2008

Frametown, WV

It was a snow day, so my friends and I met up to go sledding. There’s a really big hill down the road that’s part of a farm, and it’s the perfect place to go; you have to pass through this small section of forest to get to it from my house. I go this way pretty often by myself, so I’m used to the path and all the animals that live there.

Three of us were talking loudly and walking through the woods when we heard trees cracking, like something big was in them. We stopped talking and looked around; I can’t really describe it, but the air felt heavy and made me feel panicky. A small shadow passed over us, and I looked up; I saw this huge person, or creature, covered in long, dark black hair, jumping from treetop to treetop. It didn’t look like it had seen us. Then, it jumped onto the ground farther down the path before leaping off the cliff-edge and into the creek. It jumped a few more times on the ground before hopping back into the trees, swinging from the branches with its long arms.

We didn’t move or speak for a while, afraid it’d come back. After we were pretty sure, we went and looked where it landed and saw a weird footprint— it only had three long, big toes. We left pretty quickly and had my mom pick us up. I’m not sure what it was, but I’m really glad it didn’t see us because I don’t know what it would’ve done.

That same day, my dad saw something on his way home from work. Two shiny eyes were glowing on the side of the road; when he got closer, it leapt away, into the forest. He swore that it looked like a large, hairy man with a monkey-ish face, naked in the snow.

That wasn’t all, though. We had several more snowy days after we saw the thing. Our neighbor said they thought they saw something too, once, but only briefly. A dark figure jumping out of view. She also heard strange screams late one night when she was taking her dog outside. Both times it was snowing pretty hard. She noticed weird footprints around her house; they stopped by her window, the trail suddenly ending.

The worst part, though, was the next day she saw scratches on the side of her house, where the footprints ended. Scared, she made her brother bring his ladder and see if he saw anything on the roof, before the snow melted, or before more snow came. On the roof were more footprints, but that wasn’t all–about a foot away, it looked like the creature had hunkered down and peeled back one of the shingles, scratching at the material underneath, making a deep, clawed-out hole. We’re terrified that it is something dangerous. We’re afraid to go outside, especially when it's snowing.

- Hannah

There are some organisms that are bound to certain times of day, seasons, even months; at all other times, they are inactive, hibernating, or simply live short, brief lives.

Bigfeet are not widely known to hibernate like bears. Some reduce their activity, subsisting from their own stores of food, or stealing from others’ carefully gathered provisions or kills.

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The strangest bigfoot known to the BCWPA is a hybrid creature. It only wakes during the winter, ravenously eating all it can with its large, grubby hands and crooked teeth, watchful of anything around it with small, cold, black eyes.

While the details of this specimen are widely unknown to the public, its footprints are fairly common after decent snows in central West Virginia. Leaving behind strange, thick, three-toed footprints, they are often spotted crossing overall hiking trails, near human dwellings, and, most oddly, leaping from house roof to house roof.

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Before humans began settling North America, the Stonemen ruled the continent. Communities were spread out from coast to coast; often fighting amongst themselves, groups who were ousted were forced far from their homeland and into unsettled regions. These maladapted groups eventually found suitable homes and made new lives. They grew and changed and spread apart, many communities becoming distinct and distant from Stonemen in behavior and physique.

The Fairfeet, or Wintering Bigfoot, were born from a Stoneman departure: a small troop of unusually ill-mannered Stonemen was banished from their community during a bi-annual migration. Crossing the Midwest, they ventured all the way into the mountains, finally settling in the dense forests of the Appalachians—which happened to be heavily populated by several kinds of fae, but devoid of bigfoot kind. Stonemen had encountered fae creatures before, often viewing them as nuisances or with disinterest; frequently, the large beasts inadvertently killed them or hindered their activities, causing the fae to generally view them with anger and disgust. Holding onto anger from their forced relocation, these Stonemen were particularly destructive of the environment: overeating for pleasure, tearing down old trees, and heaving boulders through the woodlands in displays of strength. Looking to make a change, the nymphs studied the creatures and their habits.

