A Bedtime Story

This was written for a Flash Fiction contest on the Writer's Digest Community. The theme was Legends, the word was Basement. There was also a picture to choose from, and I picked an image of a rather large man standing in the doorway of some type of warehouse (there were crates and barrels stacked on either side). There was a 1,000 word limit, and this just barely squeezed into it.

“Did I e’er tell ye o’ the time I were swallered by a whayle?”

“Yes, Grandpa...many times,” Jacob responded, stifling a yawn.

“Ayuh, but I bet ye ne’er heard the tale o’ the time I were attacked by the grea’est shark of’em all!”

“Grandpa, I’ve heard all your sea tales.”

The old man sighed, and started to speak again, but the boy cut him off. “I’ve heard about the ghost pirates, too, Grandpa. And you don’t have to talk like that.”

“Ahem. Yes. Right. Well. There is one story I know I haven’t told you yet.” He studied Jacob as he said it, unable to keep a smile from forming on his face. “About a giant ape man. But I don’t think you’d be interested,” he added quickly, and turned as if to leave.

“Ape Man?” Jacob whispered; his eyes wide and lost in wonder. “Oh, tell me, tell me, grandpa! Please?”

“Are you sure? It may give ya nightmares.”

“Yes! Pretty please?”

“Oh, all right. If you insist.” Jacob’s grandfather paused for a moment as he recollected the tale. “Here goes...

“Legend has’t, Bigfoot were born in the basement o’ a warehouse in Easter’ Oregon. I know, cuz I been there m’self.”

“Grandpa.”

“Sorry... Now where was I? Ah, yes: It was a dark and stormy night.”

“Really?” Jacob said in a sardonic tone.

“Well, there was a light rain,” he defended. “And dusk was approaching rapidly. May I continue now?”

“Yes, please,” Jacob said, and followed it with another large yawn.

“We were hunting wildcats - your great-uncle Abel and I - which were known for terrorizing the small villages near Treasure Valley. We had made our way deep into the forests of the mountainous region when we heard the shrill cries.

“We took it, at first, as the distressful warning cries of the bobcat, and made our way toward the sound. We kept our guard up and our guns out, ready for the vicious feline to pounce on us from a tree limb or from behind the thick brush that surrounded us. But as we drew closer, we realized it was no bobcat, for it began to sound more like a squalling newborn babe.

“More than fifty miles from any town that we knew of, we followed the sounds until we came upon a large building. It was from that building the sound generated, for we could hear it muffled through the walls. We stopped short, not wanting to intrude on some savage mountain man and his family. And that babe, it just kept on a-squalling and screaming. And Abel, I remember he called out, ‘Hullo? Anyone in there in need of assistance?’ But no answer came to us, so we continued closer.

“The building there, it wasn’t anything fancy - four walls and a near-flat roof – must’a been constructed a while back. ‘Cuz it was leaning pretty good, and looked about to topple over with a strong gale. But, we sensed trouble, so we went on and gave the door a good loud knock (so as to be heard over the baby cryin’, you see).

Just then, the door whooshed open and out ran this great beast! Must’a been ten foot at least! And covered all in hair from head to foot. It looked us over quick and gave a real loud honking scream, then ran off deep into the mountains. We were so stupefied, Abel and me, that we didn’t get one shot off. But we just stood there, watchin’ it run, its arms swinging at its sides like pendulums, weaving around trees and bushes.

“And still the babe cried. It was a horrible sound, indeed. A noise straight from the devil itself. But Abel ‘n’ me, scared as we were, weren’t about to abandon a helpless child. So we went in ta have a look-see at what all the commotion was about.

“It was dark in that building there, on account of there being no windows. But Abel (he was always the smart one, you see), he always carried a lantern in his pack. So he quick got that out and lit it and shined it all about the room. A peculiar place was that we happened across. All lined up across the walls were boxes an’ crates an’ barrels and the sort; some piled straight to the ceiling, some not. But all were sealed up tight and most had milit’ry markings on ‘em: ‘U.S. Army’ and ‘Top Secret’ and such.

“Abel, he was always one to claim the milit’ry done conducted secret experiments on people, and so he had said, with eyes wide ‘n’ ablaze, ‘This must be one o’ them secret bunkers where they test weapons and drugs on them soldiers!’ And at once he led the way to the back, where there was a set of stairs goin’ below.

“And there the babe’s screamin’ was loudest. But we went down anyways, Abel shining that lamp of his to see the way. And there, at the bottom of them stairs, was a small room like a food pantry. And sure enough there were shelves linin’ the walls with all sorts o’ canned goods on ‘em. And right there in the center was a small cot. You wouldn’t believe what we seen on that there cot. Scariest sight in the world, Abel said to me after, and I agreed.”

The old man, entranced by his own story, was snapped suddenly out of his enchantment by the sound of snoring. He looked down at his grandson lying on the bed, sound asleep. He smiled, amused at the sight of it, and kissed him on the forehead. As he walked out of the room, being sure to turn out the light first, his thoughts returned again to the squalling baby in the abandoned warehouse, and he shuddered as his skin covered in goosebumps.