Most everyone in Alabama knew better than to cross into Dehas Valley. It wasn’t real big, but had a larger than life reputation. Stories circulated about folk who ventured in and returned either scared stiff, insane or not at all.

Mr. Roberts and Mr. Pall, two rich investment bankers from New York City, had bought up the whole place with plans to build a private hunting lodge smack-dab in the middle of it.

It was hard going. None of the people of the area would venture into the valley and they had to build the lodge themselves. Several times they arrived early in the morning to see the walls and the boards carefully righted the previous day completely ripped down. They chocked it up to locals just trying to scare away the rich out-of-towners. The work was difficult, but Roberts and Pall were not quitters. Finally they succeeding in finishing a single-room hunting lodge. It contained a fireplace, a table with three chairs and two cots for sleeping.

Choosing to stay there that very night and hunt the animals of the valley the next morning, they unrolled their sleeping bags on the cots and tried to rest. It wasn’t long before Mr. Pall heard something moving about outside.

“You hear that?” he asked. “What do you think it is?”

“Maybe it’s a deer,” Roberts replied.

“It sounds much bigger that that. Perhaps it’s a whole bunch of deer.”

They were no longer sleepy and looked out the window, but saw nothing.

Whatever it was moved along the outside walls, scraping up against them. The lodge started to creak and moan, as though a heavy load was pressing against its beams.

The men were spooked now and loaded their weapons. Then the walls around the window squeaked and the glass shook. They looked, but could see nothing outside other than the moonlit landscape.

“Maybe the people are right about this valley,” Pall said nervously. “Maybe there is something bad here.”

Roberts fear turned to disgust. “Ridiculous! There are no ghosts or zombies or anything else here. I’ll prove it.” He lit the lantern and set it on the table. He then put match to a cigarette in his mouth, swung open the front door and shouted, “If there are any spirits here, please come right in. I should like to talk to you.”

The sounds of the thing or things outside promptly stopped. Roberts grinned and sat down at the table. “See,” he said. “Whatever was out there – probably a couple of teenagers trying to scare us – have run off.”

Pall was not so sure. He sat quietly and listened.

Taking a drag off his cigarette, Roberts exhaled into the middle of the room. The smoke lingered for a moment and then darted away from the rooms center in all directions. The men stared, trying to figure out what disturbed the air, and almost immediately the floor creaked. And creaked. And moaned. And groaned. Pall gasped as the floorboards bent downward in several spots. Roberts leapt to his feet. The lantern flickered and the room alternated between light and dark. As light returned to a steady state it shone on something huge. Standing nearly wall-to-wall and floor to cathedral ceiling was an enormous elephant.

Pall was knocked backward onto his cot. Roberts found himself standing right below the jaw of the great beast. “Oh my gosh!” he said, almost knocking the lantern over. Pall scrambled along the floor and flattened himself against the wall near Roberts.

A tusk swished in front of Robert’s face as the elephant turned its massive head to better see the men. In a deep slow voice, it said, “You are not welcome here.”

Roberts, badly scared and leaning on his chair for support, manage to stammer, “E-Elephants can’t talk.” Many other things raced through his mind as well: what was an elephant doing in Alabama? Did it come in through the door or the window? Why did it seem to appear out of thin air? But his mouth could not form the words.

The massive creature spoke again. “You are not welcome in this valley.” The words clearly originated from the great animal, but strangely its mouth didn’t seem to move when it spoke.

“W-W-Wait a minute,” Roberts replied. I own the building and every inch of this valley. I bought it.”

The elephant raised his trunk and bellowed, shaking the walls and window. Pall covered his head. “You humans think you are masters of all. I and others like me were here long before men came and killed us off. I was speared many times before laying down to die in this valley. Now I watch over the animals here. It is my domain.” The lantern flickered again and the great beast was gone.

The men sat in silence and then Pall said, “Let’s get the heck out of here.”

“No!” Roberts shouted. “Leave if you want, but I’m staying. There is no such thing as ghost or talking elephants or anything of the sort. I don’t know what that was, but if it comes back, I’ll fill it full of buckshot.”

Pall tried to convince his partner to leave, but was unsuccessful.

He drove for hours, finally arriving in a medium size town and booked a room in the fanciest hotel he could find. It really wasn’t all that fancy, but did have an internet connection. Pall did his best to research Alabama, Elephants, and in particular Dehas valley. At first he found only a few rumors and old tales about the valley, but nothing useful. Then he dug into ancient history and found something about America that he had never learned in school. It seems that two species of elephants lived in what would become the southern United States, including Alabama. Then, many thousands of years ago, humans showed up. Within a few hundred years the elephants had all died out.

The next morning, he screwed up his courage and drove back into the valley, to try again to talk some sense into Mr. Roberts. As he drew near the lodge, he could see that an entire wall had been knocked out and part of the roof collapsed. He dug though the rubble for hours, but no sign of Roberts was ever seen again.

- J. Sparry