Nightmare Fuel #25: Ezra & The Dark Watcher
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I'm sorry.

Welcome to another edition of Nightmare Fuel, creeps and peepers. I'm Dan Cummins, and I'll be sharing another original short story of the fictional horror variety. It's not entirely necessary, but if you want a bit extra out of today's episode, go back and listen to Nightmare Fuel 3, The Beast of Bodhi, and also Nightmare Fuel 11, Sometimes the Darkness Wins Too. But again, that's just to get a bit more out of a few moments today. I think this episode also works just fine by itself.

I highly recommend noise cancellation headphones for the ultimate experience. Hope you enjoy this new nightmare. Time now for the tale of Ezra and the Dark Watcher. August 3rd, 1943, Bodie, California. Ten-year-old Ruth Harding, one of just a handful of kids still living in town, has been seen something. Something no one else believes she's been seen.

Something many have seen for centuries over 400 miles away along the coast in the Santa Lucia Mountains, in the mountains of Eastern Europe, and in various other mountainous locations all around the world. But something new to Bodie. A strange man. A very, very tall man has appeared above her, along the ridge behind her family's home in the Bodie Hills on the edge of town. She'd seen him on two separate occasions, the previous evening and the evening before that.

Just as the evening sun began to dip behind the mountains, although she'd only been able to make out his silhouette, she'd been able to tell that he was watching her as she gathered wildflowers to bring back home to her mother or to take to her grandparents. She'd been trying to cheer everyone up. Her mom had been sick with worry over her father, who was currently overseas in Northern Africa, battling his own forces of darkness in World War II. Her grandma Ida had been worried about her father as well,

Ruth missed him too, of course, but she hadn't felt worried. She'd felt absolutely certain that he'd be fine. Her dad was tough. She thought he was probably the toughest man in the whole wide world, or at the very least, the second toughest, next to his own father, her grandpa, Arthur. That was why she had wanted her grandpa to come with her, so he too could see the silhouette of the strange, dark man as well.

A man who said nothing when she'd asked him who he was, where he was from, or what he was doing. She'd started to wonder, what kind of man doesn't say anything back when you ask him a question? A man who stands and watches a little girl. A bad man, she decided. A scary man. And she'd wanted her tough grandpa to scare him away. She didn't want to ever see him on the ridge anymore. She didn't want to ever see him anywhere anymore.

Grandpa, he's real! Ruth protested after she finished eating her dinner of hamburger steak, gravy, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn with her Grandpa Arthur and her Grandma Ida. Her mom was working late again at the little roadside diner in Dogtown, or what used to be Dogtown. Now the diner where Highway 395 met Highway 270 was all that was left of Dogtown, outside of a bunch of abandoned old buildings. I don't doubt you saw something, Ruthie.

Arthur said dismissively as he took his last bite of potatoes. Potatoes he was annoyed he'd run out of gravy for. He'd been eyeing Ruth's plate, looking at all the extra gravy she'd taken for herself before he'd had a chance to fix his own meal. Gravy he knew she wasn't even going to eat. Grandpa, Ruth said in an exasperated tone. Arthur had grown accustomed to hearing this tone.

She was a pushy one, that kid. She leaned forward in her seat and gave him another little glimpse of the woman she'd grow up to be. As she then said in her most I'm serious grandpa tone, I know you don't believe me. I can tell you know when you're shining me on. Ida laughed at that. Try not to spit out any of her food as she commented. She's got your number, Art. Arthur Mock glared at his wife of nearly 40 years and unsuccessfully suppressed a little smile.

"'See?' giggled Ruth, her pigtails swinging back and forth as she shook her head. "'I knew it, Grandpa. Please. Just walk up and look with me. I know he'll be there, and then you'll believe me,' she pleaded. "'And I know he'll go away when you tell him to leave,' Arthur sighed. His legs were tired from a long day of being on his feet, working at the post office in Bridgeport, and he didn't love the idea of hoofing it all the way up the hill. But he loved spending time with his only granddaughter."

and it wasn't like he had a whole lot else planned for the evening. He could skip listening to Jack Benny on the radio for one night. Might be good to take a day off from hearing updates on the war that didn't look like it was going to end any time soon. He'd never suspected when he'd finished fighting a world war in Europe that his own son would have to do the same. "'Okay, kid,' he said to Ruth with a grin, giving her the green light. "'Let's head up after we eat a few slices of Grandma's apple pie, okay?'

"'Thank you, Grandpa!' Ruth exclaimed excitedly, grinning widely as she stood up from her seat and gave him a big hug before she added, "'Let's leave now, and then we can have the pie when we get back, okay?' Arthur laughed heartily at that. "'You're like a dog with the bone, aren't you? You just won't let it go.' Ruth smiled and laughed, rested her chin on her grandpa's arm and stared up at him hopefully. "'All right, let's go,' he conceded. Ida chuckled and said, as she stood up and started clearing the table,

"'Deny it all you want, Arthur Harding, but that girl has you wrapped around her little finger. I'll have your slices ready for you too when you get back.' Ruth and Arthur walked over near the front door, and he put on his jacket. Even though it was August, and it had been a warm summer's day, in Bodie there was always at least a little chill in the air by the time evening drew near. "'Hoo-wee! You hike up this far every time you come up here?'

Arthur asked his granddaughter, breathing heavily, once they'd made it atop a little nearly flat saddle about three-fourths the way up the hill. "'Are you sure you're not part goat?' he teased while his thighs burned with exhaustion, spending the last nearly thirty minutes walking along barely there deer trails, crisscrossing up the steep, grassy hill, and occasionally slipping in the loose, sandy soil.

"'This is where the best flowers are, Grandpa!' Ruth proudly proclaimed, not showing a hint of fatigue and not needing to suck in her air in raggedy bursts like Arthur either. "'See these purple ones over?' she started to say before her voice faltered. A moment later, she spoke in a scared whisper. "'Grandpa,' she said nervously as she pointed towards the top of the ridge. "'Look, there he is!'

Arthur tilted his head up and to the right, expecting to see nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped rock formation or some roughly man-sized patch of brush. Instead, he saw what reminded him of the illustrations of Wild West gunslingers that adorned the covers of dime-store Western novels he'd often read as a kid. How we damned, he muttered in disbelief as he put his hands on his hips, stood up straight, and continued to stare at the dark figure seemingly shadowed by the setting sun behind him.

