An autumn chill hung in the air. Yesterday’s warm sunshine vanished like a thief in the night, chased away by a fog-laden damp breeze as it rose from the meandering river up the hill to his stately ancestral home aptly named Riverview. Today, with his view of the river obscured along with the bucolic landscape setting, he decided to take his early morning walk along the gravel lane connecting his estate with the rural town about a mile away.
He enjoyed his daily exercise in the fresh air while admiring his manicured grounds, sculpted shrubs, and colorful flowers. Fresh spring-fed water cascading over terraced falls into a garden pond welcomed him outdoors each day as he stepped onto his paved slate veranda to begin his property inspection. On his return, his long walks ended with the vista of his beloved home. No matter from which direction he approached, the Georgian architectural design of Riverview delighted his artistic sensibilities. It was a grand structure with every detail preserved to perfection. He was pleased to be the custodian of his family’s estate, left in his capable hands upon the death of his parents. An only child, he knew from an early age he would be responsible for the maintenance and conservation of this prized possession. He was fortunate to have inherited enough wealth to not only continue its upkeep but to update the estate with modern conveniences when needed.
While beginning his brisk walk this morning, he remembered a story told to him as a boy by his grandmother, a proper Southern lady noted for her storytelling ability. He never doubted the veracity of her story, but thinking about it today, he was not sure he was as convinced. He remembered the story concerned a stranger drenched by a late autumn tropical storm who arrived by boat at the nearby town wharf. The man and his dog slogged to the River’s Edge Inn to seek lodging until the storm subsided, but the inn was full except for a small attic room. The innkeeper later said that he didn’t get a good look at the man’s face because of his rain-soaked hat and clothes and the man’s concern for his dog. The stranger insisted his dog be fed before he went to his room to change his clothes and was served his dinner. The innkeeper fed the copper-colored dog who had sad eyes, droopy jowls, and long ears. The dog finished eating and clomped up the stairs behind his master. The innkeeper set the table for the stranger but he never returned for his dinner, and the innkeeper went to bed.
During the night of October 30th, the storm intensified. Rain splashed in knots against the roof like a hammer pounding nails. Whipping winds opened shutters, rattled doors, and shattered glass panes. Occupants of the inn imagined they heard a dog howling but decided it was the wind whistling through the eaves and went back to sleep. The fire in the hearth burned out and by morning, after the storm moved north, the outdoor temperature dropped at least twenty degrees. The innkeeper heard scratching at his bedroom door. Groggy from being awakened by the storm several times during the night to make hurried repairs, he shuffled across the floor. He opened the door and the stranger’s dog slumped forward, dead. Alarmed, the innkeeper wondered, as he trudged upstairs, how the stranger would respond to the news about his dog that he seemed to pamper. He was shocked to find an empty room. The inn and town were searched but the stranger was not found, and his wooden boat remained moored albeit battered and splintered. The innkeeper, with the help of town folk, buried the dog in a grove of trees on what is now Riverview property. Each year on the anniversary of that tropical storm, people in town say they can hear the hound dog howling for his lost master.
Yes, he thought, grandmother could tell a tale to little ears who believed every word. He rounded a turn in the tree-lined lane and the fog intensified. Soon he could barely see anything but he could hear his footsteps scrunch the gravel. He thought he should retrace his footsteps. Then he felt a presence near him when out of the fog an eerie, frightening howl exploded through the trees. Aghast, he almost lost his composure. He spun around toward the terrifying sound. In an instant, he realized he was about to become part of the Legend of the Howling Hound.
