I do not watch horror movies because the scariest scenes stay with me in living technicolor surround sound detail. The gruesome scenes can instantly flare to life in my imagination as I am walking to the barn in the dark, or getting something out the truck in the dark, or sitting home alone on a dark, stormy night, when the electrical service invariably fails. If I allow it, my imagination will instantly reconstruct the terror I experienced overhearing a scary television program my mother was watching when I was ten. And let me just say, that has been a long while ago - the edge should have been off!
In the best horror movie tradition, something evil is stalking me here at Spirit Creek Farm.... something I can not see, only hear its diabolical footsteps tracking me on the path from the barn. If I stop, its stealthy footsteps stop, too. When I look around, all appears normal.
This very evening, the evil presence was once again shadowing me. It is getting so bold as to stalk me in broad daylight. Though the ground was covered with snow on Sunday morning, the sunlight and the warm south wind Monday dried the leaves on the ground and they have regained their telltale rustling. As I was returning to the house after chores, rapidly approaching footsteps through the leaves alerted me to the presence. I casually stopped, all senses tense. As I slowly turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse, I saw nothing but the chickens innocently scratching happily beneath the trees.
I turned once again for the house and the steps once again rapidly approached! I spun around to face the attacker and came face to face with pure evil - Elvis, the Belgium D'Uccle rooster - all sixteen ounces of his black and soulless being, stalking me from behind, his beady eyes fastened hatefully upon me. His little evil rooster feet, those scaly talons from hell, rustling the leaves, striking terror in my soul.
No longer shall he be called Elvis, for his name is Evil.