"Good evening, dear listeners. As the shadows grow longer and the chill in the air deepens, we're taking a detour from our regular programming to usher in the spirit of Halloween. Whether you're nestled by a crackling campfire or huddled around the familiar hum of the barn radio, prepare yourself for a tale that's bound to send shivers down your spine. Tonight, we delve into the heart of the Genesee Valley for a story that has echoed through the ages. So, gather close, make sure your flashlights are at the ready, and join us for this special Rochester Trail Tale that will leave you questioning every rustling leaf and every whispering wind. Are you ready? Let's begin."

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Fall 1834 had painted the Genesee Valley with a palette of rich hues. Golden leaves from the majestic oaks formed a carpet for a land surveyor named Nathaniel Greyson. Every morning, Greyson would mount his faithful Morgan named Orion. Together they'd charted the future course of the Genesee Valley Canal.

The duo had traveled many places with their work, but there was something about this stretch of land that felt, different. Stories overheard the night before about the valley fog, its myths and legends, all faded into the background as Greyson focused on his work.

This warm October day, as he was plotting the canal route, the atmosphere began to feel strangely, dense. In the intensified stillness, the forest's silence was almost deafening. Every snap of a twig beneath Orion's hooves echoed eerily, sounding unnaturally loud to Greyson's ears. Even the bird calls had ceased, replaced by an oppressive quiet that weighed heavily on his chest.

Suddenly, Orion stopped in his tracks, ears pricked forward, nostrils flaring. Greyson could feel the horse's heartbeat against his leg, racing with anxiety. He too strained his ears, trying to pick up on whatever had caught his steed’s attention.

And then he heard it. A soft, rhythmic thud. The unmistakable sound, of footsteps. But these were not the familiar steps of a human or animal; they seemed... hollow, as if the earth itself was being pounded by some unseen force.

Greyson's breath caught in his throat as he scanned the fog around him, but the dense mist limited his vision to mere feet. The footsteps grew louder, now accompanied by a low, mournful humming - a tuneless melody that chilled him to the bone.

The temperature around him dropped suddenly, and a cold gust of wind blew past, making the fog swirl and revealing, for a brief moment, a silhouette, a tall figure that was neither man nor beast, its face obscured by a thick mat of hair with eyes of yellow. Just as quickly as it appeared, the fog closed in again, swallowing the figure from sight.

Orion, called out in distress, rearing up with a sense of urgency. Greyson struggled to calm him down, his own heart hammering in his chest. The humming grew louder, and the footsteps seemed to be coming from all directions, disorienting Greyson and making escape seem impossible.

As he tried to find a way out, the voice changed from a hum to a whisper, a cacophony of voices muttering indistinctly, echoing through the trees. "Lost... trapped... forever..." they seemed to say.

Desperation gripping him, Greyson spurred Orion forward, urging the horse to gallop blindly through the fog, hoping to break free from the unseen terror. Behind them, the footsteps quickened, the whispers grew louder, and the chill intensified.

The forest seemed to close in on them, the trees now gnarled and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. The very earth beneath them felt like it was shifting, trying to pull them down into its depths.

Greyson clung to Orion, praying they'd find their way out of this living nightmare. The fog, the whispers, the cold - it all felt like the valley was alive, and it was hungry. 

Orion's hooves thundered on the ground, every muscle in his body straining against the fog's oppressive grip. The once familiar path was now obscured, and the landscape morphed with every passing second. Greyson clung tightly to his mane, the cold air stinging his face and eyes.

Suddenly, without warning, Orion stumbled, sending Greyson tumbling to the ground. Disoriented, he tried to stand, but the heavy fog made it seemingly impossible to tell up from down, left from right.

Gathering his resolve, Greyson pulled himself to his feet, trying to locate Orion. He could hear the panicked calls of his horse somewhere to his right. But what worried him more, was the deliberate, slow crunch of leaves behind him, drawing closer, and closer.

Greyson reached for a fallen branch, holding it like a makeshift weapon, ready to defend himself. From the thick veil of the fog, emerged the figure of the beast.

With a swift movement, the creature lunged at Greyson, but a powerful squeal echoed through the fog as Orion, emerging from the haze, barreled into the creature, knocking it aside.

Seizing the moment, Greyson leaped onto Orion's back, fused as one, they surged down the path. The two of them raced through the oppressive fog, the creature's enraged screams echoing behind them. The path slowly became visible as the fog began to thin, and soon, the dense woods gave way to open land.

Breaking through the clouds, the sun cast away the remnants of the fog and revealing the familiar terrain of the Genesee Valley. Man and horse did not stop until they reached The Hotel Genesee.

The encounter left a lasting impression. The once serene valley now held a haunting secret, a guardian that would forever remind him of the thin line between the known and the unknown. The story of the creature would be passed down through generations, a chilling tale of the mysterious protector of the Genesee.

And so, the legend was born. 

To this day, those who dare to ride the Greenway through the Genesee Valley, whisper tales of the beast. Some say they can hear footsteps in the autumn fog, while others swear, they've seen yellow eyes watching them from the woods. But one thing is certain, under the cover of a heavy mist, in the heart of the Valley, lies a creature, waiting, for its next, encounter.

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The events in this story are purely fictional while the places are tangible.  The stretch of the old Canal is now a Greenway stretching from Rochester to Hinsdale NY.  The Hotel Genesee still stands today, now known as the “Yard of Ale,” a haven from the dense autumn fog that blankets the valley

Thank you for listening, if you like the content of this podcast be sure to like, follow, subscribe wherever you listen.  Until next time, happy trails.