He was tall, real tall. He could tell even at this distance. He was well over six feet. And it appeared that he was wearing a flat, wide-brimmed hat and a long black duster. Who the hell was this strange man? Arthur wondered. And then he noticed the man's eyes, and his blood ran cold. He immediately and terrifyingly realized he wasn't merely looking at the shadowy silhouette of a man. He was looking at a man somehow made out of shadows.

His eyes were white and hawk-like, and they appeared to be glowing, and that told him that this thing didn't appear dark because of the setting sun behind him. This thing was dark, and that meant that this thing was not a man. Ruthie, he said in a scared voice, speaking barely above a whisper, head back down. Ruth, as children so often are, was oblivious to the danger she was in.

Why don't you just tell him to leave, Grandpa? She innocently asked. Stop watching me and scaring me, she added, her voice revealing how she felt little to no concern about their safety. Now, Ruthie, Arthur said sternly. Ruth started to object. But Grandpa, you... God damn it, Ruthie, Arthur interrupted. Get your ass home this instant or I'll take off my belt and whoop your butt right here and now on this hill. Her grandfather's harsh words stung.

Tears immediately formed in Ruth's eyes. She'd heard stories about Grandpa Arthur whooping her dad when he was a kid, but he'd never spoken that way to her before. Not once. He'd always been so patient and gentle. She was nervous. Why was he acting like this? Go now! Run! Arthur yelled, never taking his eyes off the silent, dark watcher on the ridge above them.

Hearing the fear in her grandpa's voice, Ruth finally did as she was told. She'd never heard him sound scared like this before, and that terrified her. You stay away from my granddaughter, you demon! Arthur now yelled at the strange creature who stood no more than 150 yards away from them. And then his fear grew as the dark watcher started to move towards them.

Whatever this thing really was, it walked just like a man, standing up straight on two legs. But it marched down the hill in a way no man ever could. It didn't follow any path. It didn't zigzag down the steep, slippery slope, searching out the best spots to most confidently plant its feet. It didn't look to avoid putting its weight on any stones that might be loose and give way.

Instead, it moved at a surreal and steady pace, walking in a perfectly straight line directly towards Arthur, taking massive strides. It must have covered five or six feet at least, maybe more, with each step. And it walked so damn fast, faster than most men could run. Arthur watched mostly in fear, but also partially in awe. He simply couldn't comprehend how it never once slipped or stumbled, how it never seemed to consider how uneven the ground in front of it might be.

It walked as if it were strolling along a perfectly smooth, newly poured concrete sidewalk on flat and even ground. Never needing to worry about catching the edge of a crack or sinking into some weathered depression, Arthur wanted to turn and run. But if he ran towards home, he'd also be running towards Ruthie, and he wanted to buy her time to make it back. Besides, even if he ran as fast as he could, he knew this thing could catch him if it wanted to, and easily.

He turned to look at his granddaughter, to see how far she'd made it, and he saw that she'd stopped after about thirty yards to look back at him, and now she too was mesmerized by this thing. I said run, goddammit! I say you stop again, you won't ever be able to sit your ass down, it'll be so red! Arthur screamed. It pained him to speak to her that way, but it had to be done. Ruth immediately spun around so fast she almost slipped and fell down, and then she was hustling as quickly as her little legs could carry her down the hill.

Thank God she's a good kid and she listens. Arthur thought as he turned his head back around to look up at the hill and then gasped. The thing must have traveled almost 40 yards in the short time he'd taken to turn around and yell at his granddaughter. It was so fast. And damn if it wasn't big, too.

It was thin but tall. He estimated it might be close to eight feet tall, as he watched it continue to unflinchingly eat up the rugged terrain in front of it, one massive step after another, so unnaturally sure-footed, never looking at the ground in front of it, its white, glowing eyes never wavering in their fixation upon him. With a shaky hand, Arthur grabbed the knife he never went anywhere without and pulled it out of the sheath on his belt.

He held the short four-inch blade out in front of him and shouted, "'Stay back, you bastard! I'll cut your eyes out of your goddamn head!' Just as he feared his bluff didn't cause the Dark Watcher to alter its movements one damn bit, it just kept marching forward. If it even understood what he said, it clearly wasn't worried. But Arthur was worried. Arthur was the most worried he'd ever been by damn sight."

After a few moments of the two continuing to silently stare at one another, it was just 30 yards away. And then 20. And then only 10. What are you? Arthur roared, his eyes wide and wild with both fear and curiosity. Still, the creature said nothing. A creature that had looked like it was made from nothing more than shadows or black clouds from a distance. But now that it was closer, he could see that it was made of flesh. A strange, inhuman type of flesh. A creature that had been made of flesh.

It's a good one.

"'Go to hell!' Arthur started to yell as the thing closed within striking distance, and he swung his knife forward in a wide arc. But he never got the full phrase out. His words were cut short when the dark watcher punched its clawed right hand forward, a hand that felt like it was made of steel, and punched straight into Arthur's chest hard enough to crush it. His ribs and sternum shattered as he flew back and down the hill. He didn't have time to wonder if the blow was going to kill him or not before he passed out."

He was unconscious before his back touched the ground. Meanwhile, over 50 yards further down the hill, Ruth, thankfully, was still running towards her grandparents' home. Running and crying and unable to see her grandpa or the dark watcher beyond the edge of the saddle they fought on.

unable to see the strange creature punch her grandfather's chest a second time, hard enough to rip through his shirt and tear through his skin to penetrate past fractured bones and expose his organs. She was mercifully unable to see the monster grab her grandfather's still-beating heart with its powerful claw, rip it out with one pull, and begin to feed on it, chewing with razor-sharp teeth that were just as black as they were cold, just as black as the rest of its disturbingly alien body.

the afternoon following Arthur Crosby's murder. On August 4th, 59-year-old Ezra Calhoun was out in his barn, brushing his horse, Copper, when his wife of almost 25 years now, 46-year-old Kate, a wonderful woman with the same name as the daughter he'd lost long before he'd moved to Bodie, told him that one of the first men he'd met after he'd made it to town had been murdered.

Arthur's death was only the second murder in the area since he'd long ago killed the Beast of Bodie, as it had become known to damn near everyone in the county way back in 1916. And that other murder, when 86-year-old Dolores O'Grady had shot and killed a 22-year-old drifter from Sacramento who'd broken into her home, wasn't considered a tragedy nor a mystery.

Despite its violent, gold-rushed town beginnings, and despite it now dying itself, the soon-to-be ghost town of Bodhi had been exceptionally peaceful over the past quarter of a century, much to Ezra's liking.

