WEBVTT

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I am sixty one, and I
believe my first bigfoot encounter happened only recently.

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I'm an avid wildlife photographer. It's
a passion of mine and came about

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after a nasty breakup with a girlfriend
a decade ago. Taking pictures motivated me

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and helped me cope with my issues
at the time. I stalked the forest

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with my camera lens, and when
I'm in the woods, my perceptive hunting

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techniques become sharpened. I slow my
walking speed, which helps to control my

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breathing, and I hide within the
shrubs. And when hiking down a trail,

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I use its edge instead of its
center. I hunt for tracks and

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listen to the silence around me.
I've loved exploring the wood since I was

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eleven years old. Many a time
I was miles from my house, but

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my home was the wilderness. I
would never tell my parents where I was,

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even though I would be gone for
hours. They knew me and just

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accepted it. Those were more innocent
times. There were numerous occasions in the

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woods that I heard suspicious sounds and
smelled putrid odors. I once found a

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fifteen inch human track in the midsummer
within the sugar sand in one hundred degree

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heat. That sand is blistering hot
at those temperatures, and I could only

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wonder what bubble would be miles in
the woods, barefooted, walking on fire

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sand. At the time, I
lived in a small town named Lake Helen,

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the population of thirteen hundred, and
it surrounded by thick woods and swamps.

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There were stories around Lake Helen concerning
a creature who the locals had given

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the nickname the Moleman. It allegedly
was ripping the heads off of cattle and

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leaving the bodies, and it had
been seen on several dirt roads darting between

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the orange pros, and it was
described as a very tall creature with red

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glowing eyes. I was going to
kill the mole Man, and I warned

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my mother that if I ever saw
that monster, I would stab it with

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my Indian headed, dear antlered handle
hunting knife. Unbeknownst to me, my

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mother and my uncle had concocted an
elaborate prank on me. My uncle snuck

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into my bedroom walk in closet.
He was wearing a dark coat and a

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cheap dime store monster mask, and
with a flashlight under his coat. He

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was patiently waiting for me to add
an extra element to the joke. He

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had unscrewed the lights in my bedroom
ceiling under the pretext of retrieving a new

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radio she claimed she had stashed inside
my closet. My mother sent me upstairs

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to my bedroom and I fumbled with
the light switch and nothing happened. I

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felt around in the dark for the
knob to my closet door, and when

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it flew open, and my uncle
let out an unearthly scream. He had

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a flashlight shining across his masked face. Need lunch for me, but I

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slammed the door on him and ran
from the room and flew down the stairwell,

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bouncing off the wall at the bottom, where I then staggered down two

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more steps and fell to the floor, totally freaked out. My uncle came

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down the stairs and tore off his
mask, and then he revealed himself.

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I guess it was funny, judging
how everyone in the room nearly wet themselves

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from laughing so hard. Needless to
say, I was humiliated, and I

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left the house for a few hours, not caring if the real moman was

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lying in wait for me. A
few weeks later, I was asked to

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go camping with my brother Rick,
his girlfriend, and another couple. I

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was told of a campsite they chose, and I loved that area. There

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was a doctor that lived nearby on
one hundred acres of prime land. The

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place was surrounded by dense woods with
a ten acre swamp. He owned a

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very large and very mean Rhodesian ridgeback
dog that was known to run loose on

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the property, and I was assured
that the doctor kept the massive dog inside

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at night while I tended to our
camp fire. The two couples took off

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on a nighttime height. The fire
was intense and the light from it made

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me feel somewhat safe from any advancing
wildlife. My uncle's moleman prank was still

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fresh on my mind. The area
was within a few miles of the supposed

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cattle mutilations, but I was skeptical
that any such thing had happened. What

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kind of animal could pull the head
off a cow's body. After an hour,

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I thought I heard the others coming
back, and I saw a tall,

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shadowy figure off in the dark on
the other side of the fire,

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and I thought it was my brother
Rick, and I called out to him

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A few times he turned and walked
toward the swamp and disappeared into the darkness.

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I heard his footstep descend into the
water. When the others finally returned,

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Rick swore that whatever I saw it
was not him. Not long after,

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reward posters appeared around Lake Helen.
The doctor's beloved Rhodesian ridgeback had gone

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missing, and the dog was never
seen again. As we inch closer to

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adulthood, my friends and I would
joke about the possibility of the Moleman.

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Like most legends, celebrated by one
generation and ignored by the next, the

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stories eventually die out, and in
the end it's only the historians that remember.

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There are exceptions. My friend Pam
was an avid equestrian in the late

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nineteen seventies, and Pam loved to
go riding bareback on the trails around Lake

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Helen. When she shared her story
with me, she seemed ill at ease.

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She was on her horse in some
deeper woods on the far out skoe

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of Lake Helen. She described something
on the trail resembling a massive manlike creature

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with a huge head and very tall
with big hands. It had a rank

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odor, something she believes made her
horse skittish minutes before she spotted the monster

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in the clearing and Pam dug the
heels of her cowboy boots into the rib

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cage of her horse and they took
off in the opposite direction. Now I'm

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a bit of a cynic. I
didn't believe her, or at least I

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didn't believe that whatever she had seen
was something as camera shy as a cryptid.

