The Bowed Man

The autumn sun was warm, the wind cool, leaving the New England area in a red and orange canopy of trees that were one good downpour away from being bare. Abscission had already begun and the soft pinks and yellows of the fallen leaves on the ground brightened the path the four teens walked, creating a tangerine-colored tunnel of forestry that swallowed them away from their town life.

“I think this is the road The Bowed Man lives on,” Emily exclaimed to her friends, her curly red hair bobbing as she walked. The sun cast its light through the orange ends, leaving an amber glow around her face that had shaped into a prankish grin.

“The Bowed Man is a child’s tale Em,” Max responded, giving a small laugh as if the act of teasing Emily would minimize the creeping unease he felt in his muscles. His brothers would tease him while growing up about the old man, joking he would steal him away from their parents and hide him where Max would never be found. Their laughter echoed in his mind at the memory causing him to grind his teeth uncomfortably. Lily turned to face him, her brown eyes casting concern as she spoke.

“People who live in solitude lose their mind so easily. Having nobody to talk to like that?” She turned to face the path again and shook her head as she tried to imagine.

“The Bowed Man?” Ethan questioned. A year ago, after the cost of living in New York went beyond his family’s affordability, he moved to the small town of Standish Maine, and had not heard of the tale his friends were feeling chills over. He had been friends with Max since he started school here and had only been interested in the venture they were on when he learned Lily would be joining.

“The man who killed his son,” Max answered.

The forest seemingly went still under the weight of his reply, as if to join his friends in giving him a stare of silent disbelief.

“Seriously? Come on.” Emily chided; her freckled face scrunched into a scowl.

“The woman just went nuts.”

“Oh please, you heard the tale, she didn’t just go nuts. I bet you only brought it up because you want to see what a man like that looks like,” Max retorted, his voice dripping in sudden annoyance.

“What’s the tale?” Ethan asked to stop the two from bickering, as they often did. Emily was intelligent, but sometimes she behaved like she knew more than others, and Max was a hothead who did not like being told he was mistaken. They all hung out often and sometimes the personality clashes would result in more arguments than Ethan felt comfortable being a part of.

“One day many years ago, like, before we were even born,” Max began, “a woman in town claimed that her husband was a secret murderer who had killed their infant son. The police looked into it and whatever, but due to lack of evidence, they never arrested him. Not long after, the woman was committed to a mental ward after she was reported wandering the streets screaming.

“When the police arrived, she had bitten one of them trying to avoid going back to her husband. Again, there was an investigation and again, they dropped the charges. By that time, people began to talk, and the tale had begun to spin about the murderous man who had moved to a cabin so he could pick off children one by one, never to be caught. The name ‘Bowed Man’ comes from his hunched back to make him appear scarier to kids.”

As he said the name, his arms went up to mime rabbit ears with his fingers, but Ethans gaze remained fixed on the path they walked.

“Is that it?” Lily asked, her soft voice breaking through the eerie tension Maxs recollection of the tale had left. She had lifted her arm to point in front of them. As she did, a tremble went through her.

They all followed her finger through the blur of trees to see a small building sitting off of the edge of the gravel road ahead of them. The gray frame of the structure was vibrant in contrast to its orange environment. As they got closer, the building further revealed itself, although there wasn’t much to see.

The windows were blocked by newspaper, and the forest had been trying to swallow the structure over the years, its vegetation causing the cabin to appear deserted. What was visible was dark and uninviting, minus the vibrant shade of blue on the shutters that had only recently been painted. A red flag hung limply from a mailbox that pulled on its post, leaving it tilted at an awkward angle in front of the cabin. Leaning against it was a rusted sledgehammer and a shovel.

“Do you think he’s in there?” Emily softly questioned, eyeing the tools. Lily was behind her friend, peeking over the redhead’s shoulder. Max stood with his arms crossed, looking left to right and back, his eyes fixed on any spot in the newspapers where The Bowed Man could be watching from. His shirt collected his accumulating sweat and it clung to his athletic form that was ready to fight (or flight) if necessary. Ethan felt heat rise in his chest as he stood to face his friends.

“I’ll find out,” he said throwing his hands in the air as if to subliminally ask, it’s a child’s tale, right? Lily let out a little squeak, like she was going to say something but couldn’t find the words. The idea of creeping on the man felt wrong to be a part of. Emily grabbed her hand reassuringly.

“Are you crazy egghead?” Max asked after Ethan, his voice low to avoid being heard in case the old man had been listening. Although he had been trying to come off strong, despite his hesitation to investigate, his eyes continued to flick around the newspaper in search of beady eyes peaking back. Ethan had already started towards the cabin’s entry and showed no sign of turning back.

The teen who had been walking quickly to prove a point, had begun to slow as he approached the cabin. Now that he was stepping onto its creaking porch, the weight of the moment begun to settle heavily on his shoulders. The sun was behind the building, plunging the porch- and himself- in a shade that was significantly cooler than the air was when he was standing in the sunrays that warmed his bones through the trees above.

He gathered all the nerve left inside of him before knocking on the door. He didn’t want to wuss out now in front of his friends, in front of Lily. The action caused fear to start a rapid drum in his chest, and his fingertips tingled as blood rushed to his brain, causing a soft ringing in his ears. He hadn’t heard the tale until just a moment ago, but his gut couldn’t help but suggest going back. He had knocked, it could be summed up to ding-dong-ditch. A child’s prank for a child’s tale, he told himself.

For a moment he heard nothing but the ringing in his ears and the thumping of his heart as he tried to find his feet under him again, until a lock snapped seemingly louder than it should of in the doorframe, causing him to jump. He managed to turn and face his friends, but they were nowhere in sight. The air from inside the cabin softly kissed the hairs on his neck and they stood at attention which sent a chill across his tightening shoulders as he turned to face the now open doorway.

The man that opened the door stood disheveled and impatient, waiting for the stunned stranger before him to explain his unexpected arrival. Ethan, lame on the porch, continued to stare at the man as he took everything in.

The man was not hunched, in fact, he was not even elderly. He had a salt and pepper look to his hair that signified age, but he was hardly old enough to be from The Bowed Man tale. The dark circles under his piercing green eyes, and the small glass cup with a thin line of amber liquid at the end of his arm hanging limply at his side, told a different tale. He wore a white button up shirt that was lose at the neck and unpulled from his pant line. He resembled an office worker, or a lawyer, Ethan thought. But his unkempt hair and soft stubble suggested he had been in the cabin for at least a couple of days, and the longer Ethan stared, the more the man’s face turned into an annoyed frown.

“Listen kid, one day when you’re older- and hopefully this doesn’t happen to you- but if you end up having to put your deceased fathers’ affairs in order because your mother is rotting away from illness, you’ll understand my lack of respect for some neighborhood boy who had to try and get one last peek at the man who hid himself away to get away from the town that destroyed his reputation, and ultimately his life,” the man said in a sloppy voice that was deep, but hoarse as if he had been smoking a lot recently. From the tobacco smell that tickled Ethans senses, he believed he had been.

“Go home before I call the police for trespass kid, you’re not welcome here.” And with that, the man turned and kicked the door closed behind him. As it slammed shut, Ethan was freed from his frozen state, and although that feeling of fear no longer rested heavily on his chest, he ran.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

After making it this far, I hope you'll consider tapping the heart ❤ and leaving your thoughts 🙏

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~