Welcome to the fourth week of the Spring Writing Challenge!
You all did so well with your stories last week! There were so many interesting and unique ways you interpreted the prompt. It’s now the fourth week, so it’s time to do it again! Will your story have an epic battle between good and evil? A long-lost evil brother? Whatever you decide, we can’t wait to see what you come up with.
So, without further ado, here’s your next prompt!
Week Four Prompt – The Theme Prompt
Write a story that’s about a
Bigfoot Reunion
Wait…what’s a theme prompt?
A theme prompt is a prompt that’s about a particular subject! It doesn’t matter where your story takes place, who’s in it, or what’s said. The only thing that matters is that your story must be about a Bigfoot Reunion.
Before you start writing, we have some important rules for you to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the stories you post to a PG rating. Please avoid real curse words. Violence/fighting should be limited and purposeful. Please do not include any spice.
2. Your story must be 1,000 words or less, and must contain the prompt to be counted for the challenge. You’re not required to post it in order to “win” the challenge, but if you want it to count for your team, your story must be posted by Sunday at 11:59 PM ET, and you must include your team name.
Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom of the page and post your story as an “answer” to this question, not a “comment”. 🙂 You’re all doing such a great job! I’m so proud of all the stories you’ve posted.
Happy Writing!
The B.I.G.F.O.O.T. Reunion by Ben Avery, Team 1 (Reepicheep)
Ten years. Ten years to the day since they last gathered together as a group the summer after their senior year.
Ken Skerrit stood outside Bethany’s Diner, marvelling at how much it hadn’t changed.
Inside, the chairs, he benches, the tables: all unchanged. Just a bit more beaten up, torn, and frayed.
In the back corner Danny Cartwright sat at their round table. He, too, had not changed: he still wore black, hair still greasy, scowl still everpresent. He sat in the back corner, as always. Even his voice was the same: “I took the liberty of ordering for everyone. Cheesy fries will come when the others get here.”
On the table, six cherry Cokes. One for each of them, although two would not be touched.
“Is everyone coming?”
A shrug. “Think so. Everyone except–”
“You sons of biscuits!” an overly jovial voice shouted. Skerrit turned to see Philip Weaver. Once the smallest in the group, he now looked to be 350 pounds. A trim goatee accented his double chin. But that smile? That was the same smile.
Weaver pulled Skerrit into a warm hug then offered his hand to Cartwright. They shook, and Weaver dropped himself into a chair.
“That just leaves Holm,” Cartwright said.
“She’s coming?”
“Not coming,” a familiar voice sang, “I’m here.”
Making her way past the booths and tables, Karrie Holm carried herself gracefully, but to Skerrit it was a sad grace. A heavy gentleness.
Skerrit wondered how the others were judging him.
Holm sat next to Weaver, who patted her hand. She answered his gesture with a warm smile.
Skerrit sat on the other side of Cartwright.
“I call this meeting of B.I.G.F.O.O.T. to order,” Weaver announced.
The others laughed. “Never thought I’d hear those words again,” Holm said.
Cartwright picked up his cherry Coke. “A toast.”
“Is this regular Coke?” Wever asked. “I’m cutting carbs. Lost thirty pounds already.”
“That’s great!” Cartwright answered, then: “One toast will be fine.” He motioned to the empty seats. “To missing friends.”
Matt Kotto and Jamie Hurt. Missing friends. Everyone, even Weaver, lifted their glasses, tapped them together, and drank. The cool, carbonated liquid and its vaguely cherry flavor took Skerrit back for a moment. Back to when they were teenagers, sitting around this very table – their Round Table – about to share a plate of cheesy fries and compare notes from their investigations.
Weaver set his glass down and then pushed it away from him. “The Bureau of Investigating Ghosts, Fiends, Oddities, and Otherworldly Terrors.: ‘We seek in the shadows what is hidden from the light.’”
“Holm,” Cartright said, “is it insensitive to ask about Kotto?”
She shook her head slightly. “No. Not at all.” She and Kotto had been the only two in the group who had stayed in contact after the disbanding.
“I gotta know. When you and Kotto finally hooked up and got married, did you still call each other by your last names? And are you still Holm? Should we call you Kotto, too?”
With her wistful smile, Holm said, “I didn’t take his last name. And yes. We did. His family never understood, but it was part of the B.I.G.F.O.O.T. charter!”
They all laughed.
She told them about their life together. Some parts, they knew. Kotto had contacted the group shortly after his diagnosis, connecting them all on social media. She shared about their jobs, their son. She talked about Kotto’s cancer.
Skerrit saw Cartwright’s eyes tearing up.
Of course, Kotto was not the first member the group had lost.
The cheesy fries came and for the next hour, they talked. They laughed, they joked, they reminisced.
Weaver was now a dentist with a wife and two daughters.
Cartwright never left town and took over his dad’s towing business.
Holm gave more details about her writing career and her son.
Skerrit told them about his teaching job.
And then the conversation turned. Turned to their investigations of ghosts and UFOs and sasquatches and the unknown. Turned to Hurt.
The name, the mission, the charter, the purpose statement: that had all been driven by Hurt. She had pulled them all in, like moons around a planet. In 7th grade, she sold them on the mission. All it took was a little passion and a cool acronym.
Suddenly they were paranormal investigators. And as time went on, they grew more and more serious. A few times, they documented something that could almost have been interpreted as potential paranormal activity: noises in the graveyard, lights above the quarry, missing pigs at the Stanton farm, voices in the woods.
Those years felt like an eternity of friendship and bonding and adventure; B.I.G.F.O.O.T. became a respite from the difficulties of school and family and growing up.
Until the week after graduation. A rumble in the woods was dismissed as a small earthquake, but they knew it could be something more.
In their investigation, Hurt saw something. She kept returning, over and over. Sometimes with the group, sometimes just with Skerrit, sometimes alone. That was the summer of change: they were getting ready for college, for life, for Whatever Comes Next. They didn’t have time for B.I.G.F.O.O.T.
The night of what would become their final meeting at Bathany’s, she went into the woods alone.
She never returned.
It felt good to talk about her after all this time. Cathartic. He was surprised. He hadn’t realized he’d been carrying such an emotional weight.
When it was time to leave, they agreed to come back again in a year.
Skerrit got in his car, but instead of driving home, he went to the place in the forest where she had left her car ten years ago. He found the path she was believed to have taken.
He walked into the woods. Seeking in the shadows what is hidden from the light. One last time.
I like that you used BIGFOOT as an acronym. And, of course, what it stood for set us up for mystery and the ending. I also enjoyed the character and relationship definition, which is hard to get at in under 1000 words.
Gave me “Class of ’57” Statler Brothers vibes. (: It would be a cool idea to extend into a larger piece! Thanks for the story Ben!
I really like this one, Ben! So many questions for you to expand on. I bet you could write a great short story, novella, or even a full-length novel if you expanded on this. Great use of the prompt this week.
Nice. I enjoyed this.
i agree with other comments. Expanding this would be great!
This was so good! I can totally see this as a whole series! It touches on a lot of different topics that are fun, deep, and heart-warming. I enjoyed this!
I was smiling about the acronym! Bravo and well told!
Cool use of bigfoot as an acronym! Even cooler, the Alien cast references. *fist bump*
Once Every Generation
By Eliza June Sapphire (Team 1)
Marla adjusted her backpack straps, the weight of grief and discovery pressing between her shoulder blades. Her boots sank into the mossy loam of the Pacific Northwest. In her coat pocket, the cryptic, hand-drawn map crackled with each step—her grandfather’s final field notes. Aged and stained with cedar oil, the pages were an unexpected gift. She’d found the map tucked between the fading pages of his journal. It wasn’t much to go on—just a sketch of an acorn, the same as the necklace he’d given her. His careful script contained a single word: Ours. The only clue he’d left was The Meeting Place, written at the top in his scripted handwriting.
She followed the scent of something that shouldn’t be there—wood smoke and stew, maybe wild garlic—and the faint hum of music that drifted through the trees like wind whistling through hollow bark. It was the off-season, and Marla hadn’t expected to run into anyone else on her grief-soaked expedition.
“Almost there, Gramps,” she whispered.
Though he was gone now, she never felt closer to him than out here, where moss cradled trees like memory and stories hung in the air like mist.
At the crest of a ridge, Marla stopped cold.
The clearing below resembled a scene from her grandfather’s bedtime stories. Lanterns bobbed between towering firs like stars trapped in branches. Logs ringed a bonfire. And moving among them—shapes. Massive, shaggy, fur-covered, unmistakably not human—gentle giants moved through golden light. One lifted a gnarled mug and barked out a toast.
“To kin, gathered near and far!”
The crowd—at least two dozen towering Bigfoots—roared with delight, slapping backs and clinking carved wooden cups.
Marla, unsure of whether to run for her life or take a chance, stepped forward. The foliage rustled with a thousand tiny sounds, a collective turning of heads and a hush descending on the forest as every creature watched her. The last air from her lungs squeaked out in a croak.
One stepped forward—older, towering, thick with silver fur and quiet authority. He stooped slightly, peering up at her. His amber eyes softened as they settled on the locket around her neck.
“You’re Emmett’s girl,” he rumbled, voice thick with memory.
The murmurs spread like wind through leaves.
Marla’s fingers went instinctively to the simple acorn carved from antler, passed down from her grandfather. Her pulse thudded. The stories. The drawings. Riddles she once thought were just her imagination. They weren’t fiction—they were memory.
“You knew him?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
The elder chuckled, a sound like wind in a hollow log. “Knew him? Emmett carved half the stories on the Tree.” He nodded across the clearing.
Marla followed his gaze to a massive trunk that seemed to hold up the sky. Its bark was etched with hundreds of symbols—slashes, spirals, and names like forgotten runes. They echoed the ones her grandfather used to sketch in the margins of his maps.
“My grandfather—he wasn’t just documenting you?”
“He was one of us,” a young Bigfoot said, stepping forward, “in a manner of speaking, anyway.” His fur was bark-brown, his eyes bright with curiosity. He held a woven bowl filled with steaming tubers and mushrooms. His voice was deep, inviting.
“I’m Thistle,” he said. “Come eat. You’ve got stories to catch up on.”
Still stunned, Marla followed Thistle toward the fire. Someone pressed a bowl into her hands. Another offered her a strip of bark etched with swirling berry-dyed symbols.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“The Reunion,” Thistle said. “It happens once every generation. A time to remember, reconnect, and welcome those who carry our legacy.”
Marla’s pulse quickened. “Why me?”
“It’s in your blood, passed down through Emmett. He was the chosen one of his generation,” said the elder. “And Emmett chose you.”
Marla looked around—the carved Tree, the faces full of hope, the space saved at the fire. This wasn’t a coincidence.
This was a passing of the torch. The intricate markings on the Tree weren’t random—they were a living record, a tapestry of symbols and scars that whispered tales of time. A family tree.
Now beside her, the Tree loomed, its carvings sharp and detailed under the moonlight. One name leapt out—Emmett—etched beside a spiral that matched the one on her locket. Her grandfather’s name was etched beside a spiral that matched the one on her locket—with an empty space left beneath it.
It was waiting for her.
Myth, it turned out, was memory.
Her eyes welled with unexpected tears.
“We only gather once a generation,” Thistle said softly. “Some come back. Some don’t. The stories live on either way. But when someone carries them forward—that’s when the roots grow deeper.”
Marla glanced back toward the dark trees behind her, the world she came from. Then forward, toward the fire and the Tree. This wasn’t just a reunion. It was a choice.
She pulled her sketchbook from her bag and sat by the fire.
“This time,” she whispered, “I’m writing the stories down for us.”
Above, the stars blinked through the canopy like curious eyes. And around her, the family she never knew she had stomped and sang beneath the Tree that remembered everything.
A weight lifted—one she hadn’t realized she was carrying.
Gramps hadn’t told her stories to entertain her.
He’d been preparing her.
Not just to find The Meeting Place—but to decide whether to stay.
She looked back at the gathering, the firelight dancing in their fur, the laughter echoing like wind through pine.
She’d come looking for connection—and found a calling instead.
Now she understood.
She was part of the story.
And tonight, the story was hers to keep—or let vanish.
I really enjoyed this, particularly the gentle way you wove the story and the imagery you used to paint a picture of the environment for the reader.
Thanks, Isabella. So far, this prompt has been the hardest for me!
Nice story! There’s some good imagery and themes running through it–great job!
Thanks, Noah. This has been the hardest prompt for me so far!
Team Reepicheep
Half-blood
My mom sure knows how to drive a Jeep. She powers the Wrangler down a thin dirt road that I’m sure was created by deer. The car barrels over rocks and brush, bouncing up and down like a boat across rough waves. Her gaze is intense, locked on the Canadian terrain ahead.
I hang on for dear life. I can’t blame her for being anxious. Nerves jitter through my own veins at the thought of where we’re heading, or rather, who we’re heading for.
My neck prickles like it always does when I’m nervous. I scratch the longer than natural hair that insists on growing there.
“Parker,” Mom scolds. I drop my hand to my side. She doesn’t like it when I itch.
Look, I didn’t ask to be a freak. I mean sure, excessive body hair has its pros. One halloween I dressed up as a werewolf. All I needed was a pair of fake ears and fangs. The little kids gawked at me like I was a Marvel superhero. That was pretty cool.
Three days after I turned seven the doctor diagnosed me with hypertrichosis. When I asked him to repeat that in English, he said it was a condition that caused excessive hair growth across my whole body. That revelation was awesome for about a week.
“We’re almost there,” Mom chirps from the driver’s seat, although her voice is strangled with unease. Wisps of dark hair escape her claw clip. Her inky wing is slightly smeared. She never wears her eyeliner like that.
I bite my lip as the Jeep rips down the road. Pine branches swipe the car’s side like a cat batting a toy. I’ve never been this deep into the British Colombian woods.
After a minute of silence, she clears her throat. “Parker.” She clutches the wheel like she’s trying to choke it.
I clench my jaw. I know that tight, anxious tone, like she’s afraid her words will flip my emotional switch. I wish she would just spit it out and let me control my own reaction.
