Another Bear Lake Monster story appears in the form of an original tale written by Tiffany Petitt. The story is in script format and is based on the characters of the TV show Supernatural. Tiffany, a talented artist, also created the illustration below in ballpoint pen. You can link to some of her other art here.
Note: The author does not own Supernatural or any of its characters. The legend in this story is based on the actual legend, and the historical facts the author used to make the monster reality are real facts with her own twists. Published with the author’s permission.
The Bear Lake Monster
A clerk from a back road motel leaned on the dirty counter as he watched the flashing neon sign reflect off of a Chevy Impala as it pulled into the small parking lot; a nice change of scenery from the usual sun-stained van or junk car of the regular customers. Two men exited the vehicle and immediately he could tell they were related; it was something about the way they carried themselves and the similarity in the way they got out of the car. The taller one headed to the trunk while the other made his way to the small lobby.
The man walked in, sporting a rustic leather jacket and holding a large milkshake in his hand, which looked somewhat unnatural with the rest of his rugged appearance. He took another sip, the straw revealing the green contents of the mint-oreo shake.
“One room, two queens please” he said casually as if he’d gone through the procedure a thousand times.
“You boys on a road trip?” the clerk asked nonchalantly, sliding two keys across the counter after the man had paid.
“Something like that… of course, aren’t most people who stay at a place like this on some kind of road trip?”
“Heh, I suppose so” he grunted, rubbing a hand across the back of his head. “Do enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks, we will” the man responded with a grin and a toast of his cup. The cool fall air flowed in through the door as he made his way back to the impala where his brother was waiting with their bags.
The first thing the two brothers noticed as they entered their room was the odd contrast of the cowboy-hat patterned bedspread and the Chinese dragon painting on the wall. The wallpaper was yellow and peeling, but the beds were nicely made and the bathroom clean.
Dean threw his bag to the side of his bed and plopped down, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV to America’s Funniest Home Videos. Kicking off his boots, he snuggled into the pillows and sipped more of his seemingly endless milkshake.
“I’m telling you Dean” Sam started, eying the dirty boots his brother had left sprawled on the floor, “drinking something like that is terrible for you.”
“Come on Sam, it’s a celebration treat for a successful hunt, and how bad can it be… it has mint in it… that’s like… a plant, or herb or something…”
“Dean, it’s got something like, two thousand calories in it, which might have been alright if you we hadn’t already eaten three full-course meals today. You won’t last long in our profession if you keep up a diet like that.”
“Ya see Sammy, you’re looking at this all wrong. If anything’s going to shorten our career, I’d say it’s the career itself, or perhaps the very fact that we exist. In my opinion, obesity is the least of our worries.”
“Well aren’t you the optimistic one” Sam mumbled as Dean laughed at a child face-planting on the TV.
“Seriously though, considering the number of times we’ve died, I wouldn’t say I’m being unreasonably pessimistic” Dean continued, turning his gaze from the screen to his brother.
Sam opened his mouth to speak but Dean interrupted his thought by changing the subject.
“So do we have any new leads? I’m hoping we can keep up this easy-salt-and-burn-without-getting-hurt gig we’ve been managing to do lately.”
Sam sighed, reaching into his leather messenger bag and pulling out their father’s journal. “Actually, we have something pretty big coming up soon.”
“No no, don’t tell me. It’s someone’s birthday… or maybe an anniversary.”
“Ha Ha, no. I’m talking about the list of dates that dad wrote down in his journal. I’ve been keeping tabs on them since we got it and it seems that he had instructions for us coming up in the next week.”
Dean cocked his head and looked over at his brother, “I don’t remember anything like that being in dad’s journal.”
“That’s because he didn’t add it till after the wreck. I guess he was writing this out for us all that time I was out looking for all those items for him to… well… I guess that, rather than a goodbye letter, he left us a list of potential hunts to keep us on our toes and together.”
Turning off the TV, Dean swung his feet over the edge of the bed and leaned forward with an expression of curious excitement.
“Well, what’s it say?”
Sam flipped through the journal’s old pages and opened it up to a double-page spread, turning it to where his brother could see it. There were some doodles drawn of a dragon and some tribal symbols scattered in-between hand-drawn notes.
