CHILDHOOD FEARS: LUCAS MANGUM AND THE DEAD MAN'S DITCH

​I grew up in a San Diego suburb, and in my backyard stretched a vast canyon full of coyotes and transients. The kids called it “Dead Man’s Ditch.” Word around my elementary school, which also backed up to the canyon, said that someone we named “The Dead Man,” had made his home in that patch of wilderness. Depending on who you spoke to, he was either a drug-addled war veteran, an undead pizza delivery driver, or the devil. He possessed the ability to move underground, either through a network of caverns or by turning into a large worm, like in Tremors. He had a variety of weapons. Most frequently mentioned were his huge knife and his poison darts. Descriptions of him varied. Some said he wore a red ski mask. Others said he had a large Mohawk. We all agreed on one thing: he fed on children.
While I can’t speak for the other kids, I had no doubt of his existence. Every discarded piece of clothing I found was a clue. Neighborhood dogs barked to ward him off. The coyotes were his minions. Twice, a police helicopter and a whole platoon of patrol officers scoured the canyon for someone. Of course, it was him: The Dead Man. The fire that broke out and filled the canyon full of smoke had been either his doing or someone’s attempt to stop him. On foggy days when I could see nothing beyond my backyard chain link fence, I imagined my nemesis was up to something very bad. I used to hold meetings with my friends, planning out ways to keep ourselves safe. I envisioned that one day, we’d battle him in my backyard. I imagined we’d win, but sometimes I wondered what might happen if we were to lose.

I preached warnings to other kids during recess. Most of the boys believed me. The girls thought I was weird and dumb. I didn’t care either way. I knew what I knew and no one could make me believe otherwise. By day, this lore enthralled me, but by night, when I lay awake in the dark, my window looking out at the canyon, the promise of his existence left me petrified with fear.

I never saw The Dead Man, and instead of some big climatic battle, I fought many small battles with bullies. I was weird and getting under my skin proved all too easy. These problems began to occupy most of my days, but by night, I held fast to my belief in Dead Man’s Ditch and all the imagery those words conjured. The imagery haunted me as I tried to sleep, and slipped their way into my dreams when I finally closed my eyes.

I don’t quite remember when I stopped believing in The Dead Man. All of a sudden, I just stopped thinking of him. I had a crush on a girl. I was about to start middle school. My parents told me to stop spending so much time playing in my imagination, because I needed to make real friends. For some reason I couldn’t quite articulate at the time, these things scared me more than any Dead Man. I know now that something was shifting inside me, that I was growing up. Change was coming, and I didn’t know what that change would look like.
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Fear never goes away. It only changes its shape.

ABOUT LUCAS MANGUM

Lucas Mangum is the author of 6 books, most recently We Are the Accused, Engines of Ruin, and the forthcoming Saint Sadist. He lives in Austin, TX with his family, and can be contacted at lucasmangum.com or on Twitter @RealLucasMangum.

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​We Are The Accused BY ​LUCAS MANGUM

A mad god lusts for power. Two demon lovers lust for death. An ancient man seeks to devour plagues natural and supernatural.All converge on the small town of Blue Brook, Pennsylvania to wage war unlike any other, yet strangely familiar.Bianca is an Afghanistan war veteran turned police detective whose ex-con high school sweetheart has just come home. Boone is a boy entrusted with immense power and a mother who's struggling to hold their family together. Lafferty is a priest with many secrets.All are caught in the middle of something beyond their understanding. The inner and outer darkness of each doomed soul must be faced. And blood will be shed.

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