"Conversations With Sasquatch", Book 1, The Encounter is now being published in paperback and will soon be available in our store. Chapters 1 and 2 of The Encounter are available below.
Now begins, Book 2, Cross Over. Each chapter of Cross Over is available here on Books Make Booms as I write them and will remain posted until Book 2 is completed. I believe Cross Over will stand alone, but Book 1 is recommended for the comprehension of how I have come to cross over and the Sasquatch people with whom I am interacting.
For your convenience there is a glossary included at the bottom of this page for new and unusual words or terms used in both books.
Shiri-adellie Ohara-green So i get up this morning and see a notification on my phone that the next part of conversions with sasquatch has been posted. Of course, in my excitement, i forget i was getting up for work, and dive headfirst into this next installment. What i read had me captured already, but then to read about ted kaczynski!?! My mind is blown, and i realize my eyes have literally widened with amazement... I have to find out more about this stunning revelation! Asi finished reading, i remembered why i had originally gotten out of bed, and in a panic, start scrambling to get ready for work. But then i remember today is Saturday, we open an hour later on the weekends. So I've got an extra hour to play with! Not even 9am, so between waking up to an amazing read, and an extra hour to enjoy before my work day begins, it has been a great start to the day! Thank you Richard Rensberry
Jo Bee Love it love it loveit! More please,❤I'm going to read from chapter one , as i've only read your last two chapters, as its an intriguing tale. And youve made me think im on the right track of sasquatch being more than just hairy and scary. I hope theres plenty more chapters to come on this sasquatch journey. Never stop beleiving!
Tammy Loomis Well, this is interesting...didn't expect to hear anything quite like this! Curious to learn more…?
Penelope Powers How utterly and wonderfully fascinating. Can’t wait to hear more and learn!!! Have fun! Wow
Robin Brou Antin Hi Richard FYI I’m in the flap-trapping healthcare provider. Category. And the reason I became so interested in this is because I heard a story told by a 40 something 20 years ago about his experience as a child in his grandparents property . He was all of 6 and fishing in a little backyard pond as he had done numerous times . He had a sandwich and 3 little fish at his side when a shadow casted over him . Thinking his grandpa snuck up behind him he turned around, dropped his pole and urinated on Himself as he saw a massive “thing” . He saw it looked at the fishes there at his feet and he instinctively threw his sandwich at him. The squatch leaned over grabbed the fishes and turned and walked away while we was stone still but when about 20 feet away the squatch turn back and threw back one of the three fish so he the little boy wasn’t left without anything ‘to eat ‘... wow compassion or something.. not sure what to call it .. sort of being not such as ass for stealing all your food .. but this story moved me to see the complex emotions that this animal must have . I was hooked ever since hearing this . Be safe out there
Lauren Elizabeth McCormick This is very well written, do you write books? I have trouble getting into stories, but I think I could reread this over and over. I always think that the Forest people need an ambassador to speak for them. It would be interesting to know what they know, since they are so ancient and connected to the earth. I can’t wait to read the rest of your story!
Keith Slack What kind of shrooms were you eating???
Linda Mecca Green Richard Rensbury your superb writing is so visual. I feel as though I can see, hear, taste what you are experiencing. Please continue to share your writing. Thanks for accepting my friend request. I have a few authors in my friends list so I appreciate your name being added to that list. Before I retired a few years ago, I worked in the PR office at a liberal arts college in Pennsylvania... that fact does not matter other than I recognize the marketing and writing value of what you do. Mostly, I just really enjoy your story telling about Big Foot! Reading your bio explains your way with words and how they paint a literal picture. It seems so real and from the heart, doesn't every author want to hear that? Thank you for sharing your writing/experiences on the various Big Foot pages. I'm ready for part 9! Take care.
Pearl Chappell OMGosh! I went to look and ended up reading to episode 10...just couldn’t stop! But now I’m interrupted and will return when I can. Sooo incredibly awesome!!!!
Shelley Sessions Fascinating.
Lavinia Leone Wow. Can't wait for more
Jerry Bigdog Campbell Awesome, thank you.
Tammy Loomis Awesome as always! Ty!
Paul Juhl Really enjoying. That goes to show not all are monsters. Like humans some are good honest people whom you enjoy talking and spending time with. Others you keep your distance from. Some humans act more animal than bigfoot. Anyway great read thank you again
John Ohse Awesome read!✌️
Loretta Roberts Beautiful, Thank you for sharing
Brian Jones We better not get 6 chapters into this and then get hit with, "Buy the Book to get the rest BS" lol , I'm just saying.
