Yeti

I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t even know he was there. I was trying to take a picture of the mountains. The mountains!

The motorbike wobbles. It’s windy here, and the road curves so sharply, but I can’t slow down. I catch glimpses of him: shaggy head, ropy arms, loping through the trees.

Reclusive. Probably mythical. I’d laugh, but…

Bridge ahead. I gun the motor. The sound of the engine kicks up into a higher register. It’s weak, feeble against the weight of the night and the forest.

I hear the heavy footfalls behind me.

Am I fast enough?