The Sideling

An unexpected cryptid is discovered...

In the deepest regions of the Yorklin Woods, a thing of local myth and legend wanders—unseen and unheard.

Almost.

Many a conspiracy theorist, would-be discoverer, cryptozoologist and the like have sworn they’ve seen it. One or two, having mounted small cameras on all sides of their heads, have caught blurry glimpses of… well… something.

The story goes that it watches you as you pass. Curious. Or Afraid. Or Stalking. No one knows. The thing is, it always watches from the side, presumably aiming to stay out of view. But sometimes, people catch it in their peripheral vision. Of course, the minute you turn to look at it directly, it’s gone. Does it disappear? Or camouflage itself like some reptiles and fish? Again: no one knows. Because you can never be certain if you’ve actually seen it or not. And the footage that’s been circulated is far from conclusive.

The mainstream scientists labeled it a peripheral optical illusion phenomenon, explaining that peripheral vision’s lower resolution causes our brains to fill in details from limited information, leading to distorted shapes, perceptions of movement, and so on. That combined with most of the witnesses’ myth-seeking hopes and imagination, leads them to see what they want to see.

Regardless, the popular name of the Cryptid of the Yorklin Woods is the Sideling. Because it’s always off to the side, just out of sight.

I know a little something about being off to the side. I have strabismic amblyopia, commonly called a lazy eye: my left eye remains permanently angled to the far left. I learned how to focus on what my right eye saw; what was straight in front of me. I learned how to not get crushed when kids called me names and bullied me. I learned how surgery would most likely not prove a great success in my case.

So, I wasn’t likely to be prom queen. Or on the cover of some glamour zine. I was never the popular girl. Never the center of attention. Always off to one side.

But I don’t tell you that to incite pity. I still managed to have friends. Our town was one of those ubiquitous, insular bubbles in America where white pod people prayed to a white Jesus, so Lana (the only black kid) and Gabe (the only gay kid) faced ostracization and bullying as much as I did and the three of us became a triumvirate of faithful companions. When Lana was killed at college in a racist uprising, Gabe and his husband were a great comfort.

My point of that sidebar is to say that I always had a heightened sense of empathy for others. I could just sense things, sometimes in way I think other people didn’t. And it was that edge, along with my lazy eye, that made me realize I might just be likely to get a glimpse—and maybe even a little bit of an understanding—of the great, fabled mystery creature.

So, I headed out to the edges of the Yorklin Woods to see if I could do what had never been done: get actual proof of the elusive Sideling.

The Yorklin Woods stretch for miles over mountainous terrain, sinking deep into a vast valley in the center. The foliage itself lay particularly dense with towering trees and thick forest floor shrubbery—all of which made for homes, hiding places and hunting grounds for all sorts of wildlife. I had no doubt that I took considerable risk trekking into this setting alone. But it was the only way my plan would have a hope of succeeding; I had to go solo.

GoPro had just come out with their first 360-degree camera which featured dual lenses to capture spherical footage. I had mounted it onto a bike helmet. It looked ridiculous and wasn’t overly comfortable, but I needed it once I got to the part of the valley where ninety percent of the previous alleged sightings had occurred.

I had trekked quite some time in the valley and daylight silently slipped over the horizon: its final rays streaming through the flora in endless, vibrant amber fingers. The threat of night and its dark dangers had me second guessing my industrious designs. Nevertheless, I put my rigged helmet on and forged ahead.

I don’t know what exactly made me do it, but I gradually slowed my pace. Something just felt off, suddenly. I couldn’t place it at first, but then I realized what I sensed. Everything had gone quiet. No wind rusting through leaves. No chirps. Nothing. Had that happened to anyone else who’d been here?

And just then, I thought I saw a shadow in my peripheral vision of my right eye. I stopped, knowing it had to be the Sideling. Or, at least, hoping it was.

