Glenda had a way to turn the most sinister subjects into howls of laughter. But when the laughter ended, she became very serious and she lowered her voice before she went on. “A few days ago, I was filling the coffee pot at the sink and I looked outside to watch Charlie waxing the new paint job on the Rolls. I could of sworn that I seen Walter and Rose sitting in the Rolls. They weren’t old and wrinkly like I remembered them though. They were younger, their skin almost glowing. Walter had a full head of hair and Rose was still a red head like when they first bought the car.” She smiled nervously before she added “It sure gave me the creeps!”
Abigail popped the bubble she’d made with her gum and smiling, she turned to her coworker, “They say soul mates are forever after all.”
Glenda smiled at her and replied, “Maybe you’re right Abi...You just may be right.” Glenda grabbed a pitcher of water to refill glasses. As she turned away from the counter she noticed a familiar couple sitting at the window booth. The Goodmans turned and smiled at Glenda, then dissolved away into thin air. The pitcher of water she was carrying crashed to the floor as she fainted from seeing the translucent couple vanish.
THE RIVERTON BIGFOOT
Large beads of sweat dripped off the older man’s brow on this hot and sticky July afternoon as he began prying up the wooden floor boards, one of many that the pair had plucked off of the house that had been home to the old Dixon couple. The older of the two men, a strong and tall man of fifty-five years, stood up and stretched his aching back for a moment. He looked at the black dumpster that held the pieces of the walls they had torn down earlier in the week. The floor was almost all gone too, and soon Chester Flemming and his nephew Harry would start tackling the beams.
Harry was a forty year old man with dark hair and a muscular build. They both maintained their shape by working construction jobs throughout the spring and summer months. The house they were currently working on was coming down piece by piece, and soon there would only remain the temporary, hollow cavity in the ground that would remind the locals of the house that had stood in the Riverton business district on Main Street.
The crew of two had been hired to demolish the house. Only thirty years old, the home had been in great condition structurally and the only owners of the home had maintained it with obvious pride. This prime location on Main Street however caused their land to be a well sought-after lot. Not many towns had a dead end for a main street, but Riverton did. At the very end of Main Street stood the City Hall. In order to get off Main Street, traffic would have to use the roundabout at the end of the street, and drive down Main a second time. This meant the Dixon house was passed twice, which made it a prime location for any business. Merle and Molly Dixon had been turning down offers to sell from eager business developers for several years. After Merle’s passing though, an aging Molly decided it was time to move into a smaller place of her own.
Harry and Chester had been given a month to tear the place down. They decided to spare the businesses on Main Street the noise of heavy equipment and so they went to work the old-fashioned way. They could salvage anything they wanted this way also, which turned out to be quite a bit, as the house was still in good shape. There was nothing much left of the house today though.
Chester glanced at his nephew as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his gloved left hand, leaving a streak of dust where the sweat had been and said, “Hey Junior, sorry about your dad. It’s too bad he had to go that way.”
Harry Junior looked over to his uncle and could see real sympathy in his eyes. “Yeah, he didn’t last long after the doc told him the news that he had cancer,” replied Harry. “We’re gonna have to take a few days off, the wake is the day after tomorrow.” Harry took off his dirty work gloves and reached for his bottle of water on the dusty wood floor.
“Of course, we’re ahead of schedule anyhow. There’s no problem there.” Chester replied. He started pulling and prying off the floorboards once more and continued on. “You realize the wake is gonna be a bit crazy, right?”
Harry threw a long piece of wood on top of the large pile they had amassed in one corner of the house. He turned and faced his uncle. “Oh I know. Dad’s been famous here for the last thirty years.”
Chester grinned a bit. “That’s an understatement. He put this place on the map!” He continued to work as he went on “Everyone in town thought he was crazy, telling people about the huge footprints he had seen by Bear Creek. I wish I would have been here to see it for myself. Makes it hard to believe when you don’t see it with your own eyes, ya know?” Harry nodded, his face growing more serious and he began recounting his memories of how his father had put a permanent mark on the town of Riverton.
“They found even bigger footprints in old Lester’s garden,” Harry said. “I remember it like it was yesterday. I was playing right here at the construction site of this very house actually, now that I think back. Like any other ten year old, I ran over to Lester’s as soon as I heard about the commotion over there.
“He’d been tilling his garden when he came across a hole that had been dug up in the middle of it all. When he went about examining it, he saw a pair of large footprints there. One print alone must have been about eighteen inches long and twelve across. They took pictures but by then people had trampled about to look at the hole in the ground and so the prints were partially destroyed. Lester had erased all the other prints with his tiller, never noticing they were there ‘til he came across the hole. He must have been half drunk again, the old fool!”
Harry and Chester continued working as they talked about Harry Senior and the wild stories that had began spreading that summer thirty years prior. Harry Senior had been the first to find evidence of some kind of creature bearing these large prints in the Riverton community, and because of this he had become a celebrity for a few weeks. His fifteen minutes of fame were cut short when the skeptics starting talking and arguing the validity of his claims. Soon Harry Senior had been labelled crazy. This in turn sparked a frenzy in Harry’s father, as he knew what he had seen and was determined to find proof.
