Speaker 1: My name is Joshua and I live in Arkansas, and
in late two thousand and three, right before it started
getting cold, my wife and I were invited to camp
with a friend of mine and his girlfriend at Sugarloaf
Lake in Oklahoma so we could check out some paranormal
places in the area. It was dark when we got there,
and we all climbed into Bob's car and we drove
around for a few hours, checking out abandoned houses and graveyards.
But around midnight we started to get bored. Bob smiled
and said he was saving the best for last, and
he turned down an old dirt road with the woods
on one side and the barberire fence on the other.
There were two acres of field connecting the wooded hillside,
but nothing to light the night except the full moon
in the clear, starry sky. He stopped the car and
we got out and looked toward the fence in the
field and the wooded hillside. He looked at his cell
phone and he told us that it was eleven fifty seven,
and he told us to watch and wait. At exactly midnight,
a small light flickered in the middle of the hillside.
Natchill ran down my back as we watched the small
lantern like light begin to move, swaying back and forth.
We watched in complete silence for several minutes, when I
finally spoke up and asked what it was. Bob said
he didn't know, but locals had told him that at
midnight on every night, this lantern would light up and
sway back and forth through the woods until the sun
came up, and then it would disappear. And there were
no lights or houses on the hillside, so it didn't
make any sense. At the time. I was a nineteen
year old kid who didn't think anything would scare me
or hurt me, so I had the bright idea to
yell at it. Yeah, we see you. Wow, you're so
scary with your little lantern, I shouted, and I started laughing.
Bob told me to shut up, but it was too late.
My wife screamed and pointed, and I saw the lantern
moving down the hillside, gliding at an unhuman pace, speeding
across the field toward the car. Within seconds, we were
buckled up and flying down the dirt road back to
the lake, and when we looked back, we saw the
lantern moving slowly back up the hillside to where it
first appeared. The ride back was silid, and when we
got back to Sugar Loaf Lake, we dropped my tailgate
and we sat around and talked about what had just happened.
A little while later, Bob asked if we could take
the truck to the next town to get some food,
because his car wouldn't have enough gas to get us there.
I said okay, and I put the tailgate up and
we loaded into my truck. But when I turned the key,
nothing happened. My truck was dead. There was no dang,
no lights, no clue looking, noise, nothing. We got out
of the trunk, popped the hood, pulled Bob's car around
to the front, and attempted to jump start it with
his car. As soon as we connected the jumper cables
to his battery in mind, the connector started to smoke,
and then, in an inexplicable flash of fire, they burned
up into bits and melted rubber and ash, with only
the end clamps left still attached to the batteries. Bob
and I looked at each other in an eerie moon
and starlit night, confused as all hell, and realized there
was a distant noise on the lake that was getting
closer to us. It was a boat motor. At this
time of year, it was starting to get cold, especially
at night, and somebody being out in a boat at
that time of the night, at that time of the
year didn't make sense. When the boat was just about
fifty yards away, a spotlight turned on and blinded us all.
Bob and I told the girls to get the car
locked the doors, and I reached into the bed of
my truck and grabbed a tire tool. The boat pulled
up to the dock and two heavily bearded men stepped
out and walked up to us with a spotlight still on.
They looked at our vehicles and then the women in
the car, and they laughed. You fella's got some sort
of car trouble, one ask as he lit up a cigarette. Yeah,
it's nothing we can't handle, I stammered. The guy with
a cigarette stiffed the air and looked down at our
feet and saw the smoking ashes of the jumper cable.
Looks like it was more than your weak jumper cables
could handle. We got some tools on the boat and
fix your problems right up, Yeah, fix them right up.
The other guy said. They walked back to the boat.
We heard what sounded like chains rattling around, and we
tried to make out what they were doing, but the
spotlight was so blinding that we could barely see but
that chain noise. Something about it wasn't right, something about
those men wasn't right. Bob and I exchanged a glance,
and without saying a word, we jumped in his car
and we drove the hell out of there. We got
to a populated area of houses nearby, and we sat
in the car quietly and looked around the whole time,
thinking that at any time those weird men would come
and find us, And every now and then Bob would
turn his lights on, thinking he had seen some movement
in the dark. After a while, the women fell asleep,
and Bob and I talked about how weird this whole
ordeal had been. The men never showed up, and eventually
the morning was on its way. It was about twenty
minutes until daylight, and Bob asked if I wanted to
see the lantern really disappear at sunrise like the locals said.
