Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Deliver Groceries To Remote Cabins—One Of My Customers Hasn't Aged In 50 Years

Episode Date: May 21, 2025

A grocery boy’s summer job delivering to remote cabins turns into a lifelong brush with an ancient evil—one only kept at bay by a small, black-and-red stone and the quiet sacrifices of those who know its price. Author: Jake Bible * * * EXPLICIT CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and graphic depictions of violence intended for adults 18 years of age or older. These stories are NOT intended for children under the age of 18. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I'm just doing this for the summer. I say as I stand on the cabin's old porch, two large paper bags of groceries balanced in my arms. My chin, sitting on top of a cereal box that threatens to escape one of the bags. Gotta save up if I want to go to state. A college boy? The young man standing in the doorway asks.

I keep expecting him to reach out and take the groceries, but he doesn't. My arms are going to start shaking soon if I can't set these down. I guess, I say, and try to shrug. without dropping the bags. My dad says a man needs a degree these days to even be considered for a decent job. A decent job, the young man says and glances over his shoulder.

Maybe I should have gone to college. nodding politely. I just keep standing here, waiting. What do I owe you? The young man asks. Oh, you don't pay me. I say and ease the bags forward, praying he gets the hint

before my scrawny 16-year-old arms fall off. I don't? The man responds, finally relieving me of the groceries. How do I pay? When you come into town next, just pay Mr. Lawrence. I reply, my arm's feeling a million tons lighter already. Pay by cash, check, or even credit card now. Isn't that something? I laugh, thinking of Mr. Lawrence trying to figure out how to put the credit card on the plate,

and then roll the carbon copy paper over it. It took him eight tries before he got it right. Something funny? The young man asks. No, sorry, I say. Not wanting to make Mr. Lawrence sound like an old man even though he is. A shiny glint of light around the guy's neck catches my eye. I squint and nod. Brewing necklace. He looks down at the necklace of Blackstones. You like this? He eyes me carefully, which starts to make me a little uncomfortable until he says,

Hold on, and disappears inside the cabin with the groceries. Pugh, finally. This is why I do this. Not for the 50. cents an hour that Mr. Lawrence pays me to deliver groceries to all these cabins way out here, but for the tips. Fifty cents an hour barely covers my gas. The tips are what will get me out of my dad's house and off to college. Here. I stare at the thing in the young man's hand.

Um, I reach out and take it. Turning it over in my hands, I study the small but heavy rock. It's pitch black with veins of dark red running through it, just like his necklace. Thanks? The young man laughs. Trust me, that's worth it. If you say so, do me a favor, will you? Keep it in your pocket whenever you're out here, especially at night.

I don't usually hang in the woods at night. You're a teenager on summer break, he says with a laugh. Isn't that all you kids do? Hang out in the woods at night? He's right, but I don't say that. He may not be old, but he's not a kid. Even if he's in his 20s, he's not one of us. the river kids. We're either working for the summer while tourists pour into the area to go rafting and hiking and camping, or we're one of the tourist kids, bored to death, because their parents

want to get back to nature or some shit like that. The tourist kids always have money and seem to be able to buy beer even if they are underage, which is pretty much the only reason why we mix. Locals and out of towners, all of us just trapped in our age and situation. Just keep it on you, will you? The young man says as he closes the cabin door. Sure, I say and back off the porch, keeping an eye on the cabin until I get to my car. I stuffed the rock into my pocket, then pray my little dots and pickup will start. It does, and I'm off to deliver the next batch of groceries to the next cabin. The young man opens the door and I give him a big grin.

It must be summer if Eddie Benson is delivering my groceries. The young man, Hal Downey, says when he sees me on the aisle. outside of his screen door. Hey, Hal. I say and step back so he can open the screen door. How are you? Same old, same old, he says and takes the groceries from me. And you?

How's college? I graduated, I say and smiled down at my shoes. Top 3% of my class. Congrats, kid, he says, and then has gone into the darkness of the cabin. When he returns, he has a crisp 20 in his hand. You can use this, I'm sure. Damn, Hal, thanks. I say. I take the 20. There's no false modesty with me when it comes to money, not with the student loans I have.

