True Believer
Greetings after a long absence. I’ve been on what should be considered a maternity leave for an author. Since I work for myself it certainly wasn’t anything formal, but hey, it happened.
The last piece of flash fiction was Friday, June 19. We were surprised the following Monday with a decry for an early delivery and welcomed our second daughter into the world at exactly 36 weeks.
Mom and baby and Dad and toddler are all doing great. It just took us a while to find our legs as a family of four. In the meantime I managed to write a few more pieces of flash fiction and do some story mapping for the reader magnet, but the concept of doing a recording was a bit much.
But this week I sucked it up and gave it a shot!
This week’s flash fiction piece is meant all in good fun, but was inspired by the idea of cultural concept. I’ve always been interested in how a following of people come to believe something unbelievable so I wrote a piece meant to create a shadow of a doubt. It’s up to the reader to interpret things.
Without further delay, I give you this week’s piece:
True Believer
By Jill N Davies
“The footage you’re about to see is difficult to interpret. It was recovered in the southern range of the Gifford Pinchot National forest, approximately 60 miles north of the Oregon border. It was found along with the equipment in the search for Dr. Hartman and his nephew, Joseph Grosse. Neither the doctor nor his nephew were recovered.
Dr. Hartman was researching the psychology of cultural-concept. Joseph was making a documentary for his filmography dissertation. The two men departed on April 5th and were supposed to wrap up their interviews and return by the 23rd. The last reported contact was April 14th, when Joseph made a three-minute phone call to his fiancé at approximately 8 am.
The woman in the footage has been identified as Edna Fraskin. She’s a member of a cult following known as the BBRA, a fringe group whose members consider themselves both scientists and disciples. Since the footage was recovered Edna has not been located. The case is still open.”
The detective concludes his introduction, dims the lights and cues the footage.
The screen flickers with static before a crisp image of a Edna Fraskin against a forested background appears. Her braids are frayed and the loose strands of hair are matted. She wears several layers of clothing—a wool beanie, a worn scarf and a threadbare sweater. Her face is gaunt with dark circles set deep under ghostly eyes.
She blinks, as if adjusting to the light before smiling. The lines on her face deepen with the expression as she listens to a question that can’t be heard. Her chin dips down before she addresses the men behind the camera.
I’m here because he lets me be here. I can’t offer you any sort of protection. You’re here at your own risk. Are you ready for this?
The camera follows her to the edge of the woods. She breathes puffs of warm air into the frigid wilderness. As she walks, she continues her story.
I’ve been living with him on this side of the woods for about six years. He goes in deep when the winter comes. I just wait here for him to come back.
She looks back, behind the camera, scowling.
You dismiss me for believing, but I don’t just believe. Is it irrational to believe what my eyes have seen? I’ve been face to face with the beast and he spared me my life! That’s why I decided to give my life to him.
The off-camera person asks another inaudible question.
Most of us in the BBRA have faced him. It’s our sacred duty to pay him back for his gift—to spread the news of his benevolence. To protect him.
The camera continues to follow her into the dense woods. The overhead branches cast eerie shadows on the forest floor. Edna nearly disappears into the surroundings, swallowed by the wildness.
I don’t know if we’ll see him. I know that’s sort of the point of your video, but he don’t follow your rules. You’ll see him if he wants you to. But I can show you this.
She pushes aside several frayed branches with a thick walking stick and gestures to the camera to come closer. The image wobbles and zooms in on the tree. Deep scratches come into focus. Sap leaks from the wounds. The surrounding bark has been torn away. The markings are level with Edna’s forehead.
Most non-believers would say these here are from a bear. But a bear don’t tear into a tree like that. This is his mark.
She lets the camera take it in for another moment before pulling the men deeper into the wood, following a rough-cut but well-tread game trail. She veers left and begins scrambling up a steep embankment. The camera rocks as Joseph struggles to keep up with her. Clouds wobble and the camera settles on Dr. Hartman’s legs as he climbs after Edna—the first evidence of his presence.
At the top of the climb Edna pops upright again as if not phased.
This way, if we’re going to catch a glimpse.
The camera follows her toward a clearing. She points to her left.
Predator here.
The camera takes in pile of bones—something large, but unlike a deer or elk. A wild boar? They’re picked clean and split, the marrow cleaned out from within.
There are a lot of predators in these woods—bobcats, black bears, mountain lions…
She makes a swift turn, causing the camera to swing wide to keep her in the frame. Dr. Hartman invades the frame before disappearing behind the camera again. When the camera finds Edna again she’s standing on a flat-topped boulder and reaching up for the branch of a nearby tree. Something in the corner of the screen moves.
Off screen a branch snaps. Someone curses loudly.
The camera swings before pitching. Something enormous enters the frame in a blur before disappearing. The camera lands on the ground. Edna’s feet can be seen at the top of the frame, swaying against the tree. Distorted screams echo in the wilderness.
There’s a thud and a crunch before everything falls silent. A snort and heavy breathing can be heard in the distance.
Edna’s feet stop swaying suddenly. She screams. There’s a flurry of sound. Something snarls. The camera spirals from impact. When it settles the lens is split, splintering blades of glass into hundreds of distorted images.
The sun sinks low and the camera light flips on along with the low battery indicator. Edna moans.
After another ten minutes the screen goes dark.
The shadowed silhouette of the detective passes in front of the screen. He clears his throat.
“Obviously the precinct doesn’t believe that a bigfoot is responsible for the incidents in the video, however, don’t yet have an alternative explanation.”
He shifts uncomfortably in the silence.
“We’re looking for any insight you might be able to provide.”
The End
Don’t have time to read? It’s Okay, I’ll read it to you on IGTV!
If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com
Tune in next week for more Flash Fiction.
If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com.
Tune in next week for more flash fiction.
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