Speaker 1: I've lived at the foot of this mountain in southeast
Speaker 1: Oklahoma for twenty years, and all that time I've seen
Speaker 1: these critters twice, but I've heard them many times. They
Speaker 1: howl and whoop and chatter, or they make a bird sound,
Speaker 1: which if it were a bird, it would have to
Speaker 1: be the size of a house to make a sound
Speaker 1: that loud. They eat the pears off my trees, but
Speaker 1: they always bring me one with no marks on it.
Speaker 1: They leave me a perfect pair. They lay it in
Speaker 1: the same spot in my driveway every time, where I
Speaker 1: can see it from the porch when I have my
Speaker 1: morning coffee, and if they're out to hurt me, they've
Speaker 1: had apple opportunity to do so. The first time I
Speaker 1: saw one was when I glanced out in my bedroom
Speaker 1: window as I was walking down the hall. There it
Speaker 1: was a face looking in the window. I could tell
Speaker 1: it was a young one. It was gray with large eyes,
Speaker 1: and when it registered what I had seen, I stepped
Speaker 1: back to look again, but it was gone. The second
Speaker 1: time I saw one, I was putting clothes in my
Speaker 1: washing machine and I glanced out the window above the washer.
Speaker 1: This one was very shiny black, and I think it
Speaker 1: may have just been in the pond that's farthest away
Speaker 1: from my home. I don't know for sure, but I
Speaker 1: know it was not a bear. A few days later,
Speaker 1: my husband and I walked out to where I saw
Speaker 1: it and measured him beside a small tree that I
Speaker 1: saw it walk behind the tree came to the hairy
Speaker 1: person's waist, and when my husband walked behind that tree,
Speaker 1: it was over his head. My husband is six feet tall,
Speaker 1: the hairy person must have been eight or nine feet tall.
Speaker 1: My point is they are here, and they are real.
Speaker 1: There is simple proof out there. They are not a
Speaker 1: grete eight. DNA has been tested and tested and then
Speaker 1: tested some more. They do have bodies, and the question
Speaker 1: we should be asking is why the government is trying
Speaker 1: to keep them a secret from the American people. They
Speaker 1: are not a joke or a sitting around the campfire
Speaker 1: scary story. They are real. The DNA shows them to
Speaker 1: be a human hybrid. Every American should be asking our
Speaker 1: government to let people know about them. While the secrets,
Speaker 1: is it the money or is it something else? And
Speaker 1: after all these years, the government has finally come out
Speaker 1: and said, yes there are UFOs. We Americans have known
Speaker 1: that for years. We benefited from that secret? Who benefits
Speaker 1: from this one? Voices United make a mighty roar, and
Speaker 1: that's the end of our email. And I agree. If
Speaker 1: these things are real, it's and the government knows about it,
Speaker 1: and they have bodies and there's been DNA testing that
Speaker 1: shows they are a human hybrid, then you know, why
Speaker 1: not just make it clear? I don't. That subject is
Speaker 1: so deep. I just can't I can't even begin to
Speaker 1: think about it because I don't know. I'm just busy.
Speaker 1: People with less busy minds can probably think about that
Speaker 1: and maybe come up with some theories. And all they
Speaker 1: are is theories. All we have is ideas. Unless the
Speaker 1: government comes out or some school or college or whoever
Speaker 1: would be a reputable give a reputable representation of the species.
Speaker 1: Until they come out and actually show the evidence a body,
Speaker 1: then we're just never going to know. We're not going
Speaker 1: to know. But this was interesting. I like that there's
Speaker 1: two stories in a row where there's gifting going on.
