This story is from a woman named Lily, and what a pretty name you
all know. I love that name. My dog's name is Lily. The
character I write about in a fictional podcast, his name is Lily. His
dog, his name is Lily. I don't know why I liked that name.
I've just always liked it. So thanks Lily for sending this story.
But let's get let's see what she writes here. It's pretty exciting. I
know everyone says that their stories are true. I believe some of these stories
are true because I have one of my own to tell you about Bigfoot and
an encounter that I had. I was five years old when this story took
place. Yes, I can remember things from that age because it still haunts
me to this day. At the time, I had never heard of big
Foot, and I didn't know anything about em My family and I were living
with my grandparents and their house in porter Or, Texas, which is about
thirty miles north of Houston. This happened in nineteen sixty seven and there was
a population of maybe a little over three hundred people. We had no TV
at my grandparents at this time. All we had was a radio, so
most of the time we were outside playing. One night, we were all
sitting in the living room listening to my papa play as harmonica, and I
had to go to the bathroom. Well. I went in and did my
business, and as I was about to leave the restroom, I heard a
noise at the window, which was to my left. I had to look
up to see the window because it was taller than I was. When I
looked up, I saw a giant, hairy face looking back at me through
the window. I screamed as loud as I could, and everyone came running
to see what had happened. I told them if there was someone looking at
me in the window, and my papa and my father and my older brother
grabbed their guns and ran out back to see whoever was outside. They came
back after a little while later and said that they didn't find anyone out there,
and I told them that there was someone there, but no one believed
me. The next morning, they took me outside and they said there was
no way anyone could have been looking through the window because it was too high
for anyone to look in unless they were standing on something to see, and
there was nothing around for anyone to stand on. There were no footprints either.
It was built three house blocks high off the ground, which is pretty
high, and the window for the bathroom was another six feet higher than that
from the house blocks. I know what I saw that night, and it
took me a long time before I could go in that bathroom by myself again.
I remember the face that I saw that night. The window was like
a medium sized window. The face covered almost the whole frame. Its face
was hairy, but not all of it was covered in hair. You could
see around its eyes and its forehead, and its nose was big, and
it was kind of fat, but not like a gorilla. The hair that
I saw looked dirty and matted, and its skin was dark, but I'm
not sure how dark it was because it was nighttime. Then in nineteen seventy
six, my Papa passed away. He passed away in that same bathroom that
I had seen the face in the window. Everyone thought that he had had
a heart attack. A couple of days later, I overheard my grandmother telling
my mother that the coroner said that he did not die of a heart attack
and that his heart was fine, and he said that he had been scared
to death. So I knew that Bigfoot had come back to the house and
I'm now sixty years old. I do not tell anyone my story because I
was made fun of as a teenager. Oh my gosh. Number one,
you know, girls are modest. They don't for someone peeking in a bathroom
and there, you know, I don't want to get into that, but
there, you know that happens. And to be a little five year old
girl and look up and see this giant face in the window must have I
can see where it scared her to death. And then this thing about her
papa. Oh my goodness, the doctor actually said he was scared to death.
I mean, this all comes together when she's sixty years old. It's
such a good story. It's a heartbreaking story, but it's really good,
Lily, and I really appreciate you sending it. It was we it was
a good one to share. I'm not gonna say it was a great story.
It was a great story, but you kind of know what I'm saying,
don't you don't you? All right, thank you, ma'am for sending
it. All right, all right, for joining the podcast. It's been
a little over a week since I put one out on Dixie Crypted. I
have two stories in this podcast, I hope you like them. I've been
busy writing and recording some Steve Lily stories. Matter of fact, there are
two brand new stories, number fourteen and number fifteen, up on the Steve
Lily channel. If you haven't heard any of those stories, I recommend you
start at number one and just listen, kind of figure out who he is
and what he's doing and what his crew's doing. But if you have listened
before and you're familiar with the podcast, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen are
consecutive stories. In other words, there are kind of continuations of each story,
and so if you haven't listened to those, jump over there and look
at it. I'll put a little link in the description. Maybe put one
on an I card. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I
enjoyed writing the last two and I'm in a writing mode right now. But
I also have a lot of work to do in my regular job. So
some of these podcasts on Dixie maybe just a hair shorter than they normally are.
But I'm gonna try to keep up with everything because I love doing this.
