The Ghost

The sleigh runner hit the rock and busted loose immediately. I pulled the horse to a stop in deep snow. The runner was too damaged to fix. Damn. I patted the horse and unhooked him, I would ride the rest of the way. It was snowing. Everything was eerily silent.

The attack came suddenly, violently. Not even the horse knew the creature was there. The wolf was white like the snow and huge, unlike any creature I had ever seen. I was on the ground instantly and couldn’t breathe. Dazed, I saw my horse running away. It was then I felt the hot breath, smelled the stench of rotting flesh. The wolf stood menacingly above me. My knife out of reach, I was finished.

The giant wolf’s jaws opened impossibly wide, revealing its dreadful yellow teeth. Saliva was dripping off snarled lips. I was going to be torn apart. As I covered my face, a loud crack pierced the air. Something warm splattered my arms and face. I opened my eyes and looked up. The wolf was gone and I was covered in blood. Shaking, I eased up on an elbow. Ten feet away the wolf lay dead, half of it’s head missing, steam still rising from it’s slaughtered carcas.

An aging, bearded man, tall and broad stood over me. He boomed, “Help you up?” He carried an Eli Whitney large bore musket which he placed against a tree and pulled me up with powerful arms. “Been hunting the ghost for weeks. Was at the bend back yonder when he ambushed you. Good thing or you’d been devoured, just like my Jenny. Come back to the cabin, warm up. I’ll burn this devil later.”

Still dazed, still scared, I finally managed, “Thank you.”

The stranger who had just saved my life smiled, grabbed his rifle, patted me heartily on the shoulder and said, “Gladly. Gladly.” He looked up into the trees, his voice now breaking, “I got the ghost Jenny. I got the bastard.”