He'd stayed on as sheriff until 1931, when it was decided that there wasn't enough people to warrant having a sheriff in Bodie anymore, and local law enforcement moved 30 miles away to the little town of Bridgeport, where a proper county jail had been built, and where the new sheriff and deputy would do their best to protect everyone in the dying county of Mono. There was barely 2,000 people in the entire county these days, most of them elderly, and more ghost towns than living ones.

Stepping down as sheriff ended up working out quite well for Ezra and Kate, and their two children, William, born in 1921, and Betty, born in 1923. It allowed Ezra to focus most of his energy on a few old mine claims he'd bought. And to his and everyone else's surprise, they'd coughed up a few big and rich veins of gold. They'd yielded enough for the Calhouns to not just live comfortably, but to be able to buy up hundreds of acres of dirt-cheap local land, some of it spilling into town.

and on that land, they'd built a nice but modest home in a barn. They still weren't rich, but they'd never have to truly worry about money again, and they thought they wouldn't ever have to worry about strange and murderous violence again either. But now it seemed as if Bodhi's long stretch of peace might have come to an end. Ida, Ruth, and Helen are a mess, Kate said solemnly. Yeah, I imagine so, replied Ezra in a drawl that still had a touch of his boyhood home of Missouri in it.

After taking a moment or two of contemplation, and then he added, a monster. That's what Art's granddaughter said killed him. I think a bad man made out of shadows, is what she told me. Kate responded grimly. The two of them then stood in silence as Kate watched Ezra think. When he got a certain look on his face and his eyes began to stare far away at nothing in particular, it was like she could see the wheels turning. Her husband didn't have a quick mind, but he had a good one.

and she learned that if you gave him enough time and space to think on something, there wasn't much he couldn't eventually figure out. Ezra finally grunted. His eyes then refocused on his wife as he asked her, What do you think? Do you think she saw a monster or a man who scared her?

Talking about monsters as if they were real was nothing new for Kate Calhoun. She'd heard all about Ezra's fight with the Beast of Bodie before she'd ever met him. And while she didn't believe it then, when she heard the story directly from Ezra, she was convinced. She knew that while the story had faded into nothing more than an urban legend for most, and while officially a local Native American man had been blamed for multiple murders...

The truth was that an honest-to-God monster, a skinwalker, had taken the lives of Martin Clark, Pat Keenan, Gus Chambers, and a large number of other local miners over many years. "'I don't know, Ezra. I honestly don't,' she answered thoughtfully and earnestly. "'She's only ten years old. Kids that age, you know. They can have such an imagination.' But,' she paused before continuing, "'she was so scared, hysterical almost.'

so afraid that what she called the Dark Watcher was going to come for her next. Dark Watcher, Ezra repeated. Yeah, that's what she called it, the Dark Watcher. Ezra nodded, signed. Well, let's hope Sheriff Crosby catches this Dark Watcher, that he's just a man, and we can put the whole tragic matter to bed. Yeah, let's hope, Kate said skeptically while raising her eyebrows.

Neither she nor Ezra thought a whole lot of Sheriff Crosby. As they'd often joked, they didn't believe he'd be capable of doing something as simple as tracking down the man who had shit in the pants Crosby wore while he was wearing them. George Crosby was the grandson of Moses Crosby, who was once the principal owner of Bodie's Standard Mine Corporation at the peak of the town's gold rush.

Moses had shrewdly reinvested his new fortune in local railroads and various supply stores and real estate ventures from Bodie all the way to San Francisco, and he'd left his family quite the inheritance. But then Moses' son Simon had promptly run much of the family business into the ground. At least he'd been able to sell enough of his family's land to ensure that he and his kids would never want for money, though. Or at least he thought he'd done that.

But Simon's son, George, turned out to be an even bigger fool than his father, and he drank and pissed away most of what he'd been given. George wasn't worth much more than a plugged nickel in Ezra's eyes, a man who couldn't pour water out of a boot, even if the instructions had been written on its heel.

But he had a winning smile, a firm handshake, was quick to laugh and easy on the eyes, and that was enough for him to get elected to be sheriff of Mono County back in 1938, and then re-elected in 1942 after just about every other young man in the county who could have or should have taken his job from him had been sent out to fight the Germans, the Italians, and the Japanese.

The murder of Arthur Harding would be George's first homicide investigation, and neither Ezra nor Kate had high hopes regarding his ability to solve it, unless the killer were to walk directly into the sheriff's office and confess. The night before Kate spoke with Ezra, Mono County Sheriff George Crosby had to finish puking before he continued speaking with the county coroner, Bob Snyder, about the remains of Arthur Harding. He'd never seen anything like it.

As sheriff, Arthur's remains were just the eighth dead body he'd caught sight of. Three previous bodies were local senior citizens who had died in their homes of either a heart attack or a stroke. Two were a young couple who'd driven their car off the highway and had been crushed when it rolled. Another was a teenager who'd drowned while out swimming with friends in Mono Lake. And the seventh body belonged to a ranch hand who had gotten kicked in the head by his horse in a freak accident.

And while none of their bodies have been exactly pleasant to have looked at, especially the two mangled victims of the car accident, they had also been a long, long ways from this, whatever this was. Those other deaths hadn't turned his stomach at their sight, hadn't left him feeling afraid either. The look on Arthur's face, he knew he'd never be able to forget it, frozen in a stunned scream. He'd been so scared when he died, more scared than anyone George had ever seen.

Arthur's granddaughter, Ruth, had said that she'd seen some sort of monster, some kind of bad man made out of shadows or something, coming down the hill from the top of the ridge towards her grandpa. And, like any sane person who didn't believe in monsters would, he'd assumed that a regular old man, maybe a man dressed all in black, or even some black man, had come for Arthur. But what kind of man could have done this, George wondered. Bob looked scared, too.

He'd seen a lot of dead bodies in his day. Hell, he'd been the county coroner for more than 30 years, running unopposed in every election since he was the only funeral home director living in the county. But he'd never seen anything like this either. He said it looked like an animal had killed Arthur. But what kind of animal he couldn't say. It had crushed his ribcage and clawed into his chest. But he'd hesitated when he'd started to say clawed. It sounded like he'd been about to say punched or pushed into his chest.

and then instead of eating some of him, it had only taken his heart, as far as Bob could tell. His heart was missing. Where is it? Do you think whatever, whoever killed him ate it? George asked as his deputy, Caleb Petty, held a big flashlight on Arthur's remains. Caleb was white as a ghost, still a bit wobbly from puking himself.

