As Long As I Am Around Here

As Long As I Am Around Here

MG Stough

2010

Scritch.

Scritch. Scratch. Scritch.

Yaarrrrow... rrrrrrrmph.... Gutteral growls could be heard wafting on the wind. Claws worked their menace across the surface of the pine shakes on the roof. Hungry snuffling sounds whiffed down the chimney into the hearth.

Thump. Tump tump tump. Scritch. Scritch scratch! Something big wanted into the cabin. Something hungry wanted to eat.

Little Mary lay in bed paralyzed with fear. A monster was outside. It wanted inside. Mary was seven years old and small for her age, her brown hair straight and glossy smooth, her dark eyes full of joy so often, her smile so ready to share, the sight of her terror stricken face somehow made this moment in time even more frightening. Mary's doll watched her mutely, its face usually happy but impassive now seeming to share Mary's terror. Mary clutched her little porcelain doll's fabric body a little tighter to herself and took a deep deep breath.

As the air shuddered out of her chest, little Mary reached over and tapped Grandpa Wilkes on the shoulder. His breathing had remained slow and measured throughout this ordeal. He was deeply asleep, exhausted from working all day yesterday in the woods felling trees and gathering firewood. Grandpa did not react to the light tapping.

Scritch Scratch SCRITCH! It was becoming more demanding in its attempts to gain entry to the cabin. CRACK! One of the pine shakes broke off. There, on the roof, through that hole that had just been made between the rafter poles, one single solitary green orb of an eye stared down at little Mary. Her breath caught in her throat! The monster wanted... her.

The monster wanted to eat her. A cruel, wickedly long clay reached in and hooked another of the pine shakes, trying to wrench it loose and widen the hole in the roof. The beast was hungry and wanted to eat her. Little Mary squeezed her eyes tight shut and said a desperate prayer for protection, then, hoping that it was just a dream and she could wake up unscathed, little Mary slitted one eye open to peer up toward the roof. Blood crusted fangs flashed behind an evil yowling challenge. That hideous orb of an eye glowed like fire caught in an emerald. It stared fixedly at little Mary. It wanted to eat her.

Gran'pa! Little Mary whispered at her Grandfather who slumbered peacefully beside her. Mary lay in that bed unable to move, with nowhere to run. The hideous scritch scratch of the monster's claws scrabbled across the roof of the cabin. Gran'pa, little Mary whispered a little bit louder. She reached out under the covers and used one tiny index finger to poke at the warm body lying next to her in the large bundle bed. Gran'pa, somethin's tryin' to get in to the cabin. I'm scared, Gran'pa.

The soft snoring stopped. The measured rise and fall of the chest stopped. Grandpa rolled out of bed and grabbed his heavy wool coat. There was no hesitation in the old man's movements. There was no evidence of fear or trepidation. Silently, with strong hands and cabled muscles coursing up and down his arms, Grandpa Wilkes slipped on his battered old leather boots.

Walking over to the hearth, Grandpa picked up a couple of medium sized logs and stoked up the night fire. That would keep it from creeping down the chimney. Grandpa Wilkes reached up and grabbed the old black powder shotgun from its hooks above the mantle. He picked up his possibles bag and removed the powder horn, pouring a charge of gunpowder down the barrel of the gun. Next, he used the wiping rod to seat a felt wad against the powder in the gun's chamber. Finally, Grandpa used the rod to seat a small cheese cloth bundle of tiny river rocks, cut bits of bent nail and lead pellets against the wad. The shotgun was almost ready to fire. Grandpa Wilkes checked the charging hole and then placed a primer cap on it, then cocked the hammer with a click of finality. Don't you worry, Mary. Grandpa said as he opened the cabin's door. Long as Grandpa is around here, nothin's going to hurt ya. As he stepped out of the door into the cold, dark winter's night, the old man gave his granddaughter a warm comforting smile and a wink. Grandpa was going to protect her as he always did.

Silently little Mary lay in bed, listening, eyes shut tight. Fighting not to let a single tear fall from her eyes, she waited for the loud report of Grandfather Wilkes' shotgun. That would be the signal that the ordeal was over. The monster would be dead and she could sleep safe and sound again.

Grandfather Wilkes' feet fell with solid thumps on the porch boards out front. He was working his way around to the left side of the cabin. He would step out from under the shed roof of the porch and take aim at the evil creature that was staring down at her through that hole it had ripped in the roof.