Speaker 1: I don't think she's gifting them, but they're leaving her
Speaker 1: a pair in her driveway. That's pretty cool. Thank you
Speaker 1: man for the story. I really appreciate it. As a
Speaker 1: nine year old in the nineteen eighties. I spent most of,
Speaker 1: if not all, of my time in the woods. From
Speaker 1: the time I could crawl. My mom sent me outside
Speaker 1: to play with our Rhodesian ridgeback bullet. Somewhere in the
Speaker 1: rubber maid container full of photographs is a picture of
Speaker 1: me and a diaper propped up against a bullet under
Speaker 1: our house with a bottle I lived outside. The first
Speaker 1: day of the first grade, I was already deep in
Speaker 1: the swamp when I heard my mom yelling from the
Speaker 1: porch to come home and eat breakfast and get ready
Speaker 1: for school. School hadn't even thought about it until that moment.
Speaker 1: My life to that point had been a blur of camo,
Speaker 1: my Swiss army knife buttoned into a leather sheath on
Speaker 1: my hip, a machetty, my dog, and the twenty thousand
Speaker 1: acres of wildlife preserved behind our little patch of swamp
Speaker 1: in Christmas, Florida. At that time, the little town of
Speaker 1: Christmas was composed solely of a post office, a church,
Speaker 1: and a thirty foot Christmas tree that was lit year
Speaker 1: round off the side of Highway fifty seven in the
Speaker 1: middle of nowhere. Nowhere was just how I liked it.
Speaker 1: I fished and trapped and built every kind of fort
Speaker 1: imaginable among the pal meadows and the cypress of those swamps.
Speaker 1: When I was nine, my dad helped me build a
Speaker 1: little hut with a thatched roof made from palmeadows. It
Speaker 1: was long and narrow, and the perfect size to hang
Speaker 1: my hammock. Despite having spent so much of my life
Speaker 1: in the woods until then, I had never spent a
Speaker 1: night alone out there. With my new hut, I decided
Speaker 1: that this was the time to attempt my first solo
Speaker 1: camping trip. I had to prove it to myself and
Speaker 1: my dad that I was a woodsman that I claimed
Speaker 1: to be. Later that day, with my machete in hand,
Speaker 1: I hacked my way the quarter of a mile or
Speaker 1: so into the swamp behind our house to my hut.
Speaker 1: As the sun's lash rays began to fade and darkness
Speaker 1: swallowed the air around me, I struck my lighter to
Speaker 1: start a fire, and I was looking forward to the
Speaker 1: eggs and sausage that I was planning to cook for dinner.
Speaker 1: The same instant the flame sprung from my lighter, a
Speaker 1: scream erupted from the swamp not thirty feet into the
Speaker 1: darkness behind me. It was a kind of blood curling,
Speaker 1: freezer muscle scream that send your mind racing. It sounded
Speaker 1: like a woman was being stabbed to death in the
Speaker 1: palmetto patch, and I strained to see something, but the
Speaker 1: night was already so thick that I couldn't see. I
Speaker 1: sat frozen in terror, and a few seconds later the
Speaker 1: sound of the scream had faded, and I was relieved
Speaker 1: to find my heart had an actually explode. It felt
Speaker 1: like an eternity as I struggled to comprehend what I
Speaker 1: had just heard. Who would be all the way back
Speaker 1: here in the dark. If they were here, they were trespassing.
Speaker 1: Could it have been a poacher? Why were they murdering
Speaker 1: a woman? Who was she? Was I next? In reality?
Speaker 1: All of these thoughts flashed through my mind in less
Speaker 1: than a second. My heart had just begun to slow
Speaker 1: its relentless effort to escape my rib cage when a
Speaker 1: roar that shook my insides exploded from the same patch
Speaker 1: of pal meadows behind me. It was followed by another screen.
Speaker 1: A lion was now eating the woman. But no, lions
Speaker 1: didn't live here, I thought, the urge to mess my pants.
Speaker 1: There was no conscious decision between flight or fight. There
Speaker 1: wasn't time. I was already flying down the path towards
Speaker 1: the house. Later, all that I would remember of my
Speaker 1: escape was passing the pond that marked the halfway point
Speaker 1: back to the house, and the next thing I knew,
Speaker 1: I was beating at the French doors on the back
Speaker 1: porch with all my strength. My Dad had been in
Speaker 1: his room reading when he heard my pleading and relentless
Speaker 1: assault on the glass panels. Open the door. It's me,
Speaker 1: I screamed. There's a guy in the woods with a knife.
