Well guys, here's the final version of the story I was working on. A big thanks to Dira for all her wonderful advice and editing.

Big Bear is a wonderful winter vacation spot, located high in the mountains of North California. Thousands of people from the beaches come to get away from the bland winter weather in the south. But recently, reports have flooded the local papers of a mysterious creature, thought to be the legendary Bigfoot, attacking those who venture into the forest, and its image as a winter wonderland has been marred. This doesn’t scare one family, though, who still decide to go forth with their annual family vacation.

Doug and his family are out on a camping trip in snowy Big Bear. The birds are singing, the cold air is crisp, the sun is setting, the smell of pine fills the air. His Aunt Kathy is in a vicious snowball fight with his little cousin Abashai, his Mom and older cousins Heidi and Jodie are out on a hiking trip, and he and his Uncle Kirk are trying to make a fire.

“Why can’t I pick what we’re going to eat tonight? I’m a great chef,� Doug whined at Kirk while trying to figure out how to operate the lighter. “Yes, you are, but we can’t eat meat all the time, we need variety. And I really don’t want to feed my family the meat from an elk you just ‘came across dead on the road, apparently killed by a mountain lion’,� Kirk rebutted as Doug finally gets the lighter to light, singeing his fingertips. “Ow!,� he screams, and sucks on his hand for a while, while Kirk giggles. “What are you laughing at, you know I have no depth perception because of my lazy eye.�

“And I can’t believe I’m hearing this from someone who, according to his big sister, my mother, would eat a whole pot of meat for dinner. And that elk was perfectly fine, no maggots, no disease, perfectly fresh meat.� “I need to lower my cholesterol, and I absolutely refuse to eat carrion.� “Fine, eat your low-fat, no-taste hotdogs, I’m going to gather some wood so I can cook real food,� as Doug slings his 12 gauge semi-auto shotgun on his back and grabs a hatchet. “Watch out for Bigfoot, I’ve been hearing some strange sounds, and you’ve read the reports,� Kirk calls after him in all seriousness, to which Doug gives him a disgusted glance.

“Maybe those sounds are your stomach begging for some of this delicious elk. And besides, I'd be worried about that particularly aggressive cougar roaming these parts.� "I heard about that cat; it mauled a church leader at the waterfall a short drive away. In front of his troop." "Yeah, I was there, and it evaded a point blank shot from his gun. But I'm not suprised, it was a weak .45 ACP. And the bullet went on to graze my leg, ruining my trip as well. Idiot." "How's your leg doing?" "Pretty good; it's has full function, if not appearance. Good thing we've got .50 magnums, the strongest production handguns ever made,he says as they ogle their sidearms, a Desert Eagle for Kirk, and a S&W 500 for Doug. "Anyway, I'll be back before nightfall; hold the fort," Doug says as he walks off into the forest.

“Uncle Kirk just got appointed as the US Attorney for the Central District of Illinois. Against all odds, he led the investigation of and convicted a district judge who was being paid off by mafia to dismiss their RICO cases on bizarre technicalities. How on earth can he believe in such un-scientific nonsense?  Guess our dear Uncle Bruce has been filling their minds with his crackpot theories. Why anyone would put faith in a bunch of blurry videos is beyond me. Patterson and Gimlin, you’ve certainly derailed the minds of my friends and family. We used to have so much fun going up here to play in the snow, sled, maybe even ski. But now every trip becomes an episode of “Searching for Bigfoot.â€� I just want to be able to enjoy my vacations, and not be dragged along into searching for a black cat in a dark room that doesn’t exist.â€� Doug wonders as he decimates Sequoia pine branches with his hatchet, paying utter disregard to the warning signs. "And I wouldn't be too worried about that mountain lion," Doug thinks as he admires the silver bracelet on his left wrist, on it a gold cat’s claw holding a ruby, surrounded by diamond ice crystals.

“I bought this bracelet so many years ago. It immediately caught my eye while I was showing one of my grand champion Bengals. The guy who sold it to me told me it was meant for me. I thought he was just being a salesman with that comment, but later that week I found myself in the body of a mountain lion. I was nearly shot by Mom. I leapt on her to disarm her. She fought to get me off her, hitting me on my nose. I got knocked on my back; she picked up the gun, and was about to fire. I was mewing, horrified that my life would end like this. Luckily, she noticed the bracelet on my left paw, realized who I was, and started petting me. I remember Mom saying ‘Well, this puts your cat obsession into perspective. I always wondered if something was up when even the feral neighborhood cats would come up to you, and not scratch and bite you like they did to anyone else. Just use your gift wisely; we still love you.’ But they finagled my cat’s vet to prescribe them an etorphine dart gun to tranquilize me, just in case things went bad. How they got her to do that I will never know. We hoped no-one would end up shooting me while I explored the local woods.

