Mystery of Bear Creek | Teen Ink

Mystery of Bear Creek

August 12, 2010
By squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

The sun was setting in the evening of what had been a dreary summer day. As the light in the sky faded away, a multitude of colors mixed and mingled, creating a breathtakingly beautiful collage of pinks, oranges, reds, blues, and gold. In the distance, a crow cawed, breaking the silence of the dusk, followed by the rustling of leaves and tree branches caused by birds leaving their nests and taking flight. One crow became ten crows, those ten crows multiplied into an ominous cloud of black feathers and beating wings, hovering over a quiet forest.

Maeve gazed out of the window of her uncle’s cottage by Bear Creek, mystified by what she had just seen. She would have called her older twin brother Ciar over from the living room to show him, but she knew what he would say, and Maeve decided to keep the spectacular sight all to herself. It was such an odd thing so see, she did not know that crows flew in murders that large, nor that they hovered for so long before plunging back into the depths of the forest. In all of the summers she had spent with her Uncle Avery, she had never seen such a site, as a matter of fact, she had hardly seen anything at all besides dead fish that washed up on the banks of the creek. She took an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table, a bright green apple that was a tad misshaped and bit into it. She grimaced, for it was so sour, it almost made her gag. She took a different one from the bowl, a bit annoyed that an apple had distracted her from her watch. This one was different. It was red, perfectly round with no bumps or soft spots, and tasted sweet.

She heard the television being turned off, it being very old made static noises before going silent, then heard Ciar approaching from behind. He flicked the back of her exposed neck (her light blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail), and stole her apple.
Ciar cackled, biting the apple. He made a face, as if the apple had been a foul piece of garbage that just happened to look like fruit. He thrust it back to her and picked an ugly looking green one from the bowl, which quite resembled a mango itself.
“Unnle Avwey wans us oo go ou’side,” he told her, through a mouthful of mashed up fruit.
Though they were only several minutes apart, Maeve always thought that she was years beyond him (maturity being the most significant). She heaved herself up from her little perch on the window seat in Uncle Avery’s tiny breakfast nook and followed her brother, ruffling his scruffy, unkempt black hair behind him.
The cottage was so small, Maeve could see her uncle from the living room. He was a tall, burly man with red hair and a straggly red beard. He always wore suspenders on his pants and there were never sleeves on his plaid shirts, even in the winter when it was bitterly cold. “I keep my muscles out for the ladies,” he always said.
He was holding something that caused her heart to drop to where she thought her stomach should be, but it was already so twisted into knots that her heart could not reach it.
“Cool,” breathed Ciar, eying the hunting riffle with a mischievous grin.
Maeve looked upon its thin, metal barrel and wooden handle, thinking that such skilled crafting should be used to create, not create tools to destroy. She loathed it.
“Do we get to use it?” asked Ciar, eagerly.
Before Uncle Avery was able to complete his response, Ciar jumped zealously into the air and made to take the gun from his uncle, but Uncle Avery slapped his hand away.
“Don’t even think abou’ touchin’ this here riffle before ya hear wha’ I’ve got ter say!” he warned Ciar, whose enthusiasm had shriveled into nothing. “Alls ye’v got ter shoot is some gooses, ya hear me? Just some gooses! Not nothin’ else but three gooses!”
“Alright, gooses, got it,” said Ciar, lunging for the gun again, but tripping over an above ground tree root. He stumbled back into his place next to his sister, his cheeks flushed.
“Maeve gets the gun,” said Uncle Avery, sternly, his eyes locked onto Ciar with fire in his stare. “Don’t think I trust you with this here gun.”
Maeve’s stomach did a somersault.
GUN?! Me with the gun?! He’s nuttier than a squirrel if he thinks I’m taking that thing!
“Yeh don’t gotta shoot it,” Uncle Avery told her, noticing the frightened look on her face. “Yeh just gotta carry it till yeh finds a goose. Ciar can shoot it and do the rest. I don’t trust him to shoot just the gooses yeh see?”
Ciar stepped forward and opened his mouth to argue, but Uncle Avery cocked the gun, threateningly, and he sunk back into his place.
“Here,” he said, thrusting the cold metal weapon into Maeve’s hands. She did not even like the feel of it, but Uncle Avery took no note of this, as he was too preoccupied lecturing Ciar. “Now listen you yeh little bugger, none of yer shenanigans, yeh hear me? Absolutely none! If yeh even think about doin’ somthin’ yeh know yer not supposed ta do, don’t do!”
“I got it! I got it!”
He stormed off, kicking twigs and dead leaves with his anger, then stubbing his toe on a tree stump.
As Ciar howled in pain, Uncle Avery turned to Maeve, gave her an apologetic glance, and nudged her forward towards the woods.
The fallen twigs and leaves crunched beneath their feet as they tramped through the not too heavily treed forest. The riffle’s end touched the forest floor as it slithered across, making an eerie sound at Maeve’s side. She looked up into the darkening sky, hoping to see the crows again, but did not.
“Where’re we supposed to ‘find us some gooses’?” she asked her brother.
“I dunno, I’m not a goose,” he shrugged. “Our best bet would’ve been the sky, but they’re not going to fly out at dusk.”
Dusk it surely was. The light was beginning to fade, it would soon be dark. Mosquitoes were swarming all around them and cricket chirps could be heard among the din made by other forest life. Maeve simply avoided the clouds of insects, but Ciar began to swat them away. At first glance, he appeared to be doing some sort of strange dance ritual, but began to cry “Get off! Get off!” and Maeve snickered to herself.
He danced farther and farther into the shadows, and eventually, Maeve could only hear his shouts, and they were beginning to fade away. She was alone in the woods with a gun she did not want and it grew darker by the second, but she did not mind. The peaceful sounds of cricket chirps, the low hooting of owls, the sounds of squirrels scampering about the forest floor, and the soft trickling of water dribbling down Bear Creek lulled her into a state of bliss.
“Who needs gooses when I’ve got this?” she said to herself, wondering if Uncle Avery had ever enjoyed such beauty.
Then, all of a sudden, the shrill, almost painful sounding, caw of a crow in the distance rang out like gun fire, breaking Maeve’s relaxed state and silencing the creatures around her. It was so terrifyingly cold and painful, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up, and for a moment, she thought that the creek had frozen over.

She looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of a massive creature with shaggy black hair. It was running from something, but she could not see what it was. What she was able to see was the murder of crows from before. They were no longer cloud like, but a spiraling vortex of bleak blackness hovering inches above the ground, singing a chorus of caws. Between the mass of black feathers, Maeve could see a small, injured creature lying on the fallen leaves, its chest heaving up and down, desperately trying to cling to its life.

Without a thought or hesitation, Maeve pushed through the swarm of crows to aid the fallen animal. It was a young fawn, a doe perhaps, with cream colored fur on its underside and a light brown on its back that was speckled with white. One of its legs was bent at odd ankle and Maeve assumed that it was broken. She gingerly brushed her fingers along the fawn’s back. It stirred, its dark brown eyes staring up at her with a such purity it was humbling,but was surprisingly calm. Maeve had never been this close to a deer, as they usually ran away when approached by people, and the fawns were typically with their mothers, but this one was all alone.

The crows began to close in on them and the circle they formed became constricting and caused Maeve’s heart to beat faster and faster.

What do they want? Why are they here? Do they expect it to die?!

Maeve could not let that happen though, she refused to let the fawn die! How could she help it though? She knew nothing about mending human injuries, let alone a deer’s! Then it donned on her.

Uncle Avery! He’d know what to do!

Maeve assessed the deer and decided that it was small enough for her to carry and that if she held it around its middle, then she would be able to move the fawn and not cause more damaged to the broken leg.

In her haste to the deer, Maeve had dropped the riffle outside of the circle of crows, and, until she had heard it being cocked behind her, she had completely forgotten about it.

“Get away from dinner!”

“Ciar NO!”


The blast from the gun knocked Ciar off his feet and scarred the crows away. Maeve had thrown herself over the fawn to protect it from the braches that had been knocked from their trees by the bullet.

“What’d you do that for?!” Ciar demanded, angrily.

“You can’t hurt it!” shouted Maeve cried.

“Who cares? It’s about to die anyway!” reasoned Ciar, hoisting himself to his feet and brushing the dirt and leaves from his shirt.

“No, it’s just a broken leg! Please, just let me take it to Uncle Avery,” pleaded Maeve, her eyes darting between her brother and the riffle lying on the ground. It almost looked harmless just lying on the forest floor.

“Get out of the way Maeve!”

