I remember the night my grandfather shared this spine
chilling tale with me a few months ago.
He spoke in hushed tones, his eyes glinting with a mix of fear
and nostalgia as he recounted the eerie encounter he had with
a bizarre creature during his time with the Platoon in the
unforgiving jungles of Vietnam. This creature, he claimed, bore
a resemblance to Bigfoot, but it was different in a way that
still haunts his memories to this day.
The story transported me back to the year 1957 to Kamran Air Base
in Vietnam, where my grandfather was stationed.
He had just arrived at the barracks, weary from the day's
trials, and wasted no time in seeking refuge in his bunk.
He knew that the next day would be demanding and he needed all
the rest he could get. Little did he know that the
horrors he was about to face would render sleep an elusive
luxury. The dawn of the following day
found my grandfather standing shoulder to shoulder with his
platoon, their boots crunching on the forest floor as they
embarked on their patrol through the dense jungle.
The ominous silence was broken when they stumbled upon an
injured ARVN soldier lying helpless beside a tree.
My grandfather inquired about the source of his injuries, but
the response was cryptic and unsettling.
It's still near. Get away from here, the ARVN
soldier whispered. My grandfather dismissed it as
the ramblings of someone traumatized and continued their
mission. They carefully placed the
wounded soldier on a stretcher and sent him back to the safety
of the base. As they push deeper into the
jungle, the hours passed in relative calm until a deafening,
unearthly scream shattered the tranquility.
Panic surged through their ranks as they rushed toward the source
of the sound, weapons drawn, Hearts pounding, they slashed
through the underbrush and entered A clearing where a
horrifying sight awaited them. There, under the dappled shadows
of the jungle canopy, stood a towering 7 foot tall, hairy
creature. It was gnawing on the remnants
of some poor souls bones, its eyes reflecting malevolence.
Without hesitation, one of the soldiers opened fire, an I'll
fated decision that triggered a chain of unimaginable horrors.
The creature reacted with lightning speed, lunging towards
the unfortunate shooter and sending him hurtling into the
air. His screams echoed through the
clearing as he crashed back to the ground.
The creatures powerful jaws clamped around his legs,
crushing bone and sinew. Desperation gripped the platoon
and they unleashed a barrage of gunfire, causing the creature to
Yelp in agony and release its prey.
Injured and enraged, the creature vanished into the
shadows of the jungle, leaving behind a nightmarish tableau. 1
soldier rushed to aid the maimed comrade, only to find his legs
severed and his spine shattered. The medic hurried to the scene,
stabilizing the injured soldier as best he could and placing him
on a stretcher. The platoon began their grim
March back to base, but the relentless pursuit of the
creature was far from over. Approximately a mile into their
return journey, it reappeared, its eyes burning with vengeful
intent. With lightning speed, it burst
from the foliage, snatching another hapless soldier before
dragging him into the forbidding undergrowth.
Fear and desperation gripped the remaining men as they sprinted
along the trail, but my grandfather's fate took a cruel
twist. He stumbled over a jagged rock,
his head colliding with the unforgiving ground, and darkness
enveloped him. When he regained consciousness,
the morning sun had begun to cast long shadows over the
jungle. Blood trickled from a gaping
gash on his forehead, staining his uniform and the earth
beneath him. As he attempted to rise, a
realization gripped him. He was alone.
The haunting sound of heavy footsteps drew nearer.
An instinct kicked in. My grandfather lay motionless,
feigning death as the creature approached.
Minutes that felt like hours passed with the monstrous being
pacing by him, convinced that he was no longer a threat.
Once the creature retreated, my grandfather cautiously rose to
his feet, his heart pounding in his chest.
He stumbled down the trail, hopelessly searching for any
sign of his platoon. Ours stretched into an eternity,
but eventually he stumbled upon a discarded helmet with a hole
through the middle, a grim testament to the horrors that
had unfolded. A few more steps revealed the
grisly remains of his comrades, lifeless and mutilated, while
the medic was conspicuously absent.
Resolute in his determination to survive, my grandfather picked
up a discarded weapon and ventured forth his senses.
Sharpened by the horrors he had witnessed, he trudged for miles
through the unforgiving jungle seemingly lost until he chanced
upon a map that offered a glimmer of hope.
Studying it meticulously, he deciphered the route back to the
base. The following morning he finally
stumbled back into the safety of the base, his clothing tattered,
his face battered and bloody. After they had cleaned him up,
he embarked on a search for the missing medic.
Eventually he found the medic sheltered within a tent, his arm
missing and his body bearing numerous lacerations.
Desperate for answers, my grandfather asked what happened.
The medics voice trembled as he recounted his harrowing journey,
running with the wounded soldier on his back until exhaustion
claimed him, only to be rescued by another patrol.
My grandfather returned home, forever changed by the horrors
he had witnessed. He sought therapy to cope with
the trauma that haunted his every waking moment.
To this day, the identity of that grotesque creature remains
shrouded in mystery, leaving us with only one word to grasp for
understanding Bigfoot. I never believed in things like
ghosts, aliens, or Bigfoot. I mean, come on, In a world
where everyone's got a camera in their pocket, how come no one's
ever snapped a clear pic of Nessie?
I always thought that stuff was for gullible folks, not for
someone like me. But let me tell you, what
happened a few weeks back has me questioning everything.
I work as a night security guard at this big company on the
outskirts of town. The place is pretty isolated,
sandwiched between some rarely used train tracks and a thick
forest that looks like it's straight out of a fairy tale.
The job was simple enough. Keep an eye on things, make sure
no one's up to any mischief. It wasn't exactly exciting, but
it paid the bills. My typical night shift went
something like this. I'd clock in at 10:00 PM, grab a
cup of the world's worst coffee, and settle into my little office
at the front of the building. The first few hours would pass
with me flipping between TV channels or beating some new
high score on my video game. Every hour I do a quick patrol
around the building just to make sure everything was kosher.
It was a piece of cake, really. At first.
The job had its moments. Kids from around the area
thought it was fun to mess with the big scary building.