When spring arrived, and the nymphs grew to their full power, they decided to cut down the number of Stonemen in the area to reduce their influence on the environment. Working together, they weaved spells and created a pile of seeds. Watching over and tending to them, by next winter’s end, the fae would have cultivated a new plant similar in appearance to parsley—one that was alluring and able to quickly sprout from still-thawing earth.

The nymphs called it Scaryroot. While it was perfectly safe for fae to consume, other life would find it violently toxic. Given a vibrant color, aromatic leaves, and eye-catching flowers, Scaryroot attacked animals’ nervous systems and caused several horrific ailments: slight conditions like nervousness and muscle twitches that gave way to excessive, frothing salivation, rapid breathing and heart rate, a dilation of the pupils, and noticeable tremors. As the toxin seeps through the body, violent convulsions and seizures occur, causing its victim to spend the last few moments of their life in excruciating pain as their muscles break down and die, or, spared this misfortune by way of a coma as they asphyxiate or their heart ceases to beat.

Though it was a great unkindness, the plant worked quickly and efficiently. It could also be easily culled and sent into dormancy, called when needed again.

Nymphs are creatures of the Kingdom of Neutrality. Keepers of land, they believe in balance, reason, and, that at times, harm can be more helpful, more good, than kindness. While nymphs, as most other plant-based fae, are a hive mind, they are not a monolith. Many of the nymphs disliked the plans for the invading Stonemen; some had even begun to grow fond of them.

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As winter neared its end, the sprouts exploded from the ground, bright green in an otherwise drab, muddy, and still icy land. It took only three days for the bigfeet to find them. The growing conditions, appearance, and sensory attributes of the Scaryroot were chosen very specifically. It was given flowers and leaves that were especially large and aromatic–perfect for hungry foragers. Observing that the Stonemen gathered edibles near rivers, streams, and ponds, the nymphs designed it to thrive along the water, even upon wintery banks. While the plants’ leaves and seed pods lose their toxicity as they mature, the roots do not. Unfortunately for vegetarians, the roots are the most appetizing portion - and they are the most toxic, and always are. One plant can fell the largest of plant eaters with only a bite. 

Unable to resist, once the Stonemen came across the new plant, they tasted it. The seed pods were slightly sweet and earthy, but the stems were stronger tasting and nutty! They picked and ate several of the plants in their entirety, unbelievably delectable to their palettes. Not even fifteen minutes into their meal, some of the Stonemen began to feel ill. Some died on the riverbank; others crawled back to their gatherings, dying along the way. Few survived more than 5 hours, the symptoms overtaking them and frightening those who weren’t part of the foraging group. 

Mostly satisfied with the results, the nymphs order faeries and sprites to pull the dead into the river’s swift current. The Nymphs removed most of the plants from the bank, leaving a few with hopes of taking a few more bigfeet down with them. With over two-thirds of their community eradicated, the bigfoot problem was solved–for now. The Nymphs believed it was worth expending their lives for. This balance should last a few generations, they thought as they withered into dust, a seed of new life each left behind, slowly sinking into the ground. 

Not all nymphs put their power into the Scaryroot. Twenty-seven, instead, kept their year of magic in savings for personal bewitchment, remaining dormant during the winter–Nymph’s season of greatest weakness, frailty. Digging up a Stoneman corpse, they began a different kind of spell. A magical soup of ground bone, fae herbs, and other plant matter mixed with rare dusts and oils. The concoction transformed these nymphs into Stonemen. A severe decision, they would be held within this form forever, with the exception of winter. They wanted to learn more about these creatures, learn to live with them, and maybe, teach them to live within the rules of the mountain.

