The Old Man and the Cereal Box

“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years,

but one night, a candle burned in the window.

The sun burned hot and bright as the summer’s peak drew near.

Old man Crowley seeks out his lost wife in sorrow.

A man whose grief brings even the devil to tears,

Old man Crowley roams the dark wood seeking his widow.

Remember, despite all worries and all fears,

That Old Man Crowley is nothing more than a shadow.”

A middle aged man with a well-kept beard and thick brown hair in a man bun, having delivered this tale of love from beyond the grave, stared dramatically at his audience of two. The young teenage girl and teenage boy, mouths agape stared emptily at the man.

The right front tire of the bus found a pothole, jarring the look of mortal terror from his face.

“That’s it?!? That is so lame, Dad. I’ve seen scarier Disney movies.” said the girl.

“No joke, Penny.” agreed the boy, adding

“The ingredients list on a cereal box is more terrifying than that. You need to up your game, Mr. Lloyd”

“And Jack would know about cereal. He eats a TON.” Added Penny.

The teenagers chuckled.

The rebuffed father just shrugged, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. They say Old Man Crowley gets pretty miffed when he gets interrupted looking for his old lady.”

“Geez, are we there yet?”

Mr. Lloyd, peered out the window impatiently. A rare flickering of sunlight, having pierced the clouds and the towering wall of spruces, red cedars, and Douglas firs, danced across his face.

“Dad…that was not scary at all. It didn’t even make sense. Did you just make it up?” asked Penny.

He looked at Penny like she had just accused him of stealing.

“Did you notice how it rhymed? Could I do that on the fly?” He replied.

“Good point, but what about…” Penny began to say when Jack cut her off.

“How is his wife a widow if she’s married…to…him?” he trailed off, realization washing over his face.

“Don’t answer that,” he added quickly, he must have seen the “duh” look on Penny’s face. “she’s his widow because he is no longer among the living. Thus, he is a ghost, which is why this tale is so terrifying.” Jack said tepidly. “Here’s a tip – if you’re going to tell a ghost story, make sure you mention a ghost.”

“I find your lack of faith disturbing.” Mr. Lloyd responded in his best Darth Vader impersonation. At least he didn’t pinch his thumb and forefinger together this time, thought Penny. “What about how the cabin had been abandoned for years? Then a burning candle appears in the window? Sounds supernatural to me." Mr. Lloyd retorted.

“Is this cabin in the forest we’re headed to?” Penny asked.

“Sorta, I think we’re sticking to the Quinault Loop trail, and maybe hiking east to the Upper Gatton Creek Trail. The cabin is to the northeast, in the middle of Camp Bob Wilderness.”

“So, you have seen it then?” asked Jack skeptically.

“Does it rain all the frickin’ time in Aberdeen?” he said, responding with his typical “yes, obviously” answer. “I was a Bobkitten once too you know, and we took the same field trips. On my 8th grade trip, we started at the Colonel Bob trailhead and hiked to the south for a while, then doubled back. At least, that’s what everyone else did. Dr. Purser, our biology teacher, turned the group around at the appointed time. My buddy, Eric, and I decided to continue on, to take a field trip of our own. Earlier in the hike, Eric saw a path through a gap in the foliage. We slowed until the rest of the group was well out of range, then slunk through the gap and our adventure began!” he declared jubilantly.

“How long did it take you to find the cabin?” Penny inquired.

“not long, 30 minutes maybe…”

“Did you go inside the cabin?” queried Jack, utterly consumed by the tale.

“We were about to, then Eric said ‘weird… there’s a candle burning in the window.’ I had my head down rifling through my backpack trying to find the camera I thought I packed, so didn’t see the candle.”

Mr. Lloyd demonstrated the searching process, rifling through an imaginary backpack in the empty space in front of him

He paused provocatively.

“Then...” Jack and Penny said simultaneously, bottoms on the edge of the green vinyl bench seats.

*CHEEEH* the bus hissed to stop in front of an office structure nestled among the forest.

Jack and Penny nearly fell off the bench they shared as the bus lurched to a complete stop, but they were saved thanks to sticky green vinyl, high humidity, and shorts. The bus came to a stop in front of a two-story Craftsman-style house with weather-beaten yellow siding, a wrap-around porch, and a poopy brown thatched roof. A brown sign adjacent to the front door read “Quinault Ranger District Olympic National Forest”. A doghouse dormer – the architectural equivalent of the all-seeing eye – seemed to keep the immense forest from encroaching upon the station.

