The Wildman of Shaggy Creek: FRIGHTLAND, #1

By R. H. Grimly

Something lives in the woods behind Scott's new house. It's big, it's hairy, and it smells worse than a dead skunk in the rain. When Scott accepts a dare to camp in the woods all night, Hailey is the only friend who will help him. But Scott doesn't really believe in the creature lurking along Shaggy Creek—it's just a story, right?

The Wildman of Shaggy Creek is the first book in the FRIGHTLAND series, chilling tales of terror for kids of all ages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barde Press
• Release date: Jan 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201260910

Book preview

The Wildman of Shaggy Creek

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FRIGHTLAND #1

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by R.H. Grimly

Copyright © 2021 R.H. Grimly

Published by Barde Press

All rights reserved

Cover art by Tim Jacobus

Interior illustrations by David Romero

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For Eli

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Table of Contents

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Illustration by David Romero

1

It was raining again. I stood on the back porch holding a plate of leftover dinner scraps, staring into the dark woods behind our new house. The porch light barely reached the edge of the yard, and the woods beyond were black. The rain bounced on the wet grass, and I could hear it hitting both our roof and the leaves of the trees.

And there was the smell again. That awful, sickening smell, like a skunk mixed with a dead animal.

I dumped my table scraps into the garbage bin and put the lid back on. Turning to go inside, I heard the sound again: a long, terrifying wail coming from the woods. I looked over my shoulder through the rain at the dark forms of the trees at the edge of the woods. The Shaggy Creek Woods at night scared me.

The wail came again. More distant this time.

But the smell lingered.

There was something in those woods. And I was going to find out what.

When we moved to Georgia, it was late August and the school year had already been going a couple weeks. Mom had suddenly gotten a new job, and before I knew it we were packing the car and headed out across the country. Dad loves adventure and was one hundred percent okay with this.

I barely had time to tell my friends goodbye.

Scott, said Dad dramatically with his hand on my shoulder, half the fun in life is trying new things. Meeting new people.

I guess so.

The neighborhood in Georgia had a lot fewer houses than our last neighborhood. And a lot more trees. And no sidewalk. Just a winding lane with lots of trees.

It was a late afternoon when Dad parked the car on the crumbling driveway in front of the new house and jumped out to open our new front door. I saw him fiddle with the lock a bit before it opened, and he disappeared inside. Mom stepped out of the car to stretch her legs, then put her brown hair in a tight bun.

I stayed in the car, looking at the old flip phone my parents gave me. They don’t believe twelve-year-olds need cell phones in the first place, so I was lucky to have a phone at all.

No texts.

I saw the garage door opening. Dad ducked under the slow moving door, jogged to the car, and he and Mom began undoing straps around stuff they’d tied to the top of the car. Mostly Dad’s camping gear. He figured it’d be useful since the moving truck wouldn’t be there for a couple more days.

Ha, I thought, like I’m going to sleep in a tent...

I tucked my phone into my pocket and climbed out of the back seat, carrying my backpack and a small suitcase with my stuff from the car. I squinted in the sunlight and glanced around. From where we were, you really couldn’t see any of the neighbor’s houses. They were all obscured by trees and bushes. It seemed really quiet. And the air was humid.

I walked over to the front door of our new house and pushed it open. The door creaked on its hinges. The room inside was bright but empty. Not even a chair to sit on. I could see another empty room with a glass sliding door that led to the backyard. And past that, more trees.

I dropped my bags and went back outside to the front. Mom was carrying some boxes to the garage, while Dad was pulling things from the small moving trailer hitched to the car. More camping gear.

Dad leads adventure camping tours during the summer. He goes to all sorts of places, like Alaska and the Canadian Rockies, backpacking for weeks in the wilderness. Then when the season is over, he comes home and dinks around until Mom makes him shave his black beard. He still has this year’s beard... for now.

Mom’s a veterinarian. She’ll treat dogs and cats but loves helping wild animals most. Like deer or foxes that get hit by cars and stuff. That’s why she took this job; it was a clinic that treats pets and animals from a national forest area. And it paid more. Dad says, She’s the boss.

I sat down in the grass for a minute before realizing it was full of ants, so I jumped back up and swatted them off my jeans.

Hey Scotty, called Mom. She and Dad were taking a mattress they pulled from the trailer into the garage. Are you going to help unpack?

I nodded. Walking over to the car, I pulled up the rear hatch and looked at the pile of stuff. I grabbed the tent case, hoisted it out of the car, and carried it toward the garage.

That’s when I noticed a group of kids on bikes riding down the road. They saw me and stopped at the edge of the driveway.

Hey, are you moving in here? asked a boy older than me with shaggy hair.

Yeah, I replied, letting the tent rest on the driveway.

What’s your name? said another who looked my age.

Scott, I said.

I’m Zach, said the older boy.

Brent, said the second.

Did you just get here? asked a girl with long, dark hair.

Yeah, about ten minutes ago.

She nodded, then leaned over to whisper something to another girl with shorter sandy hair.

Cool, said Zach, eyeing the house for a moment. So, we’re going on a ride. Wanna come?

I don’t have a bike, I said.

You don’t have a bike? asked Brent, surprised.

I shook my head. I used to have one, but I got too big for it.

The dark-haired girl laughed. Zach looked at the other kids, then back to me. Well, that’s too bad, said Zach. We go everywhere on bikes here.

I felt my pocket buzzing and pulled out my phone. It was a