Deer Camp Blog

Deer Camp Blog- the outdoor column of The Bodock Times- (a satirical periodical) Humor and Hunting at the famous Christmas Place Plantation Hunting Club on the edge of the Mississippi Delta

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Friday, October 31, 2008

A Strange and Evil Place

This is the last of the absolutely, positively, 100% TRUE WEIRD TALES about the strange Christmas Place that I have put up for Halloween this year. Happy Halloween Everyone!

Blair, MS> Immediately, after we bought the famous Christmas Place, the local people laughingly told us not to wander off the main roads. They said that the rumor was that strange rituals had occurred in the darkest part of the woods and that they were haunted. We paid no attention to the superstitions as we have tried to walk and learn every part of the property. Trying to learn the remote backside of the property was especially difficult. Crossing the Beaver Dam to get to the back part of the famous Christmas Place is tricky. A narrow road leads down the side of a steep bluff, crosses a dam widened for a tractor, then the road winds back up another steep and treacherous bluff until you reach the top of the ridge. This is tricky and dangerous even if you are on a fourwheeler and not much scouting is done in the area.
We have a few fields there that we hunt, but we mostly stay on the main paths on top of the ridges. The area is wild and treacherous. Most people let the deer come to them if they hunt over there. Not me! Hell no! I decided to do some serious scouting in the deepest part of the area. I was going to find that monster buck or die trying. I did not know that I had made a decision that would affect me from now on.
Early in the morning, I made the treacherous journey across the Beaver Dam, wound my way back in behind what we call the Secret Field, parked, and made my way into the woods. I followed deer trails and creeks, explored ridges and valleys to get to the unknown area. Then the idea was to try to make a big circle that would lead back to my fourwheeler.
Deep in the woods I found a good ridge of oaks mixed with old cedar trees that was loaded with hooks and scrapes that really got my attention. Slowly walking I found a narrow split in the ridge and followed a deer trail that led into dense brush and thorns. Pushing my way through, I found a narrow hidden ridge running at 90 degrees to where I was before. Eureka! Or Ah-Hah! I thought and eased down the cedar filled ridge.

Big hooks were everywhere, but I noticed that many of the trees had strange markings on them. The further I went, the more strangely marked trees there were. Then I started to notice that spaced along the ridge were strangely constructed wood figures and odd piles of stones. I stared, trying to understand who would have made these markers and why. They seemed hauntingly familiar.
Moving on, I saw more and more of these along with hundreds of the trees marked with strange writing. Finally I reached a large grassy clearing that had a huge pile of large rocks in the center. I moved out into the clearing and stepped up on the rocks. Looking around and feeling slightly alarmed and amazed, I could see all the woods around the clearing were filled with stick figures, the strange piles of rocks and the trees marked with the mysterious writing. It was quiet and still as I surveyed the clearing. My heart pounded in my ears, but there was a feeling of age here, that no one had been at the spot in a very long time. The stick figures were rotted and many covered with leaves or overgrown.
Looking downward, I saw a long flat rock in the center of the huge stone pile. The rock looked exactly like a table, but had a narrow channel worn or cut down the center. This channel and most of the top of the rock table was covered in moss and discolored, but you could tell it was man-made for some reason. I studied it in the quietness and the thought came that it was stained with dried blood.
I stepped closer to investigate while my mind and eyes took in the whole scene. Someone bound, helpless and pleading, and a huge knife plunging into their chest as hooded figures chanted black rituals around the outcropping. Fires burned as the moon lit up the rock just before the knife slid into the helpless victim. Blinking and gasping, I staggered back and landed on my rear beside the table.
A strange rock was half buried there and mesmerized I pulled it out of the rubble and stared. The rock told me all I needed to know. My heart was beating wildly as I scrambled up and quickly moved out of there. No one had been to that spot in years, but my whole body screamed to me that I was in the wrong place and to get the hell out of there.
I left the evil place and have never returned.

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1 Comments:

At 10:46 AM, Anonymous Matt said...

Good thing this is the last story. Any more and I'd be scared to go hunting!

 

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