The Cave in Younger's Holler

I told them we shouldn’t have come, that it’d be a mistake, but they never listen to me. I’m the friend in the group often overlooked, always interrupted as if I weren’t there. Normally, I wouldn’t mind sitting quietly, soaking in the camaraderie of my group. Tonight, it was different. I wish they had listened to me.

For the last week, I’ve been having night terrors again, waking up in the dead of night. In a cold, clammy sweat and unable to move, I’d try my best to remember what dream had awakened me to the darkness. The only thing I recall from my dreams was a pair of malevolent eyes with an ominous glint, slowly fading into darkness. Finally, in the early hours of dawn, I’d be able to move again, making my way to the bathroom to wash the fear from my face.

Maybe it was the night terrors. Perhaps it was the fact that my friends wanted to visit Younger’s Holler at midnight to bring in the fourth. Whatever the reason, I knew we shouldn’t go. Even if the old legends weren’t true, it still wasn’t safe to walk those woods at night.

There were so many hazards that they’d have to watch out for along the way to the holler. Since they couldn’t drive back there, they’d have to park along the gravel road and walk back into the forest. In the dark, there were many places they could twist an ankle. Even worse, just last week, Evan Tibbets had a branch fall on him out here in the dark woods. Then there were rumors that the wolves had moved back into the area, along with the howls many in town claimed to hear late at night.

What was even worse than all that was the sinkholes, which you had no way of knowing where they were. Last year, Donnie Brockman, Jared Lewis, and Penny Fletcher had been walking out in Younger Holler, and according to Penny, the ground just opened up and swallowed her two friends. I overheard my dad, a deputy for Taney Creek police, telling my mom that they never found the two boys, but the fresh, unstable sinkhole the searchers did find.

Now, here we were, almost reverently walking those same woods at night. Each humbly stepping along single file behind Jurney Mackey, the exuberant leader of their ragtag group. Selena Behr, in a reverent whisper, regaled them all with tales they had all heard about myths surrounding the Holler. The McKormick twins, Beth and Seth, giggled as Lee Franks brought up the rear, letting off gas.

I was glad I was walking up towards the front with Stan Penn carrying the cooler, so I didn’t have to smell Lee, but unfortunately, it put me closer to hearing the tales Selena was devoutly passing along more clearly. As she spoke, I imagined I could hear someone following us, watching our every move.

According to the stories, there used to live in these woods a hermit named Jessup Younger. Some stories claimed his parents were cousins, others that they were siblings, but all had the common thread that he was a product of incest, possibly multigenerational, at that. In all the stories, Jessup was illiterate and mentally challenged, with deformities. What the deformities were, no one could agree on, just that he had them.

So, anyway, he lived here in these woods, and every year before the sun came up on Independence Day, he’d venture out a little from his cabin deep in the Holler. He’d always sit up beside the gravel road, selling stuff to people who passed by. Although no one could agree on what he sold.

Some tales claimed he was a lowly egg-sucker and animal fornicator. Then others claimed he stole pies from windows while being a peeping tom. Yet, most claimed he committed the worst sin imaginable, taking the virtue of one of the uppercrust’s purest.

Legend goes on to say that they came one night. Either by horse, car, or ATV, each story was different, but they came bringing their dogs, nevertheless. Like they always do. They didn’t arrive by themselves, either. They showed up in mobs.

They hunted Jessup down. Chased him deep into the holler, turning the hounds loose on him. With the dogs tearing into him, they cornered him, whipping him with pine branches, ripping his clothing and skin….

As Serena trailed off, we entered a clearing with a hollow. On the other side of the hollow was a cave glowing a sickly color. The longer we stood staring at the gaping mouth of the cave, the more we could feel the draw of some malignant force.

Trepidatiously, we entered the cave. We no longer seemed to be in control of our limbs, as they moved of their own accord. We stumbled out into a cavern, to a macabre sight.

I could hear screaming echoing all around me. Seth was chanting to my left, “Oh, my God,” over and over, as if there was a god. Someone was retching, off to my right.

All around the grotto were skeletons and bodies in different stages of decay. Years and years and decades and decades of the county’s missing people, hanging upside down from the stalactites. A damp, rotten smell wafted towards us, reminding me of warmed sulfur and maggots.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash, the light growing more toxic in color the more intensely it shone. Then it reverted to its original putrid glow. Standing still, I waited for my eyes to adjust back to the lower lighting.

It was in the afterimages that I finally understood my night terrors. They played in my mind like a movie, one image after another. Holding me frozen in place, too afraid to move.

I stood, setting up my roadside stand. Travelers always stopped on Independence Day and bought my little creations. Tiny elephants whittled from pecan branches. Flower bouquets carved from cherry blocks. Whistles were made from willow bark. So many little figures and oddities that tourists and many locals craved.

It was already a hot afternoon, and the Brockman boys had driven by several times, throwing bottle rockets, Roman candles, and M-16s at me. I mostly ignored them, seeing as they had a hard time aiming from the rusted-out Dodge they were driving. Even when I smelled the grease in my hair as it was smoking, and had to put it out, I still tried to pay them no mind.

It would do me no good, anyway. With their daddy being a judge, and all, they’d never get into trouble. Not even a slap on the wrist.

I watch as Tina Murfee climbs from her Buick, helping Eva, her little one, out of the seat behind her. She’d brought her to meet me for the first time. I see Eva is cross-eyed as they walk towards me.

Ms. Tina’s family has always been good to me. Bringing me goodies like jams, dried foods, socks, and blankets. Today was no exception. Ms. Tina had a bag with her mother’s bread, a couple of jars of persimmon jelly, and the usual bag of clothing goods. I was pleased as punch when she settled down on the fence rail, for I knew then she meant to visit a while.

She read from the newspaper to me for a bit, as I watched her little girl playing in the grass. Then Ms. Tina helped me to count my money, something that had always been hard for me to do, no matter how many times I was shown. While we were visiting, the Brockmans made two more drive-bys, without setting off any of their fireworks. Although during the second pass-by, I heard them call Ms. Tina a name that made me angry.

Eventually, Ms. Tina got up, saying it was time for her to head home, and how much she enjoyed visiting with me. She calls for Eva, who is staring raptly at my whittling. We walked over to see what had caught her eye, and I saw her staring at the fairy I had just finished carving the night before. I watch as my brown arm reaches out, my gnarled hand picks it up, and places the piece in her small pink fingers. Smiling, I tell Ms. Tina it was specially made for Eva, I just didn’t know it when I did it.

After they leave, I sell a few other items. I gathered what I had left. I'd sold almost all that I had brought with me, so there wasn't much. Then I headed into the woods to go home.

Late that night, as I sat in my cabin eating jam and bread for my supper, I heard someone outside hollering my name. Getting up, I go out onto my porch to see who would be out in the woods this time of night. Opening my door, I’m blinded by the spotlights turned immediately on me. I raise my arm….

…And try to block the brightness. Only, there is no blinding light, just the virulent luminescence reflecting off my skin, giving it a tarnished, brassy look. Lowering my arm, I looked at the others in the cave, and watched as they blindly groped at the surroundings around them. A smile stretched wide across my face as they stumbled.

Serena called out, “Jes, Beth, Seth, hey guys, were you at?”

I knew now what my subconscious had been telling me all along. In a hunt as old as time, I began seeking the revenge my soul had finally awakened to claim.

I call out, "I'm here, Serena, let me come to you."