Speaker 1: My name is Kim, and I don't mind if you
Speaker 1: use my name. I don't have a Bigfoot story, but
Speaker 1: I do have one that is just as strange. I
Speaker 1: live in a small rural town in Tennessee. I have
Speaker 1: an experience that I've been hesitant to share since it
Speaker 1: happened in nineteen ninety four, when I was eighteen years old.
Speaker 1: Today I'm forty seven, and since this happened, I've only
Speaker 1: told maybe three people since the incident. I'm not sure
Speaker 1: if the three people I told even believe me, because
Speaker 1: I still have trouble believing it myself. It was after
Speaker 1: I had graduated high school. I had a boyfriend who
Speaker 1: lived on a well traveled highway between our small town
Speaker 1: in Perry County and the bigger town we all commuted
Speaker 1: to in Lewis County for shopping and eating. He used
Speaker 1: to always claim in high school that he had seen
Speaker 1: aliens in Ufo on a daily basis. Well, I thought
Speaker 1: he was crazy and had been smoking too much. Weaed
Speaker 1: on a summer evening in nineteen ninety four, I made
Speaker 1: a visit to his house to watch his new satellite
Speaker 1: dish that his parents had just installed. Well, this was
Speaker 1: back when the satellites were as big as a swimming pool.
Speaker 1: I was sitting on the couch enjoying the thousands of
Speaker 1: channels from all over the world when my boyfriend came
Speaker 1: in and calmly said, Kim, come here, I want to
Speaker 1: show you something. We walked out onto the porch into
Speaker 1: the front yard and I looked at him and I said,
Speaker 1: what is it. He pointed up to the top of
Speaker 1: one of the trees in his backyard and he said,
Speaker 1: just look at that. Five hundred feet away. I saw
Speaker 1: a large, dark, circular disk right at the top of
Speaker 1: the trees. There were yellowish looking lights that blinked in
Speaker 1: a sequence, starting from the left of the object to
Speaker 1: the right, and then around again. I heard any noise,
Speaker 1: no motor, no hum. It was absolutely silent. It was
Speaker 1: the size of a basketball court, and it sat in
Speaker 1: a perfectly still position, with just the movement of the
Speaker 1: sequencing lights that seemed to chase each other from left
Speaker 1: to right. Well, I was stunned into silence. I knew,
Speaker 1: deep down, whatever was controlling that object was observing us.
Speaker 1: I never thought I would react that way if I
Speaker 1: ever got lucky enough to see one of these things.
Speaker 1: I always pictured myself before it happened that if I
Speaker 1: had ever seen one, I would be ecstatic and excited,
Speaker 1: but I wasn't. I looked at him one more time,
Speaker 1: not believing my eyes, and I asked him, like a dummy,
Speaker 1: what is that? Even though I already knew what it was,
Speaker 1: thinking there might be a logical explanation. All he said
Speaker 1: was to UFO. I knew whatever it was, it was
Speaker 1: not to be there. And then, for some odd reason,
Speaker 1: I felt the strong urge to calmly go back in
Speaker 1: the house, sit down, and continue to watch TV. And
Speaker 1: that's exactly what I did, I guess. Fifteen minutes went
Speaker 1: by and my boyfriend came back in and he went
Speaker 1: to his room and he shut the door. Well, I
Speaker 1: got up from the couch and I walked outside to leave.
Speaker 1: I looked for the object while I walked back to
Speaker 1: my car, and it was gone. After that, we never
Speaker 1: spoke about it again, and to this day, I couldnot
Speaker 1: figure out why why would we not mention it to
Speaker 1: each other. I know what I saw was real, I
Speaker 1: was awake, and I was not on drugs or alcohol.
Speaker 1: But for some reason, I've always questioned myself as to
Speaker 1: why I reacted the way I did and why he
Speaker 1: reacted the way he did. It was just a rare experience,
Speaker 1: and I don't know if there was a higher power
Speaker 1: involved pushing me to react the way I did. Well.
Speaker 1: We eventually broke up and he moved to Utah. I
Speaker 1: heard recently of another sighting on that road about five
Speaker 1: years ago, while a girl I know was driving on
Speaker 1: that highway. I know this was a short story, but
Speaker 1: I thought I would share it. I thought maybe someone
Speaker 1: out there listening may appreciate it. It may have been
Speaker 1: through something similar. I enjoy listening to your podcast every
Speaker 1: morning while I get up and get ready for work.
Speaker 1: Keep doing what you do. You're doing a great job.