He was sure he had enough fuel, so we had
it out there in about four minutes left until sunrise.
We saw the lantern swaying in the woods. We all
stared at it and wonder when the sun rose. We
watched the lantern slowly fade away to nothing. We got
back in the car and drove back to the lake,
feelings safer. Now there was no sign of the boat.
The hood of my truck was still up, and those
doors were still locked. I got in the cab and
tried to start the truck one more time, and I'll
be damn if it didn't start right up. We all
went our separate ways, happy to have seen the sunrise
and counting our blessings, and swearing to leave the paranormal
investigation in that area to others. But all things fade
with time, even fear and common sense. Three years later, Bob,
who I hadn't seen in nearly two years, called me
up and said he had a proposition for me. Bob
was a wicked He had a small group of three
other wickeds and they did seances and haunted places sometimes.
And Bob asked me if i'd be willing to film
their sessions. Well, I'm no wicking, but he offered to
pay me well. I told him i'd be happy to
film for them, but I had no interest in joining
in the first place. They wanted to go with Sugar Loaf,
and he asked me if I remembered the lantern light
that we had seen out there, and I asked him
how I could have ever forgotten that. Bob wanted to
contact the lantern spirit and find out why it was
there and what it wanted. I felt uncomfortable about this
whole thing, but Bob had offered to pay me, so
I agreed to it. A week later, I was in
Bob's car with two other guys and a girl I
had never met, going down that dirt road to the
haunted hillside. We got there at eleven fifty pm. The
four of them sat in a tight circle. I was
behind them, five feet from the fence in my back
to the hillside. They started chanting, and I started filming.
Words cannot do justice to the pure terror that ensued.
Whatever light interest I had in the paranormal before that
night was gone, and after what happened, I wanted nothing
to do with it ever again. As the group chanted,
Bob lit up a huge candle in the middle of
them and opened up some sort of book. He started
reciting words from it. He looked at his phone and
told his group to be quiet look at the hill.
I turned the camera around, and at midnight on the dot,
the lantern appeared. Bob's group joined hands and attempted to
communicate with the spirit. I turned my back to the
light and turned the camera back to the group and
filmed them as they started asking questions of the spirit,
hoping for a response. About this time, a strong wind
picked up and Bob's candle went out. He told me
to cut the camera for a minute as he went
on to try to get his lighter working, to no avail.
The others in the group tried their lighters, but none
of them worked either. I was sitting down at that
point watching them try to get a flame started when
I heard a rustling behind me, and I jumped up
and left the camera on the ground and spun around.
Right away, I was blinded by a spotlight. It was
a lantern, close up and personal, but as soon as
it appeared, it was gone and I didn't have a
chance to identify it. I looked around for the lantern
on the hillside, but I didn't see anything. Right then,
the wind quit blowing and I heard Bob's lighter finally work.
I asked if any of the others had seen the light,
and before any of them could speak, we heard a
distant laughter coming from nowhere and everywhere around us. It
was no ordinary laughter. It was like the laughter of hundreds,
even thousands of children. It was a sinister laughing. It
was a goofy laughing and giggling all around us, coming
from all directions. I started shaking. I couldn't move. I
was spinning around, looking everywhere for some kind of an explanation,
because something like that doesn't happen in real life. And
then I screamed at Bob that we needed to get
the hell out of there. The laughter was getting closer
and louder, and we hauled out of there, leaving the
candle and the camera behind. A mile up the road,
Bob pulled over. He was in no condition to drive,
so we all got out of the car and paced
around the road and tried to make sense of what
we had just seen. I got my hands on my
knees and I was panting and trying to catch my
breath when we heard laughter off in the distance again.
At first, it was quiet, but it slowly got closer
and louder, until once again it was deafening, and we
jumped back in the car and we sped away. We
drove five or six miles. For the first three we
heard the laughter in the distance following us, and when
it faded, we started calming down, and Bob's friend in
the passenger seat had his phone out waiting for a
signal to pop up, and as soon as it did,
he called a friend of his who was a well
versed and educated man in all things of the occult.
