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!
Bigfoot on the Mountains
Team 1
Roger was the head curator at the Seahaven Cryptozoology Museum and the head researcher. Roger was also the owner, office staff, janitorial crew, and the head of advertising. He was taking a week’s vacation to explore a new Bigfoot sighting in the Adirondacks. He had already been there two years ago for the annual Bigfoot Fest held in Whitehall, NY, which had a marvelous Bigfoot calling contest and the best deep-fried Oreos in the country, but no Bigfoot. His friend Rubert emailed him last month with new Bigfoot photos and the GPS coordinates where he took them.
Roger loaded up his old Jeep with camping supplies and camera gear, then drove into the Adirondacks. He stopped in Keene to fill up on gas, food, and firewood. While at the country store, he purchased a map of the area in case he got lost without service. While there, he asked a man in a fishing hat if he had seen anything unusual up in the mountains.
“What do you mean by ‘unusual’, like campers or strange lights? We had the aurora borealis here a few months ago and the eclipse last year, didn’t we, Jeff?” the fisherman replied.
“Not like that. Strange things. Apes on the loose or big hairy men?” he asked sheepishly, already sure of his answer.
The fisherman and the attendant let out a long, loud laugh. “You want Whitehall son, or maybe Vermont. We don’t have any Bigfoots up here. Maybe a unicorn though over in Tupper Lake.”
They both laughed at his joke, and Roger thanked them and left.
He was used to people laughing at him. Friends, family, investors, and tourists. But a true scientist didn’t give up. He would persevere. He had learned to brush off the naysayers and doubters and continue in his quest. He had heard it all before and just let the jokes roll off him like water off a duck’s back. He got back into his Jeep and continued on his way. The roads turned to paths, and there were mere suggestions of throughfares, but his Jeep could handle it.
Finally close to sunset he reached the coordinates Rupert had given him. He set up camp and made sure to secure his bear canister high in a tree. Then he set up his cameras and screens before crawling into his tent and settling into the noises of the night. He snuggled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes hoping for sleep or beep that would indicate something on the camera. He had just drifted off and was dreaming of finding the chupacabra when the monitors went off.
Roger shot up and reached for the screen, there in green and black was a large hairy something moving. Roger watched as it moved across the screen and then out of frame. He fought back a yelp of surprise and joy and rewound and replayed the footage several times. On the fifth watch, the monitor beeped again. He switched it to play, and there it was again, the large hairy animal. He zoomed in, This wasn’t the same creature; this one was smaller and rounder. He watched as this one also crossed out of frame. He reached into his pack and found his night vision goggle and quietly unzipped his tent. Pressing the googles to his glasses, he turned his gaze to where the first two creatures had entered and saw a third, much smaller Bigfoot. He watched it skip after the larger two and into the woods on his left. He threw on his boots and followed the creatures.
He thrashed about in the woods, stumbling over roots and bumping into trees. If they heard him, they didn’t stop their trek to wherever they were going. He followed them for over a mile until they reached a clearing. There were at least a dozen Bigfoots in the field with large boulders and fallen logs set out for tables. There were lots of dishes on the tables with fruits, vegetables, and what looked a lot like Roger’s bear canister.
He watched as they hugged each other and grunted greetings to one another. He reached for his camera, but grasped a balled-up pair of socks. He stood on the edge of he clearing watching them gather around the tables before they started to sing. It was the strangest, most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He watched and noticed that each of the Bigfoots had the same coloring and the same leaf-green eyes. They each had a strange marking above their eyes. He stood mesmerized at their meal and their familiarity with each other.
As he stood, more and more of the Bigfoots arrived. Each was greeted by a hug and grunt. They were having some sort of gathering, like a family reunion. It was incredible. Roger wanted to rush back to his tent to retrieve his camera, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the scene before him. He had spent his life looking for these amazing animals, and here they were sitting down as a family having a meal and singing. Dozens of them, they could have been a family at a wedding or a holiday dinner, so much like his own.
He didn’t know how long he stood there watching them, clouds had come and gone over the moon, until he heard birds start to chirp the coming sunrise. The family began to break apart, each going their way in ones and twos. There were a few small family groups of Bigfoots and their children. Before dawn, the clearing was empty, and Roger was cold. He went into the field gathering some hairs and measuring the footprints with his own. He made his way towards where he thought his camp might be.
Back at his tent, he gathered the camera gear to return to the clearing. He spent two days trying to find it. In the end, he went home with some hair, grainy footage, and an amazing tale.
