Wait! I Wrote That? A Collection of Old, Horrific Stories

Story Twenty-Six: Embrose and the Butterfly

Song: "King of the Woodlands" - Peter Gundry

Genre (s): Fantasy/Adventure

Written When? Sophomore Year of College

Prologue

Smokey the Bear on Duty

Three days earlier

        Carter Johnson learned an important lesson–to never hike by himself. Thirty-five and single, he was day hiking the Appalachian Trail in the Great Smoky Mountains when he took a tumble over a rock and broke his leg.

"Damn. And I was so close to reaching Clingman's Dome," he mumbled to himself. There he was, propped up against a rock, with his leg in a very unnatural position. His backpack was next to him, and his hat had rolled down the mountain into the lush greenery below.

Carter searched the area. Nobody was in sight. All he heard were the crows.

They circled him above, calling, "Caw! Caw!"

"I'm not dead!" Carter yelled at them.

"Not yet," the crows seemed to call back.

Carter tried moving his leg. Nope. He was going nowhere. The pain was too much. He would have to call a $50,000 medical helicopter for this. Carter opened his mouth, preparing to yell for help, but he stopped.

Something moved in the greenery where his hat fell.

Oh, gosh. It was a bear. Within minutes, the crows would have Carter for lunch. At least, whatever the bear did not eat.

Carter waited. "I'm too young to die!" he yelled at the bear.

However, it wasn't a bear that appeared over the hill, but a cloaked figure. He said not a word but merely stared at the wounded man.

Carter stayed positive. "'Sup. Hey, you have my hat!"

Sure enough, the figure held his hat in his right, gloved hand.

Pointing up to the crows, Carter asked, "Are those yours? Can you tell them I'm still very much alive?"

Again, the figure said nothing. He eased closer to Carter.

"Whoa! Bro, what are you doing?" asked the thirty-five-year-old, single man. He again tried to move. "Ow!" Terrified, he held his arms up to his face.

Strangely, the cloaked figure did not steal his soul. Instead, he kneeled next to Carter and took his glove off his hand.

Carter never got a good look at him. He had his attention focused on the hand the figure set down on his leg. Only a few seconds later, the skin under the hand glowed up. Carter's leg moved back to its natural position. He felt no more pain.

Up above, the crows stopped circling Carter. They were obviously disappointed. Cawing at one another, they took off in flight.

The mysterious, cloaked figure returned Carter's hat. He gave him a quick bow with his head and started back down the mountain.

All Carter could do was stare. He rested his hand on his leg, which felt brand new. Thank goodness. He wouldn't have to call a $50,000 helicopter after all. Nevertheless, who was that figure? Where did he come from? Who taught him magic? What was the secret of the Great Smoky Mountains?