wild eyed willy
New member
It seems as though the craziest things happen around here. Sometimes I think I live at ground zero in weirdsville USA. Let me give you an example of what I mean. Most people have the usual insect problems around their homes, like mosquito’s and house flies that show up from time to time, an occasional bees nest to deal with. Not here!! I had a grass hopper epidemic in my yard last week.
It seems that there was a curse put on my property by an old gypsy woman many years ago. One day during the time that the original owners lived in this house there was a band of gypsy’s who traveled into town. They were just passing through on there way to Georgia, tired from traveling; they decided to stop for a rest before moving on.
Back in those days there was an open field across the street from my house. The leader of the gypsy’s came over to the house which at the time belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Cotton and inquired if they might camp in the field for a night or two. Mrs. Cotton who answered the door gave them permission to stay expecting that her husband, who was at work, would have no objections.
The gypsies’s set up camp that afternoon and were eating some chickens that had been given to them by Mrs. Cotton when Mr. Cotton returned home from work. Mr. Cotton had no objection to them staying in the field and as a matter of fact he said it might be nice to have neighbors for a night or two most of the time it is pretty quiet up here on this hill.
All was very quiet as evening drew near MR. and Mrs. Cotton had gone over and were visiting there new guests and the conversation was lively. About 9:30 the Cottons said good night and headed back across the road to go to bed.
About midnight a single coyote howl set in motion a chain of events that would alter the lives of all of the people on this hill that night.
The howl was answered by another male coyote that was just getting ready to raid Mr. Cotton’s chicken coop. His return howl scared a badger who was actually inside the coop already to pluck himself a juicy looking morsel for a midnight snack. The Badger leaped into the shadows in the corner of the coop to hide, when he did, he landed on the tines of a rake that had been leaned there. The badger let out a shriek of pain as one of the tines from the rake pierced his paw.
The Badgers shriek of pain woke up the chickens that promptly started raising a commotion. It also startled the coyote that was now, just outside the door. Never having heard a sound like the one the badger let out, the coyote started barking, because he had no idea what was inside the chicken coup about to get him.
The badger was shrieking, the chickens were squawking, the rooster was crowing and the coyote was barking and all the commotion was waking up Mr. Cotton from his restful nights sleep. The Badger now scared and in pain pulled his paw off of the tine and dashed right at the door of the coop and crashed through it. Out in the open the coyote spotted him and immediately gave chase. The rooster sworn to protect his hens joined the chase hot on the coyote’s tail. The chickens still in a tizzy ran out into the night just a flapping and a squawking like the devil himself was coming over for 25 cent hot wing night.
The three legged badger was running around in circles followed by the coyote and the rooster, weaving in and out through the chicken pandemonium as Mr. Cotton came out the door shotgun in hand, wearing just his long johns and a frown. Running towards the ruckus in the dark MR. Cotton stubbed his toe on the rock in the yard and began hopping around on one foot as he held the injured one in his empty hand.
Just then the badger headed right towards MR. Cotton who by this time had gotten turned around still holding on to his foot. The badger was looking backwards at the coyote that was quickly closing the gap that meant life or death for him and ran right into MR. Cottons one good leg sending him to the ground. The shotgun went of as it hit the ground with its owner, while the badger and his pursuers ran off into the night.
Naturally all of the noise traveled across the road and most of the camp was up by now and outside looking into the night to see what form of demon had descended upon them this night. The wayward shot that discharged from the gun screamed its way across the street and right through the grand mother gypsy woman’s new dress that had been hanging on a hook near by. The bullet ripped the dress to shreds and exited through the tent wall into the woods, but not before knocking over a candle and setting one of the wagons a blaze. The flames scared the horses that were still harnessed to the wagon and they promptly took off at a run heading for the road. Down the hill the horses ran, wagon in tow with flames blazing larger as they consumed the dry wood of the wagon while being fanned by the air rushing by.
Some of the gypsy’s party scrambled for their horses to give chase to the rolling inferno which by now had gone off the road at the bottom of the hill and had set the woods on fire. In the excitement one of the riders had missed a rope that was tethered to one of the tents. As was their practice the gypsy’s tied ropes from one tent to another to hang wash out to dry so when the rider sped off on his mount all of the tents came crashing down like dominos.
