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ghost stories
Scary and exciting Ghost Stories from around the World . . .

Ghost Story Title : The Damned Thing Part-2 By Brander Matthews By Ambrose Bierce


Ghost Story:

'. . . The sun had hardly risen when we left the house. We were looking for quail, each with a shotgun, but we
had only one dog. Morgan said that our best ground was beyond a certain ridge that he pointed out, and we
crossed it by a trail through the chaparral. On the other side was comparatively level ground, thickly covered
with wild oats. As we emerged from the chaparral Morgan was but a few yards in advance. Suddenly we
heard, at a little distance to our right and partly in front, a noise as of some animal thrashing about in the
bushes, which we could see were violently agitated.
''We've started a deer,' I said. 'I wish we had brought a rifle.'
'Morgan, who had stopped and was intently watching the agitated chaparral, said nothing, but had cocked
both barrels of his gun and was holding it in readiness to aim. I thought him a trifle excited, which surprised
me, for he had a reputation for exceptional coolness, even in moments of sudden and imminent peril.
''O, come,' I said. 'You are not going to fill up a deer with quail-shot, are you?'
'Still he did not reply; but catching a sight of his face as he turned it slightly toward me I was struck by the
intensity of his look. Then I understood that we had serious business in hand and my first conjecture was that
we had 'jumped' a grizzly. I advanced to Morgan's side, cocking my piece as I moved.
'The bushes were now quiet and the sounds had ceased, but Morgan was as attentive to the place as before.
''What is it? What the devil is it?' I asked.
''That Damned Thing!' he replied, without turning his head. His voice was husky and unnatural. He trembled
'I was about to speak further, when I observed the wild oats near the place of the disturbance moving in the
most inexplicable way. I can hardly describe it. It seemed as if stirred by a streak of wind, which not only bent
it, but pressed it down--crushed it so that it did not rise; and this movement was slowly prolonging itself
directly toward us.
'Nothing that I had ever seen had affected me so strangely as this unfamiliar and unaccountable phenomenon,
yet I am unable to recall any sense of fear. I remember--and tell it here because, singularly enough, I
recollected it then--that once in looking carelessly out of an open window I momentarily mistook a small tree
close at hand for one of a group of larger trees at a little distance away. It looked the same size as the others,
but being more distinctly and sharply defined in mass and detail seemed out of harmony with them. It was a
mere falsification of the law of aerial perspective, but it startled, almost terrified me. We so rely upon the
orderly operation of familiar natural laws that any seeming suspension of them is noted as a menace to our
safety, a warning of unthinkable calamity. So now the apparently causeless movement of the herbage and the
slow, undeviating approach of the line of disturbances were distinctly disquieting. My companion appeared
actually frightened, and I could hardly credit my senses when I saw him suddenly throw his gun to his
shoulder and fire both barrels at the agitated grain! Before the smoke of the discharge had cleared away I
heard a loud savage cry--a scream like that of a wild animal--and flinging his gun upon the ground Morgan
sprang away and ran swiftly from the spot. At the same instant I was thrown violently to the ground by the
impact of something unseen in the smoke--some soft, heavy substance that seemed thrown against me with
great force.
'Before I could get upon my feet and recover my gun, which seemed to have been struck from my hands, I heard Morgan crying out as if in mortal agony, and mingling with his cries were such hoarse, savage sounds
as one hears from fighting dogs. Inexpressibly terrified, I struggled to my feet and looked in the direction of
Morgan's retreat; and may Heaven in mercy spare me from another sight like that! At a distance of less than
thirty yards was my friend, down upon one knee, his head thrown back at a frightful angle, hatless, his long
hair in disorder and his whole body in violent movement from side to side, backward and forward. His right
arm was lifted and seemed to lack the hand--at least, I could see none. The other arm was invisible. At times,
as my memory now reports this extraordinary scene, I could discern but a part of his body; it was as if he had
been partly blotted out--I cannot otherwise express it--then a shifting of his position would bring it all into
view again.
'All this must have occurred within a few seconds, yet in that time Morgan assumed all the postures of a
determined wrestler vanquished by superior weight and strength. I saw nothing but him, and him not always
distinctly. During the entire incident his shouts and curses were heard, as if through an enveloping uproar of
such sounds of rage and fury as I had never heard from the throat of man or brute!
'For a moment only I stood irresolute, then throwing down my gun I ran forward to my friend's assistance. I
had a vague belief that he was suffering from a fit, or some form of convulsion. Before I could reach his side
he was down and quiet. All sounds had ceased, but with a feeling of such terror as even these awful events
had not inspired I now saw again the mysterious movement of the wild oats, prolonging itself from the
trampled area about the prostrate man toward the edge of a wood. It was only when it had reached the wood
that I was able to withdraw my eyes and look at my companion. He was dead.'

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