no; he managed to sleep soundly through the night. I was sure it was probably some sort of weasel or small rodent making the strange sounds, but I would feel a lot more at ease if I knew for sure.
It did not take long to get our yo-yos set up. Many of the trees had low lying but sturdy branches to which we could tie the fishing contraptions. Now with these set, we needed to come back approximately once an hour to remove anything we caught and rebait the hooks. During the wait times Brad and I spent either top fishing for bass or sank our hooks low for catfish.
It was so nice being out here all alone. It was so peaceful and quiet; I was satisfied with the fact no one else was out here. My best friend and I sat quietly in the boat with our bait in the water listening to all the wonderful songs nature had to sing for us. The sounds of the birds and insects made me feel calm and serene. Occasionally we would hear fish nipping at the surface, or turtles jumping off a log when something startled them.
Top fishing was not doing us a lot of good in the spot we chose, but we did manage to catch eight catfish. Each time we caught a fish, we tossed it into a cooler filled about two-thirds of the way full of ice. We would dig away some ice to make room for the new fish, toss it in and cover it back up with ice again.
Our yo-yos did surprisingly well for the day. We generally found them to work better at night and when it was cold, but we figured we would try them anyway. We pulled nine white perch out of the lake before we finally decided to head back to our camp and get off the water for a while. Before leaving, we made sure all of the yo-yos were tripped so they did not catch anything after we left. Without coming out to check them regularly, some fish might suffocate before we got around to coming back.
As we cleaned our new catch, Brad and I discussed whether we would like to get back out on the lake to do some more fishing before the sun set, or should we rest up and go out for some night fishing. We would be heading home by dark tomorrow, so we figured if we were going to do any night fishing, it was going to have to be tonight.
Brad fried us up some more fish as I took the remainder of the fillets, rolled them in wax paper and packed them in a clean cooler filled with unused ice. We always kept one cooler for no other reason than to store our catch once we cleaned it. That way the meat stayed fresh and uncontaminated.
We went ahead and swapped out what gear we needed in the boat to go from day to night fishing. Getting everything we needed in the boat, then doublechecking to make sure we had what we needed, Brad and I each retired to our respective tents to grab a few hours of sleep before we set out on the lake tonight.
There was still a good hour of sunlight left when I woke up from my nap. Going over to our beverage cooler, I popped myself open a beer before waking Brad. The ice-cold brew tasted amazing after waking up in that sauna of a tent. Even with the flaps open, I was still sweating.
Guzzling the rest of my beer, I grabbed the drink cooler, Brad grabbed the cooler for the fish we caught, and we headed down the natural ramp to our boat. By the time we cast off from shore, it was almost completely dark. We scouted a few places earlier for where we might want to fish tonight, so we headed to the one we thought would give us the best haul.
The insects were loud enough to be noticeable earlier, but I really loved to listen to the insects at night. In addition to the insects, frogs of all sorts were out in the night croaking, ribbeting and singing their individual nocturnal songs. Every so often it all came together and for a moment they all sang in harmony, and it sounded like the angels singing.
I did not know why, but the sounds of nature always made me feel such at peace. There was no doubt that was why I loved my and Brad’s fishing trips. It gave us time to be away from all the stresses of normal life where we could enjoy ourselves and forget about everything else for a few days.
I started out the night fishing the bottom for catfish, but after catching three of them I decided to switch. Instead of bottom fishing, I switched to fishing with a lure. The moon was out bright tonight, so the twinkling of a spinning lure moving through the water ought to land me at least a bass or two.
Brad started out aiming for the smaller fish. He caught two dozen brim in the first hour alone. Deciding we had enough of those for now, he went to fishing a little deeper with a larger hook in hopes of catching more white perch.
In slightly under two more hours, I added three largemouth bass and Brad added six more perch. It astounded me that there were not any other fishermen out here on this lake. My best friend and I were doing great, so it appeared to me this must be a closely guarded secret. Brad never said anything about his friend telling us not to tell anyone else about this place, but he may have simply forgotten to mention it.
I was changing the lure on my line for a hook to go back to catfishing, and Brad already had his line in the water when we heard that strange, creepy noise again. This time it sounded like it was coming from the top of an eight-foot cliff that made up the boundary of this section of the lake.
This time, being out on the water, we were able to hear the sounds much more clearly. It was a guttural, throaty, goat-like cackle, and there were more than just a few of them. Both of us quietly reeled in our lines, gently set down our poles and removed our firearms from our hips.
I made a soft hiss to get Brad’s attention, then I indicated to him I was going to start paddling us away from this area. We were only fishing ten feet away from the water’s edge. Whatever was making that noise was right above us, and that potentially put us in an extremely vulnerable position. Brad took a seat as I moved us away so he would not fall into the water, but he kept his pistol held firmly in both hands.
