Speaker 1: In the late summer of twenty fourteen, my husband and
I were enjoying a relaxing afternoon in our apartment watching TV.
It was rare that our days off coincided, so we
were content just being on the same sofa together. I
got up to retrieve something from the kitchen, but when
I walked back into the living room, I witnessed something
that I will never forget, and I couldn't make up
even if I wanted to. Six or seven feet away
from the sofa and four feet off the ground, a
glowing orb appeared out of thin air right in front
of me. I blinked several times, thinking it was dust
on my contact lens or something in my head, but
it remained. It was smaller than a cantalope, but bigger
than a grapefruit, maybe six orven inches in diameter, and
it had the most unusual but beautiful, soft bluish purple
luminescence to it. It was semi transparent and appeared to
be hollow in the center. It reminded me of a
giant soap bubble, but the nearest bathroom was around the
corner and down the hall, much too far for a
bubble that size. To travel without popping. I remember how
puzzled I was trying to figure out how it was
being illuminated. Was it lit from the inside? No? From
one of my lamps? No? Again, it was late in
the afternoon and the only light source was our open window.
This sounds strange, but it seemed like the surface or
the skin of this orb was radiating its own light.
All of a sudden, I felt very calm, and for
some reason I knew that it was benign. It hung
in the air, barely moving as I stood in place
and watched it. I wanted to get my husband's attention,
who was glued to the TV, and I wanted to
say something, but I was fixated and under the spell
of whatever this was. I was in awe and I
didn't care to speak, or look away or even move,
even though I had the urge to reach out and
touch it. I was worried it would disappear at the
slightest disturbance. Mentally, I was begging my husband to look
over in my direction to concur with what I was seeing,
if not also have the chance to see something truly awesome,
but to no avail. Within ten seconds, the orb vanished
into thin air just as quickly and randomly as it
had appeared. It didn't pop or implode. It simply disappeared,
like someone turning off a light switch. My feet were
glued to the floor, and I turned at the hip
toward my oblivious husband. Please tell me you saw that,
I said excitedly. He finally looked up and gave me
a look that read huh that orb thing. You didn't
see it, I said, I stammered, and almost irritated with
him for not noticing. He looked at me like I
was crazy, until he read the expression on my face. Baby,
What did you see? He asked, half suspicious and half concerned.
I told him everything. I just relate to you, and
he went through the same rational checklist I had. Was
it a soap bubble? Was it just the light? No? No, no?
Were the answers to all the sane and reasonable possibilities?
He offered. My husband knows that I am an eccentric person,
but an honest one too, and I firmly believe in karma.
So he believed me, and he still does. However, neither
of us can accurately or definitively identify what I saw.
This experience heightened my fascination and jump started my study
of this anomaly, and I have come to find that
people all over the world have seen these orbs for centuries.
It counts vary, as do the descriptions. They can be
any size, any color, and some are even mobile and recurring.
Another interesting point is that most of these sightings take
place in energetically charge locations where other supernatural sightings have occurred.
There are hundreds of photos of these online, but much
like any paranormal or supernatural phenomenon, it's hard to obtain
scientific and physical proof, so we have to rely on
first hand accounts like this. I don't mind if you
use my name or not, because I have nothing to
lose or gain by telling my story. It was just
a really amazing but true event that happened to this witness.
I still have no idea what these orbs are, or
where they come from, or what they mean. Either way,
it was a beautiful materialization of energy, and I feel
privileged to have seen it. Recalling this story makes me
smile and reminds me that we don't know what we
don't know about this world, but it is truly a
wondrous place. Nonetheless, and it deserves the same respect and
care that we all do. I hope something random and
awesome happens to you today. She's talking to me and
the people listening. Thank you for your time and your
wonderfully eye opening channel. Okay, she's going to talk about
all that. What I thought was the reason I pulled
this story up and read it was because Brittany said,
I hope something random and awesome happens for you today. Now,
people who are sad and ugly and mean and grouchy
and curmudgeon don't say things like that. So I can
tell this woman as a very happy person, and she
looks at things I cannot kind of identif with what
she's saying. I've seen things in my life and I
just look at them in wonder. I'm just I look
at things in all that are strange like this, and
I think to myself, how lucky I was to get
to have seen that. I've talked about a few of
those things in some of my podcasts, and none of
them are spectacular. But even the slightest unusual beautiful light
or you can even be a sunset or a group
of geese lighting in a field, or being buzzed by
twenty wood ducks right at the end of the day
when they're coming into roost, or watching a big bass
bust of water. I could go on and on and on.
