The Great Roaring

Winston climbed up the country road, braving the blizzard as he clutched his walking stick with a death grip. His gloved hands were numb. His lips were cracked dry. His feet stung. He had walked for nearly two hours, getting back home from the meat packing factory at Whitburg. Even if buses ran through this dump, aptly named Brink Village, he couldn’t afford it.

They certainly cut to the quick, making him work the day after Hornhallow. Then again, Hornhallow was hardly a festive time for him, and yesterday was no exception. His family – two alcoholic parents and five siblings, all adults, all assholes – had no presents to go around. They all stayed by the fireplace, exchanging stories or trading insults, mostly insults. And the one time they tried to come together to play a game, it ended in an argument where Dad flipped the chess table and stormed out of the house while Mom punched a hole in the toilet.

At least the roasted goat was nice this time around.

Winston spat on the snow. Every inch of Brink Village was caked with the stuff, from the shingled roofs of the cottages to the now desolate farmlands that once bore tomatoes in the summer. This did not deter the locals, such as himself or the other humans and monsters alike that lived here, from walking in the cold.

Winston stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a distant scream, like a cat’s caterwaul. His blood froze. He always heard it around this time outside Brink Village, even in his house, to the point that he usually had to half-smother himself with a pillow to drown it out. His folks always dismissed it as the cries of a very pissed off fox. But what fox could make such a noise from far away? He needed to hurry home before he found out what it came from.

As Winston climbed up one of the peaks of the winding roads, a figure in the distance came into view. A human, perhaps? It was hard to tell since their head was buried in a well worn map. But once Winston reached the apex and stopped to catch his breath, the figure put the map down.

Turns out the figure was a bigfoot, one that wore a suit and formal black loafers, no less. The bigfoot looked down and wrinkled his nose at Winston.

“Can I help?” he said. Definitely city folk, judging from the New Yorkie accent.

“Nah, just curious, is all. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“My mom – I’m meeting her for the holidays.” He sighed. “As you can see, I’m hopelessly lost.”

“Seems like you’ve lost the time too – Hornhallow was yesterday.”

“I don’t celebrate Hornhallow, thank you, but I digress. I was supposed to drive here, but I took the wrong turn, I crashed my car swerving on the ice and I had to make the rest by bus while it gets fixed. And the buses don’t even run here.” The bigfoot scoffed. “So I’m feeling just freaking dandy right now.”

“I bet.” To be frank, Winston didn’t have much sympathy for this car-driving fellow, but he didn’t want to leave him in the dust either. “Say, what’s your name?”

“Puck.”

“Well, Puck, where’s your momma’s place?”

“If you can point me in the right direction, be my guest. It feels like I’ve been going in circles.”

Puck showed Winston the map. A red X marked a copse of trees. Winston looked to the countryside where a set of desire lines snaked up the hills. A lightbulb flashed in his head.

“Oh, I know where it is. There’s a footpath just down this end that cuts through the hills there, so just follow it and you’ll be on the road there. Then go downhill and you’ll see the copse.”

 “Just like that?” Puck tore up the map in his hands. “For goodness sakes, you have no idea how long I’ve spent trying to find this damn place.”

“Oh, I can believe it. We get folk who get lost here all the time.”

“Shows what I know.” Puck pawed at his face. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Naw, don’t mention it.” 

Winston rubbed his hands. He could’ve left Puck well enough alone and went on his merry way. Especially with that screamer in the midst. Yet, Winston didn’t want to go home. Calling it a home was stretching it anyway. And a loafer-wearing bigfoot seemed to have a good story to tell. Besides, it was in the spirit of Hornhallow – to celebrate humans and monsters living in unity – to help a monster out. Even if he had every reason not to feel festive.

Besides, if that screamer was still out there, he now had a bigfoot as a bodyguard.

“I could take you there if you wanted.”

Puck smiled and held out his hand, double the size of Winston’s.

“I would really appreciate it. And what’s your name?”

“Winston.” He smiled back.

“Winston. It’s nice to meet you.”

Winston wasn’t sure what to make of that. The only greetings he usually got came in the form of grunts or commands. Winston led the way, Puck stomping behind him.

“So, I wager you’re from New Yorkie, huh?” Winston started.

“You guessed correctly.”

“Nice. What’re the hot dogs like there?”

“Just like regular hot dogs. The pizza, though, is what you should be looking for. It goes straight to your hips.”

Winston thought about his next response as he had to concentrate on not slipping over a particularly icy patch.

“Man, I’d love to see New Yorkie. Must be livin’ the dream there. You got all those celebrities, you got so much to do, not like here.”

“Well, we had plenty to do back here – I’d play with Mom and Dad all the time. We used to climb up trees together, come back covered from head to toe in mud, and play Ludo around the fireplace.” Puck hummed with a wistful tone. “I miss those days.”