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I began to wonder if my uncle
had a second career standing out in

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the woods in a homemade bigfoot suit, scaring the innocent. In twenty thirteen,

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I ventured into the Everglades to do
some primitive camping for a month.

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It was the first day of May
and I wanted to fast and read my

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Bible and to hopefully photograph an endangered
Florida panther. After set up my tent,

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I left to go on a ride
with my mountain bike. Two miles

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into it, I noticed what appeared
to be a deer in the center of

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the road. Well, I was
excited to see some wildlife, and I

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used my binoculars to get a better
view, and to my surprise, the

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deer was actually the Florida panther.
These panthers are rare. There are maybe

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one hundred and eighty or so left
in the state. It sensed my presence

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and it vacated the road, slipping
into the pal meadows to my left.

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I rode a few hundred feet down
the road in the direction I believed the

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cat to be traveling, and I
stopped and laid down my bike in the

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grass, and I stood behind a
power pole on the right side of the

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road. I could hear the squirrels
chattering at the panther as it approached.

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Judging by the sounds it was turning
in my direction. Well, it came

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into view between another clump of pal
meadows, and I shot off at least

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one hundred photos in one rapid fire
motion. Now I returned to camp extremely

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pleased. A week into my stay, I had seen bears, snakes,

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a bobcat, two panthers, and
a huge thirteen foot alligator walking on the

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road in front of me. Whatever
came into my campsite this particular night,

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it gave me ample reason to leave. I was getting ready for bed after

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reading my Bible. I had just
turned the led lantern off at nine thirty

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pm and laid my head on the
pillow. There were only two roads in

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and out, but the land was
mainly made up of large alligators, swamps,

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and cypress trees. I was alone
out there, or so I thought.

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I was suddenly jarred away by the
thud of a crashing tree to my

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left of my tent, and I
realized a second later that something had exited

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the pial meadows at the swamp's edge
to the right of me. Was it

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a bear? Had it climbed in
to the withered tree limb and both had

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fallen together. I laid there with
my bible on my chest and a small

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twenty two handgun ready to fire.
The sounds outside of my tent came all

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at once, human like whistles,
some soft and some loud. They changed

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in tone from high to low.
There were guttural grunts followed by growling.

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It was like the demented choir from
Hell. I asked God to protect me

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and stayed huddled inside that tent until
daybreak. When everything grew quiet, I

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un zipped the tent flap and took
a quick peek outside. Whatever had terrorized

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me half of the night was apparently
gone. The tree that had fallen by

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my tent was a healthy pine with
no trace of rot or disease. There

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were tracks all over the camp,
and as I stared down at the ground,

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I thought back to the giant footprints
and the sugar sand that I had

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uncovered when I was eleven and a
fearless explorer. Maybe all the stories and

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legends were beginning to have an effect
on me as I neared retirement. There's

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no fool like an old fool,
they say. I can't bring myself to

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admit the existence of such creatures like
the mole man out there in the wilderness

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until I literally capture one with my
camera or see one in person. Unfortunately,

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since that night, I haven't touched
the camera or gone camping, so

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it's likely to be some time before
either happens. I became interested in bigfoot,

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yetti, latness, and all things
cryptied in the mid nineteen seventies shows

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like Boggy Creek and In Search of
Come to Mind. I grew up in

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central Indiana, in a small town
about an hour from Indianapolis, Cincinnati,

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and Dayton. I was what my
family called an east side river rat.

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We ran the swampy area in the
Whitewater River and played in the woods all

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the time. Okay, when we
weren't playing baseball or football, riding bikes

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are in the old barn property.
In grade school, I recall going to

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the library at the school and then
later to the county library to find books

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on Bigfoot and other cryptids. So
I really believed in these creatures at a

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young age. In the late seventies, my grandparents moved down to Florida and

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we would go down there a lot
when I was a young boy. I

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can recall playing outside and feeling like
I was being watched. Numerous times we

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walked down toward the old sawmill and
I would just get the creeps and could

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not get the nerve up to explore
that area. It had been shut down

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for a long time and was overgrown. Just a few hundred yards down the

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road, the swamps in the forest
began. It was super thick and dark.

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We never really went in at all. I say this because in Indiana

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I ran the woods and the river
all the time, so the outdoors never

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bothered me. I'm just not sure
if it was the creepy feeling fear of

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the gators or rattlers that kept us
out, but we never went too far

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in those woods. During the spring
of nineteen eighty or eighty one, a

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local newspaper had some stories of the
Bigfoot swamp eight near my grandpa's house.