Speaker 1: He's killing her. That was all I could think to say.
Speaker 1: Dad rushed to the door and opened it and asked,
Speaker 1: what in the world was wrong with me now? I
Speaker 1: explained that I had just heard a woman being murdered,
Speaker 1: and then lions roaring. Well. Then he started to laugh,
Speaker 1: and I wasn't amused. Your hair is standing straight up,
Speaker 1: he said. I didn't give a right speckle backside what
Speaker 1: my hair was doing. A woman was being murdered. She
Speaker 1: was being stabbed to death and eaten or whatever, right
Speaker 1: in our backyard. It was probably a cougar, he explained,
Speaker 1: They sometimes do that. I decided that I'd had enough
Speaker 1: for one night. I'd have to attempt a solo camp
Speaker 1: some other time when I was sure no women, bears, lions,
Speaker 1: or cougars or axe murderers were out and about in
Speaker 1: the dark. I've spent plenty of nights in the woods
Speaker 1: since then, both alone and with others, but I've never
Speaker 1: again heard anything like that. I was only nine at
Speaker 1: the time, but I'm pretty sure I broke speed records
Speaker 1: that night, and I don't think my feet ever touched
Speaker 1: the ground. Whoa man, What a story These stories with
Speaker 1: the children. You know, when these people are small and
Speaker 1: they have these encounters, we listened to them, and we're
Speaker 1: kind of entertained by these stories. I mean, really, we
Speaker 1: are entertained by these stories. But if you put yourself
Speaker 1: in their shoes, oh my gosh, you know, it's just
Speaker 1: got to be terrifying. It would have been for me
Speaker 1: at nine years old. I know that. And there were
Speaker 1: things that scared me at nine, nothing like a bigfoot
Speaker 1: or anything like that. But you know, you're very impressionable.
Speaker 1: Fear level is like off the charts when something scares you.
Speaker 1: And so that's why I kind of, I don't know,
Speaker 1: I kind of identify with these stories. People reminisce about
Speaker 1: their childhood and these weird things that happen. But Matt,
Speaker 1: this was a great story and I really appreciate you
Speaker 1: sending it. I'm gonna look up on the map where Christmas,
Speaker 1: Florida is. I've never heard of it. Well, I'm just
Speaker 1: gonna look it up and figure out where it is.
Speaker 1: Maybe time next time i'm down there, I'm gonna go
Speaker 1: look at that Christmas tree. I live on Fort Hill
Speaker 1: overlooking Charleston, West Virginia. Over the last thirty five years,
Speaker 1: I've heard bigfoot screams many times. On cold winter nights.
Speaker 1: The dogs up on this hill will start barking until
Speaker 1: a terrible scream echoes down across the valley and silences them.
Speaker 1: I've heard tree knocks up here, screaming as if a
Speaker 1: woman is being murdered in whoops, and jabbering like humans
Speaker 1: talking but not human. This seems to happen most often
Speaker 1: around the fourth of July. I guess that's because of
Speaker 1: all the fireworks disturbing the creatures deep in the woods.
Speaker 1: I've heard these same sounds on the Internet, listed under sysquatch, sabe,
Speaker 1: and Bigfoot. In twenty eighteen, mold A Sun and a
Speaker 1: few of his friends were shooting off fireworks in a
Speaker 1: parking lot in a neighboring town not too far from
Speaker 1: our home. When they got there around ten pm, they
Speaker 1: decided to walk to the top of the hill, where
Speaker 1: there was a water reservoir. They reasoned that they'd be
Speaker 1: far away from any homes at the top of that
Speaker 1: hill and they could shoot the fireworks high into the
Speaker 1: air there. Besides, if anything went wrong, they figured they
Speaker 1: had an immediate water source. They walked up this hill
Speaker 1: through the dark woods with only their flashlight to guide them.