They do typical teenager stuff. Graffiti, broken windows, the
odd firecracker thrown over the fence.
Nothing I couldn't handle. But after a couple of close
calls I decided to bring my German Shepherd shoe to work.
He was named after Michael Schumacher, my all time favorite
F1 racer. Shoe was a real deterrent for
those kids. After a few growls and barks,
they decided it wasn't worth the trouble.
With shoe by my side, the job became a breeze.
Nights passed without incident, and I got used to the quiet.
Sometimes I'd look out at the stars and wonder about life on
other planets. I was pretty sure there was
something out there, but visiting us that seemed like a
stretch. Then three Thursdays ago,
everything changed. It was a rainy night, the kind
where you just want to stay in bed.
I was doing my usual routine, half watching some late night
show, when I realized it was time for my 4:00 AM patrol.
I sighed, grabbed my raincoat and whistled for shoe.
He usually bounded up ready for action, but that night he just
stared at me like he knew something was off.
We stepped outside and immediately this awful stench
hit me. It was like a mix of wet dog
garbage and something rotten. Shoe seemed on edge too,
sticking close to my side, which wasn't like him at all.
We started our patrol, the rain pelting down and that's when I
saw it. A trail of blood leading into
the grass. Following it we found a deer
carcass. It was a mess, like something
out of a horror movie. Both hind legs were missing and
there was blood everywhere. I stood there trying to make
sense of it. My first thought was a prank,
but this was way beyond a kids idea of a joke.
We buried the remains in a far corner of the property.
When morning came, I told the boss about it and we both
shrugged it off as some freak occurrence.
Little did I know that was just the beginning.
The calm before the storm, you could say.
And boy was I in for a storm. That deer carcass was just the
start of a series of weird happenings that would turn my
nights upside down. The more I think about it, the
more I realized those were warning signs, like in those
horror movies where you shout at the screen telling the
characters to get out of there. If only I had listened to my own
gut feelings. The night after the deer
incident was clear but chilly. I did my patrols more often,
half expecting to find another gruesome scene.
Shu was acting strange, too, more alert than usual, as if he
sent something I couldn't. It was eerie, like those moments
in video games where the music changes and you know,
something's about to jump out at you.
Then three Thursdays ago, things got even weirder.
It was around 2:00 AM and I was in the office playing a game to
keep myself awake. Suddenly, shoe started barking
like crazy. I had never seen him like this
before. He was pacing around, ears
perked up, growling at the door. I tried to calm him down, but he
just wouldn't stop. That's when I heard it, this
heavy thudding sound, like someone was walking on the roof.
I grabbed my flashlight and went outside to check, thinking maybe
it was some kids trying to prank us again.
But when I looked around, there was no way anyone could have
gotten up there. No ladders, no trees, close
enough, nothing. And that smell from the other
night was back, only fainter. It was all too much.
I went back inside feeling a mix of confusion and fear.
Shoe was still on edge, and honestly, so was I.
The next couple of days were quiet, but that feeling of
something being off just wouldn't go away.
I kept thinking about the roof and the smell and that poor
deer. It was like pieces of a puzzle I
couldn't put together. I talked to some of the other
guys at work about it, but they just joked that I was seeing
ghosts. I laughed it off, but inside I
wasn't so sure. Then came Sunday night, a night
that's etched into my brain like a bad dream.
It started off like any other shift.
I was watching some show when I heard a loud crash.
It sounded like glass breaking. Shu was already at the door,
barking and scratching, desperate to get out.
My heart was pounding as I grabbed my flashlight and opened
the door. Shu bolted out and I followed,
trying to keep up with him. We ran to the back of the
building where I thought the sound had come from, but there
was nothing there. No broken windows, no signs of
anyone around, just silence and darkness.
Then, without warning, Shu took off towards a Grove of trees
near the train tracks. I yelled for him to come back,
but he was on a mission. He stopped suddenly about 10
feet from the trees, growling at something I couldn't see.
My flashlight beam caught something moving.
A shadow, maybe. I squinted, trying to make out
what it was. That's when my world turned
upside down. A large, muscular arm reached
out from the trees and grabbed shoe.
I heard a snap, and my heart sank.
I couldn't believe it, my loyal companion gone.
In an instant I was frozen in shock, my mind racing.
What was that thing? What should I do?
I didn't have much time to think.
The creature, whatever it was, turned its attention to me.
Panic set in. I needed to get back to the
building, but the only way was to run past it.
I didn't have a choice. I took a deep breath and
sprinted as fast as I could. But I wasn't fast enough.
The night shoe died is etched in my mind like a bad scar.
It was the kind of thing you'd expect in a horror movie, not in
your actual life. I keep replaying it over and
over, wishing I could change what happened, but I can't.
It's there. A nightmare turned real.
I remember running, my feet pounding against the cold
ground, my heart racing like a drum in my chest.
The building seemed miles away, and every second felt like an
eternity. The creature, whatever it was,
was right behind me. I could feel its presence, a
massive looming shadow that haunted my every step.
I had almost made it to the door when I felt it, a powerful grip
on my shirt yanking me backward. I fell hard, the air knocked out
of me. I struggled to get up, but it
was no use. The creature was upon me, its
weight crushing me against the ground.
I remember the feel of its fur, matted and wet, brushing against
my skin. I managed to turn my head, and
that's when I saw it. It wasn't a man, but it wasn't
an animal either. It was something in between,
something I had never seen before.
It had the body of an ape covered in thick, reddish brown
fur, but its face was eerily human.
Its eyes glowed red in the darkness, filled with an
intelligence that was almost human, but not quite.
I was terrified, sure that this was the end for me.
I thought of my family, my friends, and all the things I'd
never get to do. I fought back, kicking and
punching, but it was like hitting a brick wall.
The creature barely flinched. Its strength was overwhelming,
and I knew I couldn't escape. Then it looked right into my
eyes. In that moment, time seemed to
stop. There was something in its gaze,
a kind of understanding, as if it knew me.
I don't know why, but I stopped struggling.
