| |
There are stories out of Maryland about a beast with the hindquarters of a goat and torso of a man. Its fur is matted like a sickly dog and smells of urine and soil. The head exhibits the features of a goat, large pointy ears, and two curved horns. If that wasn’t bad enough, the creature stands at a terrifying height of seven feet tall. Legend says that the goatman was the result of a failed human experiment that took place at the Beltsville Research Agricultural Center in Maryland. According to one explanation, a scientist there spliced the DNA of a goat and one of his assistants. Traditionally, human experimentation has been a taboo subject and illegal in most countries, but there are cases of it being conducted by fringe scientists all over the world. Others flee to secret ships in international waters where such laws do not exist. Human cloning has reportedly taken place on such ships. Could it be that such experimentation took place in the research center in Maryland? Whatever the case, there is no mistaking the demonic appearance of the goatman.
The first goatman sighting was reported in 1957 in Maryland where the creature was said to have attacked a group of teenagers in lovers’ lane. Allegedly, the goatman uses a hatchet to dismember its victims, which it then consumes. Other cases involve mutilated pets and the sudden disappearance of a group of hikers. Though the goatman has been talked about for decades now, the story remains fresh in the minds of many Marylanders, especially those that reside around Bowie and the infamous haunted Fletcher Road, largely believed to be the goatman’s home. Some consider the goatman as nothing more than a teenage prank that has persisted into the modern day, while others still believe it to be the apparition of a devil.
Perhaps the most striking story that came out of Maryland about the goatman was that of a family dog that was found decapitated. Ginger, a German Shepherd mix, belonged to a local family in Bowie named the Edwards until it was found on the side of Fletcher Road—or at least, the head was found. The rest of the body was never recovered. The local police gave the possible explanation that the dog was hit by a train on the nearby tracks and that the head found its way to the road. However, the group of teenagers that found Ginger’s head were unconvinced. One of them said that the night before, he encountered a large animal that walked on two legs, had a foul odor, and that made a “screeching” noise before running off. April Edwards, the owner of the dog, also reported seeing a similar animal that walked on two legs the night that Ginger was killed.
The Alabama Shapeshifter
When I was about 16, I went to visit some family in Alabama. I have an uncle who owns a huge tract of land, including several trailers used for hunting and camping down in Huntsville. Being a city boy from Chicago, I looked forward to spending a few weeks out in the bush. Some of my cousins thought it would be a good idea to go camping as soon as I got there. I knew they were all eager to harass me for being a city slicker who didn’t grow up on the family farm. I saw a kid not much older than me slaughter a few chickens, pluck them, and quarter them into meal-sized portions. We also brought some bratwurst sausages and drinks and stuffed them all down several coolers. It was going to be a good time. My cousins invited their friends as well. In all, we were ten—six girls and four dudes, all around 15 and 17 years old. What could possibly go wrong with ten teenagers and boozed up in the woods? Of course, at the time, nobody cared about that. We just wanted to have fun with no adult supervision. As we were setting up camp that day, I noticed a strange smell—kind of like copper. I wasn’t the only one who smelled it. One of my younger cousins Junior said that it smelled like “ozone.” I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it was a funky smell—sort of like a gassy haze. It sometimes smells like that before electric storms.
I thought nothing of the smell and we all went swimming in the creek rather than unpack our things. We see some rustling in the bush and out comes a white guy carrying a shotgun and his teenage son. I and my cousins are all black, so seeing a redneck looking dude come down the bush like that is more than unsettling. I guess redneck looking dudes are common in the south because one of my cousins started talking to him. Turns out the man is a friend of my uncle lives right near him, and he warned us about some animal lingering in the woods, possibly a cougar. A big animal. We told him we were going to camp for a few days, and he kept saying to be careful. His son named Tanner offered to want to hang with us, which his dad okayed. I didn’t mind they both seemed friendly enough. Now there were 11 of us. When the adult left we went back to doing shenanigans, mostly drinking and tossing a football around and telling jokes.
