A story of my family; a story of the past; a story of friendship; a story of mystery; but above all, a story of fear
PART I
The Legend Begins
1972
40 years ago, my Grandparents moved into the house, a house they live in to this day, that sat on a hill overlooking the lake. They had four children, one boy and three girls. The second girl was to become my Mother. My Aunt, with whom this story begins, was the youngest of the three daughters. One day, when she was about 10 years old, my Aunt and a friend went for a bike ride down the street by her house. The road traveled along a stretch of farmland on which sat a large house and a red barn. The road came to an intersection a little ways from the house. My Aunt and her friend made a right turn onto Youngs Corner Rd. They left the road and rode their bikes up the hill to the left, straight up to the Northern Woods. Riding on old logging trails and beaten snowmobile paths, they came upon the cabins- 3 small, wooden cabins. No powerlines in sight, no latrine in view. 3 cabins in a semi-circle formation, surrounding a fire pit. As my Aunt went to debark from her bike an old woman came rushing out of the largest cabin. Dressed in black and holding a shotgun in the air, she screamed at the girls. A giant golden retriever barked loudly behind the woman. My Aunt and her friend spun around and rode as fast as they could. Through the woods, down the hill, through the field, on the road, and into the house. Not once did my Aunt look back. For years she told not a soul, until one day she recited the story to her older sister, the girl who would become my mother.
1994
The Legend Begins
1972
40 years ago, my Grandparents moved into the house, a house they live in to this day, that sat on a hill overlooking the lake. They had four children, one boy and three girls. The second girl was to become my Mother. My Aunt, with whom this story begins, was the youngest of the three daughters. One day, when she was about 10 years old, my Aunt and a friend went for a bike ride down the street by her house. The road traveled along a stretch of farmland on which sat a large house and a red barn. The road came to an intersection a little ways from the house. My Aunt and her friend made a right turn onto Youngs Corner Rd. They left the road and rode their bikes up the hill to the left, straight up to the Northern Woods. Riding on old logging trails and beaten snowmobile paths, they came upon the cabins- 3 small, wooden cabins. No powerlines in sight, no latrine in view. 3 cabins in a semi-circle formation, surrounding a fire pit. As my Aunt went to debark from her bike an old woman came rushing out of the largest cabin. Dressed in black and holding a shotgun in the air, she screamed at the girls. A giant golden retriever barked loudly behind the woman. My Aunt and her friend spun around and rode as fast as they could. Through the woods, down the hill, through the field, on the road, and into the house. Not once did my Aunt look back. For years she told not a soul, until one day she recited the story to her older sister, the girl who would become my mother.
1994
My Aunt is now an adult, and has 3 children of her own (my cousins). She lives in the converted farmhouse with the big red barn on Youngs Corner Rd. The same barn she rode past on her bike so long ago. The house faces the Northern Woods. My family and I moved into the house that sits across from my Aunt’s. The field, the hill, and the woods are set behind us.
Occasionally, I see an old woman, far in the distance, walking her dog along the treeline of the forest. She walks down the hill and through the field, but never leaving the treeline. I inquire my Mother as to the identity of the old woman; she recites to me the story of her youngest sister.
The old woman, it seems, is still alive...
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