Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's always the spooky season,
full of chills, thrills, and spine tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are
family friendly frights for those ages eight and up, and while our stories are
for younger years, we are still talking about things that go bump in the
night, and some children may not be able to handle what others can.
Parental consent is recommended now for tonights micro Terror. Bigfoot Versus Mothman Versus My
Dad by Scott Donnelly. The drive was long, my legs were cramped,
and my stomach was rumbling. The sun had already set behind us when we
entered Appalachia, so I was confused as to why my dad hadn't stopped at
a diner for burgers or soup or something yet. I mean, I'd heard
his stomach rumbling too. Our guts seemed to be in sync with one another,
battling for which one could make the loudest, most sudden rumble. There
was definitely something humorous to it, But when it was all said and done,
I was just hungry. We were just hungry, Dad. Are we
ever going to stop for some grub? I asked him, I'm about to
start peeling the leather off these cabin seats and using them as tortillas to wrap
up some of this old gum that stuck underneath the dash. Ew do that,
son, my dad said, sorry, I'm hungry too. Now.
I'm just on a tight schedule with this shipment, and we're making great time.
I looked out the window. It was dark, and all I could
see were brief, highlighted portions of the woods that sandwiched the road we were
on. I hadn't seen a sign in a while, not since we crossed
a bridge about fifteen minutes earlier, and even then I was too focused on
my hunger to pay attention to what it said. Where are we, I
asked, West Virginia. My dad said, he checked a meter on the
brightly lit dash in front of him. We only have one hundred and eighty
miles to go until we reached the drop off point. My dad had been
driving eighteen wheelers since before I was born. I only traveled with him during
the summer months when school was out. He was a pro, so I
hated to question his authority and knowledge on the job, but when it came
to food, he seemed to really be dropping the ball, Dad, I'm
hungry. Can we please stop for dinner? I begged him. My dad
sighed and finally gave in Okay, fine, I've traveled this road before.
In about twenty miles or so, there's a small diner that has the best
BLTs known to man. We'll stop there for some soup and sandwiches, just
to mention the food made my stomach irrupt with noisy excitement. Satisfied, I
looked back out the window to mindlessly stare into the dark blur of passing forestry.
But something quickly caught my eye and the truck's side mirror. There was
a quick flash of red lights that came and went. At first I thought
it was another car behind us, but there were no other headlights on the
road. We were alone. Did you see that? I asked? See
what the red lights say in the mirror. My dad looked out his side
mirror and squinted, but didn't see anything. He shook his head, no,
Sun, I don't see anything, as he turned to face me to
reassure me that he didn't see anything and that my hunger had now just teamed
up with my eyes in a sick game of trickery. His face illuminated in
a bright red light. His eyes went wide, and he gasped. I
snapped my head back to face the window, but whatever was there, whatever
had emitted the red glow, was gone, and my dad slammed on the
truck's brakes. The entire eighteen wheeler jolted and thrust it forward, skidding along
the dark, winding road, and then took a couple of minutes for me
to snap out of my haze and realize I was hanging upside down in the
cabin of the truck. I looked over and saw my dad also hanging upside
down like a bat, still strapped into a seat belt. He was in
shock. Dad, Are you okay? I panicked. My dad looked over
at me in a daze. He nodded, and then when he saw that
I too, was okay. We need to get out of here, he
said. My dad carefully unlatched himself first, and then helped me out of
the cabin. Once we were on our feet, we stood back on the
road. Small pockets of flames on the truck provided enough light for us to
see the damage, and it was severe. The entire truck, cabin and
cargo was upside down. My dad took a deep breath and put his hands
on his hips. Ugh, how am I going to explain this? He
said. I noticed the back doors on the cargo had broken off, and
a large cage was halfway hanging out. I squinted and moved closer to it.
What were we transporting? I asked him. The closer I got to
the back of the truck, the more I realized it was an animal cage.
My dad joined my side. I don't know, he said. It
was a private, independent shipper. I'm not legally allowed to ask questions about
it. I accept the transport job, get paid, and make the delivery.
Up close with the metal cage, and in the flickering lights of the
flames, I saw brown tufts of matted hair that had been caught on some
of the bent and broken iron bars. Was it a bear? I asked?
My dad shrugged. Then out of nowhere, a loud shriek erupted from
the sky. My dad and I looked up. Something dark flew over us,
veiled by the night. Was that a bird? I asked? My
dad shook his head. That thing was too big to be a bird.
