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Apr 22, 2004 I had heard about the Goat Man many years ago. The story had been circulating for years before it finally reached me and it had taken on mythical proportions. The story went something like this: the reason The Goat Man had been so named is because at one time, he had raised goats. Over a period of time, other animals seemed to find their way on to his property. It was never made clear how these animals came to him; whether they were purchased, given to him or just wandered in from somewhere. He ended up with monkeys and pigs and this odd assortment of animals that just don’t belong together, but somehow managed to thrive in the environment. br> Then tragedy struck. The Goat Man was outside tending his animals during a storm one night when he was hit by lightening. Fortunately, he survived, but some said he was never right after that. His whole personality had changed, along with a few minor physical problems. br> Tragedy struck a second time. Somehow or another, the poor guy managed to find his way back into a storm and got zapped a second time. After that, it seems his personality was even worse for the wear. He rarely accepted visitors and if he did, he was wary about allowing people too close to him. Almost as if he thought they were conductors of some sort. br> They say lightening never strikes twice in the same place. Well, it did three times in this particular case. The Goat Man was struck three times by lightening and survived. I’m not sure what the consequences of that third strike brought, but I’m sure whatever they were, they couldn’t have been good. br> What brought this story to mind was a combination of things. I was at the health club earlier and picked up a copy of New Yorker Magazine and thumbed through it. Super Goat Man, by Jonathan Lethem was sporting this horrific but sensual-looking, surreal man-beast with horns on the cover of the story. Super Goat Man was a fallen super hero, who moved into the neighborhood and joined a hippie commune. br> A little later, I was outside sitting on the steps and watching the storm. The lightening came close. So close in fact, I stopped breathing and thought about the Goat Man. Whatever had happened to him, I didn’t want happening to me. br> I think it’s a throwback to those childhood fears. The goblin under the bed or those stuffed animals that evolve into monstrosities and grow fangs when the lights go out. Yes, the Goat Man had survived, but was that a good thing? br> I thought about how the Goat Man was just never right again. As if, in some way, those of us who haven’t been hit by lightening are right in every other way. I also wonder if people made fun of him behind his back, saying things like “well doesn’t he just have a shocking personality.” Pun intended. Or, worse “How’s the weather GM?” br> I cringe at the thought. The moral of the story? There isn’t one. It’s just a story about a poor guy who was struck by lightening more than once and lived. I’m not even sure it’s true. I just know it’s a story that came to me one day and i’ve never forgotten it. br> It’s one of those stories myths are made of. “Remember what happened to the Goat Man?” ------------ About the author: Carla Herrera is a freelance writer currently residing in northwest Arkansas. She's published articles in Connections, Idea News, The Impact, Seven Seas Online Magazine, Useless-Knowledge.com and Alumbo.com. You may view her weekly column, Twisted Spinster, at: http://www.geocities.com/wom40plus/ or email comments to: publishver@yahoo.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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