Ghost of the Valley

I never hear the howling anymore.

The first time it caught my attention was while walking the dogs in my local park.   OHHHHHHHHHWAOOOOOOOOO... was what it sounded like, off in a distance.  Wolves?  Coyotes?  I wasn't sure.

I continued on with my walk, all the while listening to the sound of maybe some sick animal that more or less resembled an eerie ghost from an episode of Scooby Doo.

OOOHHHEEEEYOOOOOOOOOWAAAAAAAARAAAAAAAA.....

It was getting louder.  I was obviously walking toward whatever it was, and noticed the fluctuating intonation.

Not an animal, I deduced.  But what, then?  It didn't sound human, but it didn't sound like anything recognizable from the standpoint of a walk along a wooded trail.  I became nervous.

LAAAAAAAAEEEEYOOOOORAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWW 

It was almost like a crescendo.

Then I caught site of the source.  Alone by the riverbank, gearing up to let out another ghostly howl, stood an elderly Asian man, belting out opera at the top of his lungs.