I have an email from Aaron. This is a really, really good story.
I'll listen to your story today about people being abducted in Canada, and
I have growing concerns about how it relates to my son. As you will
hear from what I'm about to tell you, I think these bigfoot critters have
an unhealthy attraction to him. We lived in West Virginia when all of this
began, and my son was only four years old at the time. His
name is Andy. It was during December of twenty twenty and Andy came out
of his room with his boots and his coat on. I asked him where
he was going, and he told me that a boy named Jimmy was outside
and wanted to play. I was shocked that Andy would even think that we
would let him out after dark, but like a great dad, I told
him to his ass back in bed. The next morning was a Saturday,
and I was off work from home depot, sitting at the kitchen table enjoying
a cup of coffee before I started my chores. Andy came out of his
room, which is when I asked him to tell me more about this Jimmy
character. He went into this story where he said Jimmy comes to his window
each night knocks on the glass to wake him up, and I asked where
Jimmy lived, and who his parents were, and all the pertinent information required
of a parent trolling his kid's social life. Andy told me that he didn't
really know. My curiosity was now leaning toward Andy having an imaginary friend until
I asked him to describe what his buddy looked like. Well, he's big
and he's black. Andy muttered that was the only description he ever gave us,
and we really didn't know what to say about it, or even to
believe him, as he was only four years old. We lived back in
the country and most people wouldn't come near these homes for fear of being shot
or eaten by a dog. Well, one morning, Andy came out of
his room with a fifth sized piece of quartz, and he asked if his
beauty rock would be worth anything. He said Jimmy had given it to him
in the night after Andy had swapped him a kazoo. The next morning,
Andy was excited to tell us that he had traded Jimmy and Apple for a
neat bracelet that was made out of vines. At that point, the situation
between our four year old and his mysterious friend was getting out of hand.
For all we knew this Jimmy was a child predator. I decided that I
was going to sit in my truck all night watch Andy's windows. But by
morning nothing had happened. Andy didn't know that I had been camped out in
my truck and waiting for Jimmy to make his appearance. He had left oranges
in the window sill that were still there. I told my wife that she
had Andy would have a camp out in the living room that night, where
they could make a tent from the blankets and keep themselves entertained by toasting marshmallows
on the stove. I loaded up my eight seventy with buck shot and deer
slugs. After placing an apple on the window ledge and making the bed look
like Andy was under the covers and sound asleep, I dimmed the lights and
I hid inside the closet with the door cracked open just enough to see from
the window to the bed. It had been several hours until almost midnight when
I heard the window quietly slide open. I saw two black hens reach in
and grab the apple. I sat there patiently, like you would turkey hunting
in the woods, waiting for that gobbler to pop his head around an old
oak tree when you know you've got the opportunity to take a shot. A
large black arm reached all the way into the room and toward Andy's bed,
and I cut loose with the first round of buckshot, and then immediately with
a second shot of deer slug. I wasn't messing around. I was intending
on killing the intruder right then and there, knee jerk's arm back and taking
out the entire window and glass flying all directions. As I fired the third
round, I must have hit him, because he let out a whale that
made me drop my shotgun and cover my ears. My wife called the police.
About thirty minutes later, I had a house full of officers questioning me
and my wife while another group was taking blood and hair samples from Andy's room.
They took all three of us to the state Police headquarters and they grilled
us separately for hours. I kept telling them that while they were wasting time
holding us, they were letting some dude get away that was trying to kidnap
our son. They offered a stock answer that I had just shot at someone,
and they were conducting their investigation. It was all standard procedure. A
few hours passed before two men came into the interrogation room. One had a
manner that oozed government official with his plain black suit and white shirt and black
tie. A bigger dude was in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt.