Hell if I know, muttered Bob. None of this makes any sense. I know I said clawed a moment ago, but no animal I've heard of goes through the trouble of opening up a man's chest like this and then only takes one organ. And it didn't exactly take the easy way in either. A wolf or any other critter I've ever heard of would have chewed through the soft tissue, would have accessed the chest cavity by tearing open the abdomen, blow the ribs. So a man did this then, George speculated.

"'Well,' Bob said before pausing and trying to gather thoughts that clearly didn't make any sense to him, "'that's the curious thing. I don't rightly see how a man could do this either. A man would use something sharp like a knife. But something tore the hole in his chest with a blunt instrument, and to do that—' "'Boy, howdy!' Bob didn't know what to say after that. He just raised his hands up in exasperation. George directed his own flashlight to the hill just above Arthur. "'Stay here with Bob, Caleb. I'm going to go peek around up there, see what I can find.'

Once Georgia walked about 10 feet above Arthur's body, he saw what looked like a big boot print, bigger than any he'd ever seen before, but only one. What the hell? He mumbled to himself as he hiked up a bit higher. Around eight feet further up the hill, he saw another one. When he hiked up farther, he found a third around eight feet from the second. He did a bit more investigating and quickly found a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth.

all spaced around eight feet apart, and all in a straight line leading back down to Arthur's remains. He pointed his flashlight further up the hill along that line and gasped, when just for a split second, he thought he saw a man standing up on the ridge, a big, tall man in a wide-brimmed hat, a bad man made out of shadows, his mind reminded him. But just as quickly as he saw him, he was gone. George considered very briefly walking up to the ridge to take a look around.

but he was too scared. "'Hell with that,' he softly muttered and shivered. They didn't pay him enough to head up there in the dark to try and find whatever had somehow punched a goddamn hole in Arthur Harding's chest. "'You see anything, George?' Caleb called out from below. "'Nah,' Arthur yelled back. "'Thought I saw something for a moment, but it was nothing. Let's get that body bag and get the hell out of here. We can come back and look around more tomorrow when it's light out.' "'You ain't gonna get no argument from me on that,' Caleb said."

Me neither, added Bob, who then said, I ain't ashamed to admit I'm spooked as hell out here. None of this feels right. None of it. I don't have a damn clue what could have done this to Arthur, and I'm honestly not sure I even want to know. And now before we find out what happens next in the sad little excuse for a town of Bodie, California, time for our mid-show sponsor break.

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Thank you for hearing on our sponsors. And now let's return to the dying former gold rush town of Bodie, California, and the mysterious dark watcher terrifying what's left of it. Whiskey or bourbon, Ezra? Mick Weeks, the bartender at the Temple Saloon, the only saloon left in Bodie, jokingly asked his longtime friend,

The usual. Ezra grinned as he sat down a few hours after Kate had told him about Arthur. The good stuff. One glass of sarsaparilla on the rocks coming up, Mick replied playfully as he grabbed a glass bottle from the fridge and added its carbonated contents to the glass he'd put a few cubes of ice into when he'd watched Ezra walk in. Guessing you heard about Arthur, Mick remarked, correctly assuming that was why the former sheriff was paying him a visit. Yeah, Arthur replied as he sat down on a stool.

So? Mick asked. What are we dealing with? I don't know, Mick, Ezra said earnestly before he continued with, I was hoping you'd heard some details I hadn't. Mick grinned as he set Ezra's soda in front of him. You don't want to call up George Crosby and ask him? He teased. Or drive up onto Ridgeport, chat with Bob. He might let you look at the body. Yeah, I'd rather play peekaboo with a rattlesnake than chat with George, Ezra joked back.

"'And I bet Bob would let me look, but I'm trying to stay out of this mess.' "'And yet here you are, asking me what I know,' Mick bantered. Ezra shot his friend a slightly irritated look before he asked, "'You gonna tell me or not?' Mick's demeanor shifted now, and he suddenly looked serious as he poured himself a shot of four roses. "'It's bad, Ezra,' he said gravely, before throwing back the shot and then continuing to talk.'

Ida said that their granddaughter Ruth had been seeing something for a few days. A strange man up on top of the hill above their house. Some silent fella, dressed all in black, who'd been standing along the ridge, watching her pick flowers a few early evenings in a row. Ezra took a moment to absorb and process this before he asked, And this man, he never said a word to her, just watched her.

Apparently so, from what I've gathered, Mick told him, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. Never said nothing. Just stood up there and stared at her. Scared her some. So she wanted her grandpa to hike up with her and tell him to beat it. Not a bad plan, Ezra mused. Arthur was a tough guy. Yeah, he was, Mick agreed. Even though he was a bit past his prime, I still wouldn't have wanted to square off with him. Yeah, Ezra nodded.

I saw the aftermath of a few fights he was in years back, and he could put some real hurt on a fella, that was for sure. Did Ruth say anything about what she saw the night he died? Mick nodded again. She said her grandpa yelled at him, but he didn't say anything back. Her grandpa told her to run home, and she did, but she looked back after a bit, and she said she saw him coming down the hill. Said she'd never seen anyone come down a mountain as fast as he was walking. It's like he was running straight down the slope. Ezra shook his head before he spoke.

Huh. Strange. What did she say he looked like? Mick sighed. Well, I'm hearing all this second or third hand or worse. It's not like I spoke with her myself, of course, but apparently, even after he started coming down the hill, he still looked like he looked when the sun was to his back on the ridge. Ezra furrowed his brow, bemused, before he asked, How do you mean?

Mick paused for a moment before he spoke, realizing how absurd what he was about to say would sound, but also realizing if anyone he knew wouldn't think it sounded crazy, it would be Ezra Calhoun. I mean, he still looked like a shadow, all black, all black except for his eyes. She said they were white and that they glowed. Ezra nodded and looked down at the floor for a bit, considering what he'd just been told. What about details from the crime scene?

"'Anyone coming here talking about any of that?' "'Oh, yeah,' Mick said, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head a bit. "'Quite a few people. "'The rumor is that this man somehow, well, I don't know how else to describe it, "'but he punched a goddamn hole in Arthur's chest and ripped his heart out. "'And get this,' Mick added, lowering his voice and leaning forward. "'They didn't find his heart at the scene. "'They think this thing they're calling the Dark Watcher ate it.'"

Just then a few other locals walked in and while Mick greeted them and took their drink orders, Ezra slammed back most of his soda, slapped two quarters on the counter, and walked out before he got dragged into any conversations he didn't feel like having. A part of him didn't like how stirred up he was feeling inside, but another part of him, a part that worried him, was excited. He felt like he did back in the spring of 1916 when solving a string of murders led to him hunting down a bona fide monster.