The last six days, as I ride through the woods
with my dogs, I have seen deer up close five
out of six days. I didn't see them today, but
the previous five days it's like I almost know they're there,
and I know where to look, and there I set
up close. Some of them are pretty far away and
they're in the woods and you can barely see them,
and you don't see them until they move or twist
their tail or whatever they have to move for you
to see them, or you will not see them. I
don't know. There's something going on right now, and I'll
be riding down a lane or through one of these
old logging roads and something will tell me to look
to the left. And maybe it's God. Maybe he knows
I like looking at wildlife, and he's just saying, look
to your life. There's a couple of idea over there.
Take a peek. So I'm I'm I'm kind of the
same way this woman is. I look at everything I
don't know with young eyes. I'm sixty years old. I'm
getting older, but I try and I think I look
at everything with young eyes. So maybe that's a good
motto for today or something to tell yourself throughout the week,
is just say, I want to look at things with
young eyes like a kid. And when you see something,
just look at it. If it's if it's a dog,
if it's a child, if it's your wife, it's whatever.
Look at those things like a child and have those
childlike experiences. Brittany, thank you very much for the story,
and thanks for the good vibes on this whole thing.
I really appreciate you. In September of nineteen seventy eight,
a deer hunting buddy of mine got permission for us
to hunt a local resident soybean filled. It was bow
season in West Tennessee. This hunting spot was narrow wide,
but usually shallow creek that had been channeled out. At
this time, however, it was flooded and had some timber
in the bottom that had been cut. Brush and logs
and stumps were all in the flooded area. A person
couldn't get through there without breaking a leg or running
into the big cotton mouse that were there. Now, I'll
stop here and tell you guys, it's hot. At the
beginning of bow season in the South. The cotton mouse, oh, coaljaw,
he's still out, So I know what this guy is
talking about. I found a spot to hunt in a
narrow strip of woods that extended between two fields. I
could see one field in front of me, and by
glancing over my shoulder occasionally I could kind of watch
the other field using a bow. Of course, we could
only take a close shot. My buddy, his name is Larry,
found a spot at the end of the field that
I was watching. He could climb like a squirrel, and
he managed to get pretty far up in a tree.
This was real early in the morning. We hadn't been
out there long when I heard what I would describe
as a deep bellow sounded like a bull that ended
in a high pitched screen. At first, I guess because
I was half asleep, it really didn't register to me
what I was hearing. But there wasn't really anything about
Bigfoot on TV in those days, and I didn't have
a clue what made that sound. And then the bellow
or scream happened again. It seemed to follow the same
pattern as a siren. It was deep to high. This
time I understood what I was hearing wasn't anything that
I had ever heard before, and wasn't any known animal
in this part of the country. The hair on the
back of my neck stood up. The sounds were coming
from the creek area right behind Larry. The low bellowing
it started with I could feel in my chest and
it was so deep it's hard to convey in words
how loud it was. Once again, the sound was echoing
in the bottom, this time a little further away. I
couldn't have moved that fast. This was another creature that
made that sound. Now I knew there were more than one.
I've never been a nervous or jumpy person, but I
was in kind of a day's trying to figure this out.
Larry and I were both good shot, so I wasn't
worried about an animal attack. But I was so confused
that I was ready to get out of there. The
fun of the day was gone, and hunting the rest
of the day was shot. It's like something told me
to leave. It wasn't a vocal command, but I got
the message. I got down out of the tree and
crossed the field to the truck that was sitting at
the opposite end of the field from Larry. I sat
there for fifteen minutes, utterly, dazed and confused, staring straight ahead,
still trying to figure this out. And then I saw
Larry come into the truck in the rear view mirror.