“Have you ever wondered,” Mom continues cautiously, “the truth about your…condition?”
I stare at her. “No. I have hyper-hairy whatever it’s called. Why?”
She swallows and flexes her grip on the wheel.
“Have you?” I prod.
More times than not my condition has been the ruin of my rep. In grade school, beady-eyed kids called me enough creative names to fill a dictionary. I told myself that I didn’t mind. I got pretty good at telling that lie. Then the bullying got physical. Mom whipped me out of public school the day I came home with an eye the color of a plum. Homeschooling suited me better, I guess. The only person left to run their mouth at me was…me.
The doctors promised that hypertrichosis was not a freakish phenomenon. I never doubted them.
Not until today.
Mom wets her lips. “What if I told you…the doctors are wrong?”
My heart flips and plunges into my stomach like those Olympic divers. “I’m pretty sure you just did. Mom, what are you talking about?”
Suddenly we veer off the pencil-width trail into a small clearing. A cabin sits in the center, quaint and a bit sloppily constructed. Olive green moss carpets the gable roof, spilling off the edges.
Mom turns the car off. She unbuckles. She doesn’t move.
For a moment I forget our conversation.
We’re here.
I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I could comprehend waiting. I feel slightly sick.
She reaches over and takes my hairy hand. “Parker, I’ve never told you the truth about why your father left.”
I squeeze her palm. It hasn’t been easy for her, raising a humanoid dog like me on her own. I know my dad left before I was born. I always thought it was because he simply didn’t want a family.
Mom lets go of my hand and pops her door open, suddenly dropping the topic. “Come on,” she encourages. “He’s going to love meeting you.”
I hop out of the Jeep. “Either that,” I mutter, “or he’ll call the cops reporting a Sasquatch sighting.”
Mom stiffens like a taut rope. “Don’t say that.”
I frown. She usually takes my self-derogatory jokes patiently.
We approach the front door. It looks like a troll slapped together two tree trunks and crammed them into the frame.
Mom smooths her ice blue blouse. She raps on the door, then takes my hand again.
We wait. I feel like my heart is stomping up stairs, climbing into my throat.
What was Mom going to say about my condition? What does that have to do with why we’re here, visiting my father for the first time ever?
The door creaks open and in one horrific moment I understand everything.
The man standing before us looks like a mix between Chewbacca and Dwayne Johnson. His bulky frame dwarfs my petite mother. Coarse chocolate hair coats his unbelievably jacked body. I cannot tell where his waterfall of a beard ends. His face is handsome, no doubt, but in a disproportionate kind of way. My mind flashes back to Greek mythology and I can’t help thinking that this giant resembles the god of fire, Hephestus, only much, much hairier.
And his feet. They’re the size of a gourmet frying pan.
My vision blurs. My mom says something that I do not hear. I stare at my enormous, hairy father.
I don’t dare think of the word I had just joked about a minute ago.
This cannot be real.
Billions of puzzle pieces settle into place, forming a nightmarish picture.
My father is not human.
And neither am I.
“Parker,” Mom soothes.
I swallow the bile creeping up my throat.
I turn and run.
Fun story! Very Percy Jackson-esque in premise!
I love the suspense and reveal!
Thank you guys! Yeah the PJO twist kinda came out of left field 😅
I love Parker’s sarcastic-but-genuine voice! Great story!
Team A
It’s kind of about a bigfoot reunion I guess, hopefully enough to count.
It started when I was in the food court of the place big people call “Costco,” trying to find crumbs to give to our mice landlords. It was a calm day, but still kind of busy, yet not busy enough to be a good crumb day. That’s when I felt the especially hard thumping. I’d never experienced this before, but it felt just like the way all survivors describe an encounter with… a bigfoot.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” said the bigfoot in his booming voice. A normal big person lady was staring at him as if he were weird, since normal big people can’t see this guy’s extra large feet or tiny people like me.
“Ted?” came another deep, loud voice from behind him. It was another bigfoot. One of them is bad enough, but two of them? A bigfoot reunion?
“Bill!” boomed Ted. “Long time no see!”
“Haha! How’ve you been doin’, ol’ buddy!” The two of them bro hugged, and Ted launched into a story about how he was working with the Bigfoot Council to work out a problem to help bigfoots whose homes were lost to small-footed big people lumberjacks.
I was about to use this opportunity to escape, when I saw it… a big toddler had dropped a whole big crumb of his pizza crust… and it even had sauce on it. I raced over to it… this would be a perfect offering to the mice we live in terror of. Maybe I’d go straight to the big guys (of the mice) and give it to Ronald Mouse Jr…
“If only we had someone small enough to fit in a mouse hole and steal the key, but naturally there’s no chance of asking a mouse to do it, the dirty backstabbers, and all the tiny folk are too scared of us to approach them.” He turned toward where I had been standing, looking sad. “See, there was one here just now…”
Seeing how sad the bigfoot was triggered something in me. He may be a big scary monster who could accidentally step on me at any time and not realize it (and he may have a bit of an extraordinary odor), but he needed help. Mama always told me to help anybody I met who was in need. It would be wrong to just leave this guy there…
So, in spite of myself, I ran back over to him, and yelled up at him, hoping he could hear me.
“Mister?” my voice naturally came out as barely a squeak.
“Yeah?” he said, facing me, his voice almost knocking me back into the table leg.
“Um, I can’t help but overhear,” his bigfoot voice is loud enough to travel over the voices of the normal big people, “but it sounds like you might need my help.”
~~~
“And that’s the story of why I helped steal that key for the bigfoots.”
“Bravo, bravo!” chanted Councillor Fred as he clapped for the end of my story.
“May I ask a question?” Councillor Audrey asked, already asking a question, a fact nobody noticed.
“Yes?” Em barely managed to squeak out. The councillor was giving her infamous glare, and Em was really scared of it.
“What exactly did the bigfoots need that key for?”
“Um,” Em was trying her hardest to get those words out. “Well, they were using it to free a bear who was captured by big people for trying to get food from them…”
“So you were sneaking around, trespassing on someone’s private property, and stealing, to help a bigfoot free a bear?”
Em nodded.
“You are aware of the Great Bear Attack of ‘97 and its disastrous consequences, correct?”
She nodded again.
“You are aware that even if big people can’t see us, our council still has strict law enforcement against crimes against them, correct?”
Her nodding was at its weakest this time.
“So you expect me just to excuse you of these crimes for no reason because your mother indirectly told you to do it?”
Em no longer had the strength to nod.
Councillor Audrey wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Just wait a moment,” Councillor Fred spoke up. “This girl clearly had nothing but noble intentions, and she was helping a wild animal be free!”
“She illegally helped one of our many enemies release a horrifying monster back into the wild!”
“But she’s still way more noble than I’ve ever seen you be!”
Councillor Audrey glared at him. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to vote you guilty.” She held up her not guilty sign, realized her mistake, and switched signs.
“Well, I vote you not guilty!” Councillor Fred declared as he held up his not guilty sign with full intention.
There were no other councillors to break the tie. “It’s moments like this we need more than two councillors,” complained Councillor Audrey. “Well, I guess you can go free for now, but if I catch you helping any more bigfoots, you might not get off free next time.”
Em sighed in relief as she walked free from charge, leaving the council room to the sound of Councillor Fred yelling, “next!”
By: Izzy C Porter
I really hope someone likes this bc I’m not used to posting my story this early into the week and didn’t even wait for the writing lesson this time…
I LOVE THISSS, I love the quirky fantasy vibes. Also congrats on being the first story this week!!🩷
This story is so cute! I love the “bro hug” part 😂!
Love it! How fun! Makes me think a little of Despereaux Tilling. <3
Quirky fantasy is a good description. Fun story.
I could totally picture the mouse meeting (and hear their squeaky voices too) It was a really fun read, great job!
Um this story isn’t about a mouse… sry, I probably wasn’t being very specific in my story
Oh my bad lol, sorry, I just assumed based off of the mice landlords in the first paragraph, you probably explained it better and I misread it
I think you did a great job! sometimes our quickest writing is our best work!
“Skunk Ape”
By: Hannah Stiff, Team A
Jase Bailey was going to put the town of Muse on the map. He grinned as he eased back in his seat, glancing up at the giant oaks surrounding their campsite.
There was a muffled yelp, and he turned to see Cody wave his arms like a cheerleader before falling from his chair.
“C’mon man!” Jase hissed.
“Look I’m sorry, ‘kay? But I think I just got stabbed!” Cody stumbled to his feet, rubbing his neck.
“Keep checking your phone like that and the gallinippers will get you before Skunk Ape does,” Jase snickered. “You’re a beacon for every bloodsucker 5 miles around.”
Cody growled and sunk deeper into his hoodie. “Do you Floridians have any non-deadly wildlife?”
“If ya wanted safe, ya shoulda gone to Disney World.”
Cody edged his chair a little closer to Jase’s. “How’d you get Aunt Leanne to let us do this? We’re in the middle of nowhere!”
“As long as I bring my anti-venom and rifle,” Jase shrugged, “Mom lets me go camping whenever I want.”
Cody blinked. “See, I’ve only ever used a Nerf gun, and you said you were seven when you got to—”
“Five,” Jase corrected. “Dad got me this one after I shot my first gator,” and he patted the Winchester beside him.
Cody was silent for a few moments. “Bro,” he finally said, “Your family’s got problems.”
Jase chuckled and reached for his thermal scope. The floodplain forest was still, save for the saw palmettos swaying to a warm night breeze.
“Sooo, you gonna shoot Bigfoot when he gets here?”
“Skunk Ape.”
Cody rolled his eyes. “The rest of the U.S.A calls it Bigfoot.”
“Yeah, my state my rules,” Jase countered, “And no, I want to shoot him with a camera, not a rifle.”
“And your neighbor lady saw him last night?”
“Yup.” Jase stretched. “He was making for this area, and on two legs too. She could see his red hair—”
“Skunk Ape’s got red hair?”
“You read the article I sent you, right?”
“Nope.”
Jase sighed. “‘The Skunk Ape is between five and seven feet tall with mottled red hair, commonly purported to emit a foul odor, and resides in southeastern United States.’”
“Hey, it could be you with that description!” Cody exclaimed with widening eyes.
Jase whammed a pillow into his cousin’s face before continuing. “He’s been sighted all over Florida, for decades now.”
“SkunkFoot must be an octogenarian at this point,” Cody remarked. He glanced at Jase. “I thought we could compromise on the dude’s name.”
Before Jase could find another missile to launch, a throaty grunt sounded from the brush across from them. Cody gasped as Jase shoved the camera into his gut.
“You get the shot, I’ll cover for us in case Skunk Ape’s grumpy,” Jase whispered, his Winchester cocked.
“How d’ya know it’s him?” Cody’s eyes were as round as the full moon that shone on the grove.
“I’ve heard every sound the Florida bush makes, and that is not one of them.” Jase murmured as another grunt followed by a branch snap met their ears.
The boys turned to stone as a lumpy figure trundled out from behind an oak, rocking its head back and forth as it surveyed its surroundings. A shaft of moonlight caught its shaggy head and revealed its face.
“Sweet Caroline!” Cody squeaked, “It’s an orangutan!”
The creature made a shrill kissing sound, its wrinkly face dividing into more creases as it did so.
A crash came from the left side of the clearing, and two more orangutans materialized and ran to meet their friend.
“What the…” Jase exclaimed under his breath.
“Bro, I thought these things come from Asia?” Cody protested.
“They do,” Jase spoke slowly, watching the primates reach out to hug each other. “They’re not wild.”
“How do you know?”
Something emerged from around a saw pine, and Jase’s neck hairs shivered. This had to be a male! His wide gray face was framed with scarlet fur, and his arms were twice the size of the others. With a lurch, he stood to his feet and jerkily waved to the others.
“Does a wild ape do that?” Jase asked quietly as the male bowed to his adoring audience. “Besides, I read orangutans are loners, they don’t congregate like this normally.”
“It’s a Bigfoot reunion,” Cody breathed. “I mean Skunkfoot. But seriously, where’d these guys come from? A circus?”
“Ya know,” Jase gently uncocked his rifle, “I heard tell of a reserve up north. It’s supposed to be for rescued chimps. Like the ones you see in movies.”
“A retirement home for acting monkeys?”
“Sure. But I didn’t know they had orangutans. The reserve doesn’t like to be in the public eye.”
“So if their residents broke out, they wouldn’t exactly advertise it, would they?” Cody deduced, watching the three smaller ones tussle through the palmettos.
“No.” Jase looked uncomfortable. “It’d make them look bad, like they weren’t taking good care of them.” Cody nodded, and they both fell silent.
“What if they aren’t? I mean, we don’t know but…” Jase didn’t finish his thought. A tiny squeak pierced the air, and an orangutan slowly pulled a squirming object from her chest. A baby with a face as ancient as her mother’s was presented to its aunties, who swarmed it immediately, humming curiously.
Jase yanked the camera from Cody, who was too startled to react. With a click, he pressed the button.
The flash lit up the forest like lightning, and the group scattered, grunting and hooting.
“Jase!” Cody protested. “You weren’t even pointing it at them!”
“I know,” Jase said. He lowered his arm. “I’m not betraying them.”
Cody began to reply, but a grunt interrupted him. The boys peered into the grove and saw the male, standing silently in the center. Facing them. He lifted his arm slowly and wiggled his fingers. Then, with a long sigh, he turned and walked away.
Cool story Hannah! I love the dynamic between the cousins and their two perspectives. I also like how you handled the prompt 🙂
Thanks Madi! This was definitely the most challenging of the prompts so far.
I love the twist of this story but most of all it was the interaction with Cody and Jase that really made the story come to life. You did a wonderful job giving each of the characters a way of interacting that made this story more engaging. Very well written and thought out!
I love the dialogue! “My state, my rules,” haha. Nice job!
Thanks Eunice! I love brother/cousin relationships, and so that definitely was one of my favourite parts of the piece. (:
Thanks Jordan, I liked that bit too, I’m Canadian, but I know some guys in the south of America who talk alot like this. (:
Yeah, fun interactions between Jase and Cody, Hannah. I’m a fan because (1) I also have a Skunk Ape WIP (I didn’t use it for this challenge), so I’m glad to see someone else take that bigfoot angle, and (2) you named a character Jase, so I’m instantly partial. Nice job.
