Spook Hill

The following is a story I wrote with my great nephew, who is 13, in mind. I put it together into a little book for him with family pictures, pictures of my dad when he was younger and in the army-World War II. I printed out a plain copy for my other brothers and sisters and put them in the mail. I was still finishing up the little book when I decided to put "In Memory Of" at the end of it. I hadn't thought about the date at all, never crossed my mind; so imagine my surprise when I found the date he passed away was November 1st, 1998! I got tingles up my spine as everyone will probably receive their copy of the story on November 1st, 2008........10 years ago!
One thing that really bothered me when my father passed away was thinking about the kids, those already born and those yet to be born, and how they would never have the chance to know him. I think that this was daddy's way of telling me, "HEY, DON'T LET THEM FORGET ABOUT ME!!"
I hope you enjoy the story! And to my dad, you may be gone but you will never be forgotten!

"Spook Hill"

Once upon a time, as stories often begin, there was a boy.

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There was a boy who was full of energy, who wasn’t scared of anything – you know the kind I mean? The toughest boy in the school yard, the one who was always ready to go frog giggin’ in the middle of the night, the one who would jump on the wildest pony and tame it down with just one ride around the pasture. He would walk across the field that contained the wildest, meanest bull, or feed mamma’s chickens even when that crazy old rooster that thrived on peckin’ everyone was around! All the other boys kind of looked up to him and all the girls batted their eyes at him to try and get his attention.

This boy was the apple of his mother’s eye and made his father’s eyes gleam with hopes for the future and the family. He was the only son. He had two sisters, Ruth and Joan, who were sometimes fun to play with but most of the time they wanted to do girly-girly things like play with dolls, which of course was no fun at all for a boy like that!

Sometimes when the days grew long and hot in the summer, the sisters would go down to the creek with the boy and skip rocks or go fishin’ at the pond that held the biggest old catfish around. The boy had come pretty darn close to catchin’ it once, but the sly old fish had slipped away just when he was ready to flop it up on the bank. He was very upset and discouraged about this, and though he tried and tried again, he never got another glimpse of that big old catfish!

There were several members of the family who lived nearby. His grandparents lived right up the road with his uncles Frank and Marion who were just a little older than the boy. When the three of these boys got together, you never knew what kind of mischief they’d get into! Marion, in particular, was always good at playing practical jokes.

One time he put a little green garden snake in the girl’s picnic basket. The girls and some friends were all set to go on a picnic that day and their mothers had packed sandwiches and even some frosted sugar cookies along with a couple jars of fresh, cold lemonade. They set off across the creek through the special woods to a clearing. Here they spread out their blanket and were reading a book to each other, one of those sappy books like ‘Jane Eyre’, as the wind blew gently through the trees.

The boys were supposed to join them for the picnic after they helped muck out the stalls in the barn where the cows lived. Little did the girls know that the boys had already finished and were right then watching them through the trees. Joan was the one who opened the basket to retrieve the jug of lemonade. She was talking to one of the other girls, reaching into the basket when all of a sudden she felt something…something slimy that moved. Instinctively, she closed her hand at the exact same time the little snake coiled around her arm. She jumped back from that basket so fast; she fell on her butt where the little ol’ snake, who by this time was just as scared as the girl, landed on her belly! The girl and the snake looked in each other’s eyes, one’s brown and as big as silver dollars, the other’s beady little eyes also growing bigger.

Joan jumped up and ran screaming with the snake still attached to her skirt, running in circles, hollering like a banshee. The poor little snake finally got itself loose and seemed to fly through the air like a bird before landing smack in the middle of “Jane Eyre”, which by this time was forgotten. The other girls started screaming and in the midst of all this, the boys were laughing so hard they were on the ground rolling around and bellowing like silly old squirrels! When the girls calmed down enough to realize what had happened, that it was all because of those mean old boys, they were mad, so mad you could almost see the steam rising from their ears. They stomped back to the house where they told the sorriest story you ever heard. There were willow sticks cut that evening and lots of switching going on (which included legs and butts). But when the men got together, they secretly laughed about the mischievousness and antics of the boys, which perhaps reminded them of their own childhoods.

One day a neighbor needed some help at his farm and hired the three boys to help him. They were to clean out the old man’s hayloft and help load it for the winter. They worked throughout the afternoon, and by evening were just finishing up, when the man came out and said he had one more job that needed to be done. Well, Frank and Marion had to get home as their mother had firmly told them they had to be in attendance for dinner because there was a guest coming. While the two headed for home, the boy stayed to help the neighbor with the last job of the day, which consisted of moving a woodpile closer to the house.


It was way after dark when the remaining boy, the toughest boy of all, finished up and started on the two mile trek home. There was a full moon lighting the way and he tarried only a moment to say “Hi” to Betsy, the horse that lived in the pasture at the bottom of the hill. Everything was going just fine, and the boy was about half way up the hill when the moon seemed to go behind the clouds and it became very dark. Then he heard some rustling sounds in the woods to his right. He cautiously looked in that direction because in those days there were tales of wolves who still roamed around the countryside and if hungry enough would surely eat one boy.
He didn’t see anything and went on, when all of a sudden he heard a rustling sound in the woods to his left. At this point, the boy was getting a little agitated and if the truth be known, a little scared. He went a little faster and proceeded up the hill, which seemed to grow only longer and longer. All of a sudden, he heard a sound---like a hoot. It grew louder and louder and seemed to come from all around him. “Whoo Whoo Whoo” went the sound “Whoo are you?” The sound seemed to flow through the air all around him. Then he heard a sound like a loud swish right by his ear, and then another “Whoo Whoo”. By this time, the boy was fit to be tied! He picked up his feet and he ran like the wind until he reached the top of the hill and stopped to catch his breath. Just when his breathing slowed and he had calmed down a little, he heard the loud swish right by his ear again and an echoing “Whoooo” dissolving into the dark.

Once again, he picked up his steps, this time even faster, running and running not even bothering to look back at all. He didn’t stop until he reached the house where his mother was in the kitchen. He must have been as white as a ghost because his mamma said, “Clayton, what’s the matter with you?” This boy, so full of energy, so rough and tough, ran straight into his mother’s arms where he stayed for a while being cuddled! When he calmed down enough to talk, all he would say was that the hill was spooked. Hence, since that day, this hill has been referred to as “Spook Hill”!


By this time, perhaps you’ve figured out that this story is about your grandfather, PoPo, and your uncles. But have you guessed what scared the boy so much that night?? It was nothing more than an old hoot owl! This old owl must have left quite an impression on your Po, because it was a story that he repeated often through the years. I wonder at the teasing he must have taken from the older boys for being such a scaredy cat that night!

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Years later, Uncle Danny and Aunt Barb had a horse in the pasture at the bottom of that same hill. There were other horses there, too, and one weekend they all got out. Several men came to help round them up and get them back in the pasture. Daddy was about 67 years old by this time, no longer the little boy described in this story. Somehow, Aunt Barb’s horse (the one she babied all the time) got saddled up and there daddy went riding all over the pasture. He rode up and down that hill whooping and hollering, having the time of his life disregarding the years and the aches and pains that time had brought upon him. It was almost like, after all those years, he was still trying to prove once and for all that he wasn’t scared of “Spook Hill” anymore!!


In Loving Memory of Clayton D. Gard
January 4, 1922 - November 1, 1998