An Antediluvian Survivor? Another theProse Short.

An Antediluvian Survivor?

The following is an excerpt from the journal of British explorer Major Kirby Smith Porter, who had an astonishing encounter while exploring the Amazonian rainforest west of Manaus in 1901.

I was two days along the coursing tributary of the mighty Amazon, headed into the depths of unknown country. One in which no European had set foot.

It was my distinct hope, as the first Englishman to cross into that dark emerald sea of trees and dismal swamps, to find irrefutable proof of the last representative of a prehistoric age. A beast the natives tribesman lived in fear of. For the monster is said to have a ferocious attitude and delights in the hunting of man. They claim it is a spirit of vengeance and will not travel into its territory.

The same territory to which I venture at present.

In my travels throughout the continents of the Empire, I have always given credence to the fears and superstitions of the locals. For each myth and legend there seemed to be an uncanny grain of truth.

It was on this instinct that I followed the rumors until they became myths, then superstitions where the fear became real. The legends grew more widespread, with more first hand knowledge, as I drew closer to the upper reaches of the world’s mightiest river.

Who could know what abided in those trackless primeval forests?

The shaman at the last village we encountered told me the creature was last seen a weeks journey up the tributary. He warned me not to go that way. He said those who sojourn into the creatures domain do not come back and their families go mad from the creature’s curse. A warning that no more should seek it.

Of course, I was only inclined to believe that so far, but I did guess there to be a creature unknown to modern zoology dwelling in the widely inaccessible regions of Amazonia. As a naturalist and a historian, I could not resist the call of the unknown.

Fortunately I had time and ample provisions to spare. I did not waste another day in the village and so set out on the path prescribed to me. My foresight and vision would soon be rewarded with a sighting of something incredible. One sighting only before my luck turned against me.

It occurred on the evening on my second day as the sun cast long shadows over the dark waters of the river. My guides, who came from Manaus and thus far removed from the deep superstitions of the interior, started to shout and point with frantic energy at an opening on the river bank just ahead. I should say no sight would ever startle me with such fear and wonder. Not even the horrors I would see in the Great War brought such feelings to my mind.

Standing before us was such a creature that could only be described as a giant lizard crossed with a mighty bird, for it was covered in light feathers and stood upon two legs. What distinguished it was the long tail, held out behind the beast and parallel to the ground, and the ravenous slavering jaws. Jaws like that of a crocodile with teeth like long knives. Above its eyes sprouted squat horns and along its spine was a bony ridge. From snout to tail, I ventured the creature to be thirty feet if it was an inch.

I could only guess the monster was indeed a prehistoric remnant of the deep past. It stood apart from the descriptions of London’s best minds, but it stood. Alive and before me.

Indeed the beast was just standing in the failing light of the equatorial sun, absorbing the warmth as night approached. It flicked its tail occasionally and bobbed its head, not unlike a chicken. To miniscule appendages that might have been vestigial arms wiggled at its sides, flicking at the unending swarm of biting insects. I admit it was a boon for me to know the creature of legend was not immune to the pestilent mosquitoes of the jungle.

The creature quickly grew tired of the panicked shouts of my crew and sauntered off into the trees. I stood slack jawed and trembling, not able to fully comprehend what I saw and knowing that I had no way to verify any claim I would make.

For days I searched, forgetting the stories of the animals bloodlust, hacking my way through ensnaring vines and thorns that tore me to ribbons with reckless abandon. We were menced by the biting insects, poisonous snakes, jaguars, and every other dangerous denizen of the rainforest. One by one my companions fell to the assault of nature, to the depredations of the wild.

All was to no avail. Never again did I see the beast.

Death, starvation, and the impending torrential deluge of the rainy season drove me back to civilization. It seemed the curse was all too real.