Gold Finger

I found a gold ring on the beach with my metal detector. It would have been cool, if it weren’t for the fact that it still had a severed finger attached to it.

Now, how I found it was a long story, and a bit cursed. It started really, back when I was just a kid. My dad and me were out on the old grid road in the old pickup truck, heading back to the Indian reserve. It was very quiet, not even jackrabbits roamed. The grid road beneath the truck kicked up dust and threw rocks and pebbles everywhere, it was a bit foggy, the headlights struggled to shine through. I remember sitting in the back seat, staring out the pale window into the night.

But that was when movement caught the corner of my eye, something large was running inside the shadowed ditch beside us, and whatever it was, it ran fast. I remember I was strangely growing uneasy, like its presence was fear. I tried to tell myself that it was probably the shadow of the truck, or an animal that’s long gone; but I couldn’t shake the feeling. Chills ran down my spine.

Our truck slowed down to cross the train tracks, and that’s when we heard it. Like a baying wolf, it echoed and the sound chilled us to the bone. Even my dad had a sense of urgency. I knew this was no coyote, for it was very close, and it sounded more… evil. The truck began to move again, and I heard something chasing us. My heart pounded, it was coming closer. My dad turned up the radio, country music played loudly.

Then it pounced.

Something large jumped on top of the pickup truck, my dad swerved, and the creature fell onto the hood, then it fell under the truck. ‘Bump!’ The truck ran it over, and we crashed into the ditch.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing my dad said to me. I checked myself, and answered “yes”. It was a good thing I was wearing my seatbelt.

We didn’t dare go outside, instead my dad called one of his friends from outside of the reserve, and he’ll come in an hour. Until then, we just stayed waiting in the truck, listening to the radio. But when my dad looked down unto the floor, searching for his phone that he just dropped. I saw something that I’ll never forget.

It stood, glowing menacingly in the headlights, it rose taller than the truck, covered in thick, shaggy silver hair. Its fur was stained with blood from the impact, but what was more chilling was its face. It looked like a woman, but its eyes were off. Like yellow embers with a pitch black centre, it stared right at me. And in an instance, it was gone.

“Don’t worry”, my dad said after he fished the phone out from under the seat, “we’ll be home soon”.

That night was forever implanted into my memory.

The next day, repairs for the truck would cost quite a bit, mostly because the insurance wouldn’t honour their deal. Though I knew what we hit, we were told that we hit a wild coyote. Because there was hair and blood on the front grill. I insisted that it wasn’t a coyote, but was a demon! Of course, no one believed me, or if they did, they didn’t want to. Now my mother was listening, and she called for me. And that’s when she first told me of the Rou Garous.

Now, if you didn’t know, Rou Garous are supposed to be these evil creatures in our folk lore, the priests told us that they’re made of all the evil and dark things of this world, and that they don’t like us catholics, and that if we stay catholic; they’ll stay away. The Rou Garous are said to be normal looking humans, just like you and me, but they change during the night. They change into creatures, like the foxes, wolves, and coyotes. Funny, how a thing like that can happen in this world, isn’t weird? They reminded me a bit like the tales my grandma used to tell me, how the full-blooded First Nations can turn themselves into animals. Unlike now, but when they did, it was quite a sight. My grandma herself can turn into a swift hare, and her father can turn into a great bear; they only did this to heal people.

Now there was this woman living with one of our neighbours; Jack Nine-Boots was his name. It wasn’t really though, we just called him that because he was the richest guy we knew. He wasn’t actually rich, not like the white people living in them big cities, but Jack was well-to-do, so much so, that he owned nine pairs of boots. He was a good man, honest, and friendly, always letting us kids borrow his boots to play in the mud or rain or fields.

The woman living in his home was Karol.

Just Karol, but most of the kids called her ‘mrs Nine-Boots’, cause’ we were sure ole Jack had taken her as a secret wife.

But my mother got really mad when we said that, she said we shouldn’t assume Jack wasn’t that kind of man, and same with the woman, still though, no-one met her, not even my mother, who seemed to always know what’s happening in town.

But this woman, Karol, was strange. And we don’t mean that meanly, but as in strange things happened when she moved in.

