Here is a Caledon East story.
It was almost midnight when Kim entered the garage. Usually it was a refuge, a place of escape, a place for planning dreams. But tonight it was different. Someone or something had taken over the place, snatched it from her, made it unfamiliar. Her own footsteps sounded like those of an intruder. Then, with the lack of warning of a car suddenly lunging into sight in your rearview mirror when you’re backing up, it appeared.
It was almost midnight when Kim entered the garage. What is it about that time that makes the little hairs on the back of your neck quiver when you are alone in the dark, even when there is nothing that you see that should cause you fear. She had gone into the garage as she believed that there was where the book she was reading was to be found. She thought she may have left in on driver’s side of the windshield, just in case she had a whim to stop somewhere and read.
But now her quiet place of occasional refuge had an air of threat to it. Even her own footsteps sounded like those of an intruder sneaking up behind her. There was some small comfort in having the keys with her so that she could quickly enter her car, and be safe to a certain small extent.
It was almost midnight when Kim entered the garage. She noticed that the door on the side was fully open, not the way she had left it, partially maybe. She felt that in a few minutes the hour would ring from an old clock tower in an old black and white movie. Then a backlit shadowy figure in a cloak would appear to block her path. But that is not the way that it happened. Not something softly scary like that, more Hitchcock with violins repeating the same notes over and over again.
With the lack of warning of a car suddenly lunging into sight in your rearview mirror when you’re backing up, it appeared. It did not lunge precisely, more emerged out of the dark and into her line of vision, and between her and her car. At first she determined that it was not human. At the other end of the scale she knew that it was way too big to be a cat. But then, it also was not a dog, the legs were too short for its massive size, and that definitely was no dog’s muzzle, or even a coyote, that faced her, pointing directly at her.
Then she was hit sharply by the smell. It was both familiar and yet somehow quite strange, unexpected. The sound that it made was the clue that enabled her racing senses to determine what it was that stood between her and safety, between restfulness and shock. She had read about it in the local papers, but couldn’t believe either the pictures or the stories that followed. So it was true. Her sleepy little town had been invaded by a wild boar. But soon the word ‘wild’ seemed inappropriate, as the lonely beast snuggled its snout into her outstretched hands.