The suit took a seat across the table from me and informed me that
the blood and hair recovered from the scene belonged to a black bear, and
pending any new evidence, we were otherwise free to go. That wasn't a
bear, I protested. The bigger man hammered the table with his hands and
threatened me with a night in jail if I didn't accept their findings. They
had me over a barrel because of their authority. I collected my family and
I headed home. I called some friends, including an old friend named Chuck,
who had six of the best bear dogs in the state. They were
there waiting for me when the state police dropped us off. I grabbed one
of my buddy's rifles from his truck. Since our wonderful police force took possession
of all my firearms for the time being, I'd have to file acclaim to
have them returned. Chuck turned loose his hounds, but they jumped back into
his truck, and they dove inside their kennels, and he tried to pull
them out by the collar, but they would not budge. They wanted no
part of tracking the so called bear. The rest of us followed the blood
trail for twenty five minutes until it came to a creek. The day was
turning dark, so we rode off the rest of the search as a bust,
and we headed for the house. We all had a couple of beers,
and I recounted my story from the evening before showing them Andy's bedroom covered
with the intruder's dried blood, minus the hair, which the police had collected
and removed. One of the guys sounded off as suggested that it had been
a bigfoot. Shortly thereafter, they left, and Andy came out of my
room looking upset. He told me that Jimmy's friends were mad and they were
going to hurt us. How do you know that, I asked him.
Andy pointed to his ears. I can hear them. He told me.
They talked to me from a child's lips. I thought I was suddenly terrified
for my family. I drove us to my parents' place fifty miles away that
night. I rented a moving truck the following day and I called my landlord
and I tried to convince him that the house wasn't safe and that's why I
was breaking the lease. We were loaded up and gone by noon. I
found us a new home in Ohio, just north of the Ohio River.
Living there, I could still keep my job at home Depot. I still
needed the income and the benefits. A few months passed without incident until one
day Andy came out of the living room with his coat and shoes on.
My new friend, Steve wants to show me a special place, and he
needs me to meet him behind the garage, said Andy. I had my
pistol and my spotlight and was out that door in a flash. I shined
my light across every end of the place, and I didn't see anything.
But the next morning I discovered two large tracks outside Andy's window. That's time
I took the family to my in laws house at East Tennessee. It wasn't
the most comfortable place to live, but I knew that my father in law
had enough firepower to defend my wife and child, and would no doubt do
so with his dying breath. I found a new job and we were looking
for a home that spring when my wife saw Andy start waving at something beyond
the tree line. Andy was excited that someone who looked like Jimmy wanted to
play with him in the woods. We had just about convinced Andy over the
past year to stop engaging with these creatures whose voices he kept here in his
head. That evening we were on the road again, our fourth move in
just over a year. We found a home inside the city of Savannah,
Georgia. We currently live in a suburb where there isn't even a rosebush planted
on the block, let alone a tree. Now I worry about my son
and what could happen to him if we're not there to stop him venturing out
someplace where he believes these beasts are waiting for him. Always dreamed of teaching
my son to fish and hunt the same way my father taught me. But
I can't see us camping or going into the wilderness until all of this gets
resolved one way or another. I don't want my son to grow up a
country boy trapped in a city what do they want with him? Are they
really talking to him through telepathy? I have so many questions and I don't
understand. I'm just a father on the edge. Wow. I have never
ever gotten a story anything like this. Nothing I've ever gotten approaches this.
But if you guys have any suggestions, and I hope he hears this and
reads the comments giving some suggestions on what you think he should do as far
as the story goes, this was awesome, brother. I mean, this
is one awesome story. But I know you have a problem on your hands,
and I really really hope you get it worked out. I'll be thinking
about you and keep us posted after the story. After this story is uploaded,
if anything interesting happens, please keep in touch. I appreciate it.
Thanks for the story, Aaron. Okay, here's an email from Robert.
This is a good one too. He writes, Hello, Dixie Crypted.
My name is Robert. I'm thirty seven years old and I live in southern
Ohio. I've been here my whole life. I don't care if you share
my name because that's not important, but it is important as letting people know
that these encounters are real. I have two authentic experiences that I would love
to share with you all. I always wanted to get my experiences out there.
Everyone I've told so far thinks I'm crazy, but I don't care.
It's the truth. And I know what happened to shear as water is wet.
So let me tell you what happened. My first encounter was when I
was eight or nine years old. I was living in mount Or of Ohio,
about forty miles east of Cincinnati. It's a small town where everyone knows
everyone. Well, that's how it used to be. With everything growing the
way it is, that old town Field is just the thing of the past,
it seems. I was up late waiting for my mother to come home.
