Speaker 1: All right, here's one from Michigan. The writer says, I
grew up in a small town in southern Michigan. The
name of the town was Seamen City. I had to
be around eleven or twelve years old. The road I
lived on led straight into a dead end at Gate
three into mis which is the Michigan International Speedway in Brooklyn, Michigan.
Our house was four miles from the speedway. It was
in the mid to late seventies. I have an uncle
that is only three years older than me. Because my
grandparents had a change of life baby whoa Anyway, to
try to make a long story short, my grandpa and
grandma and my uncle came to visit. My uncle and
I went for a walk, heading over to see one
of my friends that lived three quarters of a mile
from me. As we were walking, it was like the
times Stoptors. Something in the sky made it go dark.
It's hard to talk about, but something happened that day
to me and him and I just talked about it
for the first time a few months ago, but we
both came to our senses. We were looking up at
a spaceship hovering just above the treetop level. This thing
was huge, and it didn't make a sound, and it
slowly pulled away and like a flash, it was gone.
My uncle and I ran back to the house to
find out that we were gone for over two hours,
and we started telling my father, mother, and grandfather what
we had seen. They told us that we were making
the story up, and they said we were crazy and
we had been hiding from them. They had been out
driving around looking for us. Later that night, it was
on the six o'clock news that there was a spacecraft
hovering over the Michigan International Speedway and they had all
the roads closed around the speedway, and our government tried
to cover it up. I can't say what happened with
the time. We never talked about it. Like I said, Well,
they just walk out the door, start walking down that road,
this spaceship comes over. They lose two hours of time.
They get back, the grandparents are all hacked off because
they've been out riding around looking for him. Now that's creepy.
That's a creepy story. Right there, you're walking down the
road and all of a sudden, I don't know where
they sucked up in the spaceship. I don't know, you
know what very plausible. There's all kind of stories like
this around. I really appreciate his name is Ronald. He
didn't tell me not to use his name, Ronald. I
know I've had your story for a while. I kind
of explained it at the beginning. But there it is. Brother,
there's your story, and it's a good one. Here is
an email from Ohio. I think this is really interesting,
and y'all, may hear a rooster crow behind me? We've
got like six roosters, now, I don't We bought a
bunch of chickens and we didn't know the sex of them,
and five or six of them wound up being roosters.
They're real pretty and they're not fighting too much yet,
so if they there, he goes. They're young and learning
how to crow, and they sound ridiculous, but they're putting
on their big bloy pants and trying to attract some
of these hens. But anyway, this is a story from
Ohio that I really thought was good. And here's what
the band writes. In the late nineteen nineties, I was
deer hunting down in Athens County, Ohio. It was a
four hour drive from my house on a Friday night,
and I planned to arrive at the area around midnight.
I got the gear out of my truck and started
to walk to my spot. I had to walk up
four big stair steps cut in the side of this
big mountain, and by the time I reached the top
where it leveled out, I was out of breath. I
leaned against a big tree to catch my breath, and
then I decided I wasn't going all the way to
the spot that I wanted to hunt. I was tired,
and this spot looked as good as any to sleep.
I spread out my sleeping bag and I sat down.
And this is how I hunted in those days. I
would get there before anyone else and sleep a short
distance from where I wanted to set up, and it
worked out great. I wanted something to eat after the
hike up, and I pulled a couple of snacks out
of my backpack. And then I heard a commotion above
me and to my right, and to my horror, something
huge was barreling down the hill straight at me. Of course,
my first thought was that it was a bear, but
this thing was running on two legs. A bear couldn't
move that fast in an upright posture. I reached for
my pistol, and I remembered I had left it in
the truck, and in a panic, I pushed a button
on my flashlight and I heard the bulb click and
go out. There was enough light from the moon to
see the shape of this enormous creature, though, and there
I sat in the dark with a crossbow. I would
have one shot, and it wouldn't be a kill shot.
There was no way to outrun this thing, and it
was closing on me fast. I was out of time.
The growls from hell got closer and closer, and I
raised my crossbow and I was ready to shoot when
this thing took a slight turn and ran past me
down the hill. As it ran, leaves, branches, sticks that
lay on the ground in dirt lofted into the air.
Other than the size and speed of this creature, this
is what I remember, trash flying up and passed me
in his wake. It felt like ten minutes before all
that stuff settled. I guess I was in shock. I
didn't know it then, but I was shaking uncontrollably and
I couldn't inhale enough oxygen. I was about to pass out,
but I didn't. Trees were snapping when it hit the
road way down below me, and it stopped growling. And
my guess was that it walked down the road and
it was gone. I remember hoping that was the case.
