When I was about age ten or so, a friend and I saw what we thought was a werewolf. It was in the winter time and we were in a frozen over cranberry bog, in the town of Mashpee, Massachusetts, so it may have been in late 1979, or early 1980, if I'm not remembering incorrectly.
It was getting dark, it must have been about 3:30pm or so, but we were having too much fun, smashing ice where it was thin, sliding on it where it was thick. I was wearing boots with absolutely NO traction [cowboy boots, don't ask! I always used to wear them, what can I say, I'm a freak!] and I was getting the most distance on my slides, at the time it was great craik.
I can't really think of a good way to describe what a cranberry bog looks like to someone who hasn't been to one, but I think of them as a sort of New England version of the rice paddie. It's a system of irrigation ditches that will run for acres and acres, and connects in such a way that with the simple placing or removing of a few planks of wood, one could flood or drain an entire city block's worth of land. We were constantly messing around with the water system there, and the only thing that kept us out of trouble was the fact that the bog was being sold and reworked into what has now become the Quashnett Valley golf course, one of the largest on Cape Cod.
The roads that ran through this place were of hard packed dirt, and as they had also flooded with water the week before, they were like straight smooth tracks of flat ice. The only place to get traction was at the very edge of the road where the ridge of dirt that made up it's border dropped away to the bog, three feet down. Imagine multiple levels of ice, some hiding water another three foot deep, and some hidind solid ground.
Well, we were sliding our way back towards the general direction of home [the Mashpee United Church Village, for those of you with map programs!] when we heard a peculiar "coughing" sound.
We had both been laughing, and joking, and carrying on like young boys do, but we both froze when we heard that sound.
It wasn't loud, or especially malign or anything, just a simple cough.
Initially I thought to myself "Oh Lord, we're busted for sure!" as I though that it was an adult who had been watching us destroy everything we could possibly destroy.
When we turned around to face back into the bog, we were not expecting to see what we did, which was some kind of naked 'dog-faced' man, who was crouching on a pile of dirt just off into the wood to our right, scrutinizing us.
I felt a shock of horror that hit me so hard, I felt as though my fingertips had been blown off by the escaping adrenaline! My legs almost gave out, and I heard my friend Doug scream in a high pitched voice.
This was no man in a mask! It looked like a German Shepard, but with darker markings, and the hair covered almost it's whole body. It had some places on it's torso and legs where I could see that it had grayish colored skin, but it looked like a regular human body other than the color of the skin and the hair, regular enough to be able to also see that this 'it' was actually a 'he'! [Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this thing was set on "Go!" or anything, I just noticed because I was shocked that someone would be out in the cold, so naked!] It's eyes were very strange, they DID seem a bit fake, they were so black, and I got the impression of some kind of bug, or lobster eyes.
We were both so panicked that I still can't recall who started running first. What I do remember though, is how much like a nightmare it was for me, as I could get NO traction with my boots to run. It was like a dream where you know something bad is coming up behind you, and you are paralyzed, or moving at half-speed.
We DID get the hell out of there pretty fast, and it took us a while before we ever went back. I can still remember today, the sound that galvanized me into finally just digging my bootheels into the ice as if I were wearing crampons.
As I turned to run, I heard the thing sigh. First it sighed, and then it farted.
Somehow I had myself convinced that the fart was because it was launching itself at my back, you know, the way a bird shits before it takes off in flight? I couldn't remember seeing it's hands/paws, so I was sure I was going to feel something sawing at my spine any minute.
When we got out to the road [Old Barnstable Rd.] we looked back, and as I'm sure comes as no great shock to anyone here, we saw nothing. It was gone. [if it had ever really been]
We did end up going back to the bog, and the surrounding woods, quite a bit, as they lay on the path one had to take to get to any summer recreation areas, like John's Pond, where we would swim, or the nearby military base Camp Edwards/Otis AFB, where we went to pillage and destroy [we used to harrass the guards there!]
Area folklore trained us from our youth to fear the woods because "Granny Squannit would get us!" She was supposed to have a hairy assistant, so that is what we thought we saw. We only saw it a couple more times, and never close up, always far away on a hill at sunset, or once as a dark shape that was checking out our tree fort.