I patiently waited at the bay window with my blanket wrapped around me,
and silently prayed that my mother would come on home. And all of a
sudden, I saw a light coming down the road from my right, heading
west toward our driveway. My heart leaped with joy that I thought my mom
was coming home. But the light slowly crawled toward the drive and then completely
stopped. I thought that was weird, like why she stopping in the middle
of the road. Maybe I was seeing things and it was just a street
lamp. I thought it was like the light heard my thoughts and then started
heading west again towards the driveway. Once it reached the drive it turned into
the driveway, and I thought my mother's car had a headlight out, but
no. Sooner that that crossed my mind, this light went from the end
of our fifty yard driveway and it flew up to the bay window. I
was standing in faster than I've ever seen anything move. The light was so
bright that I cannot explain it. It was brighter than the sun, yet
there was no heat. I remember grabbing my head and closing my eyes and
I completely blacked out. And then I came to, and I don't know
how much longer I had passed out. I felt like I was put into
my dresser drawer by my big brothers. I had no recollection of how I
got here, and no other ideas made sense of where I was. So
I screamed and I screamed, and then I passed out again. And when
I woke up back in my bed with my covers over me, waking up
to the most beautiful morning than I can ever remember all my life, I
have no idea what happened. All I know is that one of the two
scariest moments of my life, and I really contemplated the idea of being hypnotized
so that maybe I can see what really happened. I had a girlfriend and
she said that maybe I shouldn't do that. There's a reason I don't remember,
and it would probably make things worse. Well, I'm not sure.
All I know is I have so much anxiety writing this that I'm so locked
in that it's my fingers are on the autopilot typing so fast now. I
don't want to push religion on any one. But it was either aliens or
an angel sent to comfort me when I was longing for my mother. I'm
not sure. Maybe they're the one and the same. All I know is
that whenever you or anyone sees one of these orbs of light and you're by
yourself, be careful and go the other way. Just don't get its attention.
I think this orb that came to me or one and the same of
the kind that killed all of those Russian hikers back in nineteen fifty nine.
I think that area is called the Dietloft Pass incident. Most mountains and deserts
have high frequency visits of these light orb things. My point is as they
are not to be messed with. Years later, I would have another odd
experience. When I was thirty five years old, I lived in the village
of New Richmond, Ohio. It's twenty miles east of Cincinnati. I was
living in an old building that used to be an old doctor's office. I
remember going there as a child. When I moved into this place, it
was like a sober living home, and many people lived here and came and
went in their lives, doing the next right thing until they were on their
feet and could move out. I was completely sober when these occurrences happened,
and it really opened my eyes to the paranormal, especially the dark side of
it. In about three AM, I woke with sleep paralysis. This has
never happened to me until I moved into this house. I could not move,
and I was hearing door knobs rattled in the hallway right outside of my
room. And I fought the fear and I went back to sleep, thinking
I'm a grown man. Whatever this is, it can't hurt me. I
asked my roommate if he heard it the following day and he said he didn't.
A few weeks later, my old roommate had moved out and an old
buddy of mine moved in the room that I was in, and late that
night I woke again and I was under a sleep paralysis once again. I
heard a noise that sounded out of place, but it sounded human, like
someone gasping or moaning. Finally, I sat up and I said, dude,
what are you doing. He looked at me like I was crazy,
and he said it wasn't him, and he proceeded to laugh at me.
I didn't find it funny that he didn't hear it, and I did something
was not right here. A week or two went by and I was in
bed and sleep paralysis hit me again. Had the worst feeling of dread come
over me. Every night I woke, and it was around witching hour between
two and three am. This feeling wouldn't shake and I couldn't move a muscle.
The next thing that I heard is someone is running up to me with
their feet pounding on the floor all the way up to my bed. While
I was able to move once, it seemed like whatever it was made it
to my bed. I was really scared. My eyes were tearing up as
I righted this out. Anyway, A few weeks later, we were watching
a horror movie and some guy made a pentagram on the floor with blood and
he called on Satan. I tell these guys that we shouldn't be watching this
because it opens up doors. And I was right. That night, sleep
paralysis gripped me again, and that feeling of fear and dread gripped my soul.
I fought to get my hands in a praying position, and I rolled
to my left to face the window and get away from the dark hallway where
it felt like it was coming from. I began to pray our Father,
who art in heaven, how I'd be thy name, And that was as
far as I got. When something yelled in my right ear, God can't
save you. That was when the paralysis was lifted. I was so scared
and I began to tear up. This was some dark stuff. Possession starts
like that. They start small, like noises, and build up to overwhelm
you and try to take your soul. It was a scary thing I've ever
been through. The last thing that happened was a week or so later.