This is so good! I love the talk about how Jase’s family is crazy for letting him shoot a gun at five years old. It’s so random and perfect. Sweet Caroline is one of the best clean exclamations I’ve ever heard! I’m proud to be on team A with you 😆
Go Herbert!🐸
Hey Jason, glad you liked the dynamic between the two, and one of the names stood out to you. (: So cool you’ve got connections with Skunk Ape in your own writing, I learned about him a year or two ago and thought he was a quirky twist on Bigfoot.
Hey Lillie, thanks for your encouragement! “Sweet Caroline” popped into my mind during the writing of this one, and I decided it would fit with Cody’s character type pretty well. Glad you liked that addition!
TEAM HERBERT FOREVER!!
Legends of the Forest
Lucas Helm, Team A
(Note: This is my first attempt at a story told like this so… you have been warned)
As you walk through the forest, you stop. You look at the bright sunlight, filtering through the trees creating a green ambience that restores peace to your mind in this whirlwind of a world. The birds chirp providing a beautiful song to fill the air, but suddenly, it ceases. The once gentle wind now begins to howl as if carrying a mournful cry in the air. If you listen closely, you can hear what it says:
You who come to these quiet groves
Do you search for treasure in all its troves?
Tell me, what do you seek?
Or is it creatures you wish to meet?
If your choice is second of the two
Then I have a tale for you.
Listen closely and do not stray
I will tell you why the Bigfoots ran away.
There once was a time when nature ruled
Mankind had not yet made it a footstool
Together they lived peacefully to last
Until Adam thought he would chance
The fruit from the tree
God had told not to eat of thee.
Yet Adam in his earthly foolishness
Refused to heed
And succumbed to this evil deed.
Man and nature, now turned against
And many beasts met their end.
War raged on, between man, between beast
Until all feared for their lives, the legends not the least.
There were creatures that were few in nature,
Legends told of these beasts later.
Many fell prey to man’s evil greed
But few escaped and began to heed
A warning passed between them
Do not show yourself, otherwise you will tempt him
Tempt man to come and destroy
Destroy the nature God had deployed.
So many legends went into hiding
Some to the far reaches of the frozen arctic, some deep in the Lake of Loch Ness
But the Bigfoot thought smarter than the rest.
To the forest he went, he and his mate
Hide behind nature’s flowery gate.
For years he lay undetected
Until the day his home lay unprotected.
Settlers came and as man did
Took mastery over nature and the Bigfoots hid.
But disaster struck, neither man nor beast could withstand
As a deep flame engulfed all the land.
Who’s fault was it? Who was to blame?
There would be no benefit in playing that game.
Yet a young child, separated from their family
Was lost in the flames, with no hope of vitality.
Yet Bigfoot, even in his anger against man
Saw that this child had been hurt and then
He picked them up, the burden he so gladly bore
The child was safe and Bigfoot was hiding no more.
Back into the woods he retreated,
The flames died down, the enemy seemingly defeated.
Yet hunters heard of this child’s tale
And few believed and went to stare
Into the forest they hunt
The beast’s again bearing the brunt
Of this desolation they had fled from.
The hunters followed the trail like bread crumbs
Soon coming up to the legend’s domain.
He knew any attempt to fight would be in vain.
So the Bigfoot stepped out of his hidden hut
And with a grunt declared to the humans he would end this rut.
He would flee, to the East or West, he did not know,
But to separate the Bigfoots, so the humans could no longer show
The hides of these creatures as trophies on the wall
Hiding alone was best for them all.
With a rush of the breeze
And the falling of trees
The hunters were driven away
But here is where Bigfoot would not stay.
So they fled, the few who were left
Leaving the forest alone and bereft.
Now you come to the woods this day,
And know why the Bigfoots ran away.
But maybe someday, sometime soon,
Perhaps under the light of the full moon,
The Bigfoots would reunite
Without fearing a human fight.
But for that to happen, the humans must get over their pride
And learn to once again with beasts reside.
When Christ returns and creation is restored anew
Then overhead the birds that flew
Would settle down and watch
The reunion of the noble sasquatch
But human who has ventured here,
Turn and know, lend me your ear.
You see the last few Bigfoots to fear
But do not cry, do not shed a tear.
For this reunion may be sad
For it is the last time they will walk together on this land.
So look you human, and make return to your domain
Fight for the cause, and make the change.
You look up and see two large hairy creatures standing in front of you. They have the biggest feet you’ve ever seen. You freeze in fear, but something about them makes you relax. One puts out their massive paw to try and restore the fellowship that was once lost. You take their hand, and know that these beasts are not just animals. You praise God for his wonderful creation, but then a mist shrouds you. You hear an echo, a sad goodbye, and that was the last time Bigfoot was ever seen by man. Perhaps someday when the world is made anew, Bigfoot will walk again with me and you.
There’s a lot of twists in that rhyme. I liked how you incorporated aspects of Eden and Christ’s return. There’s definitely lore elements present. Clever take on the prompt.
I liked the rhyme and rhythm you incorporated.
just wow. truly amazed at this. great job.
I loved how you had it tie in with God making all things new and restoring the relationship man has with animals and beasts. I did research a lot about Bigfoot because of this week’s challenge and a lot refer to the spiritual connections of Bigfoot and how the creature warns humans of impending doom. I think this poetic story tied that in very beautifully.
Team A | Lydia Fiore
My Neighbor Bigfoot
The family is quiet on the drive to their new house. The parents sit in the front, the father driving and the mother holding a paper map; there’s no WiFi out here to use Google Maps. Their nine-year-old daughter Alice sits in the back, chin in her hands as she watches the countryside go by her window. They’ve been driving for hours, and the conversation and car games have long since died out. The silence is only broken with the occasional direction from Alice’s mother.
“Only a little longer,” her father says after a few more moments. “Just a few more turns and we should be there!”
“I wish we were moving on to a farm, with chickens and cows,” says Alice. “It would be much more interesting than just another old house.”
Her father laughs. “We’re stretching our abilities just by moving away from the city and being near farms. We’d never be able to own one ourselves.”
Alice sighs but she knows he’s right. Her mother is a books-Pilates-baking type of mom, and her dad is an accountant. They wouldn’t know the first thing about operating a farm. And the new house does sound pretty cool. But still– cows!
“Turn here,” says Alice’s mother. They turn from the main road onto a worn, leaf-strewn path overshadowed by tall trees. “Our new house should be just around the corner.”
Alice is nearly vibrating with excitement, and she doesn’t have to wait long. The car turns the corner and slows to a stop in a clearing from the trees, on an overgrown lawn. She unbuckles and jumps out of the car as soon as her dad puts it in park, nearly knocking over the suitcases stacked on the seats beside her. She runs around the side until she’s in front of the car, eyes bulging as she takes in her new house.
Only– its not the house, as charming as it is, that first draws her attention. It’s the ginormous footprints right in front of her, starting from the edge of the clearing and continuing around the side of the house.
She hears her parents get out of the car and come stand beside her. The air is tense and silent for a moment. Then her dad speaks, his voice a little faint. “Lizzie, what did you say this street was called again?”
A rustling of paper from her mother. Then, in an equally faint voice; “Oh, Greg. It’s Bigfoot Lane.”
Several things then happen at once. Alice’s dad grabs her by the collar and tries to haul her back to the car; a loud crash sounds from behind the house; her mother screams. Alice wrestles free of her father’s grasp and turns to see what made the crash.
And there he is– Bigfoot. Alice has seen a few pictures on the Internet, enough to know what stands in front of the house. But none of them can compare to a Bigfoot in person. He towers a few feet above her already-tall dad. Alice feels her mother’s hands grab her arm, but she couldn’t move if she tried.
Then the Bigfoot speaks. It takes Alice a moment to process what he said– just a simple greeting. Then she processes something else. His voice– high pitched and feminine. Almost like…
“Hello,” repeats the Bigfoot, and Alice’s mom’s grip tightens on her. “Who are you?”
Alice waits for her parents to respond, but both of them seem to have lost their ability to speak. She clears her throat. “H-hello, ma’am–”
The Bigfoot’s face brightens– maybe. It’s hard to tell what expressions a Bigfoot is making. “I’m flattered,” she interrupts. “I almost always get mistaken for a man.”
“Do you… do you live here?” Alice’s dad seems to have recovered his voice.
“I do,” says the Bigfoot. “Well, sort of. The house is a nice disguise for the den behind it. By the way, my name is Ellie.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” says Alice. “I’m Alice.”
Ellie nods at her. “Might I ask what you three are doing here? I love visitors who don’t run screaming as soon as they see me, but this isn’t the most opportune time. I’m hosting a family reunion and they should be arriving any moment.”
One of Alice’s mother’s hands leaves her daughter’s sleeve to press itself over her heart. “You mean… there are more of you coming?”
“Quite right,” says Ellie. “Aunts, uncles, cousins– the whole lot of them. They’d love to meet you, but I can’t promise you’d leave uninjured. The kids are a little rough with their toys, you know.”
“I’m sure,” says Alice’s dad, discreetly wiping sweat off his face. “Well, we wouldn’t want to interrupt your- your reunion. We’ll just, er, leave.”
“But Dad,” says Alice, grabbing his sleeve as he turns back to the car. “This is our house. We don’t have anywhere to go.”
Her dad looks a little like he wants to slap her.
“This is your house?” Ellie asks, sounding pleased. “Why didn’t you just say so? I’ve always wanted neighbors. Well, don’t let me stop you from settling in!” She takes a few lumbering steps away from the front door.
“But… your family reunion,” says Alice’s mom.
Ellie waves a hand. “They won’t bother you if you stay in the house, I promise. They don’t have to know you’re here.” She winks.
“Well, thank you…” says Alice’s dad, looking like he’s desperately searching for an excuse.
“Come on, Dad!” Alice says. “How often is it that you get to witness a Bigfoot reunion?”
“Exactly!” Ellie says. “Let me help you with your car.”
Case closed. Alice’s parents know better than to argue with an eight-foot Bigfoot; especially one who’s currently dragging their car into their garage.
That night, Alice listens to the sounds of Bigfeet partying as her parents tuck her in. “I take it back,” she says. “There’s no way a farm would be more interesting than this.”
- inspired by the anime My Neighbor Totoro!
You totally had me on the edge of my seat when she saw the footprints!! This is beautifully written ✨
I love how you really made the scene feel like it was happening right in front of me!!
This one is so fun!
This was so cute! I love the homely My Neighbor Totoro vibes. And Ellie and Alice’s interaction was very sweet. This story is very lovely
thank you Jordyn!! aww that’s truly the highest praise you can give a writer 🥹💞 thank you sm!!
thanks Izzy!! <3
thank you so much Eunice!! aww haha I’m glad you think so, I love the anime sm!! tyyy <3 🫶
Team A
I am always open to comments and critiques. I’ve never tried this genre before.
What makes a BigFoot?
I wiped sweaty hands on my dress before reaching up to knock the code on the door rap, rap, rappity-rap. After a pause, the door open with a creek.
“Passcode?” A rough voice within asked.
“Hairy is better.” I squeaked, then cleared my throat to repeat myself.
“Enter.” The door opened wide.
I slipped in, nearly stumbling upon my synthetic feet. I was born to a Bigfoot family but my feet never grew. I’ve got synthetic feet to make up for that, but it’s still hard to walk in. It does make passing in the human world a lot easier. When I don’t wear my synthetic feet I look like a hairy, large, human woman; but to fit in with my own kind, I need my synthetic feet.
I walked through the dark hallway, which opened up into a brightly lit gala. Over one hundred of my kind filled the room, smiling, raising glasses for toasts, and getting reacquainted. We’re spread all over the Earth to keep from being hunted, a few of us in each country. Every ten years, we get together for a big reunion. It’s the pinnacle event that we look forward to from youth. My nerves are only partially related to my small feet. Last reunion at 19 years old, I tripped on my synthetic feet, and landed in the arms of one of the largest BigFoot in the room, yet his eyes were also the kindest. I never learned his name, but I couldn’t help wonder if he would scoff at my feet the way my peers had at the reunion when I was nine, or if he would accept them.
Standing at the opening to the gala, my eyes blinking, adjusting to the bright lights, I couldn’t help but scan the crowd looking for him. I didn’t know if I would recognize him again, it’s been ten years after all, but I fell drawn towards him. I thought about him a lot the last ten years. Could there be one Bigfoot out there who would be kind and overlook my feet size?
There! He stood in the far right corner, surrounded by Bigfoot females. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one drawn to him. Oh well, I sighed and walked over to a table hidden in the shadows. It was a nice dream, time to come up with a new one.
I sat down alone at the table. Last reunion, I hid out with my parents, who have since passed. I picked up a glass and started to take a sip, bracing myself for a long, lonely reunion. Anyone who remembered me would probably remember my small feet. I was in the middle of a sip when a hand touched my forearm and I heard a deep voice.
“Hello.”
I nearly choked and turned as I was spluttering my water, spewing water all over the speaker. It was him! How did he get all the way over here so quickly? I surreptitiously looked back at the corner I had seen him, which was now empty. Embarrassed, I met his gaze. The corners of his mouth were twitching and humor dancing in his eyes.
“I came to see how you’re doing.” The warmth in his voice soothed me.
He saw me come in? Was he watching for me? Suddenly hope danced in my chest. Maybe I have a chance of being accepted… maybe more?
Before I could respond, two giggling ladies, half a decade younger, interrupted us.
“Lord HairyMouth,” one lady batted her eyes.
My eyes widened in surprise. Lord HairyMouth is the head of all the Bigfoot. I grabbed my water and slipped away when he turned his smile, less bright now, on them.
I found another secluded table in the shadows to sit and observe. I watched the ladies fawn over Lord HairyMouth. How did I think he would notice me? He was probably just being polite to me. I was lost in my own thoughts when, once again, I heard his deep voice from behind me.
