Personal Family Stroytelling

The story of Dad and Big Foot. It is a true story—says my dad—about him having an encounter with the mysterious creature we no nothing about.

The story is supposed to be told in summer, due to the fact that this was the easiest way for my dad to really get into the story and freak my brothers and me out. I’m sure looking back on our experiences with storytelling, that it was a tactic to get us to remember the story with pictures in our head of the scary woods behind my father, and the smell of pine and sometimes, if I was really into the story, the faint stench of what smelled like wet dog. This was the clincher to the story, when my father would hold his nose up to the sky and sniff. As a little kid I could smell Big Foot's pungent aroma floating through the woods, and onto the porch of our cabin deep in the woods of the Sierra's.

Now writing it down, like all oral traditions, you miss out on so much of the story that cannot be put into words.

It was in late summer, when the air was still warm and the grass was slowly beginning to turn yellow. I was on a fishing trip with Grandpa, Grandma, Sis, and my little dog Lucy in the Sierra's. Grandpa and I had been fishing all day, and it was getting time to head in so that we could get the fish ready for eating. We walked steadily through the woods to our campsite where Grandma and Sis had started the fire. We had caught four fish exactly so everyone could have their own. After dinner, we sat around the campfire singing songs and telling stories. When the campfire had died down and the faint glow of embers was the only thing left, we nestled into our sleeping bags under a sky spotted with trillions of stars and fell asleep.

In the middle of the night I woke up having to use the bathroom, I tried to hold it in. The woods were dark, and the breeze sent chills from my head to my toes. It was still warm out and the moon had just started to peak it's face out from behind the ridged mountain tops, sparkling on the lake water. I finally couldn't hold it any longer. I unzipped my sleeping bag and looked around. Everyone was a sleep, the embers were still dimly glowing as I passed. I walked into the woods hearing the trees talking to each other with ever puff of wind. That's when I caught sent of something fowl, it smelled like a wet dog. But Lucy was sound asleep by the glowing embers 10 feet behind me. The smell got stronger as walked deeper into the woods. I turned around to see if I could still see the campsite. Suddenly I heard the crunching of dried leaves as if someone, or something, was walking through the woods just ahead. I quickly turned around to see what it was. And that's when I saw it! Standing upright like a man, but covered in what looked like fur. It was dark and I couldn't make out the direction it was headed. Petrified I couldn't move! It turned, sniffed the air, and looked directly at me. I could see it's eyes catch the moonshine, it started towards me, swaggering and swaying with every step. I couldn't move, I was scared stiff and yet amazed at what I was seeing.

BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! It was Lucy right by my side barking at this creature coming towards me! It stopped about 20 feet from me. I could see the texture of it's fur, a dark brown, with what looked like twigs and leaves stuck in it. It stood about 10 feet tall, it's face like nothing I've ever seen. BARK! BARK! BARK! Lucy kept barking but wouldn't venture any closer than where I was standing.
And then it turned and took off at a fast pace camouflaging itself with the dark night woods.

Lucy and I ran back to camp, where everyone had awaken from the barking. I told them what I had seen. Grandma told me to go to sleep and stop imagining things, Grandpa leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I believe you son."

The next morning Lucy, Grandpa, and myself walked into the woods were I claimed to have seen the creature, but we couldn't find any trace of it.

The end.