Paddling as quietly as I possibly could, I moved us sixty feet or so from the short cliff. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, I told Brad I was going to crank the motor and get us out of here. It would be a lot of noise, but there was no way we were going to quietly paddle our way back to our camp in any less than a few hours.
My friend agreed with me, so once we got a little farther away, I started yanking the cord trying to get the motor started. After I cranked it five times without it starting, I really began to worry. Luckily on my sixth attempt, the motor started roaring. We heard eerily high pitch screaming coming from the top of the rocks we just left, and then in a second it was gone. I believed the loud sound of the boat motor on the water scared away whatever was up there.
Brad now sat in the front of the boat with a spotlight to watch for any obstacles that might be floating in the water. Both of us had our firearms holstered since we needed to be able to use our hands for other things. I never thought to turn on the nighttime running lights, but I did not suppose it really mattered anyway. There was no one else out here on this lake.
It felt like it took us twice as long to get back to camp as it did to get to the fishing spot, and we were moving much faster than we were earlier. Images of all sorts of nasty creatures ran through my head as I pondered what it was up on that cliff making those strange cackling sounds. I did not know if those were the same ones we heard near our camp, or if there were multiple groups of them roaming the forest.
When we reached the shore where we set up our camp, I was not thinking, and I did not raise the motor soon enough. It hit the bottom hard and sheared the pin that kept the prop in place. Once Brad pulled the front of the boat onto land, I jumped out of the back of the boat to retrieve the prop from where it laid in the bottom of the shallow water.
I examined the boat’s motor and there appeared to be no damage other than a few scrapes and the stripped pin. We should easily be able to rig something up using any number of items from our list of fishing equipment. Brad waited until I was out of the water and we both climbed the steep hill as fast as we could.
I noticed immediately and pointed out to Brad that something got into our coolers where we were storing the fish. They were opened, but not overturned. Any wild animal would open the cooler by turning it over on its side, but something opened the lids and left them open.
It was obvious from looking around that whatever took the fish from the ice filled coolers also rummaged around our camp before leaving. As quickly as we could, Brad and I started packing up and bringing our things down by the boat. He suggested we take the most expensive things first, and I had to agree with him. It took two trips to get everything out here, and we did not want to have to come back for more of our things once we left.
All the while we did this, we both found several items that should serve well as a pin to hold the prop in place until we could get back to the truck. I worked on using several pieces of thick copper wire as a makeshift pin to keep the blades and motor connected hopefully at least as long as it took us to get back to where we parked the day before. Once this task was complete, I went back up the hill to help Brad with the last of our things.
I arrived to what remained of our camp to find Brad standing motionless. I could see the terror on his face as he stared at something concealed behind my tent. From my position I could not see what it was, and I did not want to get any closer to find out one way or another. I could not and would not abandon my friend though, and my mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do.
Finally, I drew my pistol from my side and slowly started inching my way toward my friend. I wished he would give me some indication of what to do, but his gaze was fixed on something outside my view. My knee popped and a fraction of a second later I heard those high-pitched screams. Those things did not see Brad standing there until they heard the crack of my bum knee.
I saw the abominations as they fled from our presence. The creatures were small, only a few feet tall, and ran on their hind legs. They looked like goats, like little goats that walked in the upright position. Black fur surrounded their eyes which blended straight into their thick eyebrows. They looked like a lot of pictures of the devil I saw during the course of my life.
Terrified beyond imagination, I fired off three shots from my pistol without even thinking about it. I struck one of the creatures and brought it down, but the rest of them got away. As I stood there in a state of shock, Brad began calling my name. He had to call out to me several times before I finally noticed him.
He was saying we had to go after them. I told him there was no way I was chasing those little creatures anywhere, especially into a dark forest. I said we should get back to the truck and go, just get out of here now. That was when Brad informed me that unfortunately, one of the creatures ran off carrying his fanny pack, which held among other things the keys to the truck.
My stomach churned at the thought of hunting those things down, but if we had to, we had to. I reloaded my pistol and grabbed the biggest flashlight we had. Brad put a banded light on his head and carried another flashlight in his hand. Armed with guns and flashlights, we started down the hill leading through the woods in the direction we saw the creatures flee.
Before we left our camp, I took a closer look at the thing I shot. It almost had a human-like quality to it. Instead of feet or hooves, it had three hoof-like toes on each foot about the thickness of a man’s pinky finger. Short white fir covered its lower body and back. Its arms and hands were like those of a human child with the addition of being covered in a fine, white, felt-like fur. The face was like that of a small goat except that it had no horns on its head.
Brad sternly told me to get moving. We could not let them get too far with our keys or we would never get them back. Reluctantly following him, we ventured deeper into the forest. The ground was rough and rocky for the most part, and we had to be careful so as not to trip or lose our balance and fall. I really did not think there was any hope of getting back our keys, but I would help my friend try.