Across town, on the same day Harry Senior had made his discovery, Charlie Bryerson’s old Pontiac had been found with a huge dent adorning the hood. The front suspension was destroyed to the point that the oil pan was touching the ground. Along the edge of the driveway there stood a row of flowerbeds in a multitude of bright colours. It was below the cascading petals in the soft earthen soil that a partial foot print was embedded. Several people passed by the spot that day, but with only a partial print and none knowing any better, nobody noticed the outline for what it really was.
On that day Riverton became famous, all thanks to Harry Flemming Senior. He had claimed to have seen several sizes of prints, all larger than a human could ever possibly make, but he’d been able to discern three distinct sizes of prints. These claims began a string of sightings from locals and tourists alike in the following months, the latter flocking to Riverton for the next few months in an effort to see the now famous Riverton Bigfoot. Most of the sightings turned out to be bogus claims from people wanting in on the action.
Harry Senior had been interviewed by the local and regional news reporters. Together they had spent a few hours filming the spot where he’d claimed to have found the prints. They asked him to recall every detail he possibly could of what he had seen. Many people had wanted the same attention and so the masses came to Riverton. Even a few souvenir stands popped up around town, selling Riverton Bigfoot T-shirts and baseball caps. This had all started around the end of May, and by September things had finally started to get back to normal in town.
December of that year had been bitter and cold, leaving its frozen grip on Riverton soil. Though there had not been a single snowfall yet, and no more footprints had been seen since earlier on in Spring that year, most of the town was convinced that Glendale Hicks’s farm had been visited by the Riverton Bigfoot. The family dog had been
found dead, his body distorted in an unnatural fashion, his limbs and ribs crushed to bits. The veterinarian told the family that whatever had hit him was big and had done so with an incredible force. The sturdy fence was still standing but yet three sheep were missing from their property. The only thing the Hicks family had found was a small patch of light brown fur on one of the barbs on the fence.
Two more sheep would disappear that winter, both during an intense snow storm in February. This time the sheep were taken from inside the barn. One single footprint was perfectly formed in a patch of snow near the door of the barn. By the time old Glen got his wife to dig out their Polaroid camera, the snow had melted from the heat coming from the barn’s open door. The evidence was gone by the time Glen’s wife had found the camera. The stories surrounding all these events fed the ones that had started earlier that year. The stories grew and morphed into tales of grandeur by some less than believable locals and vacationers. Indeed that year the legend of the Riverton Bigfoot was born.
* * *
Thirty years later, Riverton still held onto the legend as much as it had held onto the surrounding woods that encased the town. Just beyond city hall, down past the first large patch of woods behind the municipal buildings, there was a very small and odd-looking clearing in the woods. It was shaped in a circular pattern, a thick ring of trees lining the clearing. Had it not been for the differing height of trees in the circle, one might have thought the trees had been deliberately planted that way. The area held a few cool spots where the shade trapped the wind in its grip.
It was in this clearing that a creature squatted, long brown fur covering its entire body. It sat and waited in a heavy silence, its presence cloaked by the shadows of the forest. It had grown restless, hunger overcoming its every waking thought. Some would have said it looked like an ape, but its features had a human-like appeal, although this creature was clearly not a man.
Even as it squatted on the ground its head would be taller than most men. Stillness surrounded the clearing and centered itself on the creature. It sat completely still, its shallow breathing as quiet as the air that moved in and out of its huge lungs. It stayed there crouched in the same position for a very long time, its innate fury intact.
Suddenly, its head twisted to one side as if some sound had caught its attention while its eyes fixed on a distant spot in the woods. In an instant, the creature had crossed the clearing, a blur of speed and agility like none had ever seen before, nor would see coming. Its massive legs crossed the clearing in the direction of the deer it had so aptly heard coming from such a great distance with its sensitive hearing. It wrapped one of its large hands around the deer’s neck and picked it up several feet off the ground. The deer’s legs kicked and bucked as it struggled to breathe, its windpipe crushed in the creature’s murderous grip. A loud snapping then a cracking sound echoed in the forest and the deer was suddenly hanging limp and dead in the creature’s hand.
The air carried a lingering scent that the beast picked up at once. It dropped the deer to the ground and spun around, its eyes fixating upon what it already knew would be staring back. The familiar and sickening stench of man had permeated its nostrils moments before, and now there stood before it the small weakling of a man.
John Murray stood frozen in fear, staring at this eight foot tall hairy, man-like creature. It had just killed the deer that he had been stalking for the last hour. The beast had snapped the animal’s neck with one massive hand in a swift motion. The creature now stood before him and began snarling, exposing pointy and sharp teeth dripping with foul smelling saliva. Even from this distance he could smell the creature, a pungent odour coming from the beast and infecting his own nostrils, making his stomach churn from both fear and repulsion.