Now. I appreciate all your nice comments and your encouragement. That's enough
of me talking. Let's jump into these stories. All right, here we
go. All right, this story happens in Texas. I love stories from
Texas. The writer doesn't give their name. They do, but they don't
say whether they're to use it. You know the drill on that. But
here's what they write. I grew up on a cattle ranch in East Texas.
My family had hunting ranches in Texas hill Country, where I developed my
love of camping and fishing and hiking and rock collecting. Although I have never
physically seen a bigfoot, I have definitely experienced bigfoot activity. For the last
twenty five years, i've taught music, and four years ago I was teaching
in a small town outside of Caraville, Texas, where I was able to
renovacation cabin that I had stayed in once on a holiday. I sat on
twenty six acres of Hell Country wilderness, and although it was only a one
bedroom, it was enough for me and my two dogs. I loved the
land and the wildlife around the cabin. I probably spent most of my paychecks
on feed for the white tail and the axis deer. There were a couple
of ornerary wild donkeys who benefited from that feed too. I fed scraps to
families of foxes and raccoons, and I had several turkeys on the place.
Once I even saw bobcat less than fifty yards from the cabin. It was
a paradise of wildlife, and best of all, the place was loaded with
fossils. I spent a lot of time hiking and fossil hunting during the three
years that I lived there. Not everything that happened there was a good memory,
though. In two and sixteen, I began to hear things hitting the
side of the cabin at night, and at first I brushed it off as
an armadillo or a wild hog rubbing against the cabin. And then one night
I was lying in bed watching TV with one dog lying beside me and the
other one asleep on the floor, and something slapped the wall next to the
bed so hard that it rattled the pictures. We all three jumped up,
and I grabbed my pistol and turned on the outside lights and took a seat
in my lazy boy chair with the gun pointed at the door. And both
of my dogs were spooped. Seeing them act that way put me at even
more on an edge. One was a pit bull and the other was an
Australian shepherd. They weren't the kind of dogs to act nervous. I spent
an uneasy night trying to keep the dogs calm, while occasionally picking out the
windows and waiting for something else to happen. At that time, I wasn't
thinking about bigfoot. I figured someone was trying to break in on me.
For my own safety, I put up a game camera facing the side of
the house that was slapped, but I never got pictures of anything except for
foxes, and I got plenty of those. But unfortunately, the owner of
the cabin died not long after that. His family wanted to sell the property
and I had to move. I got a new job teaching in Santa Fe,
New Mexico. It was a new place and a new adventure. Every
spare minute I had I spent fishing the lakes and rivers and the mountains or
hiking the trails all over northern New Mexico, and of course I was always
rock hunting. I even did some painting for gold while I was there.
Using Google Maps, I found the farthest place I could fish up the Pecos
River in the Santa Fe National Forest, It was called the Holy Ghost Trail,
and it was so remote that it was on a one lane road that
wound up the mountain. When I pulled into the deserted campground with my two
dogs, they ran straight to the water while I looked around. It was
a beautiful wilderness area with giant aspens and pinioned trees and cedar trees. The
creek ran the length of the narrow canyon between the mountains. I'd been walking
around a bit and taking in my surroundings when I started getting this weird feeling.
It was like something was watching me. My first thought was that it
was a bear or maybe a cougar, so I was on alert the whole
time I was there. When the dogs started acting strange and even ran back
to the jeep and jumped in, I decided it was time to leave.
I did some research on the Holy Ghost Trail, and I discovered that some
people think it's haunted. Well. I wanted to go back there to pay
for gold, but I never got around to it. On a cold winter
day in March of twenty when he won, I was going stir crazy,
and so were the dogs. It was during spring break, but spring didn't
get the memo after two years of teaching online. I didn't care that it
had snowed the day before it had melted in the valley, but I was
thinking about the mountains and panning for gold. So I loaded up the dogs
and head up to the place I found on a map called Willow Creek.
And that's not the famous Willow Creek. This one was off the Pacoast River,
not far from the Holy Ghost Trail. It was known for being a
place to find a little bit of gold, but it was very remote.