You hear all summer? He asks, and I hear a tone in his voice that makes me rub the outline of that black and red rock I always keep in my pocket. Especially after that night years ago. When that thing came for Alicia as I walked her back along the river path to her parents' vacation house, it came from out of the trees and grabbed her by her hair, dragging her back into the woods. I don't know why I did it, but I pulled that rock out of my pocket and held it up, letting the little moonlight that filtered down through the trees hit its shiny surface. There was a sudden gasp and screech and branches thrashing. I dove into the woods and found a leash on the ground, dirty and scared. Her dad called the sheriff, and a dozen deputies searched the area for whoever it was.

They found nothing. I mean, I know it wasn't a rock that scared the thing off. That's kind of crazy. But just in case, it stays in my pocket. A good luck charm. Eddie? Huh? I shake my head and smile at Hal.

Sorry. Just got lost in thought. Big brains, big thoughts, Hal says. You hear all summer? Yeah. Good, good. He clears his throat. Be careful out there, will you?

Careful? What do you mean? Well, you know what happened a few summers ago. I do. The summer after my first time, year of college. Six tourist kids were found dead in the woods. Their body stuffed up in tree branches, mutilated so badly that they had to use dental records to tell them apart. Yeah, I know. Just a feeling is all, L says, then glances down at my pocket and smiles. You kept it. I realize

I'm still rubbing the outline of the rock. Oh yeah, I did. He nods, then smiles at me. Stay safe this summer, Eddie. Sure, yeah. Thanks. Um, you too. He closes the door and I walk to my Dotson pickup. I'm uneasy and I don't know why. But I have groceries warming up in the truck bed, so I don't think too hard on it. My Dotson turns over, thankfully, and I'm off to finish my delivery rounds. Two nights later, a boy and girl slip away from their friends to go skinny dipping.

All that's found is their skin washed up on the shore the next morning, like they'd been unzipped or something. The sheriff says it's the worst thing he's ever seen in his life. He doesn't run for sheriff again when his term is up in two years. Aren't you a surprise to see on my porch? Al says when he opens the cabin door. The surprise isn't his, though. It's mine. Damn, you look exactly the same as when I first saw you,

I blurt out. I don't know why I said it. Is it true? Yeah. But usually I can keep stuff like that quiet on the inside. Good living, I suppose. I suppose, Al says with a smile on his face. But he also has that weird tone in his voice, which dims the smile's intent.

What's it been, Eddie? Six years? Close, yeah. Not to be rude. But aren't you a little old to still be delivering groceries in the summer? Yes and no, I say and hold out his bags. He takes them and sets them on the floor by the door. I bought the store for Mr. Lawrence. You did?

I didn't even know it was for sale. Well, technically, it wasn't. But his daughter called me a few months ago, saying he was retiring because of his bad health. We've known each other from all the summers here, and she knows I got my business degree at state. So she wondered if I was interested in buying the store. Lucky for her and Mr. Lawrence, I was. A small business owner. Good for you. I shuffle my feet a bit and scrunch my face.

Um, not to be that guy, but I've been going over the books. I let the sentence trail off and hope he gets my meaning without me having to say it. He nods over and over. I know, I know, I'm behind, he says. He starts to look over his shoulder but stops himself. Um, can you come back tomorrow? I'll settle up then. That okay?

That's fine. Sorry if I sound like a jerk. No, no, you have a business to run and keep afloat. Can't have freeloaders like me take you down. I wouldn't call you a freeloader, Hal. He glances past me. Where's the Dotson? It finally died.

I'm liking the Toyota better anyway. More clearance and four-wheel drive. Four-wheel is good to have around here. I nod and smile at him. I still can't quite get over how he still looks the same. Well, got to go. I say it wave as I hurry off the porch. See you tomorrow?

He laughs. See you tomorrow, Eddie. Picture this. It's late at night. You're scrolling, and suddenly you find a. exactly what you've been looking for. You add it to your cart, maybe browse a little more than head to checkout, only to realize you don't have your wallet.

