I was appointed as the pastor of the Ardmore Church of God in nineteen eighty five. I had been doing my ministerial internship at the church when I won the appointment, so I was familiar with the church and it's, shall we say, peculiar stories that surrounded it. The pastor's residence was a twenty eight foot by twenty eight foot apartment attached to the north end of the church building, and that became home to me, my wife, and our three children.
The residence was separated from the church sanctuary by a large combination dining hall and kitchen that was used for church functions. A classroom lay between the kitchen and the sanctuary, and between the dining area and the sanctuary was my office. The departing pastor and his wife reported that the big room had a creepy feel to it. They avoided the room whenever possible, and especially in the dark. They were very strong Christians, So why did they not investigate the
source of their feelings or why were they afraid? It remains a mystery to me. Perhaps that's not saying much for the Christian faith, but we don't all live up to the perfect ideal, especially when we are scared, but what can I say? My own wife and children refused to enter the room after dark, and it took a great deal of coaxing to get the kids to go in there at all. There were times they exited the residence and walked around the outside of the church to
go into the sanctuary. They said the room was haunted and it felt like they were being watched by unfriendly eyes. I admit there was something I didn't know exactly what was going on. The church was well known for its history of dissension and rather troublesome members who embraced odd doctrines. I figured they'd given the troubled history that was just a negative spirit and what people now call a vibe about the place. I had to walk through the room to get to my office, which I often did about
three in the morning. Quiet time to study and prayer comes at a premium when you have children. There was a certain increasing creepiness to crossing the room that I couldn't quite shake. The former pastor kept the coffee pot in the office rather than the kitchen. I had never given that much thought until I started arriving at the office at that early hour. I wasn't afraid to enter the kitchen area, but I had no desire to do either. I was the new pastor, but this wasn't my first
rodeo either. I had some experience with people oppressed and possessed by demons. I wasn't running from the school bully, but I wasn't exactly for a fight. All I can say in my defense is that to everything, there is a season and a time to every purpose, and the time was not yet. It seemed to me the best course was to work hard at what I did and bring in a new, more positive group of people. And to that end, I found myself relying on preaching for
more notes than was my custom. I thought this was a sign of lack of preparation on my part until some seasoned preachers came in to preach. I watched them lose their train of thought, almost in mid sentence, and they stumbled over their words they planned to preach. That I wasn't the only one struggling was a bittersweet consolation.
And then something strange happened. People longest strange from the church, career criminals, and people who had never darkened a church door began to show up on Sunday mornings and were very receptive to the gospel. At first glance, that doesn't seem so strange, or it shouldn't anyway, wasn't that what I was working and praying for? But rather than encouraging the small congregation already attending, it seemed to breed resentment, and people began to complain to me about all the
sinners who were coming to church. A couple of older ladies came to church one Sunday with smiles on their faces, and they rushed to see me after church was dismissed. They said that they enjoyed my preaching and had begun to pray at home, and then they went on to tell how they prayed before going to the casino on Saturday. They couldn't wait to get to church and make an offering from their winnings. Well, I found that kind of endearing, but many of my original faithful found it not to
their liking. Not long after that, I was in the church sanctuary in the middle of the day, and I was walking around the front of the church praying rather loudly when I heard someone come in, or perhaps felt someone come in as more precise I knew the church doors were locked, but I turned around to see who it might be, and there was no one there. That's when I realized the door I heard turned on its hinges came from the direction of the classroom that gave
unto the kitchen. A black mist the size of a human body floated onto the raised platform near the pulpit and hovered there for several moments before a face began to form beneath the mist. The decision between fight or flight passed so quickly that I have no memory of it. I commanded the thing to get out and never return. It became a blur that disappeared as it passed on my right, and the church doors rattled on their hinges like a three hundred pound offense in the line had
hit them. Stunned, I dropped down on the front pew and just sat there until the sheiks and adrenaline surge abated. I was never scared, but I don't think I was ever really in charge. As certainly as there was a demonic force present, there was a second, stronger presence too. I didn't tell anyone about what happened. The situation was repeated a few days later, and that evening my wife returned from a trip to the church kitchen to marvel
that whatever was there before was completely gone. I resigned the church a few months later. Within a year, the church closed that location and moved across town. The building the last time I saw it was a medical supply company. I didn't go inside to ask how business was or if they noticed anything peculiar with their new building. You don't know me, but your name was related to me
as someone who could solve a problem i'm having. My name is Jack Bright, and for the last seven years, I've been trying to secure a deed in mineral rights to build a secure containment facility to protect the valuables contained therein on a piece of land located in Tocopola, Mississippi. As fate would have it, mister Lilly, I was finally granted both after a lengthy legal process. As a little background information may prove valuable in assessing my dilemma, I'd
like to share this with you. The land was cheap. It was almost like the county was trying to give it away. The problem was that no one could find a living owner for the land. The last owner, listed as Jeremiah Trice, died fifteen years ago. After doing a little research on the man and his family, I discovered that he had two twin daughters, Priscilla and Quilla Trice, but I couldn't find any records showing what happened to them.