I never slept that night. I never laid down on
my sleeping bag. I just sat there against that tree,
afraid to move until the sun came up. When the
beautiful rays of sunshine came into the woods, I cautiously
eased down that mountain to my vehicle and I drove out,
and I watched for that thing until I finally hit pavement.
My wife was surprised to see me when I walked
in and I told her the story. She didn't say much,
and I don't know what she thought about me. I
think if my flashlight had worked and I saw this thing,
I really would have passed out. Or maybe that would
have directed this thing's attention toward me. I guess I'll
never know, but I am alive to tell this story.
I didn't die of fright or a bigfoot attack, and
I'm thankful for that. Ten years later, I was talking
to a friend at work. He described a few hunts
they had been on in that same area, so we
had something in common to talk about I went ahead
and told him the story that I just told you.
He was quiet for a while, uncomfortably quiet, and I
wondered if he thought I was crazy. And then he
told me his story about that area. I don't know
exactly what happened to them, but he mentioned that growl
from hell. And then he told me they had never
been back to that area to hunt. They wouldn't go
back there for anything, he said. Well, he and I
parted ways and we've never talked about it again. I'm
seventy two years old now and I don't hunt much,
but when I get to go, it is not in
that area. Oh man, what a great story that was. Whoo.
I just can't imagine how scary that would be in
the dark, Sitting in the dark in the woods, on
the side of a big hill or mountain. Here comes
this giant thing barreling down the mountain. You just have
to assume it's coming at you. And he was ready.
I mean, all he had was a crossbow. You get
one shot with one of those and that's it. And
that wasn't gonna kill whatever. Even if it was a bear,
it wouldn't have killed a bear. It takes a while
for him to bleed out. But this thing takes a
turn right at the last minute and a minute and
runs by him, and that dirt and sticks and trash
flying up behind it is I can absolutely see that
in my mind. But this was a great story. I
appreciate the writer. Thank you, sir. Here's an email from
John this is really this is an interesting UFO story,
and he claims it's true. We built our house in
two thousand and three. A couple of years later, I
was sitting out on our patio smoking and enjoying my
view of the northern sky. The patio was in set
with a roof over it, and I was sitting even
with the roofline facing east. It was that time of
the year when a front rolling through will lay out
a sheet of clouds so low that the city lights
reflect off of them. And behind me, the seven eleven
in Exion Station was reflecting a lot of light that night.
I was sitting there when something caught my eye right
above me, and I looked up and I saw an
object that looked like the belly of a large transport plane.
This thing was low, not more than two hundred feet up,
and it came right over the center of my house.
I had a front row seat. That first, I wasn't
thinking UFO. I immediately started trying to rationalize what I
was seeing. My first thought was that's drug smugglers. I
couldn't see any wings. I could only see the bottom
third of it, no matter how hard I strained my eyes.
But I thought they were gliding to an airport because
there was absolutely no sound and there were no lights.
I am halfway between Dallas Fort Worth and Alliance, Texas,
twelve miles either way, and I realized they'd never be
able to glide that far. And then I thought they'd
better get higher. Are they going to hit those tall
pines up the road. And it seemed to be paralleling
the two lane highway one hundred feet west of my house,
and it was heading directly north. I thought maybe I
could see a tail section, but I couldn't. What I
could see was a white stripe that ran the length
of it with cymbals on each side. This thing had
to be sixty feet long. It was gray or grayish brown,
and as it disappeared into the darkness, I thought about
reporting it, and then I figured no one would believe me.
Somebody else had to have seen this thing in front
of our house, and across the street is a five
acre city lot with no trees. There's also a six
lane parkway with an intersection at the seven eleven. Even
at ten o'clock at night, it's still pretty busy. And
if it came directly from the south over the house,
it had to cross this roadway. Well that's my story.
Bigfoot are out in the remote woods. This thing comes
over your house while you're sleeping. It's a scary thought.
Friend and I made plans to go hog hunting in
the Honey Island Swamp a few years back. We invited
two other friends, Mike and James, who we know love
to hunt. The hunt happened and we had a great weekend,
but Mike and James never showed up. Only the two
of us went. The next week, I called them to
find out why they had never gotten back with us
about going on the hunt. I couldn't reach them, but
the next week they both came by the house. I
was persistent in asking them why they had never called
us back. They didn't really want to talk about it,
but after a while they relented and here is what
they told me. They had actually been down in the swamp.
The weekend before that, we went. Mike launched his eighteen
foot aluminum boat on Friday afternoon and they left the
ramp on the way. They decided to go farther in
the swamp than they usually went, finding a good spot
to pull the boat up on the bank and some
dry ground. They unloaded the boat and they set up
their tents and started cooking some steaks. Everything was perfect
so far. After finishing off the steaks, they played cards
until after dark. Then they went to bed. Throughout the night,
whenever one of them got up to peel get a drink,
they would throw wood on the fire to keep it going.
