The Rag Tag man made his way into town at 4:05 p.m. on the afternoon of October 23rd, 1964. His death interrupted his passing through. No one knew his name; he had no identification on him, but Orlis Pew threw the name Rag Tag man out there, and it stuck. His attire was that of a homeless, impoverished drifter: rags if you wish. How he was dressed and groomed hardly mattered, of course, but what he carried with him, gripped tightly in his filthy hands, did.
It was a tin box with a tin lid clamped firmly to it, perhaps the height, width, and depth of a man's hand. Absolutely no one in town had any interest in the Rag Tag man except to wish him gone as they peered at him down their noses. And certainly no one cared to know what was in the tin box, for it was probably of little value like the old man. No one approached the old man, until he made the mistake of stopping in front of Bard's Grocery. The Rag Tag stopped only for a moment, and had every intention of moving on and bothering no one. But, as would be, someone pointed him out from within Bard's store.
Andrew Bard stepped out of the store, and the contrast between the two men was almost comical. Bard said, "Look here, you gotta' move on."
The Rag Tag simply nodded and sheltered the tin box away from Bard. Bard laughed, "What the… I don't want anything you got. Now I don't allow no vagrants in front of my sidewalk, you git." Again the old Rag Tag man sheltered the tin box, and shuffled a small step. "By gawd are you dear?"
Rag Tag man shook his head.
"Okay then, go on. I am going back inside, and when I am looking back out I don't want to see you here no more."
Rag Tag man nodded.
And this publicly exposed activity inspired the keen curiosity and tenacity of James Roke and Leonard Shook, probably the town's most beloved young mischief makers. James stepped out of his 63 convertible Mustang and jabbed Leonard in the ribs. Leonard grinned broadly and the two trotted up aside the wandering old man.
"Hey old man, I'll give you a nickel for the box."
The old man leaned over the box, walking faster now, trying to keep it from the view of the two boys.
"Come on, I bet you held a nickel in weeks. How about a quarter?" and James pulled a quarter from his pocket and flashed it in front of the Rag Tag man.
"No, thank you," said the Rag Tag man in a clear and professional voice.
Leonard raised an eyebrow and laughed, "Sounds like you been to college or something. What happen, you a convict or something?" Leonard stepped in front of Rag Tag and blocked his way; he reached in his pocket for something more substantial, and waved a ten dollar bill in front of Rag Tag's face. "Heck, look a here old man. Ten DOLLARS! I will give you ten whole dollars for that old tin box."
Rag Tag pursed his stubble covered lips, "Not for sale. Now allow me passage, I beg you."
There was a brief silence and the two boys broke out in laughter, "Whatever you say professor."
The Rag Tag man walked passed the two without looking back, continuing steadily out of town. James called out, "Good bye to you too, you stuck up old tramp." Leonard said hotly, "You get him? Snooting us?"
James watched after the old man, and the wheels of a plot in motion were clearly readable behind his eyes, "Yeah. Some old snoot for sure. Wonder what's in the box he won't get rid of for ten whole dollars?"
"I don't know, maybe love letters."
"Maybe. Maybe. And maybe he is a convict, a thief, a runaway. I bet what's in that box don't belong to him anyhow," James said, and Leonard only nodded in agreement.
James said, "I say we follow him, keep our distance. Night comes soon this time of year, he's got to bed down some place."
"You ain't gonna' steal it are you?"
"Nah, just wait till he is asleep. Open and take a look inside. Probably not worth stealing no way."
The Rag Tag man made his bed beneath the rails on the outskirt of town, and the two boys did live up to their plan. They waited until the old man was asleep, and crept over his slumbering body. James took the tin box and shook it; something chunky made a wet thud as it shifted around inside the box. James tried to remove the lid, but it would not budge. Both grabbed the box, and pulled with all of their stout teenage might, and the tin lid would not come off. Leonard's foot slipped in the tugging and kicked the Rag Tag man, who awoke with a start. While he scrambled to his feet and poured curses out to the boys, James tucked the tin can under his arm and the two ran far from the old man.
Sheriff Tom Redd found the old man's body beneath the tracks two days later, and there was no good explanation for the condition of the Rag Tag man. A thick, grey slime had poured from his nose, mouth, and ears. Deputy Orlis Pew looked at the deceased man and said, "Rag Tag man." The coroner examined the unknown man and informed the sheriff they should incinerate the derelict as soon as humanly possible. When asked why, the coroner stated the vagabond's brain was missing, and possibly the grey ooze was liquefied brains. The Rag Tag man was cremated instantly after that.
As for James and Leonard, their bodies were cremated as well. James had taken the box home with him, and had decided to open it the next day. He got little sleep that night or the next, and within the two days he phoned Leonard to let him know he was hearing a voice. Leonard inquired as to what the voice was saying. James would not say. What James would say, was it was in the same voice as the Rag Tag man. What Leonard would notice over the phone, was that James was speaking just as the Rag Tag man had spoken, the "did you go to College…" type of words.
Leonard made visit to James, who was clearly acting differently. James' father was furious, because the boy would not leave his room. Doctor Hardy had told the father this seemed to be the symptoms of certain young men of that time who experimented with certain drugs. It was becoming, the Doctor said, near epidemic. James' father was more than happy to let Leonard speak to James, and perhaps find the problem.
"It will not desist from speaking to me night and day," said James to Leonard.
"What won't?"
"The box. That infernal box. I know what it contains, Leonard. I have yet to open it, for it wishes to remain closed, but I know."
"What's in there?"
"I will not tell. But, if you wish to look, we have been going about it the wrong way, so erroneous we have been and it is so simple," James laughed in an older, deeper voice.
Leonard looked at the tin box with serious eyes. After a bit of a scuffle, for James refused to give the tin box up, Leonard sharply threw his fist into James' jaw and rendered him unconscious. After knocking his friend out, he grabbed the tin box and ran from the house. He ran deep into the wooded land on the outskirts of the Georgia town, clutching the tin box.
Leonard now understood what his friend had been trying to tell him. The voice of the Rag Tag man filled his head as loudly and audibly as if he were whispered to closely in the ear. Leonard yelled out, "I don't care! I don't care! You will not!" Leonard ran deeper into the wood and stopped, heaving of breath and dripping of sweat. "I don't care. I'm going to pour you out here and now, and stomp you into a mush! I know what you know now too, and I know how to open you!"
Leonard pushed in on the lid instead of pulling, and the lid popped open.
"I didn't believe it," Leonard muttered. Inside the tin box was a wet, dirty grey mass of a brain. Leonard tried to pour it out, but the brain would not allow him to. He could not move his arms to perform the task. Instead, he closed the lid and threw the box to the ground. "I don't care, and I can so get away!"
Leonard ran for one hundred or so yards away from the tin box before he fell to his knees screaming and pressing his hands against his head. Slimy grey ooze dripped from his nose, and he fell over.
No one knows where the little tin box is to this day. Someone else may have found it, and could be wandering the lands ensnared by its thoughts. Or maybe, just maybe it is still lost, in the wooded land, laying and waiting for someone like you to find it, and take it home.