She was on the speaker and told Bob and his
friend that she believed that this was the children of Hecady.
We were still speeding down the road when the hair
on the back of all of our necks stood up straight.
Then there was a loud snapping noise from in front
of Bob's hood, and Bob's truck stopped dead in its
tracks and wouldn't go another inch. The friend on the
phone only lived about twenty minutes away from where we were,
and she said she was on her way. Three minutes later,
we saw a pair of headlights coming down the road
toward us. We knew it was soon to be Bob's friend,
but me and Bob thought maybe we could get a
ride from a local, so we unloaded out of the
car and stood in front of it and waited for
the vehicle to stop. As the vehicle came into view,
we saw it was an old, beat up pickup truck,
and it slowed down to look at us, and inside
I saw two heavily bearded men, and I looked at
Bob and he said what I was already thinking, that's
the guys from the boat. The truck kept driving, and
before I could respond, it turned around and drove toward
us again, and the guys in the truck passed slowly by,
staring at us as they went by. Bob called his
friend back, told her to drive like hell and get
here now. It took five minutes and we saw the
headlights coming and we started to relax, thinking it was
Bob's friend, But then his phone rang and his friend
called to tell him that she had taken a wrong turn.
It was going to be another fifteen minutes. Bob hung
up the phone and we watched in terror as the
same truck slowly passed by us again, this time with
only one of the boat men in the truck, and
the driver slowed to a crawl and rolled his window down,
and he spoke to us. Looks like you fellers could
use some help, he said, and then he sped up
and drove off. The laughter started up again in the
distance all around us, and over the next few minutes
it got closer and closer, and in the distance we
saw two sets of headlights coming on in two vehicles
coming toward us slowly, side by side, taking up the
entire width of the road and coming our way. The
laughter had intensified so much that it was like hundreds
of children were laughing at us from close by. Our
last shred of hope started fading away as those two
vehicles got closer, but by a miracle, from the opposite
direction on the road, we saw another set of headlights
coming fast. Bob's friend pulled up next to us in
a rush. She unlocked the doors and told us to
get in, and right then two sets of headlights coming
from the other direction turned off. She heard the laughing
children and screamed at us to get in, and as
soon as she started to drive away, the other two
sets of headlights came on again, this time with their brights.
As she sped away with us crammed into the car.
The other two vehicles were on our tail, and they
stayed on the bumper for the next mile, and then
they turned onto a side road and disappeared. For the
next two miles. After that, we heard laughter still way
off in the distance. To this day, I have no
explanation for what happened, and I hope somebody who hears
this has had a similar experience it can share their
story with me. To all of you who think the
paranormal is just a fun hobby to get your thrills with,
I'll warn you that we are not prepared for what
is really out there. If you hear the story, I
hope you sleep peacefully tonight. I for one know that
for at least the next few nights, I won't be
getting any sleep at all. Hey, everybody, welcome to the podcast. Man.
That story that you just heard scared me to death.
While I was reading it, I could just see all
of that happening. It was unbelievable. In this podcast, we
have another paranormal a haunting story. We have a we
have a story about a person who was actually attacked
by an infamous serial killer. And then at the end
we got a fantastic Bigfoot story. So I'm glad you're here.
I'm glad you clicked on this video because you're not
missing it, and I hope you enjoy it all. Right
here we go. It was summertime. The sun was beating
down and the air was sweltering hot. There was a
kind of weather fit for relaxing in the shade with
a good book or dipping the pool, and that was
about it. I chose to read a book. My book
of choice was a magazine. It was one of those
true detective publications. There was an article in it about
how women can protect themselves in public or when someone
is trying to harm them. I turned to the page
and I began to read. It was full of information
and tips, such as always being aware of those around you.
For example, a woman should always glance behind her when
entering a store at the mall. She should take stock
of any man following her into the store or lurking
outside the entrance. And if a man has followed her in,
she should deliberately go to an area he wouldn't normally frequent,
and if he continues to follow, she should leave the
store and wait. If there's a bench available, she should
sit down and observe without being too obvious. If he
also sits her lingers, she should go to another store
to see if he follows again. I firmly believe I
was meant to read that article, but I had no
idea until I decided to go into the mall later
that day just how important the information would be. I
had just bought a new dress that I was eager
to wear, and it was too hot to stay outside.
