The Six-Foot Raccoon, B.F. Vega
I didn’t believe it either,
A tale told around illicit campfires
Small sips of beer we all
Pretended to like shared between us
As the older kids told the story
“Keep food out of your cabins,
Or else the six-foot raccoon will crawl in
And you will be face-face
With the scariest beast in these woods”
We scoffed, guffawed, why would we
Fear a raccoon? Even one with
A couple of extra legs.
Weird, and grotesque to be sure
But not weird enough to
Later that night as the owls called
And the ravens yelled from the
High branches of ancient
Redwoods, I learned
The horrid truth.
A candy bar, left in innocence
On a table by my bunk.
I awoke to the sound of crunching
And rattling. Looking up into the
Moon filled night, I kept looking
Up and up and up.
The raccoon did not have
Six legs. The raccoon stood
Six feet tall at the shoulder
And it eyed me hungrily.
B.F. Vega is a horror writer and theatrical artist living and working in California's North Bay Area. Her stories can be found in anthologies from Fae Corps, Macabre Ladies, and TL;DR to name a few. She is still amazed when she is called a writer, every time. Follow her lunacy on Facebook at @BFVegaAuthor