My dad trembled. He grabbed me by the arm. Come on, we
have to The shadowy beast from the sky swooped in again and landed in front
of us. At first I thought it was a man who had learned to
fly, But when it stood up from its landing stance, I saw how
tall it was. It stood over seven feet. It was covered in dark
feathers, and it extended two enormous wings out to it sides. Its eyes,
large, luminous and blood red, glowed on us as if we were
in the spotlight of a dark and twisted show. I'd seen enough monster documentaries
on TV to know what we were in the presence of. It was the
legendary Mothman. The creature waddled eerily toward us, emitting strange clicks and shrieks
as it did so. My dad held me tight, protecting me from the
monster. As the creature inched closer, a menace building within it, we
were hit with yet another sudden left turn. A howl, primal and chilling,
erupted from the woods behind us. Still in my dad's tight protective grip,
we spun around to see another monstrous sight, A second creature, just
as tall, covered from head to toe with shaggy brown hair, just like
the matted tufts i'd see on the broken cage. Lumbered out of the woods
and onto the road. Once again, my knowledge of legends and myths kicked
in, and I realized that my dad had been paid to secretly transport a
living, breathing Bigfoot halfway across the country. We stood there in the middle
of the road next to a flaming tractor trailer as Bigfoot and the Mothman closed
in on us from opposing sides. We were trapped, doomed in a way
reserved specifically for a fantastical fiction. But then something happened that neither my dad
nor I expected. When the Mothman realized Bigfoot was creeping up on the other
side, there must have been a territorial instinct that took over It shrieked and
took flight, lifting up and over us, and then dove down at the
hairy beast. Bigfoot looked up and roared. The Mothman collided with Bigfoot,
but he was too strong. He grabbed a hold of the winged creature with
both hands and tried to hold it still. The Mothman shrieked within Bigfoot's grasp
and then used its wings to pound on him from both sides. Bigfoot dropped
the Mothman and backed up. Mothman tried to take flight again, but the
hilly monster wasn't having any of it. He reached forward and grabbed a hold
of one of the Mothman's gangly legs and was lifted up into the air with
him. My dad and I stood back and watched in disbelief. I Bigfooted
and Mothman fighting in the sky, my dad asked, and they sure are,
I said. The Mothman was able to shake Bigfoot loose, and he
fell back down, smacking the road with a great deal of force. Mothman
then swooped down again and snapped its talons at Bigfoot, who was trying to
stand to his feet. Between the guttural roars and high pitched shrieks, my
dad and I were mesmerized and focused, so when the Mothman swooped in again
and one of its wings accidentally smacked my dad in the side of the head,
he was completely unprepared for. My Dad was flung backwards about twenty yards
and disappeared into the darkness of the woods. Dad, I screamed as I
desperately waited for him to emerge from the tree line, hoping he was okay.
The two legendary monsters continued to battle it out on the road behind me.
Then, in slow motion, highlighted by the pulsating flames, my dad
emerged from the woods. He materialized from the dark, brooding, enraged.
His eyes dipped, and he held a vengeful smirk on his face. I
hadn't seen him with a look of determination on that level since my uncle Don
said that he couldn't out eat him at the last family reunion. My Dad
stormed back onto the road. I moved out of his way. He rolled
up his sleeves and then jumped right into the monster brawl, landing his first
punch on the top of Mothman's head. My dad wasn't messing around. He
fought dirty. He pulled big Foot's hair. He punked Mothman's eyes until they
flickered out like flashlights losing battery power. He stopped on big Foot's feet and
plucked at Mothman's feathers. My dad heroically threw punch after punch bravely landed kick
after kick. When my dad woke up in the hospital the next morning.
I was right by his side. His eyes were swollen, his neck was
in a brace, several of his teeth were missing, and his lips had
to be surgically placed back on sun. He moaned from the hospital bed.
IHI are you there. I'm here, Dad, I said, placing my
hand on his bandaged arm. How are you feeling, I asked, I
can't feel my legs, he said. The doctors said, you'll get the
leg sensation back in a day or two. I said, I have a
bit of a head too. He added, you've ended up with fourteen concussions.
I told him. My dad forced a toothless smile. Did you like
how your old man took care of those two monsters? Still got it after
all of these years, he proudly winced. Yeah, I hesitantly said.
Actually, after you rolled up your sleeves and hit the mothman on the head,
it was all over. They pummeled you, Dad. Everything you told
the doctor when you came in here last night about the fight didn't happen.
Actually, they're claiming your injuries were from the crash. My dad, enraged
again, tried to sit up in bed. His machines started beeping loudly at
him. I tried to get him to sit back and relax. That's nonsense,
my dad exclaimed. They were there. You saw them, You saw
the fight I did. I said, that's why I called uncle Don.
I told him everything. He didn't like the way those creatures beat you,
senseless. He's already planning a revenge mission for when you're better. Don't worry,
Dad, you get a second go at these guys. A dad laid
back on his pillow and smiled another toothless grin. Then he winked, or
at least I thought he did, beneath all the swelling around his eyes.
He said, just wait until you see your old man in action again.
Son, I cringed, already knowing what a second round would look like for
him, and this hospital wasn't equipped to deal with that. Thank you for
listening to micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday for another scary story. For
more fun, visit our website at microterrors dot com, where we will also
have spooky games you can print out and play like wicked word searches, mysterious
mazes, and more. Microterrors dot com is also where you can find us
on your favorite social media and even send in your own scary story for us
to tell. Plus, you'll learn more about our author, Scott Donnelly,
who has other horrors for both young and old. I hope you'll join me
again soon for micro Terrors scary Stories for kids