His rifle blasted out one explosive shot before the creature reached him. John would never know if he hit it or not. It had reached out for John and grabbed his head in one single hand, crushing his skull instantly, the bits and fragments mixing in with the pulped goulash that just moments prior had been John’s brain. Every bird and small mammal flew or ran away at that moment when they heard the guttural roar echoing through the forest. The creature hoisted John’s limp body with a single hand and threw him over its massive shoulder. It picked up the deer with its other hand and headed back towards the clearing, returning as quietly as it had arrived. It would dine on raw meat again tonight, as it had been doing for so many years in Riverton.
* * *
It was the day before the wake. Harry and Chester had been working all morning. They were done tearing apart the floors and had hauled in some equipment to start demolishing the basement. They took a longer lunch that day and talked about Harry Senior again.
“You know your dad was still convinced, even ‘til he took his last breath, that Bigfoot was still in the woods on the outskirts of town.” Chester offered a sincere smile to his nephew, his right hand lifting up his baseball cap as he scratched his sweaty forehead.
“Oh I know. His obsession grew stronger as time went on. He never could let go of that thing. Did you believe his stories uncle Chester?” Harry had often wondered to himself if he was a bad son for not believing. His uncle’s reply came as a comfort to this worry.
Chester put his right hand on his nephew’s shoulder and replied “One might as well believe in aliens or the tooth fairy. Bigfoot is just a legend son, you know that.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder before he chuckled a bit. “Now let’s get back at it for a little while so we can go home and get some rest for the funeral home tomorrow. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long day.” Not long after, the area buzzed to the sound of Harry’s jackhammer pounding on the Dixon house basement floor.
* * *
Instinct had been a friend to the beast in the woods that adorned the outskirts of Riverton. It remembered the passing of the two others of its kind that had been living in these woods for many years. The two others were much bigger than it had been when they passed away. It was by using its own adaptability that had allowed it to survive alone in this unfamiliar wilderness. Its kind, unlike man, would never fall into deep depression over living such a lonely and solitary life, spending each sombre day merely surviving by instinct alone. Its kind simply grew accustomed to it and adapted.
Its hunger was the one thing that its lonely life had revolved around for the past thirteen years. It had started struggling alone since the death of the others of its kind, struggling for survival in this small community. It searched for food, stalking the woods, crouching and hiding, allowing its superior senses to pick up on any approaching prey before capturing it and taking it back to the clearing where it would feed on its kill. It was not always an easy task to go undetected by the pesky man creatures. They were the ones to watch for, as they had their weapons and their technology and although its strength and speed would be no match against any man, its body was no match against their metal and machines. It had grown to loath man during its years on Riverton soil.
Hunger had been its one focus, its only need and want. It had consumed most of the small deer in one day. The creature, large and powerful, had a massive appetite and only filled itself with meat. It was now working on consuming its last kill. John Murray had not been a very big man and the beast did not care very much for man flesh. It had eaten its fair share of man in the past years, but it would rather have had another sheep. It was getting difficult to keep satiated, as wildlife was getting scarce once more. There had been days when all it had to eat was a rabbit or two.
Today it would have a good meal though, gorging on both the deer and the man. When it fed it ate nearly everything except the bones, claws, hooves, and teeth of a kill. Its kind left nothing else, it ate the organs and the flesh as well. Once done with the remnants of what had once been John Murray, the creature flung the skeletal remains on top of a giant pile of clean bones of varying sizes and types of animals. There were bones of deer, moose, bear, rabbit, fox, coyot
e, man, sheep, cow, pig, and nearly every other wild or farm animal that it could sink its teeth into in order to feed its large appetite. All these animals had met the same fate and had become another meal for the giant razor toothed creature known locally as the Riverton Bigfoot.
* * *
The concrete floor of the old Dixon house basement was breaking up bit by bit, proving to be much more difficult than Harry and Chester had originally thought it would be. They had spent all day chipping away at it but still progress was slow. They had assumed by looking at all the imperfections in the floor that it would be easy, but the spacing between each of the rebar was so small that it proved to be an arduous task.
By late afternoon their muscles ached and they were about to call it a day when Harry walked to the middle of the room. Here he noticed a few imperfections in the concrete and looked at these closely. He wondered how the floor had passed inspection with such shady workmanship. A piece of rebar was even partly showing through the top of the floor. As Chester continued on with the jackhammer, a sudden crack formed from the middle of the basement and outwardly on each side, reaching the far end of the basement walls. A loud popping sound was heard over the jackhammer as the fissure spread out in the concrete. Chester turned off the machinery and joined Harry in the middle of the room to examine the spot where the crack had first sprouted.
“Well ain’t that strange,” said Chester looking at the spot.
“It looks as though there was no rebar here at all,” said Harry.
Chester turned and picked up the sledge hammer that was sitting on the dusty and crumbling floor. He brought it down hard and a large chunk of concrete broke off and exposed rebar underneath. The rebar was bent downwards for some reason, leaving a wide gap in the center. Chester continued on with the sledge hammer, large pieces of concrete falling away, revealing more of this strange formation of rebar, forming a circular pattern.
Dark Tales for Dark Nights Page 4