4Mr. Burns stared proudly at his new home as he pulled up the long gravel drive. "There she is!" he exclaimed, rousing the interest of his wife and daughter. They sat up in their seats, wiping sleep from their eyes and inspecting the building for the first time. It was a middle-sized house, two stories tall with weathered old wooden shingles for siding. The yard, which stretched out on the front and side of the house, was large, and Mr. Burns could sense that his seven-year-old daughter was already sizing it up to see where her new playset would go.
On the remaining two sides of the house, and for miles in every direction, crept the dense foliage and massive trunks of tall pine trees. The house was one of ten at most that had been built in the Suskahwa valley. The valley, some 15 square miles in area, was surrounded by tall, jagged mountains which seemed either to protect or entrap all life within.
The beat-up old Buick rolled to a stop and its weary passengers were relieved to climb out and stretch. By nightfall they had finished most of their unpacking, for they had brought as little as possible with them. The previous owners of the home had left their old refrigerator and some other furniture behind when they moved to the city, and when Mrs. Burns opened the ice box to see what condition it was in, she was thrilled to find a delicious-looking cheesecake sitting inside. Attached was a note which read:
Hello Burns family! Welcome to the neighborhood! We live about 1/2 mile down the road, don't hesitate to come pay us a visit anytime!
-Your Neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Lando
Two days later, after the family had become sufficiently settled in, the Burns decided to take their neighbors up on their offer. They all got in the car, even their huge German shepherd, and took a ride up to the Lando residence. They knocked on the front door of the house, which was very similar to their own, and within a few moments a short, middle-aged woman with a warm face and huge glasses answered.
"Oh, why hello there!" she exclaimed, "It's so nice to finally meet you! Won't you please come in?"
They greeted each other, making small talk about this and that as they all sat down in her modest living room. Mr. Burns soon grew tired of the ladies' chatting, and asked politely where Mr. Lando might be.
"Oh, the old coot's outside on the porch, staring like a crazy man at those dumb animals." Reading his confused expression, she explained, "The moose. We've got tons of them here. Nothing else really, just moose. He's gone nearly batty, I think he believes they're up to voodoo!" She giggled hysterically, big smile lines creasing up her face.
Thinking that any male company would be preferable to the current topic at hand of teacups and cheesecakes, Mr. Burns excused himself and found his way to the patio to meet Mr. Lando. Sure enough, there he was, sitting in a rigid black chair, leaning forward on his knees perceptively. At his side was a long-barreled rifle, positioned as though it might be needed at a moment's notice. The man was tall, lean-looking, with bright bronze-colored eyes and a knowing expression on his face. As Mr. Burns approached him, Mr. Lando set his guarding aside to greet his guest warmly and invite him to sit down.
"My wife probably told you all about me," He said with a smile, gesturing toward his rifle, then at the woods in front of him. "She thinks I've gone bats, bless her soul. But I'll tell you, the things that go on in this valley are not normal by any standards." He continued to stare warily out toward the trees.
Mr. Burns followed his gaze, and noticed for the first time that there was a large brown animal standing quietly near the corner of the yard. It stood about nine feet tall, about ten in length, its bulky chest and huge antlers tapering down to a rigid nose that curved downward like a strung bow.
"My God, that's the biggest moose I've ever seen!" exclaimed Burns. Mr. Lando nodded gravely. "You ever seen a moose stand so perfectly still? Not a twitch, not a flick of the tail. Only his ears move, taking in everything around him. He's been standin there a full three hours now. Did the same thing yesterday, a little further toward the road. Like he's watching something."
Mr. Burns grinned critically. "You're saying you think this deer is spyin' on you?" He tried not to laugh.
Lando did not flinch at the sarcasm. "Let me tell you a little about this valley. It was once the home of a tribe of about 300 Suskahwa Indians. Legend has it that when the white men first came to take over the valley, the tribe's chief went crazy. After being mortally wounded in battle, he called upon the tribe's guardian animal, the moose, to protect the valley and to seek revenge on all the white men for what they had done to his people.
"The white settlers won the valley, but within a year, all the animals that had lived here left. except for the moose. It's said that it was around that time that they first wore the red thorns."
"Red thorns?" Mr. Burns looked again at the moose. Sure enough, up on its face beneath its eyes and nose were patches of bare, reddened skin, shaped much like thorns pointing down toward the earth.
"Every few years, for some reason, almost everyone in the valley is compelled to move elsewhere. They always get very quiet, like they don't want to talk about something. And then they're gone, and within a few years a whole lot of newcomers move in, never questioning the motives their predecessors had in leaving. I heard this story, and decided to come here myself to check it out.
