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In nineteen ninety nine, my brother
and I were living in the Honey Lake

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Valley in the High Desert region of
northern California. From our properties, situated

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on Highway three ninety five north,
we had a clear view of that beautiful

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and huge natural lake. We could
also see the nearby Sierra Army Depot,

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where an unceasing flow of Sea one
thirty military aircraft provided us with endless entertainment.

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Every evening, six days a week. We got up early, made

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our coffee, and headed to town, where we put in long hours working

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to make a go of our floor
cleaning business. Naturally, we reserved Sundays

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for church and family gatherings. But
in the evenings, sitting in our yard,

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far from the noises and hassles of
the world, we watched the distant

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planes coming in and going at the
depot and talked about whatever came to mind.

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It was peaceful. Even when the
conversation lagged or we lost interest.

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In the plains, there was always
the Milky Way. The sky in that

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remote location was clearer brighter than it
was anywhere else. That's why that Saturday

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night, when we sat out there
a little longer than usual, I thought

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it was so odd that the army
depot was getting more difficult to see.

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I asked my brother if he was
having the same problem or if it was

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just my eyes. He said he
thought a fog was forming across the lake

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and moving our way. Within five
minutes, this fog had spread from the

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depot across the entire valley and up
our mountain, stopping several hundred feet before

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it got to us. It covered
the highway and we neither saw nor heard

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any sounds from the diesels. Then
a bright round light appeared to our right,

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moving towards us at our elevation.
My brother thought it might be a

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car on the three ninety five,
but I pointed out that we were one

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thousand feet above the highway, moving
towards our left at what we judged to

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be around sixty miles an hour.
It flew to the mountain so quickly we

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both thought it was going to crash
into the north face. Just before contact,

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however, it abruptly stopped and hovered
motionless. A moment later, another

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orb appeared from the same direction,
followed the trajectory of the first light,

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and stopped just as suddenly beside it. In front of the mountain. Then

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another light, and another, and
another, until seven lights lined up equidistance

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apart in front of the mountain.
We sat in silence, our own bodies

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equally still as we watched. We
knew something was going to happen, we

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just didn't know what. A new
light appeared, now, this time from

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within the mountain. It became larger
and brighter as it slowly grew into an

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opening. A brilliant, blinding light
flooded the hillside until finally it stood fully

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agape, almost beckoningly, patiently waiting. One by one, the seven smaller

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lights crossed into the gateway and vanished
inside. Then, with an almost deliberate

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sluggishness, the hole resealed itself,
shrinking and extinguishing the light until no evidence

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remained of its existence. Neither of
us said a word. It was just

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amazing. A few minutes later,
the fog also receded, the traffic lights

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from the highway could be seen again, and life returned a normal. A

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week later, we reported the incident
to the National UFO Reporting Center. When

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I was nine, my sister and
I, along with two of our aunts

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who were our age, decided to
explore a concrete ditch that ran alongside my

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great grandmother's house near Memphis. We
used a rope to propel down and then

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walked along until we came to a
cover. We looked inside, but couldn't

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see daylight from the other end,
just a black, empty space. I

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wanted to explore this cave like structure
and maybe get a good scare on the

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girls at the same time, as
kids will do. I dared them to

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go in to see who would go
the farthest or stay the longest. They

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dared me back, and with pride
on the line and no one wanting to

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be the one who chickened out,
we all stepped inside. The eerie feeling

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we all had was overpowering. I
was certain the girls wouldn't last long in

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this environment and I would surely win. After fifty yards, one of my

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aunts said, Jim, what's that. I look deeper into the darkness,

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and I saw a set of glowing
red eyes walking in our direction. A

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reason that it must be a cat
or a dog, and that the eyes

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were catching the light from the opening
behind us. But I also knew that

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if I made it out to be
bigger than it was, the girls would

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run and I'd win. I was
done exploring this place anyway. I just

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needed to turn the fear up a
little bit and I would be the victor.