I woke between two and three am once again had to use the bathroom.
It was directly across the hall. I went to the bathroom and when I
was done, I stepped out into the hallway and closed the bathroom door.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and a black shadow figure darker than dark,
stepped up to me, face to face. Once again, I could
not move. I could feel the evil coming off of this thing. I
guess my faith is strong, because it stood there and stepped into the shower
room. And then I ran and jumped into bed like a little kid,
and I pulled the blanket up over my head. It was a shadow entity.
I think it was a demon. I asked around, and other people
have seen it walking the hall at night. That was enough for me.
I moved out of that place. It was the scariest thing that has ever
happened to me, including what happened to me as a kid. This thing
was a dark, malevolent being that haunted me. My father and my grandmother
saw spirits. My family is Cherokee, and I got the gift, as
they would call it. I call it a curse. I've always seen spirits
in my peripheral vision, but never straight on like these two times. I've
never seen another entity like this. But let me tell you that I'm almost
thirty eight years old and I sleep with some kind of light on every night,
even if it's just myself un lit up. It has given me PTSD
because I know that there are things out in the dark that won our souls.
Anyone that I have told these encounters too thinks that I'm nuts, but
I'm telling the truth. Now, y'all be safe out there and keep your
faith in God. He's real and he'll protect you and when you need him.
Thank you for sharing my experiences. Sincerely, Robert. Well, Robert,
I feel bad for are you that you're having to deal with these demons
man, But I'll tell you this, and like you, I'm not trying
to bring religion into this, but if you belong to Christ, you're perfectly
safe. They're not going to touch anything that belongs to him. So stay
close to the Lord and I would just try to live my life and do
the best you could. I doubt you'll ever see him again. I appreciate
the story and I'm glad you got it off your chest. Okay, here's
an email from Jill. This is really interesting. She writes, my first
sasquatch encounter happened in nineteen sixty nine, the summer of my eleventh birthday.
A group of my girlfriends and I were discussing riding our bikes out to Hood
Canal on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. One of the families had property
on the canal and they had an old canvas tent permanently pitched there, with
a fire pit and a floating dock that you could swim off of. I
really wanted to go on this adventure. It took me a whole week to
talk my mom and dad into it. They were worried because there were not
being any adults, just five young teens and two eighteen year olds leading the
trip, but they reluctantly agreed to let me go with the stipulation that I
called them from the payphone at the store when we got there and each day
after well. I eagerly agreed and I started packing. The plan was to
stay four days and three nights. We lived near faunt Leroy Ferry Dark in
West Seattle, and we had to ride our bikes to Alki Point to get
to the Bremerton Ferry that launched from the waterfront and downtown Seattle. Once we
stepped off, we had to ride our bikes to the south end of hood
canal the side of the camp. The others had ten speed bikes, while
I was one of the few kids who only had a three speed, and
we were carrying our heavy backpacks and I brought up the or the pack.
We finally reached the family's property. It was cooling, shady, and it
was full of trees and undergrowth, with a single trail going down the center
of the property. That was where the canvas tent stood with the picnic table
and a barbecue pit. The trail continued to the canals, which had a
beach that was half rock and half sand, and we were so happy when
we finally arrived, dripping in sweat and exhausted, and we threw our packs
in the tent. We headed straight to go swimming in the salt water to
cool off from the ride. This canal was full of oysters, which I
really love eating oysters. I would dive down and bring up oysters and set
them on the dock and dive down for more. I would use my t
shirt like a kangaroo's pouch, gathering up the oysters and swimming over to the
shore, where I would stockpile them in the shaded picnic area for our next
meal. I have never eaten so many oysters in all my life. It
was awesome. The last night of our trip, we gathered inside the tent.
It was starting to get dark. All of us splintered off into groups
and indulged in random pajama chatter. I was quietly lying on my side atop
my sleeping bag with my ear to the ground, and I started to feel
the vibration of heavy footsteps coming down the trail that went through the center of
the property. Whatever it was it was coming toward us. I nudged my
friend next to me, but to my amazement, she rolled over and went
back to sleep. The others in the tent were passed out and snoring.