“This is the creature that dad wrote about; the” Bear Lake Monster.” It was first sighted by a Mormon colonizer, Joseph C. Rich, in the 19th century. Though he recanted his claim, many other legends and stories have come about from it; some have said that it’s a giant snake with legs that Pecos Bill wrestled with and threw to Loch Ness, where it in-turn became the “Loch Ness Monster,” while others claim that it is a plesiosaurian.”
“A what?” Dean made his “How the heck do you expect me to know what that is?” face.
“It’s like a dinosaur of sorts.”
“Holy crap, seriously? I always wanted to hunt down a dinosaur.”
“You did?” Sam’s eyebrows raised in sarcastic disbelief.
“Sure I did, what kid wouldn’t? I mean you watched Jurassic Park didn’t you? Who the heck watches that and doesn’t want to kick some dinosaur tail?”
Sam let out a short breath of laughter and leaned back on his bed, lifting the book to read.
“Well I hate to burst your bubble, but according to dad, it isn’t actually a dinosaur.”
“Aw come on Sam, why do you always have to crush my childhood dreams?”
“Says the one who told me at four years old that I had to be able to hold my breath for an hour to qualify to become an astronaut.”
“Well Sam, I figured it would be better to blame the NASA recruiting system for you not being able to follow your dreams than to tell you it was dad’s fault.”
“Moving on” Sam declared, changing the subject back to the journal in his hand, “apparently dad did some research and found out some valid facts of his own aside from the folklore and rumors. The story goes that in 1865 there was a huge controversy between the settlers and the Indians. It lasted two years and apparently was the longest and most violent controversy between the natives and pioneers in Utah history. It started with a dispute between some frontiersmen and the Utes that led to one of the white men throwing a brave from his horse. The Indians took great offense to that, in particular a brave by the name of Black Hawk, hence the title of the war being the Black Hawk War.”
“Alright alright, skip the history lesson Sammy, where does this dinosaur thing come in?”
The shaggy-haired brother looked at Dean with an expression of annoyance, then continued his explanation.
“Within just a few days of the controversy, the Indians rallying behind Black Hawk had killed five Mormon settlers and hundreds of cattle were stolen; a pattern which continued for the next couple months or years. Black Hawk rallied warriors from all of the different tribes such as the Paiute and Navajo and went about massacring settlements and forts. The pioneers and settlers retaliated and war broke out, the white men chasing the natives across Utah. Though Black Hawk signed for peace in 1867, the violence continued and many Indians, without a leader to rally around became overwhelmed and desperate. This is where our “Monster of Bear Lake” comes in.”
Sam stood to his feet and began walking across the room, his father’s journal in hand as he continued the story, his finger pointing out particular notes he was addressing as he said them.
“One particular tribe of Navajo Indians had become very developed in witchcraft and ceremonial tradition which allowed them to bless of curse people and things. One of these was ‘iińzhįįd, a sympathetic magic of sorts, which uses the power of one’s name or an object in their possession. In this case, they used this curse on a snake.”
“So this is just a cursed snake?” Dean broke in, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Well, yes and no” Sam replied. “You see, this creature started out about fifteen feet in length, but when it was cursed it rapidly grew to around thirty-five.”
“So it’s a really big cursed snake.”
“Dean, I’m getting to that. The thing about the curse is that other than the snake growing in size, it also received supernatural qualities. Nothing could destroy it; not explosives, bullets, blades, or any man-made weaponry.”
“A bit overkill don’t you think?” Dean cut in, raising his eyebrows.
Sam rubbed his head and let out a sigh, “seriously, but there’s more. Another small addition the curse made to the snake was that it grew these small legs that run down the extent of its body… it’s not exactly a dragon or dinosaur, but it bears a resemblance. It protected the Navajo Indians for ten years, but a few months into the last year a small group of pioneers found out about the curse and discovered a way to counter it. They found an offset to the curse by placing a Protectionway sing on…” Sam reached down into their weapons bag and pulled out two scythes “… these babies.”
Read Tiffany’s entire TV script here