The Man-Creature

The Man Creature

Dear Sir:

I received your rejection letter today and I must say I was appalled at the wording. For you to summarily reject all that I have conveyed to you, in confidence, I may add, is inexcusable. In addition to insulting my intelligence, you have revealed a level of boorishness which causes me to be thankful I will not be obligated to have the slightest contact with you.

The existence of this creature cannot be denied much further by the scientific establishment. I myself have seen this being, as I conveyed to you in our meeting.

Since you so readily reject my offer to view this man-creature, I would suggest you are very limited and obstinate in your judgment.

This posture, in my opinion, does not bode well for the scientific community, as a whole. I would say, to you sir, that I sincerely pray your stance does not reflect the positions of the balance of the scientific community. One needs be open to new thoughts, proposals and discoveries.

Signed,

George Harbin

Jonathon Dearborn set the letter aside. Perhaps he should not have been so hasty in his decision to reject Harbin’s invitation to view this man-creature, as he termed it. Though he still felt Harbin was an uneducated pompous fool.

All branches of the sciences were making new discoveries faster than anyone had ever thought possible and he and his staff were having the devil of a time trying to keep them recorded. Not to mention the difficulty of authentication.

Wearily he thought that perhaps he should send William out to investigate. If this man-creature did indeed exist, it was up to his office to authenticate and record the findings.

Jonathon rang the bell for his secretary, Harold.

Harold slid through the door in a way that reminded Jonathon of a large snake he had once viewed at a circus. He recoiled at the thought and shook himself free of the distaste he felt for the man. He was the best secretary Jonathon had ever had in his employ.

“Would you send William to see me when he returns? I’ll need to send him off on another adventure.”

Harold bowed. “Yes, sir, I’ll send him around as soon as he returns.” He then slid back out the door.

Harold Forde had ambitions to be an investigator. He had almost steeled himself to asking Mr. Dearborn if he could be allowed to take this current assignment. He knew Mr. Dearborn did not care to be in his presence and this caused him to be more reluctant to ask.

His wife, Sarah, had urged him to approach Mr. Dearborn as he would any other gentleman, and simply ask if he felt that he, Harold, could be assigned to do an occasional investigation.

Rising from his desk he approached Mr. Dearborn’s office door, as though it were a personal challenge. Once he knocked upon the door and Mr. Dearborn said, ‘enter,’ Harold’s confidence withered away.

Timidly he entered the office and cleared his throat.

“Uh, Mr. Dearborn,” he squeaked, “may I please have a moment of your time?”

Nodding, Jonathon motioned for Harold to sit.

Harold began by explaining how he would like to progress with the administration, before he came around to his request.

Jonathon Dearborn would never have considered Harold as an investigator. His dislike of the man did not stem from a bad act or reputation. Indeed, Harold Forde had an excellent record and his work was exemplary. He was practically indispensable.

Jonathon rose and faced the window. “Harold I really can not do without you in this office. You have done an excellent job and I have come to depend upon you. Too much so, I’m afraid. However, I do have a small assignment and it’s practically ‘round the corner. It’s the report from George Harbin of a man-creature. I’m sure you have seen it. Would you be interested in going ‘round and having a peek? I understand it’s at Merryweather’s Circus down near the square.”

“Yes, sir, I would be glad to have a look at the creature.” He smiled. “If it does exist.”

Jonathon was startled to see Harold’s face rupture into a smile. It changed his whole countenance. He did not realize he had been staring until the smile was replaced by an uncomfortable frown.

“I apologize for staring so. I just realized I have never seen you smile and I was taken by surprise. Finish up what ever you have been working on and trot down to Merryweather’s before he moves on. Will you have time to do this today?”

“Yes, sir, my work is finished, for now. I’ll leave right away. Thank you, sir, for the opportunity.” Harold bowed faintly before departing.

Practically skipping with joy at being let out of his office and doing field research, Harold arrived at Merryweather’s Circus and Oddities. He wandered among the small tents and searched for the man-creature.

Shortly he came across a gentleman who looked very familiar. He remembered seeing him in Mr. Dearborn’s office the previous week. George Harbin. This was the man who had reported the man-creature.

He approached kindly. It would not do to antagonize the man.

“Mr. Harbin? I’m Harold Forde from the Office of Scientific Authentication. I believe we met briefly when you come to see my employer, Mr. Dearborn, a fortnight ago.”

George Harbin, showing no gentlemanly behavior, looked Harold over as though he were troglodyte.

“I seem to recall your employer threw me out of his office, quite unceremoniously I may add. What do you want?”

