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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

Cause fear.

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

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