Fear of the Dark (a true story for Halloween)

When I was little I was an able kid, more than adequate to hold my own with the other kids in the small mining town where I grew up. My friend Nick encouraged me not to let other kids push me around. He was a pecking order expert. Outside a couple of shortsighted teachers, nobody messed with Nick.

(Below: my childhood friend Nick today,

standing in my home town of Ouray,

last 4th of July.)

Despite my small size I had physically what it took to be a bully. Had I had a dad who thought fighting was a virtue, I would have been right in there. Fortunately, he thought fighting was something dogs do.   I was easily intimidated by the bluster of the other kids, and that leads me to the topic of today's post.

Nobody - nobody now - is more intimidating than . . .  

The Boogieman.

Everywhere I encountered the dark, he (or it) was in there. I don't mean only some troll waiting to eat me, though that was a popular theme. I imagined bears, mountain lions and any number of mad dogs I knew were all too real. There was no leash law. Dogs roamed the streets in packs.  In my mind Dick Cheney's canine equivalent was lurking in the Skyrocket woods.

Waiting after me.

I had to pass the Skyrocket woods every time I came home after dark. The stretch between the last streetlight and my parents' motel was about 150 yards, and the woods loomed off across the road to the right. There were a great many cottonwoods and box elders, with extra leaves to block the summer starlight. What light came from the two directions illuminated the fringe of the nearest trees. Behind that all was black.

Occasionally I would encounter something on the road. A deer would dart past, or I'd see the slowly-rocking contrast of white and black that alerted me to a skunk. Sometimes a whatsit would crack a twig in those ominous woods.

Now, I knew deep down that the dark is just the absence of light (right?); there is no boogieman, no goblins. Mountain lions that survive to adulthood are those that specialize on one type of animal, learning its habits and paths. This specialization ensures a higher kill rate, and adult lions are too smart to stray from the plan. Black bears are just plain scared of people. There couldn't be any bullies in there; if anything they were more scared of the dark than I was. If you want to see a real coward, pick a bully - any bully.

The light of the motel sign was no help because walking towards it blinded me to the other surroundings and put spots in my eyes - spots that would hang menacing and yellow when I turned my eyes into the forest.

Sometimes though, the yellow spots would hang there in what looked to be pairs - faint enough to be my imagination. When I turned my eyes away, the spots wouldn't move. Instead, there would be something there in my peripheral vision. I couldn't see it because I wasn't looking right at it. If I did look right at it, the ghost of the motel sign light would blot it out.

Oh, the Skyrocket woods creeped me out alright.

In the winter it wasn't so bad, because you could walk quietly on the bare or hardpacked surface of the road. Nothing but owls could be heard in the woods, and who's afraid of owls (when there are bears and lions and cowards in the world)?

One summer when I was about 11 or 12, I decided to take the woods on. If I could demonstrate to myself that the woods were safe, there'd be one less thing to crowd my fragile eggshell mind. *

On my way home that night, I stopped at the pool to go to the bathroom (I'm no fan of "accidents"). At the halfway point, where the run for either light was equal, I turned towards the Skyrocket woods and reveled in the horror of what I was about to do.

I listened.

Quiet.

I closed my eyes a long time so they'd adjust, and then opened them looking only into the dark.

No "eyes".

I walked across and off that safe pavement, where the promise of a car's arrival to interrupt a scene of carnage gives at least some comfort. I climbed up and over the flood barrier that kept the smaller cloudbursts form sending rocks and mud into the road.

I found the darkest spot I could, and I sat down.

If there was anything crazy in those woods that night, it was me.

(Above: edge of the Skyrocket Woods during the day.)

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I've told the story numerous times, and that's how it always ends.

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A while back, I got the March 10th Ouray Plaindealer, and on the front page of my hometown paper was the headline, "Mountain lion suspect in deer kill." Apparently the police had removed a deer carcass from the well-lit intersection adjacent to the school. After a brief inspection, they called the state division of wildlife.

Residents have been encouraged not to feed deer, because that creates a concentration of the lion's apparent prey of choice. When in the woods, travel in groups and make lots of noise. If you see a lion, stay calm, back away slowly and hold up whatever you can to appear larger than you are. If it becomes aggressive throw rocks at it. Aim like it matters (okay, I added that last one).

Do not crouch down.

Closely supervise children, especially around dawn and dusk.

Bring your pets in at night.

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* "Ghosts crowd the child's fragile eggshell mind." - Jim Morrison

Fear of the Dark was previously published on Gather.  I've resubmitted it here in keeping with the holiday spirit.