Jack and Penny were so transfixed by the tale of the candle in the window that they missed the first part of the field trip guidelines announcement from Mr. Mobley

“… reception is pretty unreliable up here, so the Quinault office will be providing the chaperones and me with walkie-talkies.

That is just a precaution. I know that NONE,” he yelled, peering wide-eyed at Joseph Armijo, Miller Junior High’s resident rabble-rouser,

“of you would be so misguided as to wander off on your own.”

Mr. Mobley smirked. A murmur of token laughter slowly came and went.

“And don’t forget, you will be gathering information to include in a brochure promoting a trip to this rainforest. You’ll probably want to identify at least four different types of trees, at least four types of flora, and two species of insect.” He put on his green bucket hat and turn towards the bus door before turning again to say, “Oh! And it would behoove you to listen very closely to the ranger’s spiel about dams and hatcheries. Let’s go ahead and unload and go inside for orientation.”

They unloaded and milled into the station. They were led through a wood-paneled lobby covered with paintings of trees, rivers, mountains, salmon, and the other natural wonders of Olympic National Forest.

Off the lobby, there was an amphitheater with tall, terraced steps covered with rugged, coarse carpet. The students were instructed to find their groups and sit down. Mr. Lloyd raised an arm and proclaimed, “Mr. Lloyd’s group meet here.”

About five students moved into Mr. Lloyd’s orbit. Mr. Lloyd and his satellites, now a complete system, transited to an open space on the left side of the stage and sat down.

“Then what happened, dad? Did you see Mr. Crowley?” Penny nagged quietly.

“Yeah, did you find his widow?” asked Jack.

“I thought my story was, like, so lame, and doesn’t even compare to a box of cereal.” Mr. Lloyd replied mockingly.

Jack and Penny’s eyes met, a look that communicated a shared understanding of the situation. Penny turned to her dad, “Yeah, it was soooo lame, but you can’t leave us hanging, bro.”

“Yeah, don’t leave us hanging, bro!” parroted Jack.

Penny’s dad shrugged, “fair enou…”

“GOOD MORNING, BOBKITTENS!”

A burly man with a perfect hairless orb atop a tree trunk for a neck burst into the room.

The crowd murmured something closer to “goob arning” in response.

The statue of a man shook his head. “That’s not going to work, bobkittens. How do you expect to make it in high school next year, as bobcats?”

He reached down and raised his arms as he took a deep breath and verbally assailed the group.

“GOOD MORNING, BOBKITTENS!!”

The response was mostly unchanged save for a more obnoxious, guttural “GOOD” from Joseph Armijo and more volume from Mr. Mobley. Mr. Mobley learned from previous encounters with this ranger to respond with gusto so they could move on.

“That’s more like it!” he wasn’t yelling anymore, but he was no less intense.

“We’ll make bobcats out of you yet! My name is Charles Roast, but I go by “Ranger Chuck”. I will be guiding the excursion today. A few things to remember…”

Ranger Chuck went through a protracted list of dos and don’ts – DO pick a hiking buddy in the case that one gets lost, DON’T wander off the trail, DON’T leave trash in the forest… and so on. Finally, “DO have fun and learn something new today.”

“Are there any questions?” This seemed less a question than an order. Even still, the students only scanned the room dumbly, hoping that someone else would ask a question.

Finally, after a long and unsettling pause, a hand inched its way skyward. It was Jack’s. Ranger Chuck pivoted to face the questioner and bobbed a meaty digit at Jack. “Carrot top, what’s up?”

“Will we be entering Colonel Bob Wilderness?” Jack inquired. “And my name is Jack, please don’t call me Carrot top…”

Ranger Chuck put up his hands palms out, “I meant no offense, young Jack. And no we will not be going into Colonel Bob Wilderness.” The question seemed to take the edge off Ranger Chuck’s abrasive speaking style.

“Why?” Penny blurted.

“Well, young lady. Colonel Bob Wilderness is quite a hike, and…” Ranger Chuck paused.

“And…” echoed Penny.

“Uh, it’s a long way and there are more hazards,” he replied dismissively. “And we don’t need anything to get in the way of fun, do we Bobkittens?” He quickly got back to character into rally the group.

“WHO’S READY TO DISCOVER THE WONDERS OF NATURE?” Ranger Chuck was back at an 11.

