The Hobgoblin of the Redwoods

by Trevor Scott

  I had to shake my head. Maybe that tofu pizza was having a strange effect on me.

  “You don’t believe in these things, Ben?” she asked me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “There’s this big, hairy homeless guy who lives down by Fisherman’s Wharf. And, come to think of it, he does have big feet.” I tried my best not to smile, but I think I failed.

  “Can I finish the story?”

  Sara nodded her head eagerly. I sighed and shrugged in defeat.

  “As I said, we have all heard of Bigfoot. But when I first got here, the oldest ranger at the park told me about this ancient creature that lived in the Redwoods just a short distance from here. He had seen...the creature...the Hobgoblin only a few times in the past twenty years. Yet, the encounter left a great impression on him. He never enters the forest on his own. And even with others, he carries a gun, even though the creature has never tried to hurt him.”

  Sara moved closer to Aunt Danielle, her hand clasped nervously on her lap.

  Outside, the rain continued to pound the roof.

  I let out a deep breath. “Is this almost where you jump and say boo?”

  Aunt Danielle cocked her head to the side trying her best to ignore me. “Let me finish, please. I was skeptical too when I first heard the story. But then I went down to the library after I heard this next part. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you want me to continue? Or will you have nightmares?”

  “I ain’t afraid of no Hobgoblin?” I said.

  “Go on, Danielle. Finish.” Sara said.

  “All right. But remember, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

  We both nodded agreement.

  “The old man, I can’t tell you his name, told me about all the missing children who ventured too far into the Redwoods. He told me about how there has never been a trace of any of them found. Why?”

  We both shrugged.

  “Because the Hobgoblin eats only the young,” she whispered softly. “Only the young who have gone too far into the forest.”

  Snap! The fire popped loudly, sending a burning chunk onto the old wooden floor.

  Danielle jumped up and kicked the fiery chunk back into the fireplace. Then she paused for a moment, glanced toward the front door, and listened carefully.

  Nothing.

  “What does the Hobgoblin look like?” Sara asked, her interest evident as she leaned toward Danielle.

  She hesitated and then said, “Not many have seen him, but I hear his nose is long and skinny, his ears are pointed, and his skin is shriveled like when you’ve spent too long in the bathtub—only ten times more.”

  I thought I heard a noise outside, and so did Danielle because her head shot around toward the front door.

  Nothing!

  She continued, “He’s really hairy, and I hear he doesn’t have to wear many clothes.”

  “Like a animal,” Sara said softly, her eyes wide.

  “Yes. Almost like the snow monkeys from Japan.”

  We all heard another noise outside.

  Danielle looked at Lucky, who was now in a sitting position, staring out the window.

  “What’s the matter, Danielle?” Sara asked quietly.

  “Nothing,” she said. “It’s probably just that bear that keeps knocking over my garbage can.” She turned and put another log on the fire.

  “You have bears in these woods?” Sara said, “And you’re worried about Hobgoblins?”

  Suddenly, there was a crash outdoors.

  Lucky jumped toward the door and growled.

  5

  “What was that?” I asked. It sounded like some kind of wood snapping.

  Danielle got to her feet and walked softly toward the door, yanking on Lucky’s collar. She peered out a small window next to the door and switched on the outside light.

  By now my sister and I were standing to the left of our aunt, whose normal ease had been replaced by uncertainty. All I could see was sheets of rain coming down at an angle.

  “See anything?” I asked. “Maybe it’s a grizzly.” I smiled and poked my sister in the ribs.

  “There aren’t any grizzlies in California,” Danielle said softly. “Not for more than a hundred years. But we do have a bunch of black bears.” She reached for the door knob and glanced back over her shoulder at us.

  Then with one quick motion, she swung the door inward.

  Sara and I both screamed.

  Standing there, dressed all in black like a grim reaper, a hood pulled up around its face, water dripping down from top to bottom, was...an old man.

  “Jesus,” he said, twisting a pinky in his left ear. “Even with my poor hearing, that hurts.”

  Danielle let out a deep sigh. “Mr. Hatfield,” she said. “What are you doin’ out here so late?”

  “Mostly freezin’ my rear end off,” he said. “Can I come in to your fire?”

  I glanced over at Lucky, whose tail was waging furiously. If Lucky liked the old man, maybe he was okay. The old guy had a strange way of talking, as if he was having a hard time breathing.

  Danielle let him in, and my sister and I took seats again by the fire. The man just stood close to the fire dripping water onto the floor. He pulled his hood off, revealing scraggly gray hair to his shoulders. His skin was as wrinkled as one of those dogs that come from China. When he took in a deep breath, I could see he was missing a few teeth, and those that were still there were the color of coffee.

  Without prompting, the old guy said, “Kind a weather only the Hobgoblin could like.”

  Sara’s eyes got wide.

  I said to Danielle, “Is this the guy you told us about? The guy who told you about the Hobgoblin?”

  The old guy looked at Danielle. “You told them about the Hobgoblin?”

  Danielle shrugged. “Well, I thought they should know...you know, since they are children. I didn’t want them to become his snack.”

