The Sas-Quest: The Journal of a Cryptid Hunter (Part 1)

Author’s Note

Documented here is a digital representation of a journal we found at a small antique shop in Downtown Bellingham. We were looking for props to use in one of our current projects. In the very back of the store, a book caught our attention. It had a sigil on it that looked familiar. It was similar to one we were thinking of adding to a speakeasy-themed online game. This one was a bit odd, though. Different but reminiscent of something normal; uncanny, really. Regardless, we just had to see what was inside. Little did we know, this book - or journal - would lead us through various methods and adventures of a real-life Cryptid hunter.

A few of the details have been modified or redacted; we’re still not sure of the validity of the text and we’d rather not share unsafe methods of exploring, or risk exposing real people, if they exist. For the purposes of keeping the anonymity of anyone involved, we’ll call the author “Storfod.”

Without further ado, let’s dive in.

The sigil found on the spine and cover of the journal

September 27th, 1996

It had been sometime since I’d visited Bellingham. The last trip had left a sour taste in my mouth. Both literally and figuratively, as I’d been hunting a Tree Octopus and wasn’t fully aware of what would drip down when I looked up through the evergreens. That story has been written, though. This one was just getting started.

This time, I was here for the big one; the Sasquatch. Or “Bigfoot” for its incredibly large feet and equally large prints left behind in the dense forests of the Pacific Northwest. This bipedal giant has been rumored to lurk nearby, but none of the stories held water. That is, until now. An old friend of mine, Claude, called me last week. I had been taking a vacation in British Columbia and it went to my answering machine. I only just got back in town when I finally listened to it yesterday. He was hysterical. Telling me I had to get to Bellingham immediately to find Bigfoot, at last. He was insistent but not in an excited way. No, it was more like, anxious. Scared. Terrified, almost.

Gossip like this had never worked on me. Many claim to have the Sasquatch in their backyard without much more proof than, “I could’ve sworn I saw it on my hike” and “my dog saw it, and told me it was there” and “my sister went on a date with it and apparently is a very good kisser.” Claude though, him I could trust. And it seemed urgent.

So, here I am. Finally taking the big step to find even bigger ones.

—-

Claude wasn’t at home when I got to his house in Fairhaven. Asking around, it sounded like he hadn’t been home in a while. This didn’t look good. A couple neighbors even confirmed my suspicion it was Cryptid-related. The woman across the street from Claude’s house told me that he left about a week ago equipped for some “tactical camping.” Her words, not mine.

Though, one detail did catch my attention. The neighbor told me that Claude had packed a firearm with him. I thought this strange because, while not technically illegal (except in BC and California), it’s generally frowned upon to injure a Cryptid. Claude knew this, so why was he prepared for battle?

—-

For the rest of the afternoon, I took the liberty of gathering some intel. The separation is in the preparation, after all. I’d done my own research beforehand on the Sasquatch (what Cryptid hunter would I be if I hadn’t?) but what I really needed was some firsthand accounts.

And so, I took to the town. Downtown had changed a little from the last time I was here. The newly elected mayor had only just gotten started with his vision for the place and there was an exciting air. I wasn’t here to talk about city structuring, though. I needed the dirt on the footprints in the mud that’d resurfaced after years of quiet on the Bigfoot front. Luckily, it was a Saturday. So that meant the market was open, giving me plenty of room for discovery.

My luck continued, because as soon as I approached the crowd, a boy walked up to me offering a homemade flier. “Have you heard about the Bigfoot sighting?” he asked me. I told him that I had and he lit up. “Thank goodness! Everyone else has been looking at me like I’m crazy.” He told me his name was Jake and that there were a few of them that knew the truth about the Sasquatch’s existence. They called themselves the Whatcom County Cryptid Information Society or “WCCIS” for short. “There’s a meeting on 12th street tomorrow afternoon. You should come.” I assured him I would, he handed me a flier, and continued gathering strange looks from the rest of the locals. I was nervous. Surely glad to have a lead, don’t get me wrong, but this job seemed more dangerous than Jake might be aware of. Claude was missing, after all. I didn’t want this kid involved, either.

The flier handed out at the market.

