Okay, so posting the last post about the missionary back home, and at the behest of a friend, I've decided to post this story as well. Again, based on an actual location and events, it's a story of weirdness.
Back in high school, i was always left out of the hangouts. But then, I was always one to be by myself as well. Sometime during my senior year in high school, I had heard about a place called Toad Hall.Now, before I get into this place, let me give you a quick background about where i grew up. IT SUCKS!
Kidding. it does suck, but like every other small town in America, it has it's history. And part of it's history is the fact that the the original town started up on a hill and it was wiped out, all but a few survivors by the Bubonic Plague. And at the spot in the woods, stands a stone cross. Now supposedly, under this cross are buried the local school teacher, the sheriff, the minister and local shop keeper. How true this is, I can't recall. As I vaguely remember reading the history in high school. The cemetery for the town in buried in the woods. But it's not your normal cemetery. This one is nothing more then a open mossy area where no tree's grow. You can step on the moss and like a sponge, it pops back up. It's very hard to find, because of all of the over growth that surrounds it.
Now this area sits on top of a large hill, just outside of the "current" town. And on this hill, it sits in a very shallow valley, maybe 40 feet across. On days when it's 98 out side and not a lick of breeze, you can always feel a cool draft in this valley by the cross. Yet 10' to either side, the draft stops.
So there is a quick background. And it's in this area, that this story takes place. As down the road and over a small hill is another dirt road. If you turn right on this road, maybe 5-600' up the road sit's, (well it used to anyway) Toad Hall. So what is this Toad Hall? It's nothing more then a small 2 story, abandoned house. So what makes it so special then? Actually, just like anything else in the real world, a lot of things make things special. So I will tell you what had happened to me up there.
The back story to Toad Hall is that it was a place where a group of Satanists gathered for their rituals. If I believed in all that, it could be possible. As this place is in the middle of no where, even GOD couldn't find it. But I don't, so. Apparently, every time kids would go up here to have parties, then next time around they would show up, there would be a fairly large toad nailed to the main door of the house. All the blood and guts running down the door from the crucified creature. Hence the name Toad Hall.
Well, the first time I had gone up, I was with a cousin. He drove this shitty ass red pick up. We had pulled into the drive and made our way inside. Nothing really special about the place. Just an abandoned house. We stayed for maybe an hour, looking throughout the inside and outside grounds. Other then a funny looking stilt wall and a small 3' wide creek in the back lawn, nothing I could see impressed me.
It wasn't until the next time I had gone up with my cousin and a friend, when things turned weird. Our friend never seen this place before and wanted to so we took him up. Now, there has been a history of wolves in our area for years due to dear population. But never seen one up close. Until this day. We had arrived shortly before 5pm. Typical fall day for NY. We had parked the same shitty red pick up in the drive. The three of us had made our way inside. While in what used to be a kitchen, we had heard some scurrying around outside. Maybe a dog or something. We went upstairs looked at the garbage left behind by previous guests that wasn't there the last time we were there. Again, we heard the scurrying. Looked out the glass-less windows but saw nothing but a little water in the creek and nothing but woods.
By this time, it was probably a quarter to six. Realizing that there was nothing special with this place, other then a good party hangout on the weekends, my friend wanted to go. So we headed down the stairs back to the dilapidated living room. We all stopped short. For something out of the side window moved and caught our attention. We stood there for a few moments, not breathing, then left. Now, when you walkout of the main door off the kitchen to the drive, you have about a 60' walk to get to the vehicle, since the drive doesn't go all the way up to the house.
We were no more then maybe 20 feet out of the door when we heard a growl behind us. One thing to know about the three of us, first - were all hunters. Deer, bear, turkey, we belong in the outdoors. Second - were all sportsman. Football, basketball, wrestling. We are in shape. And finally, we don't scare to easy. I mean, ever have a black bear stand on it's rear legs in front of you after you shot it?, and still not piss or shit your pants?
Anyway, we had turned to gaze upon a wolf. However, this wasn't your run of the mill wolf let loose by the DEC to control animal population. This thing was at least 3 1/2' tall at the shoulders and was pure white. Minus the dark grey and brown from the dirt and mud. The eyes, normally grey on wolves, were of the brightest blue. Now, im not one to stand there and check out wild animals without a weapon in my hand. But I was in awe. And shaking in my sneakers. This wolf didn't make a move. Just showed us it's pearly whites and snarled. Slowly, we had backed away toward the truck. With in maybe 8 or so feet, we gunned it. Doors opened and closed before you could blink. And there she was. Perches on the hood of our trusty shitty red truck. Nose to window, saliva running out of her mouth. How do I know it was a she? Well, being that big, I didn't see a pair of nuts hanging from the underside, but I sure felt mine sitting in my throat.
My cousin started the truck with shaky hands, put it in reverse and gunned it. Thank god were all red necks, because that's what it took for us to get the hell out of there. As he made it to the dirt road, and he put it in drive, the creature took a swipe at us, but never followed. Later that night, back out our friends house, we had looked at the damage to the truck. Paw prints about the size of Andre the Giants fist dented the hood. And shredded metal over the passenger tire from the swipe. Looked like the reliable beast had lost a fight with a bear. I shit you not, this is all true. And it get's better.
Two days after Christmas that same year, only a few months later from our encounter, my cousin and friend were over to my house. Just the three of us, along with my little brother. Were all playing the NES when there was a loud thump on the front porch. Now, I lived in a two story house with an open front porch, but half enclosed back porch. I turned the light on, but didn't see anything. Ignored it and went back to Skate or Die. A few moments later, we had all heard it again. We paused the game and listened. We heard what sounded like someone walking around outside. Again, porch light on, no one. My friend, being as nuts as he is, opened the door and stood on porch. He stood frozen. He motioned with this hand. On the porch were a half dozen, very large paw prints. About the size of a full grown bear.
Problem is, there were no known bears with in 50 miles of my house. Not to say one or two didn't show up, unannounced. But they weren't bear paws. So we followed the trail of prints to the fence behind my house. About 200' up in the field stands a large lonesome tree, always hanging by itself. And in front of this tree sitting on it's haunches, our friendly neighborhood creature from the Abyss. She didn't move. Even as we got closer to the fence, she didn't move. She didn't even make a sound. Time seemed to stand still, but it had been about 10 minutes of a stare down. Finally she stood and walked up the hill and disappeared in to the woods.
We all looked at each other with blank stares. What the hell was going on? We shrugged and went back inside. This would be the last time we would see our hellacious friend. At least for them.
To Be Continued:
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