Mattsquatch Presents “Let’s talk about giants, the history, the evidence and the possibility of them still waking the earth today.”
Sasquatch Chronicles Blog
3 Responses to “The Truth About Giants”
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Wolf
The sun had disappeared behind the mountain by the time the young Sasquatch finally found a place that was safe to cross the raging river. He was now deep into the mountain’s maze of ravines and gorges. For miles he had been climbing through mostly giant boulders with only a few scattered trees struggling for existence on the barren rocks. The sun was beating unbearably hot on his head despite the coolness from the elevation.
Finally he had found a spot where a great tree had fallen across the gorge, the water raging deep below. Gripping the massive roots he wrenched at them, testing for movement. He couldn’t budge them, the branches were stuck firmly amongst the boulders. Quickly, he scrambled up onto the trunk and hurried across into the safety of the forest on the other side.
The coolness of the the heavily wooded forest welcomed him into its embrace and for a time he forgot all about the danger of the Mossabe… whatever that was.
He desperately wanted to lay down and sleep but he kept moving, up over the next ridge, then down into the valley beyond. Here he began following a smaller, slightly less aggressive river that headed generally north upstream, towards the heart of the mountain, but also in the direction of the berry feast. He knew he would have to cross to the other side of the mountain at one stage, but for now he was content to follow the winding water giggling through the rocks. Here, there was more cover from the raging sun and he could not help but relax a little in the coolness of the trees and running water. The days and nights of constant travel clawed at his bones which suddenly felt heavy as trees.
Stumbling along, almost asleep on his feet, he dimly felt the coolness in the air increase at the coming night. It only made him feel even more drowsy. He needed to hunt, stop and gather some mushrooms, or dig up the root bulbs of some ferns, get some food, any food, but he continued on, the ghosts of his parents leading him on, ever on.
The heat of the day had added to his headache and his dizziness. He had been traveling non-stop for many days and nights now, eating very little on the way. His blurred vision could barely focus on the ground before his feet. Several times he tripped and fell, the pain of bruised toes distant as he again and again forced himself to rise and follow the fleeting ghosts of his parents. They were now leaping and dancing in front of him through the huge old trees. Their energetic prancing about mocking his own desperate weariness.
In his exhaustion he did not even notice the massive prints he stumbled into, their depth into the soft pines making him trip and fall once again. For a long time he lay there, the cool earth beneath his skin, tempting him to sleep. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but they could not focus on anything. His fingers idly traced the edge of a deep impression in the earth near his face.
Seemingly from a great distance, a memory began to flutter inside his tired brain. There was something his fingers were feeling. Dimly, an image flashed into his mind from when he was very young and he would squat and trace the outline of his father’s footprint left in soft earth, counting the toes as he traced. These felt the same, but different… bigger… much bigger. Slowly, his tired brain counted the toes, one… two… three… four…
A thought began to seep through the tired fog in his head… there was a toe missing.
Then in a rush the memory came to him! … His father, more scared than the young Sasquatch had ever seen him, standing and staring down at a deep, giant print in the earth with four toes. His father’s worried eyes, his lips moving, forming a sound… MOSSAHBEE….
The fear flooded into him all at once, giving his tired limbs a semblance of renewed life. Staggering to his feet, the young Sasquatch only fell down again, his head swimming and his temples pounding. On his knees and in a panic, his scent glands belching fear, he looked around, trying to force his eyes to focus. The giant trees leapt and swam around him. Sparks hitting his eyes from their dancing feet.
Then he heard a growl. It was deep, deeper than the oldest river. He could feel the boulders of the mountains vibrate in time with the marrow in his bones and he looked up to see two large tree trunks right in front of his nose. They weren’t there before? And they were hairy! His eyes followed them upwards.
Towering over him stood a monstrous version of his father. Half again as large, it blocked out the stars. As his eyes began to finally focus he could see two deer, looking ridiculously small, hanging in one great fist. Craning his neck still higher, he made out a massive chest, wider than his father and mother combined. Above that was a head like a great boulder, covered with straggly hair, with an enormous jaw and a wide mouth that displayed two large, tusk-like teeth! They jutted from its lower jaw in a ferocious grimace. Above a broad, flattened nose deep set eyes glowed in the thin moonlight like the coals from a human’s fire. There was an ancient anger buried deep within them that sent a chill down the young Sasquatch’s spine.
Across its shoulders It carried a massive tree trunk with one enormous hand gripping it on the thinnest end.
It began to growl again and the young Sasquatch felt the world fade beneath him as darkness rushed in to swallow him whole.
Eric T
Well written. I was there in the forest feeling what the young squatch was feeling.
I would like to read more by this author. Who wrote this?
Eric T
Well written. I was there in the forest feeling what the young squatch was feeling.
I would like to read more by this author. Who wrote this?
Who is Wolf?