“There you are.”
This time I managed to turn without spitting. My cheeks turned bright red at the memory.
I heard the music start and knew the dancing was beginning. Lord HairyMouth stood before me, his hand outstretched.
“Would you care to dance?”
I hesitated. I would love to, but I was bound to trip over my synthetic feet once again. He quirked an eyebrow, keeping his hand outstretched. Throwing caution to the wind, I grasped his hand and he led me to the dance floor. A gentleman, he kept adequate space between us, but those kind eyes and smile captivated me. We danced five dances together and I had managed not to completely trip over my synthetic feet, though surely I appeared clumsy.
After the fifth dance, he led me to my table, offering to bring food. I demurred but thanked him. He nodded and opened his mouth when he was pulled aside for some Bigfoot business.
“I’ll talk to you later, dear TenderFeet,” he whispered.
I blushed at his use of my name but merely nodded.
No one else asked to dance with me that evening, and it was soon over. I waited but each time he headed towards me, someone else pulled him to the side. Gathering up my belongings. I headed out. As I reached for the door at the end of the hall, I nearly squealed when a hand grabbed my shoulder.
“You left before our wedding.” His deep voice curled around me before I realized what he said.
“Our wedding?” I squeaked.
He furrowed his brow. “Did your parents not tell you?”
“They’ve passed.”
“Yes, but they arranged it at the last reunion. We are to be wed in an hour.”
“But my feet…”
“Your feet are not what make you a Bigfoot, your heart is. I’ve followed your reputation, you are loving and kind to all species. Despite your surprise, will you still marry me?”
“Yes.”
This was such a sweet and heart-warming romance, Michele! I didn’t expect to be reading a romance for this theme prompt, but I am certainly delighted! I love how your story flowed and the names are so adorable too and played really well with their personalities and even insecurities. I was just so shocked by the sudden engagement but then again maybe BigFoot customs and traditions are quite different from our own 🙂
Haha, thank you. I’ve read a few regency romances and sometimes the parents plan a wedding without the lady knowing. Plus, I had to find a way to wrap up the story quickly.
TEAM A
Bigfoot Reunion
The Big Foot Field Researcher’s Organization (BFRO) never knew what hit them.
There hadn’t been a single Class A sighting in Kern County since 1976. Sure, there’d been some possible tracks in Tehachapi in 2009 and 2010 (the ones with the possible midtarsal joint present in the photos), and some possible vocalizations outside Inyokern in 2007, but that wasn’t much.
When the reports started flooding in of sightings all over the Lake Isabella area, you couldn’t blame the president of BFRO for feeling skeptical. Bigfoot sighted near the Trail of 100 Giants. Bigfoot sighted crossing Walker’s Pass. Bigfoot sighted by not one, not two, but eight different hikers on the Pacific Crest Trail.
Matthew Halker drummed his fingers against the map. “I just don’t believe it anymore. We’ve been searching, for so many years with no evidence. And now, all this in one week. Someone is pranking us.”
Jimmy chugged down his Red Bull and pulled on his faded cowboy boots. “But Dad, this is our big break. We can’t not investigate. Finally, the whole world will see that Bigfoot is real! It looks like all the sightings are converging on the Johnsondale Bridge.”
Matthew rubbed his forehead. “Oh, Jimmy. I get it, I really do. You’re young and enthusiastic and you still think we’re going to catch one. I used to believe, too, but now I’m mainly just…tired.”
“Can’t we just go see, Dad? Maybe we don’t find anything, but at least we’ll be out there, trying!”
“Well…”
“And you can tell mom that we actually did some male bonding together on your weekend. Maybe she’ll let me see you more if she thinks we’re not just sitting around your cabin watching reality TV all day.”
Matthew frowned. “Is that all that woman thinks we do during my visitation weekends?”
“Yeah, because that is all we do, Dad. But this weekend, we can saddle up the horses and grab our cameras and have a real BigFoot adventure. Just like you used to promise me we would. You know, before you abandoned all hope and all.”
“I didn’t abandon hope, Jimmy. Hope abandoned me.”
“I thought Mom’s name was Jane.”
“That’s right. She abandoned me, too.”
Matthew lumbered to his feet and sucked in his gut. In one motion, he buckled his belt and pulled on his weather-softened cowboy hat. “Alright, son. Let’s do it. Let’s go catch a BigFoot. And show your mom that I’m not quite as washed up as she thinks.”
It took a few hours to get all the equipment ready, but once the horses were loaded up, Jimmy and Matthew began their ride toward the Johnsondale Bridge. They crossed past Lake Isabella, and up the river past Kernville, and everywhere they went, people stopped to talk to them about the BigFoot sightings.
“Are you going to finally get a photograph, Jimmy?” Gushed Brooke when she saw his lanky figure astride the horse at the general store in Kernville.
“We’ll see,” said Jimmy. “And if we do, it won’t be blurry, that’s for sure.”
“Won’t the trip be dangerous?”
“Don’t worry about us. We’re not afraid.” Jimmy stated, sitting up straighter on his
horse as he and Matthew began their final journey toward Johnsondale Bridge. They had to keep to the horse trails to avoid the car traffic on the highways, so the going was slow, but the day was beautiful and the sun streamed through the bull pine trees.
“Can I ask you a question, Dad?”
“Sure, son.”
“Was your search for BigFoot the reason you and mom split up?”
Matthew wiped the sweat off his brow beneath his cowboy hat. “My job, Bigfoot, my taxidermy hobby, fishing, hunting…you name it. All the things I wanted to do, I did. And I didn’t much ask her what she wanted to do. I think she just got lonely and figured if I was never going to be around, she might as well leave. She tried to tell me, in a lot of different ways, but I never really listened. It was my fault, Jimmy. I can’t blame BigFoot.”
As they crested the ridge above Johnsondale bridge, there was a flicker of movement. Branches cracked and there, right in front of them, Jimmy and Matthew clearly saw two tall figures, male and female, emerge from the woods holding hands and descending toward the bridge. Not quite human, not quite simian, they were hairy and naked, with dark fur. And they were strangely beautiful, elegant in their fluid movements.
The horses were calm and unbothered, and as the two BigFoots descended, they seemed not to notice the man and the boy who stared, open-mouthed.
Jimmy reached quietly for his camera, but Matthew mouthed, “no!” and motioned for him to put it away. Jimmy looked frantically at him, but Matthew just shook his head.
In a few moments, the two beings passed out of sight and, far below, Jimmy and Matthew could see the woods around the Johnsondale bridge covered in what looked like hundreds, if not thousands of Bigfoots teeming in a mass like a hive of bees.
“What are they all doing?” Hissed Jimmy.
“I think…I think it’s a reunion,” said Matthew.
They stayed for a while, watching the scene below. Then Matthew turned the horses away, back toward Kernville.
“But Dad, we could get proof! Real proof! BigFoot is real!”
“I know, Jimmy. But I didn’t have the heart to do it. If my family was ever reunited- if I ever got back together with your mom, I wouldn’t want some kid with a camera taking pictures of us. I’d like some privacy.”
“Do you ever think about getting back together with mom?”
“Only every day, son. Only every day. But I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Dad,” said Jimmy, “We just saw an army of the most mysterious creatures on earth meeting together. If that’s possible, then anything’s possible.”
I really liked the way that you used the motifs of separation, search, and reunion in a story about Bigfoot to explore the relationships within a human family.
Mammoth Pines
When Grandpa died, the first thing that no one talked about was who was getting all the money. It was certainly on everyone’s mind, but no one said it out loud. Grandpa had never told any member of our family what would happen to his vast wealth after he was gone. Never a whisper. So, when we were all instructed to make our way to Mammoth Pines for his private funeral, all we knew was that the patriarch of our family, for better or worse, was no more.
Mr. Jenkins, the executor of Grandpa’s estate, made arrangements for everyone to stay at Grandpa’s Mammoth Pines Lodge for the weekend. Everyone was expected to arrive on Friday, attend the funeral on Saturday, and then depart on Sunday. Declining the invitation was not an option. Attendance was a condition of receipt of any beneficiary assets.
I had to ask for two days off work — Friday to travel and the following Monday to recover from whatever drama had transpired over the weekend. I wasn’t sure what the drama would look like, but I knew there would be drama. That’s the way Grandpa liked it. Even in death, he would be sure to produce something of theatrical proportions. Turns out I wasn’t disappointed.
I was the last to arrive. My father and mother met me at the door with perfunctory hugs and directed me to join the rest of the family for an “impromptu” meeting.
“Everyone is in the great room already,” my dad said, “So let’s go.”
I really could have used some dinner and a couple of Advil, but I acquiesced. The rest of the family was in the great room, either sitting on the oversized couches and chairs around the massive fireplace, or gathered near the bar, sipping cocktails. My father’s two siblings, my Uncle Phil and Aunt Janice, were each flanked by their spouses and children. Of my six cousins, I had only ever been close to one of them — Aunt Janice’s oldest daughter, Sarah. Seeing me enter, Sarah jumped up and ran to me.
“Oh, Kate,” she whispered in my ear as she gave me a hug. “This is going to be an epic weekend.”
“Epic how?” I asked, hugging her back. “What do you know?”
She laughed. “I don’t know anything! But you know Grandpa.”
Yes, we all knew Grandpa, at least from afar. None of us had grown up near the man, but we had heard many a story about his quirky and unpleasant nature. Our parents, having lost their mother as young children, had all left home and moved to far-flung places as soon as they were old enough, marrying and raising their families far from the patriarch. There had been the occasional visit to Mammoth Pines over the years, but not recently. As a life-long urbanite, I felt like an alien in the remote mountain forest environment. Rather than refreshing me with its greenery and clean air, it made me feel nervous.
Uncle Phill called the family meeting to attention, tapping on his martini glass with a cocktail spoon. “We’re all here,” he began, “to hear a message from our father — and grandfather.” He held up a sealed manilla envelope which he began to open. “I just want to tell you all that I don’t know what’s in here. Mr. Jenkins sent it to me and told me it should not be opened until we all gathered together for Dad’s funeral, but that it had to be read before the funeral. So, here we are.”
He pulled out what appeared to be a letter and a collection of photographs. He glanced momentarily at one of the photos and froze. “What?”
“What, Phil?” my father prompted. But Uncle Phil shrugged and shuffled the letter to the top of the pile, apparently hoping to find clarity.
“Dear family,” Uncle Phil began reading. “If you are gathered in Mammoth Pines and hearing this, then I’m dead. Happy now?”
Uncle Phil paused. Everyone in the room looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then my cousin Wallace broke the tension with a laugh. “Well, I’m not exactly sad,” Wallace chuckled.
Uncle Phil frowned and continued reading. “I know you’re all wondering about the money. So, before my funeral, I want to get a few things straight. First of all, everyone in the family will get a share. Second of all, you’re not my only family.”
Uncle Phil stopped again and, with furrowed brow, appeared to be scanning the rest of the letter, trying to figure out what was going on.
“Oh, for God’s sake, just read it, Phil!” Aunt Janice shouted.
Uncle Phil continued. “Enclosed are photos of my other family. You will meet them all tomorrow at the funeral. Mr. Jenkins has made all the arrangements. A few years ago I met Sonoqua. She and her children — my step-children — are what people call ‘Sasquatch.’ I think you will find them to be wonderful people. My estate is split equally among all of you. Mr. Jenkins will make sure that all the assets are liquidated and the funds appropriately transferred. I hope you will all get along and perhaps even get to know each other. ”
That was apparently the end of the letter.
Several moments of complete silence ensued, and then suddenly everyone lunged toward Uncle Phil, grabbing for the photos. I picked up one that fell to the floor. It was taken in Grandpa’s living room and depicted a 7-foot tall ape-like woman, covered with reddish-brown hair and wearing a long, red silk robe, standing in front of the Christmas tree where three equally hairy children sat, opening presents.
I suddenly realized that Sarah was looking over my shoulder at the picture. I turned and we looked at each other for a moment, our eyes reflecting a mixture of astonishment and amusement.
“Epic,” Sarah whispered.
I agreed.
Team 1
This was a fun story and it left me wanting more! I definitely was scratching my head with the characters. How did this work? More importantly, what does it mean for this newly blended family. It has all the makings of a sitcom or, honestly, a drama. I’d read more of this…
I really like the way you incorperated the prompt here, and also agree that I’d read more of this. Great job!
Fun premise! I really like your use of the prompt! Great job!
Interesting take for sure. Oh, to be a fly on that wall, he he.
Team Herbert (A)
“Welcome to the Megálo-Pódi Family Reunion!” Georg read the sign as he drove onto the campground. “Seriously, putting it out there for everyone to see!” he grumbled.
“Now, dear,” said his wife, Hildi, patting his knee. “I’m sure that most people don’t know enough Greek to know that’s a literal translation of our people.”
“Still, you think he’d be more careful. I’m telling you, Hildi, ever since Clay Petit got elected, he’s been making odd choices.”
“Georg, dear, we’ve talked about this. You led well for many years. It was time for someone new. We’re long past the Petit versus Groot rivalry of Big Foot history. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be together.” Hildi shook her head. She, too, had never understood why so many Big Foot families had chosen such literal names for themselves. By now, several centuries in, everyone knew Petits were on the smaller side of the population, while Groots were, well, rather large.
“This has nothing to do with him being a Petit!” growled Georg, who was a descendant of the Groot family. “He’s practically advertising with that sign we’re Big Foots! It’s bad enough some of my cousins think it’s fun to befuddle humans. Petits have nothing to worry about – they are close enough to human size they can pass for one easily. Like your Uncle Bob. He made a name for himself playing basketball. He even married a human!”
“Oh, yes, lovely Carole. She was fun at Big Foot reunions like this one.”
“Didn’t you say before that several of your male cousins married humans?” Georg asked.
“Yes, that’s why Philippe – and Roland – were so short. Their ancestors had been marrying humans for years. Emmanuel was second generation, though.” Hildi smiled thinking of her family, distant as they were, they all came together for Big Foot reunions. The famous ones sometimes had a hard time dodging nosey humans, but they came. “You have a famous relative, too. I didn’t grow up playing with a cousin who became a movie star.” She grinned at her husband.