Speaker 1: It had rained that afternoon and a low fog was
Speaker 1: hanging in the air. The path was paved with asphalt
Speaker 1: with gravel on both sides. The boys took turns carrying
Speaker 1: the box while the girls were busy walking and talking
Speaker 1: in the front. There's a fork in the path halfway
Speaker 1: up that hill, and one fork leads straight up on
Speaker 1: the hill while the other stays low and wraps around
Speaker 1: the reservoir. The girls took the wrong fork. The boys
Speaker 1: weren't paying attention as they continued down the wrong path.
Speaker 1: They began to hear someone walking over in the woods,
Speaker 1: and my son realized they should have reached the reservoir
Speaker 1: by then, so he told the girls to stop. Don't
Speaker 1: be silly. They told him we'll be there soon. They
Speaker 1: pointed out that they'd stayed on the path and kept walking.
Speaker 1: My son is a high functioning autistic. He thinks a
Speaker 1: little bit different than others. He said, I hear somebody
Speaker 1: walking behind us, walking in the gravel. Look y'all, I'm scared.
Speaker 1: I want to go home. Someone in the group suggested
Speaker 1: they shot off the fireworks where they were, that they'd
Speaker 1: gone far, and the girls agreed. My son said, I
Speaker 1: think this is a bad idea. We need to get
Speaker 1: home now. The other kids laughed at him and called
Speaker 1: him a scaredy cat. They pulled out one of the
Speaker 1: coffee can sized fireworks and they lit it. It spewed
Speaker 1: on for about two minutes, sparkling and lightning and popping
Speaker 1: and crackling, and finally it went out and everything went
Speaker 1: silent and dark, and from the woods they heard a
Speaker 1: low growl. See. I told you he wouldn't like it.
Speaker 1: My son said, it's time to go. We gotta go now.
Speaker 1: The boys hurriedly picked up the box while the girls
Speaker 1: were screaming. They all went running back down the hill,
Speaker 1: leaving my son behind in the dark, and he heard
Speaker 1: the growl again. I'm sorry, mister, he said, it was
Speaker 1: their idea to set it off in your house. Now,
Speaker 1: I'm going to start walking and I'm going to leave
Speaker 1: your house now, and I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'm
Speaker 1: going to go now. I did not mean to dishonor you,
Speaker 1: and the growling stopped. My grandfather told me about the
Speaker 1: old Man of the Mountain when I was just a
Speaker 1: little girl. He taught me about the old ways and
Speaker 1: what to do when being confronted by a sisquatch. Don't
Speaker 1: make eye contact and speak loudly, but be non confrontational.
Speaker 1: Be respectful, but don't show fear, and do not run
Speaker 1: no matter what. That's exactly what my son did. He
Speaker 1: told me that the sisquatch followed him down the mountain,
Speaker 1: keeping about ten feet back. He could hear it walking
Speaker 1: in the gravel. He used to cell phone to light
Speaker 1: his way, but he never looked aback, and when he
Speaker 1: got to the car, the others were yelling for him
Speaker 1: to hurry. It's right behind you, they said, But my
Speaker 1: son continued his slow, steady pace to the car, and
Speaker 1: he never once looked aback. He got into the car,
Speaker 1: and as they sped out of the parking lot, he
Speaker 1: caught sight of it in the headlights. It was standing
Speaker 1: at the edge of the path swaying back and forth.
Speaker 1: He said it was nine feet tall, and it was
Speaker 1: covered in black hair, and its arms were longer than
Speaker 1: a human, and it had green eyeshine. When the other
Speaker 1: kids dropped my son off, they were all nervous. The
Speaker 1: girls were crying. They were all talking over each other,
Speaker 1: trying to tell me what happened, But my son was
Speaker 1: calm and sober, like a priest. I sent the other
Speaker 1: kids home and I had my son recount a story,
Speaker 1: and I believe every word of it. Oh wow, what
Speaker 1: a great story. An autistic kid caught out in the
Speaker 1: woods shooting fireworks by a bigfoot. He sure did a
Speaker 1: good job getting out of there by not running and
Speaker 1: not being confrontational. That's I guess that's the way he
Speaker 1: made it out. Who knows if this thing would have
Speaker 1: hurt him otherwise, but it was just escorting him out.
