by Mark Maine

Created on: January 11, 2009   Last Updated: January 26, 2009

It had been snowing for a day and a half now. I was out and about periodically plowing and shoveling the yard to keep up with the constant build up. Finally evening came and it was time to settle in. The kids were in the living room playing games and talking. I was listening to the news while washing the dishes. The weatherman was in the middle of reporting the current conditions outside when the power went out. Well that was the end of the news. I found my way through the dark into the living room and lit the kerosene lamps. I then tossed a couple of pieces of wood in the wood stove and stoked it up. Outside the wind picked up trailing an icy breeze across Mount Katahdin and stacking snow up on the sills of the house. All was quiet except for the raging storm outside.

These are the times that I love the most. I lit another lamp and we went into the basement to stoke up the other wood stove for the night. The basement was dark and the lantern cast eerie shadows along the wall as we made our way downstairs. I filled the wood stove and my children teased each other about how spooky it was. I warned them of the zombies that lived behind the woodpile and dimmed the lantern while making a guttural sound which sent them scrambling back up the stairs. I collected some blankets and we all gathered together in the living room. The house creaked as the wind tossed the snow this way and that.

The combination of the lamps and the flickering light from the wood stove illuminated the three little faces huddled around for warmth. I asked "who wants to hear a scary story?" To which the oldest and the youngest piped up "I do!" with the middle exclaiming "No ZOMBIES Daddy!" We all laughed knowing that she really didn't mind; the addition of the walking dead to our bedtime stories was a favorite theme, along with aliens and the occasional Sasquatch. I took a second to collect my thoughts while the kids sat back, then I started my tale.

"You see it all happened on a night just like this one, but many years ago. It was before men had a firm grasp on scientific studies and superstitions ran wild. It is said that a young man, a pioneer as they were known at that time, ventured forth into the wilderness with his three young children. They set out to make a new life for themselves, to face and overcome the unknown. It is said that he had purchased a parcel of land in the Katahdin valley from a not so scrupulous businessman in Boston. The indigenous people of the area considered the land

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