That was a foreign concept to Winston. All the fun he had was away from his family. Still, he kept up the charade of playing happy families.

“Nothin’ beats wastin’ time away with your folks.”

“Indeed. I hope you had a nice Hornhallow with yours.”

Winston’s fists tightened and he quickened his pace. He felt rude, not responding, but Puck had no idea how lucky he was. 

This silence lasted even as they followed the desire lines up the hill. This part was always the hardest thing to walk up for anyone, never mind city folk, with how bumpy and uneven it was. This was what walking sticks were invented for. Somehow, Winston fared better than Puck, who huffed and panted.

“You alright?”

“Yes, not used to walking so much.” The bigfoot unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his hairy chest. “I definitely overdressed.”

“You think? I’ve never known a bigfoot to wear kicks.”

“Well, where I work, you’re expected to wear shoes, whether you’re a bigfoot or not. It would be career suicide for me to go in an important office meeting barefoot.”

“But surely, that’s uncomfortable as all heck.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Puck grimaced. It didn’t seem fine, but he seemed convinced that he was, so Winston wouldn’t badger him about it. “Just got to… catch my–”

A distant scream cut through their chatter. He knew that scream.

“Oh no,” Puck whispered. “I need to hurry.”

Puck half-hiked, half-crawled up the hill. Winston could barely keep up, pushing himself up using his walking sticks as purchase. Something was very wrong here. 

“Puck!” Winston yelled. “What’s goin’ on?!”

“Just follow me!”

Winston tried, but he was only human. No surprise that the bigfoot had more strength than he did. But it wouldn’t be too far up the top now. Puck waited for him. Another scream rang from far away. What was happening?

He eventually made it to the top. Winston fell to the ground, catching his breath. Now the shoe was on the other foot. In the bigfoot’s case, both were still on. 

“What are you leadin’ me to?” Winston asked once he was in speaking condition again.

Puck knelt beside him, wiry eyebrows knitted like slugs made of yarn. “I don’t know if I can explain it to a human.”

Winston blinked. “I don’t like your tone. I’m not some kinda caveman.”

“No, it’s not like that, I swear, it’s–” 

Yet another scream resounded in the sky.

“Now, look.” Winston crossed his arms. “You could be sendin’ me to a death trap for all I know. Usually, if someone’s screamin’ bloody murder, I just call the cops.”

“No, there’s no need for that.” 

“Then you’re gonna hafta convince me there’s nothin’ going on over there.”

Puck stared at the ground, rubbing his massive, red-tipped hands together. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“Alright, I guess there’s no reason to leave you in the dark. Every year, us bigfeet meet up in a remote place such as this one, and participate in The Great Roaring. It’s a chance for us to reconnect with nature and also ourselves, relieving all the frustrations we’ve had throughout the past year by screaming into the sky.”

That was… news to Winston. Suddenly, all of those terrible noises and sleepless nights made sense. Except for one thing.

“How come it’s the first I’ve heard of it?” Winston asked.

“We try to keep it a secret from both humans and other monsters. We have customs we want to keep, and if enough outsiders snapped it up, it’s no longer about our heritage, it’s about squeezing the most money out of people.”

That checked out. And Hornhallow, from his experience, had become exactly that – Pops was pissed because Winston got him this cheaper liquor bottle instead of the one he expected.

It sunk in then how far Puck came to celebrate the holidays with his family. His momma must’ve been special for him to burst his New Yorkie bubble to see her. But if humans were kept out of the loop, that probably meant they weren’t welcome guests.

Winston stood up, dusting the frost off his backside, and looked back down the other side of the hill. Past a set of trees, he could see a winding road that led to a copse far away. It glowed orange – there was a big campfire going on over there. It looked so inviting, but he didn’t want to crash Puck’s party.

“Well, seems like I’ve taken you as far as I’m willin’ to go. If you go straight down that path, you’ll get to the Roaring there.”

“Right.” Puck stood up, tenting his fingers. “Well, thank you so much for the directions, Winston. I still can’t believe it was right there all along.”

“No worries. You have a good one.”

Winston sighed and stared back out into Brink’s main road. The view from this up high was worth it already, with how the locals looked like ants crawling in their little mud piles. The sun had fully disappeared. Night would settle in soon. It still wasn’t too far for him to get back. He started making his way down, where he would go back home to retreat to his damp room alone. Again.

“Wait,” Puck called. “I need to thank you somehow.”

“Ah, no need, I’m just glad I could help, is all.”

“That won’t cut the mustard for me.” Puck took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to come and celebrate the Roaring with me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t invite humans.”

“If a human has a bigfoot’s blessing, they can come.” Puck outstretched his hand. “And I give you my blessing.”

Winston stared, awestruck. Puck was a complete stranger, and yet, he offered him more hospitality than his family offered in most of the years they’d been alive. 

