Twisted

Russell had finally found the courage to tell Lillian why it was that he disliked the only night out of the year in October that the harvest moon fell upon. His story began as if he were trying to protect his credibility as a man only to reveal he was protecting so much more than that and Lillian was about to learn so much more about her man than she ever expected. Russell tolerated snakes, spiders, and weird creatures that roam the prairie land after dark. He was certainly not afraid of heights or the dark, and he loved a great ghost story around a blazing campfire with many friends and family. I guess one could say that Russell could be labeled as a fearless person with one exception, his fear of a full harvest moon. His reasons that supported his dislike, was because of an old legend told to him by his grandpa when he was a small boy. The legend was told every year just before Halloween, and always on the night of the harvest moon, weather the moon shone bright in the night sky or was sleeping behind a blanket of rain clouds – whatever the October date was on the calendar of the full moon, the story was told. He remembered sitting in the old farm house at the huge oak dinner table. All the candles would be burning bright in copper sconces as a fire crackled hot in the fireplace. The family would gather round to hear grandpa’s traditional tail – “Mystery of the Harvest Moon.” After packing his pipe, he would lean back in his chair staring at the fire, puff a few rings from his pipe to add a little dramatic emphasis and then would tell his tale, “I recon it was early 1900’s or so. It was five local farmers and I all doing our best to get our crops in off the grounds before the threat of an early winter storm was upon us. Last thing we wanted to do was to lose the crop. It was our life line, and they needed this nourishment as this would be all they had until the next harvest. We knew that it was never a good idea to be in the fields after dark during that time of year with all the hungry coyotes, wolves, and occasional brown bear that were doing their best to fatten up as they prepared for their winter months too.” Then he took another drag from his pipe. “I warned your grandfather that being out after dark, will bring nothing but trouble.” Grandma Nettie chimed in as she took a hot pumpkin pie out of the oven and placed in on the table to cool. “Hush up old woman,” grandpa scowled, “This is my story tonight.” “Then get on with it. Pies getting cold.” she said in a grandma’s unique way. Grandpa cleared his throat and then continued on with the telling of his tale. “We knew that we didn’t have much time to get the crops out of the field, as the full moon displayed two huge glowing rings around it and we all knew what that meant – snow. We did our best with the tools that we had then, and against the wishes of the women folk, we worked into the night. Now being young men in our beginning twenties, it was hard to convince us otherwise. As we worked hard cutting the crops and placing them in the wagons, we could hear the coyotes at the edge of the fields, howling at the moon and taking in the scent of human flesh dancing across an occasional wind that passed us. The horses began to get spooked, but still we continued to work until just about midnight. It was at about this time that I began to feel a bit agitated, itchy, and was met with a rancid taste in my mouth. It was a peculiar sensation that I had never before felt and thought that I might have been touched with a case of sour stomach. Now I don’t recall how I got home that evening, but was feeling much better when I awoke the next morning. I went downstairs to a breakfast fit for a king and fresh coffee percolating on the stove. My sweet Nettie had mentioned that she had been up half the night cleaning up my mess, which I assumed was from my sour stomach. It wasn’t until the sheriff knocked on our door I realized the mess that she was forced to clean. It was then I learned what had happened to the others who worked in the fields with me that night. The sheriff believed that the other men had been attached by coyotes and or wolves. It was so hard to tell as there was nothing but pools of blood, scattered horse carcasses, and several drag marks that looked like it was made by human bodies. It was then I knew it was due to the horrific powers of the Harvest Moon. I had been told similar stories from my father and grandfather when I was a boy, and just thought it was an urban legend just to scare us before going out on all Hollow’s eve. It wasn’t until I found my pair of boots, which I had worn that night, covered in blood did I know what truly happened.” “Oh Harold your scaring the kids. When are you going to learn that you are not responsible for what happened. You were trying to provide for your family and fell ill.” Grandma Nettie said in a stirred voice. “You keep telling this tale, and your farm will be doomed for certain.”