But then you see it, that purple shop pay button. And just like that, you're done in seconds. That's the power of Shopify. It supports millions of businesses and drives 10% of all e-commerce in the U.S. From major brands like Mattel and Jimshark to entrepreneurs just getting started. With Shopify, everything you need is in one place, from customizable store templates to built-in AI tools that help write product descriptions and enhance your images. It also makes marketing easy with integrated email and social campaigns. And if you get stuck, Shopify's award-winning customer

support is there for you 24-7. See less cards go abandoned and more sales go with Shopify and their shop pay button. Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at Shopify.com slash dns. Go to Shopify.com slash dns. That's shopify.com slash dns. I'm real sick of this shit shopkeep. Sheriff Charlie says as he shifts his weight on the stool he's dragged up to the counter.

He lifts his coffee cup, slurps loudly like he always does, then sighs. It's like every couple of years a nightmare is let loose around here. No leads, huh? I ask, counting the till so I can prep the night's deposit. It was a good day in the store. The tourists are thick this year. Even with the new killings, the cabins and vacation rentals and second homes have stayed packed.

This time, it was a couple of migrant workers who were found butchered close to the river. I don't want to say that the tourists would have left if a couple of their own had been murdered, instead of two brown people, but I know this area. If it had been, say, the lawyer and his wife who owned the 12,000 square foot cabin over by Meeker's Bend, the state investigators would be all over this river and these woods. A couple of Mexicans here to pick berries all summer at the farm down river? Not really a concern, apparently. Shit happens.

The sheriff slurps his coffee. He sets the cup down, then looks up at me. I'm busy counting cash, but I can tell by the way he shifts again that he has something on his mind. Out with it, Charlie. I say and jot down the count before placing the cash and checks and receipts in the overnight deposit bag. He rolls his eyes at the nickname. His name is Carlos. I call him Charlie. He calls me Shopkeep. It's our thing.

What do you know about that guy up on Fire Road 18? Who? Hal? Yeah, Hal. What's his last name? Charlie knows his last name. Charlie knows every single person who lives here full-time, part-time, and who is just passing through. Charlie is a good sheriff. He's just over his head with these damn killings. Downey, I say and sigh. I haven't seen much of him lately. Now that I have one of those websites set up, most of the cabins paid through the portal.

Portal! Charlie laughs. Sounds like we live in the future, Shopkeep. He glances around the store. Looks the same as the past if you ask me. Just like how? I say and chuckle. That man hasn't aged a year since I first met him.

Really? He shakes his head. I've only seen him a couple of times. Good living, you would tell me. Must be. Charlie finishes his coffee and says good night as I finish closing up the store. With a deposit bag tucked under my arm, I switch off all the lights and lock the front door after setting the alarm. When I turn around, I nearly scream.

Hey, Eddie! Elle says, standing by one of the gas pumps I put in two summers ago. How are you? I squint into the night's gloom. That you? He sticks to the darkness and moves around the pump. What's up, Hal? You're out late.

Am I? Um, it's after midnight, so yeah. Everything okay? He doesn't answer. Hal? The river is packed this summer. Even after all these years, that Tony gets makes me shiver. No one's been scared off yet.

How so? You heard about the couple, right? The two they found. Oh, right. The couple. How sad. I shiver again. Something I can help you with, Al?

I ask as I slowly sidestepped toward my old Toyota pickup, parked at the edge of the gravel, away from the store. You need a ride or something? I can give you a lift after I make this deposit. No, no, I'm all right, Eddie. A twig snaps out in the woods on the other side of the gravel lot. I pause and stare at the trees. You still have that rock, Eddie?

Al asks suddenly behind me. Fucking hell, man! I gasp as I whirl around. His face is right in mine. His young face. Jesus, Hal. I say and step back. You scared the shit out of me.

Do you? Do I what? Still have that rock? Uh, not on me. Where is it? I keep it by the register in the store. You know, for good luck. Go get it.