Very slowly, I turned away from the direction of the shadow, eventually coming a full 180 degrees around to face the way I’d just come. I’d hoped that would keep the creature from hiding, since I wasn’t turning to look at it. What it couldn’t know was that my new position allowed my left eye to look directly to the side where I’d seen the shadow. I was betting on the chance my lazy eye would go unnoticed—at least long enough for me to get a good look.

And I was right!

I just stood there, knowing my camera caught the Sideling as I spied it with my one eye, not moving.

It stood tall, spindly, covered in dark fur or hair—its eyes big, black circles like an excited cat. It tilted its head, probably wondering why I just stood there.

I have no idea why I did it, but I clicked my tongue three times.

Tchick, tchick, tchick.

The Sideling tilted its head the other way.

I clicked my tongue another three times.

Tchick, tchick, tchick.

I saw the Sideling’s nostrils flare.

I clicked thrice more.

Tchick, tchick, tchick.

The Sideling opened its mouth. And, from its throat, I heard it reply.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.

I couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across my face.

I tried only two clicks. The Sideling imitated me.

I tried four clicks. The Sideling matched me.

I let out a laugh.

The Sideling seemed to smile at that.

In slow, measured movements, I lowered myself to the ground, sat and pulled out one of my plant-based, all-natural fruit and nut bars. I opened it and took a bite. Then I split the remainder and held out half toward the Sideling.

It sniffed audibly. Then, with skittish trepidation, it inched its way toward me. I continued to eat my half as it got closer and closer. It reached out its gangly arm and took the morsal, sniffed it and then took a bite. It vocalized something between a coo and a purr. It sat and we finished our snack together. Then, the Sideling tentatively reached out its arm again. It touched my face. Of course: it was completely covered in hair; seeing so much skin must have been fascinating. Then, all of a sudden, it stood up and scampered off.

I felt sad. Had I scared it off somehow? My heart pounded in my chest with the thrill of it all. And it had all been caught on camera!

A horrible thought hit me and chills creeped over my skin. If I were to show this footage to the world, what would I unleash upon this gentle creature? Hoards coming to view, perhaps capture and study or worse?

The Sideline reappeared, coming to sit beside me, again, offering a handful of berries. It wanted to return my gift in kind. I accepted the berries and, hoping they’d be safe for humans, I popped one in my mouth. It burst with flavorful juice. I did my best imitation of the Sideline’s coo/purr. It made the same smiling face as before.

By now dusk had darkened dramatically and, noticing it, I realized I was utterly exhausted. My body verified the fact as a yawn forced its way out of me. The Sideling stood and held out its hand. I rose and, though I felt a bit awkward about it, I took the slightly clawed hand. Then, the Sideling led me to a massive tree where, in the hollow of its trunk, the creature must at least sometimes take refuge and sleep in the thick layer of leaves. The Sideline knelt down and I followed suit. Then, it gently took me in its arms and lay my head on its shoulder. I felt awkward about that at first but wanted to be amenable.

It crossed my mind that the creature should have smelled worse than it did. But perhaps it had just bathed in a river or something. Or perhaps they simply didn’t smell bad to humans. I didn’t get to follow my thoughts before I lost consciousness.

I awoke from the morning sun streaming onto my face. I saw no sign of the Sideling except for another helping of berries. I packed them up and knew I had to return home.

On the way, I stopped at a stunning vista with a gorge, carved for centuries by the river miles below. I decided I would tell everyone I’d found nothing. The Sideling deserved to live its life in peace, enjoying studying the occasional human that might cross its path.

I removed the data cards from my camera and threw them into the gorge. They sailed downward, but my spirit soared. I had succeeded in doing what no one had done before. I had proven the Sideling was real.

All because of my perfectly imperfect lazy eye.

My disability became my superpower, allowing me to see what no one else could see. And no one would ever know.

The Sideling and I would keep our secrets. Just out of sight. Our truth unseen and unheard.

After all, that’s what makes a cryptid. Isn’t it?

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This story was created for Labyrinthia Mythweaver and John Watson - Horror Author and their Create A Cryptid Challenge.

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