The Square Life

Here’s a story for the campfire. Be sure to read with a flashlight underneath your chin.

Not long ago up Utah’s American Fork  Canyon, three boys set out to meet some friends for their last bonfire of the summer. It was what they did best—an evening up the canyon, sitting around a fire, shooting the breeze, and hoping to hook up with the girls they were about to meet.  

Driving up the canyon, Stubbs, the oldest of the three, made his usual snide remarks about Durbin’s red hair. Durbin cut back at Stubbs for always flirting with younger girls.

As Durbin and Stubbs teased one another, TW just stared out of the passanger side window. But his gaze was interrupted by a sudden movement in the woods. At first glance, TW could only see what appeared to be a dog. He slapped Durbin on the side of his face, gaining both of their attention.   

“Look at this,” said TW.

Durbin sat up and squinted out the window.  

“Huh, that little feller sure can run,” said Durbin.  

Stubbs repositioned the rearview mirror and saw the large dog running alongside the car.  

“It’s a dog!” said Stubbs.

“That’s no dog,” replied Durbin.

Hovering over TW, Durbin began to roll down the window for a better look, but there was nothing there.  

“You must’ve scared it,” Stubbs laughed. “It’s that red hair of yours, the poor thing thought it saw fire and ran.”

The boys laughed and continued their banter about the non-dog until turning off the paved road and making their way to the remote area where they would meet their friends. As they neared the campsite, the narrow dirt road became increasingly overtaken by woods. They were the first to arrive.  

As Stubbs started to slow, something ran across the road in front of the car. Stubbs slammed on the brake and brought the small pickup to an abrupt stop. A plume of dust clouded over the headlights.

“There went your dog, Durbin,” TW laughed.

“That’s no dog. I think it’s a wolf or coyote. Look for yourself. It’s in weeds,” said Durbin.

Suddenly a dog-shaped head rose up out of the brush. It continued to rise until the creature was the height of a man. The boys froze. The creature looked canine but was steadily standing upright on two legs. It moved slowly toward the truck until it stood directly in front of the boys, partially illuminated by the headlights. Time froze. The creature took one step closer to the truck. TW instinctively locked the car door, but the others remained paralyzed with fear. Not even their heads turned to follow the creature as it started circling the truck, its fur brushing against the metal exterior. Suddenly, something tugged on the door handle next to TW and he flew from his seat, landing between Durbin and Stubbs.  The door remained shut. Once the boys regained their composure and looked out the window, the creature was nowhere to be found.  

Intense yellow light filled the cab of the truck, startling the boys once again. Relief followed as they recognized it was light coming from an approaching vehicle. Eager to tell their newly arrived friends of their scare, the boys climbed out of the truck, and made their way to the car.   

“Hey,” Stubbs yelled, “you missed it.”  

But there was no reply, just silence. Durbin crossed out from the glare of the headlights, only to make out that the car was empty. In a fit of panic, the boys started running, fumbling over rocks in the road.

The boys piled into their truck and huddled together—hearts pounding and unable to speak. They were being hunted.

After what seemed like hours, TW leaned his head against the window, but was disturbed by the warmth of the glass. He turned his head, looking out the window. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized he was looking square into the black eyes of the creature, just inches from his face. The door handle jerked. TW jumped up, hitting his head on the ceiling of the truck, knocking him out cold.   

The following morning, a Forest Ranger happened upon the boys’ truck. Inside, TW was  found alone. Outside there were coyote tracks everywhere in the dirt. They say TW told his story to the Ranger, then never mentioned it again. A search party was organized to find his friends, but neither Durbin nor Stubbs were ever found. But some say at night, when you’re up American Fork Canyon, you can still hear the rustle of Durbin and Stubbs running through the woods. And if fright doesn’t overcome you, you might even catch a glimpse of the upright coyote following after them.