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!
Close Encounters of the Bigfoot Kind – Team A
I groaned as Dad announced our family would spend the weekend at Lake Tikimongu for the eleventh annual Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Reunion. The news meant hours crammed in a hot station wagon with my quirky family, followed by a convention filled with certifiable loons. There was no way I was going willingly. “Can’t we just do something normal for vacation, like go to Disneyland?”
Dad curled his bushy unibrow in genuine surprise. “But Robbie, you always loved camping.”
“Sure, but hanging out in the woods with a bunch of weirdos isn’t my idea of fun.”
“Weirdos? What’s weird about going to a Bigfoot convention?” Dad flapped his arms to the side, revealing his “I’m with stupid” T-shirt with the arrow that pointed at Mom.
Mom huffed and put her hands on her hips. The rollers in her blue hair jiggled with her movements. “He’s going through a phase, Walt. Boys his age never want to spend time with their parents.”
“I wish he’d snap out of it,” Dad said. “This is gonna be our family’s best trip since Loch Ness.”
I frowned, skeptical I’d have fun watching a bunch of middle-aged oddballs dress up in monkey costumes and parade around the forest. Some families were into sports, others music. My family was into the paranormal. Every holiday, long weekend, and birthday was spent visiting haunted houses or urban legends. None of it was real, of course, and everyone at school knew we were a bunch of fruitcakes. “Why do I have to go?”
“Well, we can’t leave you at home,” Dad said. “Cheer up, you might enjoy it.”
My shoulders slumped, and I plodded from the den to my bedroom. At age twelve, I was still too young to stay home alone. My weekend was ruined—no cartoons, baseball, or professional wrestling. I’d be stuck with Mom and Dad playing baby sasquatch. I plopped on my bed and wished for a meteor to destroy the Earth.
There was a knock on my bedroom window. I raised the glass and stared out at my best friend, Chainsaw Wilson. His real name was Eustance, which is why he insisted we call him Chainsaw.
“Yo, Robbie, why you look so down?” Chainsaw asked.
“My parents again. They’re dragging me to some stupid Bigfoot convention.”
“Yikes. I was going to invite you to stay over on Friday, but I guess that’s out.”
“I wish they’d let me stay home for once.”
Chainsaw pursed his lips, a thoughtful expression on his face like the hamster running the wheel inside his brain was working overtime. “What if we gave them a reason to stay home?”
“I don’t know what would convince them. They live for all this goofy stuff.”
“Then we give them what they want a little closer to home.” A devilish grin spread across his face. “I’ve got an idea.”
***
An hour later, we decided to put Chainsaw’s plan into action. As soon as the sun went down, I sauntered back to the den. Dad was on the couch watching a Flat Earth documentary, and Mom was on the floor playing with Fluffy, our pet iguana. I slumped into the armchair and pretended to play with my cellphone, but the camera was ready.
“Feeling better, Robbie?” Mom asked.
“Meh,” I said, trying not to sound too suspicious.
“It’s okay, snookums. You just have preteen angst. It will get better when you get into high school.”
As my mother smothered me with cheesy words of encouragement, I glanced at the den window and saw a pale gray face with bulging bug eyes. I tried to act surprised and pointed. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” my parents said at the same time, turning to see Chainsaw in an alien Halloween mask. Dad yelped and rocked on the couch. Mom screamed and dropped poor Fluffy, who hissed and scurried across the floor. I hit record on the cellphone camera and captured a few seconds of the fake close encounter until Chainsaw ducked and disappeared into the night.
“It’s … It’s an alien!” Dad shouted, stumbling to his feet and almost tripping over his TV dinner stand.
“One of the grays,” Mom said. “It must be a scout. They could attack the house!”
As my parents hyperventilated, I uploaded the video to ViralTube. Then I joined in the hysteria, doing my best to look shocked. “What are we going to do?”
“We need to call for backup,” Dad said, pointing to Mom. “Vicky, get on the ham radio. I’ll call this in to Coast to Coast. We need to guard the fort!”
The next few hours were a blur of activity. My parents telephoned everyone they could think of, and my video got over one million views before I muted notifications. I slept well that night, certain that Mom and Dad would be too excited about the alien to leave the house for the Bigfoot reunion. When I got up the next day for school, the house was surrounded by strangers holding signs that read, “we are not alone,” and “the truth is out there.” Every parking spot on the block was taken, and some merchants were hawking alien-faced T-shirts in our driveway.
“Dad, what’s going on?” I asked my father, who was sitting red-eyed at the kitchen table.
“Word got out about our sighting. We’re going to have company for a while, it seems.”
“Oh,” I sighed as I stepped out the door to go to school. A group of alien enthusiasts pointed at me and yelled questions. I ignored them and rode my bike to the corner, where Chainsaw was waiting on his bike.
“Well,” he said. “Looks like we got your parents to stay home.”
I eyed the gaggle of people treading through our flower garden. “Somehow, I think I’d have been better off going to the Bigfoot reunion.”
