Monsters Are Out There.

Stories and Lessons from the Farm 3

Every farm in our community had a yard-light. When I looked in any direction from our yard on a clear night I could make out some of them. When we drove home from a hockey game or a church function at night I could see the many familiar farmyards lit by their lights, marking our way. The Siemens, the Hams and so on. 

What was very interesting was the many bugs of all kinds, attracted to the light. They buzzed around them in droves during the summer nights. I loved to lay on the damp grass watching their bodies and wings glimmering and dancing against the backdrop of the black night above them, their undulating hum music to my ears. 

I always felt both a strange fear and an attraction to this spot of light on the yard. The shadows stark and deep played tricks with  my eyesight. Strange sounds emanated from the darkness. I imagined there were all kinds of fearful wild creatures lurking just beyond the light all around me. I tried hard not to think about them for this was a test. A test of courage.

There was also an ever-present unearthly dark shadow under my body. It moved in a contorted way under my feet, undulating weirdly over the uneven ground, grass, and objects beneath me. When I ran around near the light post it was short and squat but as I moved away it grew and extended itself into a contorted lengthening figure of some other worldly strange creature. I did not know who or what it was. I'd run the whole circle and watch the shadow run with me, stretching itself right into the darkness, making itself one with the night and disappear into the mystery of the beyond. 

To make matters worse my dog Ricky would join me under the light, ruining, sniffing, zig-zaging, his shadow moving, stretching  bulging, dancing as he ran. He'd disappear into the night beyond the edge of the light and I could hear him breathing, moving , then silence and I would lose track of where he was. Suddenly he'd  burst back into the light giving me a fright. 

I felt I had to spend time under the yard light.  It was after all, a real test of my courage. Would I be able to stay under the light without running back into the house in a panic of abject fear? I did not like to stop moving because then the sounds of the night would slowly increase in volume. Everything sounded erie even if I knew what it was. Frogs and crickets sang into the night. During the day I never gave them a thought, but at night it was different. They kind of hid the sounds the monsters out there made. The rustling, the snapping of twigs, the groans, the wind. Yes, the wind was really bad, for these monsters would be breathing and you couldn't tell the difference from the wind. So I knew there were monsters out there beyond the edge of the light.

My parents, being adults, of course "had to tell me" there were no monsters out there in the dark. My mind would never really believe them.  The reason was very simple, it was because I could tell by their tone of voice that they were just saying that to make me feel better. It was like they protested too much for me to be convinced. 

You see, to tell you the truth, I had gone into the darkness myself. I had personal experience. I knew, for a fact that I'd heard sounds in the dark that I'd never heard during the day. I was very sure the that there were some strange and scary "things" out there. 

Then it happened. My Dad came out of the house with the water pail for drinking, asking if I'd could go to the well and bring some water back to the house. He turned and disappeared into the darkness. I could hear his steps as he walked, then I heard the door close. I stood alone in the circle of light, surrounded by darkness holding an empty metal water pail.

Our well was a very very long way from the house! And it was in the dark. Blackness. No streetlights, no houses with window lights, no cars, nothing! I felt very alone and fearful. As I stood there all my senses went into even higher sensitivity. I could smell way more stuff, I could hear a lot of things out there, but I could see nothing at all. Nothing! 

My mind was racing. What would be the best strategy? Do I walk slowly or do I run like mad? If I can't see, running would be crazy, I'll fall over something, like a monster and kill myself! If I walk it will take forever and I'll just go stark raving mad with fear...

I began planning and "visioning" my run like an Olympic athlete. I had to go clear across the yard, duck under the one log fence gate, angle to the left going uphill, find the pump spout and hang the pail on it. Then move off to the left again to a grainery, find the switch and turn on the pump.

I leaned forward into a sprinters position and burst into a run, crashing through the darkness barrier, concentrating on running faster than any monster alive. I was surprised to hear the loud jingling and jangling my pail was making as I swung my arm during my run. I was strangely comforted by the sound. Might scare away the bad guys. The nerves on my back prickled with sensitivity and anticipation of the grasping flesh tearing claws of some huge creature I was sure was right behind me. 

I suddenly panicked  realizing I'd have to slow down for that "one log" gate. So much was happening and had not considered not seeing that log. My mind became conscious of sight, to my amazement, I could see, at least sort of. Of course, my eyes were adjusting to the darkness. Meanwhile, several things were striking me at the same time. I was fast approaching the log and had to think about slowing down so as to duck under it as fast as possible. But I also desperately felt I needed to peek behind me should some "animal" be right there ready to pounce. If in fact that was the case, slowing down would be a bad idea.

Then, with me moving in full stride, the log came rushing toward me. I slowly became conscious of the fact that the log was not set across the gate level with the ground, but that the one end was on the ground to the right side of the gate post. So ducking under was suddenly not an option....I passed over the log, attempting, in the trickery of the moonlight, to judge; take off, leaping height and distance as it related to my "as fast as I could run," running speed. I felt two things, the whack of the log on my shin and the full body length rolling tumble on the hard packed earth in front of the barn. 

When I opened my eyes I could see in the darkness. I slowly got up aware of several new aches and pains, especially one on my shin. I sat there, just because I could. I looked and saw the pail way ahead of me. I waited, thinking. A cow snorted, I turned and saw her looking at me over the water trough. Here I'd hoped no one had noticed. Then Ricky torpedoed his wet nose into my face, thinking it was play time...

As I filled the pail I realized I'd failed the courage test, but, now I knew I'd have a few good scrapes and bruises to show everyone. I  walked painfully all the way back to the house. Just when I got to the door I realized I'd forgotten about the crazies in the dark. Mmmm maybe I had not failed the test.

"Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones shake."     Job 4:14