The mall was an air conditioned oasis, so I bathed,
and I dressed, and I did my hair and my makeup,
and I was off for an afternoon of shopping. I
entered the small dress shop, and it was warmly greeted
by some of the employees. I was a frequent shopper
and I was well known there. We spoke for a minute,
and they complimented me on how well I looked in
this dress, and I went about my shopping. I had
left that store and was heading for another when the
article I read earlier came to mind. Casually, I strolled
down the main corridor and I glanced around. Two women
were engaged in a conversation near the entrance of the
next door that I entered, and not far from them
was a tall, nice looking man wearing a sport coat
and a tie and some nice slacks. He was well
groomed with a neatly trim brown wavy hair. I didn't
see anyone I considered to be a threat. I moved
to the lady section to shop, as did the two
other women, and so did the man, and I giggled
to myself, wondering who the lucky lady was he was
shopping for. He kept glancing at me. When I left
the store, I couldn't help but notice that the man
did too, and I continued down the mall, stopping to
look in the window of a hobby shop. The man
also approached the shop, and he stopped, seeming to amuse
himself as well. I was immediately on guard, and as
I continued through the mall, he followed, And when I stopped,
he stopped, and when I moved on, he moved on.
And I decided it was best to cut my trip
short and leave the mall. I walked out the front
door with the man right behind me, and I got
my keys ready to open my car door. Now, back
in the nineteen seventies, Keyfobbs weren't in existence. My green
Grand Chirino was parked halfway across the parking lot. It
felt like miles away, and I finally entered the lane
where it was parked, and the man entered the adjacent lane.
I walked up beside my car, and he walked to
the car parked directly in front of me, and he
put his key into the lock. As I inserted the
key into mine, I opened my door, but he stepped
away from his car and he started walking toward me.
I jumped inside my car just to see lunged for me,
and he ran to my car door and grabbed the
handle and I hit the lock as he began to
pull on it, and a split second later he would
have opened my door. That was a hot day and
cars can quickly turn into ovens on days like that,
So to alleviate some of the heat, I left my
window cracked about two inches and he stuck his fingers
through and began trying to force the window down. Now
asked him what he was doing, opened the door. He
said over and over. I was so frightened that I panicked,
and I turned the key and gassed the engine. The
car wouldn't start I had flooded it. Now I was
fighting hysterics, and he continued to talk to me, saying
awful things, things I can't repeat. And he asked me
questions of a nature so shocking that I was stunned.
And as he spoke, he worked himself into a frenzy,
speaking faster and faster. Then he said he was doing
this to me because it was what I wanted. All
the while I was honking the horn and yelling for help.
It didn't deter him, though, in the least. He just
kept telling me what he was going to do to me,
and that I wanted him to. A man and a
woman walked behind the car, and I saw them and
pleaded with them for help. They looked at the man
and then at me, and they shook their heads in disgust,
and they walked away. There were others in the parking lot,
and many of them looked right at us, but it
was like they didn't want to get involved. They all
looked away and ignored the entire scene. I was trying
to remain calm. I kept trying to crank the car.
It was only me at that point, no one else
was going to save me. And finally it started, and
I told him to back away because I was leaving,
and he kept hold on the window and kept talking.
I'm warning you, I yelled. If you don't remove your hand,
it's going to roll up on your fingers and I'm
going to drive off with you attached to it. He
didn't comply, so I followed through with my threat. I
rolled up the window hard on his fingers and backed up.
He still wouldn't let go. I drove to the main
entrance of the mall with him still hanging onto the window,
and I told him one last time to let go,
and I punched the gas. He held on for a
couple of steps. In his hands were wrenched from the window.
As I drove off, I looked back and he was
straightening his tie and walking back in the mall. This
victory gave me courage, and I told myself he wasn't
going to get away with what he did to me.
