Speaker 1: All right, here's a story or an email with a
story from I don't know how to pronounce her name.
It's spelled Dha and a Dana, Dahnnahnah, Dohnnah, Johanna, do Hannah, Hannah, Dana.
I think it's Dana. I'm just playing. It's a pretty name,
she writes. Hello. My name is Dana and I live
in the Pacific Northwest in a small town in Washington.
My husband and I have a story to tell that
happened to us in twenty and fifteen. In November. We
had moved into an off grid RV park alongside the
Lewis and Columbia River in April of that year, and
during the summer we began exploring the wooded area behind
the park. In the fall, I started having the uneasy
feeling that we were being watched, but I never saw
anything out of the ordinary. When winter came, we had
stocked up supplies and were preparing to deal with the
cold weather coming on. We would not go in the
woods hiking around, but around the third week in November,
we noticed unusual activity going on. The area got quiet
and I never heard so much as a frog croaking,
and that's when I knew we were being watched. My
husband and I were woken up to feel something large
slap the side of our trailer from the backside. Our
bedroom faced the woods, and it seemed that the woods
amplified the sound, then the sound of something moving around outside.
Neither of us dared to step foot outside, nor would
we allow our animals out. We could hear branches breaking
in the woods behind us, and a little later we
heard screams that would scare the Bejesus out of us. This,
unfortunately was not the end, because whatever was out there
terrified the dogs in the camp, and I heard more
than one screaming as it was killed. That happened at
least three nights in a row. The screams from this
creature could be heard from near the river and would
start from around nine pm until three or four am
in the morning. We didn't sleep much during this time.
Then the third night, this creature came around again, and
this time it shoved at the trailer. My husband was
alone at the time, so I only had this accounting
for this incident, but it scared him to death. I
came home from staying over at a friend's house and
gave her heads up. She was skeptical, but didn't outright
call me a liar. That night, the whooping and screaming
went on again and again, and I heard dogs barking fiercely.
Pretty soon, a neighbor living on the other side of
the park grabbed his gun and emptied a magazine in
the general direction of where it was. I didn't return
after that. There was one rumor that said bear tracks
were found, but I doubt that was it. Bears don't
scream and whook. But the most bizarre and scary point
of this whole encounter was when my husband and I
and our cats heard heavy pounding steps that literally shook
the ground behind our trailer. We also had a swampy
area behind the trailer that filled whenever the heavy rains came.
My cat went on guard duty during that time and
would lay between me and the window at any rate.
My husband and I have talked to quite a few
folks at the RV part, and the odd thing was
none of them claimed to hear or see anything out
of the ordinary. We still live at that part. We've
heard no more unusual activity, but have gone into the
woods only during the daylight. We look up at the trees,
and it does not appear that something very large passed
through there. High branches are broken, and large trees are
toppled over and right in the middle of the woods.
That was enough, plus our experience, to make believers out
of my husband and I. The end, Oh wow, that's
a good story. You know. The strange thing about that
is you have all this stuff going on around around
your trailer. And I'm assuming that the camper trailers I'm
sure they're fifth wheels or you know, big box trailers
are probably fairly close together. I mean, you can probably
see neighbor after neighbor, and all of this noise, all
this racket, this thing slapping the side of your your
caravan or your trailer, and nobody else in the whole
place has any idea what's going on. They don't they
don't hear it. The thing doesn't slap their trailer. But
you seem to know what this thing was. Plus that
premonition that you had of something watching you, you know,
sometimes that sixth sense tells it all. This was a
great story. Dana, Dha and A. I'm very sorry if
I butchered the way to pronounce your name, but it's
it's spelled pretty it's spell and I think it's Dana.
All right, Well, thanks Dana for the email. It was
really great. Here is an email from Ted and here's
what he writes. I'm not just a fair weather camper
and fisherman. I love the outdoors and exploring it. And
this is a true story. I'm now fifty eight years old.
On this evening, I was in my mid forties. My
wife and I used to camp a lot in a
big one ton truck and a camper rig that we own,
And on this evening, myself and my friend Tom had
just made camp on the edge of a secluded lake
midway up Vancouver Island on the coast of British Columbia.