Speaker 1: And she says, thank you, Kim, Thank you Kim for
Speaker 1: the story. You did a great job writing this. That's
Speaker 1: the biggest compliment, not that I'm doing a good job,
Speaker 1: but you guys do a great job writing these. This
Speaker 1: was an interesting story. I love these UFO stories. Okay,
Speaker 1: fair warning. This story has a lot of places, has
Speaker 1: a lot of places that have spanned names and French
Speaker 1: names that I may get wrong, so get ready for
Speaker 1: a laugh. But I just can't pronounce them because I've
Speaker 1: never heard some of them before Nielma edited this. She goes,
Speaker 1: there wasn't really much to do to it because the
Speaker 1: person is a talented writer, and so this should be
Speaker 1: a good story. And I'm reading this cold, so just
Speaker 1: hang on to your weaves, all right. Here we go.
Speaker 1: It's a bigfoot story. Growing up in the nineteen seventies
Speaker 1: in the small town of Monroe, Louisiana, we heard all
Speaker 1: kinds of stories about the history of the town and
Speaker 1: that region of northeast Louisiana. For a sleepy little town
Speaker 1: nestled in the curves of the Wachita River, the Bayous,
Speaker 1: and the swamps, you would never guess that it had
Speaker 1: been a place of habitation for several cultures going back
Speaker 1: nearly six thousand years now. I spent a lot of
Speaker 1: time sitting around and listening to my grandfather and one
Speaker 1: or two uncles as they told stories of things that
Speaker 1: they encountered on hunting trips, or why working around the
Speaker 1: family farm, or the stories of what other relatives had
Speaker 1: experienced in the bayou and swamp country around Monroe. As
Speaker 1: a kid, I enjoyed all the stories, even if I
Speaker 1: didn't quite believe them or thought there might have been
Speaker 1: a bit of leg pulling going on. This syria had
Speaker 1: been settled and lived in for thousands of years by
Speaker 1: Native Americans, with the oldest mound complex found in the
Speaker 1: Western Hemisphere and it dates back fifty four hundred years
Speaker 1: and it's found in the northwestern part of Monroe at
Speaker 1: the Watson Breaks site. The Poverty Point World Heritage Site,
Speaker 1: which is the largest known earthworks in North America, is
Speaker 1: only a fifty minute drive to the east. Another facet
Speaker 1: of the local history was the Spanish colonial past pastad
Speaker 1: do watchitall? That was stor I think it was. That
Speaker 1: means post watchitall. I think that was started in seventeen
Speaker 1: and renamed after the Spanish governor Estevan miro As Fort
Speaker 1: Mirou in seventeen ninety one when the fort was constructed.
Speaker 1: As the settlement expanded with French and Americans moving into
Speaker 1: the area, the settlement would be renamed Monroe in eighteen
Speaker 1: twenty after the arrival of the steamboat James Monroe. The
Speaker 1: town was also part of the Vicksburg Campaign as a
Speaker 1: supply depot and hospital during the Civil War. Some of
Speaker 1: the stories told to me growing up were from the
Speaker 1: Spanish and later American settlers and also from the earlier
Speaker 1: Native American people. There were stories of giant, hairy manlike
Speaker 1: creatures who lived in the deepest part of the swamps
Speaker 1: and who did not tolerate trespassers. There were beings who
Speaker 1: could change their shapes to look like animals, and other
Speaker 1: stories were about people who would disappear out in the
Speaker 1: swamps with never a tree to be found. Of course,
Speaker 1: there were plenty of ghost stories around the Old Garden district,
Speaker 1: and Monroe had more than its share of haunt houses.
Speaker 1: I experienced a few of these things in some of
Speaker 1: those two hundred year old homes that I can't explain.
Speaker 1: But those are stories for another time. By the way,
Speaker 1: if you ever feel like writing those stories, brother, please
Speaker 1: send them in because I'll get them. I'll get them
Speaker 1: on the podcast. Back to the story. In nineteen seventy five,
Speaker 1: I had my own close encounter with a bigfoot out
Speaker 1: along the Watchtaw River among those ancient Spanish moss draped
Speaker 1: trees and waterways. My mom and I had gone on
Speaker 1: one of the periodic camping trips our Baptist Church put
Speaker 1: together for our congregation in the late summer of that year.
Speaker 1: This particular camping trip was to Moon Lake, north of Monroe.
Speaker 1: This area is adjacent to the Black Bayou National Wildlife
Speaker 1: Refuse that has a long history of the range things
Speaker 1: happening and sightings of strange creatures. If you had a
Speaker 1: canoe or a flat bottom aluminum boat, you could go
Speaker 1: out on the switchbacks of the watch Taw River and
Speaker 1: eventually you would cross over the Black Bayou itself or
Speaker 1: by you Dissard, I think I pronounced that right, Disiard.