"I think it has something to do with the moose. They must be linked in some way. There must be some reason that no other animals except plants care to remain here. And I think it's because those moose aren't natural. They're too big, too focused. I hardly see them graze. I just see them stare. Particularly at me."
"Staring?" asked Burns. "Its looking off to your right."
"No, my friend. It's facing off to the right. Moose have a very interesting anatomy. Their heads are very large, and their eyes are set deep into their skulls, so that it is difficult for them to see straight ahead. However, as their eyes are extremely large and set into the sides of their heads, they can see a good 20-30 degrees further peripherally than humans to the side and behind. As you can see, the side of that animal's face is toward us. Meaning, it is staring directly at us."
Burns felt a strange shiver run up his spine, like a finger of ice, as he realized the truth of Lando's assessment. Trying to ignore the now- obvious and unflinching gaze of the animal, he groped for a change in subject. "So, I see you like to hunt?" he asked, gesturing toward the rifle.
"Aye, I used to. Haven't used that thing since I came here though."
Burns stared, astonished. "Well I'm a bit of a hunter myself, and I can't imagine coming to a place like this and not bringing home king-sized venison for my family. Moose are difficult to hunt, and here they're concentrated all in one place."
"Oh, no. You don't want to shoot these moose. There are strange stories around about those that tried it, and they sure aren't around to tell them."
Burns just raised his shoulders, doubtful of the man's theory. As he did so, his dog, bored of being petted by his daughter, poked its nose lazily into the screen door and sauntered out to lie beside his master.
Lando grunted disapprovingly as he saw the animal. "You've got a dog?"
"Yup. Cat too. Wife loves it more than me, I think," he said with a grin.
Lando didn't grin back. "You shouldn't have brought a mutt up here. All animals that come here don't act much like themselves afterwards. And they don't stick around for long when you stay."
Burns looked down at his dog, who sat grinning his canine grin, huge tongue hanging out over large white teeth. "Nah. Can't leave my dog. Best friend and all," he said, patting the animal on the head.
About a week later, Mr. Burns slept in until noon. He climbed groggily from his bed and walked over to his window. Outside in the yard, his daughter was swinging forward and back on her newly erected swingset. But nearby, he noticed a tall brown body silently watching his daughter, and him as well. It had watched him the whole time he built the swingset, quietly staring from a modest distance. He had tried to accept the animal's presence, but the eeriness got to him after a while. More than once he considered shooting it, but superstition forced him to fear the possible consequences, and he allowed it to remain. He didn't like the thought of his daughter outside alone with it, so he began to put on some clothes. He decided that the whole swingset had been well worth the work, considering how much she seemed to be enjoying it. His pride was interrupted by his wife's alarmed voice calling him from down the stairs.
"Honey? Have you seen the cat? She didn't eat her food last night, I don't know where she could have gone?"
"Don't worry, honey, I'm sure she just ran off. She'll come back," he said patiently. Along with my allergies, he thought to himself.
But she had already come up the stairs. There were tears in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shirt. "No, she's gone. She never ran away before. She'll never come back."
He was about to protest when he remembered Mr. Lando's story. Perhaps she was right. The cat would not return to this valley. It had decided it was time to leave. But what could have convinced it to abandon a warm, loving home? He shuddered at the grim mystery. According to legend, whatever had scared the cat away would eventually present itself to him, and force him to leave like the others had. It was just a matter of time.
He tried to comfort his wife, but was distracted by strange sounds coming from outside. He crossed back to the window and looked out. The swingset was empty. There, holding onto the huge golden antlers, was her daughter, riding upon the moose's head. The animal seemed to be imitating the motion of the swing, slowly and eerily swinging its massive head up and down, never taking its eyes off of Mr. Burns. His daughter cheered and giggled, having a ball as she rode between its antlers. But Mr. Burns was far from comfortable with the animal's contact with his daughter.
"Good GOD!" he screamed. "Rebecca, GET DOWN NOW!"
"Look daddy! I'm riding on the bear!"
"No, Rebecca, make the bear put you down."
"I don't want to get down, Daddy!"
Mr. Burns threw on his clothes and rushed outside, panic-stricken. "That's a dangerous animal! Get down!" he called as he ran over to her, trying to ignore the unblinking, dark gaze that never left him. He stood in front of the moose, reaching up for his daughter's hands. The animal turned about 20 degrees to the left. Frustrated, Burns turned with it. It turned to the left again. He chased it slowly in a circle. Then, he finally remembered that it couldn't see directly in front of itself. My God, it really is staring at me. It won't even let me out of its sight.
