What An Odd Night!

 

            It was such a beautiful night. It was the kind of night that made people want to stay outside, no matter how late it got to be. It was chilly, but not frosty yet. There was some snow lying around under the trees, leftover from the first snow of the year.
            The moon was shining, and here and there its light could be seen on the forest floor. But a persistent wind was hustling a few clouds across the face of the moon once in a while, darkening the night intermittently. The scene seemed to hold a promise, but of what?
            A great gray owl floated silently through the clearing, examining the forest floor.
            Even after the dinner of roast wild turkey and some of that strange large squash, Ralph just didn’t feel drowsy. The night was calling, and he was hearing the call. Mysterious impressions drifted just beyond his consciousness.
            “What a night!” he thought. “I’m not sleepy at all!  I wonder if that squash does that? I’ll ask Thaga.”
            He was standing mostly in shadow watching the play of moonlight as it moved across the forest floor when, incredibly, he heard voices. “Who in the world would be out here in the middle of the night?” he asked himself in wonder. Just as a precaution, he became imperceptible to regular eyesight. He was intrigued.
            “This place looks haunted as heck,” said one youthful male voice.
            “Ben, I don’t like it,” said another.
            “Oh, come on! They say if you come out here on this night, you could see something pretty weird,” said Ben.
            A third voice said, “don’t mess it up by being a baby, Melvin!”
            “Easy for you to say, Karl. You don’t have any imagination at all,” said Melvin in a quiet whisper, as the three young men wandered into the Home Clearing from the direction of the two lane highway just a short walk through the forest.
            They were dressed all in dark clothing and hats, as if they imagined themselves to be very stealthy. Two of them were very white of face, which showed up just fine in the moonlight. The third, who seemed to be the one called Ben, was darker, and almost invisible.
            As Ralph watched, the owl came back. It flew over the boys' heads. In the next moment there was a small dying shriek a short distance away.
            “What was that?” cried Melvin.
            “Nothing,” said Karl, sniggering.
            “It was an owl. I’m out here with a chicken and an idiot,” said Ben. “An owl is not what we're looking for, is it?”
            “What are we looking for?” said Melvin, who was wondering how he had gotten himself into this excursion.
            “Proof. Once and for all,” said Ben in a hushed, dramatic voice. “I’d bet anything this is a Sasquatch camp, right here! That old Indian said it was somewhere up here, and I want to see them.”
            Ralph’s invisible eyebrows went up.
            “I wish we had some beer,” said Karl. “I’m bored.”
            “I don’t think we should be here,” said Melvin, rather forcefully for him. “What if they don’t want us here, barging around acting stupid?”
            “They? What they? There isn’t even a ghost out here,” said Karl.
            Karl wasn’t the only one getting bored. Ralph was tiring of this cornball drama being enacted so near his home, and his sleeping family. So, taking a cue from the kids, he began a low ghostly moan. He made it throb. It was almost subliminal. But it still got their attention. It felt, to them, like being hit with big soft waves of ominous warning.
            The boys froze in their places, uttering not a sound.
            He walked up near to the trio and screamed like the famous Banshee of Ireland. He decided to hit them with some odor too. It was pretty rank.  The boys retched.
            Seeing that those efforts seemed to be working nicely, Ralph made a sound like boulders rolling down a steep incline and getting closer and closer.  This was a new trick, and he had been wanting to try it out.
            Ben, who wanted proof, and Karl, who had no imagination, abandoned the whole idea and simply ran for the highway and Ben’s Ford, leaving Melvin there by himself.

         Seeing himself alone, he relaxed and looked all around at the big trees, the moonlight on the forest floor, and the scraps of leftover snow. The picture seemed to enchant him. He smiled at it all.
            “If you’re here, I’m not scared. I’m sorry we barged into your forest,” said Melvin.
            “It’s alright,” said Ralph, appearing rather gradually to give the kid time to adjust. “I’ve seen blockheads like that before and some of them were Forest Keepers. I could name a few that live right around here.” He smiled at the kid, hoping he truly wasn’t scared.
            “Wow! You’re real!” said Melvin.
            “So are you,” said Ralph, giggling. “Who knew?  We’re both real!"
            “Now you have seen the truth, and they ran away like babies, Melvin. How about that? But I tell you what.  I’m getting sleepy, so I’m going to send you home.  This works great. Just close your eyes Melvin and think of home, and you will be back before they hit the outskirts of Milltown.”
            So, Melvin did as he was told, still grinning and very happy, and Ralph sang a song of going home, in the second person, and in a couple of verses, he was alone again in the moonlight.
            He shook his big old head, laughed at the night’s business, and headed on home to bed, with still several hours before sunrise.