It was like I had accepted my fate.
The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air.
The creature had picked me up and thrown me like I was
nothing. I crashed into a tree, feeling a
sharp pain in my back. The world spun around me and
then everything went black. When I woke up, I was in the
hospital. The doctors told me I had a
broken back and it was a miracle I was alive.
They asked me what happened, but I couldn't explain it.
How could I tell them that I was attacked by something that
shouldn't exist? I lay there for days, trying to
make sense of it all. I had always been a skeptic,
someone who needed to see to believe.
But now I had seen something that defied all logic, something
that couldn't be explained. I keep thinking about those red
eyes, the mix of human and animal in them.
It haunts me, the idea that there are things out there we
don't understand, things that lurk in the shadows of our
world. I don't know what that creature
was, but it changed everything for me.
I can't go back to the way I was before.
I've seen the impossible, and it's a truth I can't escape.
My life is different now, and all I can do is try to move
forward, carrying the memory of that night with me lying in this
hospital bed. I've had a lot of time to think,
you know, about how in one night, everything I believed or
thought I knew got turned upside down.
It's funny how life throws you a curveball when you least expect
it. One moment you're just a regular
guy with a regular job, and the next you're lying here with a
broken back, haunted by memories of red eyes and a creature that
shouldn't exist. I miss Shu every day.
He wasn't just a dog. He was my buddy, my fearless
partner. Losing him was like losing a
piece of myself. I keep replaying that night in
my head, wishing I could have done something, anything, to
save him, but deep down, I know it was impossible.
That thing, that creature, it was beyond anything I could
handle. As the days pass, I find myself
staring out of the hospital window, watching the world go by
and thinking about how different my life is now.
I used to be a skeptic, a guy who laughed at stories of
Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.
Now I'm the guy with a story that nobody would believe.
It's a strange feeling, knowing something that no one else does,
Something so unbelievable that even saying it out loud sounds
crazy. I've talked to the doctors and
the police tried to explain what happened.
But how do you explain the unexplainable?
They think I was attacked by a bear or some other wild animal.
I guess that makes sense to them.
It's a logical explanation, But they didn't see what I saw.
They didn't look into those glowing red eyes.
Sometimes late at night, I wonder if it'll come back, if
it's out there watching, waiting.
It's a terrifying thought, but it's there in the back of my
mind. I keep telling myself it's just
my imagination. But after what I've seen, I
can't be sure of anything anymore.
This whole experience has changed me.
I used to live my life without really thinking about the
mysteries of the world, the unknown that lurks in the
shadows. But now I can't stop thinking
about it. It's like I've been given a
glimpse of something bigger, something beyond our
understanding, and it's both fascinating and frightening.
I'm not sure what the future holds for me.
The doctors say I'll walk again, but it's going to be a long road
to recovery. I know I can't go back to my old
job, to my old life that's gone now, replaced by something new,
something uncertain. As I lie here, I can't help but
feel a sense of loss, not just for shoe, but for my old self,
The man who didn't believe in monsters.
That man is gone, replaced by someone who knows that the world
is full of mysteries, of things we can't explain.
I don't know if I'll ever find the answers I'm looking for, or
if I'll ever come to terms with what happened that night.
But one thing's for sure, I'll never forget those red eyes, the
feel of that fur. And the night that changed
everything. My life is a different story
now, one that's just beginning. The moment our tires crunched on
the gravel driveway of that rental near Mount Rainier, I
knew this trip was going to be something else.
I've always had a knack for sensing when things are about to
turn sideways. Maybe it's the Montana in me, or
maybe it's just because I've read too many of creepy novels.
Either way, as I looked out at the dense Washington forest that
surrounded us, I felt an itch at the back of my mind.
My friends were a mix of excitement and exhaustion as we
unloaded our bags. Alex, the planner of our group,
had found this place. Guys, this is going to be epic,
he said with a grin that was too wide to be just about the
scenery. Sarah, the skeptic, rolled her
eyes but couldn't hide her curiosity.
And then there was Mark, always ready for anything.
Camera in hand, we were greeted by Michelle, our rental host,
who had the rugged, weathered look of someone who spent her
life outdoors. She was across the street,
tending to a horse in a pasture that seemed to stretch into
Infinity. Welcome, she called out, her
voice carrying a hint of something I couldn't quite
place. Intrigue.
Maybe? We all walked over to greet her,
eager to stretch our legs and get to know the place.
Michelle had a way about her that was both disarming and
slightly unnerving. She offered to show us around
her property, and we eagerly agreed.
The place was more than just a house.
It was a slice of untouched wilderness, complete with more
horses and a smattering of other farm animals.
But it was when we crossed over to her backyard, past her quaint
wooden house, that things started to get interesting.
Michelle gathered us in a circle, her eyes glinting with a
mix of mischief and excitement. So do you guys want to go back
home with a story? She asked, her voice dropping to
a whisper. How could we say no?
We followed her past a barn, walking into a part of her
backyard that was more forest than garden.
The ground was soft under foot, the air thick with the scent of
pine and earth. About 100 feet in.
Michelle stopped us. Look down, she instructed.
At our feet was a footprint, But not just any footprint.
It was massive, easily twice the size of my own, and oddly
shaped, wider and longer than any humans could be.
And there were toe imprints, clear as day.
This, Michelle said, a serious tone replacing her earlier
playfulness was made by a Sasquatch.
A Sasquatch. The word hung in the air like a
challenge. I glanced at my friends, saw
their expressions mirror my own mix of disbelief and curiosity.
Michelle went on to tell us how she found the imprint, and then,
almost as an afterthought, how she had come to own this land
and the property across the street where we were staying.
Her voice took on a somber note. You might think I'm crazy, but
if I knew about their existence, I would have never moved here.
Do you want to see more? There was a collective pause, a
moment where we all considered the sanity of following this
path, but adventure has a way of tipping the scales.
We nodded, and Michelle let us deeper into the woods.
As we walked, the forest seemed to close in around us.
The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves were the only
sounds that accompanied our footsteps.