The first noticeable thing, was the baying of wolves. There weren’t any wolves in this south of the province, and yet we heard them. Some people tried to brush them off as being coyote calls, but the elders knew the difference, from years of experience (back when wolves were more bold, and were far more numerous in the south).

Second was the missing chickens from Frank’s farm. He complained that he used to have the best chicken coop this side of the reserve (he didn’t dare challenge McDillans farm), but they’re all getting lost; he said that they’re ‘dumb animals’ and that they probably got lost in the forest or drowned in the nearby dugout.

Third was the lack of songbirds, now, it took a keen eye to notice. One thing was that there was definitely more crows and vultures flying about. And very few or none chirps and tweets, nothing in the bush, or the tree. It was silent, mournfully silent. It seemed colder here, except for neighbour Will Hall’s potlucks, (which my mother always brought her delicious potato scallops) he was always the community spirit.

During the next few days, Will Hall had another weekly potluck — which Karol didn’t come for, because she said she injured herself with the horses — and I felt safer for a while, biting into the potato scallop. But I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

As I grew up, it just seemed colder and scarier at the reserve. We seldom walked the streets at night, for fear of anything creeping and crawling. In fact, whenever we visited a neighbour or relative and we get distracted or something that causes us to be late, we just stay the night, we’re too scared to walk in the dark.

And the situation didn’t get better, wild dog attacks were frequent around our area. And it didn’t take long for us to assume that something was very wrong. The priests just told us that it’s our fault, and that we’re sinning and all that stuff. And it’ll all go away if we made more donations to their churches, and repented. We tried that for a bit, but repenting costs a lot, and the situation didn’t seem to get better.

My cousin John and me did our own kind of investigation.

We talked about it, and of course, we kept circling back to the wretched Rou Garous.

“I’ve seen them before”, he once told me, “it was so large! I saw it eat an entire cow”. The neighbourhood kids used to say, “hey! There go’s the two loony brothers. We saw them Rou Garous you were talking about. Yeah, I saw one eat a horse!” They would tease and mock, usually with finger pointing and laughter. To get back at them, I bought ten boxes of chocolates, and ate it for lunch, and bragged. It was a bit childish, and my mother and dad would tell me “stop doing this. You need a job, go and do some work!”

And that’s what I did. I began working for ole Jack, he still had them nine pairs of boots. They’re all dusty, and old, with a few holes in them. I worked as a mechanic for his car, it was an old Porsche, dusty silver, and a sweet ride (not that I drive it…). Working with ole Jack you can overhear many things, including his conversations with Karol.

Once I was wiping down the taillights of the Porsche, when Jack and Karol were talking near the window overlooking the garage, I can hear them, but they couldn’t see me.

“You better take it easy today”, that was ole Jack’s kind voice.

“I will, I’m only going out to the city. You don’t need to worry”, that was Karol’s voice. But something was off with it, it seemed chilled, and clammy.

“But the rumours about wild dogs and stuff has got this town hushed”.

“They won’t bother me”, she replied.

It sounded sickly, I risked a peek into their window, they were eating their supper. I put my head back under, from there, I was able to hear much stuff. And continue my investigation, me and John kept notes, and soon, Karol was our main suspect. And we were convinced she had something to do with the Rou Garous, was she hiding them? Feeding them? Or was she one as well?

But we needed evidence, so my cousin and me hatched a plan.

During the next weekly potluck, me and my cousin would tell everyone that we’re too tired and decided not to go. And of course, since Karol didn’t really like company, she stayed at Jack’s house. Perfect, our plan was proceeding. Jack went to the potluck (much to the urging of Karol), he brought with him his famous chocolate fudge. Darn, I hope this was worth missing that! He doesn’t usually bring it, and he seldom bakes it.

I walked silently down the road, I brought a notepad and a bottle of water. The sun was orange, but not yet down (for no-one wanted to go home in the dark). I soon reached Jack’s house, John was back at Will’s to keep Jack busy. I crawled through the bushes near the backdoor, and slowly reached my way to the garage. If anything, I can just tell Karol that Jack sent me to check on the car.

