PARANOMARL PUB - FARMER'S REVENGE - A GEORGIA TALE OF TERROR

 Marion Pellicano Ambrose

A good friend of mine moved to Georgia when her husband was offered a huge promotion. She and her girls didn’t want to go, especially when they were going to have to live in a fairly isolated area in Lawrenceville, Gwinnett County. The day they moved in to their rambling ranch style home, an old man came up as they were unloading the car. They were pretty well off the road and wondered how the man had come since they saw no car or truck. “Just passin’ through.” He told them looping his thumbs through his overalls. “Thought you should know about this place.”  Their curiosity piqued, they invited him to sit on the garden bench and tell them his story.

My daughter and her husband were driving the road right out in front of your place. It was a cold, rainy night and the road was slick. They went into a spin wound up stuck in the muddy ditch. They both heard the stories about the madman that lived in this very house - killed his wife and her lover with an ax when he found them trying to run away together. Of course, that was years ago. My son in law told my daughter to stay in the car and lock the doors until he came back with the police. There was a wicked fog and they couldn’t see but a few inches in front of them. He got out and disappeared into the mist. A few minutes later, she heard a scream, a loud crack and then a gentle bump, bump as if something was blowing in the wind. She crouched down further in the seat, covered her head and prayed that her husband would return with the police.

It felt like hours, but after only a few more minutes the car lit up with a bright light and an official sounding voice called out “Step out of the car”. “Thank goodness”, she thought and stepped out into the bright light. It was then that she saw what was bumping against the car. There, hanging from a tree with his throat slit from side to side was her dead husband. She looked towards the light to see the policeman but realized, it wasn’t a policeman at all. A  man in overalls with a bloody hatchet in his hand was moving closer. “Thought you would leave me, did you? Well think again.” The last thing she saw was the glint of his headlights against the cold, bloody blade.

My friends packed up that day. They moved to a well populated community several miles away where they lived for three years. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, they moved back to Palm Bay, Florida where I’m pleased to say they live happily to this day.