The Haunted Bridge
J.A.'s misadventure.
I’m now approaching the time where my age will cross the threshold of threescore, and I have a troublesome story that has always bothered me. It may even be a tall tale, but it has bothered me since I was a child. I don’t remember who first told me the tale, but it concerns a haunted bridge and the storyteller’s uncle who was called “Uncle J.A.” I’d have much more to say about J.A., but unfortunately all I can remember is that someone told me a story and that same person had an uncle called J.A. I vaguely recall that this person went to Oklahoma for the funeral of J.A. and that J.A. was full-blood Native American, born and raised in Oklahoma Indian Territory before Oklahoma was officially a state. More than this I cannot say—I blame age and poor memory. I can say with certainty that the circumstances that led up to the funeral of J.A. trouble me to this very day.
A professional writer would no doubt have less trouble than I do when it comes to telling a good story (or any other kind of story) with limited information. I don’t have the ability to do this: The story I’m about to tell you is short. Again, it once contained more details, but it has been many years since I first heard it. For the most part, only the main point still stands out in my memory, and it was frightening to me when I was a child. As an adult it’s still troublesome, as I have previously stated.
Uncle J.A. was walking down the highway late one night or perhaps in the small hours. He was walking along what is now Farm Road 1821, east of Fairton where the bridge crosses Oak Bayou. He was on his way to a friend’s house. They intended on going fishing together for a few days, and these men took their fishing seriously. They planned to be absent for days, running trot-lines, feeding themselves with what they caught, and eating homemade bread that they brought along from the friend’s kitchen. If they caught enough or too much fish they might return to store it in the cold closet (a storage area with one or more blocks of ice inside; they were in use before modern refrigerators were invented). If the cold closet was close to being filled, the fish would be given to neighbors or some of the poorer families in the community.
Evidently the entire area where J.A. was walking (and basically the entire county) was considered to be the stomping grounds of assorted haunts. I don’t know if J.A. was aware of such superstitions, but whether he was or not, he traveled the road. He was a fearless man, as I understand it.
At any rate, the bridge he was approaching was supposed to be haunted. This particular bridge was made of wooden timbers and it was the domain of spectral animals. The story, as I recall, was that the ghostly forms of either a large cat or a dog would appear near the bridge. As a hapless traveler approached the animal, he would observe that its height or size would increase more and more as he grew closer.
On this night, the ghostly form of a large black dog appeared to J.A. and began to growl at him. The beast had glowing red eyes and was clearly not friendly. The distinct smell of sulfur was in the air. Nevertheless, J.A. continued on his way.
The closer J.A. got to the ghastly canine, the larger it grew. Eventually it was described as growing to be “as tall as a man.” Suddenly the apparition charged at him.
J.A. was actually frightened, but he took no action. He didn’t run or yell or show any emotion. He continued to walk forward, and then the thing suddenly disappeared. He went on his way, unmolested—at least this time.
The next day, J.A. and his fishing partner were outside either preparing their gear or already on the creek bank: I can’t remember. In the process of doing whatever it was that they were doing, it was noticed that the limb of a certain tree was moving about erratically. It was thrashing about in an unpredictable manner as though in the midst of a storm. The strange thing was that there was no wind blowing and no other trees or limbs on that particular tree were moving at all! In fact, except for the dancing limb, it was a calm day.
It is at that point, so the story goes, that J.A. – who, incidentally, fit the classic stereotype of the “native healer” – focused his attention on the limb and “‘started pointin’ and hoopin’, hollerin’ and carryin’ on, and jumpin’ up and down and raisin’ @&%.’” After a moment or two of J.A.’s strange speech, the limb ceased to move. After it stopped, everything was normal and they continued on about their business.
When questioned, J.A. apparently stated that “the devil” had been behind the strange dance of the limb. I do not know if he elaborated further; that’s the end of the tale as I know it. It is left to be implied though it was never specifically stated that whatever he did or said was potent enough to scare the supernatural terror away. It has occurred to me in my later years that J.A.’s “hooping and hollering and carrying on” in apparently unintelligible words may indicate that he was speaking in his native language. English was his second language.