We headed back to the camp to get things in order. Tanner said he wanted to ask his dad if he could camp with us, but it was getting a little dark, so my cousin Rooster said he would go with him, and a girl also went. They had to take flashlights because the sun was about to set and the trail was a good distance out. The rest of us kickback, get a fire going and make some s’mores. It was all fun and games until that weird smell filled my nostrils again. It felt like I had a nosebleed because of the coppery scent in my throat. I go around checking the campsite for any signs of an electrical malfunction. Maybe a hotplate got left on or something. Soon as I’m done checking we hear Tanner and his group running towards us, full speed and absolutely losing their minds. They don’t say anything, just go straight into one of the campers and shut the door. We all get this herd mentality and follow them inside, but most of us are laughing like it’s a joke. Maybe they saw the boogeyman. Inside it’s a different story. Tanner looks honest to god distraught. His face is red as if he’d been crying the whole way here. In fact, he was crying.
I had to tell everyone shut up to let the man speak. This is what he told us: he and the others went to his dad’s place to ask for permission which he said yes but warned him again about the animal. Maybe take the rifle, he said. “I saw something in the yard a few nights ago, one of our pigs laid with its guts out and half its head missing. Just left there, like it’d been killed for sport.” “We saw something coming back,” this time it was Rooster talking. “It was just some guy in the bush making noise. When we shone our flashlights, he was facing away from us and wouldn’t turn around.” They kept walking on the trail, then they heard low gibbering sounds like if a boar was out there in the bush. “I saw something moving out of the woods,” the girl said, also crying. “It was like dragging itself, I don’t know what it was.” Then Tanner spoke. “Something jumped behind us man, on the track back there. That’s why we started running. We saw the light from the fire and booked it in that direction”
The girls are mostly quiet or still giggling. Some of us are trying to figure out what happened. Maybe some actual rednecks out there messing with us? Possible. The smell of “ozone” was back, this time permeating through the trailer. Everyone already on edge and with that smell reeking, tempers ran short. I was trying to explain to Tanner that if they saw a person then someone is trying to pull a prank. We may even be in real danger. Then out of nowhere, my younger cousin Junior asked: “Did the thing have horns?” What the hell was he talking about? “If it had horns it was probably one of them goatmen. We are probably in his woods we need to get out of here.” I told him to stop talking nonsense when everyone is already spooked out. It took some effort to get him to shut up, but eventually, he did, shaking his head all the way.
For some reason, the smell suddenly lifted as if a giant vacuum sucked it right out of the cabin and woods. It was gone as quickly as it had come. I’ve never experienced a shift in a tactile sensation like that. Usually, when an aroma goes away it fades slowly in varying degrees of intensity, but not this time.
Eventually, people start going back outside to get some fresh air and drink some beers almost as if nothing had happened. I think we were all a little scared at that point and just wanted to get some booze to calm the nerves. It’s about 9 or 10 and nobody is thinking about going back home. What if the rednecks from before chased us out of the woods? It was dark—too dark to be traveling in such a large group. Someone could easily fall behind and get lost. Not to mention, I hardly knew any of my cousins’ friends. There was Tanner, one of the few white people there. My cousin Junior and Rooster, who I knew very well, and another cousin and his sisters. We did have informal introductions, but I’m not going to lie, some of their names didn’t stick well with their faces. I suspected I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. We were a little drunk, too. We decided to stay the night, at least, and see what the morning brought.
But nothing else happened. We stay. Some of us still hungover, go to the creek again. By this time everyone has forgotten about last night’s events and we are having a good time. I’m getting to know everyone there a little bit better, but at 11 people, it's hard to keep track. I wonder how teachers do it. At around 1 A.M. everyone is huddled around the fire telling stories. Some scary, others just funny. The weird smell comes back, this time so intense that one of the girls doubles over and starts gagging. We go inside, which one provides a little relief. My cousin Junior is piping up about the Goatman again, and how it smells of ozone. I decide it’s a good time to fry up the sausages on a hot plate. Maybe the smell will counteract that of the “ozone” and meanwhile we get a bite to eat. This is where Junior accuses me of getting two sausages rather than one. Four to a pack, 3 packs. That’s 12 sausages, one each. I only had one sausage. Then it dawned on me. What the hell? Somebody screamed, and everyone ran out of the cabin—as if trying to escape death.
