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The house in the woods east of
Lebanon, Missouri, June fifth, nineteen

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eighty five. In the summer of
nineteen eighty five, we found the house

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in the woods. My friend and
I decided to backpack into the woods near

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his home in the Missouri countryside.
We were both armed. I was a

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twelve gate shotgun and Rich with a
rugor ten twenty two semi auto twenty two

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caliber rifle. We figured on shooting
a squirrel or two while we were hiking.

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We must have walked a few miles
when we cut across this old,

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overgrown trail in the woods. It
was still early in the day and we

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hadn't had any luck with the squirrels, so we thought we might explore the

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trail. That was the entire point
of the expedition anyway, to check out

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the land in the area. We
had never gone into the woods on that

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land, since it was pretty tangled
up. It was not an easy place

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to hike, but we figured that
deer and squirrels would be plentiful. We

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weren't sure who the land belonged to, but everyone in the area thought it

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was a government land. There was
no conservation signs or signs to warn off

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trespassers. It was just a four
strand barbed wire fence that had seen better

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days. That was all the imitation
a couple of curious country kids needed.

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We both had backpacks and a couple
of blowney sandwiches, apiece and two canteens

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of water, our army surplus ponchos
in case it rained, and a first

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aid kit. Ritchie's mom insisted on
the first aid kit. We both had

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our deer hunting camouflage and we wore
Booney style military hats. When we first

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cut the trail, I asked Rich
if he had ever seen a gate or

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a road on the land anywhere.
Said he couldn't remember seeing anything like that,

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so we figured it might have been
an old logging trail from the fifties.

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We noticed the trail to the left
went up hill, so we thought

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we'd start that way. I remember
noticing the place was eerily quiet, but

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I assumed Rich and I made so
much noise that we scared the animals off.

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We'd gone about a half a mile
on this old road when we found

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an old plow and we decided to
check it out. It was really old,

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and it was completely rusted and wooden. Handles mostly rotted away. The

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left side handle was broken off about
a foot from the end. It was

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the type of plow you pulled behind
a mule or a horse, not the

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one you pulled with a tractor.
And besides being old, it looked pretty

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good and it must have been in
excellent condition when it got left here.

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Richie said that we should return with
his dad's pickup and drag it to his

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house. It was clearly an antique. All we munched on a baloney sandwich

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and drank a little water. I
noticed that it was still quiet. Rich

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realized it too, and we started
to look around a bit. The woods

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were thick with a lot of brambles
and undergrowth, but the only sound beside

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us was the wind, and it
was spooky. We again started up the

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trail when we heard the sound up
ahead in the trees. It was a

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sort of a grunt or a snort, and I looked at rich and he

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smiled and said he thought it was
a buck. It wasn't deer season,

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so we decided to look and see
if it was a big enough buck to

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come back when the time came.
So we walked another half a mile or

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so without seeing the buck. When
we saw something in the tall grass ahead.

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It looked like a car, and
when we got closer you could tell

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it was an old junk car.
The body had rusted over and no paint

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remained on the thing. The interior
seats had rotted away, leaving only the

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metal springs, and none of the
glass was intact. Looks like Grandpa's old

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Chevy, I said, yeah,
but older, said Rich. Grandpa's Chevy

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was a fifty three and it was
still in excellent shape. Rich was right,

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though this one did look older.
The doors were still in place,

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and when we lifted the old hood, the engine was still there. All

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the old hoses and stuff were long
since gone, though it was just an

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old rust heap. We heard that
grunt or snort again, but only this

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time it was behind us and closer
now. I grabbed the shotgun and turned

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to look, but we couldn't see
a dang thing. The tangles were so

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thick that it could have been fifty
feet away and we would have never seen

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it go on, Get yelled Rich. We figured we'd hear the sounds of

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a deer running off through the woods, but we only heard the wind.

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This is starting to give me the
creeps, Rich, I said, this

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place is too quiet. Oh,
come on, he replied, let's go

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a little further and see what we
find. We found the plow and now

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the car. Maybe there's an old
homestead around here. I shrugged, and

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we started up the trail, and
neither of us were talking, and by

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an unspoken agreement, I watched one
side of the road while Rich watched the

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other side. We hadn't gone more
than a quarter of a mile when we

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saw a house through the trees ahead. It was an old two story place,

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and the paint was gone and the
glass was missing from all the windows.

