Conversations With Sasquatch, The Beginning

Conversations With Sasquatch, The Beginning– Episode 17

Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books® and booksmakebooms.comLeave a comment

CONVERSATIONS WITH SASQUATCH, THE BEGINNING

Episode 17 by Bigfoot Book Series Author Richard Rensberry

All previous episodes can be found at: ( https://www.conversationswithsasquatch.com/bigfoot-book-the-beginning.html )  

17.

     I breakfast on the remaining fruits left over from my trip.  I am excited about getting the electricity turned on and the well primed, everything up and running later in the day.  But first, I have time for a nostalgic trek into my newly inherited forest.  I can still recall some of the game trails and the trees in which I had built platforms and forts as a kid.  I had spent so much time in these wilds back then, I still know them better than the streets of nearby towns like Atlanta or Mio. 

     Are all my childhood friends still out and about, I wonder?  Were they figments of my imagination or real?  I am starting to get the idea from Cecil’s journals that they were equally as real as my adult life spent in San Francisco, for the simple reason those four decades lost in the city are now fading away and seeming more imaginary than my childhood.

     As I enter the cedars where the spring feed creek gurgles and giggles it way south toward the AuSable River, the autumn air is heavy and laden with dampness.  Dew droplets trickle down my arms and neck as I part the cedar bows and follow the wending stream.  ( Continued at:  https://www.conversationswithsasquatch.com/bigfoot-book-the-beginning.html )  

Conversations With Sasquatch, The Beginning Episode 2

Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books® and booksmakebooms.comLeave a comment

   

I immediately sense that a disembodied Cecil has been waiting for this day, excited and giddy to see me.  He has invited all his Sasquatch friends and a myriad of supernatural little people that he once introduced me to when I was a kid.  I am blasted by their ethereal scrutiny and eerie frequencies as I step out of the car to take inventory of my inheritance.  My whole body feels their eyes and begins to throb like a bee sting.  My forehead prickles with a cold sweat.

     I walk gingerly and take pause on the cobbled path, overwhelmed by nostalgia.  Several barn swallows shatter the spell as they suddenly dart from beneath the house’s eaves and swoop at me in angry defiance.  I have disturbed their peace.  They cackle and shriek, making an all out effort to drive me away.  I wave my arms at their bomb runs and duck under the sanctuary of the porch, there I turn and momentarily chuckle at their antics of persuasion.

     The porch boards have separated and have been rubbed raw, but easily take my weight without a moan.  There is a padlock on the door to which the court has granted me Cecil’s ownership key.  

     Inside, though a thick patina of dust has accumulated on the floors, the place looks mostly at peace and undisturbed.  There are patches of swallow and pigeon poop on some areas of the walls directly beneath their nests, but all in all, I feel a wave of gratitude that it has not been ransacked by transients or teenagers with a lust for breaking and entering.  I think its condition speaks (continued at https://www.conversationswithsasquatch.com/conversations-with-sasquatch-the-beginning.html )