"Patricia Matthews - Goatman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matthews Patricia)

Some writer came out here and talked to people . . ."

She turned away from Moira and walked to the back of the room, where she
pulled
out a large drawer from a tall, dark cabinet.

"Here it is." She unfolded a yellowing paper, and pointed to an article on one
of the inside pages. Moira took the paper and held it to the light. Conscious
of
the smell of the dust, and of Mrs. Fairchild's watchful appraisal, she read:

"Baltimore, Maryland, Aug. 25, 1974: The people who live in the deep forest
find
it easy to believe in things that city dwellers scoff at. Take the case of
Goatman, a very real entity to the folk who live in Prince Georges County,
Maryland, a secluded land where myths still live.

"Last week, Toller, a blue tick hound belonging to Bill Wheeler, was found
horribly mutilated at the edge of the Wheeler property, which adjoins the
forest. Old Toller is only one of the five dogs whose deaths are credited to
the
mysterious creature known as Goatman.

"What does Goatman look like? The accounts vary considerably. Some say he's
about the size of a man, with legs like a goat, and the torso, head and arms
of
a man. Others say that sometimes he walks upright, and sometimes on all fours,
and is entirely covered with long hair.

"Some say that Goatman is a man, or least he once was a man. A scientist at
the
nearby Agricultural Center, who has experimented on goats, believes that this
man went mad, and ran away to live in a hut in the woods.

"At any rate, whatever Goatman looks like, if you have occasion to go walking
in
the woods around Prince Georges County, you had better walk softly, carry a
big
stick, and maybe a bag of garlic around your neck."

Moira rolled the images over in her mind. Of course the stories had to be
apocryphal, but the concept was intriguing; and here, where the forest loomed
and houses could be a mile or more apart, easy to accept. She had always felt
that forests were magical, possessed of a life not visible to ordinary humans.
Standing beneath a great tree, listening to the wind whisper in its branches,
how could you not feel that the tree had a life, a spirit, a soul?

Forests and woods had always fueled imagination. Perhaps it was a human
response
to that which reminded them of their old connection with the earth and nature,