Speaker 1: What a great story. Okay, this is a short This
Speaker 1: is a little short story that I've had for a
Speaker 1: little while, and it's not real scary or anything, and
Speaker 1: it's not a bigfoot story, but it's very heartwarming. The
Speaker 1: writer's name is Missy. She writes, I heard you reading
Speaker 1: a ghost story. Now, I haven't seen a bigfoot, but
Speaker 1: I have seen a ghost on more than one occasion.
Speaker 1: Most are just a fleeting moment of a stranger, but
Speaker 1: this one was special. My husband was in the Marine
Speaker 1: Corps and we were stationed in Yuma, Arizona. We were
Speaker 1: living on the base in base housing in Yuma. We're
Speaker 1: from the same little town in Alabama, not too far
Speaker 1: from Mississippi. At the time, I was twenty six weeks
Speaker 1: pregnant and did not know it yet, but things were
Speaker 1: about to get scary. I woke up in the middle
Speaker 1: of the night to see my mama and two people
Speaker 1: that I didn't know. I think they were her parents.
Speaker 1: They died before I was born, so I only have
Speaker 1: seen old black and white pictures. They all looked concerned.
Speaker 1: I was startled but excited to see her. She had
Speaker 1: passed away just under two years before then. They disappeared
Speaker 1: in just a few seconds. Now. I got up and
Speaker 1: went down the hall, but they were gone. What I
Speaker 1: didn't know was at twenty seven weeks, I would be
Speaker 1: hospitalized for pre eclampsia, eclampsia, eclampsia, I'm not sure what
Speaker 1: that is. I would go home after a couple of
Speaker 1: days on bed rest. However, on my next check up
Speaker 1: at twenty nine weeks, my blood pressure was out of
Speaker 1: the roof, so I was taken to the hospital. I
Speaker 1: was about to go full eclamtic and be air ambulance
Speaker 1: to Phoenix. My son was delivered by cesarean section and
Speaker 1: was in NICU for three months until his due date.
Speaker 1: He was born one pound in twelve ounces, and if
Speaker 1: not for the grace of God and the good care
Speaker 1: at Good sam and Phoenix Children's Hospital, we would have died.
Speaker 1: I think Mama was either there just worried or preparing
Speaker 1: to take us home. My son was lucky and he
Speaker 1: never had to go back into the hospital. A lot
Speaker 1: of premies do have to revisit a bit. But he's
Speaker 1: now five foot ten and he's a radiology He is
Speaker 1: a radiology technologist, and she writes, that's a fancy name
Speaker 1: for the person that takes your X ray in the hospital.
Speaker 1: We're blessed to still be here on this big blue
Speaker 1: ball and to have family no matter where they may be.
Speaker 1: Thanks for working so hard doing these stories. You can
Speaker 1: use my nickname Missy. What a great story. One pound
Speaker 1: twelve ounces. Just think about that, these babies. He was
Speaker 1: twenty nine weeks think it was twenty nine. He was
Speaker 1: born by caesarean, weighing one pound twelve ounces. I don't know.
Speaker 1: There's a lot of argument going on about if these
Speaker 1: fetuses or people or humans or not, you know, the
Speaker 1: whole debate. And this is one of the things that
Speaker 1: always really makes me wonder if a baby can be
Speaker 1: born at one pound twelve ounces and grow up be
Speaker 1: a five foot ten radiology technologist, which again is a
Speaker 1: fancy name for a person that takes your extra at
Speaker 1: the hospital. It's pretty compelling, pretty compelling. Save those babies.