Sasquatchattraction
I came up with this crazy storyline, don’t ask me how or why, a couple of months ago. It’s a middle-grade romance novel geared mostly towards female tweens and teens about a sasquatch girl who falls for a human boy. It’s light and fun, a little silly, nothing to be taken too seriously…
I got it started and thought it might be fun to invite readers to help steer the storyline in pivotal places. You see, I never map out a plot when I write. Part of the fun is figuring out the story as it unfolds. So I shall dole this out in bits and pieces, then ask you what should happen next. Post your vote here if you wish, on Facebook, Twitter, or email me directly if you want. I’ll give a couple of choices, but will also welcome any write-in votes you may have as well. Have fun with this – I certainly am!
And now, without further ado…
Sasquatchattraction
Most people believe we’re just a legend… The terms thrown out – sasquatch, bigfoot, Yeti – the list goes on and on, aren’t kind. And believe me, the stories aren’t accurate.
The grainy photos, the hoaxes, the folklore of attacks, throwing rocks, wielding caveman clubs… Let me just set the record straight: it’s all a bunch of phony baloney. At least that’s a term I think you humans use. We’ve got much more sophisticated language in our culture, but I won’t get into that just now. I’ll keep this on your level.
The fact is, your civilization views ours as inferior. Less intelligent. Crude. Stupid. Unrefined. Dirty. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I mean, why do you think there’s no concrete evidence of our existence?
Quite simply: because we don’t want you to know about us, and we’re more than equipped to outsmart you.
My name is Flora, and I am what you call a sasquatch. My feet are not big, my body is not covered in hair and no, I do not have fleas.
Over time, our members have evolved at a much more accelerated rate than the homo sapiens – the human species. We found that your culture was far too slow – physically, mentally, emotionally – to be compatible with ours. So one day, about three hundred years ago, we just disappeared. Backed away from your dwellings and created our own.
It’s really not that difficult, finding places to exist, invisible from the human race. You’d actually be surprised how very little of the earth you humans explore. You get bunched together in your big cities, and sometimes smaller dwellings, and get stuck in your travel patterns. Whatever you do – work, school, ball games, night clubs – you stick to your normal rut and forget there’s a whole world out there, completely unexplored. Mountains left untouched, islands never discovered, barren land completely ignored. Well, at least by you. It’s our paradise, our home.
Oh, and by the way, that grainy photograph… The famous one shot by the two guys making a movie? Yeah, that was my Uncle Stan in a fur-coated body glove. Stan was a notorious prankster when he was younger. My grandparents said he was reckless and could have exposed us. But to this day, he still brags about duping those two camera men.
It’s not unusual for indigenous tribes to separate themselves from mainstream culture. There are remote civilizations in every corner of the world, each with their own reason to remain distant from the surrounding world. The difference between their tribes and ours? They’ve all allowed themselves to be watched, contacted, communicated with, and sometimes even studied.
We don’t want to be studied.
We know more about you, and every other animal species for that matter, than your kind will ever know.
I don’t mean to sound snooty, please understand. Dad says that like most kids my age, I have a know-it-all attitude that seeps from my pores. Mom says I’m not very tolerant and open-minded. You know what? They’re probably right, but I don’t really care. I’m tired of hearing stories about how my family is being painted as furry, unrefined animals. Humans eat half their food with their hands, licking their dirty paws clean after every bite. Talk about crude… Please.
Yes we can read, yes we can write. Yes we have our own language, but we understand yours, too. In fact, I’m fluent in more than thirty different dialects, thanks to our superior technology and the fact that I can watch televised programming from anywhere in the world.
What do I look like? Um, pretty much like you humans. In fact, we can blend into your society any time we want, and you’ll never even suspect you’re walking next to a “sasquatch.” We do it all the time – to buy cars, get groceries, you know – the same kinds of things you do every day. Only when we’re done, we go back to our home, disappear without a trace.
