Tuesday, November 15, 2011

                         #3 Bigfoot Wakes

The very many birds on the ground and in the tall pine trees rivaled the fast flowing creek for merry summer sounds. Little Brave busied himself with turning over rocks in the cold splashing water. He searched for crawdads.

     For the past while, an unfamiliar noise came from a downed tree several feet away. “No doubt an animal, but what animal?” the young boy asked himself.

     Little Brave inched his way across the creek to the other side. The noise had, of course, grown faint as he neared the opposite bank. He squinted hard his dark brown eyes at the log from where the noise had come.

     A strong wind gusted. A limb high up in a near tree cracked, broke off, and tumbled to the ground, splashing in the creek just three feet from where Little Brave stood.

     He now could see a shadow move at the log. The wind quieted. The near birds chattered not. A far off woodpecker kept to his work, unconcerned. A lone buzzard circled overhead.

     Little Brave slipped on a wobbly rock. He threw his arms out to balance himself. The pictures his eyes registered whirled crazily. When he found again with his eyes the log and moving shadow where the huffing and grunting had been, nothing looked as it had just a few seconds ago. The scene was so altered Little Brave wasn’t even sure if it was the same downed tree he was looking at.

     But then, the log seemed to move. That could not be; it must be the animal, whatever animal it was.

     Frightened now, Little Brave backed up slowly. The shadow animal loomed now. Its black fur glistened in the dazzling sun, now that it stood out in a clearing and out of the forest darkness.

     The big animal snuffled and blew out air in a great noise. He gave the impression of just waking from sleep.

     Little Brave, so shaken at what he was seeing, slipped again on the wobbly rock and fell backwards hard onto his rump.

     The animal swung its massive spiky-furred head around searching for where the noise had come. It took one step forward. Little Brave sprang to his feet and scrambled under a near blackberry thicket. He clawed his way through to the other side.

     The hairy man (bigfoot) seemed to yawn. Next, he kneeled, doing this by falling loudly onto his knees with long grunts, onto the gravel at water’s edge. Then he scooped, seemingly with great satisfaction, the water to his open mouth from the icy creek.

     He paid no mind to Little Brave now peeking over the top of the blackberry thicket at him.

                              The End

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