The Forest Dweller
“What a beautiful day! A mostly clear sky and the sun has just started breaking through the trees,” said Clark, the middle-aged Wisconsinite. He is five feet eight inches tall with friendly ice-gray eyes. His wavy brown hair and lumberjack apparel gave him the perfect appearance of being an outdoorsman. Yet in “the real world” he is the head curator of the new Harley-Davidson Museum in Wisconsin.
“I still think you might be gay Clark,” said James, the 36-year-old from Michigan. James is Clark’s assistant and second most knowledgeable curator in the Museum, when compared to Clark. He is six feet tall and has straight black hair with green eyes that seem to always eager for something. Wearing a black Harley-Davidson leather jacket, a black long-sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and black leather Harley-Davidson boots on he had the hardcore Harley-Davidson look.
Clark grinned as he held up his left hand and pointed at that hand’s ring finger and said, “You know I’m married. Hell, you were the best-man.”
“A good cover-up, but I’ll reveal your nasty secret yet,” said James, which caused them both to start laughing. Once they were able to breathe normally James said, “Speaking of which why isn’t Trudy here instead of me? Problems at home?”
“She doesn’t like camping,” replied Clark, but this was partly true. He did not want to tell James about his problems with Trudy at the time, though Clark was thinking that it was her time of the month.
The sun just started to hover over the treetops when Clark and James put up their tents. They had their tents set up near their cars close to the top of a steep and mostly tree-covered mountain, which was massive in size. Even closer to the top there is a large gift shop with a nice sized parking lot. This was placed near the exposed and smooth rock formation, which has a perfect three hundred-sixty degree view of the surrounding area.
I can’t believe how clean the air smells. It must be a combination of pine and salt. I don’t think I’m in Milwaukee any more, though I wouldn’t mind moving here in Maine…I wish Trudy was here, she would enjoy this scenery thought Clark. Clark’s thoughts were broken by the sound of thunder. A few minutes after this happened the sun was hidden out by a massive blockade of clouds.
“Looks like it is going to rain,” said James. Immediately after he said this it started to downpour. James looked around for a second, and then he said to Clark “Well, I am going into my tent. Which means you can stay out here for all I care but don’t come in here.”
“And you stay out of my tent James,” said Clark with a large smirk on his face.
Hours went by as the rain pounded down and the wind hammered on their tents, which kept Clark awake in his damp clothes. The normal sounds of a thunder storm were shattered from an ear-bleeding shriek combined with a loud crash that sounded like it came from the bottom of the mountain. What the hell was that? Must have been the wind thought Clark. Crash! This time it was much closer and by the sound of glass shattering with metal being mangled it sounded like at least one of the cars had been wrecked.
Clark then heard fabric being shredded and metal poles being snapped in half. Clark’s heart seemed to stop pounding when he heard that horrible sound.
“Help me Clar-”
James’s distress call had been cut short with the sound of flesh being shredded and bones being broken. Clark forced himself to move so he could begin looking in his gear for his flashlight, Buck knife, and Colt pistol with extra ammo. Clark held on to the flashlight and pistol, yet as hard as he tried he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He slipped his holster and Buck knife onto his belt and put the extra ammo in his pant’s pockets. Clark got out of his tent to see what happened to James’s tent. And Trudy told me I wasted money on this Mag light٭, yet it works fine in the rain thought Clark.
Clark got chills down his spine as he looked at James’s tent. “Jesus Christ,” said Clark. It was completely destroyed, the aluminum poles were all broken and the tent’s canvas was completely tattered. In the center of the wreck were some mats of hair and clumps of flesh with a puddle of blood, and splatters of blood seemed to be all over the wreckage. Clark turned to face his car so he could get away from this nightmare but his plans were already foiled. A massive balsam fir had fallen on both Clark’s and James’s cars, making them temporary decorations.
Clark looked back at James’s tent and noticed a bloody newspaper clipping near ground zero. Clark picked it up and read it.
Mysterious Events Happening at Acadia
Acadia National Park in Maine has supposedly lost its charm
and replaced it with horror and mystery. People have recently
gone missing and damage to both park and tourist property.
