I remember thinking as I peered out of the window of my bedroom through the darkest darkness I had ever known that if I was at my grandpa?s I wouldn?t be afraid. If I was at my grandpa?s I would have my shotgun and it would be loaded and I would be ready as I searched through shadows gathered for their nightly dance at the edge of the swamp. The swamp which was forever reaching out for the tired old house mama found for us to stay in until we could get back on our feet. There was something out there. There was always something out there except for the nights mama was off work or nights when it rained really hard, and those nights didn?t happen often. ?Probably ain?t nothin? but coon or possum,? mama told me anytime I mentioned whatever that thing was that stirred around in thicket along the edge swamp behind the house. Always reminding me of what Mr. Fesperman said.

?I remember ma, the swamp?s more alive in the dark than it is in the daylight,? I answered her trying to sound like Mr. Fesperman. Mr. Fesperman was the old man who rented mama what was left of his childhood home. She never mentioned how much he charged us but whatever it was, it was too much. ?Don?t go makin? fun of that old man,? she said cutting her eyes at me. Mr. Fesperman had a hole in his throat and talked through something that made his voice sound like it had passed in and out of one of those big fans old folks used to bring out when the summer heat became unbearable.

?That ain?t a possum and it ain?t no coon,? I remember thinking as I wiped my eyes and looked even harder into the darkness. Looking as hard as could I searched, wanting to see what was rustling around in the night and not wanting to see at the same time. ?Quiet boy,? I whispered into the pricked up ears of the best friend a kid could have, especially when there was something prowling around in the darkness outside of their bedroom window. I can still remember sitting there, my heart racing and holding the collar of that big dog. As I listened I found comfort in the low rumbling growl building deep down inside of him and spilling out no matter how many times I whispered for him to be quiet. ?Quiet boy, you?ll give away our position,? I explained to the old dog who had adopted me. I sounded like a soldier in those afternoon combat shows we managed to pick up with the rabbit ear antennas on our old television. The television had been left behind by whoever had lived in the house before us and old Mr.

Fesperman said it came with the house. Giving away our position didn?t seem to matter to Badge and it was all I could do to hold him. Badge was a big dog and I was small for my age but somehow I always seemed to manage. I would hold and hold and hold and when whatever it was in the woods seemed to be as close as it was going to get before it stepped out of the shadows I would let Badge go. ?Sic?em boy,? I would whisper and sic?em he would.