  That was strange. She wasn’t smiling.

  “True enough,” the old guy said. “I just hope they believe you.” He pointed his long, skinny finger at me. “You listen to your aunt. She knows about these things.”

  That was weird, I thought. How did he know Danielle was our aunt?

  Danielle went to the kitchen and returned shortly with a hot cup of tea she had made after dinner and put in a thermos. She handed it to the old wrinkled guy.

  “Here you go, Mr. Hatfield,” she said. “This is a good night for tea.”

  He took the cup in both hands, which were shaking slightly, and immediately sipped from it. Then he said, “Thanks, young lady. Around these parts, it’s always a good day for tea.”

  Danielle didn’t take a seat, but I didn’t know why. “You see that bear outside tonight?” she asked him.

  “No, no. But it wasn’t the bear I was lookin’ for, you know.” He gave her a knowing grin.

  Then, as his coat slipped open a little bit, I noticed the gun on his left hip. It was one of those old western-style six shooters.

  “Did Danielle tell you that Hobgoblin ain’t far from here?”

  We both nodded.

  “Good!” he said. “You stay out of the Redwoods. That Hobgoblin can hear a child’s voice from a mile away—those pointy ears of his. He can smell ya too with that narrow, long nose. Like a weasel that one. As mean as one, too.” He turned his gaze from us and looked at Danielle. “I miss anything?”

  “His eyes,” she said.

  “Yes, his eyes,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “His eyes are beady little black things like the eyes of a mouse. But his can see just as good at night as yours do in the day.” He thought for a second. “And they glow in the dark.”

  “Don’t forget the smell,” Danielle said.

  “Right. He smells like a bag of wet rags that have molded up. Kinda like a bear that hasn’t been outta the rain in months.”

  “Where does he live,” I asked. I wasn’t buying this, but I also didn’t want to insult their story either.

  “He�
��s close,” the old guy said. “But if we knew exactly where, we’d go after him. Legend has it, he lures young ones like you into his camp with food and the warm fire...and then....”

  “That’s enough,” Danielle said. “Don’t you have to make your rounds?”

  He smiled at Danielle, finished the tea, and headed toward the door. He reached down to Lucky and rubbed a spot under his chin, which the dog seemed to like.

  “I better be heading out,” the old man said. “I got Sparky in the truck. Thanks for the tea and the fire.” He narrowed his eyes toward me and Sara. “You two listen to your aunt and stay away from the Redwoods. You get in there and they’ll swallow you up.” He swept his hand through the air. “Then the Hobgoblin will find you. Enough said.”

  Danielle opened the door for him. “You stay dry now, Mr. Hatfield.” She handed him one of Lucky’s dog biscuits. “Here, give this to Sparky.”

  He smiled a crooked grin and headed out into the pouring rain.

  Our aunt had a disturbed look on her face after locking the door and turning off the outside light. She went directly to the fire and started poking it with a metal stick.

  “Who’s Sparky,” my sister asked.

  “His dog,” she said. “Could have been Lucky’s sister. I think it’s time for you two to hit the hay. You’ve had a long day.”

  Neither of us complained.

  I got into my room, got undressed, and lay down in bed. After turning off the light on the nightstand, I tried to see any light at all. Nothing. I looked to where the window should have been, thinking I could see something, anything, and still saw nothing. I could hear the rain and the wind but nothing else. There were no city sounds. No cars. No sirens. Not a single sound but that of water hitting the soggy roof, and of trees swaying in the stiff breeze.

  And it was that absolute silence that kept me awake for the next hour.

  6

  The next morning we got up and my aunt told us she had to go to work. But first she would drive us to the Redwood National Park, a short distance away, to show us around. On the drive in the day before there had been a heavy fog, so we saw very little but misty forest and swirling ferns.

  But the rain that had pounded us last night had moved on, and, according to Danielle, this was the first they had seen of the sun in two weeks.

  We grabbed some granola bars for the road, and Danielle had her sipper cup with tea.

  Driving back down the bumpy road, each hole we hit sent water flying from a puddle. Nobody said much. It was almost as if the night before had been a dream.

  When we got to the main paved road, Danielle took a left and headed up toward the park. The trees were already getting bigger. It wasn’t long before we reached the park entrance, and then, for the first time, I saw the Redwoods. I couldn’t speak now if I wanted to.

  Although the trees at Danielle’s house were huge, and some were even Redwoods, I don’t think there was a word in the English language to describe these. Maybe enormous. Or gigantic. Is gargantuan a word?

  “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Aunt Danielle asked. “Some of these are more than two thousand years old. Just think, when pioneers first came here hundreds of years ago, they would have looked about as tall. The average Redwood lives six hundred years and they are the tallest trees in the world. One just down the road from my house was measured at over three hundred and sixty-seven feet tall. That’s about as tall as a thirty-five story building in your city.”

  “Wow.” Sara struggled in the center seat to see the tops of the Redwoods, but her seat belt wouldn’t let her go forward far enough. “I can’t see the tops,” she pouted.

  “You will soon,” my aunt told her.

  Moments later we pulled into a parking lot at the headquarters.