In early spring, the nymphs met the bigfoot group in a blooming forest. After such a winter tragedy, they were hesitant to approach the strangers. There was something about them that was off. Something in the eyes. “Windows to the soul”, some say; transformed fae always have a hint of their true nature in or around the eye. Months of persistence and trust-building, the two groups eventually became friends. The Nymphs taught them how to find a variety of food, avoid dangers, and to live in the mountains. They showed them the little, nearly invisible creatures who controlled the seasons and how to respect, help them. Surprisingly, the bigfeet affected them too. They learned the joys of being part of a group, instead of organizing one; they learned to allow themselves to feel again, to experience spontaneity, want for themselves, to think thoughts. A grave restriction, the nymphs began to develop an identity of their own instead of maintaining a group identity. And, they began to have fun, losing their memories, core beliefs, former selves. By the end of the fall, it was hard to say if they remembered they were not truly bigfeet at all.

The nymphs’ shapeshifting magic lasted until the trees burned with the colors of fall and began to grow bare. They awoke pale, cold, and frightened, crawling into whatever dark crevice they could find, hiding in shame, disappointment. During their season of vulnerability, nymphs become invisible to all but fae eyes. Yet, they must still hide from their own kind, some of whom seek them out specifically to increase their own power and magic. Creatures of the Kingdom of Chaos, whereas neutral fae work towards a sort of enlightenment centered on nothingness, balance, and detachment, chaotic fae take delight in extremes, personal growth, and violence. And they are strongest in winter.

Due to their shapeshifting abilities, hybrids run rampant where fae live. There were, of course, several infantas born in the darkness of the Nymphs' hiding places. Unable to see their mothers, who were also too weak to care for them, they were snuck into the sleeping throng of bigfeet each night, one at a time, until no more were left. Confused and on edge after so many from their group disappeared once more, they hesitantly tended to the youths.

As the creatures grew, the bigfeet became more and more off-put. They began to look different from other bigfoot children, staring up at them with wide, blank eyes and wrinkled faces, pawing at them with three large, blocky fingers, and listening with long, pointed, twitchy ears. Then, they began to act differently. They ate dry, withered plants, gnawed on frozen bones, twigs, and rotting leaves, anything they could find on the forest floor. They never ran out of breath, gasping after a run, or even emotionally, when alarmed. They could unnaturally stretch their arms, flinging themselves from the trees. Most unnerving and frustrating, they didn’t sleep, instead spending their nights screaming and moaning.

When winter neared its end, the strange youths became quieter, inattentive. With the first buds of spring, they fell asleep as the group rose for the day, unable to be roused, woken. Believing them dead, they pushed debris over top of them–they would’ve liked that–and wandered away. The Nymphs, reenergized from their season of rest, sensed the sleeping babes and investigated. They were a new kind of fae; one somewhat similar to them, yet very different. These creatures were most powerful in the winter, forced to slumber afterward–all the way until the next winter. They were inadvertently helpful to Nymphs and other neutral fae, cleaning the region of decay, warding away other, dangerous winter fae, limiting their growth of power, and protecting those hiding, forced to rest. 

Digging them up, the Nymphs hid them in better places, safer crevices. Dangers are always present; fae and fae hunters seek to take advantage of the weak at any time. While these fae-Bigfeet were not wholly fae, this would not stop anyone from using them in recipes, spells, or from other creatures making them into a meal or caged animal. The Nymphs then rejoined their hairy friends, periodically returning to their offspring to leave gifts and food they would enjoy upon waking. Each year, the cycle would continue. Some of the bigfoot group would vanish. Then, strange babies would appear. They would seemingly pass away with the spring, and the lost members would return. Nymphs visited and protected the “Fairfoot,” named after the Fair Folk moniker. A tall, thin creature began appearing during the winter. Sometimes it would hide in the trees and watch the bigfeet. Most nights, they could be heard screaming, groaning, sometimes in a chorus.

While the Bigfoot Nymphs eventually grew old and passed away, their offspring carried on. Members who went missing didn’t reappear, and strange babies ceased to materialize, yet the bigfeet, too, carried on. The Fairfoot and Stonemen: two groups that sometimes curiously met in the winter, seeming to know they share something, but are quick to go their separate ways, live their separate lives.