Published: 31 Oct 2022

“Tell us a story, Uncle Shea!”

“Yeah, we want a good story!”

“A scary one; Halloween’s next week, Uncle Shea!”

Shawn, 11, Micah, 10 and Millie, 8 pleaded with their uncle who was visiting for the weekend. The whole family had gotten together at Shawn and Millie’s house who belonged to Shea’s older brother, Justin. Micah’s dad, Rick, was there with his family too. He was younger than Shea.

Shea and his husband, Raymond, didn’t have any kids yet but fully enjoyed spending time with their nephews and niece. Raymond couldn’t make it this weekend due to being scheduled to work the ER at County Hospital.

“You sure you can handle a scary story,” teased Shea, grinning. “Wouldn’t want to give you nightmares or make you too scared to go trick-or-treating.”

The cousins knew their uncle wasn’t serious; it was a family tradition for someone, usually Shea, to tell a haunting tale whenever the family gathered when it was close to Halloween. They knew they’d get some kind of spooky yarn out of Uncle Shea before the night was over so they stared him down waiting.

“Okay, okay! Let me think a minute,” Shea capitulated. “Hmmm . . . have you heard about the legend surrounding Porterfield Gap?”

“No, we haven’t,” admitted Micah excitedly.

“That’s just down the road from us,” Shawn exclaimed with awe.

“Tell us! Tell us!” shouted Millie nearly bouncing like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh fame.

“Well . . . this legend goes all the way back to the time of the Civil War,” started Shea in his storytelling voice. “Not sure if you knew this but while the city of Knoxville was under Confederate control most of the rest of East Tennessee sided with the Union.”

“We don’t need a history lesson, Uncle Shea. We want eerie stuff,” insisted Micah.

“I know what you want but this is relevant to the story,” Shea told the kids. “Because of this situation between the two sides it wasn’t unusual for small groups to end up in skirmishes or for lone soldiers to get ambushed.”

“Is that what happened?” queried Millie with rapt attention.

“Just listen to the tale and you’ll find out,” admonished Shea patiently. He was used to the almost constant interruptions as a story got started. It happened every single time until they reached the meat of the tale.

“Back then, I think it was about 1863, there wasn’t a road through Porterfield Gap like there is now. There was just a path that was barely a trail meandering beside the creek that ran between the hills on either side.

Because of the creek there was often thick fog through the gap especially during the spring and fall seasons. The incident that became the legend of Porterfield Gap happened in October. In fact it was on October thirty-first, Halloween night.”

“Yes!” Shawn blurted out eyes alight with excitement. He got similar answering looks from the other two before they turned their attention back to their uncle.

“The air in the gap was chilly and thick with fog. It roiled around creating an eerie aura. Sounds seemed to be magnified and coming from all sides at the same time.

Into this gloomy atmosphere a young Confederate scout with an important message for General Longstreet in Knoxville found himself headed. The young man whose name has never been discovered had only joined the Confederate army six months before leaving his family’s farm for the first time.

He paused at the entrance to the gap with trepidation and stared into the dark swirling fog while also straining to hear anything nearby. With no moon visible he could see nothing in the black spanse and the only sound was the gurgling of the stream running through the gap between two tall hills.

After a lengthy pause the young soldier drew in a long, slow breath then started blowing it out but held it again when he realized how loud it sounded in the dark, still and fog shrouded night. Straining to listen, the youngster let his breath out slowly and silently as he willed his heartbeat to slow down to normal.

When his heart was no longer pounding loudly in his ears the Rebel soldier carefully stepped forward trying to be as quiet as possible. Forward progress was painstakingly slow as he worked to not make a sound while traveling through the gap.

Meanwhile deeper into the dreary gap a small squad of three Union soldiers sat around a small fire with a tent at their backs. Tasked with guarding this pass through the countryside on the way to Knoxville one or two of the men should have been patrolling the gap. Instead they were all gathered around the fire sharing a bottle or two of cheap whiskey to hold back the shadowy chill of the fall night.

In a bizarre situation for the Union army all three of the soldiers possessed a sword which was normally reserved only for the officers. Sitting around the flames getting tipsy they played with their swords while their rifles were leaning against the tent.

In spite of the alcohol and brave talk as they huddled together the vision distorting thick fog and lack of moonlight had the three Northerners unsettled as they “guarded” the pass.”

Uncle Shea used his fingers to make the quote sign as he said the word, guarded. His attentive audience giggled lightly at the gesture.

Shea continued with his story, “The Confederate soldier continued to painstakingly make his way through the gap doing all he knew how to keep from alerting anyone or anything that might be around that he was there. The thick layer of fallen leaves with a few sticks thrown in weren’t helping his efforts. He moved closer to the stream winding through the gap hoping there would be fewer noise makers to step on.

While the carpet of dead leaves was lighter next to the creek there were rocks and larger tree limbs that had to be stepped over and worked around. Several times the young Rebel came close to falling; once he would have landed in the water had he not had a tree trunk close enough to grasp tightly. Again he had to pause to slow his heart rate and his breathing.

As he got his body under control the Confederate scout heard some noises in the oppressive quiet of the eerie, fog shrouded gap through the hills of East Tennessee. With his own heartbeat still resonating in his ears and the denseness of the fog he could not catch any recognizable noises. Just some faint rustlings and otherworldly mumblings.