I pulled over to the curb and I went back
inside the mall. At that time, they didn't have security
like they do today, but they had a custodian and
he was a friend of my father's, and I found
him and quickly told him the short version of what
had happened, and together we went looking for the well
groomed man and a sport coat. We found him sitting
in the back of a snack bar, as if nothing
had happened, and when I pointed him out, the custodian
looked at me and said, you must be mistaken. Look
at that man. He looks like a lawyer or a businessman.
He couldn't possibly be the one you're talking about. But
when I insisted that he was indeed the man who
had accosted me in the parking lot, I was told
to go home and call my father. Meanwhile, the man
was pretending not to notice us, but I knew he
was watching, and I could feel as eyes on me.
But what could I do. I was so upset that
I left, but not without making sure that he wasn't
following me. I will never forget his face. It was
only inches from me for several minutes, and I stared
right into his eyes, his images forever etched in my mind.
That night, when my husband got home from work, I
told him the entire story, and his reply was to
stay away from the mall. They were not words I
wanted to hear one night as my husband and I
were watching the news. I saw a familiar face. It
was the man from the mall, and I screamed when
I saw him. My husband, completely baffled by my response,
demanded to know what was wrong with me and I
told him, but he said it couldn't be the same man.
He was a serial killer from out west. And the
news continued. It said that they had arrested a man
in Flora, where he'd been living and working, and his
name was Ted Bundy. I lived only a few hours
from where he was living. He easily could have stopped
at the mall on the way to Florida or driven
there on the prow for his next victim. What he
did to his victims was unspeakable. I once met a
woman whose mother went out on a date with Ted Bundy.
She worked at a mall in Birmingham, Alabama, and he'd
ask her out several times and she had refused. And
when he asked her why she wouldn't go out with him,
she said, for all I know, you could be a
serial killer. Well do I look like a serial killer
to you? He would ask, as he flashed her his
charming smile. What does a serial killer look like she asked.
Eventually she relented and they had their date and he
picked her up at home and took her to a bar.
She said the drinks he ordered for them weren't the
usual beers that everyone seemed to be drinking, and that
they were out of the ordinary. Afterward, he took her
home and he kissed her hand. I like you, he said.
That's why I'm letting you go like me. The next
time she saw him, he was on the news. And
it goes to show you that monsters can come in
pretty packages. Be aware of your surroundings and the possibility
that someone could take you. Monsters come in all shapes
and sizes and fur colors. Some are on four legs
and some are on two. And she signs the email Lenita,
survivor of a serial killer. Lenita is a friend of mine.
She's told me this story before, and I've had this
story for months and I just haven't found a This
is the perfect podcast to put it in. So Lenita,
there is your experience with Ted Bundy. It scared me
when you first told it, and it scared me right
in when I just read it. You're a brave woman.
I really appreciate you sending this to us. In twenty thirteen,
on our way back home to Alabama, my mother and
I stopped at the Myrtle Plantation in Saint Francisville, Louisiana.
It was one of those haunted tourist attractions. It was beautiful,
but we never felt anything bad. The myrtles were in
full bloom and Spanish moss hung around the massive oaks.
The grounds were immaculately cut and trimmed. The brick courtyard
was neatly cared for, with a big water fountain in
the center with coins on the bottom where the guests
had made their wishes. There was a really nice restaurant
on the grounds and we had a nice lunch. Afterward,
we went on our tour of the house. It was
just as beautiful inside as it was outside. We didn't
feel uncomfortable at all, and since I'm normally sensitive about
these things, we thought it being haunted was just a
scam to get people to visit. We got home, I
told my husband all about it, how beautiful it was,
and all about the restaurant and how wonderful the food was.
I told him it was not haunted, and that I
wanted to go back with him sometime and stay the night. Well,
it took us two years, but we finally were able
to make a reservation for a couple of nights. The
time came and we headed to Saint Francisville with the
GPS leading the way. We arrived at four pm that day,
and as my husband was parking the truck, I noticed
a man walking from the woods to the driveway. He
did not look right, and he was out of place.
He had a big, white flowing shirt on, he had
tight black pants with knee boots on, and his hair
was in a ponytail. And he glowed and shimmered too.
And I said to my husband, look, I think that's
a ghost, but he was too busy parking to see.