James was afraid of those woods at night, and he
wanted to keep it lit. At some point way after midnight,
James woke up and saw that the fire was down
to coals, so he got up to throw another piece
of wood on the fire. Walking back to his tent,
he heard a loud, odd scream way off in the swamps.
It echoed across the water. He had never heard anything
like it. Crawling back in his tent, he began to
settle down to get some sleep, but the scream blasted
out again, and it was much closer. It sounded like
it was moving towards them, and when he heard something
huge walking in the water, he got nervous. At this
point in there retelling of the story, James and Mike
both were shaking. It was weird listening to them while
watching both men's hands twitch and shake like it was
all happening to them again. I didn't say anything. I
just listened. James started shaking Mike to wake him up.
Mike was a sound sleeper, and he slept through several
minutes of shaking and kicking, but he woke up real
quick when that scream blasted out again right out by
the boat. Mike sat straight up in his sleeping bag,
asking James what the hell made that noise. It was
as if it had woken him up, but it had
not registered what had made the sound. Mike looked at
me and he told me he knew animal sounds in
the woods. Whatever this thing was, it didn't belong there.
Mike had a pistol under his pillow. He pulled it
out and they both sat there in the tent listening
to this thing walked down the bayou towards them. This
thing was getting closer with each step. They had each
brought a rifle and a shotgun, but they had left
those in the boat. Now this thing was beside the boat,
and they heard something banging on the aluminum hull, like
it was being dragged or shoved. It dropped the heavy
boat and came into their camp. Ice chests and camp
stoves were tossed about. It sounded like it was pissed,
and then it started walking towards the tent. Mike threw
his pillow to James and told him to bury his
face in it. James was crying uncontrollably, and when the
beast walked between the fire and the tent, Mike could
see it silhouette through the tent fabric. It was on
two legs. It was tall and slender, but built like
a linebacker, thick shoulders and no neck. They were terrified,
but sat silently in the tent and they waited. I
looked over at James while Mike was telling his version.
His head was dropped and tears rolled off his nose
to the ground. That's when I was sure that they
were not pulling my leg. The thing took a couple
of steps towards the tent and it bent down, almost
touch the fabric in its screen. Neither man would have
made it if they had had heart trouble. The beast
stood there for a minute, and then it walked around
the camp, rattling more items to the ground, and then
it walked off into the swamp. They both sat awaken
the tent for several hours, never opening the fly to
see out until well after the sun was up. Their
camp was a mess. Every piece of gear had been
thrown about, and all their food was scattered across the ground,
but none of it was eaten. When they got to
the boat, they saw it fully on dry ground, ten
feet away from the bank, with the motor down, making
the rear of the boat elevated. This boat and motor
weighed twenty five hundred pounds easy, and it had been
dragged onto the bank with ease. There was no way
they were going to pull it back in the water
to get home. About two hours later a boat raced by,
and they were lucky to flag him down, but one
boat wasn't enough. It wound up taking two boats pulling
from the water and four men pushing to get the
boat moved. These two men grew up hunting and fishing
in those swamps. To my knowledge, they've never been back,
and they don't plan to go back. I've known them
all my life. They've never told any kind of story
like this. They're not prone to pranks or making things
up to get attention. Ever, when two men you have
known all your life tell you a story like this,
and you see the look on their faces while they're
telling it, you tend to believe them. Oh man, man,
what a story this Honey Island swamp thing is. I'm
guessing it's a bigfoot. I mean, I haven't really read
too much on it. I think we've done three or
four stories on it throughout the life of this channel,
but apparently it's a Swampscott's swamp squatch, or a family
of them, or a tribe or troop or whatever you
call them. The reports are constant on this thing, and
whatever it is, it must be still in there now.
I don't know when this story took place, there's no
dates on it. But man, can you you know the
swamps are kind of creepy at night anyway. I love
being down there at night by the way, seeing the
gators and the snakes. I don't know, there's something about
those Lowland areas that I love. They don't really bother
me at night, but I guess if you thought about it,
it could be really creepy. But it's such a beautiful place.