A tepid affirmatory grunt oozed out of the group.

“Students, line up behind your chaperone. Chaperones, follow me.” Ranger Chuck decreed.

Ranger Rick led the procession out a side door directly to a trail into the Quinault rainforest.

Having been in the air-conditioning of the orientation, stepping out into the temperate rainforest environment was about the same as stepping through a wall of warm water.

As soon as they stepped out the door, Penny and Jack assailed Mr. Lloyd about the cabin. “Okay, dad. You were saying?” said Penny. Meanwhile, Ranger Chuck started pointing out the different kinds of trees and how to tell the difference.

“This again? Do you really want to know that badly?” replied her father, exacerbated.

“You don’t leave people hanging like that, dude. I think that is in the Bill of Rights.” Jack asserted.

“Yes, I believe that is amendment number 7… Really? Well, if it’s that important to you, here’s what happened.” Mr. Lloyd began, lowering his voice.

“Eric mentioned something about a candle burning in the window while I try to dig out the camera that I thought I brought along.”

Dramatic pause.

“Then suddenly,”

Dramatic pause.

“Eric starts screaming and clawing at his eyes.” Mr. Lloyd scratched at his own eyes and unleashed a hushed scream.

Dramatic pause.

“I looked up at him and before my very eyes,

Longest dramatic pause yet.

“His entire face melted off, starting with his eyeballs…” He ran his fingers down his face to simulate the gory scene.

Penny slugged her dad on the bicep. “Dad, you’re such a jackwad!”

“Hey hey now! I’m the one who witnessed my best friend's face melt.” He smirked and rubbed his bicep.

This got the attention of Ranger Chuck, “Excuse me! Would you like to be in charge of this tour? Do you have 15 years experience as a park ranger? Are you certified with the National Wildlife Association? Do you…”

Mr. Lloyd threw up his hands, “Just got a little carried away. Won’t happen again, sir!” he saluted sincerely, but it was obvious that he did not know the proper technique.

Mr. Lloyd didn’t have much to say after that. He kept his head down and his mouth shut. Jack used the opportunity to sell Penny on the idea of going off the trail to look for the cabin.

Penny was hesitant “There is no cabin Jack! He was making it up the whole time!” she whisper yelled. Jack slowly shook his head, “Yeah, he made up the melting face part. But what about the poem? Do you really think he made that up? And what about the way the guide answered my question about Colonel Bob Wilderness being too far and a ‘hazard’,” he made air quotes with his fingers. “Not exactly a stone-cold denial.”

She softened up a little bit at that, but she was still unwilling to go. “How far do you plan to go?”

He shrugged. “Not far. If nothing else, we will find some unique life forms to include in our brochures.”

“How are we going to slip away?”

“Dunno. We will probably run into an opening in the brush sooner or later. I’ll say that I dropped my notepad. Then you volunteer to come help me look, saying that it will be hard to find in all this foliage.” Jack explained.

“Not bad, Jacky boy. I’m impressed.”

The group continued down the path, Ranger Chuck did his spiel about the pros and cons of hatcheries and the notion that the necessity of the dam on the Elwha River was debatable. All the while, Penny and Jack kept their eyes peeled for a clearing. Jack was more willing to see a small gap in the ferns and devil’s club as a path leading off the trail.

Despite her earlier acquiescence, Penny vetoed every candidate. Then, Ranger Chuck announced that they would stop to eat at a designated picnic area just up ahead, and then turn around and head back to the station.

Jack pulled Penny aside “It’s now or never, Pen. What’s it going to be?”

She sighed and looked over Jack’s left shoulder and yelled “Dad! I think I left my notebook on the stump where I was taking notes about the Sitka Spruce. Jack and I are going to go back and look for it.”

“Okay, Penners. Watch out for old man Crowley!” he joked.

The other students in the group eyed him suspiciously.

“Now what? We don’t even have a path picked out.” whined Jack.

“Chill out, dude. We will just go back to the last opening that you pointed out.” Penny replied.

“That one? I really didn’t like that one. I only suggested it to wear you down.” Jack admitted.

“Ugh!” Penny rolled her eyes. “Do you want to go or not? You said yourself ‘it’s now or never, Pen ’” Penny did a very crude impression of Jack.

“Okay, lead the way.” he gestured down the path.

Penny did an about-face and began walking back down the trail.