I felt a shiver run down my spine, the kind you get when you
realize you're part of a story much bigger than yourself.
And as the shadows lengthened around us, I couldn't shake the
feeling that we were not alone. As we ventured further into the
dense Washington woods, I felt an uneasiness creep up my spine.
I've been in plenty of wild places, but there was something
about these woods, shrouded in the twilight, that felt
different. The trees loomed over us like
silent giants, their branches casting long, strange shadows
that danced in the breeze. Michelle LED us with a
confidence that only comes from someone who knows every inch of
their land. She was part guide, part
storyteller, weaving a narrative that was as captivating as it
was unsettling. We were deep in her territory
now, far from the comforts of the rental here, Michelle said,
stopping suddenly. She pointed at the ground to a
cluster of sticks. They were arranged in a way that
was too deliberate to be the work of nature.
I laid these out earlier today. Look how they've been moved.
We circled around the sticks, the air thick with intrigue.
The arrangement was peculiar, like a cryptic message left by
an unknown hand. Michelle's theory was that the
Sasquatch were mischievous creatures, fond of small pranks
like this. It was hard to digest, but out
here, in the embrace of the wilderness, anything seemed
possible. As we walked on, I couldn't
shake off the feeling of being watched.
The forest had a presence, a personality, almost.
It was as if the trees themselves were alive, with
secrets, whispering tales of the unknown.
Michelle's next word sent a chill down my spine.
Right about here is where you might feel something unusual,
she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
And she was right. The air around us felt charged,
electric. The hair on my arm stood on end,
and I wasn't the only one. Alex looked around nervously,
and even Sarah, our group skeptic, seemed uneasy.
They asked me to bring you here, Michelle continued, her voice
taking on a solemn tone. The Sasquatch, I mean, they
wanted to say hello. I tried to process her words.
Were we really being summoned by a legendary creature, or was
this all an elaborate ruse? But before I could ponder
further, Michelle posed a question that cut through the
silence like a knife. Has any of you recently lost a
brother or experienced psychic abilities?
We exchanged glances, each of us shaking our heads.
The question hung in the air. Adding to the thickening plot of
our little adventure, our journey took us to the last
point of our walk. Michelle's eyes widened as she
examined another set of sticks. I can't believe it, she
murmured. Earlier she had laid them out,
and now they were rearranged, just like the first set.
She spoke of how she often left gifts for the Sasquatch, food
mostly, and how they always disappeared.
I was skeptical, to say the least.
I've spent enough time in the wild to know that plenty of
creatures could be responsible for missing food.
But there was something in Michelle's conviction that made
me question my doubts. Just when I thought things
couldn't get any stranger, we heard it, a sound that defied
description. It was distant but clear, a
bizarre chorus of hoots and laughs unlike anything I've ever
heard. Michelle's face lit up.
That's them, she said with certainty.
The Sasquatch. We stood there in the heart of
the forest, listening to the haunting melody of the wild.
It was a moment suspended in time, a crossroads between the
known and the unknown. And as we made our way back to
the cabin, the forest seemed to whisper its secrets, leaving us
with more questions than answers.
Back at the rental, the night had wrapped itself around the
cabin like a dark, enigmatic blanket.
We sat on the porch nursing our drinks, each lost in thought.
The conversation swirled around our bizarre encounter, theories
tossed back and forth like a game of catch.
Alex was all in, buying every word Michelle had said.
Sarah remained skeptical, her brows knitted in doubt.
And Mark, well, he seemed more interested in capturing the
perfect night shot of the woods than joining our debate.
The thing about the wilderness is it has a way of stripping
down your beliefs, leaving you raw and open to possibilities
you'd scoff at in the light of day.
And right then, under the vast starry sky, I felt that
vulnerability. I'm going back out there,
declared Alex suddenly, his voice cutting through the night.
I have to see this for myself, Mark, however, the adventurer
didn't hesitate to join him. I watched them disappear into
the tree line, their flashlights bobbing like will of the wisps
in the darkness. Left alone, I felt a strange
sense of solitude. I wasn't up for chasing shadows
in the woods. Instead, I rolled a joint and
settled into the quiet, letting the serene beauty of the
Washington wilderness wash over me.
The cabin, with its warm lights and rustic charm, felt like a
sanctuary. But the stillness of the night
was deceptive. As I sat there, lost in the
tranquillity, it happened again, that sound distant but
unmistakable, the eerie, almost otherworldly call that Michelle
had attributed to the Sasquatch. It started as an owl's hoot,
morphing into that bizarre monkey like laughter.
I froze every instinct, screaming that this wasn't just
some nocturnal animal. There was an intelligence in
that sound, a deliberate communication that transcended
the barriers of the known world. I wanted to dismiss it, to
rationalize it as the trickery of the night.
But sitting there, alone in the vastness of the wilderness, I
couldn't. Time seemed to stretch on
endlessly, the sound echoing in my mind long after it had faded
away. When Alex and Mark finally
returned, I relayed my experience.
But they hadn't heard anything. Their skepticism was evident,
and I couldn't blame them. If I hadn't heard it with my own
ears, I might have been skeptical, too.
The night wore on, and eventually we retreated to the
warmth of the cabin, but sleep was elusive.
I lay in bed, my mind racing with questions.
What were those sounds? Was Michelle playing an
elaborate prank or was there something more to her stories?
Driven by a restless curiosity, I grabbed my phone and did what
any modern day seeker of truth would do.
I googled Washington State. Creepy laugh animal.
I typed. The 1st result was an article
titled Bigfoot or Animals Hair Raising Sounds Coming from a
swamp on Indian Reservation in Oregon.
My heart skipped a beat. The description matched what I
had heard perfectly. As I lay there, staring into the
darkness, I realized that the wilderness holds more mysteries
than we can fathom. And sometimes the line between
legend and reality is thinner than we dare to believe.