“Hmmph,” grunted Georg. “He had to be called ‘Groot.’ Yeah, everyone thought he was CGI because of his size, but nope. He made a lot of money but nearly outed us all.”
“I heard he’s coming this weekend. You could always ask him.”
Georg gave a noncommittal shrug. “We don’t talk much any – what in the world?” He slammed on the brakes as Hildi reached out to stop the inevitable lurch. He jumped out and peered at the billboard, his frustration mounting. He tapped on Hildi’s window. “We have to park here for now and go to the main lodge. Clay –” Georg nearly spat the name, “– wants a vote about where everyone should stay for the weekend.”
Ten minutes later, the Petit descendants, the Groot descendants, and everyone in between had found seats in the main lodge. Clay Petit stood on a stage in the front. There was loud chattering while some caught up on family gossip and others wondered aloud about Clay’s ‘where to stay’ vote.
“Good afternoon, my Big Foot family!” greeted Clay. “I’m overjoyed that nearly everyone is here this year. It’s been several years since we’ve had such a high attendance. Welcome!”
The chaos quieted to a loud murmur among the crowd. Georg wondered if he wasn’t the only one disappointed with Clay’s changes.
“As you know, the Council has brought forth several things for us to vote on tomorrow. Before that, the Council and I thought it might be fun to offer a change up to our usually sleeping arrangements.” Clay offered the crowd a wicked grin. The gleam in his eye warned Georg and Hildi they weren’t going to like the change. “This year, we would like to have Petit descendants sleep in the Valley Lodge, while the Groot descendants sleep in the Mountain Lodge. Don’t worry – there are four wings in both, so men and women will have separate sleeping quarters. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” He nearly had to shout his question, as so many jumped out of their chairs, raising their voices in disagreement.
“I kind of like sleeping next to my wife!” shouted Georg. Hildi stood next to him, blushing but nodding her head in agreement.
“My children aren’t sleeping somewhere else!” yelled a Petit descendant.
“What about those of us who are descendants of both?” questioned another.
“Ah, yes, well, I suppose you’ll have to choose.” Clay smirked. “Choose wisely.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I vote that we sleep where we want!”
“I’m sorry, the vote was for if it was going to be fun,” soothed Clay. “We’re sleeping separately, at least for tonight. We’ll vote tomorrow on the measures, then proceed from there.”
Hildi and Georg looked at each other and sighed. Georg hugged her. “Whatever is said in your lodge tonight, remember I love you and I will always vote for us.”
Hildi nodded. “I love you, too.”
That night, Georg lay on his bunk, reading the measures the Council was bringing to vote the next day. They were to decide on officially revealing themselves to humans, prohibiting Big Foot and human marriages, and whether to continue to allow Petit and Groot descendants to marry. He shook his head. “No, no, yes,” he whispered before falling asleep. He slept fitfully as he worried for their future.
The next morning, Georg was awakened by several of the Petits. “Georg, your presence is needed immediately.”
He knew this could only mean one thing. He followed them to the main lodge and sat with the Council. “Clay Petit died in his sleep last night. As the most recent Leader of Megálo-Pódi, you are called to lead us until the leadership vote next year. Do you accept?”
Georg closed his eyes. He knew it was natural causes. A Big Foot’s body will turn against them before it allows them to harm another Big Foot. “Yes.” He glanced around the table. “Let’s get to work.”
This was a fascinating history of a creature, it seemed (almost) plausible in the real world. Great job!
Great incorporation of politics in a believable manner. Loved the Groot reference by the way. The end confuses me a little at the same time it intrigues me. Why would a Big Foot’s body turn against them after death? Or do you mean turn against themself? Assuming that was meant to be a mystery or ambigious, nicely done!
Leah – it was meant that if (before death) a Big Foot had the intention (heart “condition”) to harm another Big Foot, then it’s body would turn them against them (shut down, so to speak, I guess).
I had a few more words that I had to cut to make the 1k limit. LOL
The Secret League of Impersonators of Bigfoot
by Lillie Hiesterman
Team A
(content warning: beer is mentioned)
Tim walks across the field, over to the small group of guys laughing and drinking.
“Y’all, I ain’t seen Timmy since he was fifteen!” Lenny exclaims, walking over to slap him on the back. Chuckles travel around the half-circle of tailgates.
“Look at him now, all dressed up,” Jerry says, swinging a cooler down from the back of his truck.
They all grin at the young 20 year old standing before them, wearing a camo-suit turned Bigfoot costume. But Tim realizes he’s alone in this, and wonders if he wasnt supposed to.
“Have a seat!” Jerry says, waving him over. Tim sits in a folding chair next to him and Angus.
“So how long you been doin’ this, kid?” Angus asks.
“About a year,” Tim says, “I couldn’t really start until I finished my suit. Plus, you gotta know the woods around you pretty well so you don’t get lost.” His southern accent was strong, even after moving north for college.
“You got those people over in Martin scared of ya yet?”
“Aw, it’s not even in the paper yet, so I don’t think so. I know y’all’ve been in the paper before.”
“That’s right,” Lenny raises his can of beer in salute. “Angus got in threedifferent newspapers down in Florida.”
Angus smiles, leaning back in his chair. “And as you know, I had to move to North Carolina when they stared getting suspicious.”
“Well, we sure appreciate you comin’ all the way over here for the reunion.” Lenny says to him. “Heck, all y’all came a long ways. Next year we’re doing this in Montana with Jerry.”
They laugh, nodding in agreement, then start passing out drinks. Tim get’s offered several beers, of which he kindly refuses. They settle on giving him a Gatorade. It wasn’t in a cooler, Frank found it in his truck. But it was sealed, so Tim deemed it safe.
“You know,” Jerry says, “I was looking through the social medias, and some information guy posted a chart of all the Bigfoot sightings with one of the known camo suit owners, and they line up near perfect.”
Sitting on a tailgate, Frank frowns and says “Oh, those are just fake Bigfoots.”
There’s a moment of reflection on that statement, then Jerry asks, “You know we’re impersonators too, right?”
“Yeah, but we’re TheSecret League of Impersonators of Bigfoot.” Frank says matter-of-factly
“Or SLIB,” Angus adds.
“Yeah,” Frank nods, “so we’re official.”
Tim shrugs. “It’s just fun for me. Though, my girlfriend knows I don’t hunt, so I’m running out of good excuses for disappearing. And, if she finds my suit, I dont know what I’ll tell her.”
Jerry pops open a can of beer, “Aww, my wife found out about it years ago,”
Lenny spits out his drink. “She whAt now?”
“Yeah, she knows—thinks it’s silly, but she covers for me. Heaven knows why.”
“Well, she’s a special one,” Frank says, “so don’tgo telling your girl about this, Tim. She’ll probably post it on FaceChat or something.”
Tim was about to correct him, but decided against it.
“So, where’d you tell her you were going today?” Angus asks.
“Gone fishing,” Tim points towards the edge of the field, where a fishing pole sticks out of his car window.
Lenny chuckles. “That’ll do it.”
“I’m just lucky she don’t like fishing,” Tim says.
“See, I can never use that excuse ‘cause I got a son who loves fishing, and I ain’t about to let him think I went without him!”
“Are you talkin’ about little Leonard??” Tim asks, “Last time I saw him he was only seven!”
“Yeah, he’s twelve now. He’s a smart kid, I don’t know how long I’ve got until he finds out about all this.” Jerry smiles.
“We all love Leonard,” Frank says, “but don’t tell him about us yet. Teenagers talk to their friends about everything.”
“Heck, I know Leonard wouldn’t tell. Least not on purpose.” Lenny says.
“You’re just defending him ‘cause he’s your namesake,” Frank teases.
“For the last time,” Jerry cuts in, “We did not name our child after Lenny.”
Angus laughs. “I’ll believe that when Frank tells his wife he’s never been pheasant hunting in the mountains.”
“No one even does that,” Lenny says, “pheasants don’t live in the gosh-dang mountains. What kind of lies are you makin’ up?”
“Hey who’s that?” Frank cuts in, gesturing at something behind Tim. They all turn to see a man approaching.
“Hey!” Angus shouts and waves.
“What are you doing?” Frank asks.
The man walks up, wearing overalls. “Who are y’all?” He asks, very confused.
Angus stand up from his chair. “I’m Angus, this is Tim,” he points at the others, “and that’s Frank, Jerry, and Lenny.”
The farmer nods. “I’m Matthew Garner. Did you know this was private property?”
“Huh?” Tim says.
The farmer continues, “This is my field.”
At this point, everyone in the group turns to look at Lenny.
“This is news to me,” Jerry snaps at him.
“What, did you think I owned this field?” Lenny retorts.
“Well, I think we all assumed you at least got permission,” Frank says.
“How did y’all get in here?” The farmer cuts in, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.
Lenny’s uncertain, now that he’s caught. “The gate was unlocked… we just needed a place to meet.”
“I apologize; we’re not here to party,” Angus says, then gestures to everyone but Lenny, “We weren’t aware we were trespassing.”
“Oh please, none of y’all even asked how I found this place. It’s not like I committed a crime or nothin’”
“actually, you did,” The farmer says. “trespassing is illegal.”
They all groan.
“But… if you give me a really good reason for being here, I might let you go. So long as you never come by again.”
No one says anything. They don’t have a good reason. So Tim decides to take things into his own hands.
“You ever heard of Bigfoot?”
Team A
The Bigfoot Reunion
Written by: Vivienne Maxwell
Sally Smith had big feet. If it wasn’t the first thing you noticed about her, it most certainly was the second. She came by it honestly, her daddy had big feet, and she took after him in most ways. She often envied her older sister Claudia’s dainty size sixes, especially now that it was summer.
School was finally out, and Sally’s family loaded into the old SUV to head out of the city. Sally rested her forehead on the window and watched the blurred lines of the freeway zip by. Normally she liked road trips, but she couldn’t get the taunting words from the girls in the neighborhood out of her head. Bigfoot, they called her. That was the last time I wear sandals, Sally thought. She looked down at her feet and tapped the heels of her oversized snow boots together. Her feet were already sweating, but she didn’t want anyone to see her feet.
“I can’t believe it’s been eight years since our last family reunion,” Daddy said. “I wonder if Aunt Martha will be bringing her peach cobbler?”
“Doing okay back there, sweetie?” Momma grabbed one of Sally’s feet and gave it a playful shake.
Sally nodded and looked out the window. Claudia, sitting next to her in the backseat, was checking her hair and makeup in a compact mirror, smiling at herself with approval. Sally wished she could look more like her. Her hair was perfect, her face was perfect, and her feet were perfect.
As the congestion of the city gave way to the open spaces of the country, they pulled onto a winding gravel road. It seemed at first the road couldn’t possibly lead anywhere, but then Sally saw a sign saying “Welcome to the Smith Family Reunion”. Several vehicles were lined up where the gravel road dead ended into a small parking lot, and past that was a tree lined area dotted with picnic tables. Daddy parked the car, and they all got out.
If Sally hadn’t been in such a sour mood, she would have been excited for the adventure. There was a lake to go fishing in, and a cornhole game was in full swing. Seeing one of his cousins, Daddy sprinted off toward the lake, leaving the ladies behind.
“Ugh, there’s no Wi-Fi here!” whined Claudia. “How am I supposed to post cute pics of me sitting by the lake?”
“I guess you’ll have to help me carry these trays of cookies to the dessert table instead,” said Momma, passing a large tray to Claudia.
Sally watched the two of them walk away, and thought maybe if she stood very still, no one would notice her or her big feet.
“Why aren’t you out having fun?” said a voice behind Sally.
She turned around to see a young woman smiling at her. “Hi! I’m your cousin, Linda,” the woman said. “It’s okay if you don’t remember me. The last time we met, you were still a baby.”
Sally nodded.
Sally couldn’t see how she could possibly be related to Linda. Linda was beautiful and carried herself with confidence, two traits Sally couldn’t dream of ever having.
“I have to ask. What’s with the snow boots in summer?” Linda asked.
“It’s because I have big feet, and I don’t want anyone to see them.”
“Oh, I see,” said Linda nodding. “Say, we’re about to have a three-legged race, and I don’t have a partner yet. Would you be mine?” she asked.
Before Sally could tell her no, Linda took her by the hand and led her past the picnic tables to a grassy area. There were three lanes marked out with spray paint and a bandana at the starting line of each. Two elderly ladies, who looked so similar they could have been twins, stepped up to the first lane and used the bandana to tie their legs together. Linda led Sally over to the middle lane.
“I don’t think the bandana will fit if you keep your boots on,” Linda said.
“But…I can’t…” Sally stammered.
“Here, I’ll take my shoes off too.” Linda kicked off her Converse sneakers and wiggled her toes in the air.
Sally was shocked, Linda’s feet looked just like hers. She looked around to see what kind of reaction people had when seeing Linda’s feet and noticed the two elderly ladies had big feet too. No was laughing or pointing or calling anyone mean names. She took a deep breath and slid off one of her boots, the cool grass felt refreshing on her hot foot. A tall man with a neon shirt walked up holding a whistle. He had big feet too, Sally thought. She took the other boot off.
“Doesn’t that feel better?” asked Linda.
While Linda tied their legs together, Claudia and Momma joined the race in the third lane.
“This looks fun!” Momma said smiling. “For goodness sakes, Claudia, put the phone away!”
Claudia rolled her eyes and put the phone in her pocket while Momma tied the bandana around their legs.
The man in the neon shirt drew the whistle to his lips and blew, signaling the race to begin. Linda held on tightly to Sally and off they went. Sally pushed off the ground as hard and as fast as she could to keep up with the much taller Linda, and to her surprise, was able to keep up. They neared the cone at the end of the lane, rounded it, and started for the finish line. Once over the finish line, a group of onlookers started to cheer.
“We did it, Sally!” said Linda, hugging Sally’s shoulders.
Sally looked and saw that Momma and Claudia had fallen on the ground and were struggling to get back up.
“Those feet seem pretty great to me,” said Linda, untying the bandana.