Taking a simple walk became fraught with danger. This summer, I was following some church youth group hiking up to see a waterfall. Part of the trail was on a steep incline with a loose gravel path, and my depth perception makes that absolutely terrifying. Last time I was there, I slipped off, and landed in a thorn thicket. So this time, I decided to use my new found feline form. I leapt up onto the cliff and its firmer ground. After scrambling through the rugged terrain, I finally got to the waterfall, and was enjoying the spray and the view. The cooling mist was a welcome relief from the scorching sun and bone-dry air. The leader of the group I followed spotted me, and started screaming and yelling. I hissed at him to be quiet and stop making a scene. He threw a rock at my eye, fracturing my orbit.  I growled, and stood my ground. He fired his sidearm. My fear and instincts took over. I leapt up, and barely dodged the bullet, which grazed my left back leg.  I came down on him, claws extended, and tore his throat out. The blood spurting from his carotids drenched everything in sight. The kids ran off screaming.

Once I regained my composure, I realized what happened. I ran away, hoping animal control wouldn’t find me. My leg was burning and dripping blood. When the gravel portion of the path ended, I shifted back and limped the trail back to our site, shaking with fear. Mom asked me how I got the injuries. I cried and told her what happened. She comforted me as best as she could while closing and dressing my wound, but she told me I had to stay at camp for the rest of the trip. She didn’t want me or anyone else in danger, and she couldn't protect me if animal control found me while shifted to make hikes easier. My fun trip was essentially cut short at day 1, because some idiot youth leader wouldn’t simply back away…he didn’t have to attack me like that, he could have just ignored me. I had as much right to be there as they did. I just wanted to see that waterfall everyone talks about, and I never could before because I couldn’t take the trail…why am I never allowed to enjoy anything? And if animal control killed me, there'd be a huge celebration, and everyone would mourn that idiot who 'valiantly died protecting his campers'. No one would put flowers on my grave, if anyone even dug one. No one would even remember me as anything but a 'vicious killer'. And why would Mom not protect me? That's what she's supposed to do! She told me she loves me, but..., � Doug thinks, leaning against a tree, legs trembling. He removes his glasses to wipe his watering eyes. He licks the tears off the back of his hand, and gives a low, sad purr. He takes a swig from his hip flask.

“Thankfully, this trip is going much better, even if it wasn't exactly the way I'd like it, it's sure entertaining,� he says, perking up.�It was so much fun killing that elk during that nature walk in the morning, much more fun than having to put up with Mom saying ‘These may be the tracks of the Sasquatch,’ every time they found any large animal footprints, and detouring us to follow them to who knows where. If there’s one thing I detest more than them talking about cryptids with the same arrogant self-confident tone as my conference presentations, it’s going off on snipe hunts, which this walk was quickly becoming.

Luckily, my mood peaked when I spied the delicious-looking monarch bull elk midway through the walk. I licked my chops as I imagined the delicious aroma of grilling venison, and using its beautiful antlers as a hood ornament. So I slinked off from the main group, shifted into my majestic feline form of a mahogany-furred mountain lion, and stalked it through the woods. Me and the family pretty much took parallel paths, often coming quite close together. They kept checking behind themselves, aware that they were being followed by a mountain lion. I hope I didn’t scare them…too much, at least; I need to maintain my status as King of these parts, and every creature will fear me. After a few minutes, the elk darted through a clearing. It was fast, but I managed to overtake it, jump on its back, and tear through its C-spine with my teeth. All the stress I had about my immunology research project not being funded just melted away that moment. What I did to that elk I wanted to do to the PI for calling my research “impractical and stupid.�

I saw the family walking along an over pass-- I hope they took a picture! This time, I actually managed to get my teeth between the vertebrae, so I didn’t have to crunch through bone. It’s not like my teeth can’t handle it, it’s just that I don’t like having to pick out bone splinters from my tongue. I then picked up its carcass in my jaws, and carried it back to camp. Once again, I saw them walking a few hundred feet besides me. I bet Jodie enjoyed seeing that sight of a 200 lb cougar carrying a 1000 lb elk in its jaws – not dragging it, carrying it. Maybe she took a picture! Once I finally got back to camp, I dropped the elk on one of the back roads, shifted back, and went back to our site.