People were scattered everywhere as the whip of tents and laundry raced through what was left of the campsite and headed down the hill behind the horse it was attached to.
By this time Mr. Cotton had managed to crawl into the house and he and Mrs. Cotton were tending to his bleeding toe and a broken leg he received as a result of his close encounter with the three legged badger in the critter parade completely unaware of the fiasco transpiring across the street.
The smoke and flames from the burning woods were spotted by some local town’s people and the fire department was dispatched to the scene. The fireman with the help of the gypsy men on the scene were able to extinguish the fire quickly and recover what was left of the burnt wagon.
The old grand mother gypsy woman had no idea nor did the rest of them what had transpired across the street earlier that night, all they knew was there was a crazy man across the street shouting obscenities and shooting at them.
The gypsy’s packed up what was left of their scattered and tattered belongings loaded there wagons and tended to their wounded as they rumbled out of town.
Next morning as the sun rose up in the sky Mrs. Cotton stepped outside into the yard. As she looked around, she could see chicken feathers covering the ground, there in the yard was the broken door from the coop. The chickens or at least most of them were pecking at what ever chickens peck at on the ground. As she turned towards the road she could see the empty field where the gypsy’s had made camp the day before. The ground had been torn up and shreds of clothing muddy and torn were strewn about as though some ones clothes line had exploded. As she turned to look down the hill a single plume of thin smoke rose up from some embers left still hot in the charred woods at the bottom of the hill. There on the fence post near the walkway leading to the road was a note held in place with a hunting knife, It read ( I have lived for eighty and three years and in that time I have never been treated so poorly as this night. For every sunrise on this day of my life you shall pay for this crime upon myself and my family. A curse I set upon this land, let a plague beset its borders, let the demons have there say and choose the type of soldiers.
The legend goes that every year a plague of some sort will descend on my property. This might explain why I had like nine million grasshoppers in my back yard the other day or it could just be a coincidence, I really don’t know for sure. I did however think I remember hearing a coyote howl the night before. Oh well no harm done, I really didn’t want to rake leaves this year any way. Just one more note to the story, it seems there were rumors of tracks from a three legged badger that could be found around town for many years after and the rooster was never seen or heard from again.
It seems that there was a curse put on my property by an old gypsy woman many years ago. One day during the time that the original owners lived in this house there was a band of gypsy’s who traveled into town. They were just passing through on there way to Georgia, tired from traveling; they decided to stop for a rest before moving on.
Back in those days there was an open field across the street from my house. The leader of the gypsy’s came over to the house which at the time belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Cotton and inquired if they might camp in the field for a night or two. Mrs. Cotton who answered the door gave them permission to stay expecting that her husband, who was at work, would have no objections.
The gypsies’s set up camp that afternoon and were eating some chickens that had been given to them by Mrs. Cotton when Mr. Cotton returned home from work. Mr. Cotton had no objection to them staying in the field and as a matter of fact he said it might be nice to have neighbors for a night or two most of the time it is pretty quiet up here on this hill.
All was very quiet as evening drew near MR. and Mrs. Cotton had gone over and were visiting there new guests and the conversation was lively. About 9:30 the Cottons said good night and headed back across the road to go to bed.
About midnight a single coyote howl set in motion a chain of events that would alter the lives of all of the people on this hill that night.
The howl was answered by another male coyote that was just getting ready to raid Mr. Cotton’s chicken coop. His return howl scared a badger who was actually inside the coop already to pluck himself a juicy looking morsel for a midnight snack. The Badger leaped into the shadows in the corner of the coop to hide, when he did, he landed on the tines of a rake that had been leaned there. The badger let out a shriek of pain as one of the tines from the rake pierced his paw.
The Badgers shriek of pain woke up the chickens that promptly started raising a commotion. It also startled the coyote that was now, just outside the door. Never having heard a sound like the one the badger let out, the coyote started barking, because he had no idea what was inside the chicken coup about to get him.
