Hearthway Hollow

The Three Bears

Female Reader x Male Monsters

Ever since I was little, animals have always hated me. I'm not sure if it's something I do, or a smell I give off, but animals can't stand me. Particularly wild animals, it seems. Dogs tolerate me, cats are fine, hamsters ignore me - but if there are birds or racoons around, they just don't like me.

Growing up, I lived in a pretty rural area, so wild animals were normal. I can count on both hands the number of times I had squirrels chase me. There was also that one time an opossum got into my room somehow, and would hiss at me from the top of my wardrobe. It's part of why I went to a college in the city - fewer animals around. I ended up staying there as I grew up, moving deeper and deeper until there was no nature around me whatsoever.

I started seeing a guy who didn't quite believe my tales of harrowing animal attacks. He would bring stuffed animals over to my place and hide them, so I would scream when I found them. He took me on a surprise date once that ended up being to the zoo, and while I tried to go along with it, I panicked when a gorilla charged towards me and banged on the plexiglass wall. I ran screaming then, which only fueled my boyfriend's taunting.

It wasn't too bad, though. If you can't laugh at yourself then you're just an asshole. I went along with his jokes, hoping that if I acted like they didn't bother me, he would give up and move on to making fun of my love for cheesy romance novels. But no, the animal thing seemed to be the one thing he clung to.

Our anniversary is coming up, and he says he wants to plan a trip for us. I'm hesitant at first, considering the last time I let him surprise me with a date, I almost got eaten by King Kong. He seems so excited, though, like he has something really remarkable up his sleeve, so I relent and let him plan the whole trip. When the time comes, he packs my suitcase to keep everything a surprise. I have no idea if where we are going is hot or cold.

During the drive, I start to get a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Perhaps I made a mistake in letting my boyfriend choose our trip. I start playing on my phone, going down a Wikipedia rabbit hole to keep my mind off things.

I eventually check up on my favorite website, which I enjoy for the crazy conspiracy theories and cryptid tales it provides. I can't tell if the website is an intensive study of fantastical fantasy writing, or just some whack job with a journalistic flair only few could dream of. It became such a favorite of me and my friends during college that all of us still talk about it in group chats to this day.

There is a new cryptid report about a werewolf community, and even sightings of a supposed demon circus. But the one that catches my eye is about a hunter who came across these giant boogeymen in the forest. There are the obligatory blurry photographs, which either look like bears or sheets fluttering in the wind. Whatever they are, the story is fascinating, as the hunter talks about being injured and trying to hobble to safety while being chased by two or more of these creatures.

My boyfriend glances over, chuckling when he sees what I'm doing. "You really still visit that crazy website? You know the guy who runs that has to be on meth or something, right?"

"I'd like to see you get on meth and try to write anything." I turn off my phone's screen and look askance him. "It's just fun to read. Am I hurting you?"

He smirks and looks back at the road. "No. I just think it's ridiculous you believe in any of that shit."

"Who said I believe in Bigfoot and Chupacabras? I just like them, that's all. Cryptids and monsters are fascinating. Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it isn't good for someone else." This is not a new argument. In fact, it's such an old argument, it could retire and move into assisted living.