Out of nowhere, an enormous black bear came bounding into the clearing straight at Ciar. It slammed its massive body into him, knocking several feet backwards. He landed with a loud thud and a sickening crunch. He rolled onto his back clutching his side, one of the ribs on his left side had been broken and there was a heavy flow of crimson pouring from his nose and his shirt had been torn, revealing a deep gash on his right shoulder. The bear roared such a fierce roar that it shook the very earth it was standing on. It approached the spot where Ciar was writhing and moaning in pain, menacingly, baring its sharp, jagged teeth.

“NO! Please! He didn’t mean it!” Maeve called to the bear, although it would typically seem useless, for how could a great Black bear possible know what she was saying?

To her upmost surprise, the bear turned to face her. It stared directly into her eyes, its big black eyes connected with hers in a way that she could not understand, it was almost assuring. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest it might have burst through her skin as the bear came closer and closer until, finally, the very tip of its snout touched her nose. With just that gentle nudge, her fear was pushed away. She reached out and stroked its head, now knowing that she was not in danger, and it grumbled softly. They stood there for a moment, Maeve connected to the bear, but her mind had gone completely blank. She had no idea what was happening to her or the bear. It turned away from her, beckoned to the little fawn who had watched the ordeal, curiously, and it wobbled to its feet, its broken leg not touching the ground. The bear exited the clearing, with the fawn hobbling behind it. They disappeared behind a large tree trunk, but not before the fawn looked back at her, and bowed its head gratefully.
Maeve’s brain reconnected with the rest of her body, and she chased after them. They had ducked behind the vast tree trunk, but had not appeared on the other side, nor had they gone straight for she would have seen them, but they were not there. The bear and fawn, an unlikely pair, had disappeared into thin air.
That night they gathered around the kitchen table for a small meal, as Maeve and Ciar had failed to find any geese hidden within the woods. Uncle Avery had been quite upset that they had found nothing, but once he had seen Ciar’s blood stained shirt and face, he was more concerned for him that dinner. He had lied and said that he tripped over a tree root onto a pile of rocks and sustained the injuries that way. Only he and Maeve knew the truth.
They had meandered silently through the forest. Ciar was too angry with Maeve for letting their dinner escape with a bear “who most likely would have eaten it anyway”, but Maeve knew better. In her heart, she could sense that the bear would never harm that little fawn, not ever. She wracked her brain, attempting to explain why a fawn would ever trust a great black bear, but in the end, she decided that some mysteries were better left unsolved, for that was the true magic of Bear Creek.

The author's comments:
This isn't exactly fantasy, but it really didn't fit with the other fiction categories, so here it is! It was a school project at first, but it's the only piece I've written that's original, aka, not fan fic (I've gotten a bunch of comments saying I should be more original). Hope you enjoy!

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This article has 16 comments.

on Aug. 29 2010 at 9:40 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

Awe! Thanks Jason!

on Aug. 29 2010 at 9:29 pm

well if there is someone out to get you and you find out who it is, let me know and I'll take care of them for you...

By diverting their attention away from you so that you don't get bothered :)

on Aug. 29 2010 at 9:20 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

Thanks, you know I love your critiques! Hahaha. I don't know why anyone would do it either, so I think I'll just let it go and maybe start another. I dunno, I just hope someone's not out to get me on this site :l

on Aug. 29 2010 at 8:41 pm
im sorry I never saw the forum you're talking about. Maybe someone accidently hit the report button or something lol but I mean I'm happy to look at whatever you want me to and I'm sorry that your thing got deleted--I honestly don't know who would do such a thing on purpose.

on Aug. 29 2010 at 8:04 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

I had a forum asking your team to critique my romance story. It's gone. I didn't delete it, and the only way to get rid of a forum is to report it. It wasn't bad, I didn't bad mouth the team, I complimented it, so I don't know why it would be reported, but it was.

on Aug. 29 2010 at 4:42 pm

your welcome for the feedback! glad it helped! and typos happen I'm just mean about them sometimes which is unnecessary but i knew you could handle it :P

and no I didn't report you or anyone for anything... I don't do that sort of thing and I'm sorry on behalf of the J7X team for whoever did that to you. What exactly happened? I haven't been online a lot and I'll be on more infrequently with school and football season swallowing up my life lol

on Aug. 28 2010 at 3:10 pm
bluesky0728 SILVER, Phoenix, Arizona
8 articles 0 photos 107 comments
Thanks again for writing! :)

on Aug. 28 2010 at 3:05 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

Thanks! It was supposed to be magical realism, which I kinda epically failed at =) You're right, magical animals are sooooo over done! It actually reminded me of that disney movie "Brother Bear" or whatever hahaha. Thanks again for reading!

on Aug. 28 2010 at 3:00 pm
bluesky0728 SILVER, Phoenix, Arizona
8 articles 0 photos 107 comments

Ok, feedback...