The badger was shrieking, the chickens were squawking, the rooster was crowing and the coyote was barking and all the commotion was waking up Mr. Cotton from his restful nights sleep. The Badger now scared and in pain pulled his paw off of the tine and dashed right at the door of the coop and crashed through it. Out in the open the coyote spotted him and immediately gave chase. The rooster sworn to protect his hens joined the chase hot on the coyote’s tail. The chickens still in a tizzy ran out into the night just a flapping and a squawking like the devil himself was coming over for 25 cent hot wing night.
The three legged badger was running around in circles followed by the coyote and the rooster, weaving in and out through the chicken pandemonium as Mr. Cotton came out the door shotgun in hand, wearing just his long johns and a frown. Running towards the ruckus in the dark MR. Cotton stubbed his toe on the rock in the yard and began hopping around on one foot as he held the injured one in his empty hand.
Just then the badger headed right towards MR. Cotton who by this time had gotten turned around still holding on to his foot. The badger was looking backwards at the coyote that was quickly closing the gap that meant life or death for him and ran right into MR. Cottons one good leg sending him to the ground. The shotgun went of as it hit the ground with its owner, while the badger and his pursuers ran off into the night.
Naturally all of the noise traveled across the road and most of the camp was up by now and outside looking into the night to see what form of demon had descended upon them this night. The wayward shot that discharged from the gun screamed its way across the street and right through the grand mother gypsy woman’s new dress that had been hanging on a hook near by. The bullet ripped the dress to shreds and exited through the tent wall into the woods, but not before knocking over a candle and setting one of the wagons a blaze. The flames scared the horses that were still harnessed to the wagon and they promptly took off at a run heading for the road. Down the hill the horses ran, wagon in tow with flames blazing larger as they consumed the dry wood of the wagon while being fanned by the air rushing by.
Some of the gypsy’s party scrambled for their horses to give chase to the rolling inferno which by now had gone off the road at the bottom of the hill and had set the woods on fire. In the excitement one of the riders had missed a rope that was tethered to one of the tents. As was their practice the gypsy’s tied ropes from one tent to another to hang wash out to dry so when the rider sped off on his mount all of the tents came crashing down like dominos.
People were scattered everywhere as the whip of tents and laundry raced through what was left of the campsite and headed down the hill behind the horse it was attached to.
By this time Mr. Cotton had managed to crawl into the house and he and Mrs. Cotton were tending to his bleeding toe and a broken leg he received as a result of his close encounter with the three legged badger in the critter parade completely unaware of the fiasco transpiring across the street.
The smoke and flames from the burning woods were spotted by some local town’s people and the fire department was dispatched to the scene. The fireman with the help of the gypsy men on the scene were able to extinguish the fire quickly and recover what was left of the burnt wagon.
The old grand mother gypsy woman had no idea nor did the rest of them what had transpired across the street earlier that night, all they knew was there was a crazy man across the street shouting obscenities and shooting at them.
The gypsy’s packed up what was left of their scattered and tattered belongings loaded there wagons and tended to their wounded as they rumbled out of town.
Next morning as the sun rose up in the sky Mrs. Cotton stepped outside into the yard. As she looked around, she could see chicken feathers covering the ground, there in the yard was the broken door from the coop. The chickens or at least most of them were pecking at what ever chickens peck at on the ground. As she turned towards the road she could see the empty field where the gypsy’s had made camp the day before. The ground had been torn up and shreds of clothing muddy and torn were strewn about as though some ones clothes line had exploded. As she turned to look down the hill a single plume of thin smoke rose up from some embers left still hot in the charred woods at the bottom of the hill. There on the fence post near the walkway leading to the road was a note held in place with a hunting knife, It read ( I have lived for eighty and three years and in that time I have never been treated so poorly as this night. For every sunrise on this day of my life you shall pay for this crime upon myself and my family. A curse I set upon this land, let a plague beset its borders, let the demons have there say and choose the type of soldiers.
The legend goes that every year a plague of some sort will descend on my property. This might explain why I had like nine million grasshoppers in my back yard the other day or it could just be a coincidence, I really don’t know for sure. I did however think I remember hearing a coyote howl the night before. Oh well no harm done, I really didn’t want to rake leaves this year any way. Just one more note to the story, it seems there were rumors of tracks from a three legged badger that could be found around town for many years after and the rooster was never seen or heard from again.