I leaned down, as close to the window as I can. I heard Karol setting the table up, as if she was expecting company. And soon I heard a knock on the door, and I heard something went inside. I looked into the window, and saw a figure that I haven’t seen since childhood. And all of my doubts were gone, because I was staring at a real Rou Garou.

He stood on all paws, brown and red like a coyote, but its face was strangely human. He looked like a man, brown skin, and black moustache. But it had the ears of a coyote, and I was sure lucky that it didn’t have the smell of one, cause’ I was so sure that cold sweat trickled down me.

“Where were you Many-Pones?” Karol asked.

He snuffed loudly, and answered gruffly.

“I’ve been trying to catch young Mark’s sheep, but he’s got that gun of his, do you have any food? I haven’t ate for weeks.” His voice was slick and slimy, half human, and half coyote-like-gurgle. She showed him a bowl of lentil soup, and he slurped it down quickly.

“Thank you Longgrass” Many-Pones said to Karol, who indeed is named Longgrass. They began to talk to each other, I already had enough evidence that she is in cahoots with them, but just as I was about to leave, I heard something about a fortune.

I overheard through the window that she hid something, something of powerful magic — not that I believed that kind of stuff — she said it would look like a gold ring, hiding out near the beach. apparently, being the key to a hoard of cash she was hiding for Many-Pones. He wanted to know exactly where it was, and I quickly got my notepad out, and wrote down the coordinants that she said. As soon as she was done, I quickly ran to my house, grabbed a metal detector and a shovel. I called my cousin, John, and told him that I’m heading to the beach because the Rou Garous have hid a lot of money there, I then got into my car, and drove out towards the beach.

I had a short amount of time to find this money, for I assume Many-Pones wouldn’t dare go to the beach in the daylight. But night was quickly coming. The sand squished underneath my shoes, and I took the notepad out of my pocket. I followed the instructions Karol/Longgrass told Many-Pones. Ten feet from the tree with the skull carved into the trunk (why it had a skull craved into the trunk eluded me), twenty-nine feet from it to the shore, and buried underneath was the gold ring.

My shovel soon scooped sand and piled it unto a mound nearby, and that is when I found it. A gold ring, with a severed finger still attached.

The shock didn’t hit me at once, I firstly considered the gold ring, how was this a key? But when I realized that the stick-like feature attached was a finger, and I reeled back. It was old and decomposing, and I dropped it onto the sandy ground. I cursed loudly, it's not every day one finds an old dead finger. I grabbed a couple of sticks, and used them like chopsticks and picked up the ring. As I looked closer at the finger, I saw that the words 'Gold Finger' were carved across it, very peculiar.

The same uneasiness from before grew in my stomach, and I realized that it was getting late, the sun was escaping under the shore. So I pulled the ring off of the dead finger, and I slipped it on. It felt heavy, and awkward, and it began to burn. Intense pain shot across my finger, and I collapsed under the agony. I tried to take the ring off, but it was stuck, no matter how hard I pulled it, it wouldn’t budge.

I screamed in pain as I saw words slowly carve into my flesh, 'Gold Finger'. The pain then ceased, I didn’t even feel any side affects, it was silent as well. I looked around, I didn’t know how long I’ve been lying on the beach, but the sky was dark blue, and a few stars dotted the horizon. I checked my phone, 6:43 pm. I’ve been there for almost three hours. My emails had a few new messages from my cousin, I texted back, telling him that I was still at the beach.

A long coyote howl echoing in the distance froze me in my tracks. Then I heard cackling like deep laughter, I turned, and a powerful impact punched into my stomach. I collapsed again, I was so confused as pain clouded my head. Strong claws pierced my arms, as the Rou Garou picked me up, and stared into my eyes. It was the same eyes from the truck many years ago. I gasped, for I somehow knew it was Karol/Longgrass. She was covered in shaggy silver hair, her eyes changed into that menacing yellow, and her face was almost coyote like, fangs and all.

“How dare you take my Gold Finger!” She whispered with a screechy voice, it sounded similar to nails on a chalk board.

I squirmed under her tight grip, but I managed to kick her in the jaw, and she yelped with pain, and I dropped from her clutches. And I made a bolt line towards the road overlooking the beach. But Longgrass quickly recovered herself. And tackled me to the ground, she grabbed my hand, her claws sharp and painful, blood trickled down my arm. And in an instance, like giant scissors her fangs chopped my finger with the gold ring attached.

