The Fishing Trip
by
Travis Young
It was a warm morning that day,
with the sun breaking through the enormous, white clouds of Montana. My
son and I were on our usual summer fishing trip. We would pack our bags,
and head to the mountains for a week or two. It was a great time; fly
fishing and sharing stories with one another.
We headed out like we usually did and
started the morning with a hearty breakfast of eggs and toast. Then we
embarked to the river, for the remainder of the morning.
“So, do you have another story for
today, Dad?” exclaimed Nick.
Could think of many, but the ones I
usually tell, he has no interest in. But today, I think he will like
this.
“Yeah, let me think, and wait until
we get to the river.” I said.
We carried our gear along the bank,
traveling through heavy pines and large rocks. Eventually, we found our
hold and began casting.
“Alright, I got one for you.” I
remarked.
“This isn’t gonna be another one of
those stupid ones again huh?” Nick said.
“Well hold up, and let me tell it.” I
stated.
“When I was in high school, there was
a place they called Pine
Mountain. Supposedly, there was a
shack on top that was haunted. The legend is, that a man a long time ago
lived in there. I guess, the story goes that one time these kids went
hunting on that mountain and killed themselves a deer. The old man, then
came out of his shack and was giving them some hell. Eventually, the
argument got pretty heated and turned into an all out fight. The old man
grabbed one of the kids, and beat the pulp out of him but the other kid
shot the old man. The kids buried him outside of his shack, under a big
pine tree. The kids left and agreed to never bring up the incident
again.” I explained.
“They never got caught?” asked Nick.
“No, they lived their lives and never
mentioned it again. The real spooky part is that if you go up on that
mountain now, the old man will haunt you for life.” I said.
“Yeah right!” Nick yelled.
“There are stories about people,
especially kids going up there and never coming back. The ones that do,
have went crazy for what they saw in that mountain.” I explained.
“Do you know of anyone?” asked Nick.
“A couple of people I have heard of,
but I don’t know any. They say he chases you through the woods, and
throws sticks and stones at you, demanding you to leave.” I remarked.
“Did you ever go up there?” Nick
said.
“No, can’t say I have. Why?” I asked.
“Well, I would go up there. I think
it’s all a bunch of stories. “Nick said.
“Alright Nick, you can believe what
you want, but I have to head back because I forgot my set of dry flies.”
I stated.
Hey before you leave, where is Pine
Mountain?” Nick asked.
“Well Nick, to tell you the truth I
think it is the mountain we are looking at right now. The one just
across the river,” I remarked.
On my walk back to the cabin, I was
wondering why I told that story to him. I know that the silence has been
in me for many years, but the guilt is still there in many ways. I hope
he does not decide to walk up on that mountain now, since I have left.
But, for some reason, when I was explaining the story, I could still
hear the scream of the old man. I guess that is just one of those
things that I cannot let go.