Um, I've already locked up for the night. Like I said, I need to make this deposit then. Another twig snaps, then I hear a branch break. I start to look over my shoulder, but stop when Hal got. grabs my arm. Go get the rock, Eddie. Now! My mouth opens, ready to tell him he needs to chill. But the look in his eyes, even in the night gloom, is so intense that I just nod and say, Sure, sure. I'll go get it. There's a crash in the woods, and Hal takes me by the arm and walks me

quickly over to the store's front door. Now! Jesus, sure, okay, I say and unlock the door. Turn off the alarm and switch on the lights. I find the rock where it always is, next to the cash register. I pick it up and turn to show it to Hal, but he's gone. When I get back outside, there's no sign of him anywhere. The next day, a family of five is found mutilated in their rental cabin. Charlie's Daily Cup of Joe quickly becomes more whiskey than coffee when he sits and we'd talk. The cabin looks a bit worse for where, but it's still the same cabin I used to deliver to all those years ago. The Subaru's engine ticks a little after I turned it off. I got it used this summer after my Toyota finally kicked the bucket. If I knew I would be delivering groceries again,

I probably would have gotten another pickup, but hard to plan for flaky teenage hires. My girlfriend's son was supposed to be the delivery driver for the store this summer, but he ended up deciding to stay with his dad in Chicago, instead of spending the summer with his mom out here in paradise. I get it. I was young once too, and spending the summers here wasn't exactly ideal. Thoughts of those old summers fill my mind as I stare at the cabin. Hal has kept it up somewhat,

but the place has mostly succumbed to time, unlike the owner. Hal steps out onto the porch and squints against the late afternoon sun that is cutting through the trees. Eddie? He calls out, giving a wave. He hasn't aged a day.

But in a way, he does look older. While his features have stayed youth all these decades. His body seems to sag like he's been carrying a weight that presses down on him just for being alive. Hey, Hal. I say as I hop out of the Subaru and go around to the back hatch. How's things? Things are great, he replies from the porch. Can I give you a hand? And risk my tip? No, thanks, I say and chuckled. I'm kidding. Oh, there'll be a tip for my favorite delivery boy, Mel says. Can I even call you that?

Even as a joke? You're a grown-ass man. Yeah, well, sometimes I still feel like that boy. I say, hefting the grocery bags out of the back at the Subaru. Especially when I come out your way. Oh? Why is that? He asks as I walk up to the porch.

I chuckled. He only looks at me, puzzled. You're serious, I say, and set the bags down on the porch. Well, I mean, Come on, Hal. You were what? Not even 30 or so when I first met you? That was three decades ago, and you still look barely 30. I sure don't feel it, he says in that tone. The tone I've always feared creeps into his words.

He glances over his shoulder in size. When he returns his gaze to me, he looks lost. Can you bring those in for me? My back isn't young. I can tell you that. Bring the groceries inside? Yeah. Your cabin? Uh, yeah.

Is there a problem? No, it's just that I've never seen the inside of your cabin before. Really? Nah, that can't be true. It is. Not once have I stepped inside. Are you sure? Positive.

I've made dozens and dozens of deliveries and never got past your porch. Yes, well, I guess I've had my reasons. That tone again. I bend down and pick up the bags. My back isn't what it used to be either. But Hal is the customer, so I ignore the twinge as I straighten up. Let me get a light on, Al says as I finally step over the threshold of his cabin. I keep it dark so it stays cool. No AC.

After all of these hellish summers, you haven't even put in a window unit? I ask, as I let my eyes adjust. The place is immaculate, which is surprising. I don't know why I thought it would look like a bachelor pad, since Hal has never come off as a slob. Then I take a sniff and remember my thinking all these years. There's something that smells off with the cabin. Even the multiple times I stood out on the porch could smell it. Dank, earthy, rotten, like roadkill that has been buried, except for one itsy-bitsy part

that sticks out and lets it stink permeate the air. You can set them there, Hal says. and points to the kitchen counter. Not that there's really a kitchen, or a living room, or even a bedroom. Like most of the original cabins up and down the river, Hal's is basically a studio apartment. The only internal door leads to the bathroom. Everything else, bed, TV, couch, dining table, kitchen is in the single room I'm standing in. I place the bags on the kitchen counter right next to the fridge. You want me to put stuff away for you? I ask, already reaching for for the fridge's handle.