Speaker 1: The further up the side by us you went, the
Speaker 1: thicker the curtains of moss hanging from the trees would
Speaker 1: grow until you could see only a few yards in
Speaker 1: any direction. Now, back in the nineteen seventies, the area
Speaker 1: around Moon Lake was still fairly wild and undeveloped, and
Speaker 1: it was by you territory, with only a few scattered
Speaker 1: houses and trailers off the old State Road five point
Speaker 1: fifty three as the crow flies. It was only about
Speaker 1: five miles from my dad's house, but that short fifteen
Speaker 1: minute drive would take you from the civilized comforts of
Speaker 1: town living to another world of moss, drape, tree and dabble,
Speaker 1: sunlight and foggy swamps inhabited by alligators. And other creatures.
Speaker 1: Our church used a camp at the lake for family
Speaker 1: weekend getaways and for some retreats. The camp was on
Speaker 1: the east side of the lake, between the road and
Speaker 1: the main body of the lake, with the river making
Speaker 1: the northern boundary. It was an old camp, but it
Speaker 1: was well maintained, and the main camp was clear and level,
Speaker 1: but surrounded by old trees and bushes. On this weekend,
Speaker 1: families had started arriving late Friday afternoon, with the rest
Speaker 1: coming in early Saturday morning to set up their tents
Speaker 1: and personal camp sites within the larger camping area. As
Speaker 1: each family arrived, more of the kids I knew would
Speaker 1: be running around and playing tiger chase or hide and seek,
Speaker 1: And during one particular wild run through the camp, I
Speaker 1: missed seeing a tent rope that caught me right across
Speaker 1: my face, and I proudly wore that diagonal rope burn
Speaker 1: across my face for several days and enjoyed my badge
Speaker 1: of honor. Saturday progressed and we moved to exploring the
Speaker 1: area outside of the campgrounds, which included walking aways up
Speaker 1: the shallow river banks, skipping rocks across the slow moving current,
Speaker 1: and looking for arrowheads. We didn't find anything, but we
Speaker 1: had a grand time poking around in the soft soil,
Speaker 1: and we made a full day of it. At dusk,
Speaker 1: everyone was called in for dinner and visiting, and my
Speaker 1: friends and I group together for a dinner of hot
Speaker 1: dogs and chips and beans and potato salad. And while
Speaker 1: we were eating, we noticed the dogs that some of
Speaker 1: the families had brought with them were tracking around the
Speaker 1: campground and occasionally whining. And since we were among the
Speaker 1: trees and therefore more to the north and west, the
Speaker 1: setting sun made a long and broken shadow between the
Speaker 1: trunks and the hanging moss, it made it difficult to
Speaker 1: see what the dogs were reacting too. It did not
Speaker 1: make much of an impression on me at the time,
Speaker 1: and as soon as we finished eating, we ran back
Speaker 1: into the woods for an evening edition of hide and seek.
Speaker 1: After about an hour, we went back and picked up
Speaker 1: some flashlights so that we could continue our game until
Speaker 1: our parents would eventually call us in for the night.
Speaker 1: And we gathered back together and we stood talking at
Speaker 1: the edge of the clearing, and a small stick was
Speaker 1: thrown into our group from the area just outside the
Speaker 1: lantern light. Well, we thought it was one of the
Speaker 1: other kids, so we started trying to find them, but
Speaker 1: we never saw anyone, but every couple of minutes another
Speaker 1: stick would be thrown from the trees. Eventually, we started
Speaker 1: concentrating our flashlights in one beam and swinging them back
Speaker 1: and forth, and we tried throwing sticks and small rocks
Speaker 1: back to the trees to see if we could flush
Speaker 1: out whoever it was, but we didn't have any success.
Speaker 1: After another ten minutes of this, we still didn't see anything,
Speaker 1: and then another stick came flying out of the trees.
Speaker 1: This time it came from higher up. We swung the
Speaker 1: flashlight beams up about ten feet and at first we
Speaker 1: didn't see anything but a curt of Spanish moss hanging
Speaker 1: from a branch close to the tree trunk, and then
Speaker 1: a face pushed out of the moss. Our first thought
Speaker 1: was one of the kids had climbed up the trunk,
Speaker 1: but on closer inspection, though, we realized that the face
Speaker 1: was not entirely human. After a stunned a few seconds,
Speaker 1: a body that was fully ten to eleven feet tall,
Speaker 1: covered in shaggy brown hair, stepped out from the tree
Speaker 1: trunk and moss less than twenty feet away from us.
