Buckenstein

My suspicions were first aroused two years ago.  I was climbing down from a tree stand, when the Captain called.

"I just shot a doe and 10-point, and I need your help!"

I arrived on the scene a few minutes later to find the doe in a heap beneath Mike's stand, but the buck was nowhere in sight.

We picked up a blood trail and tracked the animal into a swamp as darkness fell.  Just when we were sure it would turn up any second, however, the trail disappeared.  A couple hours later, so did our hopes of finding the big buck.

Over the next two seasons, there were more instances of big deer that had been hit right in the vitals but never recovered.  Then, when I lost my job this past summer and started a part-time business removing dead deer from people's yards to make ends meet, I began to realize that something was really wrong.

People called to have dead deer removed, but often when I arrived the carcass was already gone.  One lady called before I even got there.

"The deer was in my yard this morning, but when I got home from work it was gone," she said.

It didn't happen every time.  I was paid well to scrape up a number of does and small bucks.  Yet it seemed that every time a homeowner called to ask me to render a big buck, the animal was gone before I could get there.  At one such scheduled pickup earlier this week, a camouflage van sped past me in the other direction as I pulled up to the house.  I knew the deer and accompanying payday were a loss to me, so I made U-turn and went after the van.  My efforts at solving the mystery were in vain though, as the driver proved to be a master of evasive action.  The van vanished in traffic at dusk.

Then yesterday, as I glassed a field at Camp Cowboy, I saw the van again.  Only this time it headed down a narrow track into the woods at the edge of the same swamp where the Captain lost the buck in 2007.  I donned my camo and crept toward the spot where I'd last seen the vehicle, determined to find out what was going on.

The woods and swamp seemed to have gotten bigger, and I passed stumps and crossed creeks that I'd never seen before.  I followed the trail for hours, undaunted even as rain began to fall.  I noticed a dim glow coming from a clearing up ahead and glanced at my watch.  It was 11:50 p.m.

Muffled noises came from the source of the light as I belly-crawled toward it.  Lightning flashed in the distance, and thunder rolled through the gloom a moment later.  The rain got harder, the sound of the drops making it easier for me to creep undetected toward the light and whoever or whatever was in that clearing.

At the stroke of midnight, lightning flashed again, this time filling the woods with blinding light.  A deafening clap of thunder was followed by a blood-curdling shriek.

"It's alive!  It's alive!"

Too bewildered for further caution, I scrambled to my feet and peered into the clearing.

There stood a bespectacled old man, his face covered in beard stubble and camouflage face paint.  He wore a lab coat, also in camo, and I noticed that something was emerging from the back of the van. 

At first, all I saw was a huge set of antlers; then a nose and a neck as big around as a tire.  The top of the van buckled and ripped in half as the huge buck stood.  It bounded out of what was left of the vehicle and revealed its full stature.

The 28-point buck stood taller than any moose and looked like it outweighed some elephants.  Its grunt sounded more like a roar, and the hole it made when it pawed the earth with its massive hoof looked more like a crater.

The madman who had created this beast stood in front of it and cackled.  His maniacal laughter came to an abrupt halt, however, when the buck lowered its head.  I shuddered and covered my eyes as the man I've since come to call "Dr. Buckenstein" was impaled on an antler and tossed off into the swamp like a rag doll.

How I was spared the wrath of this 28-point killer buck I'll never be sure.  The only possible explanation is that earlier that evening I'd sprayed down my clothes with scent-elimination spray (and we all know those things really work, right?")

The buck lingered in the clearing only a moment longer before it charged off into the swamp thickets.  On the way out of the swamp, I moved slowly and quietly, careful not to give away my location to the monster.  For the first time, I felt like the deer were hunting me.

I made it home at dawn, but I know he's still out there.  And with the rut kicking in, he'll want to breed.  If Buckenstein's monster reproduces, Camp Cowboy will be overrun.

We must kill that deer!  Before it's too late. . .

Boo!  Happy Halloween Everybody!

Comments

[Babar]

You had me until you said it was 11:50 pm. You'd never stay out so late!

[Rex]

very interesting, I love a true spooky story

[Blessed]

great story!

[Sassy]

So glad you're safe!!!!

[jec]

What Babar said! I was getting really nervous until I saw that time. I pictured you creeping up on armed, maniacal hunters! or deer! Ha ha--you should be a writer.

[Lucy]

Love the story Matt!

[Tom]

Nice!