He sat down without cranking the truck and stared straight
ahead without saying a word. Now keep this in mind,
the booger was right behind him. But unlike me, he
was a nervous type, so this really shook him to
the core. I finally broke the silence and I asked, Larry,
did you hear that? Well, of course he heard it,
and that broke the ice. Larry started talking. We discussed
anything and everything, but we couldn't come up with an answer.
We finally left and went by his father's house to
tell him about it. Well, of course, he made fun
of us at first and said somebody was pranking us,
but he realized that I wasn't joking. If it had
just been Larry telling it, his father would never have
believed it. He knew Larry's nervous personality. There was no
way we were being pranked because there was only one
field road in and out of there. The flooded creek.
Bottom behind Larry was another barrier. We could have seen
anyone driving in from at least a half a mile away.
Two weeks later, we just happened to go to drive
in movie theater. Of all the shows to be playing
was a legend of Boggy Creek. When we heard the
creature sounds in the movie, we looked at each other.
It was identical to what we heard. By the way,
the Ohio howel sounds very similar. As a side note
on this, I found out later that when the creek
was being channeled out, the work crew was having their
equipment messed with. Full drums of diesel and gas were
thrown around, and other stuff was moved or destroyed. This
happened a mile or two from where Larry and I hunted. Well.
They put a small guard shack near their stuff, and
they paid someone to stay there, But it wasn't long
before something shook the whole guard shack so ferociously that
the guard quit. Also, at a church a few miles away,
they found bigfoot tracks all around the church, and then
another man I know followed the tracks a long way
into the woods, about five miles from where they ended again.
All this happened in the year nineteen seventy eight. Of course,
this wasn't a sighting. Neither one of us saw anything.
We only heard the vocalizations. A timber crew that was
cutting on that creek seemed to be real interested in
my story. I had to go over it again and again.
It was enough to make me think that they had
seen or heard something. There have been a few other
things in this area, but my opinion of what we
heard was bigfoot. And it doesn't live here, but it
migrates through. I haven't been able to forget this after
all these years. And now I'll watch and listen to
everything on TV and online concerning Bigfoot. And then he
goes on to write. He says, feel free to use
this edit do whatever you need to do. Since I'm
not a writer, Dan, you're a good writer. I didn't
have to do much at all to this. He said,
use my name Dan if you wish. You're doing a
great job with these stories. I'm a big fan. Well,
thank you very much, thank you very much. You know,
the one thing that stands out to me in this
story is and I hear this a lot. People will
hear things or see things in the woods and people
will tell them they're being pranked or whatever, you know,
like somebody's messing with them. Look, I'm going to tell
you nobody is going to do that, especially during hunting season.
People who live around here, like for instance me, I
know not to walk around in the woods off of
my property in somebody else's woods. You know, people just
don't do that. And as far as pranking goes, that
takes a lot of time and effort, and it's really
hard to move in and out of an area undetected.
I mean, you can do it, you know, I could
probably do it if I was thinking about, you know,
being clandestine. I want to get in and out of
a place and no one see me, especially hunters. The
problem is you don't know where the hunters are. Unless
you know exactly where there are, how would you prank them.
I don't know. Like I've heard people walk around in
bigfoot or want to walk around in bigfoot suits and
scare people. You're an idiot. You're going to get shot,
especially during hunting season. So the pranking thing, I agree
with Dan. It's just hard to do. You know, this
is almost impossible to do. Okay, let's move on. To
another story. Thanks Dan for this email. It was really good.
Good to hear from somebody from West Tennessee. I missed
living up there, see you, ma'am. In two thousand and nine,
we were driving from our home in Houston, Texas, up
to a football training camp for our nine year old son.
The camp is located in Austin, normally a two to
three hour drive west. The traffic on Interstate ten was
light and we were making good time, so we decided
to exit at the next small to look for a
place to have lunch. My son spotted a Waterburger restaurant,
so we pulled into the parking lot. We couldn't help
but notice all of the old nineteen forties and nineteen
fifties vintage cars and trucks. My husband said there must
be a car show nearby, or maybe a weekend cruise.
