Speaker 1: My cousin is a nurse in Rushton, Louisiana, although at
Speaker 1: the time she lived just outside the city and the
Speaker 1: little town of Children. She lived in a trailer on
Speaker 1: her mother's property, several hundred yards away from the main house.
Speaker 1: They have an acreage property set back in the woods,
Speaker 1: not too far from the train tracks that run through
Speaker 1: the area. One night, my cousin had just finished her
Speaker 1: graveyard shift at the hospital in Rushton. She was tired
Speaker 1: after the long shift and was returning home to child
Speaker 1: around three am. There been several accidents on the road
Speaker 1: near her home, where it comes across the train tracks,
Speaker 1: and the bushes and the woods near the tracks, and
Speaker 1: the odd bend in the road can make it treacherous
Speaker 1: if drivers don't pay close attention. There are no railroad
Speaker 1: crossing signals on the road, and if you have your
Speaker 1: music to loud, you might not hear the train. More
Speaker 1: than one car has smacked into the train, which is
Speaker 1: always a losing proposition. She approached the tracks, and although
Speaker 1: she was exhausted, she was careful to come to a
Speaker 1: stop and crack her window a bit to listen for
Speaker 1: the train. There were no lights coming or train sounds
Speaker 1: coming down the tracks, and with her window crack, she
Speaker 1: took the opportunity to light a cigarette while she stopped.
Speaker 1: As she put the cigarette into her mouth and fished
Speaker 1: around in her purse for a lighter, a huge, hairy
Speaker 1: hand with a massive hairy forearm smacked palm first onto
Speaker 1: the driver's side area of the windshield, mere inches from
Speaker 1: her face. She let out a startled scream of terror.
Speaker 1: The darkness outside prevented her from seeing anything approach her car,
Speaker 1: and the darkness outside and the lights from the dash
Speaker 1: inside also prevented her from getting a good look at
Speaker 1: her attacker. In any case, she didn't stick around to
Speaker 1: find out who or what it was. She mashed her
Speaker 1: foot on the gas and blasted down the road. She
Speaker 1: got home in no time and ran for the safety
Speaker 1: of her trailer. She concedes that she didn't see what
Speaker 1: smacked her window, only that it was a giant and
Speaker 1: the arm was covered in thick, dark hair. It could
Speaker 1: have been a man out near the train tracks in
Speaker 1: the woods at three am in the dark, but she's
Speaker 1: convinced that it was a bugger. We have spent many
Speaker 1: evenings on the porch playing cards at the main house,
Speaker 1: and her terrible screams come from the woods beyond the pond.
Speaker 1: All my cousins tell me it's a black panther they
Speaker 1: sometimes see in the area, and it certainly sounds like
Speaker 1: the scream of a big cap the kind that sounds
Speaker 1: like the blood curdling scream of a woman that ends
Speaker 1: in a roar. But now I'm not so sure it
Speaker 1: is a panther. If your show has taught me anything,
Speaker 1: it's that boogers and bigfoot can make those same sounds.
Speaker 1: Either way. Next time we visit, I won't be out
Speaker 1: walking around outside in the dark by myself. Thank you
Speaker 1: for your time. Keep up the great work. I love
Speaker 1: the Steve Lily stories. Keep them coming, dude, I love
Speaker 1: writing them. You and I talked about Steve Lily over
Speaker 1: the phone. Some people say he's my alter ego. No
Speaker 1: he's not. Steve Lily is just a character. He's like
Speaker 1: I put ten or twenty guys I've known in my
Speaker 1: life together and I just stuffed them all in Steve
Speaker 1: Lily and that's how he got to be how he is.
Speaker 1: But working on Steve Lily Number ten now, I hope
Speaker 1: to have it out in the next week or two,
Speaker 1: so I keep getting emails and comments, and you know
Speaker 1: that's very flattering. I don't say those things like I'm bragging.
