The Monster in Whiteside

Calvin turned his head to the backroad that ran out of town. The trees sat perched on the hills, some standing high over the town. They surrounded him.

There was a levity in the air when he stood in town, but there was a weight under the shade of the pines. He'd been in those woods before, a few times. His uncle had taken him. They'd hiked the hills for hours and hours, never had the trees seemed half as tall. Now, they loomed, filled with a palpable darkness. An uneasiness filled him, and it forced his focus back to the parade.

He felt the woods staring at the back of his head, so he shifted over, shielded by red bricks.

--

As the day stretched on, Calvin found that most of the residents were easy-going and more than happy to talk to him. They loved their Shaggy Man.

He'd asked them, "So what is the Shaggy Man?"

None gave a similar answer.

"Why," said an older, seasoned gentleman in a tan hat. "He's like the spirit of the woods. All the bad things that happen out there, you know?"

"A devil," said a younger woman, probably about five years older than Calvin with long, black hair. "Maybe THE Devil, who knows?"

"He's a wanderer who got tired of wandering," said an older woman with yellow sunglasses and short, curly hair. "Too much sun everywhere else, that's why he likes our forests. He just finally settled down."

Then, Calvin asked them, "What's Shaggyfest about?"

"It's a silly name," said that woman with the sunglasses. "But I think it's intentional. It's to make sure that he knows we aren't scared of him."

"It's tradition," said the man in the hat. "Been that way since as far back as my daddy or my granddaddy even could recall. I don't even remember if they knew when it started. We just do it."

"Rumor in school was we did it to appease him," said the black-haired girl. "Yeah, they said that one year we didn't have a Shaggyfest and the Shaggy Man got all angry and pissed-off about it. Lots of bad luck that year. Deaths. Disappearances. All that bad voodoo. So I guess it's a respect thing."

Then, Calvin asked them all, "Do you believe in the Shaggy Man?"

"I've seen some weird stuff," the black-haired girl said. "I don't know if I've seen that kinda weird but, I'll tell you, the forests can play tricks on you. You get bored and you see things move. Hear things too. Things that you know aren't bears."

"The thing is," said the woman in the glasses. "We do have bears, but they're black. They're black bears, and I think yes, I think I do believe there's something out there. I was fifteen, I think, and it was actually over there, by the park, when I saw something move in those trees but it wasn't a bear. It was white. White like the Shaggy Man is supposed to be. Saw him clear as day, right across the creek. I swear to God."

"Yes," said the man with the hat very firmly. "I know he's out there. Too many bad things have happened in this town. Far too many."

And that brought up another question, one that, above all else, Calvin was dying to hear answered.

"What can you tell me about Greg Daniels?"

No one answered right away.

"He's part of the legend now, I suppose," said the man in the hat. "That's about as much as I can tell you. I was overseas at that point, Vietnam. I didn't find out until long after I came back. By then that's all he was. Part of the legend. What do you know about him?"