Timothy Kleiser

‘Round here, we have this haint we like

to share, this tale about a man

who caught a devil. Now, this fellow,

his name were Burley Leamon, he

were just a simple fellow, farming

and minding nothing but his family,

they say. They say he had a heart

of gold, but got a hatefulness

inside him. Say his neighbor killed

the youngest Leamon boy one day

in just some farming accident.

Say that’s what planted hatefulness

inside his heart. Say Burley weren’t

the same at all, not since that day.

Then some time later, he were out

some place and started home. He got

just almost home, they say, and seen

some creature creeping just beyond

the woodline, something shadowy

and ghost-like, just a-creeping through

them woods. And then it shri-eee-eked,

just shrieked as loud as anything

he’d heard before. Now, Burley, he

were figuring it’s a panther, just

some natural haint a-stalking him.

He ran on home and got his rifle

and said he’d shoot that haint if just

it came back that-a-way again.

You know, it came back shrieking just

the same. And so, that Burley, he were true.

He raised his muzzle just like that

and when he did, you know, they say

that creature took to flying like

a bird, just spread some ugly wings

and shot into the treetops like

a hawk, or just the shadow of

a hawk. Now, Burley’s scared just then,

he’s scared right cold and gets to shooting

away into them trees. And then that haint,

it shrieked again and flew at Burley,

so Burley put a bullet through

its wing and dropped it like a sack.

Now, he’s a hateful man, you know,

just packed with meanness now, and so

he went to put another bullet

right through its head, and then, just then,

they say, that haint, it spoke to him.

It said, “Now, Burley,” they say it knew

his name, said, “Burley, since you caught

me, you can have this single wish.”  

Just then, ol’ Burley knew he’d caught

a devil. It’s a devil that

will only help you if you catch it.

But Burley asked about the wish.

You know, that devil said, “I’ll kill

that person that you hate the most.”

“But,” it said, “I’ll not be killing

him all at once,” said, “here’s the thing

to do,” said, “Go on out into

them woods and walk a spell until

you come into a glade.” Said, “walk

into the middle of that glade

and there you’ll find a patch of Goat’s-Beard

a-growing near a limestone pool.”

Said, “get yourself a jug of limestone

water and pull up seven stems

of Goat’s-Beard by the roots, but pull

them right at noon, before the sun

is at its fiercest, before the flowers

close up. Then, take it all back home.”

And then that devil said, “But here’s

the trick,” it said, “at home, you’ve got

to cook it into soup and feed

that Goat’s-Beard soup to who

you hate the most. That very day,

you feed that soup to him, just there

inside your home.” That devil said,

“you do this, now, not once but three

days in a row.” Said, “every day,

you go on out and gather water

and stems out there and cook it fresh.”

Said, “feed it to the man each day.

Then on that final day, at sunset,

that man you hate will fall down cold.”

Them words that devil spoke were hard

at first, just hard to square on up.

They say that Burley roosted on

them words a good long while, ‘til just

about a, oh, about a year

had passed since little Leamon died.

But all that time, his hatefulness

and bitterness were just a-brewing

down deep, they say. They say he liked

to boil on over any time

he’d seen his neighbor in the fields.

I figure Burley thought he’d have

no rest, no rest at all inside,

not while that neighbor went on living.

Two days before the day his son

were killed, they say he called his neighbor

on over to his house, you know,

to share a pot of Goat’s-Beard soup.

He made it like that devil said.

Just like it said, he made it. Now,

the second day, he made the soup

again and called his neighbor back.

And when his neighbor came, he came

a-coughing, said, “I figured soup

would do me good,” said, “thank you, Burley,”

and shared that soup with him. But when

he left, he weren’t so good at all,

they say, not feeling good at all.

And Burley said, just to hisself,

he said, “That devil’s gone to work

already now. That man I hate

is nearing dead. Just one more bowl

of soup should do.” So, on that third

and final day, he made the soup

again and called his neighbor. Now,

his neighbor there were feeling ill

and weak, but came again ‘cause Burley

told him, “Today’s a year since when

my boy were killed. Come eat with me.”

And so the neighbor came, he came

a-coughing and a-wobbling, but

he came and sat and shared the soup.

When all were done, and Burley saw

his neighbor back on home, he weren’t

as happy as he figured. So,

he went and just a-marched hisself

on up the highest ridge to watch

the sun go down. That sun were red

as rabbit blood, they say. And just

before the sun went down behind

the farthest hill, that devil came

and showed itself again. This time,

it didn’t shriek. It didn’t make

a sound at all, they say. Just walked

on up to Burley, right on up,

and set on down beside him there.



And Burley asked it if that man

he hated most would truly die.

“He truly will,” that devil said.

And just right then, ol’ Burley shrieked.

He shrieked and grabbed his chest and fell

down cold as death. And that’s the tale.

We’ve kept that tale a-going, oh,

a while now. My uncle Harl’s

the one to pass it on to me.

Now, me to you. You know, I don’t,

suppose I don’t quite know if it’s

a lie, but I suppose it’s not.

“There’s hokum-pokum in the hills,”

is what they say. That’s what they say.