Not to be deterred by the uncouth scoundrel, Harold told him he was there at Mr. Dearborn’s behest to authenticate the existence of the man-creature he, Mr. Harbin, was so convinced was a new species.

“He sends ‘round his secretary!” Harbin exploded in a flurry of jerks and began to scamper about. “I tell his ‘royal high ness’ about a new species and he sends his bloody secretary!” His voice was escalating, his jerks turned to convulsions and shortly Mr. Harbin was flat on his back in the confusion of people who had gathered to see the sight.

He lay quite still. Harold cautiously touched the man’s shoulder. When no movement was seen he gently shook him. He felt for the pulse on Harbin’s throat. There was none. George Harbin had had a fit and died.

Someone sent for a policeman who arrived on the scene as Harold was rising.

“What happened here?” The policeman asked.

“I believe he had a fit, sir. I was sent by the Office of Scientific Authentication to seek Mr. Harbin and ask about a man-creature he claimed was a new species. I’m afraid he was rather upset about the fact I am not a full-time field investigator. I’m secretary to Mr. Jonathon Dearborn, head of the office.”

The policeman looked around at the crowd. Those who had witnessed the altercation agreed with Harold’s explanation.

“Would you come ‘round to the station tomorrow and fill out a report, sir? We’ll need one for the next of kin. If there are any, that is.”

“Yes, of course. I will be there in the morning.”

As Harold was leaving, a slight figure signaled for his attention.

“Yes?” Harold asked.

“I can show you the creature, sir. He’s right over in that red tent. He’s not a new species though. I saw the same animal in a show where I worked in India. They know all about it there. They call it a Yeti.”

Harold looked the man over. He did not appear to be a swindler. The Yeti was only a legendary creature used to frighten small children in to behaving. Harold found himself wondering if the Yeti was indeed a real creature.

“I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind.” Harold told the man.

They took a circuitous route, but finally came upon a tattered tent. An old man who appeared to be Indian was positioned before the entrance.

Harold’s guide spoke to the Indian, with Harold straining to hear the words. Yes, he thought, definitely Indian.

The old man rose and opened the tent flap. The diminutive guide motioned for him to enter.

Stealing himself against the horror stories he had read, Harold entered the tent.

A large, hairy creature rose upon two legs and approached with inquisitiveness. The smell was dreadful, but Harold was so overcome by curiosity that he forgot to be frightened or repelled.

The guide stroked the creature. “He’s friendly, yes sir. Smart, too. Understands most of what he’s told and has never hurt anyone. The old man calls him Yeti.”

Harold was allowed to take measurements of the creature.

“Is the old man outside his owner?”

“He says he don’t own Yeti. Yeti belongs to the mountains and they’ll be going home soon.”

“But this is the find of the century, man!” Harold exclaimed. “Why this could make the old man and yourself rich. The Yeti should be put in a zoo where he could be studied by other scientists!”

The guide shook his head. “You don’t understand, sir. Yeti is not to be put in a cage and treated like a freak. He’s just from another country, that’s all. No. You can’t be putting Yeti in no cage. I think you had better leave.”

Harold hastened back to the office.

Mr. Dearborn met his explanation with more than a little skepticism.

“You must come see for yourself, sir.” Harold beseeched.

“Very well, call my driver, please.”

Harold wound his way to the threadbare tent, but it was empty. A full search of the grounds did not uncover the whereabouts of the guide, the old man or the Yeti.

“I’m afraid you’ve been duped, Harold.”

“Mr. Dearborn, the creature was in this tent. The old Indian sat right there next to the entrance and the guide took me in to see the Yeti. Why, I have the measurements of him in my pocket! I was not duped, sir.”

Harold was at his wits end. “The odor of him still lingers. Don’t you smell it?”

In fact, Mr. Dearborn did smell it. He had been trying to be polite, until he realized it was not Harold who reeked. “Yes. There is a most unpleasant odor about the place. But I fear the Yeti and his owner have disappeared. Let’s get back to the office and say no more of this incident.”

* * *

Three years later, Harold Forde was huddled in an ice cave in the Himalayan Mountains. His search for the Yeti had brought him to this place, to face certain death by freezing. His food was gone and the snow was so dry he got very little water from it.

As he drifted into endless sleep, an odor teased his senses, caressing him back to consciousness. A beautiful white Yeti was sitting beside him and an old man, fully clad in fur, was trying to get him to drink a hot liquid. A small fire was burning next to him and he could feel its warmth.

He touched the white fur Yeti, taking the feel of it back to sleep with him.

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