It's hard to imagine anything scary being in there. But
apparently there are in the Honey Island area and maybe
all over Lowland America. I don't know. But can you
imagine being back there on a quiet night, sleeping and
you hear this scream and this things? You can hear
it walking through the swamp walking at you. I don't
blame them for not going back in there at all,
not one bit. Well, thanks w for sending this. This
is a great story. I love these secondhand stories, now,
sure do you appreciate you? Brother? When I left the Army,
I had a tough time adjusting to civilian life, so
I went to the Oregon Mountains to connect back with
nature and find myself again. A month after I arrived
in Oregon, it was the winter season. I may do
with what I had and wrote it out in a
tent that I insulated with pine needles. One night, in
the middle of a massive ice and snowstorm, I thought
I could hear some sort of howling. I wrote it
off as being the wind, and soon after I got
lost in a book. Hours later, as I was silently reading,
I noticed the storm had subsided and I could hear
movement in the distance. This was a common thing, so
I didn't pay it much mine until it got closed. Sir.
Now I was on high alert. It wouldn't make much
for a hungry bear to rip through my tent. I
could hear noises outside of my tarp supplies being rummaged through,
along with the distinctive bipedal steps in the snow. I
believed a person was trying to rob me, But who
in the world would be up here? So I reasoned
that it was a bear. It couldn't wrap my head
around why it would be out of hibernation. I quietly
got dressed and looked for my rifle. I had left
it in my truck. That's when I got the idea
to push the alarm button on my keyfob to scare
whatever was outside. Mind you that when you're under eighteen
inches of snow, things are easily hidden, and I thought
this would be a good surprise to use. Before I
could get to pushing the button, I was putting on
my boots and loading my nine millimeter pistol. When I
heard a scream or a yell that sounded like it
was coming from a woman. I instantly assumed that it
was a large cat, but none like I had heard before.
I waited, frozen in place, for any other sounds. Minutes later,
I heard multiple crunches in the snow and couldn't make
out the distinct sounds, but it was getting closer in
The sounds that had been coming from outside my tent
were no longer audible. I sat in silence for what
seemed like hours, waiting to hear another sound. As I
was about to give in and go out and have
a look, I heard the scream again, but this time
it was maybe ten feet away, and I could feel
it resonate in my chest, almost like two different pitch
sounds at the same time, one high pitched tone and
one low pitch tone being belted out together. I was scared.
I was on kill or be killed status. At that point.
I could feel my heart pounding in my ears and
my eyes. I did all I could to control my
breathing so that I wouldn't be heard by whatever was
making this sound. I thought I was scared then, but
I wasn't even close to how terrified I would soon become.
Behind my tent, I heard a huge limb snap that
sounded as though a four inch pine had been broken
in half all at once. In my mind, I blamed
it on the ice and snow that weighed down the
tree limbs and caused them to break, or so I fought.
The female sounding scream roared out again right next to
my tent, and from behind me came a low growl
that I swear felt like it broke bones in my ribcades.
It sounded as though ten different thousand pound grizzlies all
roared at the same time. Next, I heard a high
pitch roar again, and I immediately figured it had to
be a pair. The male was behind me and the
female was to my front, but I had no clue
as to what they were or what they could be.
I consider myself very sane, not easily rattled, and a
man that doesn't panic in battle or on a large
game hunt. But I was letting my mind get the
best of me. I decided to use the truck alarm
that was about twenty yards from my location. I pushed
the button and nothing happened. I guess I was too
far away or the snow was too thick for the
signal to reach. I kept pushing the buttons and moving
up and down, trying to get the horn to hank. Finally,
when I reached up toward the roof of the tent,
I heard the horn hank. At that time, I heard
something tear through the trees behind me that sounded like
a t Rex from Jurassic Park, and then a loud
crash from the direction of my truck. I panicked and
rushed out with my pistol drawn, only to find nothing,
nothing but a white haze from the moonlight in every
direction that I looked. I made my way over to
the truck to grab my rifle and saw that a
boulder about eighteen inches in diameter was sticking about halfway
through my windshield. I was freaked out. It took all
my strength to remove the rock and let it fall
to the ground, let alone pick it up and throw
it from a distance, which is what I theorized had happened.
I grabbed my rifle off the back glass, got extra
shells out of the glove box, and went back to
my shelter. I didn't sleep a wink that night or
even blink my eyes that I know of. The next morning,
I went out at daybreak to look around, and I
found massive tracks in the snow. I found large tracks
around the back of my shelter and around the supplies
I had tarked outside. The tracks were about one and
a half times the size of my boots, and I
wear a size twelve. The tracks were about fifteen to
eighteen inches long. Investigating further, I found multiple sets of
tracks ranging from eleven to fourteen inches. I believe it
was a family traveling that got separated in the snowstorm
and regrooped when the storm cleared. If it wasn't a
group of Sasquatch, I don't know what else it could
have been. These events motivated me to build a cabin
in a hurry, though in all reality, I don't believe
a cabin would stop them anyway. If they're that massive
and strong, they can do what they want when they
want to.