Call me Topher. The night was light by a bright moon, with an eerie warmth in the air. The peep toads kept me company on that first day in May. That afternoon, I walked into a thick forest outside of Chepachet to find my tennis ball that had gotten away from me. After walking some time, I seemed to have gotten lost. I could hear cars in the distance with the silent night creeping in upon me; I decided to make a camp.


                I spotted a steep hill with a small sheltered clearing at the top. I expected someone to find me in an open area. After pitching camp, I quickly began to slumber. As I slept my mind was pulsating with flashes of light and color, as well as the faces of a thousand demons. Suddenly I was awakened by a deep whooping below. BEOOU BEOOU rang out threw the night sending a chill up my spine. I gripped my sheets in fear. As the noise came near, I sang my favorite Flukes song to calm my nerves. I finished half of Was Ted when I saw a figure dash by. I heard the familiar sound of my tennis ball, being bounced wishing I could only be in gym class. My tennis ball rolled over to me and I flashed it with my light, revealing the foot of a monster.


                This foot was covered in white hair with a pink underside.  As I began to look up, I saw two hairy muscular legs, bigger than any mans.  These legs led to a gigantic torso with tremendously broad shoulders.  Atop these shoulders was a goofy grin gazing at me.  This beast had a very wide nose with a thick brow above beady eyes, which were obviously not human.  He continued to grin and whispered the word Sazemscatch.  I screeched and dropped my flashlight.  This thing made a bellowing yelp and hid behind a bush.  In the moonlight, I could see the fear in his eyes, as Im sure he could in mine.  The creature began to cry, as I tried to comfort him.  I inquired the animal, Dont cry, dont cry and he responded in a deep, gruff voice with broken English: Dont cry.  I said hello, he said hello.  I sang the first line of Was Ted and he sang back.  As I chuckled, the creature, whom I christened Sazemscatch, laughed heartily.  Sazemscatch then took me in his arms and, with great stride, returned me to town.


                We walked many miles and arrived by dawn, safe in Sazemscatchs grasp.  As I bid my new friend adieu and began to walk away, I heard heavy footsteps behind me and a sad voice bearing, Sazemscatch?  I pointed to the deep, dark forest and said, Home.  He said home and pointed in my direction.  I turned him around and gave him a push.  He walked into the brush and sobbed a mighty sob, while I made way for town. 


                As I headed towards the church for my Sunday service, I felt wet, heavy breathing on my neck.  I turned to find a smiling Sazemscatch lumbering down Tourtellot Hill.  As I hurried to hide the baby of a beast, the local reverend stepped out of camp Rugles.  Upon viewing the behemoth giggly Sazemscatch hiding behind a thin street lamp with his hands covering his eyes, he called the townspeople to arms.  Kill the beast! the gathering mob shouted with torch and rifle in hand, Kill the beats!  But Sazemscatch just chanted back at the crowd.  One of the folk fired a shot at Sazemscatch, grazing his ear.  In a fit of rage, Sazemscatch pushed a tree over into oncoming traffic.  He began to wail and whoop and pound and scream, the mob ever enclosing.  Seeing no other alternative, the Sazemscatch ran into the mountains.  As we now know, no man can catch a Sazemscatch.


                That was the last time I saw Sazemscatch, though I trek these woods everyday looking for a friend long lost.  It is rumored that he will twist off street signs, sending motorists lost into the wilderness, for a friend or for revenge on a people so cold I dont know.  Some tourists mention a whit ape weeping in the wood.  I just laugh and say Thats Sazemscatch.  I owe my life to this mystical creature.  He has been known to follow the sound of Flukes records.  So if you a big, crying ape-man, dont be alarmed, he just wants to play.  Long live the Sazemscatch.


 


The end


 


By Jep Hassemspree