From the apparent prevalence of such a well-known legend, I elected to share my hair-raising experience with a few friends. A couple of them were already familiar with the spooky story. Several of them speculated over the origin of the phantom canine and it’s missing head. I had to admit that I was also very curious about it but I wasn’t convinced there was any pedestrian way to uncover the answers.
Does the headless hound blindly search for the one who wronged it, so long ago?; I pondered aloud. Maybe it’s restless spirit roams the forest for vengeance. Perhaps the poor beast is just lost in a senseless haze and needs help moving on. Somehow; despite the extreme handicap, it knew I was there by the fire. I surmised that the phantom canine had to possess some otherworldly senses. I held little expectation of ever finding out the truth through conventional means. I might never know but I felt a weighing compulsion to try.
As one who firmly believes in taking matters into his own hands, I elected to seek out the haunter of the woods again. The direct approach seemed the best, in my search for answers. With the natural landmarks still fresh in my mind, I was able to backtrack until I located my previous campsite. Only time would tell if I would be visited again by the headless hound of Mount Forge. Daylight faded and the animals of the night began to stir about. A symphony of nighttime birds filled the air and bats fluttered in the darkness. The natural peacefulness of which I couldn’t relax, in anticipation of what was to come.
This time I actually heard the low, hollow growl of the beast before I saw it. The other creatures of the night had grown silent. Any aggressive animal that size was a grave danger but with such a chilling supernatural element added, it was a deadly cocktail. It walked toward me with a deliberate precision. I clutched my rifle but even pointed directly at my adversary, I didn’t feel safe. What good were mortality-inflicting bullets against an undead canine?
As if perfectly aware of how close it could come before I squeezed off a few defensive rounds, the headless creature stopped a mere seven feet from my trembling legs. At that range, I would only have one shot at the thing. Not having the benefit of seeing the expression in its eyes, I had no visual warning of its intention. The two of us remained motionless for several moments. Perhaps uncertain of what would happen next.
I was now close enough to actually smell the snarling beast. I had no eye focus to monitor, nor any tale-tell ear movements to react to. I only had the benefit of its phantom body posture to analyze. Where the head should have been was only a foggy, billowy haze. The rest was the impressive physique of a large wolf-like mastiff hybrid. It’s powerful front legs led to a muscular upper torso. Its hind quarters revealed a svelte, athletic hourglass and equally powerful hind legs. Raised high in a dominant posture was its bushy, sled-dog tail. I was so close that I could even see its ribs breathing air in and out, while attached to nothing above the shoulders. The whole surreal experience might have seemed magical, had it not been equally terrifying.