Rumor has it that an “evil Big Foot” is on the loose, but this sounds
Like BS. It probably is just some bored teenagers doing false missing
reports and damaging property to make it more believable.
Clark became more afraid for in the article the words “Acadia National Park…Maine…evil Big Foot” were highlighted. This fear was stimulated since he is camped on Cadillac Mountain at Acadia National Park in Maine. Yet he was mad that James had persuaded him to come here for his own agenda.
“I hope this is a dream, a very bad dream,” said Clark softly. Amongst the cold drops of rain Clark felt something warm and wet hit his right shoulder. He looked at it with the flashlight on it and saw a slimy red stain. Clark froze, not wanting to look up but he slowly did. Looking down at him was a pair of yellow orbs with burgundy-stained fangs.
Clark held up his pistol and shot the entire magazine at the beast, but not a single round hit it’s mark as the creature jumped into other trees after each shot. Clark didn’t need a clue as he reloaded the pistol and waited for the beast. God I hope that is not what I think it is thought Clark as he ran down the mountain, knowing that no one was at the gift shop and that there were no other campers on the mountain. Clark looked back just in time as the creature lunged at him from atop a tree. Clark jumped out of the way as a large, fury-wet limb with vicious looking claws slashed into the ground where Clark was previously at. Clark kept on running from the menacing creature, but from that attack Clark noticed that the creature had fur all over its body, but that was from a quick glance.
Clark’s lungs and legs were hurting from this exercise, but Clark ignored it. Clark stopped and looked up at a massive boulder in front of him. On top of the boulder was a dark mass with wet clumps of fur swaying in the wind. Then a flash of lightning revealed to Clark the creature’s appearance for a moment. It was huge, at least the size of a polar bear standing up and just as wide. It looked like it didn’t have a neck, and its nose and ears were hidden from that thick fur coat. Its brown fur made its black claws seem like eye sores. But those yellow eyes and jagged fangs got Clark’s full attention. It looked like it was smiling, like a child playing with his food. Immediately following the first lightning came a second, and at the second the creature wasn’t on the boulder. Clark panicked and started running again, but was stopped by the creature.
It thrust a limbed at Clark but he got out of the way, making the creature hit a tree. Splinters acted like shrapnel as it cut through Clark’s clothes along with his skin. The creature walked in front of Clark, each step shaking the ground. When it stopped it looked straight down at Clark with a menacing smile and those soul piercing eyes from Hell. All Clark could smell was decay.
“So you think this is a game. Well, bring it!” said Clark, dropping the flashlight and pulling out the Buck knife behind his back yet still holding the pistol. In response the creature threw a limb at Clark, but he saw it coming. When the arm was half way to its target, Clark took the knife and thrust it in the exposed armpit. The creature let out a pain shriek, making Clark want to cup his ears and scream. Instead, Clark twisted the knife, making more blood flow out and caused a more ear piercing scream. In retaliation the creature slashed Clark’s chest, making five deep gashes, and a couple to the bone.
Time seemed to stop for Clark as he looked at his wound. He then looked back up at the creature and his arm with the pistol was raised in unison with his head. “Go back to hell where you belong!” said Clark as he fired every round in the pistol into the monster’s chest. The creature’s breathing seemed to become more difficult as it slumped down on the rock ground. Clark stood over the beast, as if waiting for it to come back to life and attack him from behind. A few minutes went by when two park rangers came with weapons expecting to find a poacher, not the hero who killed the beast.
One of the park rangers said, “Is that the Forest Dweller?”
“The what?” said Clark as he looked at the park ranger who asked the question.
“The Forest Dweller is a creature that roams in Acadia National Park, though stories about it staying in this area have been around for centuries.”
Clark looked back down at the Forest Dweller and said, “Well, it better be it.”
“It’s a shame that one of them is dead now,” said one of the park rangers.
Clark turned to face the park ranger slowly while saying, “Are you telling me there are more of these monsters out there?”
“Yes. And we expect the public to still think there is only one out there.”
“And how do you propose the two of you will do that?”
“Simple,” said the other park ranger, “We’ll just choke out the fire before it spreads.”
Then the other park ranger quickly pointed his gun at Clark, at shot him at heart.
