The Hound of Goshen: Cerberus of the Carolinas

Published on 10 October 2024 at 22:10

Union County, South Carolina – In the quiet, rural town of Goshen, nestled among the rolling hills and ancient forests of Union County, there lurks a terrifying creature that strikes fear into the hearts of all who encounter it. Locals call it the Hound of Goshen, a spectral beast with glowing eyes and a mournful howl that chills the bones of even the bravest souls.

For over a century, this fearsome creature has haunted the dark roads and lonely paths of South Carolina’s backwoods, leaving behind a trail of mystery, terror, and death. Unlike ordinary hounds, the Hound of Goshen is no simple flesh-and-blood animal. It is a ghost—a phantom born of a brutal past, bound to the land by some terrible curse that no one dares to fully understand.

The legend dates back to the early 19th century when Goshen was a humble settlement, and a man named Edward B. Sims was executed unjustly by a mob of angry townsfolk. Sims, accused of a crime he swore he did not commit, vowed revenge on his tormentors with his dying breath. In his final moments, he cursed the very ground they stood on and promised that his hound—his beloved, loyal dog—would return to exact his vengeance.

That night, after Sims was buried in the cemetery on Buncombe Road, the first sighting of the Hound of Goshen was reported. A massive, black hound with glowing, red eyes appeared near his grave, howling a deathly wail that echoed for miles. From that night on, the hound was spotted regularly, prowling the countryside, its howl a harbinger of doom. The locals soon realized a horrifying pattern: wherever the hound was seen, death soon followed.

Those who dared to cross paths with the Hound of Goshen reported feeling a bone-chilling cold, as if they had stepped into a graveyard at midnight. Some claimed that the beast’s gaze could paralyze a man with fear, its eyes burning like coals as it watched from the shadows. Others described hearing its deep, guttural growl just before the air was split by its eerie howl—a sound said to foretell an untimely death. Livestock would die mysteriously, people would vanish, and accidents would happen without explanation, all after the hound’s dreadful wail echoed through the night.

Perhaps the most terrifying tale comes from a local farmer named Thomas Brooks, who in 1903 swore that the Hound of Goshen saved his life. As the story goes, Brooks was riding his horse late one evening when he encountered a pack of wild dogs that set upon him viciously. Just as the pack was about to tear him apart, a massive black hound appeared, scattering the wild dogs with a single growl. But when Brooks turned to thank his savior, the hound vanished, leaving behind only a puff of cold air and the faint smell of brimstone.

Some believe the Hound of Goshen is not merely a ghostly guardian but an avenger, sent to punish those who wrong the innocent. Others say it is a cursed being, doomed to wander the roads of Goshen for eternity, bound to the bloodstained earth where injustice was done. Whatever its true nature, no one can deny that the hound’s presence is a dire omen, and those who hear its howl are never the same.

Even today, late-night travelers along Buncombe Road tell of seeing strange shadows darting across the road, or hearing the unmistakable sound of heavy paws crunching the gravel behind them. Some have even claimed to see the glowing eyes of the hound peering out from the thick woods, watching them as they pass, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Is the Hound of Goshen a myth, a tale born from the superstitions of rural South Carolina? Or is it something far more real, a phantom beast prowling the night, bound to the curse of a wronged man’s dying words? The truth may never be known, but one thing is certain: the Hound of Goshen is still out there, roaming the dark roads of Union County, forever seeking vengeance.

So, dear reader, the next time you find yourself driving down a deserted country road late at night, with only the dim glow of your headlights to guide you, keep your eyes peeled for a shadow that moves where it shouldn’t. And if you hear the faint, mournful howl of a hound carried on the wind—pray. For once the Hound of Goshen has chosen its next victim, there is no escape.

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