The crescent moon barely gave off enough light to illuminate the waves crashing on the beach that night, but anyone looking out onto the sand may have seen the odd line dug into the sand stretching from one end of the beach to the other. Had they have been there moments earlier they would have seen the tall man in the long black coat and wide brimmed hat dragging the lifeless body of a young man or woman across the beach. If he had been there to dump the body, why not take it straight to the water and let the tide pull it out to sea? Where was he taking it? What would he do with it?

The strange thing is this is not an unusual sight. Many people have come across it, both locals and tourists visiting the island. The remote beach on the north side of the island was a hidden gem, a diamond in paradise. The resorts and hotels were all on the south side of the island, in and around the city of Dis Lago. A tropical jungle covered most of the island, and one long road wrapped around the perimeter with the occasional homestead and fruit or coffee farm along the way. The only way on or off the island was the port outside of Dis Lago, which serviced both ship and sea planes. Ask any local, and they’ll tell you that for over one hundred years or so, the Dragging Man as they call him, has been seen, or at the very least people have come across the long marks in the sand.

It’s always a night with a crescent moon and low tide, always the black coat and wide brimmed hat. What varies from each telling of the story, is who’s body is being dragged. Elia De la Court, an eighty eight year old woman who had spent her entire life on the island once told me about the time she saw the Dragging Man. I knew her from town and she invited me over one evening to talk and eventually our conversation had come around to the local legend.

“Oh, it was round about the early fifties I think.” She said as she rocked back and fourth with ease in the rocking chair on her porch. She’d pause now and again to sip the rum drink she had made for us. “I had been out there with my beau, Killian, and we wanted to get out of town and have some privacy. We both were living with family, as most people did this island until you’re married. I know you youngin’s these days like to have your own places, but back then it’s just the was it was. Well, he parked his car not too far from that little beach as we had gone there plenty of times during the day either with a few friends or just together for a nice day alone. We had been sitting there on the hood of his car, looking out at the stars and he asked me if I heard something. We sat up and listened but it was hard for me to hear anything other than the waves crashing slowly in the darkness. Killian got up, leaned in through his car window and turned on the lights.”

Elia paused for a moment and seemed to be lost in thought. She took another sip of her drink and put it back down.

“What I seen I ain’t never thought I would. I don’t want to see it again either. You know, the old timers tell stories to scare the youngin’s and you just think they’re stories. You don’t ever think you’re gonna get into a situation where you find out they’re real. Well, I found out that night that The Dragging Man was very real. Killian’s headlights illuminated the beach in front of us, and right there maybe twenty feet ahead of us was this tall man in a long black coat and this wide brimmed hat. You don’t wear something like that on the island unless it’s raining. Most days it’s too hot and even the nights stay warmer than what you’d need a coat for. Anyways, he had his back to us and as soon as them lights hit him, he stopped moving all together and just stood there looking away from us for a moment. I noticed the legs laid out in front of him. They weren’t moving, one of the feet was missing it’s shoe. That’s when he slowly turned his head and looked at us over his shoulder. I could barely see anything except that thin nose, his white skin, and those beady little eyes that glowed a vibrant dark red in the lights. They had that shimmer to them like a cat’s eyes when light reflects out of them.”

Listening to her tell this story, I realized my heart was beating furiously in my chest, and I had leaned forward in my chair. I took a drink of my rum punch and leaned back into the chair to let her continue.

“I couldn’t see his mouth, but the way his cheek moved I knew he was smiling at us. That’s all it took for me to scream and jump off the hood of Killian’s car and dive into the passenger seat. He jumped into the drivers seat without grabbing his blanket off the hood, started that car up and we couldn’t drive back to town fast enough. When we got back we stopped at The Jack’s Leg, the only bar in town back then, and Killian tried to tell a few of our friends what happened. Before he could finish one of the old timers in the corner started to laugh this uncomfortable, almost forced laugh. He said ‘You seen him. You seen that Dragging Man.’ I realized everyone in the bar had stopped their own conversations and were silently listening to Killian tell the story. The old man looked at the bartender and said ‘Better call Henry Moss over at the hotel, tell them they’re probably missing one of their tourists. Dragging Man got himself another one tonight.”