NIGHT OF THE STRANGER
By Griphen S. Stone
The last thing Allan Carson remembered was kissing his wife Ellen goodnight. A full moon had founds its way into
their camp site and now lay quietly nestled between two tall nearby pines. Jason 13 and Joel 11 had gone to bed
hours ago and were now sound asleep exhausted from the 3 mile hike to the cabin from the small town of
Winterwood 3,500 feet below. The trail had been steep and the forest dense, with many stops in between to take in
the awe of nature. But that was behind them now. No one knew what tomorrow would bring, and frankly, no one
cared.
Suddenly Allan was awakened by the sound of what he though was their front door being breached. Rising to his
elbows he glanced over at his wife. Characteristically she was motionless. Down the short hall their two sons also
remained in a perpetual state of exhaustion. “Just as well”, he thought. Hopefully there would be no need to alarm
anyone. Only dressed in PJs and socks and armed with just a flashlight Allan made his way to the front door. To his
comfort it is closed and intact.
Cautiously he ventured outside. Apparently the moon had been also startled as it had since disappeared, only a
trace visible above the canopy in the distance.
The narrow beam from his flashlight revealed that the door of the shed located to the far side of the cabin was the
real victim of the breach. It had been violently removed from its hinges. Unaware he may not be alone Allan took
slow and deliberate steps approaching the opening. To his relief whatever had been here was no longer. However,
supplement provisions that had not been eaten were destroyed, rendering them useless.
Allan’s blood, flowing with excitement earlier, was now filled with fear and anger. He must gain his composure, yet he
could not. There was a sense of concern that whoever or whatever had done may return. It was then that his
wavering light found additional destruction: An entire cord of wood, once nicely stacked, now lay strewn about. What
was the point of this, he thought? Also it was October and the ground had a fresh coat of leaves and small dead
branches, yet there were no tracks in or out of the area. Perhaps the light of day would yield more answers.
Passing two tall pines on his way back to the front of the cabin gave him an idea. Tomorrow he would set a trap and
then climb into the canopy, perched high above the cabin. This would afford him an excellent view and at the same
time provide safety. His military background, although many years behind him, would once again play an important
role. And he would not be alone. He would enlist his 45 caliber affectionately referred to as Max. Originally intended
to engage in target practice with his sons it would now be used to protect his family.
Those new found intentions would be realized sooner than later. The sound of breaking twigs in the distance pierced
sensitive ears. Something was out there and was moving slowly toward his position. The hairs on the back of his
neck were standing at attention. Time was of the essence. Without hesitation he went back to the shed, retrieved a
coil of rope and threw it over his shoulder. Inside the cabin he fumbled in the darkness to locate his locker. There
max would be waiting. Ellen and the boys remained unaware. “Sweet dreams” he heard himself say aloud. With max
and six rounds he almost exited the cabin. Managing a smile he realized the need to be better dressed. Sweats
would work just fine.
A deafening silence hit him in the face when he returned outside. It was as though he had just walked into the eye of
a storm. But the calm was not comforting. Tucking Max into the elastic band of his sweats he began his ascent into
the nearest tree. The rope would not be used for climbing. He would secure one end of the rope to limbs just above
his perch and let it fall as perhaps a last resort of escape.
It was pitch black. Unaware of the time he gave no thought to sunrise. This was a creature of the night and must be
dealt with on his terms. Allan’s goal was at least to level the playing field. Those thoughts would quickly pass. Once
in his perch he barely had time to set himself. There was movement again. Quietly Allan stiffened his poise and
clears his mind. He couldn’t see a thing but he knew that whatever lurked below was getting closer. Dry leaves and
dead branches announced the beast’s arrival to the immediate area. It now appeared to be heading toward the very
tree where Allan now sat.
“There, there it is!” he said to himself; or so he thought.
His adversary suddenly stopped. Was it his grand revelation or the deafening sound of his own heart pounding that
had given his position away? No longer interested in the remains of the shed this stranger focused its attention on a
bigger prize!
A huge shadow was all that Allan could see, no matter how many times or how hard he rubbed his eyes. Just a
shape, a menacing dark force bent on ending his existence. The beast began its ascent. No place for Allan to go
now. He just sat, frozen in a state of disbelief. No training had prepared him for this. He began to think of his family.
All the while the memory of his life passed before his eyes the unknown assailant below was skinning the tree alive
with every thrust forward.
“Who are you?” What are you?” he screamed. The only response was persistence.
Standing up he fumbled for the rope above him. It dropped as planned but it was too late. The massive shadow
below had grown big orange eyes and now stared in those of blue. They were piercing his soul. Instinctively he
withdrew Max. Sweat from his hand encased his grip. Two rounds managed to echo into the night. “What are you?”
Again he repeated, followed by three more rounds. Slowed but impetuous this force was now inches from Allan. His
eyes, widening like zoom lenses from fear, lent no answer to what pursued him.
There would be one last futile attempt to rid his self of this horror. The nickel plated barrel placed against his temple
was cold. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. Fragments of bone and flesh were carried in the wake of the
explosion. His body shook and collapsed. The ground below rose to greet him with excessive speed. Lifeless and
peaceful his body rolled after impact. The stranger was gone.
The last thing he remembered was kissing his wife Ellen goodnight. She was now rolling him, when shaking proved
futile in her attempts to wake him. He bolted and came to rest on his elbows. He was sweating profusely. In the
distance he thought he could hear shots fired. Before he could speak, Ellen told him that she was concerned
because the boys, impatient and excited, had decided to begin target practice without him. For the moment all he
could do was pull her close and hold her tightly. Releasing her he breathed a sigh of relief.
Rising from his bedside she turned and added “Oh, by-the-way, there is someone here to see you……… a
stranger…….from below”.
I vowed I would never come here again.