We left our wives at an event in the town
of Nanimo and we were going to continue on up
the island. Okay, there's nothing funny about that sentence. However,
I think it's funny that Nannimo is spelled Naimo and
the right phonetically wrote it out for me. And I
don't know if he did that for me or if
he probably does that for a lot of people. But
I've had a lot of people say hey, I can
do some editing for you, and I can even phonetically
spell out the words that you probably can't pronounced, y'all.
I'm not embarrassed that I can't pronounce some words. And
there are some words that I know how to pronounce,
but I cannot get my mouth to form the words.
I don't know what it is. Anyway, I'm digressing quite
a bit here. I just thought that was funny that
he phonetically spelled it out. All right. Back to the story.
The plan was to rough it fishing in a rugged
spot that I knew of, just us guys. After leaving
the main highway, we had traveled for the better part
of the afternoon down a gravel logging road to reach
the spot. It was late spring and there was still
a chill in the air. The trip in was long,
but I was excited to experience these secluded lakeside ca
caampsites again. I expected some monster trout to be waiting.
I had been there once before to visit a large
cave that was at the very end of the road
into this area. We made our way around to the
backside of the lake and we had our pick of campsites. Well,
if you could call them that. This mountain side came
straight down to the lake without a natural beach. Whoever
had created the campsites had cut away material for a
road and then left it natural around the lake. The
campsites themselves were nothing special. They were just reasonably flat
spots cut into the wild lakeside. Once we parked, looking
back at the mountains, seemed to reach right down to
the very edge of the lake, and it was an
odd place, and I remember not being so happy with it.
The truck was parked and the jacks were down, and
I got on with building a campfire. We pulled out
our chairs and began to talk and relax. Now Tom
is a notorious loud talker. He had no sense of
how a private conversation worked. So what was once silent
wilderness was now wide awake. The two of us were
probably now audible all across the lake. That said, we
heard no other voices. We were there on our own,
and there was still a bit of daylight, and we
were enjoying recounting the events of previous fishing trips. I
was starting to talk about dinner when Tom's face took
on a startled Look, Hey, you just about got hit
by that rock. He said, Well, I was oblivious. I'd
just been gnattering away, but he'd seen a large rock
fly by and land not far away from me. A
few minutes later, another rock bounced past us, and I
saw this one. It was a softball sized rock, and
I couldn't help but be concerned. I recognized the danger
of being hit. I figured they were rolling down the
mountain side because of snow melting. It was certainly steep
enough that a rock could bounce down from some kind
of natural erosion like that, but the idea that they
were being thrown that never occurred to me. This continued
a few more times until a big one landed in
the lake, and with this we stood up and began
looking up the mountain side. We couldn't see anything moving,
there were no deer animals visible, and there didn't seem
to be an area that looked loose. Once we began
surveying the situation, the rocks stopped, and it was hard
to take in such a large area, and now the
light was getting low. We lost interest in the rocks.
I went on with cooking dinner. We ate and settled
down to a few beers and probably some more lively conversation,
and then something happened that I'll never forget. The silence
of the lakeside ended like an alarm bell ringing, and
what seemed to be a woman began screaming at the
top of her lungs. It was loud and clear, and
coming from somewhere right above us on this dark mountain side.
We were both instantly at full alert. The screaming then continued,
just as loud, echoing out across the lake. This time
it scared me to the bone, sending shivers up and
down my back. The screams sounded human. It did not
occur to me it was anything else but a woman
screaming at the top of her lungs. Well, who was
up there? There are no roads on that mountain. What
was someone doing up there? This was so out of
place on such a quiet night, and with no other
signs of people around the area. The area was not populated.
This was logging company land, with twenty miles of boggy,
mosquito infested forest punctuated with small, shallow lakes, were backing
into coastal mountains, and beyond that was wild rainforest for
many miles leading to the wild north coast of the
island was someone in serious trouble or being attacked. I
had no doubt in that moment that that was the case.
My senses were piqued and I expected to hear someone
crying for help any second. A minute passed, there was nothing,
no sound. Neither Tom or I spoke. It was completely silent.