Speaker 1: I say those things in all that people actually like
Speaker 1: those stories. To me, they're so silly, but and I
Speaker 1: love writing them because it's like I feel like a
Speaker 1: little kid when I'm writing them. When I tell you
Speaker 1: that there's I get a lot of emails and comments
Speaker 1: on them. I'm saying that in what's the word, I'm
Speaker 1: looking for appreciation, gratitude, and thankfulness that you all enjoy
Speaker 1: those stories, and that the man who wrote this story
Speaker 1: that I just read, he's a screenwriter. When you have
Speaker 1: somebody read or hear your story and they like it,
Speaker 1: that's better than one hundred dollars bill. I guarantee you,
Speaker 1: to someone who wrote it, it's better than one hundred
Speaker 1: dollars bill. So thank you all for enjoying Steve Lily,
Speaker 1: I'm going to have another one out pretty soon. Anyway,
Speaker 1: let's move on to another story. Okay, this is a
Speaker 1: really interesting story. And at the beginning of his email,
Speaker 1: he gives me I almost narrated this. I'm glad I didn't,
Speaker 1: because he said, let me tell you a bit about
Speaker 1: myself in confidence he wants to remain anonymous for several reasons,
Speaker 1: but I will tell you this. He's sixty five years old.
Speaker 1: It's a man. He's got an extensive education background, bachelor's
Speaker 1: degrees and leadership and ministries, and a master's degree in
Speaker 1: the science of counseling. And he says, I hate to
Speaker 1: talk about myself. I was taught not to brag, but
Speaker 1: I did graduate at the top of my class, and
Speaker 1: people say that I helped them make good decisions. I'm
Speaker 1: only telling you this to give these stories a little credibility. So,
Speaker 1: in other words, he's not from the trailer park like me.
Speaker 1: I'm just kidding, man, I'm just kidding. So here's what
Speaker 1: he writes. My sister and I are the only ones
Speaker 1: living from our immediate family now. My mom and dad
Speaker 1: and three older brothers have passed away, so I really
Speaker 1: don't have anybody to ask about the things that I'm
Speaker 1: going to tell you. But there's just a lot of
Speaker 1: strange things that happened as I was growing up that
Speaker 1: never had a resolution. And I suppose it was because
Speaker 1: they happened to me at such a young age that
Speaker 1: I didn't question them or fully dwell on them. I'm
Speaker 1: writing to you because of your non judgmental approach to
Speaker 1: the subject of the unknown. I enjoy your style of
Speaker 1: telling about these experiences, and I check your channel to
Speaker 1: make sure I haven't missed any of them. That always
Speaker 1: makes me so happy when people say that. You know,
Speaker 1: people think this is a successful YouTube channel. It's a
Speaker 1: small channel in the scope of YouTube, and I still
Speaker 1: get giddy when I hear people say, Oh, I like
Speaker 1: to hear you read a story, and you know, if
Speaker 1: I don't know, I'm just going on here. Let me
Speaker 1: keep going. So he writes. All three of these events
Speaker 1: that I will tell you are true. They're not fiction.
Speaker 1: You may use them on your channel, which I enjoy
Speaker 1: very much, or just read for your own pleasure if
Speaker 1: you want. All I ask is that you mask both
Speaker 1: names in specific places. We grew up in Knoxville, Tennessee.
Speaker 1: We lived in a law large ranch style home with
Speaker 1: a big, full basement and a main level and an upstairs.
Speaker 1: It faced the highway and on the other three sides
Speaker 1: it was surrounded by woods. And he sent some photos,
Speaker 1: but I don't show photos, so we're not going down
Speaker 1: that road. We rented it from the cement plant. My
Speaker 1: dad worked for. I recently tried to find out how
Speaker 1: many acres the plant owned, but I couldn't. I did
Speaker 1: find out the manufacturing and packing plant itself is thirty
Speaker 1: two acres, so it stands to reason that there's at
Speaker 1: least seventy five acres or so of fairly dense woods
Speaker 1: that were talking about. I always loved to play in
Speaker 1: those woods. It was a southern boy's dream. We moved
Speaker 1: to the house when I was six years old, and
Speaker 1: I lived there until I was eighteen. There was one
Speaker 1: house next to iris when we moved in, but it
Speaker 1: was vacant and torn down shortly after. There were no
Speaker 1: other homes around at all after that, and I would
Speaker 1: estimate the closest would be a mile or two in
Speaker 1: either direction, with only the woods and the plant behind it.