“What a beautiful day! A mostly clear sky and the sun has just started breaking through the trees,” said Clark, the middle-aged Wisconsinite. He is five feet eight inches tall with friendly ice-gray eyes. His wavy brown hair and lumberjack apparel gave him the perfect appearance of being an outdoorsman. Yet in “the real world” he is the head curator of the new Harley-Davidson Museum in Wisconsin.
“I still think you might be gay Clark,” said James, the 36-year-old from Michigan. James is Clark’s assistant and second most knowledgeable curator in the Museum, when compared to Clark. He is six feet tall and has straight black hair with green eyes that seem to always eager for something. Wearing a black Harley-Davidson leather jacket, a black long-sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and black leather Harley-Davidson boots on he had the hardcore Harley-Davidson look.
Clark grinned as he held up his left hand and pointed at that hand’s ring finger and said, “You know I’m married. Hell, you were the best-man.”
“A good cover-up, but I’ll reveal your nasty secret yet,” said James, which caused them both to start laughing. Once they were able to breathe normally James said, “Speaking of which why isn’t Trudy here instead of me? Problems at home?”
“She doesn’t like camping,” replied Clark, but this was partly true. He did not want to tell James about his problems with Trudy at the time, though Clark was thinking that it was her time of the month.
The sun just started to hover over the treetops when Clark and James put up their tents. They had their tents set up near their cars close to the top of a steep and mostly tree-covered mountain, which was massive in size. Even closer to the top there is a large gift shop with a nice sized parking lot. This was placed near the exposed and smooth rock formation, which has a perfect three hundred-sixty degree view of the surrounding area.
I can’t believe how clean the air smells. It must be a combination of pine and salt. I don’t think I’m in Milwaukee any more, though I wouldn’t mind moving here in Maine…I wish Trudy was here, she would enjoy this scenery thought Clark. Clark’s thoughts were broken by the sound of thunder. A few minutes after this happened the sun was hidden out by a massive blockade of clouds.
“Looks like it is going to rain,” said James. Immediately after he said this it started to downpour. James looked around for a second, and then he said to Clark “Well, I am going into my tent. Which means you can stay out here for all I care but don’t come in here.”
“And you stay out of my tent James,” said Clark with a large smirk on his face.
Hours went by as the rain pounded down and the wind hammered on their tents, which kept Clark awake in his damp clothes. The normal sounds of a thunder storm were shattered from an ear-bleeding shriek combined with a loud crash that sounded like it came from the bottom of the mountain. What the hell was that? Must have been the wind thought Clark. Crash! This time it was much closer and by the sound of glass shattering with metal being mangled it sounded like at least one of the cars had been wrecked.
Clark then heard fabric being shredded and metal poles being snapped in half. Clark’s heart seemed to stop pounding when he heard that horrible sound.
“Help me Clar-”
James’s distress call had been cut short with the sound of flesh being shredded and bones being broken. Clark forced himself to move so he could begin looking in his gear for his flashlight, Buck knife, and Colt pistol with extra ammo. Clark held on to the flashlight and pistol, yet as hard as he tried he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He slipped his holster and Buck knife onto his belt and put the extra ammo in his pant’s pockets. Clark got out of his tent to see what happened to James’s tent. And Trudy told me I wasted money on this Mag light٭, yet it works fine in the rain thought Clark.
Clark got chills down his spine as he looked at James’s tent. “Jesus Christ,” said Clark. It was completely destroyed, the aluminum poles were all broken and the tent’s canvas was completely tattered. In the center of the wreck were some mats of hair and clumps of flesh with a puddle of blood, and splatters of blood seemed to be all over the wreckage. Clark turned to face his car so he could get away from this nightmare but his plans were already foiled. A massive balsam fir had fallen on both Clark’s and James’s cars, making them temporary decorations.
Clark looked back at James’s tent and noticed a bloody newspaper clipping near ground zero. Clark picked it up and read it.
Mysterious Events Happening at Acadia
Acadia National Park in Maine has supposedly lost its charm
and replaced it with horror and mystery. People have recently
gone missing and damage to both park and tourist property.