Speaker 1: We started yelling and running back to the camp, while
Speaker 1: whatever this was disappeared at a loping run back to
Speaker 1: the north. The adults who came r at our yelling
Speaker 1: listened to our hurried description and then took off in pursuit.
Speaker 1: They too, caught a few glimpses as the bigfoot ran
Speaker 1: through the undergrowth and then dove into the river to
Speaker 1: make its escape. When the adults came back to camp,
Speaker 1: every family packed up and left that night without another
Speaker 1: word being said about the events of that night, And
Speaker 1: for several years after that event, you would hear stories
Speaker 1: of strange happenings around the Moonlake area. Whoo, that's a
Speaker 1: There was a lot of lead up to the actual
Speaker 1: apex of that story, but it was all important because
Speaker 1: you kind of get a feel for the area and
Speaker 1: why they were there and what was going on in
Speaker 1: the mood of the kids playing, and then the this
Speaker 1: face pushes through Spanish moss. If you could see me,
Speaker 1: I've got my shoulders all scrunched up behind my head
Speaker 1: because it's given me the creeps. Man, what a great story.
Speaker 1: I love that story. I appreciate the writer and regarding
Speaker 1: the houses and whatever happened in the haunted houses that
Speaker 1: you claim was a time for another story. I would
Speaker 1: appreciate getting those from you. I'll be glad to put
Speaker 1: them on the intern. I'll be glad to put them
Speaker 1: on the podcast, because, dude, you know how to tell
Speaker 1: a story. Anyway, Thank you for sending it. I really
Speaker 1: do appreciate it. When I was growing up in South
Speaker 1: Carolina in the nineteen fifties, we never heard stories about
Speaker 1: encounters with Bigfoot or families of Bigfoot. When I had
Speaker 1: my first encounter, I didn't know what they were or
Speaker 1: what to call them. I think my dad must have
Speaker 1: known something about them, but he never talked about it.
Speaker 1: We lived on a farm deep in the country, somewhere
Speaker 1: between Honia Path and Greenwood. We kept all kinds of livestock, chickens, hogs,
Speaker 1: and a few cows and a couple of goats. Along
Speaker 1: with them, we had dogs and cats, and there was
Speaker 1: no grass around the house because the hogs and the
Speaker 1: chickens and the other animals roamed freely about eating everything
Speaker 1: in sight, not to mention the damage that we three
Speaker 1: girls could do. Now, Mom and Dad didn't have any sons,
Speaker 1: but my sisters and I were just as tough and
Speaker 1: wild as any boys could be. Dad worked our little
Speaker 1: farm while holding down a job at the fabric mill,
Speaker 1: and were shoals. They wove and printed the fabric and
Speaker 1: then shipped it off to various other places to be
Speaker 1: made into clothes and such. And at that time they
Speaker 1: were printing camouflage material, and that meant the deer hunters
Speaker 1: around there always had cheap, misprinted cameo cloth to take
Speaker 1: home to their wives so they could make them into
Speaker 1: hunting clothes. I remember one hot Saturday afternoon in the summer.
Speaker 1: Dad was busy with the cows and Mom asked me
Speaker 1: to run to the store for her to pick a
Speaker 1: few items up. It was a little corner store set
Speaker 1: on an intersection in the middle of nowhere. Normally, my
Speaker 1: older sister would go with me, but she wasn't feeling
Speaker 1: well that day, and my younger sister was still too little.
Speaker 1: The store was only a half mile away and there
Speaker 1: were almost never any cars on the road, but I
Speaker 1: was old enough to know betther than to talk to strangers.
Speaker 1: Even if there had been a car, it was likely
Speaker 1: to be someone we knew. Now. That was back when
Speaker 1: cochs were and nickel and snicker bars were three cents.
Speaker 1: I took my time getting to the store. I remember
Speaker 1: a turtle that needed poking with a stick, A few
Speaker 1: insects were begging for inspections, and I couldn't resist the
Speaker 1: wildflowers that were in full bloom. But I eventually got
Speaker 1: there and handed my list over to the storekeeper. It
Speaker 1: wasn't a long list, but there was enough on it
Speaker 1: to tell me that Mama was getting ready to bake
Speaker 1: us a cake. It was hot that day. I knew
Speaker 1: I would practically have to run back to keep the
Speaker 1: butter from melting. Well. I liked running before a ten
Speaker 1: year old, I was pretty fast, well on that day,
Speaker 1: I was determined to break my old record. Lucky for me,
Speaker 1: I thought I had wasted enough time getting there that
Speaker 1: the sun was beginning to sink behind the trees to
Speaker 1: the west. The shadows were getting longer, but that meant
Speaker 1: the trip home wouldn't be quite so hot as the
Speaker 1: walk there. I had just about reached the long dirt
Speaker 1: drive that led to our farmhouse when I noticed an
Speaker 1: awful dead smell that wasn't there earlier. It seemed to
Speaker 1: be coming in wiffs on the breeze from somewhere inside
Speaker 1: the tree line. Now, those woods are thick with pines,
Speaker 1: and so thick that it was almost like night once
Speaker 1: you got past the outer boundary. We never ventured in there. Ever.