Darkness came quick and horror enveloped our campsite. The fear
that someone was in serious trouble hung over us, but
there were no more signs of this person. We looked
around as best as we could with our flashlights, and
we called out into the dark, and there were no
further signs of trouble or strangeness. I had a lousy
night of sleep. I felt someone had been in trouble,
but I also knew how odd it was. How could
someone be up on that mountain side with no roads?
She sounded really close. Why would she stop yelling? What
would make a person scream like that and just stop?
There was intense emotion in this scream, and whoever did
it was communicating with us on purpose. At that time,
I didn't see how the rocks and the screams could
be connected, But in hindsight and with what I've learned.
I suspect it may have been sosquatch objecting to our
rude and noisy entrance to the lake. Were we being
told that we were not alone? Was this creature imitating
the sounds that other humans had made when it had
encountered us? The next morning, several other camping rigs rumbled
into the area. The sounds of a few families and
boaters fill the air. We got on with our fishing,
and we forgot about our strange welcome, and we never
spoke of it again. Tom was killed in a car
accident a few years ago. Now, I've camped throughout the
rockies in the national parks, some with bears close, and
cougars are common animals here on the island. I've never
encountered such a mystery in the wild country before or since.
That's the end of his email. Oh man, what a
great story. Vancouver Island is a total wilderness from what
I understand. I've never been out there, but I've seen
TV shows on it and videos about Vancouver Island, and
I think it's full of bears. Brown bears, the real
big mean ones like the grizzly Kodyak kind of bears.
I don't know. In fishing. I think I'd have to
rethink fishing on an island covered up with bears. But
I might be wrong. There may not be any bears
on Vancouver Island. You guys, comment below and let me
know people who know. I'd love to hear about it.
But thanks Ted for this email. It was really good,
what a great story. He hasn't seen anything before or
since like this, and it really makes you wonder, really
makes you wonder what's going on on Vancouver Island. Thank
you again for the email. Here's a story from my
neck of the woods, just down the road in Tupelo, Mississippi.
My son married a Mississippi girl and lived in northeast
Tupelo until recently. It was a suburban area where the
woods came up between the streets and they ran north
to the forested hills and gullies along Elvis Presley Lake.
We agreed it was squatchy looking. We even had some
odd branch constructions way up hind those woods. All kind
of wildlife frequented the area because his property backed up
to the woods. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest,
he used to tease his kids about bigfoot living in
those woods. But he doesn't tease them any longer. I'll
let him tell the rest of them story. We had
a snowstorm March eleven, twenty twenty two, and the wind
had knocked the trash can on the side of the
house over. It was about seven forty five or seven
fifty PM. My wife had just come home and we
were picking up trash using the car headlights to see
when something let out a whoop, howl, scream. That's the
best way I can describe it. It was incredibly loud,
at least as loud as a tornado siren. Sounded like
it was from that patch of woods right down the street.
I wouldn't be surprised if half the neighborhood heard it,
especially the people up in the trailer park on the
other side of the woods. It made us all jump. Oh,
I can guarantee you the people in the trailer park
heard it. You better believe that. In fact, the unbelievably
loud scream we heard started with a whoop and then
built into a howl, and finally a powerful but higher
pitched scream. And it was all in one breath. There
was no pause. It was like it was singing a
scale from low to high. I said, dang, that was close.
My wife was like, what was that. I've lived around
here most of my life and I've never heard anything
like that before I have, I said. I guess my
face gave it away, because she asked, do you think
it was bigfoot? I said, Yep, that was bigfoot. Two
weeks later, he was out back working on his lawnmower
one night and he heard a whoop from the same direction.
It was answered by another whoop from the other end
of the street by the pond in the woods. There's
more than one, he thought, And the next day he
laid down the law to a seven and five year old.
No whooping and no banging around on things, and don't
even think about going back in those woods. And that's
when he quit teasing the kids or mentioning Bigfoot. They
moved to a different town soon thereafter. Oh that's Tupelo's
and that's in a suburban area. Now that's pretty cool.