* * *
“FLORAAAAA! Mom wants you!”
My sister’s piercing voice never ceases to get under my skin. She’s thirteen, older by two years, and I swear she thinks she runs the universe. She’s home for the weekend, already in her first year of advanced education. Your equivalent, or the closest thing, is college. We finish our primary studies at twelve, then move on to professional studies.
I enabled the password protected screen saver on my laptop and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Mom stood at the sink, cooking for tonight – the whole family was gathering at our house for dinner.
“Mom? You needed me?” I asked sweetly, then shot a sarcastic glance at my sister, who sat at the table filing her nails.
“Oh, yes honey… Thank you. I’ve run out of corn starch. Can you drive into the city grocery and pick a box up for me?”
I crinkled my nose. “Can’t I just go down to our market?”
“You know all of our stores are closed today, Flora. Due to the holiday.”
We have our own independence day. We call it Evolution Day, and it marks the time when we broke away from the human world and started living separately. Kind of like your 4th of July, Cinco de Mayo, Thanksgiving, Flag Day, Revolution Day, Bastille Day, wherever you live…
“Can’t Aspen do it?” I hated going into the city. It always made me feel grimy, and inevitably I often returned home and headed straight for the shower.
“No, Aspen can’t do it,” my sister sneered at me. She annoyed me when she referred to herself in the third person. “I’ve got to wash my hair.”
“After you arrange the centerpieces and decorate for the party,” Mom reminded her. “Everyone’s got their job, Flora, and I need you to run to the store for me.”
Mom’s some kind of nature-loving hippy, which is why she named us after plants. My little brother’s name is Leaf, and he hates it as much as I detest my name.
But she’s brilliant, my mother. Her exploration of the Earth’s resources – plants, minerals, animals alike – has helped my dad create medical cures for just about anything. She’s a botanist, he’s a genetic scientist and doctor. Together they can fix anything.
I focused my attention back on Mom. “Really? Do you have to have it? I was just getting started on my advanced chemistry…”
“Yes, dear. I have to have it. Go get your human driver’s license. You can take my car if you want.”
I had been driving since I was nine, ever since my feet could reach the pedals. I told you we grow faster, didn’t I? Anyway, I’m a really good driver, and Mom offered her car as a bribe. (Don’t think for a moment that slipped by me.) I have my own Jeep, but her convertible is always fun to open up on a sunny day and cruise down the mountainside.
The weather was perfect, and if for no other reason than to get away from my older sister, I was thrilled to take her up on the bribe. Thrilled, except for one thing…
Humans.
Okay, so the next step in the book will be to introduce Flora to her future object of affection. Here’s where I want your help… Does Flora:
- Find him on the side of the road on her way to the city. He’s a hiker who has lost his way and needs a ride back to town. In a brief moment of pity, she takes him in and drives him home.
- Run into him at the grocery story. He’s a bagger, trying to earn enough money for a new car. She tries to rebuff his attention, yet can’t stop thinking about him after leaving the grocery. Or…
- You write in your own quirky idea!
Part Two
It came at me from, well, out of nowhere. I barely had time to hit my brakes before it bounced off my right fender and rolled into the ditch along the mountain slope. The car’s rear tires lost traction and skidded as the brakes squealed to a stop.
My heart was thumping out of my chest, and I felt the heat rise up the back of my neck as the panic hit me.
What was that blur? I stepped out of the car and walked back toward the area where I saw it disappear. Pulling over was instinctive. I thought I had just injured an animal, so was compelled to stop. If I could help it, I would.
As big as the animal was, it could have been a deer, but I thought I saw a large patch of black, so that can’t make sense… Where is it? Wait, I hear it, over there in the bushes.
I tiptoed over to where the noise was coming from and peered down.
Oh. Gross.
It’s a human.
Is he dead? No, he’s moving. What is that pathetic sound? Groaning, I guess. Flora, be nice. You just hit him with your car!
