History
Bonjour! I am James Imamu, I am another of the four founders of The Cryptid. While Elizabeth gave you that lovely introduction, I am here to tell you just a little bit about our history. Without further ado, let’s get into it.
Once upon a time, in Abe’s Town, Louisiana, four children met for the first time. Mikko(6) was staying with her aunts for the summer, Darsh(9) and his folks were visiting a cousin, Elizabeth(7) and her parents were helping an old friend build their house, and I(7) grew up there. By some miracle, during the town's 75th birthday party on May 18, all four of us ended up in the five to twelve hide and seek tournament. The seeker was some out of town kid named Joey O’Donle, which while not strictly important, is something we all remember quite clearly. Darsh, Elizabeth, Mikko, and myself bumped into each other around the halfway point of the hiding period, and decided that there was safety in numbers. We ended up hiding in a dug out area under an old live oak. In reality it was probably something’s den, but they weren’t there while we were, so it wasn’t an issue. As the seeking period began, Joey walked by us more than once, but never found us. We whispered and giggled, and mused for what seemed like an hour or so, before we started to wonder why we hadn’t heard the end of round bell. Darsh, being the brave man he always has been, volunteered to leave the den and find out what was going on. Darsh poked his head out, only for a moment, before coming back in. Promptly, he said that if we were still in Abe’s Town, then he was King of France. Soon enough, we all sneaked a peek and found that Darsh was right. We were, without question, not where we started this adventure. One by one we all crawled out. We found ourselves on what looked like an odd beach, the sand was a light blue and sparkles like snow, the water was a little too purple to be glacier water, but that’s still the closest color I could equate it to. The air also had an incredibly strong smell, a smell I would only learn in later years was lotus blossoms. Strange as the whole situation was, none of us were scared. It all was a rather pleasant experience. We wondered about for a few minutes, talking, feeling the sand, and looking out into the water. Luckily, our dear Elizabeth grew wise, her parents had told her stories of places and happenings like this. Before anyone could wander too far, or touch the water, Elizabeth ushered us back to the live oak. Which was much larger than we remembered going in. The four of us crawled back in and waited, doing our best to keep eyes on each other, and not the odd scene outside. Before we knew it, the light that was pouring into our little den went out, and we could hear calling from outside. We recognized our families voices, and were quick to exit. It was about one in the afternoon when we hid, and it was about one thirty in the morning when we got back. As the search party gathered, Elizabeth was quick to explain exactly what happened to her parents. They seemed to listen, they seemed to believe her, but they were also quick to say she was dreaming, and explain away what she said with something that made far more logical sense. And while you would expect a child to be upset by this sort of treatment when they told the truth, I remember that I was, Elizabeth played along. To the point of agreeing with her parents, and shushing the rest of us. It was never spoken between Mikko, Darsh, and myself, but Elizabeth had gotten us home, so we were willing to trust her again. Even if that meant saying we were silly children who got carried away, and had fallen asleep under a tree. Feeling confused and a little slighted, the four of us got together again the next day. This time under the close supervision of an adult at all times. Darsh, Mikko, and I, not knowing who else to ask, raked Elizabeth for an explanation. In summary, she had always been taught that people didn’t take well to being told magic, and everything that comes with it, exists. So it was best to lie, or make yourself look silly, so that no one makes the situation worse. Elizabeth explained that her parents were at the live oak, doing what they could to make sure no one else fell in and got lost. All things considered, this was an incredibly believable explanation. An explanation substantiated by the fact that when Elizabeth’s father, Grayson, came to pick her up. There was blue sand underneath his nails.
All of this happened relatively early in those cool summer months. And what better way to make fast friends, than to be transported to some other dimension together! Eventually the adults regained enough faith in us to let us play by ourselves, and we ended up spending the rest of that summer together. We did all the normal things six to nine year olds do; told stories, played games, looking for Feu Follet in the nearby woods. It was an amazing summer. After Darsh, Mikko, and Elizabeth had to leave Abe’s Town, we kept in the best contact we could. Writing letters and making calls as often as possible. Then the worst began. A year later Elizabeth’s parents were murdered, and she was shipped off to Scotland with her godmothers. We lost all contact with her. A few months after that Mikko was hospitalized and in a coma for twenty months. Darsh and I were the only ones really able to keep track of each other, and even then, he lived three states over…in Arizona.