You know, there's all kinds of Bigfoot reports around here
around Mississippi. I live right on the edge of the
Holly Springs National Forest. If y'all ever heard coonbo talk,
he talks about his stomping grounds in the holly. Matter
of fact, he even invited me to go with him
one night. I don't really know if I want to
go right around in cars whooping for bigfoots all night,
but I might go. I don't know. I might go,
but I kind of like the stories. I don't like
to put myself in the mix. I don't want one
of them things after me because those things charge Coonbo
and those guys. So but this was a great story.
I really appreciate the man sending it, and it was
close to my where I live. That makes it even
more interesting for me. Here's an email from John. I'm
not sure how to categorize this. When Neoma did the
cleanup on this story, she thinks it's either a time
warp or a matrix glisse. But let's read on and
find out what it is. It's a pretty cool story.
In the spring of nineteen eighty six, I was working
for Shell Oil in Long Island, New York. I took
my vacations twice a year, one in the spring and
one in the fall, so I could drive up to
Saint Lawrence to see my family and friends. In the spring,
I would do some fishing and in the fall, I
would hunt. I owned a sport car back then, so
naturally I pushed the limits with it. I can make
that eight hour drive in six hours. On this trip,
I expected to be back on the family farm by
nine am. My route took me through Plattsburgh and from
there I take the military turn bike to Ellenburgh and
then i'd take Route eleven to Constable. On this trip,
this is where I began to get an odd feeling.
I couldn't place my finger on why I felt the
way that I did, until I realized I hadn't seen
anyone in a while, not a single person. No one
was out driving or walking around. No one was headed
to work, no one was taking their kids to school.
There just wasn't anyone. It was so odd. But it
was at seven o'clock in the morning, and I figured
I was just in the right place at the right
time to miss people starting their day. I was in
Franklin County at the time, with another hour left before
reaching home. By the time I crossed into Saint Lawrence County,
I was beginning to get worried I should have seen
someone by then, and I started looking in the windows
of houses and storefronts as I drove by, hoping to
see someone, see anyone, and I never saw a soul.
I was half an hour from the farm and I
began passing the homes of friends, and I was sure
i'd see people moving around there, but again there was
no one around. I pushed on tour home, knowing i'd
see at least my four family members when I got
to the house. But when I got there, they were gone.
The door was unlocked, so I walked in and I
called out. I got no answer. It was eight thirty am.
Everyone should have been up and going about their day.
There was livestock to ten two. That's it. I thought
they must be out in the barn, but they weren't.
It was just the cows and horses. Now I was
completely freaked out, and I decided to drive into town.
It was a small town with a general store and
a post office and a hardware store. There was a
laundry mat, and there were a couple of bars. Now
I knew the bars would still be closed, but the
other businesses all would have opened by seven. I went
to the grocery first. No one was there. It was open,
but I could have run off with the cash register
and no one would have been there to stay. I
was feeling more and more like I was trapped in
an episode of the Twilight Zone. I drove over to
a friend's house next. No one was home there either,
and finally I decided to go back to the farm
and wait. I was doing my best to be reasonable.
That was probably an emergency somewhere, I told myself, and
everyone went to help. I was reasoning with myself, and
I didn't know where the emergency was, so I just
have to go back to the farm and wait. Someone
would show up sooner or later. I was tired from
all the driving through the night, so I stretched out
on the couch and I fell asleep. And when I
woke up, it was noon and my father was coming
through the front door. I asked him where everyone went.
He looked at me like I was nuts and asked
what I was talking about. Dad. When I got home,
everyone was gone, I said, and again he looked, but
he said that a lot of people went over to
Messina for some big event from two whole counties. I question,
and it was clear that he didn't understand, so I
explained everything that had happened. He shrugged his shoulders and
he said, you got to be mistaken, son. I went
to the store, but I've only been gone twenty minutes.
I thought you just got here. As far as he
was concerned, everyone was where they were supposed to be.
I've only told this story to a few close friends.
I know most people would think I'm crazy. I pushed
it to the back of my mind and I have
kind of forgotten about it over the years. However, listening
to your last show about a guy who lost time
while driving brought it all back. Was it all the
result of a random event aligning perfectly or did something
really strange happen? I guess I'll never know. And he
mentions that he's got more stories and I would love
to read them. This is an old story, but I
would love to read your stories, John, send them on brother.
Thanks for the story. M