It was the end result of a day full of outdoor activity. My heart
started to race with excitement and nervousness, and I peered through the netting of
the tent and I saw two dark figures resembling a sasquatch. One loomed over
the other the way apparent what a small child, while the one I presumed
was the mother stood outside our tent door. Her baby went over to the
picnic table and rummaged through the oyster shells, turning them over in its hands
and discarding the remains onto the ground. After a few minutes, the little
one walked back over to the mother and they both quietly turned and they left
our campsite. I had actually seen a bigfoot and its offspring. And even
if my travel companions had snoozed through my encounter and no doubt would not believe
me. In the morning, I felt the experience was a tremendous gift.
I was the first one up and out of my tenth The next day,
my father had taught me how to track, and I wanted to see if
there were any footprints in the soil. I found two sets in the dirt,
one large and one small. I followed them over to the road where
the trail disappeared. There are some people who claim that Sasquatch have powers of
telepathy. I don't know the lifespan of a bigfoot, but I swear I've
had instances where I've communicated with the mama Sasquatch. I encountered over fifty years
ago as an excitable eleven year old on a camping trip with my friends.
Oh that's a cool story. Now, how could that happen? I hear
about Bigfoot being telepathic, but I don't know how that works. I mean,
do you just hear a voice in your head or do you just have
a feeling or what is it? It's very interesting that these people seem to
connect telepathically to the Sasquatch. Somebody explained that to me. I don't know
how that works. Why would Sasquatch have the ability to do that? I
think these are all rational questions anybody would have, but it's a real interesting
concept. Man. I'm not sure I wouldn't like to experience that myself.
But thank you very much for the story, Jill. This was an excellent
story as a happy story, and I really appreciate it. Thank you.
Here's a story from Kate and she is in my state. She lives in
my state, Mississippi. She writes, I'm from Dixie, Mississippi. My
dad has always spoken about Bigfoot. My dad, along with my aunt and
a few other family members, used to go sit on a long winding road
in De Soto National Forest near Camp Shelby that was barely wide enough for two
cars to pass each other. On each side of the road was a strip
of grass. Beyond that was dense woods. We would sit and listen until
the early hours of the morning while my dad whistled and called and talked and
tried to get a response from Bigfoot. The road must have been a mile
or so long, but there was a curve that we couldn't see beyond from
where we parked. The only street light on the whole road stood at a
curve. I would sit and stare at that light, believing that at any
minute it was going to happen. One was going to step out of the
woods, right under the dim glow of that old light and into our field
of view. But that never happened. But something else did. One night,
as usual, we were sitting and calling when everyone's attention was brought to
the side of the road. Maybe it was a noise, or maybe it
was a feeling. Everyone stopped talking and we all turned and looked. Every
light shined to the same little rise. It wasn't big enough to be called
a hill. It was only three feet tall, and above that I saw
what looked like a cone shaped head with solid black hair on it, sticking
up over the top. As soon as I saw that. It occurred to
me that I was the only one without a light, and fear struck me
like a lightning bolt. I was only a child, I think I was
thirteen, and stuck in the dark side of the road, with our park
hard between me and the place where the animal was. All the adults had
all these lights and all of their attention on one spot. My dad wouldn't
let me come around to the other side of the car with that creature there.
I knew that without asking. He was a stern man, but I
never had to be whooped by him. A simple look would always do it.
In my mind, while everyone was looking at the show on the opposite
side of the road, something was going to come out of the woods on
our side, and I would be there alone and defenseless against it. I
pressed the entire backside of my body against the back passenger door of the car,
and I stared into the inky blackness of woods in front of me,
and I silently pleaded that nothing would come get me. There was no way
I was going to make a sound. My dad would have done me in
if I'd have scared that creature off. I wish I could say what happened
after that, because I don't remember clearly. We all got in the car
and we left at some point. As far as I can remember, nothing
came out of the woodsy side of the car. But I don't think I've
ever felt such a cold and lonely fear before or since. We spent a
lot of nights out on that road. Many times we heard whistles, a
couple of times we heard footfalls, but we never had anything as groundbreaking as
a full on sighting. I called the BFR when finding bigfoot was popular,
though, and they came out to do an investigation, and that was exciting.
