A Clean, Well Lighted Area

Bi

Monica glared at the front door to the library. She drove 60 miles here, for what? For some lead on a screwed up old man. She had heard about a fabled Mr. Cotrell from Collin, a lonely womanizer that sat across from her desk. He said it was some legend he heard about years ago, and since the site of the man himself was right in their backyard, their boss agreed to the pursuit. 

"Mon, it's our very own Squatch!" he said. 

Monica knew nothing about the guy, just that he never left some cabin in the woods with his daughters. She sighed and felt ugly. The whole story was ugly. She walked out into the baking heat and into the library. 

"Well hello there, how can I help you?" A loud, older woman exclaimed. She seemed happy to wait on someone that didn't appear to be a local. 

"I'm here for some local information. I'm a reporter for-"

"LON GET IN HERE! A REPORTER! IN OUR TOWN! LON!" she kept yelling. Monica did not think it was possible for her to have gotten louder, but anything can happen. 

A seemingly fragile, shy woman came out from the back and smiled. "Hi there, a reporter for what, Deb?" 

As soon as the loud woman opened her mouth, Monica decided to cut her off. "I'm here investigating a story. An old wives tale even, since the paper is in a bit of a rut and we need a good, gripping story. I came here because this is sort of the epicenter. I've come for," she sighed, "your 'Sasquatch'."

As soon as she finished, the fragile ones smile disappeared and her eyes got bigger. 

"I'm fraid that's up in Washington or some part. We got no Bigfoot here. Although, he could certainly survive no doubt. My son loves him, I think it's just plain stupid!" the loud one, Deb, kept on. The one named Lon turned into an office and shut the door. 

"No, uh, Deb is it? Not actually Bigfoot. A different kind of myth. The man by the name of Mr. Cotrell. Have you heard of him?" she could see Lon in the office through the tattered blinds. 

"I have not heard of him, dear, but I've got to go out and grab that lunch. Lon and I are gonna have a pizza. I think she'll hardly eat a slice, but I can't get enough of the stuff!" she laughed. "Don't let my husband know!" she cackled heinously again. As soon as she was out of sight, Monica made her way to the office and shoved the door open.

"Reporter or not, this is employees only!" L'anze said. Monica sat down across from her and adjusted herself into the chair. 

"I know you know something. Come on."

As much as she wanted Monica to leave, she wanted to tell someone everything she knew. All that independent research would be wasted otherwise. 

L'anze sighed. "Fine." She had seen the squatch. 

L'anze told her everything, about her background, the cancer, everything leading up to the trip into the woods. The figure she still remembered in great detail. "He was like... Cernunnos meets werewolf, you know? You can sort of tell it was human but, maybe it wasn't. I felt like I was destined for the loony bin as soon as I saw him, but now that you know about him, I-"

"So that's what he is?" Monica interrupted.

L'anze looked at her firmly. "Well, I'm not sure he's bigfoot, but it's something!"

"But then when would he have had children? Or did he give birth to the squirrels?" she asked. 

"Hold on. Who are you talking about?" L'anze was getting more and more confused.

"Mr. Cotrell is some hairy banshee?" 

L'anze's excitement withered away with her next breath. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Monica stood up. "Listen to me. I have driven 60 miles and suffered through that Deb woman. I'm not going anywhere. You tell me where to find him and I'll be on my way."