Trying to be bold, he took hold of one of the animal's ears and pulled on its head downward. It tossed its head in irritation, almost dislodging Rebecca, who screamed and yelped, "Daddy!" It walked slowly away from him about ten feet, then placed her down on the ground. She ran over to him and grabbed his leg. The moose stood once more in silence, resuming its grim stare.
He was distracted yet again by a scream from inside. It was his wife. "Help! The dog's gone mad!"
He ran into the house, leaving his daughter outside the door. He heard snarling and growling in the kitchen, and rushed in to see what was happening. His huge German shepherd stood poised to attack, teeth bared at Mrs. Burns. She was trapped in the corner between the refrigerator and the cupboard, holding a kitchen knife defensively toward the snarling animal. A painful-looking bite dripped warm blood from her thigh and down her leg, into her shoes. "What in the world?" he gasped as he took in the sight. "Hey, Tips!" he called to the dog hopefully, "Come here, boy! Down, boy! That's a good boy!"
The dog seemed to regain control of itself. He shook himself off, let his tongue hang out, and walked to his side. But the crazed glint still shone in the corner of his eye. This dog is losing it too. He won't be tame for much longer, Burns thought to himself. It's as though he saw her as an attacker. What could warp his mind so badly that he could hallucinate my wife into an enemy?
The next day, the Burns caged their German shepherd, ready to take him to the vet to see what was wrong. However, while they were bringing him out to the car, he threw a wild fit, breaking loose from the cage and running off into the woods. Mrs. Burns feared he would be dangerous on the loose. Mr. Burns knew his former pet would not stick around long enough to give anyone any trouble.
After that day, he lived his life in a tense compulsion. He wanted to leave, to pack up his things and his family, but he was compelled by curiosity to remain. What would happen if he stayed? He spent many days watching the moose who most often watched him, like a spy from a covert organization. On late nights, it was like a challenge to see which of them would nod off first, which could watch for the longest. Most often, the moose would outwatch him, and Burns would awaken to find the beast in the same place, still watching.
So it was that on one night, Mr. Burns sat reclined in his chair, dozing in a half-sitting position, on his front porch. The moose stood stock still, watching him from 20 yards away. Rebecca, hungry for a midnight snack, had climbed out of bed and come downstairs. Seeing her father sitting outside, she snuck out to see what he was up to. It was then that she noticed the moose across the yard. She called out to it quietly, mixing up its name as usual. "Bear!" She held out her hands toward it.
The moose raised its head calmly as if it had known she would come. Then its huge skull lowered just below the level of its shoulderblades, a feral glow emanating from large blacks eyes. The blood-red scars beneath its eyes blackened as the large animal slowly, purposefully came directly toward the child. Even in her innocent child's heart, Rebecca could sense that there was something unnatural, even evil, about the moose this night. But she did not believe that this fun playmate could hurt her, so she stood tensely with arms still outstretched as it approached her. When they were nose to nose, it suddenly swung its head down and scooped her up into its mighty antlers. She yelped, then positioned herself so that she would not fall off. "Silly bear" she said.
Slowly, the moose began to swing her up and down, easily arching its sleek, powerful neck. The movement was gentle at first, but little by little it became more violent. The child's face changed from giddiness to concern to fear to pain as she held on for dear life. She screamed aloud for her father. Mr. Burns woke with a start and found his daughter prisoner to the mighty antlers. It was not swinging up and down anymore, but retching in a wild circular motion. He thought quickly and ran inside for his rifle. When he came back out, he was just in time to see his daughter thrown to the ground. The moose was still retching and twisting, pounding its hooves and flailing its huge legs.
Mr. Burns feared for his daughter, whom he could not see in the darkness. He knew she must be underfoot somewhere, perhaps being trampled at that very moment. His finger found the trigger, his eye the scope, and the shot echoed with menacing finality throughout the valley. The moose screamed in pain; a wild, crazed, unnatural howl. He howled over and over again, still kicking and pounding more wildly. It felt the sting of another shot, and another, and one more. Finally, the huge beast fell dead to the ground.
In the middle of the torn earth, a pale form lay still on the ground. Mr. Burns knew that he was too late. His eyes stung as he lifted his daughter's lifeless body into his arms and carried her inside. He set her down gently on the kitchen table and fumbled for the light switch. When the light revealed his daughter's face, he uttered a terrified scream. Beneath her eyes and on either side of her nose were long, crimson scars shaped like thorns. Although they searched her body, they could not find a single wound that might have caused the child's death. That night, the valley echoed with the unearthly screams of the dead moose's kin, and the heartbroken cries of a mother- and father-no-more.