Speaker 1: Dad used to tell us that there might be bears
Speaker 1: in there. Well, we never saw one, but if Dad
Speaker 1: said they were there, we believed it. We didn't need
Speaker 1: to play in those old woods anyway. There was more
Speaker 1: than enough space to play in the sunlight or under
Speaker 1: the big shape trees on the farm. As I turned
Speaker 1: to head up the drive, that smell got stronger, and
Speaker 1: I shifted my groceries from one arm to the other.
Speaker 1: The rattle of that paper bag muffled another noise that
Speaker 1: I was sure didn't come from me. It was a
Speaker 1: crackling sound like sticks breaking somewhere beyond the trees. And
Speaker 1: then I caught a glimpse of something moving to my right,
Speaker 1: just inside the tree line. I assured myself that I
Speaker 1: was hearing squirrels or birds and letting my imagination make
Speaker 1: giants out of shadows. I was making good time, but
Speaker 1: I couldn't seem to outrun the sun. I was sure
Speaker 1: it was dropping faster than usual that afternoon, and even
Speaker 1: though the fear was starting to creep in. I had
Speaker 1: to slow down. It was still pretty hot and humid,
Speaker 1: and I was getting tired. The house came into view,
Speaker 1: and so did something else. I didn't quite understand what
Speaker 1: I was looking at. I just knew that something tall
Speaker 1: and dark was st at the edge of the trees
Speaker 1: ahead of me. There was an embankment there that went
Speaker 1: up the right side of the drive, and the tall
Speaker 1: trees came to a point at the top of it.
Speaker 1: That was where the taller, slender, black, hairy figure stepped out.
Speaker 1: I could see its face clearly. It was almost human,
Speaker 1: but not quite. I had seen pictures of monkeys, but
Speaker 1: this thing didn't have a snout or a nose that
Speaker 1: protruded like one. Its ears were small, and it had
Speaker 1: a pronounced brow line, with deep set eyes that looked
Speaker 1: black or very dark brown. The hair on its body
Speaker 1: was kind of long, but more so on its arms
Speaker 1: and around its head. It didn't really have a neck,
Speaker 1: but its arms were long and almost to its knees.
Speaker 1: Or maybe they just looked that way because it was
Speaker 1: stooped a little. I thought it was smiling at me,
Speaker 1: but it was such a creepy looking grin and it
Speaker 1: made its wide mouth almost sinister. I don't think it
Speaker 1: was trying to scare me, but it sure was doing
Speaker 1: a good job of it. In an effort to figure
Speaker 1: out what I was looking at, I took a few
Speaker 1: steps closer to it, and in turn, it took another
Speaker 1: step down the embankment, and then I took another step,
Speaker 1: and it took another until it was all the way
Speaker 1: to the bottom. That's when I stopped, and I started screaming.
Speaker 1: My kids have a high pitched scream that runs right
Speaker 1: through you out there in the country. It really traveled.
Speaker 1: It was enough to bring Dad running with his double
Speaker 1: barrel shotgun. I never thought of my dad as being
Speaker 1: small until I compared him to the monster. It must
Speaker 1: have been twice my dad's height. The creature went back
Speaker 1: up the embankment, and it looked like it dissipated into
Speaker 1: the dark forest. And to this day, I'm not sure
Speaker 1: if my dad ever saw it. He had a confused
Speaker 1: look on his face, and I never heard him shoot.
Speaker 1: Either he didn't see it or he was afraid of
Speaker 1: shooting me by accident. He stood there and waited as
Speaker 1: I ran to him, and then we both went inside.
Speaker 1: I don't know what I was looking at that day,
Speaker 1: but I do now. I'll never know what he wanted.
Speaker 1: Maybe he smelled what was in the bag and he
Speaker 1: was hungry. I doubt anyone really knows what they are
Speaker 1: or how they managed to hide so well for their size.
Speaker 1: But what I do know now is that I do
Speaker 1: believe in Bigfoot.