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It was working. The closer the
eyes got, the more frightening they

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became. And then I noticed that
whatever was connected to those eyes was getting

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bigger and bigger. I think it
was on all fours at first, and

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then it began to stand up.
Okay, I thought dogs and cats don't

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walk on two legs. That was
when my sister and ants gave up the

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ghost. They spun around and they
ran screaming from the cave, yelling back

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to me to run. I just
stood there. I guess I was waiting

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for them to get further away.
I knew I could outrun them, and

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I didn't want one of them to
get hurt. I just kept standing there,

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hoping to stall it or something.
I waited longer than I should have,

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and it came at me, quickly, overtaking me. As I ran

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backwards towards the entrance, I could
hear the girl screaming somewhere behind me,

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and I screamed back for them to
get help. This thing so tall it

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had to stand hunched over to keep
from hitting its head on the ceiling of

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the covert towered over me, shrouding
me in the heavy mist of its breath

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and stench of its fur, and
it glared down at me. I'm dead,

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I thought. I stood still,
and my eyes were closed. My

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arms and legs were shaking, and
I was waiting to become this thing's next

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meal. And then it made a
rattling noise, almost like a coup or

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a purr. The fear started to
subside. I found it in me to

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start backing away, slowly at first, and then a little faster. When

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I backed far enough, I turned
and bolted as fast as I could,

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and I hit daylight like a runner
breaking through a ribbon. At the end

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of the race, the girls were
up ahead, scurrying up a rope that

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we'd use to climb down. I
grabbed it and pulled myself to safety.

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I was frantic to get away from
this thing. I wasn't sure if I

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was going to make it. We
ran to our parents, hysterically, telling

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them about the culvert, the red
eyes, and the four legged animal that

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stood up on two feet. You
stay out of that ditch, was all

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they said. They didn't believe us. Years later, I must have been

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thirteen or fourteen. It was carnival
time in Memphis. The Mid South Fair

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was a big deal and I went
every year. A couple of weeks before

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it started, I checked out a
book at the library that was all about

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the lock Ness Monster and other cryptids. After my experience, I was fascinated

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with this subject. In the back
of the book was a story and a

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picture of the Patterson Gimlin Bigfoot.
My jaw dropped at the sight, even

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though I'd been too afraid to look
up that day in the culvert, it

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seemed like this is what I had
seen. It made me wonder how many

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people have ever seen these things,
and without any form of reference, they

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just never knew what they were looking
at. That year at the fair,

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the freak show was boasting one particular
exhibit claiming to be a dead bigfoot on

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ice. Most people don't remember or
maybe even know that until recently, as

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the nineteen eighties, freak shows were
a common element of carnivals, fairs,

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and circuses around the world. These
attractions were always fakes, a mix of

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plaster, makeup, costume, and
lighting designed to extract money from the fairgoer's

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pocket and nothing else. I had
no doubt that the bigfoot behind this curtain

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was as fake as the mermaid behind
the next. Curiosity got the best of

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me, though, and I paid
for my ticket and I went in to

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have a look. The first thing
I noticed was the smell. It was

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bad. I looked around and I
saw others holding their noses. I recognized

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it. Looking at this thing,
I began to reason with myself it had

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to be fake. If a man
had shot it, he'd be in jail.

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This thing is just a big,
hairy humanoid. I focused on the

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bullet wound visible in its chest.
It all looked too real. Well,

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my time was up and I had
to move on, but what I had

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seen was disturbing. I couldn't forget
it. The next year, the fair

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was back, and I was still
obsessed. This year, I brought a

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magnifying glass with the hope that the
Bigfoot exhibit would be there. I was

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not disappointed. First, I examined
the bullet wound. I could clearly see

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through the ice and the jagged tear
where it had entered the creature's chest.

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It all looked very real. Its
skin appeared to have poorers, the hair

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seemed to sprout from individual follicles.
There was dirt under the fingernails and toenails.

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It was even quite obviously a male. I would pay to see this

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thing three more times that year.
The next year it was back, and

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so was I. This time,
I'd used a set of medical encyclopedias to

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familiarize myself with the effects of gunshot
wounds, dermal layers, hair growth,

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and anything else I could learn about
anatomy that might prove this to be a

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fake. On the other hand,
I also studied makeup artistry and prosthetics.

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Again, I paid to see the
thing multiple times, and again I could

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not find a flaw. Even the
fingernails and the toenails had lateral ridges with

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cuticles. I'm convinced it was real.