Chapter 2: Lights in the Dark

Without warning, the lights of Bula Manor came on one night. It started with just the foyer, but slowly, steadily, each and every light in the building was coming on. At first, as the lights had just started turning on, the few residents of Hapscomb who had noticed just assumed that it was some kind of maintenance (surely someone had been hired to periodically check up on the place, regardless of the fact that such a thing had never happened before). But as more and more lights came on, one by one, and more and more residents stopped what they were doing to walk over to the bottom of the hill and shamelessly watch the gradual progress, one by one. From the distance, the watchers could just imagine a single person, walking back and forth across each and every lonely corridor. What this person was trying to accomplish and who was even doing it was anyone's guess, but for once, the townsfolk felt they didn't need to yap their gums about what was happening; this silent vigil was all they could do, and they felt that, surely, when all the lights were on everything would become clear in more ways than one.

For over three quarters of an hour they waited in complete silence (aside from the occasional cough or rustling of restless feet). Though the manor was big, surely it couldn't possibly be this big, many of them found themselves thinking. And yet it apparently was that big, because though it was almost impossible to distinguish the individual lamps being turned on at this point, the overall effect of it all was undeniable; the glow from the house was still getting brighter and brighter.

Then, just as sudden as the lights turning on, the front doors opened wide, allowing even more lights to dance through the slightly moist grass, the unmistakable outline of a man displayed at its center. Almost all of the observers, both young and old, immediately did their best power walk imitation to get away as fast as possible, either afraid of the silhouette itself or of the mere chance of coming off as nosy. A select, slackjawed few, whether bold, stupid or just morbidly curious, remained behind, even as the man from the manor started making his way towards the gated entrance.

In later years, the seldom few who had remained behind had been asked by friends, family, or just awed people who heard the tale at Uncle Fink's Moon Diner, to describe in agonizing detail about the man and what they were feeling at the time. Though most had exaggerated the tale into something involving a nine foot tall behemoth drenched in blood threatening to eat the chittlun (because that's what you do when you find yourself part of an honest to goodness real life urban legend, no matter how thin and shoddy the string was), but Stu Burton was always a level headed, thoughtful man who listened more than he spoke, making him the ideal man to describe to the rest of the town what exactly had happened.

"Well, I had a right start o' fear at first, believe me," he would always start the story out, no matter how many times he told it. "When he first started walkin' towards us, he just seemed larger than life, what with all the lights 'luminatin' behind him 'n all. But each step he took, a bit of that fear left me, you know? O' course, I couldn't've known't the time, but as he got closer 'n closer I just felt...well, like regardless o' ever'thing else, this here fella just had something likable about him, really. 'nd all this time I'm thinking all this, he's finally got to where we all were, and the first thing I noticed was that he seemed as confused as the rest o' us, though he had a big grin plastered all over his face, instead o' the fear most o' the faces lookin' back at 'im had. Me bein' me 'n all, I couldn't be impolite, so I held out my hand 'n said 'Stuart Burton. Pleased as punch to be makin' your acquaintance, mister...?'"

At this part of the story, everyone in Stuart Burton's audience would be deathly still and equally quiet, listening with rapt attention that was usually only reserved in Hapscomb for funerals and Jeff Foxworthy standup, regardless of the fact that everyone in town had heard the tale countless times.

"'n he said right back to me, no hesitation or thinkin' that he had said anythin' strange at all, 'Ben Hughes. Do any of you know anything about sasquatch?'"