It started in a flea market in Crossville, Tennessee, looking for some BigFoot Beer, the kind of place where time collapses in on itself like a junk drawer full of haunted memories and expired moonshine recipes. I was there for no good reason, drifting between booths that smelled like motor oil and mothballs, looking for a story—or at least a decent vintage lighter.
There was a taxidermied possum wearing a tutu. A bucket of plastic vampire teeth labeled “Civil War era (probably).” And then there was a shoebox.
Unmarked. Untouched. Inside: four black-and-white photos that shouldn’t exist. Each one featuring the same enormous figure lurking in the background like he’d misplaced his time machine or just really enjoyed awkward family moments across centuries.
I’d found Bigfoot. Not in the forest. In history. Caught on film like a cryptid Forrest Gump with better hair.
@mrwilliebeans I’d found Bigfoot. Not in the forest. In history. Caught on film like a Cryptid Forrest Gump with better hair. #aigeneratedimages #ai #bigfoot #history #documentary ♬ original sound – mrwilliebeans