When hunting something, more beast than man left him feeling filled with a greater sense of purpose than he'd ever felt before. August 5th, 1943.

Just two days after Arthur Harding's murder at the Mint, the soda shop in Bridgeport, 15-year-old Eddie O'Connor was trying to talk his friend, 14-year-old Dick Landry, into driving down to Bodie with him and hiking up to the site of Arthur's murder as they sat in a booth across from their girlfriends, 15-year-old Sandy Milton and Dorothy Boyle. "'Come on, Dick, don't be such a drip,' Eddie joshed. "'You're afraid of the Dark Watcher, aren't you?' "'No, I'm not.'

Dick protested unconvincingly. I just, well, you heard what he did to that old man. Eddie laughed. You are afraid. I knew it. That old man wasn't carrying a loaded .357 Magnum, most powerful handgun in the world. My pop has one. And I snuck it out of his dresser, have it in the jalopy. We shoot the Dark Watcher and we're legends. And then Eddie leaned in and spoke what he said next in a mock whisper, loud enough to make sure the girls sitting across from them heard him.

Then, maybe Sandy will finally let you make it to second base. Shut up, Eddie, Sandy protested, half offended and half laughing. You're such a crumb, after a bit more teasing. And after promising Sandy and Dorothy that he'd have them back home before sundown, Eddie was able to convince all of them to hop into the back of his 1937 Ford Standard Coupe and take the 30-minute drive to Bodie. You sure about this, Eddie?

Dick asked anxiously as he gazed up at the top of the hill that the afternoon sun had just started to dip behind. You chicken? Eddie mocked. He grinned as he dug his elbow into his buddy's ribs. I'll cut it out. Dick scolded, irritated.

"'Come on!' Eddie protested. "'Don't be so sour! We've got a gun!' he bragged as he waved his dad's revolver around in the air. "'And besides,' he added, "'the only reason that son of a bitch caught that old man was because he was old and slow. We've been running around these hills our whole lives, and we're young and fast. We ain't got nothing to worry about.' "'Yeah, I guess you're right,' Dick admitted reluctantly. "'Course I'm right!' Eddie beamed. "'That's the spirit!'

And then he leaned in with a big mischievous grin and said, "'Just think about how good Sandy's knockers are gonna feel when she lets you squeeze them!' "'Shut up, Eddie!' Sandy Fogue glowered. "'God, you're such a jerk!' While the two girls giggled and gossiped and leaned up against the side of Eddie's car facing the hill, which was parked on the street about 200 feet down from the Harding's house, Eddie and Dick started hiking up, with Eddie carrying his dad's fully-loaded .357 in the right front pocket of his wide, loose-fitting jeans."

since they actually were young and fast. It only took Eddie and Dick a little over 20 minutes to make it to where Arthur had been killed, and being that it was still back in the days before the police taped off crime scenes, even though there was still blood on the grass and dirt, they were free to explore the area as they pleased. "'Jeepers, would you look at all that blood!' Eddie exclaimed, pointing at the stained ground where Arthur Harding had had his heart ripped out and eaten."

Dick didn't say a word. He simply stared silently, slack-jawed, looking as pale as a ghost. "'Ah, don't you go flipping your wig on me!' Eddie razzed him. "'It's just a little blood is all. Nothing that can hurt you. It's blood from a man who was murdered right here, Eddie. Christ on a cross. I heard that thing ripped his heart clean out.' And then he looked dramatically at Eddie while he slowly spoke what he said next. "'And ate it!'

Eddie cackled like he had just heard a good joke. Come on, don't be such a chucklehead, he said. That's just tall talk. Ain't nobody, not even the most deranged killers, eating anybody's hearts out. Then Eddie was about to ask his buddy as he looked up towards the ridge. Didn't the killer walk straight down from right up? But he froze when he saw the dark watcher's shadowy form. He would have never admitted it to Dick, but he hadn't thought in a million years that they were going to actually see the dark watcher.

He figured this was the last place a killer would go while the police were still looking for him. The scene of his crime. All of his tough talk was just to impress Dorothy. Now he truly was glad he'd brought his dad's gun. He was legitimately terrified. Dick looked in the direction of Eddie's gaze and felt his stomach drop down to his ankles. Oh shit, he blurted out. It's him, the dark watcher. He's still here. And then he turned to his friend and pleaded, let's split. But as afraid as he was, Eddie still didn't want to show it.

He didn't want Dorothy, or Sandy for that matter, to hear that he'd been anything but brave. He didn't want anyone back in school to think he'd been chicken. His reputation meant everything to him. "Nah, I ain't afraid of him," he lied. "Like I said earlier," he then boasted as he pulled the .357 out of his pocket, "I got the most powerful handgun in the world, and I'm a crack shot too." "Well, you stay and fight then," Eddie sputtered as he shook his head. "I ain't afraid to admit I'm yellow as hell right now. That thing scares the bejesus out of me. Look at its eyes."

They both stared at the dark watcher as it, looking like the silhouette of a menacing gunslinger, stared back at them with its strange and upsetting eyes that burned such a bright white. If Dick could have seen his friend's face while they both stared up the hill, he would have known Eddie was every bit as frightened as he was. Stay if you want, man. I'm out of here.

Dick stated firmly before he turned and bolted down the hill, moving as fast as he could manage without falling, stumbling several times as he barely kept himself under control. Hey! Eddie yelled after him. Get back here, you chicken! Eddie wanted to run as well. He almost did. But he hoped that if he stayed just a bit longer, the dark watcher would retreat over the ridge. Then he could fire a few shots up the hill and tell the girls he'd scared him away after Dick had abandoned him. But instead...

When he turned back around, he saw that the Dark Watcher was moving towards him. And he began to accept that some of the rumors were true. That this wasn't a man. It was a goddamn monster. He raised his father's gun and pointed it at him. He yelled as loudly and bravely as he could. He warned as his hand that held the gun started to shake.

This thing was moving fast, too fast. It wasn't right how it was walking. It was heading down the hill in too straight of a line, and it held on to its shadowy color long after it had left the top of the ridge and the sun was no longer behind it. Last warning! Eddie cried out, hating the tremble he heard in his voice. I'm serious! He screamed, feeling like he was about to cry now. The dark watcher had already closed almost half the distance between him and the top of the hill. He fired the revolver.