Those little creatures moved fast, so if they kept on going after leaving our sight, they would be long gone by now. The only hope we had of getting the keys to the truck back was if they only ran a short way and then hid. It was like trying to rabbit hunt in the dark using a pistol while terrified out of our minds.
We searched the forest for fifteen minutes when we heard something that made our bones chill. It was like a loud baying scream, like the sound of a tortured soul. This did not really sound like the small creatures we encountered. Whatever made this noise sounded much larger than those things.
That was it. I was done trying to find the keys we were certain never to find. I told Brad I was going back to the boat, keys or no keys. We could at least take the boat back to the road and walk from there. Searching the forest for his fanny-pack was a futile endeavor. I think that baying scream scared Brad as much as it did me, because he afforded me no opposition on the matter.
We were about half-way back when we heard something coming through the brush. It was moving quickly and would be on us soon. Close to us was a rock formation primarily consisting of three large slabs. It appeared that underneath the slabs was sufficient room for Brad and me to hide. We managed to get ourselves well-hidden before the beasts arrived. We could not see much of them because of our positioning, but we did get a good look at their feet. The feet were the same as the one I shot and killed, except these were much larger and more developed.
Moments later we again heard that baying scream, but this time it was joined by the cries of the others. That was when I realized what I did. Those creatures rummaging through our camp and the ones making all the noise on the cliff, they were just children playing. We were so terrified of the unknown, we never stopped to consider anything. I shot and killed a small child in cold blood, then I looked at it like it was a dead rat.
I was at a complete loss of what to do. All I could think about what the fact that I murdered a child, an innocent child, all because I was afraid of what I thought it was. Now it looked like these beings were gathering together to hunt us down. If that was indeed the case, I would not let Brad suffer for my sins.
I could not say how long we stayed hidden under that slab of rock. I had on my watch, but I had not looked at it since we were out on the boat fishing. I could see what time it was now, but I had no clue what time it was when we hid. Everything remained quiet, and we saw no more feet passing by, so we decided to come out of our hiding places and start trying to get out of here.
Going back to our camp was not an option. If those creatures had any sense, they would leave some of their people waiting at the camp for us to return. Instead, we decided to make our way to a narrow part of the lake and swim over to the other side from there. That would put us close to the truck. Then we could smash the window of the truck and use the navigation service to send out the authorities.
Our camp was to the north, the goat beings came from the south, and we started off to the west. Brad and I tried the best we could to refrain from making any noise as we made our trek in the darkness. Obviously, we could not use our flashlights. Those would just let those creatures hunting us know exactly where we were. We were just going to have to travel by moonlight alone.
This was not an easy task by any means. The moon was out bright, and the pine trees in this area did not provide as much canopy cover as hardwood trees, but it was still very difficult to see where we were going. The semi-rocky ground presented many opportunities to trip on a stone jutting from the ground and fall. I was sure those beings would have a heightened sense of hearing, so remaining quiet was essential to our survival.
When I heard a horn sound not too far behind us, I was sure we were spotted. Those things wanted revenge for me killing one of their children, and I could not blame them for that. If someone shot my child in cold blood, I would take justice out on them myself. Brad had nothing to do with that child’s death, and I could not let him suffer for my ignorance and fear.
Suddenly I cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Brad stopped to help me, but my leg was broken. I was not going anywhere. Brad insisted he could help me along, but I was not going to let him get caught because of me. I insisted he think of his wife and kids. I was not going to make it out of here alive, and there was no point in the both of us dying.
My friend did not want to abandon me, but he knew the reality of the situation just as much as I did. There was no way he could outrun these things supporting me with a useless leg. Tears ran from his eyes the final time I told him to go, get away from here and get back to his family. He threw his arms around me and hugged me tight. We were best friends since grade school. We never did anything without the other one. Now he had to go and leave me here to die to save his own life.
Finally, Brad turned and continued running toward the thinnest section of the lake. Once I was sure he was gone, I stood up and began walking back toward the sound of the horn. The only hope Brad had of getting away was if these creatures got what they wanted, so I had to make him think he had no choice but to leave me behind.
Several of the goat-men emerged from the darkness from all directions. Very slowly and with the tips of my fingers, I dropped the shells from my gun. I hung my head in shame as I stretched my arms out wide, holding the butt of my pistol with the tips of my index finger and thumb.
One of them grabbed my firearm from me from behind, then I felt them seize both of my arms. The creature who was standing directly in front of me, staring at me as the others took hold of me began walking toward me as it withdrew a large bone knife from its scabbard. There was no doubt in my mind this was the father of that poor child I murdered. Even though it was not human, I could still see the pain and anger in its face.
I cried out in agony as I was struck behind the knees with a wooden rod. No doubt my legs really were broken now. The creature in front of me grabbed my hair and forced me to look it in its eyes. It raised its polished blade high in the air, and just before he brought it down, I told him through teary eyes, “I am so sorry. I am a father too. We didn’t know.”
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