Today was the day! The day I have been waiting for, the day I find the Jersey Devil. You see to me this was kind of a game. If you compete in this race and win, you get eternal glory, if you were to lose, you’d be mocked even after you died. As the story goes the Jersey Devil was born on a stormy night in house number 666. This woman, also called Mother Leeds, had a plethora of children. That night she was to give birth to the thirteenth. After many hours of labor the issue of survival came to Mother Leeds, she screamed out “Let this one be the Devil!” The child was born and looked normal until about an hour after birth the child grew horns and wings. Before it bustled up the chimney it killed all twelve children. The creature I was challenged to search for is described as locals say to have two cloven feet it stands on, wings, a long neck, a head much like a horse’s, and emits a weird human sounding cry. It had taken me a month to negotiate with my employer to fund my trip to New Jersey. My other co-workers defended me by stating that if we found it, we could resolve our money problem. After a month of arguing I convinced him to allow me to go on one condition, I must transport myself. Now as I prepare for the journey a thought came to me, What if I don’t make it back? The Jersey Devil can be vicious according to others.
What’s going to happen if . . . if I don’t come back? I thought as I neared Pine Barrens Forest on my cherry red Harley. I’ve encountered many things, too many to count, and now I was so tense not even the radio could sooth me. I conversed these thoughts in my head as I headed through the dirt road to the Leeds house. Shutting off the motor I stared up the path at the broke down house with a brick wall around it. Near the rusted wrought iron gate there were those three numbers, 666. This is the place. I battled with myself, part of me wanted to go in, another said to listen to the park ranger and wait until morning. I opened the gate shuttering upon what horrors may await me. The house was made of wood; very damaged wood after two hundred years of neglect, a faded green trim lined the roof where many shingles were missing. Crunch, crunch, crunch, I heard as if someone were following me. The wind howled as a storm fast approached. I was opposed to going in that house until I heard that odd human like cry and the sound as if something with hooves was running at me. Running towards the house for shelter I tripped where stones were missing, but never fell. It was as if I’d been there before. I knew where everything was thus I hid in the attic. Clunk, Clunk, Clunk, it was agonizing hearing it come closer up the stairs and not able to do anything. As a scientist, I pulled out my knife to slice the flesh for samples and a tranquillizer dart, since it was an animal, to be able to take samples. Then I saw it, it’s hideous face filled with pores and bumps, then it’s horns, about three inches long, it opened its large razor sharp tooth filled mouth and made that odd sound again. I threw the dart, hoping those years of practice on aiming helped, and waited. After an eternity of the stupid thing walking around looking for me, it fell to the ground. I knew it was asleep because it snored as if it were human! I cut a small piece of its arm and collected blood as a doctor would if you had, say, cancer.
With my samples in the saddlebags on my Harley I drove for hours, not knowing where to go. Eventually I decided on a small bed and breakfast near the state line.
There was a kind, elderly man there that ordered me food after seeing how dirt coated I was. Even though it was midnight he was interested in my story. I only told him half of it seeing as I didn’t want him stealing my samples. Wishing him a good night I headed up the stairs to the room I paid for.
“Good.” I murmured to myself; when I found that my samples were still in the bags. On the drive home I concluded my search. No one was on the road so I did a joyful swerve over the famous yellow line. I glanced up at the sky and saw him again, just flying. Enjoying his freedom. It dawned on me; he wouldn’t have that if I turned in the samples. I pulled over seeing him land in front of me. I wasn’t scared this time though, he wouldn’t hurt me now. I dug through my saddlebag and found the samples and a lighter. Laying them in the ground I set them on fire, enjoying the burning, just happy that he’ll be happy.
No one has seen me or him since then. Many believe I died, that he killed me. What do you believe?