Drerys' Guest

Dinner was prepared early enough to expect their guest’s arrival. Mrs. Drery was, at first, concerned her husband would be so bold as to assume her comfort or approval of a stranger’s company inside the confines of their home. However, for the sake of sounding like a hypocrite, she put on a warm smile as he explained his connection to this stranger. By the end of the story she was almost impressed.

“In a way, he’s almost a part of the family, say, an Uncle perhaps?”

“You know, I got the feeling as though my father was seen as like a brother to him, and probably the same to my father. Strangely, I don’t much remember him or do I remember my father speaking much of Mr. Cobbs. However, my father never really talked much about anyone to anybody.” Mr. Drery paused for a moment and probed his mind.

“Well, it should be an interesting evening, nonetheless,” Mrs. Drery replied.

Dinner was nearly ready and Madeline was settled in her chair at the table along with Annie when a knock came at the door. Mr. Drery walked across the room to answer it. He opened it and welcomed Mr. Cobbs in.

“Why hello dear,” he exclaimed as soon as he caught sight of Mrs. Drery.

“I be Cyrus, Cryus Cobbs, how do ya do there ma’am?” He shook her hand gently.

She obliged and she walked over to where Madeline sat.

“This, Mr. Cobbs, is our daughter, Madeline,” Mrs. Drery said.

As Mr. Cobbs looked over at Madeline with wide eyes and an even wider smile, she slowly curled and backed into the rest of her chair.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cobbs, she’s just a little shy. She’s not used to meeting a whole lot of people yet. Madeline, please say hello to our guest,” Mrs. Drery instructed.

She looked at him for a moment and then smiled briefly.

“This is Annie,” she held her up for him to see.

“But she’s shy too.”

“Oh, well, it’s a pleasure to meet’cha, Annie,” Mr. Cobbs bowed respectfully. “You too, Madeline. An’ may I say, what a beautiful name you have. The both of ya.”

Madeline giggled and a warm, relaxed smile now beamed upon her face.

The rest of the night was a complete success with many entertaining stories brought up amongst the hearty and filling feast. Afterwards, all, full of feast and pride, relaxed in their own particular ways. Madeline played with Annie in the corner by the fire, Mrs. Drery sketched and hummed to herself, and Mr. Drery and Mr. Cobbs smoked pipes and digested food and further tales of country past.

“Oh, me fiddle,” Mr. Cobbs broke the silence. “I nearly forgot I brung it over. No sense in bringin’ it over if I ain’t gonna play.”

Mrs. Drery looked at her husband skeptically. He had forgotten that part of the meeting when he told her of the acquaintanceship he had made. It lasted but a second before string and bow met, the same jovial tune playing once more. When all was said and done and the tune had been played, every astonished onlooker clapped as enthusiastically as the music had played. Even Annie, with the help of Madeline, applauded.

It was nearly nine now and it was time for Madeline to get to bed. She had grown drowsy and now nodded off before the fire. Mr. Drery scooped her up in his arms and tucked her in like before. When he came downstairs, Mr. Cobbs too, was preparing to put himself to his bed.

“Well, I guess I be off now. It was a real pleasure and a really fillin’ meal you made there Mrs. Drery,” Mr. Cobbs informed as he put on his hat.

Mr. Drery saw him out and thanked him for the pleasant company as well. He watched the old man cross the street and disappear into the darkness. Mr. Drery opened the door and went inside.

About a couple days later Mr. Drery was looking for a particular tool and happened to come across the mysterious tuft of hair that he had tucked away earlier last week.

“I didn’t know this was still here.” He pulled it out of the drawer and showed his wife.

“Well, I didn’t throw it out. I’m not even going to touch it. I wish you would though,” she replied.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. If it’s not important enough to remember, then maybe it’s better off forgotten.” He walked out the door and to where the garbage containers were stored. On his way he saw that Mr. Cobbs was out tending to the dirt beside his garden. Mr. Drery looked down at the strange tuft of hair and fabric and then up again at the old man.

“What the hell,” he murmured to himself and walked across the street to greet Mr. Cobbs.

“Hey there Drery,” exclaimed the old man. “How be you this fine afternoon?”

