Tommy Hanson had been afraid of the dark for as long as he could remember. His bedroom, in the basement of his parents Midwestern home presented a challenge for his fear. It was not acceptable behavior in those days to leave lights on in a room if you were the last one leaving it, so when Tommy switched the lights off, it cast the whole basement into a murky blackness.

It was only a few feet from his bedroom door to a staircase leading to the kitchen, but for Tommy, who imagined ghostly arms reaching for him, it might as well have been a mile-long dark tunnel.

Once he reached the staircase, he could sense apparitions close behind him and knew at any second they would reach out in the blackness to wrap their skeletal hands around his neck or grab his shirt collar and drag him back into their ghostly realm.

Tommy would scramble up the stairs as fast as he could, leaning close-in and using his hands and feet like climbing a ladder.

The staircase had one landing with a 180 degree turn and five additional steps to a door which Tommy would burst through like police on a drug raid and then attempt to regain his composure if his mom was in the kitchen.

Tommy was tall for 13 and fortunately for him, other kids equated his stature with toughness and mostly left him alone. That was ok with him, he was not much of a scrapper any way. His real talent lay in daydreaming which he practiced whenever he could. The classroom was his favorite venue but did not help his grades.

The fear of ghosts in his basement was no-match for Tommy’s newest fear. He had inherited a morning paper route from his older brother a few months earlier and in Midwest cities, in the 60’s and 70’s, morning papers were delivered in the middle of the night while most kids Tommy’s age were sound asleep.

The job of being a paper-boy was sold to kids by parents and newspaper companies as a way to build character, teach responsibility and earn cold hard cash. It was an avenue for kids with limited earning opportunities, but for Tommy, it was more like survival.

Tommy would get up at 4:30 in the morning and drag himself half-asleep down to a distribution point which newspaper companies referred to as paper-shacks. The shack, a small metal building with a wood burning stove, was usually located in an alley or other non-conspicuous place so as not to be an eyesore to the general population.

The papers were bundled tight with steel wire and required a cutter to break free. Tommy along with the other poor kids whose parents had bought into the scheme would meet each morning to claim their bundles. If you did not arrive on time, the shack would be closed and your papers would be unceremoniously thrown onto the dirt and gravel of the alley without any regard for what the weather might be doing.

For Tommy, never getting enough sleep coupled with the physical exertion of delivering 80 newspapers on foot, paled in comparison to the nervousness he felt each morning about the final delivery on his route.

His route was mostly a straight shot down a residential street which stretched for a mile or so before it dead-ended into a lake.

The source of Tommy’s apprehension was a large old home-built facing the lake where the street ended. Homes on the lake tended to be mansions and had large privacy fences built of cement, iron or stone. The houses were on over-sized lots and setback from sidewalks to ensure privacy for their wealthy owners.

The house and grounds of this particular mansion occupied two lots which were back to back and the entire property had a six-foot cement and stucco wall around its perimeter matching the ugly brown color of the house. The home was situated near the front of the lot closest to the lake to maximize its views.

There was a narrow arched opening in the side wall facing the street Tommy traversed. The opening had a built-in iron gate and conformed to the contours of the arch. At the top of the Iron Gate, two thin pieces of iron had been twisted together and forged into a point which hung down from the frame. It reminded Tommy of a dagger blade and he always glanced apprehensively up when passing under it.

There were signs about the house and grounds suggesting the owners had come upon hard times or had just gotten too old to keep the place up. Tommy had never met them, and in fact had never seen a soul on the property or any movement within the house.

In winter when leaves were absent and the ground had a layer of snow, remnants of a large cement pond could be seen from the path leading to the back entrance. The pond had been long abandoned and was covered over with vines. Tommy tried to imagine the space with groomed garden paths, lush grassy areas and laughing children but its gloomy reality seeped-in and stole the vision.

The overgrown area of the grounds extended several hundred feet from the rear of the house toward the back perimeter where trees, shrubs and  vines were aggressively reasserting their claim on the land.

On the morning of June 22, 1971 Tommy emerged from his slumber at 4:30 am, and after dressing, left his home quietly by the side door. He noticed the morning was especially dark. He did not realize it at the time, but the darkness was caused by the phase of the moon. The New Moon phase meant for all intents and purposes there would be no visible moon that morning.

In addition to the darkness there was a strange warm wind sporadically rushing between the elm trees lining the boulevards. The wind would dissipate as suddenly as it started, leaving slow swaying branches in its wake. The elms formed a cathedral type arch high above the street and on a moonless night such as this, added another level of darkness.

Lively shadows moved across objects illuminated by corner street lamps and every blackened window seemed to be watching Tommy as he walked with a heightened alertness, his mind already dreading the prospect of delivering a paper to the old lake house on such a morning as this.

He could only imagine the horror of navigating its narrow pathway through overgrown trees and shrubs from the arched gate to back door steps where a dim yellow bulb seemed to be perpetually on.

There was something not quite right about the house and property and Tommy could feel a presence after crossing through its gate; he was not alone. Someone or something watched his every step. He would feel the presence behind him the strongest and this feeling grew more intense the closer he came to the house.

Once he placed the paper on the landing of the back entry steps, he needed every bit of courage to turn back around, he had no doubt a figure would be waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.

