Tuesday 11 February 2014

For those of you who have not yet read this story, this is the opening to my novel, 'The Crater Mountain Sasquatch Legend.' Let me know what you think of it.

Chapter 1


High upon Crater Mountain, making his way along the ridges with quick wide strides, dislodging rocks that went hurtling down the steep solid slope, came the nine hundred pound Sasquatch. His long massive arms swinging forward and back to distribute his weight appropriately. Most of the hair covering his body was four inches long, dark brown and silver tipped. The hair growing from his head was very long and sandy brown in color. It flapped as it caught the air with each stride. He had a long brown beard and other than his head, his forearms possessed hair of a generous length.
He stumbled just for a moment as he almost over compensated for his top heavy upper body strength. His shoulders were bulky measuring six feet across and they shook the frost free with each powerful step. The muscles at the back of his neck were so developed; it appeared as though he did not have a neck at all.
He stopped quickly. His huge feet of sixteen inches long and eight inches wide, dug into the loose rock. In the silence, he turned his ear to the wind and listened. Then, he turned his wide flat pug nose up and sniffed.
Ah, yes. His large lips stretched across his face into a smile. He was close now. Peering down at the valley below, he knew he would finally catch up with his lifelong enemy, Skurtchotte.
Gurchukk carried the scars from many previous fierce battles with the wicked old grizzly bear. One great scar on his hind leg still acted up every time he thought of the old bear. It had crippled him for many weeks. Most of which is all but impossible to see any more for it is hidden under his long dark hair.
Now, it had returned to his kind and ransacked their community. Gurchukk was regarded as one of the strongest and most courageous of the clan. Skurtchotte thinks he can come and go as he pleases and just take whatever he wishes? Does he believe himself to be the king of the mountain? Perhaps invincible? Gurchukk was no coward when challenged and he was sure to make good on this, what he believed to be, the final battle.
He continued on, ambling down the steep slope.
Entering the thicker forest of coniferous trees, Gurchukk felt a lucky feeling come over him. Yes, today was the day. He would finally be rid of the mischievous old grizzly. He felt so good as he leaped, soaring over low bent trees and landing with his full 900 pounds of weight. His feet thundered as gravity pulled him closer to his long awaited victory. He came upon a long waterfall where the land steepened under his feet. Gurchukk jumped clear across a twelve foot expanse of the steep rushing water. As he did so, he could imagine returning to his clan with a hero’s welcome. He huffed as he chuckled with the exuberant thought. With the wind through his long body hair, he felt a keen sense of not only freedom, but the spiritual connection to the entire land around him.
This was Sasquatch country.

Finally, he caught up to his quarry. Looking over a ridge of rock, he found Old Skurtchotte chewing on the branches of a Saskatoon bush. It was not yet time for the bush to produce its fruit. Gurchukk took hold of a large rock from within the great mitts of his hand. He hurtled the rock through the air like it had been launched from a catapult. The rock knocked Skurtchottes’ head to the ground, but he quickly rose up in a daze.
Gurchukk wanted the bear to know that he was being hunted. He let out a loud whistle followed by a deep barrel chested roar. Skurtchotte remembered Gurchukk and broke into a run. The bear was very fast, but Gurchukk was faster. The concealment of thick bush bursted open as Gurchukk leapt out. He moved through the air silently, clearing the rocky ridge and landing on the flat ground below with a terrible thud. He had scared Ol’ Skurtchotte away by chasing him in the past, but this time it would not end so easily. As Gurchukk pursued Skurtchotte into the lesser light of dusk, they skirted the edge of Red Bridge Lake. Their reflections mirrored in its clear depths. On the far side, bright fires glowed as the delicious aroma of cooked meat wafted over them through the breeze. They both began to slow down as they sniffed the air. Both of them longed to investigate the source, but they could not forget that they were at war.
Stinging arrows and the loud thunder cracks of rifles quickly awoke their minds to a new variable of danger. The noise was followed with shouting and the stomping of many feet. They beat drums and every conceivable thing that would make a loud noise for it was a primitive Indian encampment. They always performed this way to frighten off any wild animals that lurked in their vicinity. They did not differentiate between predators of the wild and evil spirits.
Gurchukk would not let the sounds of the little people stop him from finishing what he had set out to do. Finally, he was able to climb right up on Skurtchotte. The old bear was strong, he bucked the massive Sasquatch off his back and Gurchukk fell back into a thick thorny bush and a pile of rubbish. He screamed in terror as he could only see the fangs of the grizzly coming at him. Gurchukk rolled onto his haunches and bared his sharp teeth right back at Skurtchotte. They battled one another, blow for blow. The grizzlies’ advantage was its sharp claws, but Gurchukk had long strong arms that he used to swing powerful punches at Skurtchotte.
Again, Skurtchotte took off near to the edge of the lake until he bounded right into the Indian encampment. The men attacked the bear to protect their women and children.
Gurchukk did not want to miss a thing. He stayed behind in the concealment of the thick foliage. He would be satisfied to see the fate of the bears’ demise come at the hands of the strange little people.
The women screamed as chaos filled the camp. As the women were trying to round up the children into their huts, one small child ran unaccounted for. The child was very scared and seemed to be searching for some place or someone who could provide safety.
The little girl of four years old, ran right into Gurchukks’ shin. She fell backwards onto her hiney. Blinking her glossy dark eyes, she strained to see through the night as she looked up at Gurchukk with curiosity and amazement. Gurchukk could see the shadow of a native man thrust a long spear through Skurtchotte’s heart, but no one noticed the Sasquatch’s presence, nor the little girl who was with him.
Gurchukk was about to back away out of sight when he caught the scent of the child. The aroma filled his sinuses and his mind calculated that the child was female. His nose, finely tuned in the wild, was sensitive to such scents.
Though it was indeed dark, the Sasquatch’s nocturnal eyes could see the little girl perfectly. She had ageless and smooth cinnamon skin with a sensitive, non-threatening innocence in her big brown eyes. At the sides of her head, was jet black hair braided down over her little shoulders. Colorful beads decorated her clothing of skins and furs.
With a swoop of his great arm, Gurchukk snatched up the child and disappeared into the woods. It was more a moment of spontaneity than a choice. Before Gurchukk could process another thought, or make his next decision, the little feminine child was in his arms and he was moving more swiftly than the wind through the deciduous forest of trees.
The mother of the child came out of the hut calling the little girls’ name. Her appearance was every bit like that of her daughter’s only in adult form. “Tiarrow! Tiarrow!” Her intuition told her at that moment that she would never see her daughter again. She screamed out her daughters’ name and wept as she gazed into the dark shadows of the forest.

There, in the distance she was certain that within a sound of trees cracking and thundering, she could hear the faint scream of her baby girl fade out to the distance. Then all grew quiet… Dead quiet.