Welcome everyone. This is a Halloween one-shot that is rather late but better late than never. I was going to go for a straight up horror but ultimately decided against it. Enjoy and review.
Ken Finlayson looked at the picture in the book on Norrisville legends. It showed what could be best be described as an eight-foot tall albino gorilla with the horns and hooves of a goat and a scaly face. In the hands of the thing was a rusty double bladed axe. Beneath the picture, the text read:
Henry Carradine, 1905-1988, was a big top aberration known as the "Goatman" who first appeared in 1940. He was notoriously bad tempered and would chase children with his axe in hand. Carradine was said to sleep most of the day and would only be active at night. Legend holds that he had hypnotic eyes. He is buried at the Grapewin Trestle.
So, this was the fabled Goatman of Norrisville. A dead circus freak with a bad temper! If the Goatman was dead then there was no danger from him and a picture of the grave would probably be quite nice, better if it were at night when Carradine was said to be most active. That would really bring about some great atmosphere.
Closing the book and putting it back on the bookshelf, Ken left the library and walked around school. He stopped outside Heidi's office and watched her do her podcast. She was beautiful and he was ugly. He had as much a chance with her as ushers had a chance of never being evil. He stayed there watching for a few moments before finally giving a shrug until walking away.
He went straight to the cafeteria only to walk out as soon he walked in. There were a few of his critics in there. Throwing someone to a horde of killer chimps would give somebody critics. One of them was Debbie Kang who considered Ken both a public menace and the local idiot. According to Debbie, if Ken had never gotten it into his mind to sacrifice Niall Warburton to the killer chimps Theresa never would have been in danger of being a victim of the chimps just as much as Niall. She wasn't too far off but Ken had ended up putting himself in danger to causing him to live up to the label she had given to him of "local idiot."
There was no point to fear critics. If Ken did that he wouldn't be Ken Finlayson. He'd be his cousin Francis Fulloffrenchpeople.
Upon reentering the cafeteria, Ken saw Debbie glare at him. It was not nice to be glared at by her. Since she was the editor and investigative reporter of the NHGTTWDPC, she could edit any story that involved Ken to make him seem as bad as possible. Thankfully, she had not done that… yet!
"Aloha, how is every man jack?" Ken's plan was to keep his words as dated, archaic or literary as possible. If he did that, no one would be able to suspect him of trying to get people to go to Henry Carradine's grave with him. "I am thinking about going down to the Billy goat adult male's burial chamber-_"
"No!" Most of the people yelled out at him.
"Okay, then…" Ken walked over to Randy and Howard.
"Halloween."
Ken looked over at Theresa and Debbie. "Happy Hug-o-ween."
"You two are freaks!" Ken couldn't understand 9th graders these days. He remembered when he had been in the 9th grade a couple of years ago. Finally, he turned to Bucky, whose response was to point at Theresa and Debbie.
And so are you!" Finally, Ken brought his flipper of a right hand to his face. "Well, looks like Niall is going to be alone as the only ninth grader accompanying me."
"Niall has been sick with a cold for a week." Commented Randy. This comment caused Ken to look with a questioning look. "Yes. You really were not aware?" Ken's eyes started to dart around.
"Idiot." Muttered Debbie.
"Well, I guess it will only be three of us." Ken started walk away, his comment causing everyone to wonder whom the other two were. If Howard were to know that his sister was one of the other two, he wouldn't have batted an eye.
Once night had fallen, Ken stood with Heidi and Bash not far from the Grapewin Trestle. He had gotten Bash for just in case the Goatman should rise from the grave. Bash would be a sacrifice thankfully he was an idiot and Ken's use of words that ranged from the dated to the archaic to the literary made him none the wiser. Heidi was there because Ken liked her and she was less critical of him than others.
"Heidi, we are filming, right?" asked Ken.
"Yes, Ken." Heidi, holding a camera, looked at Ken's eyes. There were not bulging, not ticking, didn't even have pink eye. It seemed like he was completely calm and not having any problems at the moment!
"Okay, here we are at the Grapewin Trestle. I'm Ken Finlayson, not the least trying to make my public image better, and with me is the beautiful Heidi Weinerman… and Bash."
"That's me!"
Ken didn't even roll his eyes Heidi did the eye rolling for him. She wasn't on camera but Ken and Bash were.
"We are here to go down to the grave of Henry Carradine, the Goatman himself."
"Yeah! We're going down to the Goatman's grave! I'm gonna go moo like a goat!"
Heidi was showing the annoyance Ken was feeling with Bash for him. She was as annoyed as he was. Ken should have chosen someone else.
"Anyway, we are going to go down now." Ken pointed over to Grapewin Trestle. "Somewhere down there, Carradine's grave lies and we will find it!"
"Yeah!" Bash then ran off in the direction of the trestle. Ken didn't even blink. Neither did Heidi. Bash soon came back to where Ken stood holding a flashlight, Bash took it and Ken took another out of his pocket.
"Come on, Heidi. If Bash gets lost he just needs to look for our flashlight."
Ken and Heidi walked in the direction of the trestle. Heidi walked in silence while Ken spoke. Where was Bash? Far ahead of them!
"Now, good people, the concept of Goatmen is not alien in any part of the world. In Greece, the Satyr myth originated and such creatures are said to be in Maryland, Kentucky and Texas but those are not naturally deformed people but… Mutants, demons or… I don't know what. Of course, from that picture I doubt Carradine was naturally deformed either. Mutation or some black magic was responsible for his appearance no doubt."