“Oh, I can’t complain. How about yourself?”

“Well, better than these crops, that’s for darn sure.” He chuckled and tossed a rotten piece of fruit to his feet as he shook his head.

“You look a tad troubled there, Drery. What’s on yer mind?”

“Well, last week my daughter found something strange on our property.”

“Oh,” the old man replied. “What be it?”

“Well, what do you make of this?” Mr. Drery opened his hand and showed the old man the tuft of hair with fabric attached. The old man adjusted his specs as he leaned in for a closer look.

“Why, that be the damned strangest thing I ever seen found ‘round these parts.”

“Well, does it look like something that would live around here? Perhaps an animal of some sort. I haven’t seen an animal around here since we’ve been here, Mr. Cobbs. I know it’s getting colder and all, but I think it’s kind of strange.”

“Yeah, it be kind of strange and all. Almost as strange as this here thing you showed to me,” Cobbs said as he examined it further.

“There nigh be an animal ‘round here for quite some time now. ‘Cept birds.”

“Well,” Drery explained, “my daughter thought she saw something that looked like an animal outside her window. But she couldn’t see what it was. She said she thought it looked like a cat.”

“Oh, well I ne’er –“

The old man stopped for a second and scratched his long, bony fingers along the scruff that comprised his neck and chin.

“What,” Drery asked.

The old man sat down in a nearby rocking chair and thought for a moment.

“Far it be for me to give yer little girl this story. Too scary be it for even most men, I’d say. If ya hear it, ya pass it off as foolish as all men do after it be told, that’s fer sure.”

Mr. Drery leaned in close to the old man and pointed at the tuft of hair in his dried, cracked hands.

“I’ve had that saved for about a week now. Try me.”

“Well, okay Drery, okay. But I warned ya.” The old man took his wooden pipe out of his front shirt pocket and lit it.

“There be this legend abouts these parts. It’s more of a spook story really. See, no one know fer sure how it happened, but everyone knows how it is. It started some time ago, ‘bout a year after you left yer pappy’s farm. See, it started small. Pets gone missin’ from their homes, run away most say. The skeptical ones say, where to? There ain’t nothin’ out here to run from, ain’t nothin’ to run to. A country home is a happy home, ya know? This didn’t happen too often. Once every sickle moon. That’s what they call da moon when it be sharp and thin. It get that way ‘bout once a month or so. The next mornin’ a cat here, a dog there a farm bird and so on be comin’ up missin’ next mornin’. No nothin’ left behind. Like they ran away. But us smart folk know different. Some of us seen it. This thing that comes from the hills, lookin’ like an animal of some sorts. I never seen it meself, but I know some who have. An’ it’s always too dark to see what it is exactly. This go on for some time before folks get sick of buyin’ pets that go missin’. Tired of the grief. For a while nothin’ happens. An’ then the worst does. A few children go missin’. Never found ‘em, though we all searched plenty. Their family moved years ago an’ others slowly did too. Maybe they be afraid of what will happen to their kids. Not much families here now with kids, ‘cept yers an’ maybe few others. I dunno for sure.”

The old man stopped to relight his pipe.

“Did the police get called? Did they find anything?” Drery looked concerned, uneasy.

“Oh, they did. But without evidence, spook tales don’t sit well with them, I imagine.”

The old man released a cloud of smoke as he exhaled.

“You okay there Drery? You look as though ya believe me.”

“Maybe a little concern for my daughter, Mr. Cobbs. There have been a few children around here who have disappeared, right?”

The old man nodded.

“Aye, but there ain’t no killer or kidnapper seen or reported for since as long as I been livin’ right here. All me life.”

Drery exhaled slowly to relieve his nerves.

“Well, she’s very well protected, should you be wrong.”

“Well, Mr. Drery, if I be wrong, that there rifle be right.” He pointed to the corner of his porch where his Winchester rested.

“Point well made, Mr. Cobbs.” Drery smiled and waved goodbye to the old man.

“Oh, Mr. Drery,” the old man cried out, “ya forgot yer hair.” He held it out and Drery took it from his grasp. He thanked him and was on his way.

As he passed by the trash containers, he opened one, briefly looked at the tuft of hair, and threw it in.

What a story.