“I counted twelve people in there. Now there’s only eleven” said Tanner. How long? How long what? How long where they in that cabin? It’s hard to tell. Hell, it could have been in there for that entire day and nobody would have noticed. One of the girls said that someone touched her arm and whispered an indecipherable language in her ear, and that’s when she screamed and ran out. It took a great deal of bravery and large sticks to get back inside the cabin. We did another headcount, only 11. Whatever was in here was gone now, that was for sure. The girl who got touched head off the next morning. Three others go with her, including Tanner so he can get his dad’s rifle. I had to stay because I had my uncle’s keys, and the rest of the group thought someone was just playing games.
We are waiting for Tanner inside the cabin, and someone points out that the girl who was touched is outside. “Look its Keira!” But we had just seen her leave that morning, terrified out of her mind. Then I smelled the coppery smell again. Now people seriously think we are playing a prank on them. I assure them I’m not. One of those girls goes out to get Keira and I just let her go. Let her find out for herself I guess, since words sure as hell aren’t working. But before she can get to her, Keira starts acting funny. If I had to describe it, she was extending her back as if laughing, meanwhile bending her knees forward. But there was no laugh. It was dead quiet. The girl bolted right inside after that.
We watch Keira for a while and she just stands there for like 20 minutes. We hear a loud bang on the door that freaks us all out. Then we hear Tanner’s voice hollering out to let him in. Keira is nowhere in sight now. Then Tanner says something that throws everyone back into terror. “There are seven people in here. I counted eight earlier” He was right. Whatever that thing was last night had been in here again when we were talking about who was going where. I was glad we had the rifle, though. Tanner told us his older cousin was coming by later to check in on us. A huge argument broke out because people were still accusing us of this thing being a huge prank. We just sit quietly and try to get a station on the radio.
When the cousin shows up, he’s confused because Keira isn’t with us. “I just ran into her back there I thought she was heading this way. Why was she on the trail, anyway?” He told us how strange she was acting, slowly creeping behind him as he walked, never saying a thing when he tried talking to her. The weird heaving. And he could have sworn she tried saying something to him a low voice, but the words didn’t register. “And what’s what that smell? Have you guys been frying up pig’s blood or what? It got worse as I got to the camp” Slowly I and Tanner tried to get him up to speed with our theory of what was happening. There was the prank theory, and there was the Goatman theory as per my cousin Junior kept reminding us. I don’t think the prank theory held any weight now, but the cousin seemed to understand. “It’s a good thing I brought my rifle,” said the cousin. Now we had two rifles. I was feeling a bit safer.
The smell came back around 11. It was so thick you almost taste blood in the air simply by opening your mouth. Then came the thuds on the door. Half sounding like a banging fist, half sounding like clawing. Then came the voices. “Let me in” Only, the words were stifled, demonic even. Sometimes, cats and dogs make weird noises that owners refer to “talking.” It kind of sounded like that. We all sit silently as this continues for a few minutes. The smell fades a little, but we can hear something walking around the cabin, making noise. At about 2 am Tanner’s cousin Reese says he’s had enough and walks outside with his rifle. He’s a bit hysterical, cursing something about “Jesus Christ compels you” he shoots several rounds into the air. We can hear a maniacal hooting in between shots and then agonized screaming as if Reese landed a hit. He ran back inside, and we locked the door behind him. We heard the screams continue until they eventually faded. Whatever that thing was, it probably made its way back to the tree line where Reese had shot it. Slowly, we all nodded off to sleep. Tanner propped a chair next to the door and kept his rifle in his hands. He only told this to me, two days after we left the campsite for good. He told me that he was awoken by someone leaving the bathroom and joining us on the floor for sleep. He said he counted nine people. He pretended to be sleeping but was awake the whole time. He figured if he tried taking a shot, the Goatman would either kill us all, or someone would get hit in the crossfire between two rifles. Instead, he just watched it, opening his eyes every now and then. It left to the bathroom and back several times. It would periodically stand up and heave the same way Keira was doing earlier, or it would start to jitter all over.
Nothing happened in the morning. We all ate breakfast, packed up and were on our merry way. Though this time, nobody was laughing. We had drunk all the booze anyways. Tan caught up to me on the trial and told me that there was a screen-less window in the bathroom nobody had bothered to lock. Of course. That’s how the thing got inside nobody bothered to check. I haven’t visited Alabama since, and none of my cousins blame me for it.