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The front porch roof hung almost to
the ground, and the front door

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hung off at an angle. Another
old, rusted car was in the tall

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grass near the house. It was
an old ford by the look of it.

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The barn had fallen in on itself
years ago, and there weren't any

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telephone poles around here, and that
meant they'd abandoned this place before there was

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electricity in the area, which was
in the forties. According to my dad,

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the place looked like it could have
been older than that, though Rich

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started toward the house and I grabbed
his arm. You aren't planning on going

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in that thing, are you?
I asked him, Well, sure,

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he said, Lord knows what we
might find in there. They left behind

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a plow in two cars. It's
no telling what else might be in there.

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Reluctantly I followed him. The porch
was pretty rotted and we had to

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watch our footing to get in the
door. The place was a wreck and

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one of those old wood cook stoves
was in the kitchen. There was a

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basin, but there was no faucet. Must be an old well with a

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pump around here somewhere, I said
quietly. Rich nodded and kept poking around.

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There were a few pieces of old
furniture, but it was all broken

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and rotted. The old cook stove
was in pretty good shape, but I

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bet it weighed four or five hundred
pounds. That stove was solid cast iron.

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In one room we saw animal scat. It was pretty big and in

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big piles. What kind of animal
dropped that? I asked, that's way

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too big for a coon or a
coyote. Well, it must be a

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cow or something, Rich said,
maybe a horse. Well I wasn't convinced,

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but I didn't argue. I couldn't
think of a thing that could do

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that and still fit in the door
of the house. It also smelled funny.

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It wasn't like deer scatter or horse
apples. I took out my honting

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knife and I poked into one of
the piles and in the scat with some

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hair and what looked like a tooth. Hey, rich this is a meat

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eater. You see this tooth and
there's hair in it too. Well,

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I heard there were bears in the
woods around here. That must be it,

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said rich shotgun or no shotgun.
A bear was not something I wanted

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to run into. I only had
squirrel shot, not slugs, and all

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I would do was make it mad. And the twenty two wasn't much better.

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My dad always said you could not
run a bear anyway. Come on,

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let's get out of here. I
think it's the best. We head

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toward home. Not yet, let's
check upstairs first. Oh man, I

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don't think that's a good idea.
This place looks like it could collapse.

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We might fall through the floor,
I said. Now, this old place

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is pretty solid. The porch is
shot, but the floors feel solid enough.

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Besides, it'll only take a minute, said rich Well slowly. I

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followed him up the old steep stairs. Unfortunately, he was right, they

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did feel pretty solid. Once up
the stairs, we both started looking around.

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The furniture up there was all gone. There was more scat up there,

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and it looked about the same as
the stuff downstairs. Hey, come

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check this out, called rich In
the next room we saw what looked to

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be a nest, only it was
bigger. It was made of long grass

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and leaves and woven with tree branches. There was more scat in this room,

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but none in the nest. There
were a few bones in it,

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though, and it looked like a
rabbit or a squirrel, some kind of

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small game. O'Neil to look at
the bones. And we heard a grunt

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or snort again, and this time
it was right outside the house and it

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was loud. It sounded angry,
and then something hit the side of the

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house hard enough that we felt the
floor shake. What the hell was that,

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I yelled, I don't know,
but it don't sound friendly, said

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rich A pointed the shotgun out the
window and let fly around. The loud

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boom of the twelve gage prompted another
snort or grunt, and then there was

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a growl and we heard something crashing
off through the tall grass and into the

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trees. We both took the stairs
as fast as we could, and we

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jumped out of the living room window
and we ran down the road past the

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old cars, and we didn't stop
until we reached the old plow. And

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when we got there, we stopped
to catch our breath. What in the

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hell was that? I asked,
gulping air down. Not only knows,

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man, Rich replied, but whatever
it was, it sure didn't take too

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kindly to us being up in that
old house. I was just about to

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open my mouth to reply when I
rock the size of a bowling ball flew

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out of the trees and slammed into
the plow blade right next to us,

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and it bounced up and it knocked
Ritchie off the plow where he was sitting

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on the handle. Right then came
the most horrendous roar from the trees.

