Legend of The Goatman
The rain came down in cold, relentless sheets over the small town of Ravenswood. Water hissed against cracked sidewalks and filled the potholes until they reflected the orange glow of the single streetlamp that still worked. The air smelled of wet asphalt and old leaves, and somewhere far off, thunder rolled across the sky like the low growl of something waking up. At the very edge of town lay the Ravenswood forest. A dense, dark, and, according to every child who’d ever grown up here, cursed. The trees grew too close together, their branches tangling overhead like bony fingers trying to trap whatever walked below. In the day, it was merely unpleasant. At night, it became something else entirely. For decades, the townsfolk had whispered about a figure that haunted the woods: the Goatman. A creature with the legs of a goat, the body of a man, and the head of something far worse. Some said he was a demon born from a botched summoning in the late 1800s. Others swore he was the ghost...