I know this isn't your usual style, so it's a really good job with something you're not comfortable with. You did a great job setting up the story, and you put in excellent emotions and dialogue. I could relate to Maeve for loathing the gun and for being more mature than her brother ;)

I didn't really like the whole "magic bear" thing... thought that was a little cheesy... but that's probably just my personal taste in writing; I like a good, gory adventure story! But you did an awesome job! Really creative! :D

on Aug. 26 2010 at 12:15 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

Oh, just wondering, did you report my forum asking your team for help? I'm NOT accusing, just asking.

on Aug. 26 2010 at 12:05 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

THANK YOU!!! Sheesh, you sound like the person who helps me with my writing, actually, you said the exact same thing she said about my diolague, which, shockingly, I've done better on. Terrible, this is better than what I've done...Sad, I know. Anyway, thanks!

And I don't hate it, it's an experiment, and I didn't know what else to write in the Realistic Fiction genera, so I chose something already written. I hated writing it, it was boring and I couldn't use my imagination in the way I wanted to. This isn't the genera for me.

Thanks for your honesty! I really appreciate it! I've got no idea what "shouted Maeve cried is", absolutely no idea other than a HUGE typo, which I seem to be doing a lot lately. I'm off my game, I know I am. Unecessary stage directions as in I say where they're moving too much? If so, I do agree. If not, well, I'm sure I'd still agree cause this needs a lot of work.

It was sort of modern though! You gotta give me credit for that!!!

Thanks again for your HONEST feedback.

on Aug. 25 2010 at 6:41 pm

I'm sorry that your friends are making me do this... I know you're not the faker. But your friends are and I'm doing this in spite of them. Sorry that you have to associate with such disrespectful people. 


Now for honest feedback: first of all, if you hate what you write, WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY even bother?

In general you used way too much description. Repetitive description, unecessary stage directions, (what the heck is "shouted Maeve cried." and "Ciar demanded, angrily.") It would do you a lot of justice to let that really good dialogue of yours to speak for itself. Use "said" or "asked" instead of "demanded angrily" or if you must, just use one verb; demanded because people usually don't demand things without indignation/anger.

Want specifics as to how somethign is over described? Look at how you describe anything and see if you can make it more concise.

on Aug. 23 2010 at 12:23 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

And the faker wasn't me! I didn't change my mind under a false name! How dare you?! Stop this! I've done nothing to you besides ask for feedback! I tried to stop that silly argument between you and my friends!

on Aug. 23 2010 at 12:20 pm
squidzinkpen SILVER, Buffalo, New York
9 articles 0 photos 193 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The Irish gave the Scots the bagpipes as a joke, but the Scots haven't seen the joke yet"- Irish Proverb

Okay, well, that doesn't help me at all. I asked for your help because, even though this again isn't my style, I think it helps to see what I can improve on from all angles, even a style that I hate (aka, realistic/magical realism).


I won't be starting a team, but I'm disappointed that I don't get an honest critique. I don't post work here to get praised. If I wanted that, I would post work that I know is great, not that I need help with. Apparently I shouldn've have asked for your advice, as you think that I am incapeable of communicating with my friends.


I hate this story and could care less about people liking it. It would probably be better if people hated it, they'd be more brutal and it would help me see what I can fix. I just need help strengthening my writing all around, not just fantasy, which this is certainly not. So, say what you will, and I will ask my friends to lay off, otherwise, you're not doing me any good.

on Aug. 23 2010 at 8:27 am
oh and just to clarify, everything after "because it" was directed at me.

on Aug. 23 2010 at 8:26 am

I'm afraid to tell you what I really think because then your friends will create a fake me and say that I loved it.

So I'll just say that the dialogue was very very good. Maybe this would make a better script than short story because it...


oh. wait. bad jason. Can't give honest feedback or you'll change your mind under a false name and want to marry the author. Then you'll overreact and start a team of people who agree with you and try to help more people become better writers. Then you'll start a fight on squid's story...

you should just crawl back into your little hole and finish one of those horrendus novels that you're working on. Leave the good writers on teenink alone.