Tump! Tump! THUMP! YRRRROOOWWWWW! The monster crossed the long roof and leaped into the air, screeching its hideous blood curdling challenge! It was leaping in Grandpa's direction, little Mary realized. Oh no, Please GOD No! Little Mary pleaded with The Creator. She heard Grandpa Wilkes' feet shuffle off of the porch and a startled exclamation as he faced the flying menace from the roof.

Precious expanses of waiting slipped in between the seconds, squeezing down like a vice clamp on little Mary's thudding heart.

BOOM! Grandpa's shotgun gave forth its message of absoluteness. Silence settled about the cabin, inside and out. The only sound that could be heard was the pop and snap of the fire in the logs as they crackled in the hearth. The flames in the hearth made strange ghastly shadows leap about the cabin walls, ceiling and floor. Little Mary lay there under the covers, eyes squeezed shut, waiting for her Grandpa's calm deep voice to announce that all was safe and secure now.

Nothing came. Mary pried one of her eyes open just a slit, then shut it tight again, not wanting to be alone in the cabin just then. She could feel the icy fingers of fear crawling up the side of the bed, slithering toward her like a venomous snake. Where was Grandpa? What was happening? Her heart seemed louder and louder with each beat, seeming to echo against the cabin walls.

Tump. Tump. Tumptump. Heavy foot falls sounded on the porch.

Different. They were different. Little Mary's heart caught for a moment, then started up again with a staccato beating like a drum at a wild Indian dance festival.

Tumptump... Tump... Tumptumptump... Those foot falls came closer and closer to the cabin door. Did Grandpa latch the door? Did he leave it ajar? Where is Grandpa?

RRREEEEEK went the door as it swung open. Pale starlight reflected off the sparkling blanket of snow out front of the cabin. There, framed in the doorway, stood the most hideous monster that had ever been come to life in a little girl's eyes. Little Mary could not stop looking at it, no matter how frightened she was, and it kept looking at her with those baleful green orbs of fiery emerald. A thin line of saliva drooled off of a large curved fang. Dark crimson and brown stained the furry lips as they curled off of those hideous sharp teeth.

Panther. Oh God! It's a panther. Little Mary shuddered, frozen in place in the bed. She stared at the evil beast, transfixed in its hypnotic hungry stare. It wanted her. It desired her. It was hungry for her.

One foot, long rending claws clacking on the floor, stepped into the cabin. In a moment, it would pounce upon the bed and engulf little Mary's head in its massive jaws, crushing the life out of her little brain as her blood spattered the sheets and covers. Little Mary knew this would happen and she could do nothing about it. Her heart sobbed. Her spirit wept. Her soul desperately called for salvation. Grandpa! Where are you? Help me!

The monster's shoulders and haunches gathered. Massive muscles coiled to unleash death into the cabin. Then, at the moment of release, as the hideous furred creature sprang into the air, launching its massive frame at little Mary, a single pale hand reached out of the dark night and grabbed hold of that golden tail that trailed behind the mountain panther's body. Heavy muscles in strong forearms stood out as the rock hard biceps flexed. The torn shirt, spattered with dark blood, yanked the animal right out of the cabin. A horrendous scuffle echoed about the yard and the nearby trees as a fight of epic proportions between two determined creatures ensued.

Little Mary listened as endless moments passed by. She could hear the thumps and bumps as two large bodies beat each other to death. Harsh yells and curses. Hideous cries and snarls. Snapping tree limbs, cracking bushes, thumps and bumps and whumps moved about the yard and forest. Then, with a single high pitched screeching sigh, silence settled again. The night returned to its former peaceful quietude.

Little Mary lay there in the bed, once again terror stricken. What had just happened? Did Grandpa save her? Was the monster dead? Or was... she stopped her thoughts. She did not want to think about the other possibility. Paralyzed like an invalid, she could not escape the bed, and still that cabin door stood wide open. She was vulnerable. She lay there awaiting her fate.

A dark shadow blocked the pale snow light. It was not the monster. It was Grandpa. Tall, strong, shoulders and neck slightly stooped with age and hard knocks, he came into the cabin. The door was closed. The latch was set. The bar was placed across the door to double its security. The shotgun was placed back into its place over the mantle. The coat was hung on the bedpost. The old battered boots were shucked into their place next to the headboard. The covers were drawn back and then replaced as he lay down to sleep again. Don't you worry, little one. Long as Grandpa is around here, nothin's going to hurt ya.