Morning in the Washington wilderness is like waking up in
a different world. The light filters through the
trees in a soft, golden haze, painting everything in a hue of
tranquility. But that morning, as I sat on
the porch with a steaming cup of coffee, the beauty of the
surroundings was overshadowed by the lingering questions from the
previous night. The article I had found about
the Bigfoot sounds in Oregon was still open on my phone.
I reread it, searching for some clue, some rational explanation,
but the words just danced around the possibility of the unknown,
offering no concrete answers. Alex and Mark were the first to
join me, their steps heavy with the lack of any real discovery
from their nocturnal expedition. Sarah followed, her skepticism
now mixed with a tinge of curiosity.
We sat there in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
The conversation from last night resumed, but with a different
tone. Now there was a sense of wonder,
a willingness to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe,
there was more to Michelle's stories than we had initially
believed. It was time to leave the cabin,
to say goodbye to the mystery that had enveloped us for the
past couple of days. We packed our things.
The mood subdued. The encounter with the unknown
had touched each of us in different ways, leaving a mark
that wouldn't easily fade. As we loaded the car, Michelle
appeared. Her demeanor was the same as
when we first met her, a mix of the earthly and the ethereal.
I hope you found what you were looking for, she said, her eyes
twinkling with an unspoken knowledge.
We exchanged farewells, but her words stayed with me.
Had we found what we were looking for?
Or had we stumbled upon a mystery that was never meant to
be solved? The drive back was quiet each
mile taking us further away from the enigmatic woods and back to
our reality. But the wilderness has a way of
staying with you. It's mysteries seeping into your
soul. In the days that followed, I
found myself diving deeper into the lore of the Sasquatch.
Reading accounts, watching documentaries.
The skeptic in me battled with the part that had heard those
unexplainable sounds in the dark.
The rational part of my brain argued for logic, but the primal
part, the part that had sat alone on that porch, knew that
some things defy explanation. I realized then that the
wilderness is more than just trees and wildlife.
It's a living, breathing entity filled with secrets and stories
that go back centuries, and sometimes it chooses to reveal a
glimpse of its mysteries, not to provide answers, but to remind
us that there are things in this world beyond our understanding.
As I sat at my desk, the city noises a stark contrast to the
serene silence of the woods, I knew that the experience would
stay with me. The line between legend and
reality might be blurred, but sometimes the mystery is more
important than the truth. In the end, our Sasquatch
experience in Washington state was a journey into the unknown,
a reminder of the vast and unexplored mysteries that lie
hidden in the heart of the wilderness.
Hi, I'm Lindsay, a 19 year old who lives in a pretty quiet part
of Pennsylvania. You know, the kind of place
where everyone knows each other and nothing much happens.
I live here with my parents and my two sisters, Mary and Farika.
Mary is older than me and has always been the brave one, And
Farika, well, she's the baby of the family.
We've always been close, but living in a rural area means we
have to make our own fun most of the time.
So it was Farika's birthday coming up and we wanted to do
something special for her. She hadn't been hiking before,
and Mary and I had only done it once, but we figured it would be
a fun way to spend the day. We planned to explore the trails
in the state game lands. They were a bit off the beaten
path, not too far from our house, and hardly anyone ever
went there. It sounded perfect for a quiet
day out in nature. The night before the hike, we
sat around our kitchen table double checking our backpacks.
We weren't exactly pros, so we made sure to pack all the
essentials. Pocket knives, flashlights, and
a medical kit, just in case. Mary joked that we were
preparing for an expedition, but I could tell she was a bit
nervous. She always had a knack for
sensing when something wasn't quite right.
The next morning we started our adventure.
The sun was shining and the birds were singing.
It felt like the perfect day for a hike.
We chatted excitedly as we walked from our house to the
base of the hill where the trail started.
I remember telling Farika all about the beautiful views we'd
see and the cool pictures we could take.
As we approach the trail, Mary suddenly turned serious.
She reminded us that we were in a pretty secluded area and that
there could be animals around. It is the woods after all, she
said. I rolled my eyes a bit.
I knew she was just being her overprotective self, but I
couldn't shake off the feeling that maybe she was right to
worry. Finally, we reached the parking
lot, which was as empty as we expected.
The entrance to the trail was marked by two main paths, with
occasional blue dots spray painted on trees to guide
hikers. The trail wasn't well known or
frequently used, which made it seem more like an adventure to
us. We were a couple of newbies, but
we were excited to explore this hidden gem so close to home.
As we began our hike, Mary took the lead with me in the middle
and Farika bringing up the rear. The first steps onto the trail
involved climbing a small but steep hill.
I remember feeling a mix of excitement and a tiny bit of
apprehension as we ascended. We were just three girls out in
the middle of nowhere, relying on each other and a few blue
dots to guide us. The trail ahead was beautiful,
surrounded by tall trees and the sounds of nature.
It was peaceful, just like we wanted.
Little did we know our peaceful hike was about to take a turn
we'd never forget. We were deep into our hike,
surrounded by the lush greenery of the state game lands.
The trail was more beautiful than we remembered.
Sunlight streamed through the leaves, creating patterns on the
ground that danced as we walked. Mary was leading the way,
pointing out different birds and trees.
Farika was totally into it, snapping pictures with her
phone. I was just happy to be out there
with them, feeling the crunch of leaves under my boots and the
cool breeze on my face. As we walked, we started to
spread out a little. Mary was a few steps ahead and
Farika lag behind, caught up in capturing every moment.
I was in the middle, feeling like the bridge between my
adventurous older sister and the wide eyed wonder of my younger
one. Suddenly the peacefulness of our
hike was shattered by a loud rustling noise to our left.
It sounded like something big moving through the underbrush.
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.
I looked at Farika, who had stopped taking pictures and was
now staring in the direction of the noise, her face a mix of
curiosity and fear. Then I looked up at Mary.
She had stopped too, and was standing completely still, her
eyes fixed on something in the woods.
I'll never forget the look on her face.
It was like she'd seen a ghost then, in a voice that was barely
more than a whisper. She said.
Turn around, guys. Farika and I were confused.
Why? What's wrong?
I asked, but Mary just repeated herself more urgently this time.
