Out of the Frying Pan

Kentucky Legends & Lore

My next story here is for those who like the unusual. First I’ll tell you of one of my own experiences.

When I was a kid, there were other means of entertainment, not TV or radio. Not music. There were stories.

Some were passed down from one generation to the next, and they were vivid and caught the imagination to the fullest. There were happy stories, sad ones, and some downright frightful ones. Now, that’s entertainment to me.

My favorites were the scary ones – some bad witches, devils or just a scary place. Of course a place you would know – like the big oak tree at the top of the hill in Hinsley Hollow. Local legend had it that on a rainy night, you could see blood come out of the tree’s bark where a man was killed by a wagon that pinned him to the tree.

My brothers and I went to look one stormy night. It was pitch black with all the other trees around. Even if the moon had been out, its beams couldn’t have penetrated through the leafy canopy above. We had lanterns and they helped some, but only lit an area a few feet in diameter.

Our Uncle Hayes took us out there and let us out at the bottom of the hill, telling us to walk up there and look for ourselves. Protected by our raincoats from the downpour, we started up that hill. The lightning flashes made our surroundings look even more spooky, and the tension between the three of us grew with each step as we ascended.

The road was dirt back then, a river of mud that night. We stayed out of the ruts that were formed by the wheels of vehicles owned by those who lived in the Hollow. Funny how a little light in a dark place can change the appearance of a place that seems harmless and familiar in the daylight. When that scarce lighting is provided by lanterns, it makes things appear to be moving that one hopes are not.

We slowly made our way up the hill. My twin brothers were five years older than me, so I was surprised to hear Lanny say, “I believe him, okay? We don’t really have to go the rest of the way.”

“You’re not chickening out, are you?” asked Lenny. “Besides, Uncle Hayes can probably see our lanterns and so he’d know if we didn’t go.”

Of course Lanny replied, “I’m not chickening out. I was just saying I believe him, that’s all.”

Lenny asked me, “How about you, Mike? You going back chicken?”

I turned around and looked at him. “I’m the one who’s in front. Look who’s callin’ who chicken.”

Well, that did it, Lenny took the lead. I said to Lanny, who still looked a little nervous, “He can be first dead if he wants. I’ll just knock you down if you’re in my way,” and then smiled. I could tell that didn’t help him none.

We made it to the place where there’s a fork in the road. At that point, the two roads curve around each side of the hill and continue upward. We knew we needed to go left toward Mr. Johnson’s place, and right around the next curve, that’s where the oak tree was.

With the rain hitting the hoods of our raincoats, it was hard to hear each other so we had to talk loudly. I hoped we weren’t so loud that we would wake the dead. We were slipping and sliding in the mud and our boots kept getting stuck. I hoped that my boots didn’t get pulled off. We just kept trudging forward and soon there it was, just a few more steps away, the big old oak.

I’d been down that road many a time in the daylight, and had never paid much attention to that particular tree before, but now I saw that it was huge. It must have been forty-five or fifty feet tall, with enormous branches in all directions. We got closer then held our lanterns up toward it, looking for traces of the legendary blood.

About five feet up from the base of the tree was a red spot. It was big, about two-and-a-half feet wide. Right in the middle of that spot was a divet.

I’m tellin’ ya, it was blood red.

My brothers suggested that I touch it. It wasn’t like I had a choice, once they’d suggested it. I knew if I didn’t, I would never hear the end of it.

So I reached out and just when I was about to touch the red spot on the tree, lightning flashed the sky and a loud crack of thunder sounded. I jerked my hand back and paused for a moment.

Lenny said, “Go ahead and see what’s it’s like.” I could tell by his voice that he was a little short-winded from being startled, which was pretty much like I felt right about then. I reached out again. Lightning or not, I was going to do this.

As my fingers neared the mysterious red spot, someone yelled, “Don’t touch that!”

We spun around and there was Mr. Johnson with a flashlight, just laughing to beat ninety as he had almost scared the water out of the three of us. I flinched away as I realized that my hand was flat up against the tree, the only support around to keep me from falling down the hill. I looked at my hand and couldn’t see if there was anything on it, but it was wet so I wiped it on my raincoat just in case.

About then, we could hear laughter coming from the other direction. It was my Uncle Hayes.

“Carl,” Uncle Hayes called out, “you sure scared them good!”

Mr. Johnson called back, “Didn’t you tell them that if they touched that tree, they would be marked?”

“Nope, I forgot about that,” my uncle said. I thought to myself, Great, I’m marked, whatever that means. So I asked.

“Oh, that,” Mr. Johnson said, “That’s a part of the story that was added through the years, to see if anybody was brave enough to do it. It was said if you touch it you will dream how the person died, but you will be that person in your dream.”

“That part is only a tale,” Uncle Hayes said, “but the other ain’t.”

Mr. Johnson gestured in the general direction of his place. “Let’s get out of the rain, okay?”

“Carl,” Uncle Hayes said, “I can’t get my truck up the hill in this.”

“Neither could I. My truck is parked at the bottom of the hill, too, and I had to walk home. But at least I have that old military Jeep,” Mr. Johnson said, “it ain’t completely waterproof without the doors, but at least I can drive it through this mud.” We walked up a ways and there set his Jeep.

“How long have you been out here?” my uncle asked.

“Oh, I came out about fifteen, twenty minutes after you called.”

We looked at Uncle Hayes and he just grinned.

...To be continued...