Bog-man of Loch Ness Chapter 13: Fantasy Golf Safari of 1939

* Historic Action Adventure Short Story !
This chapter from my upcoming epic novel features the greatest men and women players from the Golden Age of Golf on a world tour of the most fantastic holes ever imagined! It is an exotic blend of Indiana Jones action and pulp fiction adventure laced with mystery and romance.

Chapter 13
Bog-Man of Loch Ness
Inverness, Scotland
Hole 12
The Old Gaelic Golf Country Club and the clubhouse from Hell awaited the Americans. Very soon, the players and the hostess were gathered outside of the ancient clubhouse. The rich hostess Deaconess Adrianne had hired the whole course for the day.
Score Keeper Lexi lifted her head high as she began, "The next hole on the world golf tour is 876 yards long and a par 5. The Old Man's Cairn actually looks like a green giant lying on his funeral pyre. The rolling hills resemble the dead gargantuan man in eternal repose.
The tee on this sloped hillock is his bald head. The long fairway begins with his barrel chest. It divides into two strong arms separated by that copse of trees. The giant's pot belly splits into tree trunk legs on either side of a shallow ravine. And the feet rest upon the footstool of the splendid green."
For the benefit of their hostess, Dixie added smoothly, "This is the crown jewel of the Old Gaelic Golf Country Club golf course. The sheer breadth and length is daunting to the sanest of players. These hills are alive. I dare say that every player will give a prayer of thanks when he tops the final hill and then sees the grand clubhouse."
On the fairway, the players kept having spooky flashbacks from the haunted round last night. The bull frogs croaking made the women jump. A snake in the grass made the men squeal. The crowd began to laugh at the silly Americans and their incomprehensible fears.
A deep mud puddle was mistaken for the man-eating bog monster. Willie swore that he saw bubbles rising from its murky depths. It turned out to be just gas escaping from the airy loam.
The players' nerves were on edge. Every lie was a stumper. Each player faced a hill that blocked his view of the green. What should have been a simple chip shot, turned into a game of blind man's bluff.