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It sounded like a lion or something
like it, but it was just inside

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the tree line. The roar lasted
for a good ten seconds, and while

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it was roaring, I couldn't do
anything but stare at the tree line where

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the sound was coming from. And
when it stopped, I grabbed Rich and

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pulled him to his feet. Can
you walk, I asked, Hell,

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no, I can't walk, he
replied, I'm going to run. The

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noise came from the trees about that
time, as if something was tearing up

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the brush. Limbs were breaking and
cracking, and Rich leveled IS twenty two

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at the area and fired off three
rounds. The sharp crack of the rounds

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going off must have scared it,
because the sound stopped and we could hear

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something tearing off through the trees.
We took off like rabbits down the trail,

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heading for the spot where we could
cut a trail, and it didn't

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take long to make it, and
we stopped there because neither of us was

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in any hurry to go into those
trees. We would have to go through

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the woods for a few miles to
get home. We listened for any sounds

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or signs of whatever we'd heard back
at the plow, and after a couple

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of minutes, when we hadn't heard
anything, we decided to go for it.

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We heard a sound from back toward
the plow as we entered the trees,

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and it sounded like someone banging wood
against wood, and at not three

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times, and we heard it again
after a few seconds, only from the

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other side of us, deeper into
the trees. By this point, we

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were so scared that we couldn't even
talked to each other. I've been in

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out of the woods my entire life
and never experienced anything like this. Neither

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had Rich and we kept up a
quick pace in the thick underbrush, and

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we hadn't gone far when we heard
that roar again, and it was close.

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I turned to point my twelve gage
in that direction and I fired off

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around and the boom of the shotgun
was almost deafening in the thick woods.

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Instead of running off like before,
it roared again and started throwing tree branches

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at us. Rich and I got
a pretty good look at it, but

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just for a few seconds, and
it was about ten yards away and looked

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like a giant man, only he
was covered in black hair from head to

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foot. The face looked more like
a gorilla than a man, with black

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skin and not much of a neck, and the head looked pointed, and

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it was not a cone or anything. It was just like it sloped backwards

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to the back of its head.
It was kind of like the hood on

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a poncho. And it was big
too. It must have been close to

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seven feet tall and had a massive
chest and arms like a bodybuilder. Rich

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fired at it with the twenty two, and we're sure he hit it because

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it grunted and disappeared into the trees. There wasn't any sound of it running

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off, so we knew it had
just taken cover. And we started getting

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branches tossed at us from the other
side about that time, and without even

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looking, I fired off the shotgun
that way and we heard whatever it was

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crashing into the thicker trees. Rich
and I decided that it would be a

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good idea to move faster. And
this went on for quite a bit,

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with one side tossing rocks or sticks
until we fired off our guns and then

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it would come from the other side. They're trying to get us to run

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out of ammo, Rich yelled,
well, I knew he was right,

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and it was working. I was
down to five rounds left for the shotgun,

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and Rich had two more magazines for
the twenty two. We were pretty

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close to panicking. We knew we
had to be close to the fence where

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we first came into this property,
so we decided to make a break for

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it. I fired one way and
he fired the other and we started running,

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and instead of them running away,
it sounded like they were running after

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us. Looking back at it now, I think they knew that we were

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close to getting away, and the
undergrowth was stick and we knew that they

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could be right on top of us
before we could see them, so we

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just started firing blind well. He
emptied the magazine in the twenty two and

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I was pumping in my fourth round
into the chamber when we saw the fence.

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Richie dove over it and came up
to his feet. I wasn't much

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of a jumper, so I got
ready to climb through or over, and

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the crashing was right behind us,
so I tossed the shotgun over the fence

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to rich and he shouldered it and
aimed behind me, and I could see

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the look of terror on his face. I grabbed the fence started over,

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and that's when I felt something tug
at the back of my shirt. It

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only tugged for a second, and
rich fired the shotgun right over my shoulder

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and I planted my foot and I
flipped over the fence. I reached for

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the twenty two and pulled it off
the ground and got to my feet and

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rich fired off my last ground in
the shotgun, and we took off down

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the gravel road as fast as possible. We could still hear them crashing through

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the trees beside the road. Rich
and I switched guns while we ran,

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and we loaded his last magazine into
the twenty two. And the things in

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the trees kept getting closer, and
we were still more than a mile from

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Rich's house, and we knew there
was no way we were gonna make it.

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We were already exhausted and almost out
of AMMO. And then we heard

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a horn. One of Rich's neighbors
was coming up the road in his pickup.

