Carlos Henderson

I'm a lumberjack and I'm ok...actually, fuck, something is seriously damaging my calm


Six foot tall, broad of shoulder, still lean from all the running he does, Carlos is a black haired, brown eyed man. a few days worth of stubble seems to have permanently grown on his face. Sadly, it’s not the cool, designer stubble, but the kind from a man who neesd to shave everyday, otherwise it looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week. He doesn’t say a lot, characterised by his trademark “yep” as the answer to most things.

Comfortable in his jeans, a flannel shirt, sh*tkicker boots and baseball cap, he looks every inch a man who has crawled from the nearest cave or forest.

He’s actually a fairly calm and positive person, but his outwardly stoic demeanor tend to put people off from having conversations with him.


Carlos has been a lumberjack for years. He didn’t have a lot of skills as a kid. School came hard, sports were difficult, hell, even socialising was a challenge.

Things changed for the better when he found running. Long distance running. He could get away from everything and everybody for hours, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

Not everybody liked running, but those that did had a pleasant tendency to remain quite more often than not. Carlos felt a sense of belonging. As school was finishing, he started to look for work. One of the runners in Carlos’ club worked for a big company that cut timber day in and day out, and they were always looking for men of endurance and a reasonable size to start.

Jumping at the opportunity to get further away from civilisation, Carlos quickly found that he enjoyed the quiet, and the men he worked with we generally stoic, hardworking and simply kept going, just like him.

Years would pass and Carlos grew more skilled. He passed on several opportunities to lead teams of lumberjacks, always preferring to keep more to himself. Friends were great, but he found that he needed them less than they needed him, and he disliked having people needing him, and constantly asking questions.

He had been sent down a steep slope to try and track down a line that had snapped and figure out what went wrong. Getting to the base of the slope took some effort and the cable looked to have been torn apart from stress. Carlos was positive that he had checked this cable himself and there was no sign of wear.

A movement from the corner of his eye dragged his attention from the cable.

“Fuck! A bear!”

At least, that’s what Carlos thought he saw. It wasn’t moving towards him, but to the top of the ridge. It moved and stood like a human on the whole, but it stood well over eight foot tall and had a beastal face, fangs dripping saliva as it clambered up the slope faster than was believable.

It wasn’t until he heard the screams and yelling that he understood what was happening. He sprinted as fast as he could back to the top of the slope, but it took him valuable minutes to make his way back up, and well before he arrived, the screams had stopped and there was nothing to be heard but his own laboured breathing.

The top greeted him with the grizzly sight of the entire work crew slaughtered. Limbs torn asunder, bodies strewn about, blood splattered across the area. Collapsing to his knees, it was all he could do to keep his lunch from erupting back up. Reaching gingerly for the nearest radio, he called in help, waiting, horrified, until help arrived.

That was his last day. Nothing could help. Therapy, alcohol, sleep…nothing cleared his mind. Until he was approached by a top secret government department. The incident had piqued their interest and as it turned out, this was not an isolated incident. The government was putting together a team, that couldn’t be traced back to them, to investigate these occurrences, and Carlos was asked to join. With nothing else to look forward to, and a possible answer on the horizon, he said yes.

Carlos Henderson

Hawkes Bay Monster Hunters creon39