Speaker 1: I would always go through those woods to the left
Speaker 1: of our home, which was a quarter a mile of
Speaker 1: dense hardwood, and then i'd crossed a small fence that
Speaker 1: opened out into a large field. Across that field, I
Speaker 1: could go play in a small creek, and that was
Speaker 1: always a fun track. Sometimes I would go to the
Speaker 1: right of the house into those woods. We would always
Speaker 1: throw our leftover food or spoiled food over the fence
Speaker 1: on that side. I would go about a quarter mile
Speaker 1: in that direction until it opened up into a clay
Speaker 1: clearing that was totally surrounded by large pine and evergreens.
Speaker 1: It had a big deposit of slate rocks, and I
Speaker 1: can remember grabbing a rock and riding my name on
Speaker 1: the other rocks around there. It was like a chalkboard.
Speaker 1: That clearing was one place I always felt like someone
Speaker 1: was watching me, though I never went any further than
Speaker 1: that to the right, even though the river was only
Speaker 1: a half mile further. If I were to walk straight
Speaker 1: back towards the center of the woods for miles and miles,
Speaker 1: I would eventually get to the plant my father worked at.
Speaker 1: But we never went toward the center of those woods.
Speaker 1: For some reason, there seemed to be unspoken boundaries. Even
Speaker 1: when I went out with my older brother's hunting, I
Speaker 1: was always told not to go that way because the
Speaker 1: plant would blast rocks back there with dynamite. There were
Speaker 1: plenty of no trespassing signs, no hunting signs, all riddled
Speaker 1: with bullet holes, and oddly enough, some danger quicksand signs
Speaker 1: really quicksand in East Tennessee, or was that a sign
Speaker 1: to just scare people. We always had dogs that we
Speaker 1: kept outside. Now it seems to me like they always
Speaker 1: disappeared or died on a regular basis, and I never
Speaker 1: understood why. And in my family, a good Southern family,
Speaker 1: if you do not talk about it's like it never happened.
Speaker 1: Oh man, isn't that a weird thing about us Southern people?
Speaker 1: We just don't. I do. I talk. I like to
Speaker 1: talk about things. Sometimes I need to talk things out,
Speaker 1: but mostly I'm quiet. I'm not a bliber mouth, but
Speaker 1: some things I need to. Okay. For some reason, this
Speaker 1: story is making me yack. I'm gonna quit doing that.
Speaker 1: We usually kept one or two hunting dogs like beagles,
Speaker 1: and at least two big German shepherds. My dad always
Speaker 1: put the dogs up in a strange way. He stationed
Speaker 1: them directly behind our house, one to the right side
Speaker 1: of the woods and one towards the center of the woods,
Speaker 1: and one to the left. We had a large pin
Speaker 1: that spanned the entire half of our yard that was
Speaker 1: made from fencing at least six feet tall. On the
Speaker 1: front of the large pin was a house made from
Speaker 1: ten and it was big enough to shelter a pony
Speaker 1: we had for a while. Why didn't they just put
Speaker 1: the dog and that instead of letting it sent empty?