I didn’t feel a thing, I was in shock, blood stained my hand. Longgrass held the severed finger in her hand, then threw it up into the air. It didn’t fall like a normal object, it kind of stayed there in the air, hovering a bit, then fell to the earth in loops and turns. It finally fell near the road a few metres away, in the ditch. She glared at me, and took off towards the spot where the Gold Finger fell. I didn’t process all this information at once, I just sat there dazed. So dazed that I didn’t hear the gunshot. Cousin John ran up to me, he had his shotgun in his hand, “are you okay?”

I looked down at my injury, and nodded my head, “I’ll be alright, but I need a bandaid!” We both laughed, and John helped me to my feet. I noticed Longgrass’s dead body near the road.

“What happened?” I asked, John explained that as he was about to leave Will’s house after he got the text, he saw two Rou Garous run through the fields, so he got his shotgun and headed towards his house, got into his car, and drove for five minutes till’ he reached the beach. He saw Longgrass digging near the ditch, and shot her.

“Wait”, I interjected, “you said you saw two? So where’s the other one?” Many-Pones pounced from behind John, knocking his gun out of his hand. He bit deep into John’s shoulders, John tried to fight of the Rou Garou, but he was outmuscled, and thrown to the ground. I grabbed the shotgun, and pointed the muzzle to Many-Pones, the last thing I saw before I pulled the trigger was his evil stare, dark and chilling.

‘Bang!’

Many-Pones fell to the earth, still in his coyote form. He was dead. I helped John to my car, and laid him there on the passenger seat, I poured some water onto his wound, we needed a doctor. I went back outside, the air felt different. I grabbed my finger; the Gold Finger. And realized that a leather chest was partially dug up, I grabbed my shovel, and dug up the chest. Inside was nearly $3,000 dollars worth of cash! Plenty of $100 bills, and loonies and toonies, and a few bills from America.

I piled the carcasses of the two Rou Garous in the box of the pickup truck, hoping to present them to the Indian reserve. I put the chest inside the glove-compartment, and drove like mad to the nearest hospital.

Boy did I have a tale to tell, one that I can tell for generations. But things happened over the course of the next few weeks. First was that me and my cousin had to get stitches, leading to the new nickname for us, “Many-Wounds”. The doctors told us that we were lucky that the wild ‘coyote’ attack wasn’t too severe, otherwise we would have been transported to the hospital in the city. Second, we had a visit from one of the priests. He said the stories we were telling the reserve were too extreme, and that we had to give him the bodies of the two Rou Garous, so that we don’t have to be ‘burdened’ with them. And in exchange, we were given a large amount of money, $600 dollars each. With all this extra cash; me and my cousin split it equally, since we both killed a Rou Garou. The priests later got rid of the bodies, and we never heard of them again.

More change happened, the reserve seemed cheerier, birds returned, chickens and produce stopped disappearing. The air had a seemingly sweet breeze, and I never felt so much better. Everyone was happier except ole Jack. He just stayed in his house, wondering why Karol had just left him, he must have not known. He still let the neighbourhood kids borrow his boots, and they just grew more tacky, so I took some of the money I had, and bought him a pair of beautiful boots, good leather, and really nifty. He was still honest and cheery, but something was gone.

My cousin moved off of the reserve and began living in the city, he used his money to start a fast food restaurant; ‘Lucky John’s’. It was a great opportunity, and John was very happy.

As for me, I can’t complain. Still living in the reserve, and I still keep the Gold Finger, and whenever I need to find something, I just throw it up into the air, and it always fell where the object that I wanted was, no matter how far away it was. Leading many to believe that I was a powerful medicine man, the kids soon grew scared of me, cause’ they say they’ve seen me run across the fields and roads chasing a severed finger floating in the air…

(Please note: I only use the term ‘Indian’ reserve in the historical sense, and the word is no longer acceptable to describe the First Nations and Native Americans. The legends of the Rou Garous were brought to the First Nations through story exchanges with the French and English settlers. Rou Garous are also spelled Rougarous, and are similar to the European werewolf).