No! He almost shouts. Um, no, thank you. I spilled some milk in the fridge and need to clean it out. It's spoiled and it'll stink the place up if you open that. No problem. He stands in the middle of his cabin and tries to smile at me. I say tries because he keeps lifting the corners of his mouth,

but they just fall back down in a semi-disappointed scowl. Are you all right, Hal? I ask. Something on your mind? You still have that stone? Always, I say and pat my pocket. It's true. I never got rid of it. You ever tell anyone where you got it from? In fact, yeah, I reply.

On her first date, I showed it to my now girlfriend. When she heard how I got it and why I keep it for good luck, she said it endeared me to her. That's nice. That's really nice, Eddie. You never answered my question, Hal. Are you all right? He rubs his forehead. and nods, but it's more of a physical tick than an answer to my question.

I've been thinking of retiring. I look around his cabin. Um, from what? I laugh and he smiles, but there's no happiness in his smile. You'd be surprised how hard I work, Eddie, he says, sounding like an exhausted old man, which I guess he is, even if he doesn't look it. Retirement is good, I say. Eventually, we all have to.

to wind down. Do you think you'll wind down? I frown. How do you mean? From running the store. Probably not. I laugh. Odds are I'll die behind that register. It's as much a life as it is a business. It's kind of the bargain you make when you buy a place like that. The bargain you make, he sighs. I know all about bargains. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. After a few moments of silence, I say. Well, got a couple more deliveries before I head back. You good? He nods.

You sure? He nods again and walks me to the front door. Come by some time, he says. Maybe stay a while. I'll cook. Um, sure. Let me check with Sherry to see what evening we have available. Sherry? My girlfriend?

The woman I live with. She's been a real help with the store. She's there right now while I make deliveries. Oh, right. Your girlfriend, he pauses. I was thinking of just the two of us. He pauses again, and then is about to speak when a loud thump from behind him gets both of our attention.

Sounds like you've got a raccoon under your cabin, Hal. I say in chuckle. Want me to call the Bryerson kid? He's a savant when it comes to getting rid of unwanted wildlife. If only it was that simple, Hal says in such a low voice that it's almost a whisper. So, no on the Brierson kid? No, he says and shakes his head.

Thank you. Well, I'll see you, Hal. See you, Eddie. Matthew! I shout from the store's back room. Deliveries are ready. Um, Eddie? It's all lanky, kid.

My stepson Matthew walks into the storeroom, frowning. But it's not his usual teenager frown that he has perpetually planned. plastered to his face. What's wrong? We both decided that calling me dad would have been weird. He has a dad. I'm just the new guy in his life, even though I've been with his mom for years now.

Matthew? I prod as he hesitates. There's some guy out front who wants to speak to you. Some guy? What's he look like? I don't know. Matthew shrugs. But he smells weird.

He smells weird? You can't describe him except that he smells weird. Another shrug. Okay, no problem. I laugh and wipe my hands on my jeans. They name my chin at the rows of grocery bags I just filled. Load all these into the Subaru. Then come see me for the receipts and directions.

I can use GPS. He says as if he's the smartest teenager on the planet. How many summers have you been coming out here, Matthew? I don't know. Like 10 now or something? And has GPS ever really worked out here? Not really, no. So maybe having written directions might be handy?

Whatever. I'll take that as a yes. You do what you gotta do, he says, then points toward the front of the store. Smelly man is still out there. I'm on it. I walk out of the storeroom and am surprised to see Hal standing by the counter. I am also surprised at how Haggerty looks. He's always been so youthful.

Now he just looks his age. Old. And Matthew is right. He does smell. Al? I walk around the counter to the register and give him a big smile. This is a surprise. I think I've only seen you away from your cabin like once ever. The thought of that night, when he told me to go get the black and red rock from inside the store, fills my head. I think it over for a second and realize I'm right.

That was the only time I'd seen him away from the cabin. I've made a mistake, he says. His voice raspy and hoarse. He coughs hard, and it is a thick, wet sound that rips itself up from his lungs. And I suddenly know what the smell is. Rot. Hal is rotting from the inside out. What mistake?