Speaker 1: I wonder if they were put up like this to
Speaker 1: guard our yard. Dad always kept a loaded shotgun handy
Speaker 1: as well. Mom would always warn me that the boogerman
Speaker 1: was in the woods and that I shouldn't let it
Speaker 1: get me. She would have probably freaked out if she
Speaker 1: knew I went in there to play as much as
Speaker 1: I did. Later on, my dad would explain that screams
Speaker 1: we heard a few times in those woods originated from
Speaker 1: bowampus cat, a large mountain lion type creature we used
Speaker 1: to talk about. Did he tell me this because I
Speaker 1: would be more accepting of a large cat in those
Speaker 1: woods rather than well, something else. I think the subject
Speaker 1: of these stories is more than land we lived on
Speaker 1: rather than anything else. Or maybe because I believe in
Speaker 1: the supernatural, I was more sensitive to these events. Or
Speaker 1: maybe they happened to me just because with a randomness
Speaker 1: that can be ironic. Well, let me get to the
Speaker 1: first event. I did not usually take my little sister
Speaker 1: with me in those woods to play when I went,
Speaker 1: but one day we decided to play in that fenced
Speaker 1: in lot I mentioned earlier. We played in the tin
Speaker 1: house next to the only entrance and exit until close
Speaker 1: to dusk, and we decided to venture out to the
Speaker 1: other end, which was grown up now into tall grass.
Speaker 1: As we got closer to the end of the pen,
Speaker 1: both of us stopped for some reason as we looked down.
Speaker 1: Near our feet on the ground lay a jawbone from
Speaker 1: I don't know what, maybe some animal, including gums and teeth.
Speaker 1: It was fresh, because I distinctly remembered that the gums
Speaker 1: were not dried out but had to shine to them
Speaker 1: like they were still moist, and the teeth were all intact,
Speaker 1: like the entire jaw was carefully extracted. It could have
Speaker 1: been a canine. I really don't know. That frightened both
Speaker 1: of us, so I didn't pick it up to examine it.
Speaker 1: I left and on the side of the pen where
Speaker 1: those center woods were, and the six foot fence had
Speaker 1: been pushed down and was two feet from the ground
Speaker 1: in one section. It had not fallen down. It was
Speaker 1: purposely mashed down for something to gain access into the
Speaker 1: pen undetected. And then we heard a long guttural growl
Speaker 1: coming from something crouched down in the tall grass and
Speaker 1: weeds about fifteen feet in front of us. We both
Speaker 1: knew we had to get out of there, and we
Speaker 1: backed out and we ran to the house. We told
Speaker 1: our parents and they thought we were just playing. Well.
Speaker 1: I went back the next day and the jaw was gone. Finally,
Speaker 1: my parents told us both to stay out of that house.
Speaker 1: There were fleas from the dogs in there, and we
Speaker 1: would get them, even though we never kept dogs in
Speaker 1: that ten house. Well, what do I think happened? I
Speaker 1: think there were sasquats living deep in those woods, but
Speaker 1: at that time knew nothing about them. This happened to
Speaker 1: us in nineteen sixty six. The sisquatch probably thought I
Speaker 1: was harmless and they never bothered me when I played
Speaker 1: back there. I think one pushed down that fence in
Speaker 1: the back of the pen where it couldn't be seen
Speaker 1: and had easy access from the center woods. And I
Speaker 1: believe that it had killed something, maybe a dog or
Speaker 1: a coyote, and brought it in there to eat, and
Speaker 1: us goofy kids walked up on it and it felt threatened,
Speaker 1: so it growled. After that, I heard more stories of
Speaker 1: the wild man in our area, and we became careful,
Speaker 1: especially at night. In fact, when my sister was older
Speaker 1: and she was left alone in the house, she was
Speaker 1: so afraid that she would sit under the kitchen table
Speaker 1: with chairs pulled in around her until somebody got home.