Rumor has it that an “evil Big Foot” is on the loose, but this sounds
Like BS. It probably is just some bored teenagers doing false missing
reports and damaging property to make it more believable.
Clark became more afraid for in the article the words “Acadia National Park…Maine…evil Big Foot” were highlighted. This fear was stimulated since he is camped on Cadillac Mountain at Acadia National Park in Maine. Yet he was mad that James had persuaded him to come here for his own agenda.
“I hope this is a dream, a very bad dream,” said Clark softly. Amongst the cold drops of rain Clark felt something warm and wet hit his right shoulder. He looked at it with the flashlight on it and saw a slimy red stain. Clark froze, not wanting to look up but he slowly did. Looking down at him was a pair of yellow orbs with burgundy-stained fangs.
Clark held up his pistol and shot the entire magazine at the beast, but not a single round hit it’s mark as the creature jumped into other trees after each shot. Clark didn’t need a clue as he reloaded the pistol and waited for the beast. God I hope that is not what I think it is thought Clark as he ran down the mountain, knowing that no one was at the gift shop and that there were no other campers on the mountain. Clark looked back just in time as the creature lunged at him from atop a tree. Clark jumped out of the way as a large, fury-wet limb with vicious looking claws slashed into the ground where Clark was previously at. Clark kept on running from the menacing creature, but from that attack Clark noticed that the creature had fur all over its body, but that was from a quick glance.
Clark’s lungs and legs were hurting from this exercise, but Clark ignored it. Clark stopped and looked up at a massive boulder in front of him. On top of the boulder was a dark mass with wet clumps of fur swaying in the wind. Then a flash of lightning revealed to Clark the creature’s appearance for a moment. It was huge, at least the size of a polar bear standing up and just as wide. It looked like it didn’t have a neck, and its nose and ears were hidden from that thick fur coat. Its brown fur made its black claws seem like eye sores. But those yellow eyes and jagged fangs got Clark’s full attention. It looked like it was smiling, like a child playing with his food. Immediately following the first lightning came a second, and at the second the creature wasn’t on the boulder. Clark panicked and started running again, but was stopped by the creature.
It thrust a limbed at Clark but he got out of the way, making the creature hit a tree. Splinters acted like shrapnel as it cut through Clark’s clothes along with his skin. The creature walked in front of Clark, each step shaking the ground. When it stopped it looked straight down at Clark with a menacing smile and those soul piercing eyes from Hell. All Clark could smell was decay.
“So you think this is a game. Well, bring it!” said Clark, dropping the flashlight and pulling out the Buck knife behind his back yet still holding the pistol. In response the creature threw a limb at Clark, but he saw it coming. When the arm was half way to its target, Clark took the knife and thrust it in the exposed armpit. The creature let out a pain shriek, making Clark want to cup his ears and scream. Instead, Clark twisted the knife, making more blood flow out and caused a more ear piercing scream. In retaliation the creature slashed Clark’s chest, making five deep gashes, and a couple to the bone.
Time seemed to stop for Clark as he looked at his wound. He then looked back up at the creature and his arm with the pistol was raised in unison with his head. “Go back to hell where you belong!” said Clark as he fired every round in the pistol into the monster’s chest. The creature’s breathing seemed to become more difficult as it slumped down on the rock ground. Clark stood over the beast, as if waiting for it to come back to life and attack him from behind. A few minutes went by when two park rangers came with weapons expecting to find a poacher, not the hero who killed the beast.
One of the park rangers said, “Is that the Forest Dweller?”
“The what?” said Clark as he looked at the park ranger who asked the question.
“The Forest Dweller is a creature that roams in Acadia National Park, though stories about it staying in this area have been around for centuries.”
Clark looked back down at the Forest Dweller and said, “Well, it better be it.”
“It’s a shame that one of them is dead now,” said one of the park rangers.
Clark turned to face the park ranger slowly while saying, “Are you telling me there are more of these monsters out there?”
“Yes. And we expect the public to still think there is only one out there.”
“And how do you propose the two of you will do that?”
“Simple,” said the other park ranger, “We’ll just choke out the fire before it spreads.”
Then the other park ranger quickly pointed his gun at Clark, at shot him at heart.