J.A. and his fishing partner fished the Silver Creek River and a few creeks over the next week, returning just long enough to clean an abundant amount of fish. The cold closet did indeed become quite full. Eventually there was enough fish for several families.
The friends headed out again. Depending upon their location, they pulled their boat onto the sandy shore or tied it off at the riverbank. They both had a one-person tent, and they had all the comforts of home available to them, such as they were during that time. At any rate, they were able to live quite comfortably while camping.
When the fishing trip was over, plans were made at once to do it again. J.A. refused a ride home, and once again he was out after dark. The same black dog with the red eyes gave a repeat performance and threatened him, and the same fearless J.A. walked right toward it. Just like before, the thing grew to be “as tall as a man.” At that time it seemed as though the specter was fairly harmless. If you didn’t seem to be scared of it, it just vanished.
It was cotton season in Mackenson County, and J.A. worked all of the seasonal jobs that he could find, sometimes traveling out of state to do so. He worked that entire season and saved his money. He didn’t have a wife or children to support, so he was pretty well-off for that particular time. He might (and did) buy a bottle of whiskey every now and then, but he had no real expenses and he lived rent free on land that was owned by his brother-in-law.
When the cotton season was over, it was only a matter of days before he was to set off on another fishing trip. He walked to his friend’s house, this time during the day and without encountering any spooks. Once again, they began to prepare for their trip. This time there was no violent limb-shaking. They prepared their gear, their trot-lines, and got the boat ready. Finally, they seined a small pond for bait, and they were ready to go.
The fishing trip was just as successful the second time around. The men were well fed and caught many fish. They had especially good luck with the trot-lines, and they caught a great deal of what promised to be delicious catfish. Time seemed to fly, and before they knew it, it was time to return to civilization. J.A. stayed the next night at his friend’s house, and then departed late the next night.
J.A. never made it home. When he did not return when he said he would, his sister was worried, but decided it was too soon to raise the alarm. When he didn’t return the next day, she and J.A.’s brother-in-law got the team ready and took their wagon to search for him. They knew the history and the mythology of the land, and J.A.’s sister was highly thought of as someone who was knowledgeable in natural medicine, just as J.A. was. She knew all the county stories and tall tales about ghouls, ghosts, hobgoblins, and so forth. She would later confess that she had been very frightened and concerned for her brother because he confided in her and had told her about his otherworldly experiences with the ghostly dog. That type of thing, she said, was “not to be messed with.”
They found J.A. around noon on the side of the road about 10 feet away from the bridge. It was obvious, from his condition, that he was no longer alive. J.A.’s sister took the wagon back to Fairton, and his brother-in-law stayed behind with the earthly remains of J.A. J.A.’s sister, in Fairton, was fortunate enough to encounter a traveling pressman who was on his way to Clarkston. He volunteered to summon the sheriff once he arrived in town.The sheriff arrived at the site with Mr. Tom Desh, the county coroner. It was evident that J.A. put up a terrific struggle, for he still gripped his large hunting knife in his hand. The cause of death was determined to be an animal attack. Since there are no wolves in the county, it was stated that J.A. was set upon by either a band of coyotes or a pack of wild dogs. The giant man had been overpowered by something and literally ripped to shreds.
I wish I could remember who originally told me this story, for it has troubled me for years, and now particularly so. The roads in the county are so much better than they used to be, and we have modern automobiles. We have electric cars! In my lifetime we’ve even gone to the moon and beyond. I have a sidearm. I could be armed with a machine gun within 30 minutes. I have cameras. It might take 30 minutes to drive out to the Oak Bayou bridge.
Demonic black dogs. There are horrible things in this world, and then there are those who seek out that which is horrible in order to make it tremble. So be a monster. Be a nightmare. Do as you please: But always look over your shoulder, for an even greater monster may come for you.
It would be so easy to park about a mile away from that bridge and retrace J.A.’s steps. I have friends and associates that would almost certainly want to tag along. Most importantly, I now have years of experience. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to give in: I want to see that black dog. If the story is true and it is there, I want to be the one to put it down.
The End.
© 2023-2026 Ren Adama