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The sounds in the tree stopped as
the truck caught up with us,

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leaned out his window and he smiled
at us. You boys want to ride?

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He asked, well, yeah,
We shouted and jumped into the pickup

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bed. Mister Bridges dropped us off
in front of richest house, and we

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thanked him profusely and he waved it
us and he drove away. The wood

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stopped down the road from Rich's house, so we were safe. We didn't

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hear or see anything. Rich's parents
were gone to town, so we went

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inside and cleaned the guns. We
were both still shaking, and I went

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to the refrigerator to get a coke
and Rich gasp I spun around and said,

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what is it? Man? Look
at your back. I pulled off

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my shirt and looked, and across
the back were four slashes side by side

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that had been the tug. I
felt before I crossed the fence, there

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were slashes across the fabric, but
it hadn't reached my skin. We locked

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all the doors and reloaded the guns, and Rich went and got the Marland

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thirty thirty and he loaded it and
I loaded slugs into the twelve gage and

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we spent the rest of the afternoon
watching the tree line through the windows.

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Every night after that, for two
weeks you could hear strange screams coming from

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the woods. Rich's dogs went nuts
one night, barking at something, and

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then they heard it yelp. Rich's
dad went outside to see what happened,

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but nothing was there, and they
never found the dog. Two nights later,

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one of their cows got attacked and
killed. They found it partially eaten

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and torn up pretty good the next
day, and whatever had killed it,

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it had broken one of its legs
and its neck. A couple of times.

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Something even tried to get into the
house, but it ran off when

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Rich's dad turned on the lights and
grabbed his rifle. But by the end

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of two weeks, everything had returned
to normal and they no longer heard the

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screams. And we told Rich's dad
what had happened in the woods. He

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just laughed at us. He thought
that our imaginations had run away with us,

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and since he didn't believe us,
he never told anyone else until I

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decided to write this. Rich and
I didn't talk about it much later.

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After both of us joined the army, we drifted apart. Last I heard

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Rich lived out of state with his
wife and kids. I'm not sure where.

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00:18:23.400 --> 00:18:27.519
His parents sold their farm and moved
to New Mexico in nineteen ninety six.

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00:18:29.480 --> 00:18:33.440
And as crazy as this all sounds, I promise you this is true.

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The only thing I changed was the
names of the people involved, because

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I didn't want to reveal their names
without their permission, and I had no

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00:18:41.160 --> 00:18:47.400
idea how to find them to ask. I never returned to those woods again,

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not even with Rich or with better
weapons. I'm not sure that I

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would go back there even now.
It scares me that bad and I don't

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get scared easily. And even though
that was almost twenty years ago, I

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00:19:00.480 --> 00:19:04.440
remember it like it was yesterday,
and if I lived to be one hundred,

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00:19:04.680 --> 00:19:10.599
I will never forget it. Whatever
those things were, they lived in

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that old house, and I honestly
feel they were trying to kill us.

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00:19:15.400 --> 00:19:18.519
I often wonder if they didn't kill
the people who lived in that house all

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00:19:18.559 --> 00:19:23.799
those years ago. One of those
old cast iron stoves wasn't something people in

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00:19:23.880 --> 00:19:29.440
those days would toss aside. They
were expensive to buy, and that was

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00:19:29.519 --> 00:19:33.400
one in good shape, even in
nineteen eighty five. If we didn't have

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our guns, I think that neither
of us would have made it out of

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the woods alive. And that thing
I saw that day was no bear.

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00:19:41.640 --> 00:19:45.920
Bears don't have hands or walk on
two legs, and whatever it was,

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00:19:47.480 --> 00:19:52.839
it damn sure wasn't friendly. I've
read about the legends of Bigfoot. That

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00:19:52.960 --> 00:19:57.200
is the only thing that fits what
we saw. And if it was Bigfoot,

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00:19:57.519 --> 00:20:02.680
it sure wasn't some gentle giant of
the woods like some people try to

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00:20:02.720 --> 00:20:06.839
make it out to be. This
thing was dangerous, and I think that

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the only thing that kept it at
bay were our guns. I still say

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they were trying to make us run
out of AMMO that day. We wouldn't

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00:20:15.480 --> 00:20:18.720
have made it home if mister Bridges
hadn't come along. We were lucky that

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00:20:18.839 --> 00:20:22.279
day. I guess that's why I
don't want to go back. Why in

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the world would I push my luck.