Turn around and run now. I'd never heard her sound so
scared. Without another word, she
started sprinting back the way we came, and Farika followed
immediately. I hesitated for a moment, torn
between wanting to see what had scared Mary so much and the
instinct to flee. I took a quick glance over my
shoulder, but I couldn't see anything except trees and
shadows. Yet the rustling noise was
getting louder. Closer.
I didn't wait any longer. I turned and ran as fast as I
could, my heart racing and my mind filled with terrifying
possibilities of what could be behind us.
I caught up with Mary and Farika, who were waiting for me
just before the entrance to the parking lot.
Why did we run? What did you see?
I panted, trying to catch my breath.
Mary shook her head, her eyes wide with fear.
I'm not sure, but we need to keep moving.
Let's get out of here. We didn't stop to rest.
We jogged all the way back to our house, constantly looking
over our shoulders, expecting something to jump out at us at
any moment. The peaceful feeling of our hike
was gone, replaced by a sense of dread and the unshakable feeling
that we were being watched. When we finally made it back
home, we collapsed on the front porch, our lungs burning and our
legs aching. Mary was still shaking, and
Farika was close to tears. I was somewhere in between,
feeling scared and confused. What was that all about?
Farika asked, her voice trembling.
Mary took a deep breath. I saw something in the woods,
something big and Gray, and it was moving towards us.
Her words sent a chill down my spine.
What had we stumbled upon in those quiet, secluded woods?
What had been lurking just out of sight, watching us?
Whatever it was, I knew one thing for sure.
Our peaceful hike had turned into a nightmare, and it was a
long time before any of us would feel safe in those woods again.
Back on our porch, hearts still racing, we tried to calm down.
Mary was the first to speak up. OK, I know you guys are freaked
out. I am too.
But we need to talk about what just happened.
Ferrica was huddled on the steps, her eyes wide and scared.
What did you see, Mary? You said something about a Gray
figure. Mary nodded, taking a deep
breath. When I heard that noise, I
turned to look. There was this thing.
It was Gray, huge, and it looked like it was covered in hair or
fur. It was hunched over, maybe 10
feet off the trail. It looked like it was coming
towards us. I felt a shiver run down my
spine. Are you sure it wasn't just a
bear or something? I asked, trying to rationalize
what she had seen. Mary shook her head.
No, it wasn't a bear. This thing was on two legs, and
it moved differently. I've never seen anything like
it. We sat in silence for a moment,
each of us lost in our thoughts. The idea of some unknown
creature lurking in the woods near our home was terrifying.
I remembered stories of Bigfoot and other cryptids, but I had
never believed in them. Now I wasn't so sure.
Remember the stories we used to hear from the neighbors?
Mary continued about that creature they saw near the
woods. I nodded.
Years ago, two kids from the neighborhood had talked about
seeing a mysterious animal near their home, which was close to
the game lands. They described it just like Mary
did, but I had always thought they were just making it up.
Their grandmother saw it, too, Mary added.
She's not the type to believe in fairy tales or monsters, but she
swore she saw it. Faraka looked from Mary to me,
her face pale. Do you think what you saw was
that thing? I don't know, Mary admitted.
But it's too much of A coincidence.
Isn't it the same kind of creature in the same area after
all these years? The thought was unsettling.
If what Mary saw was the same creature than it had been living
near us for years, unseen and unknown, what else didn't we
know about the woods we had grown up near?
We should tell Mom and Dad, I suggested.
Maybe they know something about it.
We spent the rest of the evening talking with our parents about
the incident. They were concerned, of course,
but also skeptical. They suggested it might have
been a misidentified animal, but they agreed to be more cautious
and to keep an eye out. That night I lay in bed, staring
at the ceiling. The image of what Mary had
described filled my thoughts. A part of me wanted to go back
to the trail, to see for myself what was out there.
But another part of me was scared, scared of the unknown
and what it might mean for us. I eventually drifted off to
sleep, but my dreams were filled with shadows and unseen threats
lurking just beyond sight. The mystery of the State Game
Lands had taken on a darker, more ominous tone, and I knew
our lives would never be the same again.
I lay in my bed that night, staring at the ceiling, my mind
replaying the day's events over and over.
It felt surreal, like a scene from a movie or a chapter from a
book, not something that would happen in our quiet, rural life.
I turned to my side, glancing out the window at the dark,
silent woods. What mysteries did they hide?
What secrets lay beneath their serene facade?
The next morning at breakfast, the atmosphere in our house was
different. There was a heaviness, a sense
of unspoken fear and curiosity. We all sat around the table,
eating quietly. The usual morning chatter was
replaced by a tense silence. Finally, I broke the silence.
Do you think we should go back there to see if we can find
anything? I asked.
More out of a need to do something than actual desire.
Mary shook her head immediately. No way.
Whatever that was, I don't want to encounter it again.
Farika just hugged her mug of hot chocolate, looking scared.
I don't even want to think about it, she whispered.
Mom looked at us with concern. I think it's best if you girls
stay away from those trails for a while.
Whatever you saw, it's better not to take any chances.
Dad nodded in agreement. Your safety is the most
important thing. There are other places you can
explore. The conversation shifted then to
plans for the weekend, upcoming school events, anything but the
incident in the woods. But the unspoken question
lingered in the air. What had Mary really seen?
As the day went on, I found myself drawn to the window,
looking out at the woods. The curiosity was eating at me.
I had always loved mysteries and the unknown, but this was
different. This was real, and it was right
in our backyard. I decided to do some research.
I spent hours online reading about local wildlife legends and
stories of strange sightings in the area.
The more I read, the more I realized how little we knew
about the world around us. There were so many stories, so
many possibilities. Could what Mary saw be some
undiscovered animal, a misidentified creature, or
something else entirely? That evening, as we sat in the
living room, I shared what I had found with my family.
We discussed the possibilities, each of us offering our theories
and thoughts. It was strange, but talking
about it made it less scary, more like a puzzle to be solved.
As I lay in bed that night, I made a resolution.