After a long moment of trying to hear something that he could put a name to, besides ghost, the skittish young man pulled his rifle off his back and kept it to hand. This put him at a disadvantage as he dealt with the worrisome terrain. He continued to creep along trying not to forewarn any entity of any sort to his prescience.

It wasn’t long though until he had to stretch over a fallen branch and his foot came down on a slick slab of stone. As he desperately flailed about trying to catch himself his hold on the rifle slipped and it clattered loudly on the rocky ground in the foggy thickness. He made even more noise scrabbling around in the smoky darkness trying to retrieve his rifle.

The Union soldiers whose campsite was near to the same stream the Rebel followed heard the racket he caused and looked around wildly. Their drunken state causing them to imagine all sorts of things that go bump in the night.

Just then in the space between the two parties a screech owl let loose with his distinctive call causing hearts to jump into four throats and eight eyes to nearly pop out of heads. All four men were extremely frightened and rattled and when the owl screeched again it was all over.

The three Union guys took off in three different directions and only one of them kept enough wits about them to take a weapon; the sword he had been holding when they were startled. They were not quiet in the least as they fled including one knocking over his camp stool.

The Rebel froze after the first screech when the second one pierced the night he started to go in one direction then another unsure which way he should flee. When he heard the commotion of the three other soldiers he scrambled off in the direction he was facing at the moment. He forgot all about his dropped rifle in his haste to get away from whatever had made that god-awful noise.

Now there were four petrified men running wildly through the woods and sometimes through the creek making all kinds of noises. Each time one of the guys heard a noise he would turn away from where he thought the noise came from and take off with a renewed burst of speed. As they ran their arms thrashed frantically at the tree limbs and shrubbery in their way. The one Union soldier who remembered to take his sword with him slashed insanely at any and everything.

After a while the adrenaline ran out of their systems and they began to slow down but now had no clue where they were. The poor lone Confederate soldier couldn’t tell which direction Knoxville was in and he could no longer hear the water from the creek. Besides not knowing where they were, the three Union men couldn’t find their camp or each other.

Although traveling slower now the man with the sword would still swing savagely at anything that spooked him. So when the now softer stepping youth appeared dressed in his gray uniform that blended in with the still heavy fog all the sword-wielding soldier saw was a disembodied head floating towards him.

The Union man screamed and slashed out wildly. The Rebel guy turned toward the yell and saw a sword flashing toward him and let out a shriek of terror that ended abruptly. The swing was dead on target and the young man’s head flew off his body, hit a nearby tree trunk and bounced toward the swordsman.

He let loose a high-pitched squeal and kicked at the flying head, booting it out of sight and fled off to his right away from the separated head and body. The other two Union soldiers heard all the yelling and shrieking and were spurred back to full speed as they also fled the area in terror.”

“What happened next?” exclaimed Micah breathlessly while the other two nodded their agreement.

“Well,” started their Uncle Shea. “The next morning when the replacement guards came to the gap all they found was the empty camp. After a long search they still found no sign of the previous guards but they did find a headless body in a Confederate uniform. His head was never found though.

To this day it’s said that on a foggy, moonless Halloween night you can hear footsteps in the woods around the stream that still flows through the gap and if you hang around too long you might even see a headless man looking for his missing head. Or you might come across a wandering Union soldier still trying to find his way back to camp.”

“That was a pretty good story, Uncle Shea,” admitted Shawn.

“You always have good stories,” agreed Micah while Millie’s head almost came off with how hard she was nodding her endorsement of her brother’s and cousin’s statements.

The next week on Halloween the three kids were almost finished with their trick-or-treating when they found themselves at the entrance to Porterfield Gap. Looking into the gap the three could see nothing through the heavy fog that had begun just a few minutes ago and of course there was no help from the moon for it was nowhere to be found.

“Let’s go down here,” urged Shawn looking at the other two whose attention was on the gap.

“I don’t know, Shawn,” hedged Micah worriedly.

Millie didn’t say anything. She kind of agreed with Micah but didn’t want to seem wimpy to her big brother.

“Come on,” Shawn continued to urge the younger two. “You know that one house in the middle of the gap always has really good candy.”

“And they always give a lot because almost nobody goes there,” Millie finally spoke up her love of sweets beginning to overcome her misgivings.

Micah also had a major sweet tooth and reluctantly gave in. “Alright but let’s stay on the road.”

The brother and sister quickly agreed and the trio slowly started into the dark, murky atmosphere of Porterfield Gap. The three stayed very close to one another and their heads looked like they were on swivels as they constantly watched from one side to the other.

After only a few yards the kids heard the crunch of leaves to the side of the road. They froze facing the direction of the sound trying to see something in the thick swirling fogginess. The sound of more footsteps approaching caused the trio to squeeze closer together quaking. Their uncle’s story weighed on all their minds.

“Wh-who’s there?” Shawn tried to challenge but his voice nearly failed him.

There was no answer except for the sound of more leaf crunching getting closer to them. They still couldn’t see anything in the dark, moonless night. Then as they waited terrified they heard a half whispered, half moaned word, “Where?”

Suddenly something appeared out of the fog coming right for them.

“A-a-a-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i!” screamed all three children as they flew out of the gap as fast as their feet could carry them.

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