Oh, crap. Not my car – Mom’s. I hope he didn’t leave a dent. She’ll totally kill me.
Focus! What should I do? Can I sneak away? Nuts, he just saw me. Sigh.
“Help… Can you help me?” he pled.
Well, I guess I can’t get out of this now. I leaned down, trying not to get too close to the human. “Uh, are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. I didn’t see you…”
He struggled to sit up. His forearm was bloody from pavement burn. “No, it’s my fault. I heard your car and rushed out to get your attention.”
I looked around, trying to find others. “Are you out here alone?”
He looked up at me with eyes the color of new moss on the forest floor. “Well, I wasn’t, not at first. A bunch of us guys went out hiking this morning. After about an hour, the other three ditched me. Probably my brother’s way of punishing me for tagging along.”
“So he just left you out here?” I admit, I hate my sister, but we’d never do anything like this to each other. “How far are you from home?”
“Um, it’s hard to say. I’m not sure how far I wandered. Best guess – fifteen miles. I live in Observation Pointe.”
“That’s where I’m headed. Do you want a ride?”
What did I just do?! I can’t believe I just offered to drive him. Where is my brain? I can’t have a human in my car. He’ll totally stink up the leather!
He smiled at me, his pretty green eyes sparkling, and my stomach fluttered. Get a grip, Flora! Sheesh.
“That’d be awesome.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, yes ma’am. I’d really appreciate it.”
Ma’am? How old does he think I am? Well, at least he’s got some rudimentary manners. How old is he, I wonder…
“Can you get up?” Oh, I hope I don’t have to touch him. I’m sure he’s full of bacteria and viruses.
He rotated his left leg, as if he were testing it. “I’m not sure. My knee hurts.”
I looked down and sure enough, it was already swelling and pooling with purple color. “Can you bend it?”
He did, gingerly. “Yes, but not very well. Here, can you hold this? I’m going to see if I can stand on it.”
He handed me his backpack and I watched him push himself upright onto his good leg. Tenderly he put his left foot down, and rocked his weight onto it, then instantly shifted back to his right leg.
“Yeah, I don’t think I can walk on this.”
I threw his bag over my shoulder and begrudgingly made my way over to his left side, exhaling heavily. “Come on, I’ll help you. Let’s get you to the car.”
“Thanks. Really.” He smiled and threw his long arm over my shoulder to brace himself and we slowly hobbled to the passenger side.
I wrinkled my nose. He smelled of sweat, blood, dirt, and Polo – the cologne, which also smells like dirt. Honestly, I’ll never understand why humans choose to bathe themselves in raunchy scents like that.
“Nice car,” he said after lowering himself into the seat.
I shut the door for him and put his bag in the back seat. “Thanks. It’s my mom’s.”
“I’m Nick, by the way.”
“Flora.”
“Nice to meet you, Flora. And thanks again for the help. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”
“No problem.” That’s a lie. It totally was a problem, having this human sitting next to me. I should be completely repulsed, yet I kept finding myself glancing over at him, intrigued by him. He wore long cargo shorts, hiking boots and a long-sleeved t-shirt. “So where am I taking you? Do you have a car we need to pick up?”
“No,” he sighed. “I rode with my brother’s friend. I won’t get my license until winter. Can you take me to my dad’s work?”
So he’s fifteen, that’s settled. An older man, yet he thinks I’m the older one… Ironic, yet totally predictable. He has no idea who he’s sitting next to. Humans just don’t have the mental capacity to distinguish between our race and theirs. Strange.
“You don’t want me to take you home?”
“No. No one’s at the house, and I have a feeling I’ll need to have someone take a look at my knee. Dad can help.”
“Okay. Show me the way.”
So now tell me… Who is his father? Is he:
- A university professor with a PhD in Anthropology
- A high-ranking military or governmental official
- The owner of a local pub, a popular joint in Observation Pointe
- Or something else – give me your best idea!