Speaker 1: Even when I grew to a teenager and would come
Speaker 1: in at night from work or a date, I would
Speaker 1: never hang around outside. It was so dark from the
Speaker 1: woods in our yard, and the dogs would regularly bark
Speaker 1: into the woods and we would hear movement in there,
Speaker 1: but we never saw anything. And our usual routine for
Speaker 1: being tucked into the house would include making sure the
Speaker 1: garage light was turned on, the door to the screen
Speaker 1: porch was locked, the door to the kitchen right off
Speaker 1: the screen porch was locked and dead bolted, and the
Speaker 1: living room door going out to the front porch was
Speaker 1: locked and the inside chain lightched, and the outside entrance
Speaker 1: to the basement would be locked, and the entrance into
Speaker 1: the main floor from the basement was bolted shut. On
Speaker 1: November fourth, nineteen sixty five, my grandfather died. I was
Speaker 1: ten years old then and my sister was seven. He
Speaker 1: was never a warm and fuzzy type grandfather. He would
Speaker 1: always sit out in the yard with his metal lawn
Speaker 1: chair and smoke cigarettes. He was a slim man with
Speaker 1: a ring of white hair around his head. He always
Speaker 1: had on his Liberty overalls, a sport coat, a stetson hat,
Speaker 1: and broke in boots. I felt bad for my father
Speaker 1: that Paul, that's what we called him, had died, but
Speaker 1: I didn't feel the loss as much since he was
Speaker 1: not an overly affectionate kind of a man. Two weeks later,
Speaker 1: Mom and Dad had to go somewhere and left my
Speaker 1: sister and I alone for a while. We were goofing
Speaker 1: around on the porch and something got my attention about
Speaker 1: halfway up the driveway. It was Paul walking up the
Speaker 1: driveway and his overalls and his sport coat and hat
Speaker 1: and his brokens. Both of us scurried into the house
Speaker 1: and locked the kitchen door. We didn't have time to
Speaker 1: lock the screen in the porch door, so my grandfather
Speaker 1: walked in and began to knock on the kitchen door.
Speaker 1: We both hid in the living room until we were
Speaker 1: sure he was gone. Both of us saw him and
Speaker 1: recognized him. There was no mistake about that, but the
Speaker 1: way he was dressed and the way he walked were
Speaker 1: just the same. Now, I cannot explain that to this day,
Speaker 1: and my mom just said it could not have been
Speaker 1: him and we were mistaken. The next story I have
Speaker 1: takes place a couple of years later. My older brother
Speaker 1: and I were home alone one night and for some reason,
Speaker 1: we went outside. As we stood there, right outside the
Speaker 1: detached garage, we both looked into the sky. It was
Speaker 1: dark and clear, with the stars shining all around. At
Speaker 1: this time, it was nineteen sixty eight. The area was
Speaker 1: still undeveloped as far as business goes, so there weren't
Speaker 1: any lights from buildings or signs. As we looked up,
Speaker 1: it seemed as one of the stars was becoming brighter
Speaker 1: than the rest. It was becoming brighter because it was
Speaker 1: getting closer. In a matter of seconds, we understood that
Speaker 1: it wasn't a star. Yes, they're hovering above us, was
Speaker 1: a flying saucer. Its appearance was similar to the classic
Speaker 1: nineteen fifties sci fi movies. It was round with lights
Speaker 1: that rotated all around it, and it looked bigger than
Speaker 1: our two story house and it just hung there, making
Speaker 1: little noise as we stared back at it and shot. Finally,
Speaker 1: my brother told me to get in the corner of
Speaker 1: the garage and stay there I did, and he ran
Speaker 1: into the house and got the Trusty twelve gage shotgun.
Speaker 1: I heard him come out and I stepped out too,
Speaker 1: and just as he shouldered the J. C. Higgins twelve gage,
Speaker 1: the object disappeared. We both stood there and shocked for
Speaker 1: a while. Never spoke of it again, but I always
Speaker 1: felt protected and glad my brother was around. Isn't that weird?
Speaker 1: I have absolutely no idea what this was. All I
Speaker 1: truly know is that it was an unidentified flying object
Speaker 1: that scared us both to death. And Now for my
Speaker 1: fourth story, this occurred when I I was seventeen. I
Speaker 1: had the entire upstairs to myself. My sister was always
Speaker 1: afraid to have her room up there for some reason.