I would continue to explore, to seek out the mysteries of the
world, but I would also be more cautious, more aware of the
potential dangers. The experience in the woods had
changed me, made me realize how vast and unknown the world
really is. I fell asleep with a sense of
determination and a newfound respect for the mysteries of
nature. The incident in the state game
lands would remain an unsolved mystery, a reminder of the thin
line between curiosity and caution, the known and the
unknown. I take a deep breath as I step
outside into the crisp evening air, the two dogs bounding ahead
of me in excitement. It's become a routine now,
taking our beloved pets out to their kennels so they can have
some time to run and play, to feel the freedom of the
outdoors. These are not small dogs by any
means. One is a sturdy black lab Husky
mix and the other a full blooded Staffordshire Terrier or
Pitbull. The kennels are positioned at
the edge of our yard, right near the woods.
These woods are immense, an expansive expanse of towering
trees and dense underbrush that would take an entire day to hike
through. But lately, when the sun dips
below the horizon and the darkness encroaches, the dogs
seem on edge. Their usual excitement is
replaced with unease and they bark and whine towards the
house, pleading to come inside. Initially I brushed it off as
them wanting to return to the warmth of our home, but as the
nights passed, I began to suspect they were genuinely
scared of something lurking in those woods.
It was three nights ago when things took a disturbing turn.
The evening had settled in and darkness was beginning to fall.
Although we had a security light that prevented it from becoming
pitch black, I approached the first kennel, expecting the
usual cacophony of barks and wines from our eager dogs.
But this time, as I reached the front of the kennel, both of
them were eerily silent. My heart started to race, a
shiver running down my spine. They never hesitated to greet me
enthusiastically, but now they stood there as still as statues.
It sent a chill down my spine, an uneasiness in the air that I
couldn't quite put my finger on. It was like an electric tension,
as if I were about to be jolted by something unknown.
The unease only deepen the longer I stood there.
I reached for the first dog, the lab, and that's when it
happened. A heavy snap, like a branch
breaking, echoed from the woods nearby.
I froze. The dogs froze, and by that
point I was so on edge that even a whisper would have made me
jump, scream, and possibly run for my life.
The air grew thick with an eerie tension, and the lab had her
bushy tail tucked tightly underneath her.
Whining softly. It sent shivers down my spine.
The Pitbull, on the other hand, had moved as far away from the
woods as she could, whimpering for me to come and rescue her.
I could only take one dog in at a time, because they got too
excited and sometimes fought, so I had to leave the Pitbull
behind, trembling in fear. I felt guilty as I walked away,
her high pitched whining bark haunting my ears.
It was a sound I had never heard her make before.
The lab couldn't get to the safety of the house fast enough.
I rushed back for the pit bull, my dread growing with each step.
Her kennel was positioned right at the edge of the woods and I
had to turn my back to open her door.
As I approached, the air turned heavy and stale, carrying with
it an unpleasant smell like that of a dead skunk.
Another snap, closer this time, and I was ready to bolt, but I
couldn't abandoned my dog who was now facing the woods
defensively. It was as if I were walking
through water, every step of battle against my fear.
I reached the door and as I got my dog out, she too was scared
and began growling behind me. I was paralyzed in place, my
heart pounding in my chest when I heard it, heavy breathing
right behind me. My senses were on high alert and
I could barely think. The breathing continued for what
felt like an eternity before I heard the unmistakable sound of
footsteps approaching. At that moment, terror engulfed
me and without looking back we both took off running.
A bone chilling scream emanated from the base of the woods,
sending shivers down my spine. I didn't dare glance over my
shoulder, I just ran. My Pitbull pulled me desperately
toward the house. Once inside, I turned off all
the lights and stared out the window at the woods.
I could see something moving just out of my line of sight.
It swayed back and forth five times, then vanished.
It took me hours to fall asleep that night, every little noise
in the darkness sending my heart racing.
The following evening I decided to take the dogs in earlier,
right around dusk. I hoped it would be uneventful,
but as I was getting my pit bull out of her kennel, a deafening
snap echoed through the woods as a tree branch snapped in half.
It sounded distant, but it was enough to make my skin crawl.
I hurriedly got my dog and began walking toward the house.
Just a few steps from the kennel, I heard something
massive charging toward me from within the woods.
Panic surged through me as we ran, and it felt like whatever
it was followed us for a while before retreating.
Since that night, every evening has brought strange sounds from
the woods, branches breaking, things being thrown around,
knocking on trees, and Erie roars.
I'm terrified, and I no longer take my dogs down.
There We go for walks during the day and I ensure we're all
safely inside before dusk falls. I'm at a loss for what to do,
but I'm seriously considering buying a gun, though I'm unsure
if it will offer any real protection from whatever lurks
in those dark, foreboding woods. The mountains called to me a
siren song that resonated deep in my bones.
After months cooped up due to the pandemic, with a newborn
daughter cradled in our arms, my wife and I had scarcely caught a
wink of sleep, let alone dreamed of escape.
So when the opportunity came to join my brothers in law and my
father-in-law for a camping trip in the high Utah mountains, I
leaped at it like a trout to a family.
We drove in convoy, my newly acquired Toyota Land Cruiser
leading the way, it's engine purring with a promise of
adventure. The vehicle was second hand, but
to me it was a chariot to freedom.
I'd thrown in my new hammock, too eager to test it against the
wilderness. The place we were headed to was
a family secret, a spot so remote it took us 2.5 hours from
our home in the valley. I promise not to disclose its
location, and I intend to keep that promise.
As we navigated the winding roads, the urban landscape gave
way to an expanse of wilderness, untouched and raw.
Arriving at the campsite, a sense of peace washed over me.
We were surrounded by mature pine trees and aspens, standing
tall and stoic. The air was cool, a welcome
respite from the summer heat hovering around 65°.
There was still run off from the melting snow, and the mud it
created didn't bother me. It was a mark of authenticity on
my Land Cruiser. I decided to set up my hammock
high between the top of my Toyota and an adjacent sturdy
pine tree. Climbing onto the vehicle to
reach my lofty bed, I felt a childlike thrill.