September 28th, 1996

I will spare you the details of my morning. It was long and tedious: I’d found Claude’s hidden key and figured he wouldn’t mind me using his place as a headquarters for the time being. I poured myself over research papers and accounts of Bigfoot sightings: both solid and flimsy. It turns out, there's quite a few people dedicated to finding this guy so it didn't take long before I was bogged down with information.

Regardless, I was interested to find out what that Cryptid Society had to say about the recent encounters. I made my way to 12th street having no idea whether or not these people knew what was really going on out there.

—--

As soon as I entered the doors, Jake greeted me. Apparently he wasn't sure if I'd come; the only others who agreed were part of this "WCCIS" group. So, I was the only outsider. Typical.

After a couple more showed, I met the rest of the crew. Jake was a graduate from the university in town. Biological anthropology, I think. Another of his friends - Manny - had graduated with a degree in economics. Manny and Jake seemed to be old friends. The last two were a couple: Winnie and Chip. Winnie introduced herself immediately and confidently while Chip came off a bit shyer. I could recognize their dynamic pretty instantly: Winnie = street smart, Chip = book smart.

Once everyone had met me, Jake addressed the group. "Ok, now that we've all met Storfod, we can talk about why we're all here."

"The Bigfoot rumors, right?" Winnie piped up. Right down to business. "I was wondering if they were true or not. Chip and I haven't seen anything."

"Right," Jake continued. "I personally haven't either. And, I don't think Manny has." Manny shook his head to confirm Jake's statement.

"Wait," I interrupted. "You guys are telling me none of you have accounts of this thing? Not a rustle in the bushes? Not even a measly footprint? What good are you? Screw it, I'm going to figure this out on my own." With that, I started to the exit. Looking back, I was probably a bit too harsh, but it was frustrating. Claude was missing and I was wasting precious time.

However, Jake stopped me. "Listen, I had a feeling this would happen. But, we have a plan to fix that."

"A plan?" I asked.

"Yeah," Manny answered. "We were thinking about going out on a real hunt. Tonight."

I knew it. I knew this "society" was getting themselves into things they weren't prepared for. "That's too dangerous," I butted in. "Believe me, this is way above your pay grade. Why don't you kids leave it to me? Leave it to the professionals."

"You're a professional Cryptid hunter?" Winnie asked with an eyebrow up. I probably shouldn't have let that out.

"So you can help us then, right?" Jake had enthusiasm, I'll give him that. Unfortunately, that enthusiasm can be deadly.

"Like I said, this stuff is dangerous. Just leave it alone."

"Excuse me, Storfod is it? We're going out there whether you're with us or not. So, what's it gonna be?" Winnie knew that would get me. I was right, she's smart.

Of course I had to agree. I couldn't let them go off on their own.

This was going to be a long night.

—--

One thing that must be understood about me is that I work alone. It's much easier to preserve the nature of Cryptids and get close data when you're on your own. It's also easier to keep myself safe and hidden without extra variables. Other people only add extra variables. It turns out, the Sasquatch isn't a people-person (people-creature?), either.

Bellingham granted us a miracle that night. There were no clouds in the sky, so the moon gave us enough light to go by. I made sure everyone else stayed silent as we made our way through the forest. We had to lug our equipment pretty far out away from the traffic and houses. A few hours into the our hike, I was almost ready to call it quits for the night and come back when I'm 4 people lighter.

Then, we heard it.

I'd heard some strange noises before (the Wendigo yell is seared into my brain), but this one felt almost human. It seemed annoyed. Frustrated and tired and… close. It was like it was coming from inside my own head, it was so close.

Everyone stopped immediately. Jake and Manny looked at each other, Winnie went into a fighting stance, and Chip looked as pale as the moon above us. He was looking in my direction. But, not at me. Past me.

I whipped around, ready to shout to retreat but, I didn't see anything. Then, we heard it again and when I looked back to the group, my blood went cold.

Chip was gone.

**This blog was written by someone paid by The Eureka Room and Cryptid Escapes. While intended to be entertaining, it also acts as promotional material. All contents in this piece are fictional. Thank you for reading and staying media literate. :)