My Dinner With Sasquatch: How I Befriended a Very Hairy Family

As part of an ongoing series that started here, the following is a story submitted by a one of our readers at The Reality Register. The reader has attested that this tale is 100% true, as is everything we try to put forth on this site. Please enjoy this submission, I know we did!

Jacob Bartholomew

ASHFORD – As the sun dipped below the towering evergreens of rural Washington, I found myself standing in front of the quaint cabin I had recently purchased. It was a remote paradise, surrounded by lush woods and the promise of solitude. Little did I know that my new home would become the backdrop for an friendship that can only be described as extraordinary.

My early days in the cabin were filled with the peaceful sounds of nature, but a curious knocking sound that repeatedly echoed from the trees hinted at something more. Intrigued, I decided to investigate the mysterious presence lurking in the woods.

One evening, as the sun cast long shadows across the trees, I spotted them – a family of towering figures, covered in thick fur. They moved with a grace that defied their colossal size. Shyness radiated from their eyes as they observed me from a distance, but they didn’t try to hide themselves. It was a family of Sasquatch.

Determined to connect with my unexpected neighbors, I decided to try an unconventional approach – interpretive dance. My awkward attempts at communication, however, were met with bemused stares, and I realized that perhaps a different strategy was needed.

Turning to my culinary skills, I began leaving table scraps outside my cabin. To my delight, the Sasquatch family, who had been observing from afar, cautiously approached the offerings. This simple act of sharing food became our unspoken language, a bridge between two worlds.

As days turned into weeks, our interactions evolved. The Sasquatch would wait at a respectful distance for their nightly feast, their eyes conveying gratitude. I felt a growing bond with these gentle giants, and a sense of camaraderie blossomed.

Determined to express my appreciation, I decided to host a feast for my newfound friends. The scent of roasting meats and savory dishes filled the air, and I awaited the Sasquatch family’s arrival with both excitement and a touch of nervousness.

Under the moonlit canopy, a procession of sasquatch emerged from the shadows. They approached the makeshift dining area with caution, their eyes reflecting curiosity and trust. The feast unfolded as a shared celebration, a communion between man and Sasquatch.

Despite the jovial atmosphere, an unspoken boundary lingered. The Sasquatch refused to venture inside the cabin, maintaining a respectful distance. I respected their hesitancy, realizing that my guests valued the freedom of the open woods.

The feast became a tradition, drawing more sasquatch from the depths of the forest. Laughter echoed through the trees as we shared stories through gestures, wild leaps, and thrown bits of foods. The camaraderie forged in those moonlit gatherings transcended words, a testament to the power of understanding beyond language.

In the heart of rural Washington, my cabin became a haven not just for me but for the Sasquatch family I called friends. Our unlikely friendship taught me the beauty of connection, even when words fail us. As the seasons changed, I continued to share feasts with my Sasquatch companions, until one by one their numbers dwindled and I was left alone in the woods. I had a full belly and a full heart, as I laughed under a canopy of bones and the starlit sky, finally getting to enjoy the solitude I so desperately sought when I bought a cabin deep in the quiet woods.

Sam Howell, fan of The Reality Register

If you have a story you would like to submit for publication on our site, please email us at [email protected] and we’ll take a look at it. I do some editing to ensure it’s up to our standards and to make myself feel worthy of a paycheck, but I do not change anything pertinent to the story as a whole.