Years later, we were all at my Big Mamas for Sunday dinner and
sitting around playing board games when someone brought up the subject of that road and
all the times we'd go out there and sit and listen. It was then
that my aunt told me about a man who died on that road. I
was as much a true crime junkie as I was a bigfoot addict, so
this was a perfect story for me. She reminded me of the old wooden
cross by where we used to sit at night, and the story that this
man used to go out there and do the same thing that we used to
do. Well. One night, he and a friend were sitting out there
in their long chairs. He had a gun stuck in the chest pocket of
his overalls. He knew that they didn't like guns. And suddenly they heard
something and then they saw something. Nobody really knows what they saw, but
it spooked the man. He tried to draw his pistol out of his pocket,
and he accidentally shot himself in the chest. His friend called an ambulance
when they got there. Everyone on the scene could hear something running back and
forth inside the woodlines, screaming that horrible, gut wrenching scream. The ambulance
driver wouldn't even get out. The man's friend had to help load him into
the ambulance. The man died, and the cross was put there to memorialize
him. Well. I was so intrigued by that story that I asked for
more information on this road. I couldn't imagine anyone living there, but my
aunt said that there was an old black lady who left all the way down
at the end of it, and that her windows were all covered up with
aluminum full You couldn't prove it by me. I wouldn't drive a tank down
that road. Of course, she's probably gone by now. At a recent
family gathering, my fiance and I were talking with my uncle about the road
and I brought up the story of the man who died there. I honestly
believe that my uncle believes in Bigfoot, but no man around here is going
to tell his niece or any woman that Bigfoot is real. I finished with
the story, and right away he said, oh no, that was a
setup. Bigfoot is not real. What. I couldn't believe what he said.
And then he went on to say that his friends kill that man and
cooked up a Bigfoot story to cover it up. I don't know which version
of the story is more believable. I believe in Bigfoot and I always will.
But there's some pretty rough characters in the backwoods around here who might have
found Bigfoot to be a convenient scapegoat for their own misdeeds. Oh my goodness,
what a great story, Kate. It's funny. I don't know.
Yes, we do have rough characters that live back in these woods, especially
in the Delta well up in the hills too. There's just some, you
know, it's kind of I don't it's hard to describe. There are some
rough people who live in this state, and I can see somebody making up
a bigfoot story to cover up a crime. That makes perfect sense. But
here's the thing. This woman never saw a bigfoot. This is not really
a bigfoot story. But I appreciate you all so much for sending me such
a variety of stories. I get to get a little piece of everyone's imagination,
everyone's memories. A lot of these. This woman is talking about stuff
that happened years ago, and these are memories that stick with her, and
the way you all describe them is just so great. And I just love
the way you write. More than being able to put this up on a
podcast. I love reading them. I mean, I just love reading old
memories and stories people have, and sometimes I can identify it, like with
this woman, her and her family sitting out on that road waiting for Bigfoot
to come out on the road. Now, my family would have never done
that, but we used to go down. We'd we'd go down to old
ponds, you know, late in the afternoon in the summer, and we'd
sit in that hot summer sun or in the evening when the sun would start
to go down and into the night, we would just keep fishing. We'd
fish off the bank. Sometimes sometimes we'd get in a boat and paddle around
upon Sometimes we put in the river and we'd fished away after dark. I
just remember all those times and hearing you guys retell these stories brings back great
memories for me. And I'd love to sit around a camp fire or I
don't know, at a bar across the table from some of y'all and just
reminisce about some of the things we used to do in this part of the
country that we're so fun for us kids. And anyway, Kate, thank
you for this story. I loved it. I really appreciate you. Thank
you all for joining me on this podcast. I know I have been gone
for a little while. I could explain it, but it's kind of boring.
But I you know what, I have a lot of work right now,
and I do this podcast. I don't have to do this podcast,
and it's I've been doing it straight for almost five years now, and I
just took a break from the podcast. That's what I did. But today
I got up and I was raring to get back. And so I think
I've had a good vacation from the podcast, and I'm just gonna keep cranking
them out like I always have, two or three a week. Hopefully y'all
stay cool. It's gonna be hot this week. Supposed to be a hundred
degree is here today. I'm sitting here with my air conditioner. Also,
you can't hear it in this mic, so I'm gonna end this podcast so
I can turn my sweet air back on. All Right, you guys have
a good week, and we'll see you on the next one. Thanks.