We walked inside and approached the counter. Right away, I
noticed the girl who took our order was wearing clothing
and sporting hair and makeup right out of the forties
of the fifties. She was also very polite, maybe even
a little too polite. Her manners and vernacular seemed strange
and out of place. Once we placed our order, we
found a booth and sat down. My husband pointed out
that all the employees seemed odd, like something wasn't right,
but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. We
all turned our attention to the counter and kitchen area
to study them more closely. The men weren't wearing polo
style shirts like we were used to. Their shirts were
more of a polyester type and colors that were old schools,
so to speak. Both of the women were wearing dresses,
definitely not the usual top and pants uniform they wear
in the big city. As my husband and I discussed
the attire of the staff, my son interrupted us to
point out that we were the only customers in the
dining room. That was odd considering the two dozen or
more vehicles in the parking lot, and that they were
the only business on that block. Our name was called
over the speaker, and my husband walked over to get
our food. Where is everyone? He asked the woman behind
the counter as he pointed to all the cars and
trucks out front. She looked at him and then out
the window, and then back at him as if she
didn't understand what he meant. Nothing more was said. He
brought the food back to the table. We asked for
blessings on our meal, and we ate. Once we'd finished,
I checked my watch and I said we'd best be
on our way, and we thanked them for lunch and
went out to our car. My husband looked around at
all the vehicles and pointed out that they were all
empty and there was no one around. We left the
restaurant headed back down the two lane road towards I ten.
We approached a four away stop sign and came to
a stop. No other vehicles were in sight, so I
began to pull forward through the intersection. Suddenly I spotted
a flash of turquoise to my right. Out of nowhere,
an old vintage pickup truck was barreling towards us. It
all happened so fast. He was going to hit us,
and my husband tucked his head in his hands and
then between his knees. At the same time, my son shouted,
he's not going to stop. I knew we were not
going to make it a loss the road and there
wasn't enough room for the truck to get by us,
so I gritted my teeth and braced for impact, closed
my eyes, waiting for the collision. A moment later, we
opened our eyes and looked around. We had, in fact,
and made it across the intersection without colliding with the truck.
But how my husband looked down the road and saw
that the truck was already nearly a half a mile
away had it gone right through us? What just happened?
He asked, in astonishment. We just sat there, looking around,
unable to find any answers or justify the situation. My
son finally said, we better get going or we might
be late. That's enough for one day, I said, looking
up to heaven. My husband agreed and suggested our angels
must have been looking out for us. We made it
to my son's camp with a few minutes to spare.
Once we got him enrolled, my husband and I hung
out in the gym for a while while contemplating all
the strangeness of the day. So if you figured out
what happened back there, he asked, No, even that burger
joint was weird, I answered. He offered a pensive yeah.
The next morning, we said goodbye to our son and
wished him well before heading back to Houston. On our
way home, we decided to stop at that waterburger to
see if we'd lost our minds or something. We drove
up and down that stretch of roads several times, but
the water Burger wasn't there. There were a few farmhouses
for about a mile, but not a business in sight,
let alone a burger place. The intersection was there, and
we double checked to make sure we went the same
direction this time, and we had. It was like something
out of the Twilight Zone. On our return trip to Austin,
we didn't even bother to take that exit again. My
son asked about it when we passed it on our
way back home, but we couldn't bring ourselves to tell
them the restaurant wasn't there. We just said that we
still hadn't figured out what happened at that intersection. My
best friend and I were coming back to Corpus Christy
after being out on her dad's ranch close to Premont, Texas.
I'm going back many years. Her and I are sixty
years old now and we were about nineteen at the
time of this incident. We were there to tend to
some things on her dad's ranch and it took us
longer than we expected. Instead of going straight home, we
took a detour to her Aunt VI's house. Aunt V
insisted that we stay and have supper with them, which
we did. She asked what route we would take home. Well,
I knew of a shortcut that would save us time,
and I told her that was the plan. Aunt V
shook her head and warned us not to go down
that shortcut at night. The road was narrow and sometimes
it was in bad shape. She said, stay on the
main highway. She told us it'll be safer. We promised
her that we would, but after filling the tank at
the gas station, we chose to take the shortcut. Anyway,
it would turn out to be a big mistake. We
knew about a few of the legends concerning the area
where the shortcut passed through, but we didn't believe them.
We were in a Cadillac and it was fast and smooth,
and it had a great sound system. On we went
toward the shortcut. We drove with music way up loud.
