That Night at Grandpa's (And Other Scary Stories)

The Cannibal of Bad Creek

Looking back, I truly enjoyed those times camping and canoeing with my 4th-6th grade Sunday School class. However, what happened on the canoe trip my 6th grade year caused me to give up canoeing forever.

Our Sunday School class met at base camp to unload the food and supplies. Then we load up what we needed for the trip and headed to our entry point.

Bad Creek wound its way through the northwestern farmlands of Ohio. Ditches and field tiles fed the creek well enough for canoeing. Once or twice in previous years, I had to get out and pull my vessel with the hope of not cutting my foot again on something sharp. Most of the time, the only sound I would hear was the hypnotic dribble of water glistening off my oar as I paddled my lone canoe.

That is how I was daydreaming about it anyway.

Instead, a 4th and 5th grade noob stood waiting for me by our ever-unfashionable red fiberglass canoe. So much for this trip being like a lazy river ride at the water park.

After we parked, and unloaded our gear, we took to sliding our red missile down the bank onto Bad Creek, each of us wearing a semi-fashionable orange life jacket. I never thought much about how the creek got its name. There were about to be plenty of moments on this trip which would apply, including our attempts at getting into our canoe. A perilous event for any skinny sixth grader, I made it in first. This meant I had a 50/50 chance of losing my life helping the other two onboard. "Okay, step into the middle ... sit down in the center of the ... hold your oar like ... paddle without leaning ..."

I really wanted to be in a canoe with one of my buds or girlfriend-of-choice, but it just did not happen. For this reason alone, that canoe trip left a very un-Sunday School-like taste in my mouth.

Our not-so dynamic trio was the last to launch on Bad Creek that day. This was life threatening, because we would be the last to arrive to our destination for food. Worse, I was with two others who never canoed before and did not care about food.

Mark, a Karate Kid wannabe, sneak-pinched chew every chance he got. He sat in the front, totally useless to making the canoe move, except when he'd practice his martial arts routine, spit, or heard a noise. Every leaping frog made Mark wobble the canoe to almost tipping, and more than once we took in water because of a muddled "crane" pose.

Tammy did not have a Tomboy bone in her body. She was just weak. I doubt she dressed herself. I never remembered seeing her carry a thing, ever. How she got into the canoe was beyond me. She just appeared there. Was that her superpower? For the whole trip, Tammy sat on the middle bar in a trance. Her blondish-white hair, pale skin, and dark circled eyes added to the pathetic effect. She wore a matching pale dress. A dress! I guess that made it easy for whoever had to clothe the weakling.

Therefore, I alone paddled our crew down Bad Creek. After a while, I took comfort in that. Paddling solo was a lot better than combating competing strokes with the other sixth-grade boys who thought they knew everything about canoeing. Those know-it-alls were up front.

Wait.

They were far up front. We were way behind. In addition, it was getting dark. Mark's comical antics plus Tammy's aloofness wore my patience to breaking point. Moreover, I was very hungry.

To make matters worse, the creek bottomed out, so we had to carry the canoe. Mark picked up the front, Tammy actually picked up one of her pigtails, and I carried the back. The creek widened a bit and we approached a sharp corner. I pushed the canoe wanting to pick up the pace. Mark stumbled, dropped the canoe and, trying to catch his balance, ran flailing toward the bank. After he flipped, and some nasty chew spewed into the air, he rolled down the side of the bank out of sight. I thought I saw Tammy giggle. It was probably my imagination. What muscles did she have to smile?

I left the canoe and Tammy behind and trudged ahead to see if Mark was okay. Even if he had not paddled, I needed him to help carry the canoe over whatever was ahead. I extended my hand to help the face-stained boy up, but something captured his attention. Expecting to see a heron, rabbit, or deer, I turned to see what had caught Mark's horrified stare.

That was the first time I saw the cannibal of Bad Creek. Standing in front of a four-foot high logjam was a golem-like man. Hunched over, he held something secret. A ragged pair of tan shorts barely clung to his body. Muddy hair hit his bare shoulders and hid his sunken face, but not his huge teeth. He seemed to be nibbling on a finger or two. A carcass lay on the creek bank. That was bad ... very bad. Perhaps this is how the creek got its name?

A lump of clothes lied next to him, looking like they might have belonged to someone from our group. Perhaps one of the know-it-alls? Served them right.

My brief inspection was interrupted when the scrawny-looking ogre sniffed then twisted toward us. The cannibal's eyes reminded me of Tammy's.

Speaking of which, where did she go?

He almost stumbled in his excitement to come our direction. Bloody slobber swung as he sloshed closer. I needed backup.

"Maaark!"

The creature lunged at me with a new hunger in its eyes. I was frozen and dry mouthed. Mark, however, struck a well-practiced karate pose and spewed a long stream of brown hitting the cannibal square in the face. This would be the first miracle.

The next came when, the now blinded and off balanced brute, fell into the trickle of creek water, wailing and flailing, trying to wash its stinging eyes. Mark and I raced up the bank so fast our shoes flew off.

Once up and around the logjam, we saw the third miracle: there was our readied canoe with Tammy sitting in her spot still holding her pigtail.

A scream from the creature behind spurred us out of our stupefaction and soon had Mark paddling like an Olympic gold medalist. I rowed like the lunatic we left behind, all the while staring at Tammy as if she was an angel. How did she ever get the canoe around us and on the other side?

She never told me. That would take energy.

I never asked.