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The Orlando news station also had a
TV report. If I recall, I

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mentioned to my grandpa that I thought
it was true and wondered if the creature

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could use the old mill and the
swamp areas for a home. The whole

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family had stayed up and I had
gone to bed about eleven PM. I

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stayed in a room at the front
of the house by myself. I can't

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recall if I was awake or trying
to sleep, or was awakened, but

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I could hear a noise outside of
my window. I'm guessing it was around

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twelve or twelve thirty or in that
time frame. I could tell something was

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walking around in the front yard.
I thought it was my dad or my

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grandpa. I could hear different sounds
from growling, guttural noises, and snorting.

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I knew my family did not sound
like that, but I didn't look.

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I wished I could have mustered the
courage to look, but I was

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terrified. The noises only lasted about
five or ten minutes. I can remember

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hearing dragging sounds, and like something
touching the house. It was pacing back

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and forth. The sounds got louder, and then they got softer. I

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remember the primal fear to this day. I was so scared to look out

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the window, even though I wanted
to. I remember just staying in bed,

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awake and scared. I went outside
as soon as I woke up in

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the morning and found something interesting.
There were two large footprints in the sandpile.

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It almost looked like they were made
by something jumping into our sandpile.

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The piles were a couple of feet
tall and wide. I showed the tracks

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to my family and they all played
it off as a fluke or a neighborhood

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kid goofing around. I can't think
of too many kids with feet that big.

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They all had the five toes and
were just plain big bear footprints.

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I measured them with the tape and
they were seventeen inches long and eight to

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ten inches across. My foot today
is a ten and a half long and

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four and a half inches wide,
and my foot could have fit in these

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footprints twice. I can say I
did not imagine these noises, nor the

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actual footprints, but I cannot say, one hundred percent sure that it wasn't

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a hoax or a family member kidding
with me. No one ever claimed they

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did it. I even asked my
dad a few years back. He is

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seventy seven now, and to this
day he claims to have no knowledge of

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how the tracks got there. I
even asked my grandfather when I was in

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college, and he says he doesn't
know either. I grew up in a

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suburban neighborhood in New Jersey. I
had no experience with the real outdoors.

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Growing up, all my activities took
place inside the city limit. I never

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considered the unseen world as anything more
than fantasy. I'm not a believer in

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conspiracy theories. I think most things
can be explained by science or sound reasoning.

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Sometimes two plus two really does equal
four. After graduating from high school,

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I became a little less sheltered,
maybe even a bit more open minded.

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Now I met my wife, who
had a love for these topics I

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either dismissed or had little interest in. She shared a few stories with me

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that happened while she was growing up, like the abandoned garage where the neighbors

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kids claimed a pair of bright red, glowing eyes would stare at them from

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the window. The old two story
house where she lived with her family had

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a basement that had been dug out
after the place had been constructed around the

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year nineteen hundred. It had a
dirt floor and the foundation was starting to

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sag. There was a section that
had an inlet crawl space. When she

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aimed a flashlighting into it, she
could see nothing but cobwebs. One day,

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her mother sent her to the basement
to retrieve some canned goods sitting on

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a metal shelf. Her arms were
loaded down with baked beans. When she

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looked up and saw a pair of
red, glowing eyes looking at her from

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within the crawl space. She let
out a scream, dropped the canned goods,

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and fled to the safety of the
first floor. Her father's response was

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to hang a few more lights from
the basement rafters. My wife and I

205
00:16:47.480 --> 00:16:51.919
were visiting her mother one evening,
shortly after we were married. The two

206
00:16:51.919 --> 00:16:55.679
of them left to visit a relative
on the other side of town, leaving

207
00:16:55.720 --> 00:16:59.799
me alone to watch the television.
Well, maybe it was a mix of

208
00:16:59.840 --> 00:17:03.200
hearing my wife's scary stories and the
power of suggestion, but I thought I

209
00:17:03.240 --> 00:17:08.000
heard something rumbling around in the basement. There was a loud crash, and

210
00:17:08.079 --> 00:17:12.799
I immediately thought about the metal shelf
of canned goods, so I opened the

211
00:17:12.839 --> 00:17:18.400
door leading to the basement and reached
for the light switch. The lone bulb

212
00:17:18.519 --> 00:17:23.240
hanging over the steps flickered and went
out, and I peered down the stairwell

213
00:17:23.359 --> 00:17:27.880
into the darkness, and I saw
two red glowing eyes staring back at me.

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00:17:29.720 --> 00:17:32.160
And I slammed the door and ran
to my car, and I fled

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00:17:32.200 --> 00:17:37.640
to a nearby fast food joint.
My in laws were not bothered in the

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00:17:37.720 --> 00:17:42.680
least by my story. They righted
the topple shelving unit, restacked the cans,

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00:17:42.720 --> 00:17:48.160
and changed the bulb over the stairs. Critters was all they said.

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00:17:48.640 --> 00:17:53.200
Since then, I've had what you
call a heightened awareness of my surroundings.

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00:17:53.799 --> 00:17:59.000
I readily admit that there are things
in life that can't be explained, though

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00:17:59.000 --> 00:18:07.279
I always believe that two plus two
equals four mm hmm.

