Story By: Bill Turner
He was so engrossed in watching and listening to the man and the woman that he didn’t notice the branch that he was leaning on. He shifted his weight slightly, and the branch snapped with a loud crack. He gasped and ducked, hoping that they didn’t hear him.
But they did. He heard them stop talking and look at each other. He heard them say “What was that?” and “Let’s check it out”. He heard them get up and walk towards the door. He panicked and ran, hoping to get away before they saw him.
But he was too late. He heard the door open and the light spill out. He heard them step outside and shout “Hey, who’s there?” and “Show yourself”. He felt their eyes on him, and he froze. He turned and faced them, hoping to look harmless and friendly.
But he didn’t. He saw them scream and recoil. He saw them grab each other and back away. He saw them reach for their phones and flashlights. He saw them look at him with fear and disgust. He felt their rejection and hatred, and he cried. He lowered his head and whimpered, hoping to apologize and explain.
But he couldn’t. He knew they couldn’t hear him or understand him. He knew they wouldn’t listen to him or forgive him. He knew they would call the authorities or the media. He knew they would capture him or kill him. He knew he was a bigfoot, and he was doomed.
He ran as fast as he could, dodging the trees and bushes. He heard them chase after him, shouting and cursing. He heard them snap pictures and record videos, hoping to capture his image. He felt their hostility and greed, and he feared.
He used his skills and instincts, honed by years of living in the forest. He knew how to blend in with the shadows and the foliage. He knew how to move silently and swiftly. He knew how to avoid detection and escape pursuit. He was a bigfoot, and he was smart.
He managed to lose them, and he found a safe spot to hide. He crouched behind a large rock, and he waited. He hoped they would give up and go back to their house. He hoped they would delete their pictures and videos and forget about him. He hoped they would leave him alone and let him live.
But they didn’t. He saw them search for him, using their phones and flashlights. He saw them trying to call for help by using their cellphones. He felt their anger and malice, and he despaired.
He realized he had made a mistake, and he regretted. He wished he had never followed the noise, never seen the house, never peeked inside the window. He wished he had never been curious, never been lonely, never been hopeful. He wished he had never met them, never faced them, never cried for them. He wished he was a bigfoot, and he was free.
He heard them yell at him, and he felt the fear and the hate. He was a bigfoot, and he was hunted.
He used his strength and agility, developed by years of surviving in the forest. He knew how to climb the trees and jump the rocks. He knew how to swim the rivers and dig the tunnels. He knew how to fight back and defend himself. He was a bigfoot, and he was brave.
He sprinted towards the mountains, and he hoped. He hoped he could find his clan, or another bigfoot. He hoped he could find a new home, or a safe place. He hoped he could find peace, or happiness. He was a bigfoot, and he was hopeful.
But they didn’t give up. They followed him, determined and relentless. They tracked him, using their phones and flashlights. They cornered him, using their guns and ropes. They wanted him, dead or alive. They were humans, and they were ruthless.
He fought for his life, resisting the ropes. He bit them, and he felt the flesh and the bone. He roared at them, and he felt the anger and the sorrow. He was a bigfoot, and he was desperate.
He used his cunning and intelligence, learned by years of observing the humans. He knew how to trick them and distract them. He knew how to break their devices and sabotage their vehicles. He knew how to escape their clutches and evade their sights. He was a bigfoot, and he was smart.
He managed to free himself, and he found a way to survive. He hid in the caves, and he waited. He waited for them to lose interest and leave him alone. He waited for them to forget him and move on. He waited for them to be human, and he was patient.
He saved them, and he felt a relief. He felt their weight and their warmth. He felt their pulse and their breath. He was a bigfoot, and he was alive.
He carried them, and he felt a struggle. He felt the water and the wind. He felt the rocks and the thorns. He was a bigfoot, and he was strong.
He reached the shore, and he felt a worry. He felt their wounds and their cold. He felt their coughs and their shivers. He was a bigfoot, and he was concerned.
He checked them, and he felt a hope. He felt their eyes and their smiles. He felt their hands and their hugs. He was a bigfoot, and he was appreciated.
He decided to help them, and he found a way to do it. He carried them back to the cabin, and he risked. He risked being seen and being caught. He risked being hated and being hurt. He risked being rejected and being alone. He was a bigfoot, and he was generous.
He reached the cabin, and he felt a surprise. He felt their words and their gestures. He felt their invitations and their offers. He was a bigfoot, and he was welcomed.
He entered the cabin, and he felt a curiosity. He felt their warmth and their comfort. He felt their belongings and their memories. He was a bigfoot, and he was fascinated.
He looked around, and he felt a wonder. He saw their pictures and their books. He saw their clothes and their tools. He saw their phones and their flashlights. He was a bigfoot, and he was amazed.
He noticed them, and he felt a nervousness. He felt their stares and their whispers. He felt their questions and their doubts. He was a bigfoot, and he was anxious.
He tried to communicate, and he felt a frustration. He used his gestures and his sounds. He used his expressions and his emotions. He used his actions and his intentions. He was a bigfoot, and he was misunderstood.
They tried to understand, and they felt a respect. They felt his kindness and his courage. They felt his intelligence and his nobility. They felt his pain and his loneliness. They were humans, and they were impressed.
They decided to thank him, and they found a way to do it. They handed over all the cell phones with the pictures and videos on them that they had taken. They risked losing their evidence and their fame. They risked losing their credibility and their reputation. They risked losing their curiosity and their adventure. They were humans, and they were grateful.
He received them, and he was amazed at this gesture. He felt their trust and their generosity. He felt their sincerity and their friendship. He felt their apology and their acceptance. He was a bigfoot, and he was touched.
He sat on the couch, and he felt a comfort. He felt their cushions and their blankets. He felt their warmth and their hospitality. He was a bigfoot, and he was relaxed.
He watched them, and he felt a curiosity. He saw them move and act. He saw them cook and eat. He saw them smile and talk. He was a bigfoot, and he was interested.
He smelled them, and he felt a hunger. He smelled their food and their drink. He smelled their fruits and their vegetables. He smelled their bread and their cheese. He was a bigfoot, and he was famished.
They noticed him, and they felt a sympathy. They felt his gaze and his drool. They felt his stomach and his ribs. They felt his need and his desire. They were humans, and they were compassionate.
They decided to feed him, and they found a way to do it. They found some food, fruits and vegetables from the kitchen and handed them to the hungry bigfoot.
He accepted them, and he felt a delight. He felt their taste and their freshness. He felt their juice and their crunch. He felt their nourishment and their satisfaction. He was a bigfoot, and he was grateful.
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