Wednesday, October 31, 2012
All Hallow's Eve: Scary Story Beginnings
Sometimes to tell a scary story, I think about what would a tough as nails character say was their scariest experience...
Old Port was mobbed by gang of children as he stepped through the door, all of them begging for another story from yesteryear. "All right you varmints, let a man take off his hat and grab a bite before you hear your tale. What will it be this time? Bandits? The Walker War? Ghost story?"
"No, we've heard all those. We need a new one."
"Yeah, Mr. Rockwell a new one, a new one."
Port nodded as the Lady of the house handed him a bottle of his favorite drink, Valley-Tan Whiskey. He slumped into the finest easy chair in the parlor. He tossed a knotty log into the dying fire and rubbed his old hands together. "Give me a minute, get the inspiration flowing," he said, before guzzling the liquor.
A jumble of the children's cries roared out like a river in flood. "What frightens you more than anything Mr. Rockwell?"
"Aww, nothing frightens him."
"No, you shut up."
Port raised his hands demanding silence. "Kids! Simmer down. There's things that have put the fear of God in even me. Things out there in the bleak high deserts, pale things a crawling out of the earth, from tombs and holes and yonder; treacherous things such as you can't even imagine. Things that have driven me to drink on occasion," he said, winking and shaking his bottle for another from the Lady of the house.
"You're pulling our leg."
"Am I? You think I haven't tangled with a few monsters in my time, man and beast?"
"Well, I reckon you have. Sorry sir."
"Yeah, sorry," chimed the rest of the gathering brood.
Port lit a long match and puffed on his pipe. He settled into his chair a little more comfortably and nodded in satisfaction as the Lady brought him another bottle. "Now, where was I?"
The children paid rapt attention as a faraway look washed over Port's face...
*Porter Rockwell: Judgment Day by Glenn Hopkinson