They came to what may have been an opening to another trail but had since been swallowed by the foliage. They slid past a few ferns and ducked under some hanging moss. It certainly wasn’t like the trail they came from with its drooping moss, low-hanging branches, dense devils club, and ferns, not to mention an abundance of spines, but there was a flat expanse; a path into thicker foliage.

Penny turned and grabbed Jack by the shoulders. She looked straight into his eyes, “Jack, are we sure about this? We can still turn around, no shame.”

Jack moved his arms up and placed his hands on Penny's shoulders, “Penny, friend. Yolo…”

Penny shook her head, “Dude, you’re such a nerd.”

The canopy was thicker on this path, making it much darker than the Quinault trail. It also made the air heavier and more stagnant.

After stumbling for a third time on an exposed root, Jack produced his phone and used it as a flashlight. Penny did the same.

They walked and stumbled along for about 15 minutes before Penny lost her nerve. “There's nothing up there but more trees. This is pointless! We should go back.” she proclaimed.

“Let's get past that red cedar. If the path is unchanged, we’ll go back.” Jack pointed to a giant tree that was a shade brighter, with thicker needles than a typical Christmas tree.”

“Okay, fine…” she sighed exasperatedly, but with a noticeable tone of relief. She ran in front of him, looked him straight in the eye and said “Do you promise you'll turn around with me if there's no change in the path up ahead?” with every syllable of “do you promise”, she jabbed her bony finger into his breastplate.

Jack stuck his hands up, showing Penny his palms, sighed slightly. “Pen, if we don’t find anything beyond that cedar, I'll go back with you…” he replied earnestly.

Just as they reached the tree, Jack heard a rustling in the shrubbery behind them, followed by the soft pitter-patter of footsteps.

He stuck his arm out in front of Penny, halting her. “Did you hear that? Sounded like footsteps…

“Nice try, Jack,” she said dismissively. “Look, the path goes on and on into an endless forest. Let's go back.” she took a step back then pivoted to turn around and collided with something directly behind her. She fell to her bottom. Slightly dazed, she looked up…

Standing over her was…

…her father.

‘Dad!?! What the…” she blurted, equal parts confused, relieved, and fearful.

Mr. Lloyd cut her off, “NO, NO! You don't get to be frustrated with me.” he barked.

“Have you been following us the whole time, Mr. Lloyd?” inquired Jack.

“No, Jack. I just had a suspicion after it took more than ten minutes to find a notebook with a yellow robot chicken thing on the cover.” Mr. Lloyd explained.

“Not ‘robot chicken’, dad. That’s Nightmare Chi…” began Penny, aggravatedly.

“Really, kid? The name of that abomination is not the issue here. I’m more concerned about you running off on an uncharted trail in the middle of a forest. It’s my own damn fault for telling that story…”

Penny stood up, “so you admit it! The whole thing was a lie?” she spat, advancing on her father with every word.

“Of course, I made up all that about the melting face, we watched Raiders of the Lost Ark together, but the rhyme, the rh…”

“Zelda? Zelda have you come home?” said a distant, oddly resonant voice.

“Please say that’s the guide looking for a video game cartridge,” said Jack, voice trembling.

“…” Mr. Lloyd stammered.

“Dad, please don’t tell me that the widow’s name was Zelda.” Penny implored.

“No sweat. I won’t tell you. Jack, please tell Penny that the widow’s name was Zelda.” Replied Mr. Lloyd, eyes clenched shut in disbelief

“Zelda, honey. The fire is warm, and the coffee is hot.” added the voice.

At that moment, a glowing blue outline of a man wearing a tattered tunic and highwater trousers sporting monkstrap shoes materialized from the gloom bearing a candle in his left hand.

It approached Penny, stopping before her, nearly occupying the same space as her dad.

“There you are,” it said in a very sedated tone, mistaking Penny for his beloved Zelda. “You must’ve gotten turned around. Follow me, my love.”

Penny looked at her father helplessly. He instantly sprang into action. Moving to intercept the apparition when he was overcome by the unsullied envelope of wilderness they had entered, and issued a sneeze to rival the great sneezes of the ages – George Washington’s sneeze as he crossed the Delaware, Romeo’s olfactory ejaculation from the poison he ingested when he thought that his dear Juliet had passed on; the force of which extinguished Crowley’s otherworldly flame and, as a result, extinguished the very existence of Old Man Crowley.