Lonesome Pine has its share of creaking porches, restless barns, and rattling shutters. But what folks are hearing now near the old church ruins is something else entirely.
Over the past two weeks, residents living by the cemetery hill have reported:
a steady, rhythmic metallic knocking, too perfect to be natural
brief flashes of pale blue light from inside the church foundation
a shadow shaped like a man swinging a square-headed hammer
whispers asking if people are “true” or “level”
and footsteps across broken stone long after midnight
Because this newspaper exists to keep the town informed, we rode out last night to investigate.
What we found was troubling.
AT THE CHURCH RUINS
The old church collapsed nearly seventy years ago.
What’s left are:
broken stone pillars
a half-fallen bell tower
scattered timbers
and a foundation swallowed by roots and dirt
The moment we stepped inside the fallen frame, the air changed.
A cold draft slipped through the stones.
Our lantern flickered.
The ground felt hollow.
Then we heard it:
CLACK.
…two seconds…
CLACK.
…two seconds…
CLACK.
Perfectly timed.
No rush.
No wobble.
Like a craftsman striking wood with purpose.
Only there was no craftsman.
THE FIGURE
Johnny spotted it first.
A dark shape standing in what used to be the altar area.
Tall.
Thin.
Holding a hammer with a square head—too large for a normal tool, but too quiet to be metal.
There was no face, just a faint outline.
It raised the hammer, waited, and brought it down in slow motion.
CLACK.
Not loud.
Not forceful.
Just… precise.
Emmy whispered,
“Is it nailing something?”
Johnny replied,
“Nothing’s there.”
But something WAS happening.
Each strike made the lantern dim, then flare blue for a second.
We edged closer.
THE QUESTIONS
When we were ten paces away, the figure stopped.
Turned.
Stood still as a gravestone.
Then a voice—not from its head, but from all around—asked:
“Are you steady?”
Wind froze.
“Are you true?”
Johnny stepped back.
“Will you stand right here?”
We didn’t answer.
The figure dissolved into dust.
The hammer hit the ground with no sound at all.
THE COFFIN
Where the figure had been, we found:
a perfectly square patch of dirt
smooth sides, like something had been pressed or built there
nails scattered around the edges
faint blue scorch marks in a rectangle
It looked exactly like the outline of a coffin.
But nothing had been inside it…
recently.
We picked up one of the nails.
It was cold as river stone.
Emmy said they didn’t look forged.
Johnny said they didn’t look hammered.
And yet someone—or something—had been hammering here all night.
THE EERIE PART
As we prepared to leave, we heard the knocking again.
But this time
it came from beneath the ground.
We tossed a rock into the square patch.
It made no sound when it hit.
Instead, shadows rose up—
thin shapes, head-like, hollow-eyed—
just long enough to make us back away fast.
We rode home without stopping.
NEXT WEEK
Several residents claim the shadowy figure isn’t done working.
Some say they’ve seen it near the ridge.
Others swear it was following them home.
And Ozthorn Highrider has been spotted again—
watching the hill
as if waiting for the hammer’s next strike.
Next week’s investigation:
On our way back from the church ruins, we came across something new near the east ridge:
a shallow hole in the earth, perfectly smooth and perfectly round — like a wishing well carved out by something that didn’t bother with tools.
We dropped a pebble in.
It made no sound at all.
Nothing fell.
Nothing hit.
Nothing echoed.
Then, just as we turned to leave, a shadow rose out of the hole —
thin, drifting, shaped like a head with hollow eyes —
and vanished before it touched the air.
We’ll investigate this strange “wishing well” in next week’s issue.
— What’s Beneath the Ridge?
Stay aware.
Stay steady.
Keep your lanterns bright.
— Johnny & Emmy
The Coyote Gazette