The Journal of Daniel Brian

From the Journal


From the Journal of Daniel Brian O’Rogers, dated 22nd April, 2011.


Pukwudgienoun; creature, mythical. Known abilities: teleportation, transmutation, and (undetermined) sparse magic.



 


 


 


It is a creature of Native American lore (Wampanoag, precisely) that I turned my pursuits to upon this fresh endeavor. A strange being it is indeed; said to measure no taller than three feet, the stories talk of its grossly exaggerated human features, and paint with vivid horror the range of abilities it draws on, most bordering on the bizarre.


As with most specimens I have tracked, these, too, exist only as lore; nonetheless, I have yet to fail in uncovering a species. Like the Sasquatch of lore that I captured in the year of '04, among others before and after, I knew it was only a matter of time before I unearthed these creatures.


 


It was a vow I made upon embarking on this journey, and now, as I write, I glow with the pride of keeping that promise. To protect their habitat from man, I will not divulge this location until I can ascertain their safety. They too, are creatures of this world, and they have existed too long without the interference of man.


Such an intrusion now might prove catastrophic upon their fragile ecosystem, and as their discoverer, and, might I add, their esteemed guest, their well being is, to me, of paramount importance.


 


In recounting the circumstances that chanced upon my happy encounter, I would say it was after roughly three months of searching that I fell upon the trail I sought.


It had been quite the ordeal since the inception, and both myself and my young assistant, Arnold, were quite exhausted as we lay hidden in the undergrowth. It was, I say again, lucky chance that we had chosen such refuge at the time, or it may have even been my instincts, influencing my subconscious into making the decisions that had to be made.


 


Nevertheless, it was an hour or so we had lain in the brush when I perceived through my weariness, a group pass within reach of where we lay. A group of people, tiny people! In forests where Arnold and I were the first men to set foot in since these trees were but mere saplings!


For our first encounter with our quarry, as tempted as I was to run out and greet them, I stayed myself. It is fortunate that I did so, for it soon proved that the Pukwudgie did not take kindly to sudden loud interruptions; Arnold's cellular device began to ring at that opportune moment, a ludicrous tone that I did not want to believe was in any way related to the young man I worked with on a daily basis.


How he had cellular reception in the middle of this jungle was a question I was never able to ask him; once discovered, the creatures, six in number, espied our location with deft eyes and pulled us out of hiding with arms that belied their childlike size.


It is to be noted that the creatures seemed quite taken with the tone playing on Arnold's device; once they had grabbed it from his trembling hand, their collective interest seemed to be on it and it alone.


 


I do note it a shame that we were denied the opportunity of watching these fine fellows conduct themselves in their own habitat, without interference. The incident did, however, allow us to examine the creatures within a far closer proximity than the bush accommodated.


The leader, a manure covered individual with prominent crimson eyes, took to the device very much; indeed, it… or dare I say, ‘he’… went so far as to buff it against his genitals quite vigorously, much to Arnold’s ill-fated dismay.


 


It should also be marked when profiling these creatures that the Pukwudgie in general does not take kindly to having things grabbed from it's hand, and as a rule, it will respond violently. I will miss Arnold terribly, but alas, the poor boy’s fate was his own doing. I am afraid he paid his price. I mourn his loss, but I do as I know he would want me to... I press on in the quest of more knowledge in his name.


Once they had done the deed with him, they did indeed turn upon me to enact the same. However, by baring my hands and humbling myself before them, it would seem that I have earned their trust, insomuch that I am now privy to even the locality of their hidden village.


 


I now believe that my hosts are quite intelligent; even capable of conversation among themselves. It was with delight I observed the hollow rods at their belts; blow darts, tainted with the venom of the nefarious poison dart frog, rare in these parts yet lethal in their potency.


I have attempted conversation with the scarlet eyed chief, but thus far all my efforts has proven futile. I am confident, however, that a few days will be all I need to learn their ways. For now, these observations will have to suffice.


 


I write this as I lounge within the primitive yet spacious wooden room they have constructed on my behalf. With an ingenious system of ropes, it hovers high above ground; doubtless, they are arboreal and wish to protect their guest from the dangers below. It is an impressive sentiment, given their treatment of my former assistant. 


 


A large fire burns below, warming me against the chilling winds, and the populace dance and chant all around. I acknowledge their welcome, even though the box strains alarmingly, and the heat has grown rather oppressive. That they celebrate my arrival with such festivities warms me almost as much as the bars of my room do.


Haha, I jest. However, it is rather warm.


 


I close with a final thought; since I have arrived, I have yet to see them feed. With trepidation, I eagerly look forward to determining their dietary habits, among all else, in the days ahead.







The post The Journal of Daniel Brian appeared first on All About The Weaver.

 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on June 05, 2016 01:40
No comments have been added yet.