Tommy tried to talk himself out of his fear but it was to no avail, his arm and neck hairs automatically stood on-end and a pressing fear would set upon him each morning as he walked cautiously through the gate.

When Tommy arrived at the paper shack, he was grateful for the company of a few other Paperboy’s who were standing around talking. He knew it was a brief respite from the solitary task which lie ahead.

After loading his papers in two large yellow sacks with padded straps, Tommy hoisted the first sack up on his back and put the padded strap across his forehead to support its weight, the second sack was placed in front of Tommy so he could pull the papers as needed, the strap intersecting the first strap at the back of his neck.

The first couple of blocks were physically challenging with a full load of papers and each house delivered lightened his load marginally and provided motivation to press-on. Most of Tommy’s customers preferred their paper out of the elements which forced him to walk across yards, up-stairs and onto dark porches and landings in order to put papers inside of storm doors or under mats.

It was a morning full of dark shadows where even familiar objects somehow looked unnatural. Each corner where streets and avenues intersected, street lamps created welcome pools of light which for Tommy, were small islands of safety.

Tommy had unconsciously quickened his pace with his deliveries, not wanting to linger in dark corners or closed-in areas between houses, but as a result he was quickly approaching the dreaded source of his fear. His first glimpse of the lake house property from the preceding block reminded him of a large black hole in the earth beyond the wall.

Tommy did not walk on the sidewalk next to the wall, he stayed on the opposite side of the street until he was even with the arched gate before crossing over. Today he stared at the blackness beyond the gate before crossing and a shiver ran up his spine.

The warm wind had picked up and was blowing inland from the lake, every tree and shrub was alive with motion and sound.

Tommy forced himself to cross the street and instinctively pushed the spring loaded latch allowing the Iron Gate to swing inward. He peered into the blackness and could just make out the faint yellow light which appeared to be flickering as low branches intermittently crossed his line of sight.

When Tommy stepped inside the gate, blackness enveloped him and he could not remember a time where he had only been able to see a few feet in front of him on the path. He knew the curves and rise of the stone path by heart but his fear was causing disorientation and his steps were timid and unsure.

Tommy felt a thin layer of perspiration on his face, but did not dare wipe it with his sleeve for fear his concentration of peering into the darkness would be broken. He could feel the uncomfortable presence of someone or something close to him and today it seemed to move all around him, protected by the  darkness.

He pushed forward and his fear grew with each step. The feeling of dread was nearly unbearable and a small internal voice was telling him his worst fears were about to be realized.

A low rumble of thunder rolled across the property from the direction of the lake and was followed by a gust of wind which caused branches to reach out and brush against his bare arms. He could now see his destination and the dim bulb cast just enough light for him to make out the stairs and door of the back entry. There was a small clearing between the end of the stone path and the steps and he moved across it rapidly.

Tommy reached the steps and took them two at a time, propelled forward by his fear and feeling a desperate need to remove himself from the property. He was contemplating a dangerous mad dash down the dark path after dropping the paper but an audible gasp escaped him when he turned and was greeted by a set of glowing eyes from the clearing.

A statue could not have stood in-place with any more precision than Tommy was now standing. His forward motion frozen in mid-step belied the thoughts racing through his mind. The glowing eyes were too close to the ground to be human.

A flash of lightning over the lake provided a just enough illumination for Tommy to make out the silhouette of a large German shepherd with its head held low.

Every tale of wild vicious dogs, the smell of fear and the proper way to act in an aggressive situations went through his mind in a fraction of a second, but none of it was practical. Tommy could not physically move and if fear was going to prompt an attack he figured he was as good as dead.

The eyes moved across the clearing and the creature stopped at the bottom of the steps staring up at Tommy with teeth bared while emitting a low growl which could just be heard between the low rumblings of thunder.

The outside world ceased to exist for Tommy, His vision narrowed and the creature’s unbreakable stare along with his fear of a violent attack occupied his whole being.

He had never seen this dog before and the way it had appeared out of nowhere made him wonder if it had been living among the trees and brambles all along and could be the presence he had always felt.

The perception of time was suspended and each second stretched like a slow motion scene during the stand-off.  Something started to change for Tommy and his fear was slowly turning to anger. He had been pushed into a corner and was tired of being afraid. He looked around for anything within his reach to use in his defense but found nothing.

He noticed when he looked back at the dog, its stance and demeanor had changed and it looked away  toward the back perimeter as if hearing something of more interest before turning back to look at Tommy. It was no longer growling and seemed less interested in him.

Tommy still did not feel like he could move but he willed his mind to push himself forward. He took a small step toward the edge of the landing and the initial motion was enough to regain his momentum to navigate the stairs. The dog looked sideways toward the overgrowth and moved a few feet away from the steps into the clearing as Tommy approached the bottom steps.

It was if the dog and Tommy had an unspoken understanding as they passed within a few feet of each other in the clearing on that strange dark morning. The dog stood at a sideways angle to Tommy and looked straight ahead, as if saying I see you and you are allowed to proceed.

Tommy had tapped into an inner strength he did not know existed within him and instinctively knew something had changed forever.

When he emerged from the gate onto the sidewalk he saw the first faint hint of dawn on the horizon and knew for him it would truly be a new day.