I ran into a park ranger on my way up and we chatted awhile and
I told him what I was planning. He pointed out that it was cold
up there and that some of the river was still frozen. I said I
still wanted to go have a look around, so he pointed me in the
right direction and I headed off the farther I drove up the mountain, the
more the trees felt like they were closing in on the road. The creek
formed a valley that I was driving through, and even it seemed to be
smothered in the forest. There was no one in sight. When I pulled
into the small parking area, and the dogs jumped out and headed straight for
the water while I took a moment to enjoy the scenery. It looked like
a Christmas card. There was still snow on the ground and in the bows
of a lot of trees, and the river was about eight feet wide and
frozen. And behind me was a patch of trees, and behind them the
mountain went straight up. It was the kind of place that can make you
feel like you're the last living soul on Earth. I walked the bank of
the creek and the hard snow until I noticed a large set of footprints.
It looked like they were frozen beneath the ice. I followed them for thirty
yards or so until they crossed into the creek, and then they disappeared.
As I walked alongside them, I took note of the fact that I had
to make two giant strides for each single step of the tracks. I stood
there and took a closer look at them. The toes didn't show up very
well where they did. They looked short. As I stood there, the
hair on the back of my neck began to stand up, and I glanced
over at my dogs and saw that they were staring into the brush. I
knew I didn't want them to go in there, so I called them back
to me, and then I did a three hundred and sixty degree turn,
looking all around me for whatever made those prints come on dogs, I said,
and I went back to the truck. After I loaded the dogs,
I got out my camera and I dug out a tape measure, and then
I went back up there and I measured the prints and the strides. The
tracks measured sixteen inches long and four to five inches wide, and the strides
were four and a half feet between each step. I took a few pictures
with my foot next to them. My female dog wouldn't stay in the truck.
She came over and started walking around the prince, not straying far from
me. That was when I started to get a really weird feeling again,
like something was watching me. I was so spooked that I decided it was
time to leave. I didn't take the time to video the stride along the
river. It's something that I now regret. I believe I was recording Bigfoot
tracks that day, and until then the thought had never crossed my mind.
I had been all through the mountains all my life. Bigfoot wasn't supposed to
be real, and when I got home, I did some research and I
found out how wrong I was. To my surprise, there have been a
lot of sightings all around my area and in the areas where I'd been remote
hiking for the last two and a half years, and it left me with
a lot of questions for which I needed to find answers. I learned that
the year I had the cabin slapping incident, there was research going on eight
miles from where I lived. I went back and looked at the trailcam footage
again and discovered something hiding in the brush and some of the footage in another
spot the fox is there, and in the next frame it's gone. I
can make out a face. In some frames it isn't clear until it blinks.
In New Mexico, I discovered that Willow Creek, where I found the
tracks is at the bottom of mountain. That's where a hunter went missing and
was featured on the Missing four one one the Hunted series. Was all of
this coincidence, I don't know, but I tend to believe that something is
out there, and I believe it's Bigfoot. I sent the photos that I
took that day to Cliff Barrackman of Finding Bickfoot fame, and doctor Jeff Meldrum
both had the same reaction. Video footage will have provided better evidence. The
pictures I sent were inconclusive, but it doesn't matter. I know what I
saw that day. I just moved back to Texas near Corpus Christie, and
they say there are some sightings around here. I'm more prepared now when I
go into the wilderness. I definitely carry a firearm, and I pay close
attention to my dogs, and I'm always ready for a new adventure. Oh
that's so cool. That last sentence just gives me a little peek into this
woman's personality. She loves new things, she loves She might be a bit
of an introvert, and she loves being out in the wild alone with her
dogs and just looking around and taking everything in. And she notices things that
are different, and she gets these senses when she's out there. Probably not
every time, but at least in the areas that she described, she gets
a sense that something is going on around her that she can't see, but
she knows what's happening. And I think that's good intuition. I don't know,
I've never had the feeling. I've never had that feeling. Every time
I go in the woods, I'm just like, Oh, that's a cool
tree, that's a cool bird over there, And I never get that sense.
And maybe that's because there's no cryptids around where I live. Anyway,
I love the story. I love this lady's spirit. I'm so thankful she
sent this story, and so thank you ma'am for sending it. I think
that'll wind this up a little bit shorter of a video than normal, and
the next few may be that way, but I'm still gonna be cranking them
out. I gotta work, y'all. I've trying to make a living,
trying to I'm getting close to retirement. Anyway, y'all, I'll quit jack
and have a good week. I'll have a podcast up in the next couple
of days. I hope you enjoyed this one and we'll see you on the
next one. Thanks