Ivy Smith Cool story!
Linda Pomranky I hope your story continues
Melissa Crump Love this!!! Please share more of your meeting!! Love to you!!
Sue McClelland Your ✍️ writing is so eloquent. Look forward to reading more
I have had to readjust my beliefs and rethink many an opinion since I met a Sasquatch while out hunting for morel mushrooms in Lewiston, Michigan. I had no idea that these mushrooms were high on their list of dietary delicacies. They prize and love them.
I would have been afraid and crapped my pants if it hadn’t been for the long outstretched arm that offered me a half eaten morel. There was nothing aggressive or hostile in this gesture. He effused a welcoming aura of curious friendliness.
I took the half-eaten morel and popped it into my mouth. As I shook my head affirmatively, I offered him my paper sack that contained about twenty morels and two or three beefsteaks I had gathered along a cedar ridge beside Big Creek.
It was then that I noticed the pure silence that had fallen over the forest. The crows look-out caws had vanished, the squirrels had shushed their chatter and rattle in the trees. Not even a bluejay or a mosquito was daring a peep.
I struggled to swallow the copper taste that had encroached to dry my mouth.
Sasquatch smiled. He had jaws filled with yellow teeth and eyes that twinkled with delight.
“Thank you,” he said, and jiggled his lips like a horse as it eats a sugar cube off your hand.
“You’re welcome,” I replied with another swallow.
“There’s a storm in the air,” Sasquatch offered with a gesture towards the sky, “the ozone is lifting my hairs.” He proceeded to run his hand a few inches above his chest where I could see the hairs stand up as if a magnet were being run over a cache of metal shavings. He abruptly slapped his chest and laughed. It sounded eerily like the shriek of an eagle guarding its kill.
The sky was clear, but I thought I could hear a distant rumble of thunder to the west. I couldn’t remember any rain being in the forecast. I had come dressed only in jeans, a polo shirt and sneakers.
“You humans are such frail creatures,” he said. “I remember when you were more like us, hunters and gatherers of the health and fruits of God.”
I really couldn’t tell if he was speaking to me verbally or telepathically. There was such a sense of otherworldliness. I had a hard time getting a grip on my racing thoughts and emotions. In the absence of abject fear, I felt a combination of elation and serenity. I guess it was what you’d call dumbstruck.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” he asked and popped a fresh mushroom into his mouth.
“I have never met a Sasquatch before,” I managed.
“Not many a human has,” he whispered conspiratorially. “You are the first in many thousands of years I have spoken to. You are the chosen one”
“I am honored,” I humbly croaked.
“I am not so sure you should be. You humans are blowing it. You are blind to the world of the Sasquatch. You have lost the memory and instinct of your body’s genes and the very essence of your immortal soul.”
A darkness crept stealthily over the ridge. Lightning flashed and a huge clap of thunder reverberated and rattled my teeth. I began to shiver uncontrollably as Sasquatch melted into the rain with a welcoming gesture for me to follow him there to wherever there was going to be.
Talking to a Sasquatch would probably qualify me as being a delusional schizophrenic or having some such mentally manufactured label from the Diagnostic Manual of Mental Disorders. Rest assured, I am more sane than the writers and creators of that psychiatric flap-trap. As Sasquatch said in our first conversation a little over a week ago, “humans are blind to the world of the Yeti.”
Exactly why I was chosen I haven’t got a clue. All I know is that today I have an appointment to meet with him once again near that auspicious cedar ridge that runs along the banks of Big Creek, in Lewiston, Michigan.
I do not take this meeting lightly. The fear that was inexplicably absent during our first encounter is in full force as I lock my Mazda and begin my traipse into the greening woods.
As always, I find myself getting unwound and relaxed by the sanctuary of the forest. There is a lush carpet of fresh moss, wintergreen and huckleberry as I begin to cut a trajectory toward the ridge where I had previously shared mushrooms with a being that claimed to be immortal. As I walk, I am suddenly struck with the notion that Sasquatch might like a bag of fresh wintergreen. I, myself, love to chew on the minty leaves, which are cool and relaxing. I kneel down, pluck a new sprout and pop it into my mouth. I then gather a few handfuls of the dark green fingers and slip them into the small Ace Hardware bag I always carry for gathering purposes. I succinctly remember Sasquatch telling me that humans had once been much more attuned to the gathering of the medicinal and nutritional gifts of nature. Is it possible my penchant for such was what had drawn this Big Foot to engage me?
