You may be wondering “Why the BLACK CLAW?”, but everything has a story, a beginning if you will. Just like urban legends begin, for they are a myth…aren’t they? Well a story has to come from somewhere, has to begin with something. You may be surprised at how many urban legends really have a true story behind their beginning. But this story is about the Black Claw, this tale really is true, so lets start with how it was born.

It started on an October evening, at dark–as do all scary tales–but what I tell you really is true. My father was coming in from a hard day’s work, we lived in the A-frame that my parents had built together, ’twas a small, comfy house with a large warm fireplace–my mother was tending to baby Christy and my father started to tell me how we needed to build something… to create it. “But what are we going to make daddy?”, I had asked. “A Paper Mache claw” my father replied. Being only 4 yrs old at the time, I really didn’t have any idea what that meant and so my large curious eyes followed my dad as he got all the materials together for our creation. I remember Christy and I, following my dad in dabbing goey wet paper and water splashing all over until we had created exactly what my father had imagined. To me it looked like wet newspaper with lots of goo. But the next few days my dad had taken out ‘The Claw” to his shop where he, just like the creator of frankenstein–was busy with lots of welding, and painting — like a mad scientist. He even had that laugh– and for those of you who know my dad know exactly what im talking about when he is feeling a bit mischievous. I was so curious as he did not show me anything of what he was doing.

The time finally came, “Sparky, come here!”….from behind his back he was holding something, I couldn’t see what it was until he pulled it out from his back and placed it right in front of my face— “AHHHHHHHH” and to run was my natural reaction, as would have been anyone else’s. Dad of course made me come back to confront it and he needed to show me all that his “monster” had become. He showed me the black arm, the size of a humans with a white belly and instead of a hand there was only a long, large claw, a blood red color dribbling down the claw and onto the arm. Inside that claw was its mouth with jagged steel teeth and pink gums holding them in place, not to mention protruding eyes that followed you everywhere you would go. The creation was complete. Now you may think, “okay, so you made a paper mache”, but when this Black Claw was born, it was only to become a lifelong legend.

Every night we had to have a story of what the Black Claw did that day, who or what it had chased down, and at night it would return to our house, but we didn’t know where it was so each dark space, each dark corner became a possible place that is was hiding. The Black Claw would come alive and slide under our beds when we were sleeping, or if we were really unlucky it was already there before we jumped into bed. Nevertheless, we had learned how far we really could jump as each night we started closer and closer to the doorway and leaped into bed hoping that the Black Claw didn’t grasp our leg before we hit the bed, or worse yet would be to underestimate our jump and slip and hit the floor right beside the bed.

Family gatherings would come and all the cousins and family would beg for the Black Claw stories. My father would have kids hanging on him “Please,PLEASE, tell us about the Black Claw!”. We would go down to Tennessee and cousins there would also ask for stories-for it was well known that wherever Uncle Marty was, the Black Claw was sure to follow. Everyone would sit in a circle surrounding my father, as the story went on the kids would start getting closer and closer to him, even clinging to him. The story was always so intense and would end up that the Black Claw was “somewhere in the house, coming alive and hiding…waiting for just the right time to jump out and grab you”…..just then my father’s hand would come alive and his “claw” would grab one of us. The story would always end up in everyone screaming, the loudest of course was the “one who didn’t get away”. But after the story my dad would always reassure us the the Black Claw was REAL, that it was not just a story. So we needed to beware that night as it was always lurking in the shadows, waiting.

So as time went on, the Black Claw was always in the back of our mind. We faithfully watched and took care as night grew upon us, and even though we got older, the Black Claw has always been there. There have definitely been strange things that have happened on the farm, such as lights flickering, beds shaking, car alarms starting for no reason, yard lights going out, and the slough that grew into a lake…only more areas for our Black Claw to hide in camouflage and wait for his attack. We have kept it through the years, and even in the oddest places the Black Claw would appear, just when no one expected it. As you see in the case before you, I assure you that this is the original Black Claw, the first one that we made on that dark October night.

However, I cannot guarantee your safety as at night we don’t know where he roams or where he attacks. So the Black Claw continues, or should i say urban legend?….or is it? Only time will tell, but I warn you to beware because in every dark shadow, and every dark corner the Black Claw may be there, just waiting….