The Magic Man
The Petry’s lived two houses away from us on Lee Road in Silver Lake Village. David Petry was my first real playmate. We did things together from pre-school days until about the third grade. Then his family moved to another part of the village and both of us got involved with other kids and other activities.
David had three brothers, two older and one younger, so there were always a number of kids at the Petry’s house. It really was the gathering place for children in our neighborhood. What helped was the fact that right next to the Petry’s was a large woodlot with huge trees, and there we built club houses, tree houses, made paths for bikes and go karts, built fires to roast hot dogs and marsh mallows, and used it as a wild playground until it was cleared to make way for the construction of a new home.
Many of our activities were directed by David’s oldest brother, Bill, and a couple of Bill’s friends. He became something of a leader and we began to think of him as our “chief”. He was also a great story teller, particularly of ghost stories. He read palms and kept a Ouija board in one of the club houses and we all used it under his direction, and with his interpretation of what its answers meant and the validity of same.
Bill’s favorite story, which he latched onto at some point, involved a mystical figure he called “The Magic Man”. According to Bill, you were in great danger if you encountered the Magic Man. He might torture you or even spirit you away so that you would never see your parents, siblings or friends again. And Bill was clear about two things: it was very important never to enter the woods alone, and it was especially important that you got out of the woods before nightfall. We spoke of the Magic Man often over a three year period.
The Petry’s back yard was secluded. It was fairly deep and sheltered by trees and shrubs on the sides that didn’t border the woods. When you exited the rear of their house and stepped off of the screened porch you immediately walked down a short, steep hill to the flat lawn. At the border of the property stood an aging crab apple tree. To the left of that, near the path where we entered the woods, was a swing set.
One afternoon in late September David and I were playing in the back yard. The day was overcast although it didn’t rain. At 4:30 or so David’s mother called him into the house for something and I told him I’d wait a while for him to return. I sat on one of the swings absent-mindedly moving it about slowly, watching my feet scrape patterns in the dirt beneath the seat. I remember the sour sweet smell of the decaying crab apples that were lying on the lawn, the result of we kids picking them and throwing them at the trunk of the tree.
Except for the sound of a few chirping birds and the slight squeaking sound of the metal chains on the swing as I moved, all was quiet. So I sat contentedly for a few more minutes. My back was to the woods.
All of a sudden the birds went quiet. Soon I heard what sounded like a gentle breeze stirring the leaves on the trees. But the crab apple tree, which I was facing, was still. As the sound grew louder I turned towards the woods. There, not thirty feet from me was what looked like a very tall man. He was standing behind some low trees and bushes and was rattling the branches, passing his hands over the tops of them with wide sweeping motions. From where he stood in the foliage I could see him only from the waist up, but I clearly remember that he appeared to be naked. He had no features on his face---no eyes, no nose, no mouth. I could see no hair on his head or body. He also didn’t appear to have any nipples or navel. Perched on his head was an enormous top hat. He said nothing but the rattling of the branches escalated to the point it became violent.
I immediately jumped from the swing and ran home through other back yards.
That night after the terror of late afternoon I slept in my parents’ bed between them. The following day I told David and Bill that I had actually seen the Magic Man and described the encounter in detail. From that time on we never spoke about him again.
© Kent Jones 2016
The Petry’s lived two houses away from us on Lee Road in Silver Lake Village. David Petry was my first real playmate. We did things together from pre-school days until about the third grade. Then his family moved to another part of the village and both of us got involved with other kids and other activities.
David had three brothers, two older and one younger, so there were always a number of kids at the Petry’s house. It really was the gathering place for children in our neighborhood. What helped was the fact that right next to the Petry’s was a large woodlot with huge trees, and there we built club houses, tree houses, made paths for bikes and go karts, built fires to roast hot dogs and marsh mallows, and used it as a wild playground until it was cleared to make way for the construction of a new home.
Many of our activities were directed by David’s oldest brother, Bill, and a couple of Bill’s friends. He became something of a leader and we began to think of him as our “chief”. He was also a great story teller, particularly of ghost stories. He read palms and kept a Ouija board in one of the club houses and we all used it under his direction, and with his interpretation of what its answers meant and the validity of same.
Bill’s favorite story, which he latched onto at some point, involved a mystical figure he called “The Magic Man”. According to Bill, you were in great danger if you encountered the Magic Man. He might torture you or even spirit you away so that you would never see your parents, siblings or friends again. And Bill was clear about two things: it was very important never to enter the woods alone, and it was especially important that you got out of the woods before nightfall. We spoke of the Magic Man often over a three year period.
The Petry’s back yard was secluded. It was fairly deep and sheltered by trees and shrubs on the sides that didn’t border the woods. When you exited the rear of their house and stepped off of the screened porch you immediately walked down a short, steep hill to the flat lawn. At the border of the property stood an aging crab apple tree. To the left of that, near the path where we entered the woods, was a swing set.
One afternoon in late September David and I were playing in the back yard. The day was overcast although it didn’t rain. At 4:30 or so David’s mother called him into the house for something and I told him I’d wait a while for him to return. I sat on one of the swings absent-mindedly moving it about slowly, watching my feet scrape patterns in the dirt beneath the seat. I remember the sour sweet smell of the decaying crab apples that were lying on the lawn, the result of we kids picking them and throwing them at the trunk of the tree.
Except for the sound of a few chirping birds and the slight squeaking sound of the metal chains on the swing as I moved, all was quiet. So I sat contentedly for a few more minutes. My back was to the woods.
All of a sudden the birds went quiet. Soon I heard what sounded like a gentle breeze stirring the leaves on the trees. But the crab apple tree, which I was facing, was still. As the sound grew louder I turned towards the woods. There, not thirty feet from me was what looked like a very tall man. He was standing behind some low trees and bushes and was rattling the branches, passing his hands over the tops of them with wide sweeping motions. From where he stood in the foliage I could see him only from the waist up, but I clearly remember that he appeared to be naked. He had no features on his face---no eyes, no nose, no mouth. I could see no hair on his head or body. He also didn’t appear to have any nipples or navel. Perched on his head was an enormous top hat. He said nothing but the rattling of the branches escalated to the point it became violent.
I immediately jumped from the swing and ran home through other back yards.
That night after the terror of late afternoon I slept in my parents’ bed between them. The following day I told David and Bill that I had actually seen the Magic Man and described the encounter in detail. From that time on we never spoke about him again.
© Kent Jones 2016