Glowing Eyes

My dad’s mom and dad owned a small diner along the crooked road of U.S. 52, just north of Gilbert in Mingo County. I’m not sure of the exact date, but it was sometime in the mid to late 1970s during the summer. The diner sat next to my grandparents’ house, and a lot of the local folks would hang out there to play cards, shoot pool, and listen to the jukebox. It helped that my mamaw could cook, too!

Anyway, my aunt was probably between 12 and 14 years old, and I was around 9 or 10. One night, we were playing with a ball in the spacious storeroom and had made a makeshift basketball goal. The diner was open that night, so there were people nearby.

While we were playing, my aunt suddenly stopped in her tracks and pointed toward a window that was at least eight feet off the ground. I looked up, and we both saw a pair of glowing red eyes staring at us through the pitch-black darkness outside.

We ran into the diner and told my mamaw what we had seen. She went outside to look, with us following close behind, but there was nothing there. I remember looking beneath the window, expecting to find crates, boxes, or something else that someone could have climbed on to reach it.

To my amazement, the ground beneath that eight-foot-high window was completely bare.

Decades later, I still had never forgotten what happened. My aunt now lives just up the road from me, and one day I asked her if she remembered that night. She said she did and told me she still cannot, “for the life of me,” figure out what we witnessed.

I’ve hunted and fished in this area all my life, so I’m pretty familiar with the sounds and wildlife of these mountains. I’ve only heard one scream in the local woods that I couldn’t explain. Years later, after listening to recordings, I decided it was most likely the alarm call of a gray fox.

At least, I guess it was.