I liked my hammock high, even though it often slid down the
tree, leaving me to wake up with my back brushing against the
cold, dew laden earth. Once my hammock was secured,
insulated against the night's chill, I moved on to help with
the fire. I've always had a knack for
starting fires, and this time was no different.
In no time we had a crackling fire around which we roasted hot
dogs and shared stories, the kind that only seemed to surface
around a campfire. However, the night took an
unexpected turn. My father-in-law, a tough old
bird who'd probably chopped more wood than Paul Bunyan, managed
to injure himself with the axe. He insisted on driving back to
town for stitches, leaving us to wonder if he would return.
Despite this set back, we enjoyed the night, the full moon
casting a surreal glow over our camp, transforming the woods
into a silver tinted Wonderland. It was the kind of night I'd
longed for during those endless days and nights of lockdown, a
return to something primal and deeply satisfying.
Little did I know, as I settled into my hammock high above the
ground, that the night held more in store for us than just
moonlit tranquility. The night grew deeper, the moon
hanging like a Sentinel over the serene wilderness.
Our campfire had simmered down to a bed of glowing embers,
casting a soft, warm light. The tranquility was deceptive,
as I would soon find out. Lying in my hammock, suspended
between the Land Cruiser and a towering pine, I gazed up at the
star strewn sky. It was moments like these that
made me forget the chaos of the world.
The constant buzz of news about the pandemic, the cries of my
newborn in the early hours. Here, under the vast canopy of
the universe, those troubles seemed trivial.
Our piece was first interrupted by an unexpected visitor.
The crunch of gravel under tires heralded the arrival of a park
Ranger in a white Silverado. His approach was friendly, but
tinged with concern. He asked if we had seen anyone
else around, explaining that a camp a couple of miles away
reported a homeless man rummaging through their stuff
and causing a ruckus. The Ranger was out looking for
him, worried that the man might be lost or hurt in the rugged
terrain. We assured him we hadn't seen
anyone and would keep an eye out.
His departure left a subtle unease in the air.
The presence of my 4570 lever action rifle in the Land Cruiser
offered some comfort. I'd face down the wildlife of
these mountains before a charging bull, moose and a
curious bear, among others. I felt prepared for anything, or
so I thought. Back in my hammock, the cool
mountain air and the gentle sway lulled me into a light sleep.
That's when the first pine cone hit me.
I woke with a start, brushing it off as a natural occurrence, but
a niggling suspicion crept into my mind.
I tried to dismiss it, closing my eyes once more, only to be
jolted awake by a second pine cone, this time striking my back
with more force. I sat up, irritation mingling
with confusion. My first thought was a prank by
my brothers in law, but a quick glance revealed them both sound
asleep in their hammocks. I strained my eyes, peering into
the darkness beyond our camp. The full moon cast long dancing
shadows, but I couldn't see anyone.
The Rangers warning echoed in my mind, amplifying my unease.
Feeling foolish yet unable to shake the feeling of being
watched, I decided to retrieve my rifle.
As I clambered out of the hammock and into the Land
Cruiser, I felt a twinge of worry for my father-in-law.
He hadn't returned, and the possibilities of what might have
befallen him nagged at me. I considered waking my brothers
in law, but decided against it. There was no need to alarm them
without cause. Back in my hammock, rifle by my
side, I tried to find sleep again.
But every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, sent my heart
racing. The wilderness, once a place of
solace, now felt like a realm of unknown threats.
I resolved then, as I lay awake, vigilant and tense, that next
time I would bring a tent. It seemed a flimsy protection
against the unknown. But it was better than hanging
exposed between 2 trees, a target for whatever lurked in
the moonlit woods. As the night wore on, every
shadow seemed to take on a life of its own, every sound a
sinister whisper. The mountains I had always known
as a haven now felt like a labyrinth of unknown dangers.
My mind raced with thoughts of the homeless man the Ranger had
mentioned, and I clutched my rifle like a lifeline.
The return of my father-in-law broke the tense silence of the
night. His Jeep Cherokees headlights
Pierce the darkness, and the familiar sound of its engine was
a welcome relief. He parked and approached my
hammock, his face etched with something I couldn't quite
place. Was it fear?
He told me in hushed tones of his strange encounter.
As he had driven up, he'd seen what he thought was a man in a
ghillie suit skulking near our camp.
He'd first thought it was me playing one of my usual pranks,
but as he got closer, he realized it was someone else, or
something else. The figure had vanished into the
woods as quickly as it had appeared.
His story sent a chill down my spine.
I thought about the pine cones, the odd noises in the night, and
the Rangers warning Was it the homeless man, or was it
something more sinister, something beyond our
understanding? The mountains were full of
legends, stories of Bigfoot and other mysterious creatures.
Were they just tales, or was there a sliver of truth in them?
We stayed up the rest of the night, our eyes scanning the
darkness, our ears straining for any sound out of the ordinary.
The rifle lay across my lap, more a comfort than a weapon,
Despite the fear, we made it through the night unscathed.
As dawn broke, we packed up our camp in silence, the events of
the night hanging over us like a heavy fog.
We stopped at the Ranger station to report our encounter.
The same Ranger was there, wrapping up his shift.
We told him about the figure in the ghillie suit and I couldn't
help but mention my half formed theory about Bigfoot.
The color drained from the ranger's face at the mention.
His reaction was odd, almost fearful.
It was just a homeless person, I thought.
But his reaction made me second guess myself.
Maybe there was more to the legends than I had allowed
myself to believe. I kept my theories to myself as
we drove back home. My father-in-law had always been
a skeptic, dismissing tales of Bigfoot as nonsense.
I didn't want to add to the strain of the night with my wild
speculations. The mountains had always been my
escape, a place of peace and solitude.
But after that night they felt different.
There was a mystery hidden in the depths of those woods, a
story untold, and though part of me long to uncover it, another
part wish to leave it undisturbed.
A secret preserved in the wild heart of the Utah mountains.