I got out of the truck and as soon as
I could, I walked after the man to see where
he went. I couldn't find him, but I went to
the place where he came out of the woods, and
I found there was no path at all. The clearing
he came out of had been a wild hedge of bushes.
The whole area was nothing but thick shrubs. It was
impossible for anybody to walk through. I realized then that
I had seen a ghost during the day. Oh lord,
I thought, have I made a mistake about this place.
We made our way to the gift shop, met up
with a woman named Esther, and we got checked in
and I told her about the man I saw, and
she told me they would be interacting with me tonight.
It was a creepy thing to say, and I thought,
but I thanked her and we went on our way.
The master bedroom was the only bedroom in the main house,
and we had the house to ourselves with the only key.
And right then I felt something I hadn't felt on
my first visit there with my mother two years earlier.
There was a heaviness that I did not feel like before.
Oh well, I thought, and I brushed it off. That night,
we walked around for a while and decided to turn in.
Going into that house that night had a different atmosphere
than during the day. While we got in the bed
with the lights out, we both fell asleep within minutes.
But in the middle of the night, I woke up
with the covers having been pulled off my shoulders. It
was a little chilly, so I reached down and pulled
the sheet back up, thinking that maybe my husband moved
in his sleep, and I was about to doze back off,
and that's when I felt fingers on my shoulder, pulling
the sheet off of me. My husband had his back
to me, and there was no way it could have
been him, and I reached down and grabbed that sheet
with my fist and I pulled it over my head.
I said an ugly word, and then I turned over
and I ran my face into my husband's back. I
was so frightened I could hardly move, and I lay
there for the longest time, praying for the sun to
come up. We finally did. I begged my husband to
come to the bathroom with me so that I wouldn't
have to go alone. Despite the scary night, we had
a great day taking pictures and venturing around this plantation.
And while we were riding around, I told my husband
what had happened to me during the night. That's what
he told me. He had his own tale to tell.
In the night, somebody called his name right up against
his ear, waking him up from a deep sleep. I
looked right at my husband and I said, how about
we just go home? But he shook his head. No.
We had already paid for another night. We were going
to stay. I didn't want to go to bed that night,
so we sat out in the courtyard until it was late,
with me frightened to death about going in that house
and climbing that staircase to our room. It was unbearable.
But it was late and it was time to head
in for the night. We got ready for bed, but
this time we did it differently. We changed sides of
the bed and I kept the lye and I prayed
the whole night for our safety, and I eventually fell asleep.
The last night was uneventful, Thank you Lord. We got
our stuff and we headed home. On the way home,
my husband told me he really liked that place and
that maybe we could come back sometime. I told him
he was nuts and I was never going back to
that place, and if he wanted to go, he'd have
to go alone. Okay, listen this podcast up with a
Bigfoot story. Everybody likes the bigfoot stories, So here we go.
I come from a family of avid hunters. We camp
and hike off and and have for years. And I
know the sounds normal animals mate, as well as their
tracks and scat. I lived outside Calispel. I think I'm
pronouncing that right. Calispell, Montana, in an area called Many Lakes.
I lived over the top, basically in the snow line.
My kids and I lived in a quaint rental in
a beautiful spot between four or five lakes. A couple
of those lakes were private and others were public. My
driveway was straight and I normally backed out onto the
dirt as traffic was virtually nonexistent. In April of twenty sixteen,
I was up early getting ready for work. At three
point thirty in the morning. I was almost finished when
I decided to warm my jeep up. When I stepped outside,
I realized there was no noise, no squirrels, no birds, nothing,
But it was so early in the morning that I
didn't pay much attention. I made it to my jeep,
and as I reached my hand out to open the door,
I heard the strangest, deep, growling howl noise that I
had ever heard, coming from the private lake. I stopped
in my tracks and I realized something was running down
my driveway to the game trail that goes to the lake.
As it ran, it let out an eerie call, answering
the first one. The lake was slightly lit by the
moon and From where I stood, I could see the
water ripple. It was almost as if the creatures had
gone in the water. When they were almost to the
other side of the lake. The first creature, which I
assumed was the larger of the two because its call
was much deeper, called out again, and the smaller one
answered well. I got goosebumps and my hair stood up,
and I jumped in the jeep and I started it,
and I ran back inside the house. I finished getting
ready for work, and I walked outside. Fifteen minutes later.