"Ken, why are you so interested in this grave?" asked Heidi.
"Just want to make sure the grave is there and that nothing has been going in and out of it, so I might know my friends are safe." Ken looked at Heidi with a look, just a look. If there were a tax on looking everyone would be beggars. "Since a mere hour ago before picking you up, I learned that despite Carradine's death in 1988 by cardiorespiratory arrest at the age of eighty-three there have been Goatman sightings. If Carradine still lived he'd be well into his early hundreds by now and given the interesting things I've seen we are left with five possible answers."
"And those would be?"
"Oh, ghost, vampire, zombie, new Goatman or impersonator."
"What do you think?"
"I don't know and if I give an opinion I'll be an even bigger laughing stock that I already am." Ken stopped looking at Heidi. "I'm called out for believing in these things despite the fact my family was haunted by a Phoenician god."
"Why was that anyway?"
"I called my dad and he said an ancestor intended to summon the Irish god Ogma and ended up summoning Moloch instead." Ken stopped walking for a bit. Heidi stopped with him. He was holding the flashlight so going too far ahead of him wouldn't be a good idea. "I have no idea how that worked." Ken the started walking again.
"So what is your dad like?"
"Oh, you know… Early seventies but looks like he is in his late fifties!" Ken blinked a bit. "I don't like talking about my parents. My mom looks like the me but uglier and my dad is a man who married a woman twenty-nine years younger than him and absolutely refuses to retire from archaeology. My dad is seventy-one and my mom is forty-two, it makes him look creepy to some but he must see something good in my mom if he isn't shallow and marry someone young and beautiful."
"Maybe to your dad your mom is beautiful."
"Is that supposed to be your way of calling me handsome?"
Heidi was glad the camera was pointed at Ken. If the people watching this broadcast could see her blush, people would start calling her and Ken a couple "Uh, is this your usual Halloween night stuff?"
"No, I usually watch a horror movie." His eyes started to dart around.
"Something wrong?"
"Thought I heard something." Ken stopped and looked around, pointing the flashlight in every direction. "Nothing. This place is certainly creepy and I didn't bring my tomahawk to defend us… Guess I am an idiot."
"How are you at throwing your tomahawk?"
"Pretty good. I practice with pictures of Joseph Stalin."
"Stalin is already dead."
"That's the point."
Heidi stood there in silence for a few seconds then she nodded. That was a good point. Nobody could complain about a dead tyrant's picture being the target.
Once at the trestle, Ken and Heidi found Bash sitting on a tombstone. Apparently, there was no need to look for the grave. It had already been found.
"What took yous two?" asked Bash.
"Get off the tombstone, Bash." Heidi was not impressed. "It is disrespectful." Ken was completely speechless. He just walked over to the tombstone and stared at Bash with his mouth hanging open. He looked over at Heidi and then looked at Bash as he got off of the tombstone. "You want me to say something, Ken?" Ken nodded. "Okay, then. Bash, do you have to be told to not sit on tombstones? Shame on you!" Bash wasn't even angry he just looked at Ken who in turned looked at Heidi with a questioning look. "Thought I try and say something you would say, Ken."
Ken was silent for a minute but finally he burst out laughing. "That's very good! I would say something like that!" Regaining some sense of seriousness, Ken pointed at the grave with his flashlight. "Yes sir, this here is the grave of Henry Carradine. Wait…" Ken took a close look. He should have looked at the gravestone before talking. "No, wait, yeah, this is Henry Carradine's grave." He then pointed his flashlight at Bash. "Not a word from you!" Finally, he pointed his flashlight at the trestle. "Bash, please point your flashlight at the tombstone." Bash pointed the flashlight at the tombstone. "Now at this trestle, the most famous of Goatman stories occurred. It is only natural since this is where Carradine made his home after the Norrisville circus shut down… Wait…" Ken looked at Bash and then at Heidi. "You two should know this legend better than me. Didn't Carradine become a hermit after the circus shut down?"
"Yes, Ken." Said Heidi. "Carradine was discovered dying by a mob and was buried by that mob. Doesn't explain why the grave isn't unmarked or why there even is a grave…"
"Okay, then." Ken then walked a bit closer to the trestle, still pointing his flashlight at it. "Now, the Goatman lured a man by the name of Russell Whitehead—" Ken was interrupted by some laughter from Bash. His response was a mere half closing of the eyes. "I'm starting to wish I did bring my tomahawk. Anyway back in 1988 the day before his death, Carradine killed Russell up on that trestle. Split his skull like a… Okay, I'm not going to say that since if his family is watching this I might end up getting a lot of hate mail because of that and it is just not… Is it just me or is getting cold all of a sudden?" It was getting cold and not in a natural way. "Don't anybody call me a coward but I think this is the point where we should get out of here… Before the evil laughter starts and something vaguely Goatman-like in appearance shows up. Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes our nightly… Whatever this was. Do not expect this to become a yearly thing."
Later at home, Ken looked at his emails. He had been called a coward, a weakling, a milksop, a namby-pamby, a mouse, a chicken, a scaredy-cat, a yellow-belly, a sissy, a baby and a milquetoast that was afraid of a little nightly chill. His fear for everyone's safety was being call cowardly. There was just no pleasing some people.