A few minutes later, I cooked up a story about needing to go to the convenience store to get some Coke. So I got my favorite drink, and when I came back, I called the guys over to show them what I “found�. They were revolted that I wanted to eat it. I did some very hard work to get that food for us, and now you’re just going to ignore it. You say you want contribution, yet when I do contribute something of value, you reject it. Well then it’s just more yummy meat for me,� Doug thinks as he walks back to camp, carrying several logs for the fire. He hears a low moaning sound, coming from deeper in the forest. He looks around, but seeing nothing, he carries on. "That was an odd sound I've never heard in my kingdom before...I'm not going to say anything about that sound, because that'll just fuel their crazy ideas about Bigfoot."

Nightfall came within a few hours. The fire was now roaring, melting snow around the perimeter of the pit, the pleasant smell of the burning Sequoia wood embalming throughout the camp. It was snowing hard, and everyone was around the pit trying to keep warm, save for Doug, who was still wearing his T-shirt and jeans, with only a motorcycle jacket to keep the snow off, currently carving up his kill’s thigh into steaks with gleeful abandon, blood splattering onto his face and glasses with every chop of his cleaver. He wipes it off with his hand, and licks the blood off, savoring it. This gets him several dirty looks. “Has anyone told you that you’re not normal; you look like Jeffrey Dahmer. And how on earth can you wear that in this freezing weather? And I don’t care how well you season those elk steaks, I’m still not eating it,� Kirk said. “Oh come on, it looks delicious, give it a try; I thought you loved game meat,� Doug’s Mom cajoled. “Yes, if I hunted it…I’m not eating carrion, especially not carrion that was found on the side of the road.�

A few minutes later, Doug finishes butchering and seasoning the steaks with spice mix, and pushes a few hotdogs off the fire pit’s griddle with a stick to place several juicy slabs of meat. “I guess I’m the only one here who’ll be eating the finest meat the mountains have to offer,� he says. “Why did you just push off our hotdogs into the fire,� Jodie asks. “Because I am apparently the only one here who knows good food, and convenience store hotdogs are an affront to me.� “Road kill prepared by Emeril is still road kill.� “But being prepared by Emeril ennobles the meat, and his output cannot be questioned.� “You really need a Food Network show; I’m sure it’d be quite popular with truckers and hitchhikers. Anyway, look at the photos I shot while on our nature walk,� Jodie says as she produces her DSLR from her backpack, opens her file, and passes the camera around. “I took a really cool photo of this tom mountain lion killing an elk, look at its mahogany fur glistening in the light!� Doug smiles, thinking “I really do look impressive, don’t I?� “Odd…that elk looks just like the one Doug found…,� Kirk said while examining the photo. A low, deep moan rumbles through the site, louder than it was before. “Maybe we’ll see Bigfoot mommy,� Abashai squeels. “If we do, I’ll give it Hell for trespassing in my domain,� Doug thinks.

Later on, Heidi and Jodie are roasting marshmallows over the fire while the rest of Doug’s steaks are grilling, and Kathy is chasing after Abashai who got a hold of the elk’s antlers and smashing them against a tree. The smell of meat fills the air. “Eat like a human being; you’re not an animal! Use your utensils,� Doug’s Mom admonishing him for eating his steak by picking it up with his hand and tearing into it like a dog. The meat was so rare that blood and melted fat were dripping from his mouth. “And even if you are a werecat, it still doesn’t excuse you from being presentable,� she whispered into his ear. “I’m twenty-two, don’t tell me how to eat! And why am I the only one enjoying this, it’s so good.� “Well, maybe you could feed the rest to your pet cougar,� Kirk interjects. “You know I don’t have the freezer space, and this is too much for even me and Chloe!� “Why on earth do you keep a cougar as a pet? You weren’t satisfied with regular kitties anymore,� Jodie says. “Mountain lions are some of the most majestic and beautiful cats on this planet. Chloe is so sweet, she cuddles with me at bedtime, greets me with kisses every morning, she loves to go on walks through the mountains, and she’s a great guard.� “I don’t think anyone is going to invade the home of someone who keeps a mountain lion,� Kirk says.