He figured he must have missed since the thing didn't break stride. He couldn't believe it didn't at least flinch. It didn't react at all. Who didn't care that they were being shot at? Damn you! He intended to roar, but it came out more like a whimper. Bam! Bam! It couldn't have been more than 50 yards away now. Eddie couldn't understand how he could have missed three more times. But he must have. Because again, the thing didn't break stride or react in any way. And now he only had two shots left.

Stay away from me! He blustered. He was crying now. And the tears in his eyes made it harder for him to aim as he fired his last two rounds. Still, no reaction. And now it was close enough that Eddie could see its features. It looked like a cross between a gunslinger and a comic book villain. Everything but its eyes was as black as midnight. But it still had discernible features. Human features.

A square jawline and high angular cheekbones. A Roman nose. Short straight hair beneath his wide brimmed hat. Thin lips closed tight in an expression of neither joy nor anger. Perfectly emotionless. Like the best poker face of all time. A thin but muscular build like a bull rider, but tall and lanky. Maybe even a good eight feet tall.

with no more bullets to shoot, and the creature only about 25 yards away and still moving fast. Eddie dropped his father's gun and turned and started running down the hill. He could see his buddy Dick 50 or 60 yards below him. And far beyond Dick, he could see the girls standing in front of his Ford, jumping up and down, waving their arms and yelling, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He wanted to yell too. He wanted to yell, Help! Please! Someone help me!

But what good would that do? There wasn't anyone on Earth who could make it to him before the Dark Watcher could reach him. His only chance, unless they just decided to let him go, was to outrun it. But he didn't like his odds.

He prayed, or at least he started to pray, that it would show him mercy and leave him be. "Please, God!" he thought as he ran down the hill on the edge of spiraling out of control. "I won't curse anymore! I won't smoke anymore! I won't-" His last bit of silent groveling was cut short when he slipped and tumbled forward, falling ass over tea kettle, somersaulting forward down the loose and rocky soil, and breaking his neck in the process. But while he lost the use of his arms and legs, he didn't lose consciousness.

He instead slid to a stop on his back, his legs scraped and bleeding, and crumpled beneath him. His face pointed up towards the sky, his head resting unnaturally on his left shoulder while he struggled to breathe. Below, in the distance, he still heard the girls screaming, and above him, the steady, determined pursuit of the dark watcher. Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! And then just a few seconds later, the thudding ceased, and now it stood above him.

It then stepped down to just below where his useless legs lay tangled and turned around to face him. Still every bit as expressionless as before, it knelt down upon one knee beside him. He wanted to scream, but his lungs weren't working right and he didn't have the breath. It pulled its right fist back, a fist with wolf-like claws for fingers. And all Eddie could think about was Dick saying, I heard that thing ripped his heart out and ate it.

The last thing 15-year-old Eddie O'Connor saw was the Dark Watcher literally punching into his chest. He died as it grabbed his heart. And while his eyes were still open as the Dark Watcher ripped it out, he thankfully couldn't see the creature begin to devour it.

A little over an hour later, Mono County Sheriff George Crosby, his deputy Caleb Petty, and the county coroner Bob Snyder were standing over the remains of another dead and mutilated body, no more than 10 yards from where the blood of another murdered body that examined two days earlier still stained the ground. Bridgeport teenager, 15-year-old Eddie O'Connor, had met an end just as tragic as 56-year-old Bodie resident Arthur Harding.

George was glad he hadn't puked this time, but that was the only thing he felt glad about at the moment. While Caleb again pointed his flashlight at the remains as the last scraps of daylight faded, he asked Bob, same as before, ain't it? And dreaded the answer he knew was coming.

"'Yeah,' Bob defeatedly confirmed, shaking his head in frustration before starting to work himself up. "'Same as before. I won't write this in the report because I don't want to have to defend it in court down the road and be made a fool of, but some devil punched his way into this boy's chest and tore his goddamn heart out!' He paused and then started yelling out in exasperation, "'Which is impossible! It's impossible! But it happened! Happened twice in two goddamn days!'

He then stared helplessly at the sheriff as he continued. I've been turning what happened to Arthur around in my head nonstop since two nights ago, George. I've been able to sleep. What happened to him? What now happened to this poor kid? He spoke this next part slowly and deliberately. It isn't possible, but here we are. And then he hung his head and shook it. Caleb spoke next, asking...

What are we going to do, boss? Folks around here are going to want some answers. They're going to be afraid, even more afraid than they already are. Hell, I'm afraid. It's going to be pandemonium. George didn't have a clue what to do. He'd only run for sheriff in the first place because he wanted his family to be proud of him for something after being such a screw-up for most of his life, and because he needed a steady paycheck, and also because this was Mono County, where serious crimes never happened.

because there was almost no one left in the county to commit any crimes anymore. This was not what he'd signed up for. I guess I'm going to start by talking to Ezra Calhoun, he said reluctantly as he shook his head. He knew Ezra didn't care for him much, and it pained him to feel like he had no one else to turn to. He's the only guy around here I know of who's maybe dealt with something like this before. Maybe the old Beast of Bodie legend is true after all.

We'll need to visit him tonight before word of this gets out and we got a mob of people screaming outside the station carrying torches and pitchforks. And then he stared up the hill, half expecting to again catch at least a glimpse of the dark watcher as the sky grew dark. But he saw, thankfully, nothing. Where are you? He whispered to himself. What are you? And what the hell do you want with us? Hours later, a couple of hours after speaking inside his house with Sheriff Crosby and Deputy Petty earlier in the evening,

Ezra Calhoun was back out in the barn, his wife Kate watching him load some of the ash-covered bullets he hadn't used up on that skinwalker decades ago into the new Remington 81 he'd recently bought to shoot any coyotes who came after any of their animals or pets. It only held five rounds in its fixed magazine, but Ezra thought that would probably be all he'd need. Based on how fast he'd heard this thing could move, he doubted he'd be able to get off many more shots than five, win, lose, or draw.

but he assembled a few five-round stripper clips just in case. George and Caleb had asked him what they thought they were up against and what they should do. He told them he didn't have a clue what this creature was that was tormenting the town and that he'd need a good 48 hours to do his own investigating and hopefully to hunt it down and kill it. He told them to tell any reporters who'd caught word of Eddie's death to keep it out of the papers while they worked. Any extra investigators, vigilantes, or search parties were only going to get in his way and lead to more deaths.

and he asked them to go door to door in the Bodie area tonight, telling everyone they could find that, under no circumstances, were they to go out looking for the killer in the hills around town. They shouldn't go out in the hills for any reason, at all, until this mess was sorted out, and they should lock their doors. And finally, to make everyone they spoke with feel like the sheriff's office was on top of the situation, he instructed George and Caleb to let everyone know that the county was already working with the FBI.

who he said they actually would need to reach out to if he failed. Do you really think you can figure this mess out? Kate asked him with more than a hint of worry and concern in her voice. Ezra finished putting the final round on his last stripper clip as he listened and then sighed before he spoke. I don't know, Kate. I don't know what this thing is or how to stop it, but I've got to try.

