A Halloween Story

 

Mathias Prickler was a recluse and a former grave digger, who lived in a dilapidated shack, surrounded by the forest near the old Oakdale Civil War cemetery.

Home-grown gossip at Ralph’s Diner, about what happened in October, 1957, is always plentiful and a bit far-fetched. Though, the gossip has diminished some over the years, but every now and then, especially near Halloween, the stories about Mathias Prickler are reborn. Trouble is, every year those stories have become a little more inflated.

But don’t you worry none, I’ll be tellin’ you the truth about what really happened, as it was told to me. But I’ll get to that at the end.

It was early in the morning of 30 October 1957. Helen, the thirteen-year-old daughter of Mayor Ben Thomas, while playing hide-in-seek with Mary, her nine-year-old sister, unintentionally wandered near the cemetery. Upon seeing all the tombstones, Helen, a fearless girl, decided to hide behind the largest one.

I'm Scared!

Mary was relentlessly trying to find her sister but could not and was about to give up, until she too came upon the cemetery. Mary was an intelligent and clever girl for her age and immediately suspected Helen was hiding somewhere in the cemetery. “Helen! I know you’re here! I’m going to find you!” she shouted, in a mocking, melodramatic tone.

Systematically, Mary looked behind each tombstone and when she came to the largest one, she assumed that’s where her sneaky sister was hiding. Mary paused, and then flamboyantly jumped to the backside of the tombstone and screamed, “I found y-you, . . .”

Mary was instantly scared stiff. Staring. Speechless. Chills of fear raced up and down her spine. There, on the ground, behind the tombstone, . . . grass splattered with blood and a bloody arm in the midst, bearing a bracelet on the wrist. Helen’s bracelet!

When her mind and body unfettered from the catatonic state, Mary began to comprehended what her eyes were seeing. Fearing the worst, she screamed hysterically! Panic-stricken, she looked in every direction until she noticed a blood trail leading towards the forest. Her eyes followed the trail. When she looked up, Mary was struck with absolute terror. There, standing before her, was a tall, thin man holding an axe.

Mary fainted.

Thenceforward, when the girls were reported missing, a search was conducted, headed by Police Chief George Thompson. Being that Oakdale was a small town, many of the local folks pitched into help. The day passed, but the girls were nowhere to be found.

The search continued the next day.

Chief Thompson decided to pay Mathias a visit, hoping he might have seen the girls. He knew very little about Mathias and that was from his grandfather, who was the pastor of the church, next to the cemetery, before it burned down; and he warned George never to bother the old grave digger. A warning he had forgotten.

The dirt road to Mathias’ place was just wide enough for one car. When the Chief arrived, it was near dark. The smell in the air was horrific. Tattered clothes, large and small blood-soaked bones, and numerous planks of wood were scattered everywhere around the shack.

The Chief shouted, “Mathias!”

Silence, nary even a bird could be heard chirping.

He shouted again, “Mathias!”

Swish!

Chief Thompson’s head fell to the ground, followed by his body.

Later that night, six local teenagers, three boys and three girls, ventured into the cemetery to drink and tell ghost stories. After a few stories, they paired off to be alone. What transpired next was extremely gruesome. Only one of the teenagers made it back home that night – Darla. She was covered in blood when the two Oakdale deputies found her wandering aimlessly in the middle of main street. Darla was so traumatized by what happened, she was unable to speak. But shortly before she died at the age 87, she finally managed to utter a single word, and then she passed away. The word was – Beast.

Several years later, two state troopers came upon the dirt road leading to Mathias Prickler’s shack. Neither of them knew where or what it led to and decided to check it out. What they discovered was completely unexpected.

On the porch, in an old rocking chair was a skeleton, but oddly different than a distinguishable human skeleton. The skull had two small horns jutting out, the legs were longer than any normal human, and one of the long arms was missing. But the strangest thing about the skeleton; it didn’t have any teeth.

Next to the skeleton were two other skeletons. They appeared to be the remains of very large dogs with ragged leather collars around their necks, and both had a bone lodged in their jaws; the troopers determined it was a human arm bone.

One of the troopers, Fred, said he was going inside the shack to investigate and told his partner, Samuel, to inform the dispatcher about what they had found and their location.

Samuel tried to make the call, but they were out of range. Samuel shouted out to Fred let him know, but he didn’t answer. He shouted again. Silence. Worried about his partner, Samuel grabbed his revolver and headed inside. What he saw was incredible and unbelievable!  

In the back of the shack was a large, swirling black hole.

Samuel, trembling, slowly took one step back, and nervously asked, “Fred, where are you?” But suddenly a long, huge claw emerged from the black hole and grabbed Samuel tightly and pulled him into the hole.

Yes, another search party was conducted, and like before, nary a hint of the two troopers whereabouts were ever found, not even their car.

Now, I suspect you might be wondering how I know all the intricate details of those tragic events. Fate or luck, I reckon.

In the fall of 2017, five days before Halloween, I was fishing on the banks of the Lazy River near Oakdale when, much to my surprise, I spotted an old woman, with one arm, wearing a frayed dress, walking straight towards me. When she got within speaking distance, she said, in a gravelly voice, “My sister ain’t found me yet, and I can’t find the bracelet my mother gave me for my birthday.”

After several prodding questions, she began telling me everything that happened to her and everything she had seen. Of course, I struggled to believe her, but I thought why would she lie about such horrible things. After she finished, I turned to grab my cell phone to call the police, but when I turned back around, she was gone. Vanished. I shouted out to her and searched the area. Nothing.

Afterwards, I sat down and wondered if I had dozed off and dreamt the whole thing. Sad part about it was, I never asked, and she never told me her name, which I inadvertently said aloud. Then, a light breeze arose and with it, an eerie whispering voice - my name is Helen.

The ghost of Helen still roams the Oakdale cemetery, waiting and hoping that someday Mary will find her.

-jk-