We sang along. We were having a great time. It
was a dark and spooky sword tonight. But the last
worry on our minds was that shortcut. It's isolated and
there are no houses or gas stations or even cows
in the area. It's creepy even in the middle of
the day. This was during the fall, sometime close to
Thanksgiving Bray. The leaves were mostly fallen and we could
see a long way even in the dark. Because of
the moonlight and the stars, the woods were clear to us. However,
when we approached that back road, it suddenly became oppressively
dark and cold. I didn't want to go any further,
and I told Addie to turn around. It felt creepy
to me, I said, But we couldn't turn around because
the car was too long. The road was narrow, and
there were ditches on either side of it, and there
was nowhere to get off the road. It started to
get foggy, and Addie switched the headlights to see better.
The atmosphere changed rapidly and we lost the radio. The
fog was so thick we could barely make out the
front of the car, and it was stick as soup,
seeming to absorb the light from the headlights. The car
slowed down on its own. It seemed to crawl no
matter how much Addie depressed the accelerator. Well, we started
to freak out a bit, and Addie was screaming. I
pushed myself over the console and pressed my foot onto
ADDIE's to give the car some gas. But still the
car just creeped along, almost as if something were blocking
our way, like we were pushing something. Now, we were
both terrified that the car would stall. The fear was
so thick you could have cut it with a knife.
I could sense something otherworldly and outright evil around us,
something we couldn't see. We began to pray out loud
for God to help us get out of there. I
told Addie over and over not to look out the car.
I didn't know what was out there, but I felt
like if we looked at it that it would gain
full control of us. Time began to twist in a way.
One minute I felt like we were in slow motion,
and the next we were speeding through time at light speed.
We soon became disoriented, but we struggled against this force,
and we kept praying. The car finally started moving, and
before we knew it, we were flying down that foggy
road at one hundred miles an hour. I had enough
wits about me left to scream at Addie to slow down,
but in her fears, she had pressed the pedal to
the floor, not thinking of anything other than getting away
from the area. By some miracle, we didn't hit a
tree or even run off in the ditch, which by
all rights we should have. The fog began to thin
and I saw that we were square in the middle
of the road. She didn't slow much, but she was
finally under one hundred. The further we drove, the better
the visibility became, and soon we rolled into town. And
as soon as we crossed into civilization, the radio popped
on again and it was blaring the song we had
been so happy listening to, and it made us jump
and I reached over to turn the radio off. We
were now going at the speed limit, and I could
see smoke coming from under the hood and wafting over
the windshield. The fuel gage showed less than one eighth
of a tank. We had just filled it up a
few minutes ago. The shortcut is fourteen miles long. It
was supposed to save us a net thirty five miles,
but two hours had ticked off the clock. Two hours
to travel fourteen miles. Figure that one out. We told
her mom about what we did and what happened to us,
and she said she started to pray because we were
so late getting home. A look of horror came over
her face when we told her about the road that
we had taken, and she made the sign of the
cross as we unloaded. The whole story. Her mother is
gone now, but she was the only one who believed us.
Her dad thought we were drag racing boys because the
engine was rough and the oil was low. Mother and
father just looked at each other when I told them
the story, and they never said a word, but I
could tell they knew something. My parents sternly changed the
subject to something else, and that was the end of it.
Years have gone by, and Addie and I talk about
this incident occasionally, and we count ourselves blessed that we
escaped with our lives. There are many different stories about
this back road, from ghosts to alien abductions. The ghost
stories go back centuries to the time of the conquistadors.
Something evil lives there and it wants that area all
to itself. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. I love
that story. So, if they're sixty now, they were nineteen.
That was probably back in the eighties, early eighties, late seventies.
Sometime around then, those Cadillacs had those giant engines in them,
and they were huge cars, and I can see them
not being able to turn that car around. You'd had
to back all the way out the way you came
in to get back to where you started. So really
there's no choice but to go forward. So maybe that's
a lesson sometimes shortcuts down old, torn up roads, or
maybe not a good idea. I love the story and
I couldn't wait to share it with you guys. I
hope you enjoyed it, and thank you to the writer.
It was. It was really good. Thank you very much,