It was still eerily quiet. Even today, I can't remember
ever hearing the woods being so quiet. I got into
the safety of my jeep and backed out onto the road.
But the second my vehicle cleared the edge of the house,
I was pelted with pine cones, tons of them within
a few seconds, and I stopped and rolled the window
down and I yelled, knock it off. I started to
back up again, and as I hit the end of
the driveway, they started throwing more pine cones, only this
time not as many or as quickly. I knew what
was throwing them, but I didn't want to believe it.
I thought about it all day at work, and when
I got off that afternoon, I went to pick my
son up, Caden, from school. I told him about it,
and he suggested that we go look for tracks. When
we pulled up to turn into the driveway, he jumped
out to get the mail like he usually did. He
was about four steps from the mailbox when he froze
and looked at me with huge eyes. He heeled for
me to come look, and when I got out and
ran over to him, I saw several running steps and
then one left print that crossed over the right one
right where it stepped onto the game trail. My son
started tracking it, and I got back in the car
and parked the jeep in the driveway. When I got
out again, my son's face was lit up with excitement.
He had found all kinds of tracks. We followed them
down to the bank and we saw the tracks go
to the edge of the lake, where they met up
with a set of much larger tracks that were so
big we could still see where they had stepped into
the water. We filmed and we measured the tracks. The
smaller ones were just over thirteen inches and the larger
tracks were seventeen and three quarter inches. When we went
out beside the house where the pine cones came from,
we found a third set of tracks, much smaller than
the other two. It only measured nine inches. In August
of the same year, my husband and son were right
outside my bedroom fixing my daughter's truck. They were both
underneath it, and I went to take them some drinks.
I stepped out of my bedroom door and instantly noticed
a juvenile bigfoot lying on top of the bank watching them.
I didn't react, I just kept moving. I gave them
the drinks and Aiden went inside for a minute, and
when he was out of earshot, I asked my husband
if he knew that there was a baby bigfoot watching them. Yeah,
he said, it's been there a while. It's not hurting anything.
I think it's just curious. Well, all right, I said,
looking toward the house. Does Caden know? Nope, my husband said.
After thirty minutes, when Caden and my husband had finished
and were getting ready to move the truck, Caden saw
the bigfoot and he yelled and pointed excitedly, and then
he ran after it. Well, that thing jumped up and
moved so fast that it was down my driveway and
across the road to the other lake before Caden had
even got a few feet. It was the coolest thing.
In December of twenty twenty, I moved to Eureka, Montana,
and bought a small ranch on a dead end road
that backed up to Canada. The forty ninth parallel was
my northern fence line. The house had been vacant for
seven years, and when we moved in, we were pretty
busy getting it ready to live in, and we didn't
notice anything out of the ordinary. My son was now
in the Air Force, and I saw him about twice
a year, and in February he and his wife visited
for his birthday. We were all busy doing a lot
with the horses and the house, and after a few days,
when it was nearing dinnertime and not yet dark, we
were sitting in the living room chatting and waiting for
dinner to be ready. Earlier that day, we had switched
out my dryer for a new one, and we set
the old one temporarily on the patio. The patio was
concrete and it was surrounded on three sides by the house.
As we were sitting there, I noticed something big and
black by the dryer, but all my dogs were inside
and accounted for. And when I saw it, I stood up,
and as I did, it stood up too. It was huge,
and Caden saw it too. That's a bigfoot, he said quietly.
I headed for the door to the patio with Caden
behind me. That thing was every bit of seven and
a half feet tall. Before it left, it stopped and
looked at me, and I could see the whites of
its eyes. It turned and stepped over the forty two
inch high fence, and as I watched in amazement, Cayden
was already running through the living room to go out
the front door. It was just getting dark out, and
when Cayden and I were both outside, we could see
where the thing stepped on a pallet and broke it.
The next step was sixty two inches away. I could
see it ran down the ravine and I knew it
was going to flank us so it could watch us more.