And for the first time in her life, Sally was proud of her big feet.
Psalms 139:14
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
That’s so sweet!
Where The Footprints Lead
Team A 🐸
[991 words]
Ten years of countless searching, and this was it.
For hundreds of years, my family had embarked on a search—and now, I had the chance to finally end it.
It all started with Great-great-great-great—well, you get the point—Grandfather Jenkins. His story became a legend, told almost every time a Jenkins sat down at a campfire.
Lila clutched her necklace, a silver image of a creature sketched upon it, and gazed out the bus window. The countryside reminded her of Grandfather Jenkin’s infamous story, and the day he found the exact necklace that had been handed down to her.
The bus creaked as the doors opened, “Stop 113,” the driver called.
Lila wiped the July heat off of her forehead and threw her bag over her shoulder. Anticipation tickled against her ribcage as she pulled open the picture of the invitation.
Bigfoot Reunion, July 12.
It was stupid really, barging in on a random family’s reunion, but she owed it to her family’s legacy to investigate. For years they searched all over the world for the answer to the questions that the silver necklace told of.
So three weeks ago she had taken a shaky breath, and bought a one-way ticket to Colorado. And today was the day she hoped to hang the silver necklace on the shelf, perhaps start a second legacy for her future family to continue.
Two streets later, with nerves battling her every step, she reached the park. But finally she reached the park.
A giant sign hung across two pine trees: Bigfoot Reunion 2025. Brown streamers hung from the pavilion, and a game of cornhole was set up next to a large cooler. The smell of hot dogs and hamburgers made her mouth start to water.
But then her eyes caught the attention of the people walking around the park.
“Hey sweetie, are you here for the reunion?”
Lila pulled out the invitation from her pocket and thrust it towards the woman sheepishly.
“Aw we’re so glad to have you, you just make yourself at home okay? Some hotdogs will be ready soon.”
She nodded and tugged on her earlobe.
This was pathetic. Had she really believed that the legendary Bigfoot people would allow themselves to be found so easily?
Lila glanced over her shoulder. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should just head home. She bit her lip.
She turned to the restroom, darting inside a stall, her blood pumping through her ears.
Stupid, stupid. How could I really-
Someone sneezed in the stall over.
“Bless you.”
“Thanks.”
Lila jumped at the response. It was deeper- scratchier. She peered at her shoes, then glanced at the shoes next door. Except, instead of Nikes or Adidas there were two pairs of something shaggy- brown.
Her heart thumped against her chest. This was it. She wasn’t crazy. There was a bigfoot.
She clutched her necklace, tracing the lines with her thumb.
As fast as she could, Lila washed her hands and looked for the perfect place. A hiding spot capable of taking earth-shattering evidence, but someplace people couldn’t see her. After all, she was outnumbered here.
She scanned the party once more. Were all the people here Bigfoot in disguise?
Adrenaline coursed through every inch of her being as she slipped into a leafy bush, avoiding the attention of anyone within the park.
Her hands trembled as she fumbled with her phone. She opened the camera app and propped it against a rock. Just to be safe she set it on video mode, zooming in far enough to see every detail without blurriness.
Perhaps she should call someone? Would her cousins tease her when they found her to be the end of their legacy, or would they respect her a little more for this feat?
The creak of the bathroom door echoed through the woods.
Lila was sure everyone for miles could hear her heart race.
Rustling in the tree above her tried to distract her but she squinted, focusing on the figure as it stepped out of the restroom.
Furry feet check.
Her eyes ran up the figure, looking for any other identifiable traits.
But just as Bigfoot took a step, Lila leaned forward to capture the image, something small and furry jumped from the tree.
If squirrels could scream, this one would.
The pest landed directly on her head, sending Lila’s phone flying. Lila screamed without another thought, and the squirrel latched on to her hair as she shook.
She stood up as fast as she could, shaking and running until she ran into something tall- and furry.
She screamed again, louder this time, as the figure calmly brushed the squirrel from her head.
She watched in horror as the squirrel escaped up a tree, leaving her alone here with a-
Her eyes cautiously looked up. Her heart dropped. A Bigfoot. A real life Bigfoot.
She patted her pockets for her phone. “Y-you’re a-”
The figure busted out in laughter. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, are you okay?”
“-Bigfoot,” was all she could mutter, stepping back slowly.
The Bigfoot laughed harder, “Bigfoot?”
Lila nodded.
The crowd erupted in laughter. The woman came forward, and taking hold of Lila’s hand she shook her head.
“Oh honey, that is just Eliana. She is not a real Bigfoot.”
“She’s not?”
Lila sensed laughter in the woman’s eyes. “No.”
The Bigfoot reached up for her head, and slowly removed the Bigfoot costume. “Sorry to disappoint you, kid.”
Lila’s cheeks burned, and she sheepishly turned around. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“It’s alright.” Eliana leaned down and handed Lila her phone. “The costume is a tradition.”
“So this isn’t a real Bigfoot reunion then?”
“No it is.” A silly grin spread across the women’s faces. “just not the way you thought. We are the Bigfoot family.”
“Our last name is Bigfoot,” the woman laughed.
Lila tugged on her earlobe once more, “I’m so sorry for causing such a commotion.”
Nice story! I like the sudden twist ending
Thank you Izzy!!
This was so creative and fun!! I loved the twist at the end as well <33
Crashing the Sasquatch Social
Scott let his backpack slide off his shoulders, sinking to the ground beside it. He tipped his head back against a tree.
Four days.
It had been four days of trudging, clambering, plodding through these trackless woods. Four wonderful days. He didn’t even know where he was going.
At the beginning, he’d had some vague idea of just getting away for a little bit, going to ground somewhere nice and fishing for a few days to clear his mind. But he’d never felt far away enough from town. From the laughter, from the concerned looks, from the squinting, pencil-scratching series of quacks they’d tried to drag him to.
Never mind that it was late in the season. He was sick of people. People who wouldn’t believe him.
So he kept going.
And going.
And going.
Now he was starting to get hungry. He’d eaten nothing but canned tuna and pressed-fruit bars the last several days, and though he’d done his best to ration, he was running low. Thankfully, the stream he’d been following had clean, freezing spring water in it, but he knew that pretty soon he’d have to stop and set up camp, so he could start foraging and hunting.
Scott watched dully as an ant explored the butt of his rifle, which leaned against the tree beside him. He’d brought enough ammunition to keep himself going for a few months, if he had to. Used wisely, one deer could go a long way. He was a crack shot, too; you got to be that way when you spent half of every year living outdoors and snooping through the woods for Sasquatch.
At the thought of the elusive beasts, Scott chuckled weakly. He’d even brought his camera along on this impromptu ramble. Though, he figured he’d be more concerned with surviving as winter came on than with chasing down phantom figures.
“Well, I suppose here’s as good a place as any,” he muttered to the ant, who lost interest in his rifle and skittered off toward the stream. “This’s a good bank right here. I can stretch my tarp…”
Movement across the stream caught his eye.
It was something big.
Scott froze, squinting into the dim underbrush. There was definitely something out there, and it wasn’t walking on all fours like a bear.
With steady, noiseless movements, he grabbed his rifle and put his eye to the scope.
His heart juddered to a stop.
That shambling gait. Those flashing yellow eyes. Same as the ones he’d glimpsed all those years ago when he was ten years old, lost and cowering inside a hollow log while coyotes howled.
The Sasquatch vanished from view behind a thick wall of ferns. Scott rocketed to his feet, and before he even realized it, sprang over the stream with his bag on his back and his gun in hand. He fumbled for his camera in the side pouch as he dashed into the trees, trying to move quickly but quietly, lest he spook the thing. This was it! He’d finally get a perfect picture that no one could contest.
Man in a gorilla suit? Please! This was the day and age of such wonders as high-res cameras and rapid autofocus. Not even the most talented Photoshopper would be able to replicate the level of shot he’d get if he could just… catch… it!
It moved fast, with an uncanny knowledge of the woods. Scott scrambled after the shaggy shape, wincing at every pine needle that cracked under his boot and silently cursing each unexpected root or divot that forced him to look down and watch his step.
All of a sudden, the matted head vanished from view.
Scott abandoned all caution and raced forward, slinging his rifle over one shoulder so he could have both hands on the camera.
The trees and thick undergrowth gave way to a small dell, with a dirt floor and a honking big red cedar atop a ledge on the far end. Seated at rusty picnic tables beneath the tree were at least thirty Sasquatches. A dirt-coated banner hung from the cedar, with the words Class of 2010 scrawled with bright berry juice on it.
Scott gaped.
The pack of Sasquatches, including the one that had just arrived, stared back.
Scott was just beginning to process what he was seeing when he felt his rifle strap leave his shoulder.
“I’ll take this, thank you,” rumbled a deep, unfamiliar baritone.
Scott whirled, and yelped in shock.
“Hey, this is a nice model,” said the Sasquatch that stood behind him, looking the gun over. “Name’s Ed. I hope you weren’t planning to shoot Kevin with it.”
“I… grrrk… I didn’t… I wasn’t…”
“Good.” The Sasquatch – Ed, apparently – gave him a stern look. “It’d be a real downer for our valedictorian to show up to the party in a body bag.”
Wait, what?
“Party?” Scott squeaked.
“High school reunion.” Ed nodded to the picnic tables. “Can’t you read? It’s been years since I last saw Kevin. Won the Stalking Fair with him, you know. Scared the living daylights out of a logging crew.” He let loose with a howling laugh.
“You mean… a whole tribe of Sasquatch… enough for a high school?” Somewhere beneath his initial terror, Scott suddenly felt a spark of triumph. “I was right,” he whispered, squeezing his camera for sheer joy. “I was –”
WHONK!
Scott’s eyes rolled up into his head and he toppled, faceplanting into the duff.
“About time.” Ed scowled at another Sasquatch who’d snuck up behind Scott, wielding a baseball bat.
“He get any shots?”
Ed grabbed the camera and checked. “Nope.” He grinned. “I’ll go find a slippery rock or something to put him by. Make him think he hit his head. You let the others know I’ll be back in a minute.”
Ed scooped Scott up. The Sasquatches bumped fists, then went their separate ways.
Team A!
Funny story, Kinsey. I love the twist!
Last Harry Reunion
Last Harry didn’t get the invitation by mail. The Bigfoot Reunion invite was more like a bell going off in his mind, like spawning season for the salmon, or the Monarch butterflies to Mexico. It was late spring in Far North Territory. Big snowflakes the size of goose feathers cascaded in slow motion to rest on ice-coated drifts. Trees poked and scratched at the sky like bones clawing out of a grave. Time to head Home… or to The Lab, as the scientists called it.
The hive consciousness Last Harry had relied on since his escape seemed to be getting dimmer year by year. Without a strong connection, he led himself back to Home by memory. From there, he’d head north into steeper terrain, looking for a stand of Jack pines. Climbing higher still, he’d find the opening that led into a tunnel which led to an enormous cavern inside a mountain.
Running across a frozen meadow, Last Harry’s furry feet crunched through knee-deep snow. Stopping suddenly at the edge of a birch forest, he noticed a difference. Although he didn’t see them, he knew the scent. Fresh humans. He’d have to tread carefully, eyes open, ears sharp.
But before long, Last Harry began remembering past reunions. He hoped to see Harry 2057 a great grill cook, or even Harry 2074 a campfire chef. What they say of a clone reunion, is if you’ve met one, you’ve met them all. At one time, that might have been true.
However, the scientists had failed to consistently create a viable female Bigfoot. While Scientists One through Five worked on resolving the issue, Scientist number Six, continued cloning males. The Bigfoots referred to him as Dr Different. He tampered with DNA sequences, resulting in different—not identical—clones. These results were invisible to outsiders where it didn’t matter. It only mattered to the reuniting clones.
For example, Harry 2069 had a cocked eyebrow and a wonderful sense of humor. Harry 2024 was a bit of a party animal with blue eyes. Harry 2031 had a sad smile and was more sedate, while Harry 2032 had lavender eyes and smacked people for staring at them.
Using telepathic hive consciousness was like tapping into every ancestors collective experience. Harry easily survived many summers in the wilderness. But, with fewer Harrys reuniting every year, the hivemind database grew dimmer. In fact, Last Harry hadn’t seen another Bigfoot since last reunion. So maybe, he was looking forward to seeing who was left.
Because the Harry’s were grown in a lab, they’d been chipped. The other reason they were chipped was because every Harry was stronger that all six of the scientists put together. Once a Harry understood that, he fought to be unconfined. Eventually each one broke out. With no way to subdue a Harry, the scientists chose to track them. This was, after all, a black budget operation, or so Harry 2020 had told Last Harry.
Because falling snow erased his footprints, Last Harry traveled without stopping for two days. He carefully swept snow laden tree branches out of his way. So muffled were his movements that he once startled a deer. The air thickened with snowflakes. The human scent thinned, but didn’t disappear. He was getting close, now. His heart tapped out a warning in his chest as he caught a glimpse of the fence surrounding the lab compound. Last Harry sniffed the air and crouched among the sparse undergrowth. With a layer of snow covering his fur he disappeared into his surroundings.
The buildings looked empty. There were no transport vehicles. He stood again and walked along the fence to continue on his way. What he really wanted was to find the cave and take a nap.
Toward the very back, where the science lab once stood was a great crater.
Last Harry heard a snap and resounding crash. He wheeled around to face the noise. Under the weight of the snow, a great branch had broken and fallen through the trees. When he turned back, there stood Dr. Difference.
“Hello Harry. I was hoping you’d come.” Little clouds of breath hung momentarily in the air when he spoke. Dr. Difference wore a white wool cap and snow camo polar gear. His hands hung by his sides encased in white thermal gloves.
“It was you following me?” Harry asked.
“I couldn’t be sure you’d get the message.”
“Where is everybody?” Last Harry asked.
“They’re all at the reunion,” Dr. Difference said, staring at the depression in the earth. “You can see the lab’s been shut down.”
“Shut down?” Harry clung to the fence, gazing through it.
“Well… it was bombed.”
“What happened?”
“A calculated explosion to close the program. The other scientists never accomplished their goal. Without females, the Bigfoot race isn’t self-sustaining. At least, not here.”
