Archive 114 Bigfoot and Paranormal

was clearing tables. Sean, our friend who managed the pub, led us over to the bar and we were standing there talking when the bar maid who was cleaning the tables came over to us and announced that she found the mouthpiece. That statement didn't make sense to us, so Sean explained that the building was home to two ghosts. One was forever stealing the mouthpiece from one of the brass bugles, and the other would slam doors shut throughout the night. It was a good tale, but I don't

know that we fully believed him yet. Last orders was announced and the pub soon emptied, leaving my friends and me waiting at the bar for Sean to complete his closing duties. When we refilled our glasses and headed up to the top floor where Seawn's living quarters were. As we were about to ascend the last flight, Sean tapped me on the shoulder and knotted down the corridor. There were three doors along this quarter that were all shut, but at the end was one door that wasn't shut

and it was half open. I followed Sean gazed to that door, and I watched in fascination as it slowly and smoothly, without so much as a jerk, closed with a gentle click as it latched. This gave me goose bumps, and Sean just smiled and led the way up the final flight to his flat. We were having a good visit with Sean and his girlfriend, but it wasn't long until it was time to go back downstairs and refill

our glasses. No one was moving, so I volunteered. It took me a while to find my way in the dark, and I managed to get through the kitchen and refill four pint glasses plus an orange juice for Sean's girlfriend. I don't mind telling you that my faults were on that mouthpiece in the slowly closing door. I knew i'd have to find my way back upstairs, and that didn't help much either. As I got to the landing before the last flight, I couldn't resist stopping and looking down

that corridor where I'd seen the gently closing door. I was concentrating on the door i'd seen close earlier, when suddenly something began banging. The other three doors slammed shut hard. I was jolted into action. You can call me a whimp if you like, but I ran up those stairs as fast as my feet would take me. I couldn't reach Sean's door fast enough, and I admit that I never lost sight of my priorities, though I never spilled

a drop of beer. It was nineteen sixty three. It was summertime in New York, and I was nine years old. My older brother was thirteen, and at that time we lived in a county bordering Pennsylvania. It was the only county in the state without an incorporated city, and to this day it is very remote. It's as far back in the sticks as anyone can get, and if you were to go any further, you would be on your

way out. We lived up a dirt road that was miles from any town with a population of even five hundred. The area consisted of only fields and forests. Of course, there were a lot of wildlife, and we were familiar with every species there, or so we thought. One night, my brother and I were on the front lawn. There was no moonlight, which gives you a very ominous feeling, especially when you're a kid in such a rural area.

The dead silence added to the strange feelings we were having. Suddenly, the silence was broken when out of the darkness came a blood curdling scream. Did you hear that? I said, and I think we both spoke at the same time. Of course we knew the other it heard it, because you would have to be deaf not to We were wide eyed with fright, and that scream was ear piercing, and it was not a short scream. It was terrifying and like nothing I could ever imagine. I struggled to

find an explanation. Because I was the one who usually had the answers to things. My brother had always been a bit slower to figure things out. Therefore, I knew he would be depending on me for an explanation. I took a few minutes to think about it, and I said, maybe it's George up on the letter S Road beating his wife. That was the best I could come up with,

but it didn't convince my brother. Then we heard the scream again, and my brother said, now that scream came from the woods across the lake on this side of the stone wall. George lives way past that. I just have to stop here, and I've got a question. So George beat his wife, and you guys could hear him her screaming all that way? Did anybody ever think to go over and beat the shit out of George? Just wondering,

All right, let's move on with the story. The scream came the third time and we were utterly completely terrified. Maybe it's a cougar. I said. That explanation didn't convince him either. He pointed out that there weren't any cougars in the area. What is it? Then? I asked, if you didn't like any of my suggestions, what is yours? Well, he was of no help because he said he didn't know, and then the screams stopped, and neither of us were going to enter that dark, creepy woods to find out

the source. Therefore, I told myself that it must have been a cougar. Perhaps they were coming back into the area and we weren't aware of it. That answer would have to suffice for now because there was no other explanation, and for many years I held on to that belief. We never spoke of it after that, or mentioned it to our parents. I think we were too afraid to even give it any more thought. In our minds, it

was best if we just left the miter alone. It is unimaginable how terrified someone can become when this happened. I hadn't forgot it, and I still wanted an answer. Finally, with the help of the Internet, I started to do some research, and now I'm entirely convinced that it was neither a woman screaming or a cougar. Thank god, George wasn't beating his wife again. That's all I've got. That's the thing that makes me the happiest about this story.

