Logansport, Indiana, September 1889
There wasn’t much remarkable about that afternoon. The wind blew gently, rustling the tree leaves that shaded the gentleman from the sun as he made his way toward home. He passed the cemetery west of Oxford, and something drew his attention to the rows of headstones that marked the final resting spots of Oxford’s former citizens.
He wasn’t sure if it was the sound that made him look or if he caught a glimpse of movement. But there it was: a 15-foot-long, scale-covered serpent slithering in between the headstones, its belly pressing a path through the grass.
For whatever reason, the man turned to face the snake that slowly but steadily moved toward him. The hair on the back of the man’s neck prickled, and his heart nearly stopped as surely as his feet had.
“Lord Almighty,” the man gasped. His voice quivered with terror.
The creature was only a few yards away, and it seemed to be picking up speed. Desperately, the man looked around, fearing that the snake would reach him. Within arm’s reach, he saw a large stick. Keeping one eye on the slithering monster, he grabbed the stick and held it in front of him.
The serpent began to move toward him even faster.
Looking from the stick to the snake, he feared his stick would be no match for the monstrous serpent. He instead turned and ran toward his house. His legs had never moved so quickly.
He burst through the front door of his home, slamming it shut behind him, his back pressed against it as he wheezed in jagged breaths.
“What on earth …” His wife stared at him, eyes wide.
“Nothing,” he replied, trying to steady his breath.
The woman raised her brows in suspicion. “Nothing? Look at yourself. You can hardly catch a breath.”
“I was just …” The man moved to the window and looked out, unable to think of a good reason why he had entered the house in such a panic.
“Was someone after you?” she asked worriedly.
The man said nothing, but he stared out the window, his body still shaking with fear.
“You can’t come into this house like you’re running for your life and tell me there’s nothing going on. Tell me what’s got you so shaken.”
“In the graveyard …” he began, “the snake …” He spread his arms as far apart as they would go before putting his hands on his knees. He again tried to steady his breath.
“You saw the ghoul snake?” his wife asked in a whisper, her jaw dropping in a mix of awe and horror.
“It was as wide around as a stovepipe and longer than any two men placed head-to-toe!” He shuddered. “It was coming at me, staring at me with eyes that looked like the flames of a fire. And it had two horns, one on each side of its head, at least 10 inches long!”
“It was coming after you?” His wife hurried to his side and glanced out the window. “Did it follow you home?”
“No … I mean, I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. I was running too hard to look back.”
“You need to tell the sheriff.”
After gathering a group of townsmen, the sheriff, along with the man who reported the sighting, headed toward the cemetery.
“You’re not the first to report this thing,” the sheriff assured the man. “I’ve had at least a dozen others come to me in the last two years. Always the graveyard.”
“Makes you wonder how a snake around these parts could get so large,” one of the men in the group noted.
As they walked through the cemetery gates, the men scanned the area for the creature.
“Look at that hole there,” one man said.
“There’s another over here,” a second called out.
They found a series of large holes leading into the ground around the tombstones.
“I think we’ve solved the mystery of how a snake could grow so large,” one of the men said with a shudder. “That blasted beast is feeding on the poor souls buried here.”