‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. That would be me, the sleeping creature. Everyone else was stirring. Anyway, the sound of my cell phone going to town interrupted my slumber.
Down the old logging road we hiked, hoping it might take us back to where we’d parked the truck. After a while of walking, I don’t know how long, a woman approached us walking down the muddy road. I would’ve thought this suspicious under different circumstances, but she enchanted me as soon as I looked into her clear blue eyes.
Something caught my eye; an old horseshoe nailed to the doorframe. I noticed that every door and window had a horseshoe similarly nailed above it. Most of the older houses in this area had a horseshoe over the doorway, so it wasn’t all that noteworthy at the time. However, typically the horseshoes are nailed to the outside of doorways, not the inside, and there was usually only one.
“Well, the Goat-Man is a half-man, half-goat monster who lives in the woods here in Swaggart County. They say if you see the Goat-Man, death is certain to follow by the next new moon. Folks have been seeing the Goat-Man.”
Just then, a blood-curdling scream tore through the library. Willow ran out of the ladies’ bathroom like the devil was after her.
“Whoa there, cowgirl, what’s the ruckus?” I asked.
“I looked in the mirror, and instead of my face, I saw this horrible, black monster face with red eyes!”