I thought I could control things. He continues, almost as if I'm not there. I thought that maybe I could take a break. Maybe I could stop things from progressing. I'm getting old, Eddie. He hacks and coughs for a few seconds. bringing a bandana from his back pocket to his lips. Even though the bandana is red,

I can see darker red speckling the material when he pulls it away from his mouth. Have you seen a doctor? I ask him, genuinely concerned. He chuckles. I'm long past doctors, Eddie. Long past. He coughs some more than takes a slow, deep breath.

The rattling and crackling in his lungs echoes throughout the store. I'm glad it's a slow afternoon. Something about this interaction tells me that this is a between me and Hal only. All loaded, Eddie. Matthew shouts from the storeroom. Be right there. I call back and return my attention to Hal. What do you need, Hal?

You came in for a reason. What's the reason? I need to give the cabin away, but I can't. You're finally going to sell? No, no, I can't sell it. There's no deed. Never has been. I have to give it away.

No deed. That's not possible. Every cabin has a deed. They started doing that after the Great Depression in order to make sure people were paying their property taxes. Yes, I remember. What do you mean? Nothing. Nothing. My cabin doesn't have a deed. It was exempted for reasons. He doesn't elaborate on the reasons. Okay. Um, well, I'm sure you can find plenty of people to take it off your hands. Real estate up and down the river is at a premium. I don't think there's a free lot left anywhere, so I know someone will snatch it up from you as their new vacation cabin. No, it has to be someone willing to live there. Yeah, that's a pretty big ass, Cal. No one is moving out here to live year round. It's only part-timers and vacationers. You live here full-time. Yeah, but I have a house, and a wife, and a business.

Your cabin is a little far from the store, and, no offense, it's small. Sherry would never want to leave our place and move into a cabin. We have a place right on the river. No, of course, of course, he says in nods. He shuffles about a bit, then looks off in the distance. What about your friend? The former sheriff. Charlie?

Charlie? Um, I don't know. He pretty much stays to himself now. especially after all the years of, well, you know. I stop without explicitly mentioning the multiple unsolved killings that have plagued the area. I know, he sighs. I sure know. Then he starts off on another coughing fit.

Eddie! Be right there, Matthew! I should let you go, Al says. But before I leave, could I have Charlie's address? I can give you his phone number. Al shakes his head. I don't have a cellular phone. The address will be fine.

I'll go see him now. To give him your cabin? Yes. And all that comes with it. As a former law enforcement officer, I believe he will be well suited to handle the responsibility. Sure, you bet. I find Charlie's address in my phone

and jot it down on some scrap paper, then hand it to Hal. It's easy to find. Just make sure you go left at the fork, not right. Thank you, Eddie. You bet, Hal. I watch him go. He walks out of the store and out of the parking lot.

It's the first time I realize Hal doesn't have a car. There has never been one parked in front of his cabin. Eddie! Hold on! He's two weeks later. His body is found on the corner where Fire Road 18 meets Highway 151, lying in the ditch. There's no memorial service. No family claims his remains. I tell the county coroner that I'll take the ashes,

since I seem to know how the best. Three days after his death, eight tourists are ripped to shreds at their campsite. I ain't kidding, Charlie says. His eyes wide and a little wild when he tells me the details. He may not be sheriff anymore, but he still connected enough that he gets reports. It was like they were all put through a witschipper.

They'd stopped for a bit, I say, refilling his mug with coffee. Kind of strange, it's happening again. Yeah. I wait, and when Charlie doesn't continue, I ask. What do you mean by maybe? He looks around the store and spots a single customer back by the beer section. Your ID better be real, kid.

Charlie calls to the single customer who quickly becomes no customer as he hightails it out of the store. We watch and laugh. I'd say his ID was not real. Agreed. Charlie double checks again that were alone. You know Hal came to see me a couple weeks ago? I don't need to answer.

I'd texted him that afternoon that Hal wanted his address. But things have been so busy with the store, and now the killings, that I hadn't had a chance to follow up with either of them. Too late for Hal, obviously. He came to see me and offered me his cabin. Charlie continues. For free. Said there was no doubt.