"'No, you don't,' Kate objected. "'If you don't even know what this thing is or how to stop it, how are you going to do anything other than get yourself killed, if you can even find it?' Ezra wanted to argue with her, but he didn't know what to say. She was right, but he was determined nevertheless to go forward with his attempt. Correct or not, he felt like it was his duty to try and find and kill this, this dark watcher. No, that wasn't quite right. It wasn't just a sense of duty.'

Although it felt too silly to say out loud, he felt like it was his destiny to try and stop it. Ezra tightened his jaw and gritted his teeth with determination before he began to speak to his wife again, staring her square in the eyes and stealing himself against any tears that might well up if she started to worry about this thing killing him, which he knew was a very possible outcome. Well, I do know it's able to punch its way into victims' chests and that it seems to feed on flesh.

which tells me that this thing has a physical form. And if it has a physical form, then it should have some physical vulnerabilities. Something has to be able to hurt it.

I agree.

"'But you don't know what could hurt it, do you?' The voice of a woman neither Ezra nor Kate recognized asked as she stepped inside the open door to the barn. Startled, Kate cried out while Ezra grabbed his rifle. "'Well, I'm here to help!' the woman shouted as she put her empty hands out in front of her. While Ezra hadn't seen her before, he thought he knew who she was."

A Romanian family had moved into the area a few years earlier. He'd heard they dressed a little differently and believed all sorts of stuff he would have thought was nothing more than nonsense and superstition back before he'd encountered the supernatural himself. This woman, who he'd guessed was in her 30s,

wore a brightly colored headscarf with various hues of red and orange, leather sandals, and a long flowing white dress with a red and orange floral print woven into it, a dress seemingly made from multiple fabrics with puffy sleeves, and it was partially covered by a brightly colored maroon and cobalt blue shawl. She had gold rings on most of her fingers, a dozen or so bracelets on each forearm, and dangling gold earrings with engravings of eyes inside of hands on them.

I'm Leonora Kratu. My family and I moved to this area a few years back, and I'm here because your sheriff just warned me about this Dark Watcher, as I've heard it called, how it's killed again, and how you're the guy who's trying to stop it. Immediately, Ezra was greatly annoyed.

he'd given George and Caleb very clear and specific instructions. And they sure as shit hadn't included telling everyone they spoke with that he was trying to hunt down and kill a monster in their midst. He thought to himself those two idiots would screw up kicking a tire down a hill. Yeah, something like that, Ezra conceded. No offense, but how exactly do you figure into that? Leonore smiled and then stated plainly and confidently, I'm here to tell you how to trap it.

Over the next hour or so, after Kate had invited Leonora into the house and made her some hot tea, she helped Ezra come up with a plan to defeat the Dark Watcher. She explained how she had seen it. And not just in Bodhi. She said when she was still a little girl, living back in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania, one of these things had terrorized her village. She said that while it was dressed differently than the Dark Watcher in Bodhi, it was the same kind of monster.

She explained that these things seemed to dress in a way specific to the area and time from which they came from. They dressed as they had when they had first transformed from man to monster. And this Romanian watcher had killed six different people before her grandmother had finally been able to stop it. She said that while her grandmother was unable to kill it, she knew how to trap it.

She explained that her grandma, before she passed away, had been very, very knowledgeable when it came to the strange and dark things in the world that most people thought were nothing more than legends or fairy tales. Her grandma had believed in all sorts of monsters, and not only believed in them, but she knew what their weaknesses were. She had old books about many of them, and knew of many others by remembering the stories that had been passed down from generation to generation. And she knew that this particular monster, when it felt threatened...

or when it wanted to feed, and it began to pursue its intended victim. It had this peculiar way of always moving towards its victim in a straight line, and never paying any mind to the ground in front of it. This served it well most of the time, as it was as sure-footed as a mountain goat, but this also left it vulnerable to being trapped.

She said that if they could dig a pit at least a dozen feet deep and cover it with something that appeared to be solid ground that wouldn't support the monster's weight if it were to step on it, it would fall in. And that if you created and activated a grid at the bottom of the pit with the right kind of crystal, smoky quartz, a magical mineral that greatly weakens this creature and essentially paralyzes it, you could then fill the hole back in, and while you wouldn't have killed it, you will have trapped it forever.

or at least until someone else comes along and finds it and moves it away from the crystals that weakened it. In moments while listening to all of this, Caden Ezra had exchanged glances, expressing some concern that Leonora might be a crackpot. But what she said made a strange kind of sense to Ezra. He thought, was believing that some sort of activated crystal grid that could trap a monster any crazier than believing in the monster itself? Probably not.

and since he had no other ideas about how to stop it, he decided to work with Leonora and follow her lead. Before she left, they decided he would dig the pit on land he owned near the base of the hill that rose above the Harding's home.

Meanwhile, Leonora would travel to Tonopah, Nevada, where she said she knew a woman who had a bunch of the right crystals. She'd set out early in the morning and be back by around two in the afternoon. If Ezra could get the pit dug and the hole hidden, they'd be ready to try and lure the creature off of the mountain as the sun started to set. If the plan worked, they'd be monster-free in less than 24 hours' time. And if it didn't?

then they'd likely be the next two victims of the Dark Watcher, a monster that would continue to kill until it decided to move on and terrorize some other mountain community. And why did these Dark Watchers always appear high up in the hills and mountains? That was something Leonora's grandma didn't know. Even for those who know them best, most of what made up these monsters and why they did what they did remained a mystery. August 6th, 1943, late afternoon.

Ezra, filthy and sweaty, looked down into the old well he'd reopened on the edge of his property with a bit of dynamite he'd been able to get from his friend Mick, and then Mick had helped him move some rock and shovel some dirt around until they had themselves their desired monster pit. Kate stayed in the house. She wasn't going to try and forbid Ezra from doing what he intended to do. She knew who she'd married, but she didn't want to help either and feel complicit in his demise if things went south.

