Untitled Bigfoot Project Excerpt

Loggers Felled On Sawblade Lane!!

—————-Thursday, November 19th | Harrington Bogspekti—————-

When tragedy strikes, mercy is so rarely shown.

This past week on the morning following Friday – Friday the 13th, and how awfully fitting it was that such an event should fall on that day – two bodies were found at a campsite deep in the forest around Sawblade Lane, one covered in stab wounds, both with their heads bashed to bloody pulps. Authorities have identified the bodies as one “Old Jack,” a former resident (and practiced escapee) of the group homes/facilities for the uncriminally insane operating off of Sawblade Lane who have requested we do not print their name, and the other as one Sidney Blake, a Logger’s Pond native who recently published The Face of Fear, a brilliant breakout work of fiction that was sure to be the beginning of a long and successful career.

“He just wanted to go camping,” said Carl Markson, a close friend of Sidney’s. “That’s all he wanted, Harry. He wrote his book and he wanted to celebrate with a camping trip, what is so awful about that? You tell me what’s so awful about that, Harry!”

I’m afraid I can’t, Carl, for I can’t bring myself to understand it either. Sidney was a close friend of mine – in fact, I thought of him as a brother. Earlier in the fall he came to me in a time of need; someone had slashed the tires of his rustbucket and left him stranded in the parking lot of the Logger’s Pond Public Library, and he asked me to drive him home. I did him one better and paid to have his car towed, fixed, and delivered back to his house, because that’s the kind of relationship Sidney and I had. We were close like that, and he would have done the same for me, had he the financial ability, which he did not. He even gave me a copy of The Face of Fear on the night when he took that last walk into the woods, one of the few autographed copies of his book that exist, and I will cherish it forever.

“He was a good guy, Sidney,” said Tyler Burril, a former classmate of Sidney’s at Stewart O. Bashby High. “We never talked much in school, but he came into the deli and spoke to me with respect and dignity. A real down to Earth fellow, that Sidney Blake. I think I speak for all of Logger’s Pond when I say we will miss him dearly.”

Indeed we will, Tyler. Indeed we will. The Face of Fear is the story of Albey the Poet, a character based on a fantasy world Sidney Blake created and shared with friends Carl Markson and Keaton Quinn as children. On Amazon it is described as simply, “A novel about bigfoot,” but having read it from cover to cover in honor of the late Sidney Blake, I can tell you, Logger’s Pond, it is so much more than that. The Face of Fear is a journey, a novel of ideas, a brilliant and resonant story that stretches across ages, that tells the tale of a man who traveled a dead and barren land selflessly for one reason and one reason only: to purge fear from the hearts of those it infected. Truly a master work of science fiction; the Logger’s Pond Public Library will be selling copies just as soon as we get in touch with Sidney’s parents Ashley and Jeremy Blake… after they’ve been given a respectable amount of time to grieve. Or when they decide to get back to us, whichever comes first.

“I was out there with him…” said friend Keaton Quinn, the last one to see Sidney Blake alive. “We… we talked around the campfire all night… we hugged… I was so happy for him, so excited for his future… he lent me his car…if I just stayed out there, maybe… maybe he would still be alive…”

Maybe so, Keaton. Maybe so. But we’ll never know, unfortunately, because Sidney was left to die alone in the woods. How exactly it happened is still unclear – Old Jack, as I said above, has a history of escaping from his group home facility that shall go unnamed; in fact, earlier in the fall he made an advance on Sidney’s house, from what I understand, and Sidney himself came out and dispatched him. It seems as though Old Jack wanted some revenge; however, he bit off more than he could chew. Sidney’s body was found holding a bloody pocketknife tightly in his hand, and given the stab wounds across Old Jack’s body, it seems that Old Jack went hungry that final night of his life, sent to bed without a full supper of that coldest dish. What hasn’t been explained, of course, is the pulverized skulls of the two victims. Authorities have deduced the deed was done with a rock, a very large rock, one a single man may have trouble lifting… but none were found at the scene of the crime, nor was there a blood trail of any kind.

Yes, truly this is a tragedy, one shrouded in mystery and absent of all mercy and grace. Sidney had a girlfriend, one Victoria Moriarty who once worked as a librarian at the Logger’s Pond Public Library before sending in an email of resignation and not bothering to stay for the two weeks that is normally customary. The position is open, Loggers of Logger’s Pond; please get in touch with Harrington Bogspekti if you are interested in helping make our wonderful little community a better place for everybody. Aspiring college co-eds welcome!

Aside from the bodies there was a single shoe sitting in the firepit of the campsite, along with a tent filled with goodies and drug paraphernalia. It seems Sidney had plans of roasting some hotdogs, but he didn’t bring any buns. He just didn’t bring any buns, Loggers of Logger’s Pond. He just didn’t bring any buns.

The campsite has since been taped off and shut down by local police. Authorities are unsure of how long the site existed, but they are sure of one thing: no more are likely to be built after this terrible tragedy.

Both a wake and a funeral service were held for Sidney Blake, to my knowledge, but I was not given an invitation so I cannot provide details. Old Jack’s body was taken back to the group home facility, where he was buried beside the rest of their patients who passed away during treatment: in the sematary out back. I have been told there were many of these late patients, but the facility would not respond to my request for comment. They only demanded not to be mentioned by name, lest their lawyers get involved, so here I am, specifically not mentioning their name.

For the LogPond Gazette this has been Harrington Bogspekti, chief editor and occasional writer of journalism, keeping you in the loop. I hope you enjoy the rest of this issue, and I’ll see you all back next Thursday for yet another exciting edition of the LogPond Gazette, brought to you in full by me, Harrington Bogspekti. You can find me almost anytime at the Logger’s Pond Public Library, because that’s just how dedicated to you I am; feel free to get in touch! Let’s make our wonderful little community a better place for everybody!

And remember, as always: you stay choppin’, Logger’s Pond.

You stay choppin’. –H.B.

…                                     …                                    …

Had he lived, Sidney Blake would have spat on this, laughed, and burnt it in a firepit.

Had he lived.

“Fuck Harrington Bogspekti.”

Sidney “Albey” Blake

…                                     …                                    …

Bogspekti is Big Pockets without the C, if you didn’t catch that. Also, if this seems to you like it spoils the entire story of Untitled Bigfoot Project… well, you’re kind of right. It’s how the novel about a writer who writes a novel about bigfoot ends, but uh… it reveals nothing about the novel about bigfoot I snuck into the back (;

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