  “Is this where you work?” Sara asked.

  “Sometimes. Much of my work is done out in the field.”

  “But I don’t see any fields,” Sara said, looking around.

  I let out a deep breath. “Are you sure we had the same parents? She means out in the woods.” I shook my head.

  “Oh.”

  We got out and Danielle showed us inside the headquarters. There were displays of a slice of a Redwood, showing us all the years it had lived. There were also little markers at various points showing points in time. When the pioneers first settled the area. The Revolutionary War. When Jesus was born. When the pyramids in Egypt were built. Man, that was one old tree.

  We also learned that the Redwoods can get as much as twenty-two feet in diameter.

  “So you could drive a car through one?” I asked Danielle.

  “We’ll get to that,” she said. “There are three trees privately owned that charge a fee to drive through them. We’ll go see one sometime this summer.”

  We moved on and I read another display. The bark was about twelve inches thick, and fire can’t hurt these big trees.

  Danielle came up to me. “Do you know they can weigh up to one and a half million pounds,” she said. “And, it’s said that one large Redwood could build about thirty two-story houses.”

  “No way,” I said.

  My aunt smiled and nodded. “But, we don’t use them to build whole houses. In fact, all of the Redwoods in this park are protected. And it’s a good thing, because ninety-six percent of our old growth Redwoods have been cut. Of the four percent remaining, three percent are protected in parks.”

  I looked around. “And it takes a long time for these to be old growth again.”

  “That’s right. Longer than any of us will be around.”

  Next, Danielle showed us the back offices, places where tourist weren’t allowed to go. It was mostly computers and filing cabinets. Boring.

  Once that was done, we all got back into the pickup and headed down toward her house again. She said we would be staying at her place while she went up into the forest for a few hours.

  “Why can’t we go with you?” Sara pleaded, as we made our way down the last stretch of Danielle’s driveway.

  “It’s nothing special, Sara. We’re just going to check a few cameras and track spots.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “We’re looking for evidence of wolverines in the Redwoods. They used to be here years ago, and a mushroom picker last fall swore he saw one only a few miles from the park headquarters.”

  “That’s not so far for us to go,” Sara said. “We wouldn’t be any trouble.”

  Here we go again. Anytime my sister says she won’t be any trouble, that’s when you have to watch out.

  Danielle had an uncertain look on her face, as if she might actually let us tag along. “I’m sorry, Sara. It’s against the rules. I could lose my job.”

  We finally rounded the last turn, and something had changed about Danielle’s house. Well, not the house. What was in front of the house. Sitting on the porch were two bikes. Old bikes. One was an ancient mountain bike, and the other was a shorter girl’s mountain bike. It was in better shape than the taller one, but had still seen many miles.

  “Do you have company?” my sister asked.

  Danielle smiled as she parked and got out of the truck. “Nope. A friend lent those to me. She said you two could use them all summer.”

  Lucky met us near the bikes and I gave him a soft pat on his head. I still wasn’t sure if he was going to take my arm off. The mountain bike fit me just fine.

  “Can we go for a ride?” I asked Danielle.

  “Well...you can ride up and down my driveway while I’m gone,” she said. “I’ll only be out in the woods for a couple of hours.” She got back into her truck, rolled down her window, and motioned for me to come over.

  I looked at Sara, who was still checking out her bike. “Yeah?”

  “Your dad told me I could trust you in charge of your sister for a short while,” Danielle said. “That won’t be a problem, right?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Don’t ride into town. The road gets a lot of traffic. A
nd....” She hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Sara. “Remember what I told you last night. Don’t go into the Redwoods!” She was more serious than I had ever seen her.

  “No problem.”

  She glanced back behind her. “Did you notice that road back there a short way?”

  I had noticed it today in the sunlight. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be up that road about two miles,” she said. “After about a mile it hits the Redwoods. I hear that if you keep going on that road it ends up in Oregon. Anyway, I won’t be that far away. If you have any problems, you can call me on my cell phone. The number is by the phone in the house. There’s plenty of food, so make sure your sister gets something to eat. If you can’t reach me, there’s a list of numbers by the phone. These are all friends and co-workers of mine. They’ll help you out.”

  I saluted her. “Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?”

  She shook her head and drove away.

  Little did I know that it might be the last time I see her...or the last time she saw us.

  7

  I think I might have told you I’m a curious kid. I can’t help myself.

  So, what was the first thing I did once my aunt left putting me in charge? I went scrounging for something to do.

  I don’t know what I was thinking. I led my little sister through the small log cabin, looking for anything that might interest us. Like I said before, my sister and I used to ride bikes, watch T.V. or play video games. We also spent a lot of time on the internet.

  Yet, as we went around Danielle’s house, we found none of that.

  “Did you see her T.V.?” I asked Sara.

  “Nope. Also no computer, not even in her bedroom.”

  I scratched my head. “So, let me get this straight. We’re supposed to be here all summer without T.V., a computer, or video games? What was dad thinking?”

  I walked into the living room where the fireplace was, and I looked at the wall of books. Most were college text books, but there were also rows and rows of fiction—including about a hundred young adult mysteries.