I don’t know. There are doubts. I’m still feeling a bit dumbstruck and unbelieving. I have to work quite hard to suspend my recurring thoughts that Sasquatch was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination. Had I eaten (like some have suggested) the wrong mushroom by mistake? Was it possible I had simply hallucinated and manufactured my whole Sasquatch experience from the far reaches of a childhood memory?
Over the years, I must admit, I really hadn’t thought much about Sasquatch. I’ve had no particular reason to do so. I’m a busy person, both purposeful and happy. I think little of the past and focus on the present and the future.
As I continue my trek towards Big Creek, my childhood memory of Sasquatch floods back as if a dam has burst inside my head. I find myself emotionally present in the excitement of the time, the utter bug-eyed blinking and wiping of my eyes during those fateful moments I laid eyes on him bathing in the river near my fishing hole. I am overcome with a hot flash of perspiration. Adrenalin rushes and vibrates through my body as I re-experience running helter-skelter up the bank of the river to reach the deer camp where my father is playing poker and drinking whiskey with his pals.
I breathlessly arrive as Al Kaline* is stepping up to the plate with runners on first and third in the top of the ninth in a tight game against the Minnesota Twins. My dad and his pals are glued to the tinny squawk of a small transistor radio, intently listening as Ernie Harwell* sets the stage for the next pitch.
I shake my father’s arm violently to get his attention and shriek incoherently about the monster bathing in the river. My dad’s eyes blink rapidly as he slowly tries to bring me into focus. When he finally registers my presence, he frowns uncomprehendingly and remains as lethargic as a toad.
“Not now!” he grumbles.
I tug and push even harder, beseeching him to come and see the hairy man that looks bigger than a horse.
“Sorry guys,” he groans, “the young tyke is always dreaming up ghosts and things that go bump in the night.”
“No!” I exclaim, “He’s really there! He’s down by the river where the sunfish are!”
“Now son, go play. We’ll all be ready to leave in a few. Right now the Tiger’s are trying to beat the Twins. Let your dad finish his game.”
Forgotten and dismissed, I am overwhelmed by the force of his rejection and disbelief. Coming from my dad, it presses down hard on my young heart. He hadn’t even considered for a moment that what I had said I’d seen could possibly be true. I was just a kid with nothing better to do than make things up. And yes, I often did make things up, just not Sasquatch taking a bath in the river.
As I neared Big Creek I shook off the memory and began my gradual descent down the ridge toward our destined meeting spot. As I did so, the hackles on my neck suddenly stood straight up and goose flesh prickled down my arms and back. Once again, the woods fell eerily silent. All my senses snapped to the present and I reflexively reached for my absent Beretta which I had purposely left in the car.
The rest of the book is no longer posted here, but will soon be available in our book store.
Thank you for following and reading Book 1 of CONVERSATIONS WITH SASQUATCH. If you have made it this far, then you are a believer and willing to journey along into the parallel universe of Cross Over, Book 2. You have looked into the stone without time and know the future holds a promise of greater things for mankind.
It is a Sasquatch saying that all barriers and all freedoms are self-created and/or self-imposed.
It is on a generous diet of courage and wisdom that all great civilizations come to be. It is even on greater courage and wisdom that they are maintained and expanded upon through certainty and vigilance.
We are the true caretakers of own souls and the soul of the world on which we live and depend. Heaven is not a place you go, it is a place you create. The same can be said for Hell.
Loquius, Master at Arms for the Council of Elders
As I descend the switchback, I cannot help but think of Ted Kaczynski, now a kindred spirit of sorts in a bizarre and opaque way. If that lunatic could survive and win over the Sasquatch in Cross Over, then I shouldn’t have a whole hell of a lot to worry about.
Maybe I’m as crazy as he was, belting out “Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, off to work I go” at the top of my lungs in this foreign reality I know very little about.
Now that I have gotten their attention, I notice that I have caused them to lose control of their raft. It is drifting sideways because someone has dropped their line. One Sasquatch has at least temporarily forgotten his duties in order to gesticulate at the strange singing human descending down upon them.
In the confusion, there is at once a frantic tug of war with the raft and its crew as it tries to spin out of control. Then with all efforts by the Sasquatch refocused on the task, my descent is being ignored. I might just as well be a pesky horsefly buzzing out of reach. I just hope a ticked off bruiser doesn’t decide to turn and give me a good swat. I don’t think I’d be likely to survive.