Indeed, I could just have it the same way he'd been given the cabin. He sipped his coffee. He said there were some responsibilities that came with the cabin, and I'd be perfect for the job. Job? Since one is getting a free cabin a job? It's what comes with the cabin that's the job. He swallows hard, and almost looks like he's going to cry. I didn't believe him when he said everything he said to me. Who would? But after these killings,

And the years I spent trying to solve all the others? With everything I know, no matter how insane Hal sounded at the time, I sort of have to believe him. Believe him about what? Charlie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a necklace made of the same black and red stones like the ones I have in my pocket right now. Hal's necklace. This will protect me, he says without explanation.

It's not the retirement I wanted, but when you spend your life protecting people, you have a hard time turning your back when shit gets real. He shakes the necklace at me. And this shit is very real. I'm not following. Slowly, like he's walking to the gallows. Charlie puts the necklace on, he says.

He wasn't kidding when he said it'd give me a new life. Charlie stands up and shakes his legs, like he's waking them up after they've fallen asleep. The front door chum. and a bunch of sorority girls who have been summering at the Lakeland place up the river come in. Their voices at full volume. Charlie watches them make their way back to the beer cooler. Fuck.

He mutters. It would devour them in seconds. What was that Charlie? I asked. Suddenly very worried about my friend. Nothing, Charlie says. He pats the counter and gives me a thumbs up. Everything is good.

Once Charlie started staying in the cabin. permanently, the killings slowly tapered off until they went from once a summer to every other summer to once a decade. I sit in the rocking chair on the front porch and watch as the sun slowly sets behind the trees. Hey Eddie, you good? Matthew asks as he comes out of the store and sits in the rocker next to me. I'm fine. You sure? He asks. Mom says you've been a little restless lately. Matthew has taken over the store now. His dad wanted him to be a lawyer and work in Chicago with him. But I guess all the summers out here rubbed off on him.

He runs things like a real pro, and I plan to sign everything over to him very soon. There's just one detail I need to make sure doesn't get missed. Are you and Ginny happy here, Matthew? I ask, pretty much knowing the answer. We love it. And Robbie, he's fine living the country life. He's 16 now. Maybe he wants something else.

Probably? Matthew says and laughs. You'd have to tear my boy away from this river, kicking and screaming. That kid was born with the fly rod in his hands. Good, good, I say. Then I reach into my pocket. I neglected to give this to you back when you were making deliveries. I hand him my black and red stone. But you got lucky, thank God.

Lucky? How? Doesn't matter. I'll tell you one day. I hold out the stone. He hesitates. Go on, take it. He takes it from my palm and turns it over and over. Why do you want me to have this? I don't.

I want Robbie to have it. I saw on the delivery schedule for tomorrow that he's going out to Hals. I mean, Charlie's cabin. Yeah, your old friend called and needs some supplies. I'm sure he does. Make sure Robbie has this stone on him when he goes out there. That way. It'll know he's protected.

It? Never mind. I say and try to laugh like it's a little joke. Just make sure Robbie has this on him, will you? It'd make this old man sleep a little easier. I know he has a million questions, but he swallows them and tucks the stone in his pocket. Sure thing, Eddie.

He says, then gets up. I'm going to do a little inventory before I close up. Good idea, I reply. Then I reach out quickly and snag his wrist. I'm not kidding, Matthew. Please make sure Robbie takes that stone with him tomorrow. I will, Eddie, I will. He goes back inside, leaving me with a beautiful sunset and my thoughts.

Thoughts like how I'd asked Charlie years ago what his responsibilities were, why he started ignoring the rest of the world. He only shrugged and said, You just keep that stone on you, Eddie, and you'll be fine. It'll know you're off limits. So I have. I may not know exactly what evil lives under that cabin, but I do know from experience that nothing touched me

as long as I had that stone with me. Unlike Charlie, I do age. I'm an old man now. It's a young person's world. And the young deserve protection too. Yeah? He asks when he pokes his head out of the door. You'll make sure Robbie keeps that stone on him, right?

Jesus, Eddie, I said I would, and I will. Good. He watches me for a moment, then shakes his head and goes back to taking inventory. I, in turn, go back to watching the sunset. Good.