It took years for the two of us to find Mikko again. We knew she lived in New Orleans, but her family had kept quite the low profile after her injuries, and Mikko hadn’t reached out to us. After months of convincing and arguing, Darsh(13) and I(11) convinced our families to allow us to go to New Orleans to look for her. After a week and three days of searching the old city, we finally fought her in the St. Louis Cemetery (No. 1), chatting with the ghost of her dead Great Uncle Alessandro. We thought she might not want to see us. After all, it had been nearly four years since we had spoken. Instead, we were greeted by that same old toothy grin, and a hug strong enough to pop your back. It was like no time had passed, and once again we had each other. Sadly the visit couldn’t last long, Darsh and I both had business back home that couldn’t wait. But in the few days we had, Mikko(10) showed us something she was given during her time in the hospital. A note, a note on orange paper that had once been an origami butterfly. The note was of sympathy, of apology, of a wish to be there. It was signed With love, E.J.M., the only way our lost friend had ever signed her name, Elizabeth J. Melhang. There was no return address, no adult knew how it had gotten to Mikko, and most of them weren’t convinced it was from Elizabeth at all! But we were, we knew it was from Elizabeth, there was never a doubt in our minds. We all learned how to fold origami butterflies trying to send messages back. Needless to say it didn’t work, but it was cute, so I thought I’d mention it all the same.
Just two years later Darsh’s family got into a nonfatal car crash that cost our dear friend his legs. Once Darsh(15) was out of the hospital, Mikko(12) and I(13) went to visit him in his hometown of Matslock, Arizona. We didn’t tell him we were coming, so he was quite surprised. His parents told us that our visit was just the spark Darsh needed to start his recovery off right. We were there for one month, and we were all very happy to be together, despite the circumstances. One night, we had convinced Darsh’s parents to let us stay up late, to sit out on the front porch and stargaze. We talked about everything and nothing, but what we talked about most was that fateful day in Abe’s Town. I told them that the old live oak was still there, and that if you got real close, you could still smell the lotus. At some point in the night, Darsh looked up into the sky, he said he had heard bells. Mikko and I had not heard anything, but we trusted him all the same and looked into the sky as well. What we found, instead of bells, was a small roost of Monarch Butterflies, maybe two dozen, and they were coming right for us. They fluttered about us, landing occasionally, and Darsh kept saying he could hear bells. They only stayed for a few minutes before returning to the sky. But they didn’t leave us with just a memory, an orange origami butterfly was sat next to Darsh, and it, same as Mikko’s, contained a message. This note held similar sorrows and condolences as Mikko’s, but it also held a request. That on May 18, the year of her and I’s eighteenth birthday, to meet her in the Honey Island Swamp close to Pearlington, Mississippi. We had a date.
Five years. In five years, Darsh(20), Mikko(17), and I(18) graduated. In five years, Mikko performed her first exorcism. In five years, Darsh gained mastery of his wheelchair, prosthetics, and psychic abilities. In five years, I earned my tattoos. It was May 16 when the three of us met in Pearlington, and if I might share a more personal anecdote, I found this moment sobering. I met both of these people on the same day. However, I had been in contact with Darsh the longest, but living also in Louisiana, I had seen Mikko the most. And Elizabeth, well, none of us had even heard her voice in eleven years. We’re all such different people than we were all those years ago, so much had happened. Now the three of us were about to walk into a swamp, to find a woman who our only shared experience with was the summer before her parents murder. It was quite the moment. We picked up a hotel for four, and on the morning of the eighteenth set off by boat into the Honey Island Swamp.
According to Mikko’s pocket watch, it was about one in the afternoon when we saw one of the single strangest things, any of us had ever experienced. A five foot six, stick of dynamite of a woman, wrestling The Honey Island Swamp Monster, and winning. I’m not ashamed to say we were stunned and didn’t help. While we were soon to make the abnormal our profession, at the moment we were still only 17 to 20 years old with less life experience than you might think. Once the woman had climbed back into her boat and the beast had disappeared back into the swamp, it was maybe a minute before anything was done. While I’d like to sit here and tell you I said something poetic or clever, I didn’t. I didn’t even speak in a complete sentence. All I asked was “Elizabeth?”, and that was enough. She looked up at us, and we would know those orange eyes anywhere.
None of us waited for Elizabeth to dry off before a group hug was initiated. We didn’t even think about it, she hopped into our boat and we held each other like no time had passed. There were tears.
I’ve asked the others, and not one of us remember sleeping that night. Just talking, telling stories, showing pictures. Just being together. The Cryptid was Elizabeth’s idea originally, an idea she had been musing with for years at that point. And Elizabeth, being herself, had the audacity to purpose this joint venture only two months after the reunion. The worst part about it, we agreed, we agreed enthusiastically. We spent a year setting up the infrastructure we needed; this blog, finding contacts, saving money, waiting for Mikko to turn eighteen, etc.. And then, once again on May 18, we published our first article. Today, I’m happy to say, we’re doing good. We’re doing what we love, and we’re doing it together. And we’re happy to have all of you along for the ride.