“If not here, then where? Tartaria?” Harry scoffed.
Dr. Difference chuckled. “So you’ve talked to Harry 1959.”
“A very long time ago.” Harry looked back through the fence, at Home. “I miss him.”
“He’s still alive. He’s been asking about you.”
Harry turned and stared at the scientist.
“Is he here?”
“No, but…”
“Can you take me to him?”
“If I do, we can’t come back. This is my last trip. Your hive consciousness is faint because they aren’t in this realm anymore. They’ve been transported to another location on Terrainfinita where they’re not hunted and tracked. They have their own kingdom.”
“Females?” Last Harry’s black eyes shone with hope.
“And Bigfoot cubs.”
“I want to see it!”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Let’s go.”
Last Harry clambered up the slope following Dr. Difference to the cave. Deep in the cavern stood a circular stone arch. They stood side by side on an elevated step. One more step and they’d be in the archway. The scientist pulled an electronic device from his coat and handed it to Last Harry.
“The Bigfoot Reunion awaits.”
“This will be the best one ever!”
A Team Herbert
I feel so much for Last Harry! This was cleverly written (with the experiment tied in) and I’m glad that it’s a happy ending with the hope of Last Harry reuniting with his hive once again. Very beautiful story, Juli!
Thank so much, Eunice!
Team A—Herbert 4 The Win!!
No idea where I got this idea, but it was kind of fun to write, hope you like it!
Bigfoot Reunion
“DAD! LET’S GO!” Johnny squealed. “I want to go fishing!”
Lily muttered under her breath and whined, “Dad, do we have to go? It’s gonna be so hot at that campground.”
“Don’t you want to meet your relatives?” Dad asked, surprised at her.
“No,” she moaned.
“I want to go fishing,” Johnny announced again.
“And I want to stay in my air-conditioned bedroom,” Lily countered.
“Come on, it’ll be an adventure!” Dad said, scratching his furry head with his gigantic hand. “We’re meeting your mom there. It’s all about family, you know? She’s bringing your granny in her car.”
“Fiiiiiine,” Lily muttered, stomping down the hall to her room and slamming the door.
“She’s in a mood today,” Johnny proclaimed.
Dad laughed, ruffling his young son’s furry head.
“I don’t get it, really. I’m a Yeti, not a big foot!” Dad said proudly, packing up the picnic basket. Johnny pondered this for a moment, tilting his head.
“Is Lily a yeti?”
“Yes,” Dad smirked.
“And am I a Bigfoot?”
“Yes,” Dad repeated. “That’s why you like forests and she likes mountains. And I’m furry and white and your mom is furry and brown. Of course, you both have the blood of both species.”
“Oh,” Johnny said. “That’s confusing. Is that why Lily hates the summer and acts weird? She’s supposed to be in cold places like a Yeti?”
“Yep,” Dad said with a smirk.
He pulled the giant whisker picnic basket and a pile of fishing gear into their rickety orange van. “LILY! TIME TO GO!”
“COMING!” She groaned from above. “CAN I BRING THE CEILING FAN?”
“NO ELECTRIC AT THE CAMPGROUND,” Dad called back.
“AW, I COULD’VE DEFINITELY GOTTEN IT OFF THE CEILING!” She shouted, sounding dissapointedly as she stomped out of the house and sat down in the passenger side.
“Aw, can’t I sit in the front?” Johnny grumbled.
“And if we hit a tree?” Lily asked, raising her brows and crossing her furry arms.
“Uh, never mind, enjoy!”
“We’re not going to hit a tree,” Dad laughed as they took off down the road. Soon the busy highways turned to gravel roads, twisting into a green forest with dirt paths.
“WE’RE GONNA HIT A TREE!” Lily shouted suddenly, as a joke.
Johnny started screaming. Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not helping, Lily.”
She smirked. “Eh, I was bored.”
He swerved to pretend he might actually hit a tree.
That got her to be quiet.
“Hey look, there’s Granny and Mommy!” Johnny yelled, pointing out the stained car window.
They parked in front of an old log. “Are we lost?” Lily asked, crossing her arms.
“Nope!” Granny called, poking her with her walking stick, leaning on it.
She was a Bigfoot too. A very stubborn, noisy, southern, and rather nosy Bigfoot.
“Girl, what’s your problem with the campground!? Whole family’ll be here before ya can say ‘mozzarella.” She said in her thickly southern accented voice.
“I don’t have a problem with it, it’s just too warm here,” Lily muttered. “I haven’t shed my winter coat yet.”
“Why not?” Granny demanded.
Lily sighed. “Granny. Yeti don’t shed until later in the year, and we don’t shed much. I belong in a much colder climate.”
“Whatever ya gotta tell yourself,” Granny muttered.
“Thanks,” Lily sighed, turning to the others. “Where is everybody? Wait, I’m sorry, you said to say—mozzarella.”
And then they arrived. On cue. “DID SOMEONE SAY…MOZZARELLA?!” A booming voice shouted.
“Hey, bro!” Mom called, hugging her brother. “Kids, this is your Uncle Mike!”
“Hello,” Lily said in the politest voice she could seem to muster.
“HI!” Johnny shouted, fist bumping his Bigfoot uncle.
“And that’s your Aunt Serena,” Dad said, pointing to the woman standing next to Uncle Mike, hand on his arm—she bared her teeth in something like a smile.
“Are you human?” Lily asked.
“Nah, I’m a werewolf, sweetie,” she smirked.
“Woah,” Lily breathed. “Do you actually howl at the moon?”
“Occasionally,” she smiled, flipping her long brown braid, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the shaded trees.
“And those are your second-cousins, Vivian and Victoria,” Mom said, gesturing to two girls with pointy teeth. “Vampires.”
“We don’t bite,” Vivian promised, pale faced grinning.
“We mostly eat bugs!” Victoria chimed in.
“I…don’t know how to react to that,” Lily muttered, overwhelmed. Johnny, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.
“DAD! Your brother-in-law is the Easter Bunny?! WHAT?!” He was grinning ear to ear. “WHO WANTS TO GO FISHING?!”
All the men stood immediately, trudging down the hill towards the lake.
“Wait for me, I love good fish blood!” Victoria squealed, practically dancing down the hill.
Lily turned to Mom and Granny, who were making hot dogs on the little grill.
“Why are humans afraid of these kind of creatures? They all seem pretty nice. A little quirky, but…nice!” Lily pointed out.
“Well, humans like to over-exaggerate a little,” Mom explained.
Granny grinned. “A little? Try a ton. Also, did ya know your uncle’s uncle’s sister-in-law’s husband is the Loch Ness Monster?”
“Woah,” Lily breathed.
“Crazy, huh?” Mom laughed. “What I always wonder is, why did God create all these awesome creatures and not let the humans see us properly?”
“Eh, humans like their mysteries,” Granny laughed, hobbling down the hill.
“Woah, is that MORE Bigfeet?” Lily gasped, pointing at an entire red dump truck full of fluffy brown creatures.
“Did I mention were related to roughly every mythical creature?” Mom beamed.
Lily paled as best as a Yeti can. “That’s of family to meet.”
“Eh, only about half R.S.V.P. yes,” Mom said with a smile as the other bigfeet settled in.
“Great,” Lily sighed, facepalming. “This is going to be a long, humid day.”
Also, I’m super open to constructive criticism and feedback!
I love this story about mythical beings being related to each other and that final conversation about God creating “misunderstood” beings which is really just on tbe perspective of humans. Very fun take on mythical and cryptid creatures! I really enjoyed reading this to the end!
Title: Littlefoot
Team A: Herbert
It’s hard to fill in the steps of someone with such humongous feet.
And I mean, literally.
My dad is the Bigfoot.
He came from a long—very long and ancient—line of cryptid, bipedal beings that resembled furry forest animals. And not the cuddly kind. Native Americans believed Bigfoot to be spirits, wandering between dimensions, warning humans of impending doom. That’s not entirely true. We’re just trying to survive. And lately, it’s gotten harder.
It’s been weeks since our cousin Horse Hunter disappeared without a trace. My dad grew restless. He decided to hold a meeting with his brothers.
“Your Uncle Botan is coming.”
One of the most extraordinary things about Bigfeet is our super sense—a heightened awareness of the environment and all five senses. It’s how we’ve avoided discovery for over thousands of years. With some exceptions—but never because of carelessness.
“Why, if it isn’t Tiny Everett!”
A voice smooth as smoke in our ancient tongue drifted through the trees.
Uncle Botan floated across the red-leafed forest floor with a hushed pat…pat…pat. His long, braided fur swept behind him like a shaman’s cloak. My dad sighed and rubbed his nose with a rough hand.
“You still reek of fish, Botan.”
“What a warm welcome.” Botan grinned with gleaming teeth. “The fish in Japan are exquisite. Even the people eat it raw.”
He leaned forward to sniff, and my dad stepped back.
“Is this young Griffin?” Uncle Botan circled me like smoke from a fire, eyes narrowed in amusement.
“Uncle Botan, it’s me.” I rolled my eyes, heart drumming.
“Your Sas needs work. You sound human,” he said, voice suddenly cold, “You look like one, too, Littlefoot.”
“It’s not my fault I’m the son of someone who’s nearly hairless and the shortest in the family tree!” I bit my tongue too late. Botan’s grin turned sly.
Truth be told, I didn’t mind being different. I used to. I wanted to be like my dad—loud, proud, always hunting. But I was quieter. I liked observing nature. Even the humans.
“Diamir…” my dad called out, waving his arms more dramatically than I’d ever seen him do before.
A figure moved from the forest’s shadow.
“Ugh. You invited him?” Botan groaned and dropped beneath the western hemlock.
Uncle Diamir, a giant Yeti, stepped forward like a glacier breaking from its cliff. His chest was cloaked in icicles of white fur, his scent like first frost.
“Son,” my dad said, “this is your Uncle Diamir.”
I lifted my chin.
“Little one,” Diamir rumbled, voice deep and steady as a mountain. “A spitting image of your father when he was a hairless cub.”
His laugh echoed like distant thunder. Though my dad and I looked alike, we were opposites. Dad puffed his chest to feel taller. I stayed small and observant. I collected books and magazines humans left behind, studying their world. My strength was not in muscle—but in insight.
“Wish I’d known this was a reunion,” Botan muttered, slithering low. “I’d have stayed in seclusion.”
Diamir lifted his cloudy blue eyes. “The wind carries tension. I sense the Hibagon’s fire.” It was hard to tell if he spoke prophecy or proverb.
“We don’t have time for anger,” Dad said, stepping beside me. “I summoned you both because our cousin Horse Hunter in Northern Territories vanished weeks ago. I can no longer sense him.”
“Maybe your age is dulling your senses,” Botan sighed, then closed his eyes. A beat. “You’re right.”
Even Botan’s sharp tongue faltered.
“Do you think he was captured?” Diamir’s voice cut through the stillness.
My dad’s brow furrowed. For once, he looked… vulnerable.
“Dad…”
“Not now, Griffin.”
I bit my lip, then glanced at Diamir. He met my eyes.
“Ev,” Diamir pronounced, “let Littlefoot speak.”
My dad turned to me, slowly, as if truly seeing me.
“Dad, I think I know where to start.” I unshouldered my backpack. “I should’ve told you sooner… but I was afraid.”
I unzipped the pouch and paused, fingers brushing the cold surface of my battered laptop before pulling it free from hiding.
“I joined the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization.”
The mouths of both uncles were left open like caves. “What?”
I closed my eyes briefly, hoping I could get my words out in one breath. “They’re a group of human scientists who look for proof that we exist.”
Botan’s red-dot eyes blazed. “Traitor! You’re the one feeding them information!”
“No—I’ve been watching their reports to protect us!” My voice cracked.
“Then why, son?” my dad asked quietly.
“It was easier pretending to be a lumberjack. I learned to live like them when you left me alone on this side of the mountain.”
“And what can you learn from those violent creatures?” His strength surged again—but it felt hollow.
I held his gaze. “I learned that here, in Skamania County, Washington, there’s a law protecting us. Humans can’t legally hunt or kill us.” I softened my voice. “Not all humans are murderers, Dad…”
“If you want to be like us, you have to think like us.”
“Well, I’m me, Dad. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to save us from extinction. But I can’t do it alone.”
I held out my rough hands.
A hopeful invitation.
OOOH I like the intrigue here. Also this line: “Uncle Diamir, a giant Yeti, stepped forward like a glacier breaking from its cliff.” This is so thought provoking! 🙂
Thank you for your kind and encouraging comments, Juli! I found it very interesting that other countries and cultures have their own form of Bigfoot, so I wanted to incorporate that here 🙂
I Saw Bigfoot Today, Darling, by Sarah Sax (Team Reepicheep)
I saw Bigfoot today, darling. I was in the woods behind your grandpa’s house and going on that trail that leads slowly up the mountain and listening to the wind in the pine trees and thinking what if we could fly, and if so I’d like to fly away on that wind, climb on and ride it like a dragon (that’s something you would think up, darling), and then I saw the footprint, so big, like a giant’s foot or maybe God’s if God had feet (maybe He does, how should I know), and I went a little further, past the rock you said blocked the entrance to the fairy realm because there were always mushrooms growing around it, and that’s a sign of fairies dancing, you said. And there I saw Bigfoot.
And I know what you’re thinking, that Bigfoot isn’t a fairy, he’s a cryptid, and all fairies may be cryptids but not all cryptids are fairies, but there he was, standing by the fairy rock, and he looked nothing like they say he looks, more like a big bulky man and less like Chewbacca, except he wasn’t so bulky, actually pretty skinny, he just had lots of hair and real long arms and legs, so my first thought was ‘bulky’, and he was standing by the fairy rock, just waiting.
And he was close, so close I could have gone a few more steps and touched him, except I didn’t because I’m not that crazy (but you would be, not that you were crazy or anything but you would’ve loved this, you probably would have tried to introduce yourself to it or something, though maybe you wouldn’t have, you might’ve said it looks like it’s waiting for someone, maybe its sibling or girlfriend, and it would be rude to interrupt someone waiting, even if that someone is a Bigfoot).
