November 15, 2024
Brandon, Kyle, and Seth had always been close, the kind of friends whose bonds formed in the muddy creeks of Northern California. From the time they were kids, they had been fascinated by Bigfoot. Not the way other kids were, as a casual “What if?” fueled by cartoons and campfire stories, but with a real, burning curiosity. They spent their teenage years dragging themselves through the woods around their small town, half drunk on cheap beer, laughing at the idea that they might one day stumble across a real-life monster. It started as a joke, a fun way to escape the monotony of their small lives, but over time, it became something else—an obsession.
They were in their twenties now, and the obsession had matured. No more drunken hunts with slurred words about Bigfoot. This time, they were serious. They had spent months—hell, years—saving up money, researching online, and building something to finally trap the creature. A massive metal cage, ten feet high, painted to look like a bush, complete with a trove of bait: berries, nuts, salmon, even elk meat. It was their masterpiece. They were no longer just curious boys. They were hunters now. This time, they’d prove Bigfoot existed, or they’d die trying.
The hike to their chosen spot was brutal. They had never been this far into the woods before. The cage, which weighed over 300 pounds, had to be dragged, shoved, and heaved up a rocky, forested hill. The sun beat down on their necks, and the tension between them simmered just below the surface. Kyle, tall and lanky, was the one who always seemed to lose his patience first. “You’re pulling too hard on the damn ropes, Brandon,” he snapped at one point, veins bulging in his neck.
“Maybe if you did more than bitching, we’d be there by now,” Brandon shot back, his muscles straining under the weight of the cage. Brandon was shorter, stockier, and the natural leader of the group, even though the other two would never admit it. His dark beard dripped with sweat as he adjusted his grip on the ropes.
Seth was the peacemaker, as always, and when Kyle was ready to lose it, Seth cut in with a grin. “Come on, guys, if we’re gonna catch Bigfoot, we can’t be killing each other first.”
Six hours later, they finally reached the clearing. It was perfect—isolated, far from any trails, with dense trees all around and a stream nearby. The kind of place where something big, something secret, could live without being seen for decades. They set up the trap carefully, each step deliberate. The bait was laid out like an offering, the cage locked with a complex system of ropes and pulleys. By the time they were done, it was nearly sunset, the sky turning an ominous red above the treeline.
They walked back to their camp, a mile from the trap, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. This was it. This was the moment they had been building toward for years.
Around the campfire, they cracked open beers and fell back into their familiar rhythm, laughing and talking about what they would do when they caught Bigfoot. They fantasized about fame and fortune, how they’d show all the skeptics who ever laughed at them. Seth, always the dreamer, imagined selling the story to Hollywood. Kyle imagined book deals and interviews. Brandon, more grounded, just wanted to see it for himself.
One by one, they fell asleep, their excitement slowly giving way to exhaustion. The forest, once alive with the sounds of night creatures, seemed to settle into an eerie silence.
Then, the sound came.
It was subtle at first, like the low rumble of distant thunder, but it grew louder. It wasn’t thunder at all. It was a screech, something primal, something alive. Brandon bolted upright, his heart hammering in his chest. Seth was already awake, his face pale in the firelight. “What the hell was that?” Kyle muttered, still half-asleep.
They looked at each other. The same thought crossed their minds at the same time. The trap.
Without another word, they grabbed their flashlights and bolted into the woods. Adrenaline pumped through their veins, making the mile-long sprint to the trap feel like nothing. They couldn’t believe it. They had caught something. They had to have caught something.
As they crested the hill overlooking the trap, they stopped dead in their tracks. The trap stood there, untouched, empty. The bait was still there. Everything was as they had left it.
But the sound had been coming from the trap—they were sure of it.
“What the hell?” Brandon whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. They swept their flashlights around the area, but there was no sign of anything. No prints. No broken branches. Nothing.
“Did we imagine it?” Seth asked, his voice shaking.
Kyle, ever the skeptic, stepped forward, his light dancing over the ground. “Maybe it was just—”
He never finished his sentence. A sudden cracking sound echoed through the woods. Seth, who had stepped back toward the camp, froze. The branch swung from nowhere, striking him in the chest, a jagged splinter stabbing into his throat. Blood sprayed across the forest floor as Seth dropped, gasping and clutching his neck.
Brandon and Kyle rushed to him, but the wound was deep. Blood poured from Seth’s neck, soaking the ground beneath him. His wide, panicked eyes told them all they needed to know—Seth was dying.
Then, they heard it again. The screech, louder this time, angrier.
Brandon bolted. “I’m getting help!” he screamed as he sprinted into the night, leaving Kyle with Seth. But the scream came again, this time from the direction Brandon had run. A sharp, human scream—Brandon’s. Then nothing.
Kyle’s hands were slick with Seth’s blood as he frantically tried to think. “Hold on, man, just hold on,” he whispered. He knew Seth didn’t have much time. But they were hours from help, hours from any hope. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything but the awful, unnatural silence that followed the scream.
Then Kyle saw it. The branch that had hit Seth—it wasn’t natural. It had been sharpened, fashioned into a weapon. Someone, or something, had set a trap.
A sudden realization struck him. Brandon wasn’t getting help. Brandon wasn’t coming back.
Kyle hoisted Seth onto his shoulder, his muscles burning under the weight. He had to try. He had to get Seth back to the car, or at least somewhere safe. As he stumbled through the forest, his flashlight flickered over the blood-soaked dirt. This was where Brandon had fallen. But where was he?
The light swept up into the trees, and that’s when he saw him.
Brandon hung from the highest branch, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, his body tied up in what looked like ropes made of thin branches, like the forest itself had reached out and claimed him. His dead eyes stared blankly into the night, and for the first time, Kyle felt real, bone-deep terror.
He dropped Seth to the ground, frantically scanning the woods around him. He was alone, utterly alone. The forest pressed in, the silence heavy and suffocating.
And then came the scream.
Kyle turned, and there it was—his lifelong obsession, standing just feet from him. Bigfoot. Its hulking form loomed in the darkness, its eyes glowing with rage. Before Kyle could move, the creature reached down and grabbed Seth by the head. The cracking sound that followed was unmistakable—Seth’s skull, crushed like an eggshell.
Kyle screamed, but his voice was swallowed by the woods. Bigfoot snarled, turning away and dragging Seth’s limp body into the darkness.
A loud crack, followed by his legs being kicked out from below him. He came crashing to the ground. Both his ankles were shattered, bone exposed and glistening in the dim light. He screamed again, helpless, paralyzed by the pain.
And then, from the trees, came the sound.
Not one scream. Dozens. Surrounding him. Bigfoot wasn’t alone.
They were everywhere. And they were hungry.
The last thing Kyle saw was the glow of their eyes closing in on him, and he realized, in the final moments before the pain became too much to bear, that they had never been the hunters.
They were the prey.
0 Comments