And I reassured my family that it was not going
to hurt us, though it was just curious, after all,
no one had been at that house for years. I
got on a local Facebook page and reported what I
had seen, and a neighbor asked me to report it
to the police. Well, I called and reported it, and
within fifteen minutes we had two officers show up at
the house. Well. We walked around with them and they
told us that they were going to check the barn
in the outbuilding. It was dead quiet, and my horses
were wide eyed and they were acting weird. After the
officers checked the buildings in the neighbor's place, they came
up to tell us that they hadn't seen anything. The
younger officer told me he believed me and thought it
was a bigfoot, but the other officer, who was older
and seemed to have no opinion, was on alert and
he was stand offish. We finally sat down to eat dinner.
Each of us amped up over all the excitement, and
after we ate, I checked my Facebook and saw two
hundred replies to my post, most of them telling me
the bigfoots had been in that area for years. I
also got a text from my neighbor who was about
seventy two years older so, and he told me the
bigfoots had been in the area for generations, that they
come through several times a year and they move on.
Also got a message from a guy who said he
was a professional tracker. He asked if he could come around,
and I told him, hell yes. He showed up that
night after it had gotten really dark and cold outside,
and he tracked it all the way down to the
ravine and said it headed north and then west, but
after a while he lost the tracks. This guy told
me he wasn't a bigfoot believer, but he could verify
that it was not a bear or a cat and
was definitely not a wolf. He said it was bipedal
and massive, but it walked soft footed when not running.
When he left, we all sat down and tried to
settle in for the night, but the action was far
from over. It was ten forty five and we heard
a loud, flat handed slap on the north side of
the house, next to my bedroom. Caden and I got
up and went right outside, but we couldn't see any
sign of anything. Later, we heard another slap but tried
to ignore it, and then it slapped again, harder than before,
and dragged what sounded like claws down the side of
the house. We decided it must have been juveniles messing
with us, and again we tried to ignore it. I
went to bed a little while later, only to be
awakened at three am by a horrible growl unlike anything
I had ever heard. Right outside my window, I heard
something jump up and down on the back of my
avalanche truck, and then I heard branches breaking. And this
went on for hours. Finally, at dawn, I got up
the nerve to get up and finally go outside in
my bathrobe, and I saw tons of tracks. I took
pictures and videos of everything, and I measured everything I could.
That afternoon, I contacted a well known bigfoot researcher and
he came all the way from California to my house
and he set up two gifting stations with food, toys, feathers, crystals,
and buttons, all things he said that they loved. Over
the course of the week that he stayed at the house,
he was able to find out that we had a
family of five bigfoots in the area. The alpha male
had an eighteen and a half inch track, which meant
he was about nine feet tall. We both agreed that
they followed the elk since they are a great source
of food, and he told me that the slaps and
scratches on the side of the house were most likely
the young ones messing with us, just like we thought,
and the growl that we had heard was the dad
telling them to knock it off. While he was here.
We had all kinds of bigfoot signs, but unfortunately we
did not hear or see them at all. Since then,
we have heard them a few more times and we've
seen signs of them. Ever, has one come right up
to the house again that we know of. I was
an active paranormal hunter for some time, and I love
the thrill of the unknown. Now I feel honored that
they chose to let their presence be known to me. Wow,
what a long time of experience with these creatures this
person's had. It's a woman. She's talking about moving around
and everywhere they're, everywhere they go there just happens to
be bigfoot. So this was really interesting. Again, I'm one
of these people who never I probably just live in
a place where there aren't any bigfoot. I never see
a sign, I never see a track, I never see
anything that would make me think a bigfoot lives around here.
But these people are in places where apparently they live,
and they're not afraid of humans, and they're pretty conniving
and pretty clever, you know, to stay out of reach.
And so anyway, the whole thing's just fascinated to me.
But I love this story, and to the woman who
sent it, I really appreciate it. It was well written
and very concise and got right to the story. I
thought it was wonderful. Thank you, hey, thanks for listening
to this podcast. I appreciate you listening all the way.
If you can hear this message, you listened all the way. Man,
weren't those spooky stories. I know they're not Bigfoot stories.
Everybody loves the Bigfoot stories. But sometimes these other stories, man,
they get to me. These were exceptional. So thank you
to the writers and thank you for listening, and we
will see you guys on the next podcast. Thanks