So I’m back at your grandpa’s house now and thinking about what happened, and I’m trying to think about it the way you would, like maybe Bigfoot is a fairy and was trying to get back into the fairy realm, only it’s not as strong as it looks and needs help lifting the rock but the fairies won’t help because they aren’t very nice (I remember some of those stories you read to me, darling, fairies are mean), and maybe I could’ve helped but I didn’t.
Or maybe Bigfoot is a predator who eats fairies and is trying to get into the fairy realm and that’s why they blocked it with a stone, so he couldn’t get in, so maybe that goes along with the first idea and he’s too weak to lift the stone and it’s a good thing I didn’t help him because either he would have gotten in and eaten the fairies, or he might have decided human meat is just as good as fairy meat, maybe even better, or at least better than nothing.
Or maybe Bigfoot is getting sick of being tracked and is just standing around, waiting for someone to come along and get for-real proof of him being real, but the only person to come along was me who doesn’t care about Bigfoots and who only thought of riding the wind like a dragon because, well, actually I don’t know why I thought of that, and now he’s somewhere in the forest or in a cave or up the mountain feeling depressed and maybe contemplating suicide, kind of like me after you left, and I really hope he doesn’t, commit suicide, I mean.
Or maybe the woods behind your grandpa’s house is a known meeting place for cryptids and he was waiting for the others, maybe his girlfriend was coming after all, or maybe there was a Bigfoot reunion or something, like a big gathering of Bigfoots all around the world (‘cause Yeti and Sasquatch are Bigfoots too, I think you said), and if I went back I might see a whole bunch of furry things drinking cider and doing whatever they do at reunions (maybe they’re just like family reunions and you have to keep Uncle Sasquatch from Great-Aunt Yeti because she keeps preaching about the end of the world and how all Bigfoots must repent their evil ways and return to the Lord before the Great and Awesome Day of His Wrath, but Uncle Sasquatch is an atheist and laughs in her face, but that might be sacrilegious of me to imagine, sorry).
And I don’t know why, but that last train of thought got me thinking of the last reunion I went to, where there were no Bigfoots but there were plenty of Great-Aunts and Uncles and no you, so they paid attention to me instead and there was nowhere for me to go because I can’t be invisible when there’s no one to take attention away from me, and I thought about how you might’ve broken up the party by announcing the discovery of alien tracks on Venus and gotten everyone split on whether a belief in aliens is contrary to Biblical teaching, and then we could’ve gone to the old church by the lake where you would play the organ and I would sing and we would feel ready for that Great and Awesome Day of His Wrath, aliens or not.
I’m wondering if I’m going crazy or if I’m just becoming more like you, because I’ve heard couples rub off on each other, and maybe when you died some of you detached from the spirit that was leaving and got stuck to me, I don’t know, you’re the one who was supposed to know all this stuff. I decided it’s a family reunion, and I hope Bigfoot is having a good time or has someone to make it bearable, maybe a girl who tells crazy stories about humans who worship the goddess Starbucks and drink her blood to keep functioning.
I saw Bigfoot today, darling. I would give anything to have seen you instead.
Hi Sarah, thanks for sharing your story. You took it in a few different directions and it was an interesting take on the prompt, for sure. I found the suicide reference a little jarring. You might want to consider a content warning/trigger warning for something like that in the future. Can’t wait to see what week 5 will bring!
Thank you for the feedback! I’m on the fence about trigger warnings, but I appreciate your comment and critique.
Wow, this is really good! I love how you told a story all about Bigfoot that wasn’t actually about Bigfoot at all–it was about loss and family dynamics. Excellent work! Absolutely loved it!
Thank you! I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this week’s prompt would go, but I’m really pleased with how it turned out.
Team 1/Reepicheep
A Bigfüt Reunion
The Sasquatch was enormous—ruby eyes, snarling maw, a flawless metal mane reflecting the night over a Washington panorama and the stage’s flame-lit braziers. Looming over centerstage, the twenty-foot metallic cryptid looked like it was howling with the thousand fans in bigfoot masks, giant hair, and Chewbacca suits, clamoring for Bigfüt to take the stage.
Ash loved everything about the setup—forty years on the glam-power metal scene earns you whatever epic stage you want, wherever you want, even if it’s a one-night-only reunion in your home state, nestled in Skamania County.
From his vantage point, Ash could see everything. He’d considered buying a ticket, but the lights, the sounds, the crush of people—all of it felt like a mosh pit in his chest. Thankfully, with the concert near his home, he was comfortable enough lurking instead in the cedars he’d played around all his life.
Electrified cheering erupted when roadies emerged to test the instruments. Ash held his tongue, desperate to join the infamous Yeti Yells. He ran a sweaty hand through his big hair and adjusted his dad’s tight-fitting vintage ’85 tour shirt.
He missed his dad. They listened to Bigfüt nonstop. His dad explained the lyrics, told stories of the band’s breakup before Ash was born, and always said Bigfüt saved his life.
But the timeworn bandana tied around Ash’s bicep told a different story:
You saved me, Nick. –Troy.
How had his father “saved” Troy Stone, Bigfüt’s legendary front man? He wouldn’t say. The closest came on his deathbed: “I wish I could see Troy once more and—return his bandana,” his eyes drifting toward Ash, “show him the proof.”
Tonight was the night. Not only would Ash finally see Bigfüt live, he’d fulfill his dad’s wish and return that bandana.
But how in the world would he brave the crowd?
A whoosh of wind carried the evening’s loudest applause and Yeti Yells through Ash’s fringe, yanking him from his thoughts—Troy Stone and Bigfüt had emerged.
“Hello, Washington!” Troy cried.
Their first riffs sliced through the air. For nearly two hours, Ash forgot his fear, caught in the paranormal claws of rock history’s finest. Bigfüt played flawlessly—Troy’s towering vocals, the drums, the licks—thrashing the Washington landscape with melodic aftershocks.
Before Ash knew it, the final notes faded, and Troy belted the last cry of Bigfüt’s legacy into the night. The band clasped hands and bowed to raucous cheers.
A boulder plummeted in Ash’s stomach.
It was over. His chance—gone.
He had failed his father.
He growled at himself. What on earth made him think he could get close enough to Troy Stone?
Bigfüt exited. While the crowd cheered, Ash felt empty. Limbs heavy, he turned and began his descent.
But the crowd stirred. Yeti Yells surged. The stage lights and fires remained.
Troy Stone and Bigfüt walked back out.
The encore.
“Want one more?” Troy called. Ash’s heart thumped in time with the jumping fans.
One more chance.
“We’ve saved our biggest for last,” Troy said. “Since we won’t play it again, it’s time I share the truth behind it.
I used to live out here. Beyond those fences, forty-one years ago, I almost died. Our first contract fell through, we had in-fighting, and drugs numbed everything. I took a walk by the falls. I planned to jump.”
Ash stopped breathing.
“Without really thinking, I sang some improvised lyrics, dark stuff, whatever was going on in my head. I stepped to the edge—and jumped. But I slipped. A bandana I wore on my arm snagged on a root. Somehow, I didn’t fall.
A hand reached down and pulled me up. It was . . . Nick. He said he was hunting and heard me singing. Told me he’d been thinking the same dark things. We understood each other. Nick saved my life.”
The crowd roared.
“He even helped rename the band!” A thousand Yeti Yells shook the Evergreen State. “Taking that walk to die gave me a reason to live. So, Nick, wherever you are—this song’s for you. This is Nick of Time.”
As the final song kicked off, Ash untied the bandana and stared at the faded words.
Now he understood.
A sudden gust of wind sent the bandana flying.
Ash’s stomach dropped as he watched it soar over the fence.
And over the crowd.
But this time, he didn’t care.
Ash vaulted the fence and gave chase.
“Hey!” a guard shouted, walkie-talkie crackling to alert the rest of security.
Ash slipped into the back of the standing crowd, surrounded by big-haired bigfoots.
“Killer suit, dude!” a fan yelled.
Ash weaved forward, eyes locked on the floating bandana. Security pressed in. The bandana hovered fifteen rows from the stage.
Suddenly, it dropped.
By instinct, Ash leapt, caught it—and landed in a crowd-surfing zone. The hands surged him toward the stage.
He gripped the bandana tighter as Troy came spinning into view. Disoriented, Ash found himself onstage just as the song ended, pyrotechnics blazing.
Bigfüt huddled together for a final bow.
Security gathered in the wings.
It was now or never.
He rushed Troy, holding out the bandana. Emotions coursing, all he could choke out was, “You. Saved. Him. I’m. Proof.”
Surprised, Troy smiled—then paused, gaping at the bandana.
He took it as guards grabbed Ash, throwing him offstage and out through a gate into the woods.
*
Troy stared at the fabric in his hands. Forty years. Forty years since he’d given this bandana to Grannik—the bigfoot who saved him. He unfolded it.
Despite the faded ink and the crowd’s roar, he remembered exactly what he’d written.
And that, after their cliffside meeting, Nick said he wanted to change, too.
Maybe have a child.
Troy turned to where the kid had been thrown out. Now that he really looked, the figure fading into the trees—the overlarge shoulders under the vintage shirt, the loping arms he’d assumed were costume pieces—looked a lot like Nick.
The Bigfoots’ Tea Party
Team A
The year was 1958 when the Bigfoots had to go into hiding. Their legend was getting popular, and the humans now wanted to hunt them. Now, 1000 years later, they came out of hiding.
Every year before 1958, the Bigfoots hosted a reunion tea party filled with tea, cakes, and the laughter and familial warmth as they recounted their lives. Now, after so long, it has returned again.
Ermelinda noticed a pink envelope in the mailbox.
“Hm, that’s weird,” She said. “We haven’t had something like this ever!” She carefully opened the envelope. In it was a white card laced with gold and purple butterflies scattered about. Reading the card, it said: “Dear Bigfoot, we are pleased to announce the first Bigfoot Tea Party since The Great Hiding 1000 years ago. It is next Saturday at noon. We will have a wonderful sermon from Reverend Saskalo followed by many lovely delicatessens and tea brought forward by our Bigfoot community! We invite every Bigfoot to come, free of charge! All we ask is that you come in love and celebration!
As you know, every Bigfoot Tea Party comes with a dress up theme. As this party is the first party in a while, we’ve decided the theme will be Old Style. Dress up in all the outfits of old times, and we hope to see you there!
- Sincerly, the Bigfoot Tea Party Comitte”
Ermelinda looked at the card, mesmerized yet confused. She rushed inside her cavern home to ask her Nana about the card. Her parents probably didn’t know anything about this, they’ve never received anything like this before.
When she got inside and to her Nana, she asked her excitedly. “Nana! Nana! What is this? This looks fun!”
“Lemme see that girl,” Nana replied. When she read through all of it, she gave a hearty laugh, so loud it reverberated around the small space. “O- ho I haven’t seen this since the way-back-whens!” She laughed.
“Nana! What is it?”
“Did we read the same card girl? Why, if this isn’t the Bigfoot Tea Party! Every year, all the Bigfoot’s in our forest came together to have tea and pastries and talk about our lives together after a special service from our Reverend Pastor! We haven’t had it since the Great Hiding in 1958…”
Ermelinda stood there as she spoke, mesmerized at the idea of a tea party.
“Can we go, Nana? Can we go?” She asked.
Nana chuckled and nodded: “Yes, we’ll go! But first, you gotta get in old style. And the first thing about old style, is that we always dress for church, in Sunday best!
Nana brought Ermelinda into her room and took out a big brown chest at the bottom of her closet. She took out a red plaid dress with a white, round and laced collar and put it on her.
“My mama used to put this on me for church back in the day,” she noted. “It’ll look prettier on you now.”. She then got some lace socks and bright red pumps and put in on her as well.
She then put on a black glittery dress with a sheer beige cardigan on herself, equally as glittery. “This was what my mama got on herself at every church party! I’ve been wanting to wear this since I was a youngin’!“ she exclaimed to herself as she put on her black heels. Finally, she sprayed Ermelinda with a strawberry scented perfume, and an elegant, sharp, natural scent on herself.
Nana picked up a small black purse and a little black Bible for herself and a little pink purse and a little pink bible for her granddaughter. Before going out, she gave her a stern talk.
“Now, this is my little kid’s Bible. It’s the Bible I had when I was a little girl. It’s an old Bible, but it contains the most important words you’ll have to read in your life, The Word of God. Treat it gently, with care girl, as I know you will.”
Ermelinda looked down at the Bible. She didn’t understand what her Nana meant by The Word of God, or why it was so important. But she knew it was important to her Nana, and she always listened to her Nana when it was important, so she agreed. “Ok Nana!” She said, and they took the car to Saskalo’s church.
…
In no short time they reached the church, women were lined against the white wood walls of the church chatting with fluffy hair and red lips, skirts exaggerated in clear day as they waited for the oak doors to open. When they saw Ermelinda and Nana walk up the ramp, they yelled and waved for them the come over. One of the ladies then went to embrace Nana, arms widened to their fullest extent. “Esther, Hi! We haven’t seen you in so long! We missed you!” She wept to Nana.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time as well, Mary! How’s everything been?” She replied.
“It’s going great! My son Bartholomew got married a while back, and now they have a baby boy, Matthew, three years old now. How about you?”
“Ah, so you’re a grandmother now, huh? Well I became a Nana too a while back. I actually have my granddaughter here now, her name’s Ermelinda.”
Mary crouched down to see Ermelinda tugging on her Nana’s skirt. “Hey Ermelinda,” she said with a honeyed voice. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She said shyly
“How old are you girl?” She asked.
“I’m five.” She replied, holding five fingers up.
Mary then looked to her Nana and stood up, saying, “She’s grown so big, Esther! You got a good gene in you!”
“Haha, yeah! That’s the Spirit of The Lord going through this family!” She replied.
“Haha, that’s blessed, girl! We may have been persecuted, but we sure ain’t weak!”
“The doors are open.” A voice announced, and everyone gathered inside the church.
Wow, this was intriguing, great job! Do you have any thoughts on continuing it?