June 6th, 2033 | Poal: Say what you want.

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June 6th, 2033

We saw it. We still don't know what it was, though. I called Sheriff Clark as soon as possible, but he still must be sleeping. So, I called state law enforcement. After being redirected a few times, someone finally told me that federal agents are on the way, and that we should stay put until they get here. So, we're just doing that now.

Here's what happened: I drove up to James's house around 6:30, and he was outside waiting for me. He got in the cruiser and threw his shotgun in the backseat. Rufus jumped up onto his lap. James was pretty quiet, but pointed to where we were going. As we're driving, we go past what seemed like acres of dead corn. "Gee James," I say, "you weren't kidding about your crops this season." But, he just sat there. Whatever he saw out there in the fields must have shaken him up real good. At this point, even Rufus had grown quiet. The silence broke. "Here's good," James whispered. I slowed the car to a halt, examining the devastation his field faced. We got out of the car, and instantly Rufus bolted into the stalks. "Rufus!" James shouted, and we were hot on his heels, well as much as we could be without being able to see more than five feet in front of us in all the corn.

We searched and shouted, but we couldn't find the ol' boy. James started to tear up. "That thing got him," he cried, "I know it."

Three rapid barks roared through the silence of the corn. Before the first bark even finished, James was already following its source. A "Keep barking, boy!" and I followed the voices deeper into the corn. Three more barks, a snarl, a yelp. "God damn you, you bastard!" A loud crack followed by another. And then, silence. "James!" I shouted, just before I stumbled over his shotgun. "Good God," I thought, stunned. Rufus and James lie dead. And the blanket beast James described was retracting some tendons or roots from Jame's body. "Lord, help me," I thought and pulled out my pistol. I shot the beast once, then noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Rufus was getting up! And now James, too! Then, further surprising me, James cried, "Stew, don't shoot it!" The beast noticeably relaxed, but fled into the corn with a speed that I didn't expect.

I began checking James and Rufus and found that they were miraculously unharmed. We began to head back to the car; there was no service out there and I had to call Clark from James's home. I looked over and was struck by James's and Rufus's appearances; they looked like a new man and a new dog!

Driving back to the house, I asked "what happened back there, James?"

"When I caught up to Rufus, the beast had him wrapped in its roots then laid him on the ground," he said, smiling down at his dog. "I shot at it once, but it kept coming and grabbed my foot. I remember shooting at it again, but that's all. Then, a voice in my head told me to relax; that Rufus is fine and that I'll be okay, too. It put us to sleep, Stew, and was talking to us in our dreams. And I think we only woke up because of the noise of your gun. Stew, I feel fantastic. Rufus does, too."

"Golly, James."

We arrived at the house, and I went straight to the landline; James still likes the old phones and mobile reception was limited this far from town.

I called Sheriff, but as I said, he must still be sleeping, so I left a message: "Hey Sheriff, it's me, Stewart. Something mighty strange is going down at James's farm. I need you immediately, sir." And then, I called the state. Help is on the way.

Ah, man, I am dang tired. The Sheriff and I were especially busy yesterday. Plus, it's just 6 AM right now. James called me yesterday, and it sounded pretty urgent. He said some strange animal attacked Rufus and him. A blanket animal, he said. Whatever the heck that means. I told him I'd come in early today. Sheriff Clark's been prepping me for sheriff for when he retires, and today's he's "letting me" run things. Though, I think he may just want to sleep in. God, I love the old man, bless his soul. Well, I best be heading down there. ---- We saw it. We still don't know what *it* was, though. I called Sheriff Clark as soon as possible, but he still must be sleeping. So, I called state law enforcement. After being redirected a few times, someone finally told me that federal agents are on the way, and that we should stay put until they get here. So, we're just doing that now. Here's what happened: I drove up to James's house around 6:30, and he was outside waiting for me. He got in the cruiser and threw his shotgun in the backseat. Rufus jumped up onto his lap. James was pretty quiet, but pointed to where we were going. As we're driving, we go past what seemed like acres of dead corn. "Gee James," I say, "you weren't kidding about your crops this season." But, he just sat there. Whatever he saw out there in the fields must have shaken him up real good. At this point, even Rufus had grown quiet. The silence broke. "Here's good," James whispered. I slowed the car to a halt, examining the devastation his field faced. We got out of the car, and instantly Rufus bolted into the stalks. "Rufus!" James shouted, and we were hot on his heels, well as much as we could be without being able to see more than five feet in front of us in all the corn. We searched and shouted, but we couldn't find the ol' boy. James started to tear up. "That thing got him," he cried, "I know it." Three rapid barks roared through the silence of the corn. Before the first bark even finished, James was already following its source. A "Keep barking, boy!" and I followed the voices deeper into the corn. Three more barks, a snarl, a yelp. "God damn you, you bastard!" A loud crack followed by another. And then, silence. "James!" I shouted, just before I stumbled over his shotgun. "Good God," I thought, stunned. Rufus and James lie dead. And the blanket beast James described was retracting some tendons or roots from Jame's body. "Lord, help me," I thought and pulled out my pistol. I shot the beast once, then noticed movement in the corner of my eye. Rufus was getting up! And now James, too! Then, further surprising me, James cried, "Stew, don't shoot it!" The beast noticeably relaxed, but fled into the corn with a speed that I didn't expect. --- I began checking James and Rufus and found that they were miraculously unharmed. We began to head back to the car; there was no service out there and I had to call Clark from James's home. I looked over and was struck by James's and Rufus's appearances; they looked like a new man and a new dog! Driving back to the house, I asked "what happened back there, James?" "When I caught up to Rufus, the beast had him wrapped in its roots then laid him on the ground," he said, smiling down at his dog. "I shot at it once, but it kept coming and grabbed my foot. I remember shooting at it again, but that's all. Then, a voice in my head told me to relax; that Rufus is fine and that I'll be okay, too. It put us to sleep, Stew, and was talking to us in our dreams. And I think we only woke up because of the noise of your gun. Stew, I feel fantastic. Rufus does, too." "Golly, James." We arrived at the house, and I went straight to the landline; James still likes the old phones and mobile reception was limited this far from town. I called Sheriff, but as I said, he must still be sleeping, so I left a message: "Hey Sheriff, it's me, Stewart. Something mighty strange is going down at James's farm. I need you immediately, sir." And then, I called the state. Help is on the way.

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