Little Mary snuggled down into her spot in the bed again, enjoying the warmth again. She gave a sigh of relief and drifted off to sleep again. She felt the solid weight of Grandpa Wilkes lying next to her on his side of the bundle bed. Grandpa's body was cold. He had been outside in the chill night. As she felt slumber take her, little Mary reached out and patted her Grandpa on the arm, whispering, Thanks Grandpa. You saved me. I Love you.

In the morning, little Mary rolled over to find that Grandpa Wilkes was not in bed. He must have gotten up early to go out and collect more fire wood or to hunt up something to add to their winter store of food stuffs. Mary took her patchwork robe from its place on the bedpost and wrapped herself in its welcome warmth. She walked over to the hearth and stoked up the fire a little, then banked some of the coals and placed the cast iron kettle of water on it. Taking a small sack of cloth, she smashed a hand full of coffee beans and chicory and poured it into the bag. This she tied shut with a piece of twine, and then entire packet was dropped into the water to make the day's coffee for Grandpa. Little Mary would drink her small cup of the stuff as well, but not until the biscuits were ready. She took some flour and water and a little of the milk from the cold room and a little of the butter and some salt and leavening powder, and little Mary began mixing and kneading the dough to make cat ear biscuits. She put fully a dozen raw biscuits into the dutch oven and struggled it into the hearth's main cavity, banking more coals around and on top of it. Soon, the smells of fresh coffee and bread wafted throughout the cabin. Grandpa was still not back, though.

Little Mary took a blanket from the chair near the hearth and wrapped it around her shoulders. The door was still barred so she had to work hard to get it open. That was strange. How did Grandpa do that? Mary asked herself idly as she stepped out onto the porch. The prints of the panther and the larger prints of Grandpa were strewn about the porch, where the scuffle had started. The snow in the yard was all awash with furrows and banks from the epic struggle that had happened last night. Grandpa! Where are you? Breakfast will be ready in a minute or two. Come Home, Grandpa! Little Mary called out. Her voice echoed from the distant forest. Aside from a morning bird and an insect, perhaps the muffled shuffling of a snow rabbit crossing a drift of snow, no answer returned. Mary stood there looking around, wondering where Grandpa Wilkes could have gone to...

And then she saw it.

Near the big oak tree, the one she had sat under so many times during the Spring and Summer to read her books and Bible, Mary saw the one thing that she never wanted to see ever... ever. It was a sight that chilled her little heart worse than any panther could ever have done.

From within a drift of new fallen snow, a twisted and mangled hand stuck out, clawing at the sky in a final desperate attempt for salvation before death overtook him. Grandpa's torn and broken body lay there, partially buried in the snow. It had been there all night, evidently. Close by, wrapped around the base of the old oak tree, yellow fur could be seen. The mountain panther had been broken against that tree, its body slammed against it repeatedly until not one single bone was left whole. It was dead for sure.

How did it happen? Did Grandpa kill it before he died... or...

Little Mary walked back into the cabin and shut the door. She folded the blanket and put it back onto the chair near the hearth. She took a plate and a cup and set a place at the plank table that Grandpa Wilke's father had made. Then little Mary took the jar of honey down and placed it on the table, laying a dipping spoon next to it. The biscuits would be ready in a moment. Piping hot with steamy centers, a dollop of honey always tasted good with them. Mary ladled a cup of coffee out for herself. She set the cup down at her spot at the table. Then, looking over her shoulder at the cabin door pensively, little Mary set about laying out a second place at the table, one for her Grandpa.

Outside the cabin, in the woods, a crow called. It was answered by a raven. An owl stirred in its slumber inside the hollow of an old tulip poplar tree. A wolf slid from shadow to shadow, searching for any likely morsel to eat. Silently the wolf contemplated the cabin, wondering at the possibility of finding a meal inside. A large shadow loomed over the wolf and it shied away, recognizing the threat from the huge old man who was glaring down at it. Wisely, the wolf ran off to find safer land in which to hunt. As long as I am around, nothin' is goin' ta hurt ya. The man said as he melted into the shadowy forest of trees.

The biscuits were now ready. The coffee was poured. A thin column of smoke rose up out of the chimney. A soft conversation, an occasional giggle, could be heard from a distance. Everything seemed normal. Everything was safe. Little Mary was inside, eating breakfast, happy and content. After all, as long as Grandpa Wilkes was around, nothing could hurt her.

--MGS

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(c) Copyright 2010 MG Stough. All Rights Reserved.