Outcast

Welcome to Outcast.

I should be breathing a sigh of relief now that I’ve finally seen the town limit sign, but all I feel is exhaustion. The kind that someone feels when they’ve driven the whole way from the tip of Texas to West Virginia — someone like me. Of course, I made a few stops along the way, but it’s nearly impossible to sleep well in a new place, so I might as well have not slept at all.

While I’ve been to Outcast at least half a dozen times before, I’ve always flown into the nearest airport and rented a vehicle from there. And kind of trip is a vastly different experience than the neverending Texas interstates and winding southeastern roads. There was no amount of coffee and Spotify playlists that could have prepared me.

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that it’s so dark or if it’s my new perspective, but the driveway up to my vacation house seems longer than usual. The gravel crunching under the tires of my sedan gives me an eerie feeling in the dark, and I make a mental note to at least install some solar lights along the edge at some point.

“Finally,” I whisper to my copilot Rory — the chocolate dachshund curled up on the passenger seat — as we get closer to the gray and white house under tree cover. “We’re home, Rory.”

Rory’s tail wags at the sound of my cracked voice, and I give his head a quick scratch before putting the car in park and all but catapulting myself out of my seat.

“Come on, buddy!” Rory’s ears perk at my call and he bounds over the center console and launches himself out of the car. No matter how tired I am, his floppy ears and sweet demeanor always make me smile, and I giggle at his enthusiasm despite wanting to lie down right here and make the grass my bed.

The grass is in awful need of a trim, but the weather is already starting to chill a little so I figure it’s likely free from snakes and lead Rory a little farther in to do his business. I haven’t gotten far before Rory halts, hackles up, and a low growl begins to vibrate in his little chest.

Guess I was severely wrong about snakes. But, the moon isn’t very bright tonight and I can’t see what he sees.

“Rory, come here,” clap my hands in command and silently hope that I don’t have to chase after him if he decides to run after whatever it is he’s seen.

I’ve just about reached him, tiptoeing as not to startle whatever is out there, when he bolts out of my grasp and lets out the little dachshund snarl I’ve come to learn as his ‘attack’ sound. I cringe, waiting for either Rory to whimper or an animal to cry out.

Instead, I hear a distinct humanoid grunt that has me screaming into the dark wondering what kind of cryptid has wandered into my overgrown yard.