by Loren Logsdon

As Julie Armstrong started walking down the river road to spy on her husband’s cabin, she realized that few people know what real darkness is. We have lighted the world so thoroughly with electricity that we have lost the feeling of authentic darkness. The night was cloudy, and the few stars that shone provided no light for Julie. Of course, all of the horror movies she had ever seen came rushing to the front of her consciousness, especially her memory of the woods in the “Friday the Thirteenth” movies. Jason Voorhees could be waiting somewhere up ahead for her.

Julie was, however, a strong, determined woman, and she reached the cabin in record time and concealed herself under the stairway. She heard male voices raised in a song whose lyrics were decidedly melancholy.

“Oh, they cut down the old pine tree,

And they hauled it away to the mill,

To make a coffin of pine

For that sweetheart of mine,

Yes, they cut down the old pine tree.”

Then another even more melancholy:

“The sun is up, the lark is soaring,

Love swells the song of Chanticleer,

And I from thee my leave am taking

With bliss too brief, with bliss too brief.

How sinks my heart in fond alarm,

The tear is hiding in mine eye.

I could not leave thee though I said,

Goodbye, Sweetheart, goodbye.

I could not leave thee though I said,

Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye!”

Although Julie was not given to sentimentality, she found a tear forming in her eye. She was moved by the strong emotion in the singing.

Then she listened as the men sang “Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore,” “Kumbaya,” “Old Man River,” “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” “Maggie,” “Coming Through the Rye,” “The Leaving of Liverpool,” and “Don’t You Remember Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?”

By this time Julie was actually weeping softly. But then the men started singing military songs: “The Minstrel Boy,” “The Scottish Soldier,” and “We Are Marching to Pretoria,” except they were using the word “Peoria” and stomping their feet in step as if they were actually marching to Peoria.

“You sing with me, I’ll sing with you and so we will sing together, so we will sing together, so we will sing together, as we march along. We are marching to Peoria, Peoria, Peoria. We are marching to Peoria, Peoria today!”

Undercover of the marching noise, Julie ran up the stairs and approached the nearest window. Before she could look in, she was stopped in her tracks by the barking of a dog inside the cabin right next to the window. The bark sounded familiar, and Julie realized that Lancaster Markem had brought his good dog Bosco along. Faster than the Road Runner fleeing Wile E. Coyote, Julie scurried back down the steps and dived beneath the stairway to hide in the darkness.

The cabin’s screen door was flung open and someone directed the beam of a powerful flashlight at the darkness, fortunately illuminating a raccoon that was dashing madly for a pecan tree.

Then Julie heard Lancaster Markem say, “Good dog, Bosco. You have saved the day once again. You deserve a special treat. Boone, give Bosco a generous helping of cheese pudding. No, hold that. Give him a hamburger instead. We don’t want to run out of cheese pudding.”

Julie waited until the cabin was completely dark and quiet. Then she emerged from her hiding place and headed back to her car, softly whistling “You’ll Never Walk Alone” and wondering if Jason Voorhees was waiting for her in the willows. She imagined herself getting into the car, locking the doors, and then hearing someone cough in the darkness of the back seat. But that didn’t happen. Instead, Julie drove back to Weeder’s Clump to report that nothing unseemly or untoward was going on at the Big Sleazy River Fishing Club.

Dr.  Logsdon is the much-loved English professor who has inspired students at Western Illinois University and Eureka College for many years. He lives in Eureka with his wife, Mary, and writes a weekly story for the Woodford County News Bulletin.