A California Ghost Story
S. E. Schlosser
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I got up at the crack of dawn and drove to Larry's place to pick him up. We were going hiking along our favorite trail in the back of beyond. It was a sunny day, but not too hot; a perfect day for hiking. Larry and I walked along the rugged path leading into the woods, chatting off and on as the mood struck us.
The path narrowed a bit as we neared the creek. I surged out in front, listening with enjoyment to the sound of the water flowing in the creek and the chirping of the birds overhead. A strange, rotten smell drifted through the air. I wrinkled my nose as I rounded the bend and then stopped dead in my tracks. Standing beside the water of the creek was a huge, ape-like figure with a hairy body, long arms, and a flat brown face. Its eyes were round and dark, its ears were small and its nose was flat.
I gasped aloud. Then Larry cannoned into me from behind, nearly knocking me over. The creature fled into the woods.
"Hey, watch it!" Larry said. "Why'd you stop like that?"
"A Sa..Sasquatch," I gasped.
"What?" Larry asked.
"I just saw a Sasquatch," I said as soon as I regained my breath.
Larry was skeptical about my sighting - to say the least -- so I walked over to the place where the Sasquatch had been standing and pointed at the ground. A set of sixteen inch foot prints led off towards the trees. The strides were a good four-foot in length, and the footprints were deep enough to be those of a creature weighing several hundred pounds.
Larry crouched beside the footprints, studying them intently. I kept my eye on the woods where the Sasquatch had disappeared. Sometimes they lingered in an area, watching humans with as much interest as we watched them. Then he jumped up and followed the footprints into the woods. I stared after him in amazement. Only an utter fool would follow such a large creature right into his home territory. I trailed after him slowly, ready to run if there was any sign of trouble. As I did, I caught another whiff of rotten garbage.
"The ground is too hard here for any clear prints," Larry called back to me. "It looks like it went into these bushes." He parted the bushes and came face to face with the Sasquatch.
Larry gave a strangled yell, which was echoed by an equally startled howl of surprise from the Sasquatch. Larry took off like a rocket, heading back towards the car. The Sasquatch ran away in the opposite direction.
I stood stock still, staring bemusedly first at the fleeing Sasquatch, and then at my fleeing friend. At his present rate of speed, I estimated that Larry would make it back to the car in under an hour. I looked again at the Sasquatch. It leapt over the creek in a single bound and disappeared into the trees. The smell of rotten garbage faded away.
I shrugged my shoulders philosophically and started back down the trail towards the car, pondering my very first Sasquatch sighting. As I neared the car, I saw Larry sitting in front, drinking his way steadily through a six-pack. I grinned to myself. The next time I told Larry that I had seen a Sasquatch, he wouldn't be so skeptical. Then again, knowing Larry, I was not so sure. I chuckled at the memory of Larry and the Sasquatch fleeing from one another and got into the car to drive my shaken friend home.
A non-believer changes his mind about the existance of the Sasquatch after he has a close encounter with "Big Foot" in Spooky California by S.E. Schlosser.