The next morning, Mr. Lando arrived early to speak to Mr. Burns. He, like everyone in the valley, had heard the shots, heard the terrible cries of the great deer. The whole valley had become covered in a dense rolling fog which choked the normally beautiful landscape. The two men sat beside one another, staring out into the fog, both deep in thought.
"The big one that's usually in my yard isn't there today." Mr. Lando finally said.
"Do you think they've all gone?"
"Don't know. We'll find out soon enough.
"I've got to get out of this valley, friend." Burns said wearily.
"Aye. Perhaps it's finally your time."
"What about you?"
"Eh, I'll stick around a bit more. I still don't understand what I came to learn."
The two friends said their goodbyes, and Burns notified his wife that they would be leaving the next morning. They spent the rest of the day packing their things in grim silence. They were both thinking the same thing. Maybe we should just leave tonight. We'll send someone for everything later. But they decided to take the practical approach. They would take the necessary time to pack, then leave the next day. And they would never return.
That night, the room felt especially cold as husband and wife lay together sleeplessly, holding one another for comfort. It was around midnight when the howling started up again. Bloodcurdling, unnatural moans and wails came forth from all over the valley as the moose mourned their loss, or perhaps celebrated the loss that the Burns now faced. The couple held one another tightly, trying to ignore the sound which grew louder and louder outside their window. From the bed, Mr. Burns tried to see out the window and into the area beyond, but the thick fog still hung in the air, and beyond a few yards, the world became a gray swirl. They could hear the screams still growing louder and closer, as though all the moose in the valley were converging on their one location. Their bed sat across the room from the window, their feet facing the swirling fog. All at once, the screaming stopped. The world was silent and still. Too still. The two sat up in their bed, staring out the window, fear gripping their hearts.
A thunderous, roaring wail came through the room as the window suddenly shattered explosively into the threshold. Fog swirled in as the deformed, mutilated, ghastly head of the moose Burns had shot forced itself rowdily through the frame. Mr. Burns grabbed his screaming wife by the arm, pulling her up from the bed where she sat frozen in fear. The moose rammed and swung violently against the side of the house, and the wall began to weaken and crack. The screams of all the other moose joined in once more in a horrible chorus. They were right outside, all around the house. Surrounded.
Mr. and Mrs. Burns ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, where they could still hear the screaming from directly above them. It stopped for a moment, and Mrs. Burns stared dreadingly out the huge picture window of the kitchen while Mr. Burns got his keys and his rifle. A pale, terrible form floated slowly down amidst swirls of fog to hover just outside the window. The beast turned his head slowly sideways to see the mortified expression on Mrs. Burns' face. An evil grin seemed to spread across its muzzle before it suddenly thrashed against the kitchen window.
The monster managed to squeeze its entire neck and chest through the shattered orifice, but was having difficulty working the rest of its body through the opening. Its lips curled back from rotted teeth, wild eyes searching for Mrs. Burns. She was gone.
Mr. and Mrs. Burns ran as fast as they could for the Buick. The moose quickly saw them, and they began to push closer and closer around the couple as they unlocked the car and slammed the doors. Mrs. Burns slammed the gas, while Mr. Burns aimed his rifle out the window and shot at those animals that were closest to them. It was hard to concentrate on these targets, however, when he could see the heaving form of the moose phantom half-embedded in the wall of their home. As he watched, it pulled itself free, spinning around with impossible speed. Soon the moose caught sight of him as well, and it began a full-blown charge straight for their car, head lowered and eyes glowing demonically.
The old Buick barely accelerated in time to escape the monster, who managed to rack his antlers several times on the trunk of the car. Its cohorts followed them as well, trying to cut them off at every leg of the journey out of the valley. Mrs. Burns swerved and maneuvered, avoiding collision with the enormous beasts, until they finally made it over the jagged peaks that marked the edge of the valley.
Rebecca Burns was buried in a small church cemetery in upstate New York. Her body was not put on display. Her parents explained to all those who attended that their daughter had been mangled by a bear while camping in the mountains. The story was at least partially true. To this day, the violent scrapes down the back of their trunk remain a mystery, even to their closest friends. They recently purchased a small apartment in New York City, and are expecting a young boy in four and a half months. They will move into their new home on Thursday, after they are finished attending the funeral for one Mr. Jacob Lando. His gruesome death remains a mystery to the public. All Mr. and Mrs. Burns know is that Lando, unfortunately, was not so lucky as they.