Suddenly, a massive, hairy ape-man crashes through the forest into the site, hollering and throwing rocks. “It’s Bigfoot! This is the day we’ve all been waiting for,â€� Doug’s Mom yells as she and the rest get behind a boulder to save themselves from the attack. “I’ll go get the rangers, catch,â€� Doug runs off into the woods, throwing his shotgun and sidearm to the group, dodging rock throws.  Doug’s Mom catches the shotgun, Kathy catches his revolver, and Kirk draws his semi-auto. They take aim at Bigfoot and fire. Bigfoot is hit, but unfazed. They fire again, and Bigfoot is routed back through the forest. Jodie quickly snaps a few pictures. “Why did he have to cook all that meat? Look what the smell attracted!â€� “But now we have conclusive evidence Bigfoot exists,â€� Doug’s Mom says.

As Doug runs through the icy woods, his eyes turn yellow, and his nails become claws. The ruby on his bracelet glows. He discards his glasses, since his vision is now as sharp as his claws, even in the barely lit forest. He scrambles across creeks and boulders, trying to get Bigfoot as far away from the site as possible. He hears Bigfoot closing in on him, and he quickly spins around, his eyes glowing briefly. The snow turns to hail mixed with freezing rain, and the winds howl. The glaze ice and bullet-sized hail wreak havoc on the vegetation. A plane is heard falling from the sky somewhere as its deicing system quickly overloads. The weather station issues a blizzard warning. A falling power line shuts down the lights and area cell phone towers.

Bigfoot struggles against the wind to advance, and hurls a large boulder. Doug pays no attention to the storm and stands his ground, his hair and clothes blowing in the wind. “Invading my territory is one thing, but attacking my family and stealing my food is quite another. Now face the terror that is a Stormwalker!� Doug leaps 20' into the air, over the flying boulder. The ruby on his bracelet glows fiercely. Mid-leap, he fully shifts into an 8.5’ tall were-mountain lion, a head taller than Bigfoot, the shift ripping tears in his jacket, shirt, jeans and boots, his hair becoming long tresses trailing to his shoulders like a mane. His new form looks quite feral and terrifying, but also lithe and graceful, a sharp contrast to Bigfoot’s utilitarian frame. He bares his razor-sharp teeth and gives a loud hiss that resounds throughout the woods. He extends his claws, and comes down on Bigfoot's face, ripping apart one of its eyes. The impact sends Bigfoot reeling. Bigfoot screams in terror and runs back the way it came, the hail cutting it and the glaze ice forming on its limbs and the winds slowing it down somewhat, occasionally slipping on the ice. “This is going to be as easy as the Russians staving off the Nazis; Chewbacca can’t even maintain traction,� Doug observes as he ties his hunting knife to the end of his tail, and gives chase, snarling, hissing, and spitting, slashing through branches with his ice pick like claws.

The group is hiding behind the safety of the boulder, occasionally peeking over, in case Bigfoot returns. The wind chill is so great that icicles are forming in their hair and on their clothes, nicked by the hail. Tree branches are collapsing under the glaze ice, hail, and gale-force winds. Suddenly, Bigfoot runs through the site, fleeing in terror from the angry werecat in hot pursuit. Every one of Doug's attacks knocks Bigfoot off balance, while Doug easily evades Bigfoot's counter-strikes. Blood drips from its wounds, freezing as soon as it hits the air. The group raises their weapons and fire at Bigfoot. Angered by this, Bigfoot roars, picks up the massive boulder they’re hiding behind, and is about to smash them with it. “You’re not getting them this time, Wookie,� Doug thinks as he leaps onto Bigfoot’s back, digging his claws in, making Bigfoot scream in agony. “Let’s get outta here!� Jodie screams. “Where do we run?! The visibility is zero! And my smartphone’s GPS won’t work,� Heidi says. “Just run somewhere, anywhere,� Doug’s Mom says.

As they’re running away, Doug’s Mom fires the shotgun behind her, shattering his dominant shoulder into a million pieces, some of which are exposed to the frigid air. The blast knocks Doug off Bigfoot and to the ground. He grabs his shoulder, and screams in pain as he tries to push himself off the ground to stand back up, falling again. “What on earth would possess you to fire in these conditions? Do you want Bigfoot to eat you just for the chance at a few more photos? Or did you really think a mere shotgun can defeat a Bigfoot? At least the wound will regenerate quickly,â€� Doug laments in his mind, frustration and fear filling his mind as he braces for what Bigfoot could do to him due to his chance at curb-stomping it being harshly taken away by his mother’s rash actions.  “I’m so sorry…the scope was frozen over, and I was aiming for Bigfoot. Here’s to you recovering fast,â€� Doug’s Mom thinks as she runs away with the rest of the group.