Speaker 1: Maybe it was because you could hear footsteps up there
Speaker 1: when we were all downstairs. My parents said the house
Speaker 1: was just settling, and I always left a light on
Speaker 1: in the hall bathroom and the door cracked about halfway.
Speaker 1: If I knew it would be dark before I went
Speaker 1: upstairs to my room, I would leave a light on
Speaker 1: all day so the area would be illuminated for me
Speaker 1: when I walked up those stairs. As I went to bed.
Speaker 1: One night, I took my glasses off and I placed
Speaker 1: them on the bedside table. I have poor vision and
Speaker 1: I could see nothing without them. And I woke up
Speaker 1: sometime in the wee hours of the morning and I
Speaker 1: turned my head to the side. That's when I saw it,
Speaker 1: or I saw him. I was standing in my hallway,
Speaker 1: right outside of my room what appeared to be a
Speaker 1: Civil War soldier. He had a uniform, one that looked
Speaker 1: like a Confederate officer's attire with fancy braids and buttons.
Speaker 1: Before I could even react or think, he was straddling
Speaker 1: me on the bed, making the mattress in springs underneath
Speaker 1: me conformed to a U shape. I sunk into the
Speaker 1: middle of the bed. I had been scared before, but
Speaker 1: this was stark terror. And as quickly as he appeared,
Speaker 1: he disappeared, and the mattress, the springs, and me returned
Speaker 1: to their original position. I immediately sat up straight in the bed,
Speaker 1: and I took a deep breath, and I screamed. Yes,
Speaker 1: I screamed, but no sound came out. I took a
Speaker 1: deep breath to scream again, but no sound, just my breath.
Speaker 1: I have since read that if you're terrified, your body
Speaker 1: may go into shock. It temporarily freeze up and it
Speaker 1: will not function. But the third attempt came with a
Speaker 1: blood curdling scream, and I ran downstairs and I told
Speaker 1: my mom, who met me at the bottom of the stairs,
Speaker 1: that I had a nightmare. She suggested that I sleep
Speaker 1: on the couch in the downstairs living room that night,
Speaker 1: and that's what I did for a week. Was it
Speaker 1: a nightmare? Really? Was it a familiar spirit, maybe taking
Speaker 1: the form of a soldier who fought in the area.
Speaker 1: How could I see in such detail without the aid
Speaker 1: of my glasses? I will never know. Shortly after I
Speaker 1: moved out got married, my sister did as well. Mom
Speaker 1: and Dad moved to a house they built on a lake.
Speaker 1: The old house was torn down by the plant. It
Speaker 1: was not in bad shade. And why they decided to
Speaker 1: tear it down instead of renting it or selling it,
Speaker 1: I'll never know. Again. All these events are all true,
Speaker 1: and I'm sure no one would believe me. I've never
Speaker 1: shared all three events. Actually there were four events with
Speaker 1: anyone else, but they really did happen. Feel free to
Speaker 1: use these stories if you wish. You may call me
Speaker 1: to verify if you want. If I'm busy, leave a
Speaker 1: voicemail and I'll call you back. Thank you for all
Speaker 1: you do in the wonderful stories you tell, and then
Speaker 1: he signs off. I'm telling I'm gonna be straight up
Speaker 1: with y'all. I read this story cold because I thought
Speaker 1: it was a Bigfoot story, but then it got into
Speaker 1: UFOs and it got into ghosts. They saw their grandpa
Speaker 1: walk up to the house. You know, I love these
Speaker 1: stories just as much as Bigfoot stories. They're all great.
Speaker 1: We all love to hear them, and this man was
Speaker 1: so nice to sit down and write all this stuff
Speaker 1: down for us to enjoy. So this is the story
Speaker 1: that's at the end of the video. I know everybody
Speaker 1: expects me to do Bigfoot. I really like doing these
Speaker 1: UFO ghost stories. We do those on the what if
Speaker 1: it's true? This one kind of snuck in. I'm gonna
Speaker 1: leave it in because it's just damn good. That's all
Speaker 1: there is to it. Confuct In, Pug need be distrust