“I—” Winston held his chest. “Well, I’m hella honoured, Puck. You’d do that just for me?”

“Yes. It didn’t sound like you had the best Hornhallow, and I know how lonely it gets here in Brink, so it’s the least I can do.”

Winston wasn’t sentimental by any means, and he wouldn’t cry even if he was on his deathbed. But he felt something close to it. He took Puck’s hand, clutching it in a death grip, and following him to the Roaring.

Now it was all downhill from there, they had no trouble walking the rest of the way to the copse. They still heard the occasional scream here and there, getting noisier and noisier as they approached, but it no longer sounded so ominous now Winston knew the reasons behind it.

They were just about to reach the Roaring site. The bonfire burned brighter than ever, and even from outside the copse, a wave of warmth surged through Winston. Bigfoots stood in formation around a circle, with one bigfoot screaming their lungs out in the middle of this circle.

There was a threshold marked by an arch of branches arranged around the copse. Just before they crossed the Roaring site, Puck took his shoes off, sinking his bare feet into the snow. Although Winston was concerned about him getting frostbite, Puck let out an elated sigh and closed his eyes, making a fist with his toes.

“So those shoes were uncomfortable after all, huh?”

“You have no idea. I can’t believe I only took them off now, but it’s bad luck to wear shoes to a Roaring.” He slipped the loafers inside his backpack. “I might be straying from my roots, but I’m not going to dishonour theirs.”

Winston stared at his shoes. “Does that mean I hafta–”

“No, no, we make an exception for guests, as you’ll soon find out.”

Puck waved as another bigfoot approached. She had an even more imposing build than Puck did, towering over the both of them, and the only thing she wore was a baseball cap. She crossed the threshold and squeezed Puck tightly against her fuzzy body.

Puck chuckled. “It’s good to see you too, Mom.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I’m glad you could make it, even if you are a bit late.”

“About that…” Puck pulled away and waved to Winston, who waved back with a lot less confidence. “Winston helped me find my way back here. If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be here at all.”

“A human, eh?” She smiled at Winston, showing her tusks. “Well, thanks for all your help. Does he know about the–”

Another ear-splitting shout boomed through the celebration.

“Yes, he does. And he has my blessing.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a blast here, Winston. I hope you like a good ol’ raccoon barbeque, because we’ve got plenty of that to go around.”

Winston’s stomach growled at the mention of food. It was no roasted goat, but it was something.

“Can’t say I’ve tried raccoon meat before, but I’d appreciate it.”

“You’ll love it. Anyway, you two better come join the circle. I’m sure Puck’ll walk you through the ceremonies.”

The three quietly slipped into the crowd, where Winston was sandwiched between Puck and his momma. Talk about being caught between a rock and… an even bigger rock. Winston kept quiet as a bigfoot stepped out in the middle of the circle.

He talked about all of his worries from the past year or so. This bigfoot seemed to be a single father who had lots of money issues, and tried his hardest to feed his family of three, who watched him from the crowd. He talked about how lonely it was without his wife, and he even shed a few tears along the way. 

The bigfoot sucked in a deep breath and wailed, like a banshee’s cry. Winston had to cover his ears at that. Once he was done, the bigfoot broke out into a smile and talked about his hopes for the future, and how fortunate he was to have his children in his life. Once he rejoined the circle, they hugged him, and he hugged them back.

The circle continued. More dirty laundry was aired out. More bigfoots screamed. And more of them rejoined the circle with more hopeful expressions afterwards. The fact that these bigfoots could talk in such a big crowd and reveal such personal things, especially in front of their family and friends… Winston didn’t know how to feel about that.

Once the circle reached Puck, he stepped aside and pointed to the marked area on the ground where the bigfoots went to say their piece. 

“Don’t you wanna go first?”

“You go ahead.”

Winston shrugged and stepped up. He felt the red eyes of all the bigfoots boring into him.

“Um, I dunno if I can. I mean, you’ll probably all think I’m whinging.”

“Not at all.” Another bigfoot stepped out. “We all come to a Roaring and hear each other’s stresses, without judgment, and we are here to support you.”

“Even though I’m a stranger?”

“You may be human, but a friend of a friend is our friend. So go on, feel free to speak your mind.”

His heart thumped in his chest as Winston thought about what to say. He didn’t know if he could process all those years of loneliness and resentment that festered inside him, or even pin it down as such. All he knew was that he felt like he had neither a voice nor any control over his own life. 

Tonight would be different. Winston organised all of the thoughts swimming in his noggin. He recited them in his mind. A storm gathered inside of him – just reliving those memories made him want to scream, like he would at his siblings whenever they screamed back at him. But instead of screaming out of frustration, he would take the power back from his screams.

Winston smiled and opened his mouth to speak.