Bigfoot stomps over, and kicks him in the chest, cracking his ribs, then lifts him up by his cat canine necklace, strangling him. Doug starts coughing up pink froth, but manages to overcome the pain to slash at its abdomen with the claws on his feet and his tail blade. Bigfoot screams and drops him back down; Doug’s lower back, pelvis, and tail shatter upon the impact, eliciting another scream, both from the cracking of the bones and the herniation of the discs into his spinal canal. Blood from smashed kidneys soaks his jeans. “If Mom didn’t shoot me, I could’ve been putting this caveman in formalin right now. Why on earth would she fire a gun in a total whiteout,� he thinks. After a terrifying 5 minutes on the ground, dizzy from the internal bleeding, paralyzed with burning pain running up and down his back and legs, being soaked by the freezing rain and pelted by the hail, his injuries heal. He gets up, fire in his eyes, and slowly marches over to Bigfoot, tearing off the accumulated glaze ice. Bigfoot is severely, weakened by its injuries, the weight of the glaze ice on it, and the sub-zero temperatures. Meanwhile, the family is watching the battle from a safe distance, through the range-finding scope on his hunting revolver. “Where did that werecat come from? They’re not supposed to exist,� Kathy asks. “You know how Doug has always had a cat obsession,� Doug’s Mom says. “So he’s the…,� Kirk asks. “Yes.� “So our nephew is a semi-immortal mythical creature that makes a Bigfoot look common and weak?� “Anyway, he needs to finish Bigfoot off now, or he’s going to die,� Doug’s Mom says. “What do you mean, his injuries healed completely,� Kirk said. “Look closely at the right side of his chest it’s not expanding fully and his neck veins are distended. When he got kicked by Bigfoot, a rib fracture must’ve punctured his lung.� “So? If he can heal from a shotgun blast to the shoulder in five minutes, this should be nothing.� “It doesn’t matter if the lung wound healed, there’s still air trapped in his chest, crushing his pulmonary artery.�

“Now, you will die, Chewbacca� Doug said in his low, raspy, hissy voice, his breathing labored, while walking over to Bigfoot, ripping off more glaze ice. Bigfoot attempts to throw a punch. Doug catches its fist, digs his claws into its wrist, and sharply pulls back, severing its hand. Then he pins Bigfoot to a boulder with one of his arms, and bites through its neck, crushing its vertebrae and severing its spinal cord. Bigfoot slumps to the floor. “Yes! He won!,� the group cheers from their hiding spot. Exhausted from the battle and fighting to breathe, its blood dripping and freezing on his fangs and shirt, he collapses to the ground and reverts back to human form. The storm clears.

The next morning, Doug wakes up in the trailer. He looks quite worried. “They found out what I am…I hope they don’t disown me and run me out of town,� he thinks as he pours a Coke and timidly walks outside to the campsite, where breakfast is cooking. “Our hero has awoken from his slumber,� Jodie yells out. “Wait…how you knew I was the werecat,� Doug asks. “Your Mom told us,� Kirk says. “So you’re not scared of me,� Doug asks. “Of course not, we know you’d never hurt us on purpose, and I know your attack on that hiker last summer was a desperate attempt at self-defense,� Doug’s Mom says. “So, are we going to have the elk steaks for lunch? They’re flash-frozen now, so there’s no danger of them spoiling.� “I really appreciate all the hard work you put into taking down that elk, but I’m still not eating it. Also, you do realize this is a national park, correct,� Kirk says. “Yeah…what are you getting at?� “Well, I could indict you for illegal taking of game.� “As if attempting to file those charges wouldn’t get you disbarred or put in the loony bin; you really think any grand jury is going to believe ‘The defendant shape-shifted into the form of a mountain lion, and took the elk, so therefore the United States would like to indict him for taking game without valid tags’?� “I’ve indicted a ham sandwich before for giving me an upset stomach, so I can certainly indict you.� “I’m sure the food court at the mall lived up to its name. Did you also get an arrest warrant for its co-conspirators in your fridge? And how did the SWAT raid on the pantry go,� Doug says as everyone, save for Kirk, convulses with laughter.

Enjoy!

Last edited by Protoman2050 (2011-07-22 22:35:19)