Ezra and Mick used some rope to lower Leonora down into the pit with the crystals she'd brought back from Tonopah, gave her time to build her grid, which she then activated with some sort of intention-setting ritual that made Mick roll his eyes pretty damn hard, and then they covered it all up with a mixture of rotten boards they took from one of the town's many abandoned buildings and some old horse blankets. Finally, they covered it all with a bunch of dusty dirt until it more or less blended in with the surroundings."

Now they just had to find the dark watcher and get the demon to come all the way down the mountain, step on those boards, fall into that pit, and stay there. Ezra laughed at how absurd it all was, and he prayed it would somehow work. He convinced Mick that they were going to wait a night to try and trap it in order to get him to go home, no sense in him needlessly risking his life as well.

and he'd be more than happy to deal with him being pissed off about being lied to if he and Leonora somehow pulled this cockeyed plan of hers off. An hour or so later, Leonora was about a third of the way up the same hill where the Dark Watcher had already killed twice as the sun started to drop behind the ridge. She held a big mirror in her arms. She told Ezra that darkness hates nothing more than light, and that if you wanted to really anger one of these things,

you had to show it some light by reflecting the sun directly onto its face. She also told Ezra that before she'd left for Tonopah in the morning, she'd walked up to the top of the ridge and left a bowl containing the heart of a freshly butchered pig as an offering to lure the creature back there near sunset. These creatures only ever appeared on the peaks or ridges of hills and mountains, and only as the sun began to set for reasons she either didn't know or couldn't remember.

When the creature appeared, she told him she'd direct a reflected beam of the sun's light back into its face. And then once it started to move, she'd run like hell back towards him and their pit. As for Ezra, he was to stand behind the pit in order to guide her where she needed to run. And as a plan B, in case it killed her, she wanted him to shoot it, hoping that would anger it enough to come for him now. And then he could direct it into the pit. And that was it. That was the entirety of their master plan.

and now it was time to set it in motion. Why do this? Ezra had asked Leonora before she had started walking from the area around the pit to the hill. You could have used that crystal to protect your own home and just waited until this thing was done with us. That's not what my grandmother would have done, and that's not who I am, Leonora told him flatly. And then she added, I'd rather die with my principles than to live with none. Yeah, Bodhi replied as they shared a glance of mutual respect, and he nodded. I suppose that's why I'm here with you.

and then she turned and started walking. Ezra now watched her fuss with the mirror from her position about a third of the way up the hill. He could see the reflected beam light up a big circle of ground towards the ridge, and then on the ridge, it appeared, just as advertised, the dark watcher. He watched Leonora adjust the angle of the mirror she held ever so slightly until it was covered by a circle of the town's last minute or so of sunbeams, and like she said it would, it became enraged.

It immediately started marching down the hill faster than Ezra could have ever run across flat ground, and Leonora turned and started to run back towards him. He thought before he saw this thing move that she'd be able to easily cover the roughly 200 yards between the base of the hill and where he stood before the thing could catch her. But now he wasn't so sure. She was fit and fast for her age, but she was running in a damn dress, and that demon could move.

By the time she'd made it to the bottom, it was damn near halfway down the mountain. And now she was starting to slow down and get tired, and this thing, the Dark Watcher, appeared to be speeding up, if anything. But still, he thought she could pull it off. Go, go, go! He yelled. Don't slow down! Leonora, who'd tossed the mirror to the ground as soon as she'd started to run, was pumping her arms and giving it her all. But she was starting to limp a bit, as if she were cramping up.

Shit.

Ezra didn't want to cause Leonora to panic, but she had to pick up her pace if she was going to make it. Faster! He yelled. Faster, goddamn it! Come on, Leonora! Go, go, go! By God, she listened. He'd never seen a woman run so fast. Soon, she was only 30 yards on the other side of that pit. Then 20. She was going to make it. She was starting to smile despite her exhaustion. She was... No! No, no, no! She stumbled, rolled her ankle, and fell.

Instinctively, Ezra started to run towards her with his rifle, to hell with the pit. It would have to be a gun battle after all. Stop! Leonora screamed at him as she pulled herself to her feet, as Ezra watched the dark watcher approach her with ferocious speed. Ezra, it won't work! She cried out as she limped along now, slowly, on her twisted ankle. It'll kill us both! She yelled. Ezra stopped, raised his rifle, and pointed it.

Damn it!

He shot it right in the face, right as it was chewing. And that didn't hurt it one damn bit, but it did piss it off. And now it charged towards him. As it began to run again, Ezra altered his position to move the invisible line, connecting them to the right just a bit and center it over the middle of the pit. He shot at it again, and again, and again. Nothing fazed it, except that pit. The creature's immense weight caused it to bust through the rotten boards like they were made of thin strips of paper.

and without a scream or growl or shriek, the Dark Watcher silently disappeared into the ground. Moments later, Ezra was standing on the edge of the pit and looking down. The Dark Watcher lay on its back at the bottom, barely moving, as if it had been locked down with invisible chains. I can't imagine a fate much worse than being buried alive, Ezra spat at it, especially when you never get the chance to die and be released from your prison of dirt. I hope my face is the last one you ever see, you evil bastard.

Ezra then grabbed his shovel and started tossing down dirt. Soon, Kate came out to help him, after hugging him tight and crying a bit first. Then after Kate covered Leonora's body and said a prayer for her soul, Ezra sent Kate to find Mick so he could help he and Kate fill the hole back in quick. They needed to get it done fast and make it look like there was never a hole there at all before they called Sheriff Crosby and told him he had another murder victim's body to come collect.

and that while her killer would never be found, it would also never kill again. And that was how the Calhoun family's future demon penitentiary was born, with one monster trapped in the dirt beneath Bodhi. And that was also how Ezra Calhoun became more than just a former sheriff who'd once killed a monster. It was how he became the first in a family of monster hunters.

And that's it for this Nightmare Fuel. I hope you loved or were horrified by or at least entertained by today's tale of Ezra and the Dark Watcher. Today's tale was written by me, Dan Cummins, and scored by Logan Keith. It was a lot of fun to revisit Ezra after almost a year away and to share some connective tissue between him and Lizzie Chavez.

If you enjoyed this story, check out the rest of the Bad Magic Productions catalog. Time Suck every Monday at noon Pacific time with little short sucks on some Fridays. And these nightmare-fueled episodes on some Fridays as well. And new episodes of the now long-running paranormal podcast Scared to Death every Tuesday at midnight. Please go to badmagicproductions.com for all your bad magic needs, including show-related merch, and stay scared. Bad Magic Productions.