By Griphen S. Stone
The last thing Allan Carson remembered was kissing his wife Ellen goodnight. A full moon had founds its way into
their camp site and now lay quietly nestled between two tall nearby pines. Jason 13 and Joel 11 had gone to bed
hours ago and were now sound asleep exhausted from the 3 mile hike to the cabin from the small town of
Winterwood 3,500 feet below. The trail had been steep and the forest dense, with many stops in between to take in
the awe of nature. But that was behind them now. No one knew what tomorrow would bring, and frankly, no one
cared.
Suddenly Allan was awakened by the sound of what he though was their front door being breached. Rising to his
elbows he glanced over at his wife. Characteristically she was motionless. Down the short hall their two sons also
remained in a perpetual state of exhaustion. “Just as well”, he thought. Hopefully there would be no need to alarm
anyone. Only dressed in PJs and socks and armed with just a flashlight Allan made his way to the front door. To his
comfort it is closed and intact.
Cautiously he ventured outside. Apparently the moon had been also startled as it had since disappeared, only a
trace visible above the canopy in the distance.
The narrow beam from his flashlight revealed that the door of the shed located to the far side of the cabin was the
real victim of the breach. It had been violently removed from its hinges. Unaware he may not be alone Allan took
slow and deliberate steps approaching the opening. To his relief whatever had been here was no longer. However,
supplement provisions that had not been eaten were destroyed, rendering them useless.
Allan’s blood, flowing with excitement earlier, was now filled with fear and anger. He must gain his composure, yet he
could not. There was a sense of concern that whoever or whatever had done may return. It was then that his
wavering light found additional destruction: An entire cord of wood, once nicely stacked, now lay strewn about. What
was the point of this, he thought? Also it was October and the ground had a fresh coat of leaves and small dead
branches, yet there were no tracks in or out of the area. Perhaps the light of day would yield more answers.
Passing two tall pines on his way back to the front of the cabin gave him an idea. Tomorrow he would set a trap and
then climb into the canopy, perched high above the cabin. This would afford him an excellent view and at the same
time provide safety. His military background, although many years behind him, would once again play an important
role. And he would not be alone. He would enlist his 45 caliber affectionately referred to as Max. Originally intended
to engage in target practice with his sons it would now be used to protect his family.
Those new found intentions would be realized sooner than later. The sound of breaking twigs in the distance pierced
sensitive ears. Something was out there and was moving slowly toward his position. The hairs on the back of his
neck were standing at attention. Time was of the essence. Without hesitation he went back to the shed, retrieved a
coil of rope and threw it over his shoulder. Inside the cabin he fumbled in the darkness to locate his locker. There
max would be waiting. Ellen and the boys remained unaware. “Sweet dreams” he heard himself say aloud. With max
and six rounds he almost exited the cabin. Managing a smile he realized the need to be better dressed. Sweats
would work just fine.
A deafening silence hit him in the face when he returned outside. It was as though he had just walked into the eye of
a storm. But the calm was not comforting. Tucking Max into the elastic band of his sweats he began his ascent into
the nearest tree. The rope would not be used for climbing. He would secure one end of the rope to limbs just above
his perch and let it fall as perhaps a last resort of escape.
It was pitch black. Unaware of the time he gave no thought to sunrise. This was a creature of the night and must be
dealt with on his terms. Allan’s goal was at least to level the playing field. Those thoughts would quickly pass. Once
in his perch he barely had time to set himself. There was movement again. Quietly Allan stiffened his poise and
clears his mind. He couldn’t see a thing but he knew that whatever lurked below was getting closer. Dry leaves and
dead branches announced the beast’s arrival to the immediate area. It now appeared to be heading toward the very
tree where Allan now sat.
“There, there it is!” he said to himself; or so he thought.
His adversary suddenly stopped. Was it his grand revelation or the deafening sound of his own heart pounding that
had given his position away? No longer interested in the remains of the shed this stranger focused its attention on a
bigger prize!
A huge shadow was all that Allan could see, no matter how many times or how hard he rubbed his eyes. Just a
shape, a menacing dark force bent on ending his existence. The beast began its ascent. No place for Allan to go
now. He just sat, frozen in a state of disbelief. No training had prepared him for this. He began to think of his family.
All the while the memory of his life passed before his eyes the unknown assailant below was skinning the tree alive
with every thrust forward.
“Who are you?” What are you?” he screamed. The only response was persistence.
Standing up he fumbled for the rope above him. It dropped as planned but it was too late. The massive shadow
below had grown big orange eyes and now stared in those of blue. They were piercing his soul. Instinctively he
withdrew Max. Sweat from his hand encased his grip. Two rounds managed to echo into the night. “What are you?”
Again he repeated, followed by three more rounds. Slowed but impetuous this force was now inches from Allan. His
eyes, widening like zoom lenses from fear, lent no answer to what pursued him.
There would be one last futile attempt to rid his self of this horror. The nickel plated barrel placed against his temple
was cold. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. Fragments of bone and flesh were carried in the wake of the
explosion. His body shook and collapsed. The ground below rose to greet him with excessive speed. Lifeless and
peaceful his body rolled after impact. The stranger was gone.
The last thing he remembered was kissing his wife Ellen goodnight. She was now rolling him, when shaking proved
futile in her attempts to wake him. He bolted and came to rest on his elbows. He was sweating profusely. In the
distance he thought he could hear shots fired. Before he could speak, Ellen told him that she was concerned
because the boys, impatient and excited, had decided to begin target practice without him. For the moment all he
could do was pull her close and hold her tightly. Releasing her he breathed a sigh of relief.
Rising from his bedside she turned and added “Oh, by-the-way, there is someone here to see you……… a
stranger…….from below”.
I vowed I would never come here again.
New Hampshire Writers Dark Tales
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