Two hunters venture into the wooded mountains of the Mountain West where they come upon the ruins of a frontier town not marked on any maps. An aged man, must be more than a century old, was there at the founding, and tells the two why no one must ever settle on these lands again. -- Anon Guest
There was no such town on the map, yet the town was here. Well. The remains of the town was here. There were buildings, but they were in the process of being gradually disassembled. Jim-bob and Bubba could only guess at what they were in their heyday. It was spooky.
There were no sounds. No birds chirped. No wolves howled. Even the wind was still and quiet. There should have been creaking. There should have been scuttling noises. There should have been something other than the eerie silence. Even the two hunters quieted their tread in the sepulchral stillness.
They almost crapped themselves when the old-timer came around the corner. They did scream a little bit. The old coot had to blink a couple of times to absorb the fact that they were actually there.
"You boys shouldn't be here after dark," he said, voice rough with disuse. "There's a curse on these lands."
"Well, we don't know how to get back to our cars before dark so... can we bunk at your place?" asked Bubba.
"We'll split firewood or whatever, if you don't take cash," offered Jim-bob.
"Kind of you boys. Kind of you. My old hut's about the only thing with a roof around here... Ain't gonna do you much good. This whole place is cursed. Nothing not born here's gonna last long. Guess I should hospitible at least." He made a gesture to follow him and resumed hauling his yoke and pails up the dirt road.
"Can we help with that?" said Jim-bob. "That's gotta be a chore."
"Eh, ain't no big deal, but I'll let y'all be neighbourly. Weight off'n my shoulders, anyhow."
Bubba and Jim-bob each took a pail, shifting their shotguns to their other shoulder and allowing the old-timer to carry the much lighter yoke.
"Nothing born here gets to live?" asked Jim-bob.
"Naw, sonny. Nothing lives here long if it ain't born here. I was born here, so I got lucky. Rest o' this ole town... curse got 'em. One by one. Curse'll get you too."
The old man had a stew bubbling on a cauldron, and the water went into the kettle. "Water's better boiled, but I ain't got coffee. It's tea or boiled water. Can't say I much like boiled water with nowt in it."
They agreed on tea and saw to Old Joe's instructions for where their bedrolls could go. Old Joe had a couple "from before" to make their overnight stay a little more comfortable. Old Joe sipped his tea as Jim-bob and Bubba took their share of stew.
"Might as well tell us about this curse," said Bubba. "We got some time before shut-eye."
"Fair, fair..." Old Joe sipped his brew. "It was damn near a century ago, now. Shortly after this very cabin was built, I was born. That's when the curse hit. Maw died. My brothers and sisters died. Da died... my aunts and uncles' family followed soon after, as I was passed on to them. Then my aunts and uncles left this sinful world. I was a youngin' by then, working for my keep. The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker... one by one the whole city fell. The dogs that were bought in. The cattle that was bought in... One by one. Dead. Hell, even the local deer, wolves, and bears died. The birds. The squirrels. Nothin' lives. Nothin' lives but me. I've been pulling all the old houses down for firewood. Growing and hunting for food. But anyone who comes up here... well. They don't last long."
"Any reason why?"
"I get me too hungry, I guess. Been a long time since the last fools found this place. Been a long time since I had fresh, young, human blood." For the first time, Old Joe smiled, and long fangs flashed in the firelight. "I always get greedy."
Jim-bob and Bubba leaped for their shotguns. Aimed and fired.
The old man laughed.
And then the valley was fully silent once more.
[Photo by David Gylland on Unsplash]
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