As I set foot on the spit of sand, the raft is being stabilized with large wooded stakes already driven to loop the ropes. With some quick overhand knots by the Sasquatch, I am suddenly once again the focus of a dozen shocked faces. For some strange reason I get the sense they are more afraid of me than I am of them.
The force of their powerful presence all turned towards me has halted my forward progress. Time as come to a standstill. Though I am not exactly afraid, I am frozen. How long we have been staring at each other with just a few feet of sand between us, is difficult to discern. Probably only seconds, but it feels like forever. The first thing that comes to mind is the stone without time. Its presence in the palm of my hand registers as my only weapon. In what seems like slow motion, I pull it from my pocket and hold up for the Towering Sasquatch to see.
“Loquius,” I say, “Loquius.”
And yes, that is the honored password in Cross Over. Their gazes turn to each other as the name registers and subdues a major portion of their fears and confusion. There is a quick paced discussion of sorts before their attention returns to the strange little creature staring up at them.
Once again, I am overwhelmed by their size. I once saw a huge grizzly stand on his hind legs to impress me with his attributes, and as big as that grizzly was, I do not believe that he’d have the courage necessary to stand up to a Sasquatch. These guys are not just big, they are big foot construction worker enormous.
“Loquius,” I repeat, trying to keep any hint of uncertainty from my voice.
Again, there is an animate discussion with hands and arms gesticulating about. There seems to be a faction of discord from two or three of the crew. The look in their eyes and their postures suggest I would be in big foot trouble if not for the vote tally being in my favor.
One of the Sasquatch separates from the group and in three long strides is towering over me. I can smell the damp hair, it’s not unlike the smell of a dog after going for a swim, not repulsive, but also not an odor of freshness.
“Oooo-de-de-do?” I am sure he is asking me a question. Such a strange sounding language, kind of like RD-D2 in Star Wars.
I only have one answer. “Loquius?” I ask and just like with the Sasquatch boy, I raise my hand to my brow and pretend to look.
Big Boy turns back to the group and appears to get confirmation from the other’s yet bewildered looks. He raises his huge arm and points at the raft, then kneels and looks me in the face. With a finger as big around as my wrist, he draws a squiggly line in the sand. He points once more to the raft and moves his finger up the squiggly line to a point where he jabs his finger in the sand.
“Pariseema,” he says. “Loquius Pariseema.”
I am caught completely off guard when his big arm reaches out and encircles my waist. I am hefted into the air like a rag doll and carried to raft where I am handed up to another Sasquatch that deposits me on a bed of fresh kenaf.
With a flurry of motion, the crew is back to work and I am on a one way ticket to Pariseema.
Mary and I are also the authors of "Sasquatch" the children's book. Your support of our endeavors to create family oriented books with values is greatly appreciated and does not go without thanks. May the force be with you, now and always.
abhor*- regard with disgust or hate
abject*- experienced to the maximum degree
Al Kaline*- Detroit Tigers baseball power hitter that batted fourth in the lineup back in the 1960's and 70's. He had many homers during that era
Anishinaabe*- Native Americans, ancestors of the Chippewa
auras*- the electrical and emotional emanations surrounding a body
beefsteaks*- an edible mushroom similar to the morel but much larger and irregular of shape, reddish brown in color
Beretta*- a brand of handgun
brethren*- archaic plural of brother
cache*- a hidden collection or store of items of some type
chiha tanka*- Native American name for Sasquatch or Big Foot
crepuscule*- the hour of twilight
DNR*- Department of Natural Resources
egress*- action of going out or leaving
Ernie Harrell*- Radio announcer for the Detroit Tigers
Giigooh na*- Native American name for big fish
kenaf*- a variety of hibiscus plant valuable for its fibers and thousands of other useful properties
makwa*- Native American name for black bear
manifesto*- a public declaration of aim or intent
massasauga rattlesnake*- rattlesnake the north present in Michigan
Mida*- Native American name for a medicine man or sorcerer
mirthlessly*- without humor
morel mushrooms*- an edible fungi with a conical head and deeply pitted crevices
narcissism*- an excessive interest in or admiration of self, selfishness
Nawak'osis*- Native American name for marijuana
perchance*- by some chance
perusal*- a brief glance over
pippsissewa*- Native American name for wintergreen
ruminating*- chewing on
supermax*- federal prison for the most dangerous of criminals
tyke*- a small child
unequivocally*- in a way that leaves no doubt
usurp*- take illegally by force