Based on the descriptions and recordings that I had heard online, I'm now sure that it was a side squatch. Neither my brother nor I have heard anything even remotely like we had heard on that night many years before. I'm thankful that neither of us chose to investigate the source of those terrifying screams. The outcome probably would have been a good one. Now the writer has another story here, and I'm going to share that with you. The following

event is something I will never forget. I remember the date because it was the day before my grandfather's birthday party. It was in mid February two thousand and seven. I left the golf course at five pm. The western horizon was bright yellow by the soon to be setting the sun. I looked to my left and observed a shape silhouette against the sky that was approaching from the southwest. If it was a bird, it certainly was a weird shaped

one with a strange appearance. I headed toward the north main highway and continued to watch it as well as I could while driving course. As I continued, the shape grew larger. I turned left on the main road, realizing this was not a bird. My mind was overworking as I tried to figure out what this could be since this thing was heading in my direction. I pulled off the main highway. It turned slightly toward me, and my

mouth flew open in astonishment. If someone were to post a photo of my expression at that time, I'm sure it would go viral immediately. How about posting a photo of this bird That might go viral real quick. Anyway, I keep getting sidetracked in this story, so excuse me. In my opinion, it was a vehicle that never should have been able to get off the ground, let alone fly. I was only able to see it for a few seconds, but it is ingrained in my memory, and this is

how I would describe it. It had the shape of a windowless shuttle craft from the starship Enterprise. It had two huge globes, one on each side, attached to the exterior of the craft, midway between the front and back. The globes were copper colored, with what looked like black old ring gaskets around the center of each globe. There was no sound coming from this strange craft, nor was

there any wind gust as one might expect. As it passed overhead, it went slightly to the north and sped off at tree top level in the direction of Mount Shasta. To my surprise, the traffic was passing by as it would any other time. Was I the only one that could see this? While I was wondering what was going on? I got back into my car with my mind spinning, and I started home. What had just happened? Why didn't anyone else react? The questions wouldn't stop entering my brain.

I couldn't have been the only one that saw this craft since it came right over the main part of town. I returned home and tried to clear my mind or at least make some sense of this experience, and I decided to report it to the local police and the local newspaper. To my amazement, not a single person had reported seeing anything out of the ordinary. Since no one had seen anything, I decided to keep it to myself, even though I had a strong feeling of wanting to

share this with everyone. I did tell a few people that I knew I could trust, but even to this day, they give me a lot of ribbing and make a lot of jokes about it. Now, finally I found a place where I can share this event with everyone without being ridiculed. I'm thankful for this opportunity, and I feel a bit of relief being able to do so. So now maybe I'm not crazy. Well, to the writer, maybe you're not crazy. And I'm so glad that George wasn't

killing his wife or beating her again. I don't know why that's sticking in my mind in this story, but it was. It was just I don't know, it was a kind of an odd thing to assume. Oh, that's probably George beating his wife. Nothing to see here, Everybody move along. Anyway. A lot of stuff happened in this story, and for some reason, that's the only thing that sticks in my mind. So I don't know, it's probably just me. I just thought it was kind of weird. Let's move

on to something else. The year of my encounter was twenty nineteen. I had graduated high school the year before and had been attending the University of Idaho, and in the spring, I was feeling burned out and decided to take a long weekend back home to Priest Lake, Idaho. While I was home, I just felt the need to get out in the woods, which have always been my

place of peace and rest. It was a season for picking morals, so I grabbed a basket and fired up my dirt bike and headed for my family's home, which was already a twenty minute drive from the nearest small town, and I went deep into the woods. I went to a secret spot where I had always had good luck picking morals, and while they weren't as plentiful as normal,

there were enough to keep me in the area. I had been picking morals and wandering around for an hour and decided to sit down and rest and eat a quick snack down by the small creek that flowed through the area. I'd been sitting for maybe ten minutes when I saw a deer come walking along the creek bed. It was upwind with me and had taken no notice, so I just sat still and watched it for a few minutes until the wind shifted at ninety degrees, I caught a foul odor, not a skunk like odor, but

more like a mixture of carrying garbage and feces. At that exact moment, the deer lifted its head and sniffed the air and bolted right up the bank of the creek toward me. It came close to me, maybe thirty or forty feet away, and it didn't notice me at all. A moment later, just across the creek, I heard a loud huff and a thud, and I looked over to the creek to see what I would have described as a bigfoot, but you will soon understand why I don't.

It was a shaggy ape like creature, something between a gorilla and an orangutang, but it was more upright. It had matte black fur that almost seemed to absorb the light. It had a partially bare face with dark skin, had yellow teeth with huge canines. This creature was probably seven feet tall, and I would guess three hundred and fifty pounds. It wasn't skinny, but it also was not overly bulky.

I was absolutely stunned, and I was frozen where I sat just for a few moments after I saw it and it saw me, and the sheer rage and its eyes became terrifying. It took a few steps toward me and then stopped, and it let out a shrieking scream that was partially like the scream of a mountain lion and partially like the roar of an actual lion, and partially indescribable. I felt it in my chest and I slapped my hands over my ears, almost expecting to feel

blood leaking out of them. This shriek went on for what seemed like a minute but was probably just a couple of seconds. At this point, the the creature was only sixty feet away from me, just across the creek and on the other bank, and I could see the spittle and drool flying off its teeth as it screamed. It took another step toward me, and it picked up a fist sized rock and was winding back its arm to send it flying toward me when I heard another

sound from just up the creek. It was a loud whoop, and it rang out and the creature and I turned up streamed to see another creature standing in the water about one hundred feet away. Now this creature was massive. It was well over eight feet tall and I would guess between four hundred and fifty and five hundred and fifty pounds with dark red, black matted fur. It had a hairless face and a high forehead, and it was tapering to a slight cone at the top of its head.

It had a broad chest and huge shoulders with extremely long arms. One of the first things I noticed was the broad, flat teeth and nails, while the other creature had sharp teeth and claws. The first creature at this point let out another shriek, and it threw the rock at the second creature, hitting it in the chest with a distinct warmth. The second creature let out a series of barking coughs. It was almost a laughing sound, and

it took a few steps toward the first creature. The first creature suddenly looked panicked and spun around and ran into the brush and off into the woods, and the second creature led off after it, faster than I would have ever believed possible for such a big animal. Its fur was flapping in the wind behind it, and it gave it an almost blurry appearance as it leapt up the bank in a single stride and disappeared into the

woods after the first creature. Seconds later, I heard another shriek from off in the woods in the direction that they had gone, and it was followed by a much higher pitch shriek of pain, and then a series of yelps and wines, and a moment of silence, and then a series of victorious whoops. By that time I had finally found my ability to move and I stood up

and grabbed my basket of morals. I ran the quarter mile to my bike as fast as I possibly could, still hearing triumphant whoops from off in the woods, and the second I got there, I kicked the engine over and tore up the old logging road I had come in on. I never bothered with my helmet until I got whipped in the face by a branch of a bush. Then I walked into the house and I took off

my helmet, and my dad immediately asked me what was wrong. Well, I thought he must have seen something in my eyes, but it turned out that the branch had left a bleeding whelp on my cheek and across my nose, and I hadn't even noticed the pain and in front of my mother and my younger so I told my dad that I had just slipped. But later that night, alone around a campfire in the backyard, I explained to him

what had really happened. He told me that I should have left the morals as a thank you, and insisted that we go leave an offering. First thing in the morning.

We raided the refrigerator, collecting a basket of fresh vegetables, a small piece of cheese and some peanut butter, which my dad scooped out and put in some paper cupcake wrappers, and as the sun was coming up, we left the food right where I had been sitting when I first saw the creatures, and as we pulled away in the truck a few minutes later, I heard one quiet whoop

from down by the creek. I had been back to that spot several times since, but never without a side arm, and never without a small offering of thanks to the Bigfoot that saved my life from the impersonator.