That's why it took so long to purchase the land, since the court had to legally pronounce it abandon before it could be sold to me. Before the ink was dry on the bill of sail, the crazy started in full force, and I hired a construction company to come out to clear and level the land before pouring the foundation for the new underground storage. Almost immediately I started getting reports of vandals and thieves coming one site when work was finished for the day. But the vandalism wasn't
sure garden variety type. I would classify the damage being done as impossible. Not just one, but two steam rollers were cracked beyond the possibility of repair, and multiple animal carcasses were discovered in various stages of decomposition along the
four corners of where the foundation would be poured. The immediate line of fought offered by the sheriff deputies was some kind of devil worshiping cult sneaking onto the property at night to perform some silly ritual that they believe would grant them money or power or that kind of nonsense. But no one was able to explain how the steamrollers were cracked without any indication of an industrial tool being used. The most unsettling part of this circus was the giant,
barefoot footprints located all over the site. The deputy said the cult people were probably wearing some of those big gag bigfoot shoes that you get off Amazon in an attempt to scare people off. I'm sorry, guys, I can just see these cult people walking around with these big feet strapped on their feet. I don't know, It's just
a funny image to me. Back to the letter, I don't know if all this damage is being caused by people or a bunch of sasquatch, but I was told that two night watchmen have gone missing that were keep an eye on my property at night in an attempt to catch the vandals, which means we just went from vandalism to kidnapping and maybe even murder. Needless to say,
everyone is on edge. I've had several workers resigned this past week from their positions due to the fear of being caught after hours by whatever is stalking this location every night, and I couldn't blame them one bit. But the final mind blower was this letter from my employees found on the ground yesterday morning. It was found by the work form and at the beginning of the morning shift, taped to a portajohn located on the south boundary. The envelope only had my name on it. There was nothing
out of the ordinary about the envelope. It's appearing to be standard in every way, but the note located inside of it has been the cause for many restless nights following. The letter claimed to be from the Trice twins that had disappeared from the face of the earth shortly after the death of their father, Jeremiah Trice fifteen years ago. The letter reads as follows. This land is and always will be ours by blood and by sacrifice. The bargain will always be respected. You are not of our blood,
mister Bright. You have no claim and your money is meaningless to us. Your machines offended us, and they were broken as a warning to you. But now your continued efforts have caused us to see you dead. Leave our home, mister Bright, and live or stay and die. Your warning is waiting for you on the floor of our kingdom. The crew and I found the remains of three employees scattered around the work site the next morning, mister Lily. The entire crew resigned after that, and the land has
been completely abandoned. I need your help, sir. I'm willing to pay you well for this if you're willing to take the job. But I'd also like to know if the letter was really from the twins, where have they been all this time? What did they mean about not being related to them through blood? And where the hell did those huge footprints come from. Back in nineteen sixty five, my grandfather retired from the legal profession and purchased a
little over twenty acres up in Willow Creek, California. There he had what we called today a kit farm. He had some beef and dairy cattle and sheep and chickens, and plus he grew some fruit trees and nice vegetables. He'd lived there a few years when he began to notice, after returning from fishing trips or visiting friends in San Francisco,
that there would be eggs, fruit, and vegetables missing. And then one day in mid November of nineteen seventy, he was out milking cows and he heard footsteps approaching the front side of the barn. Thinking it was my uncle stopping by for a visit, he called out his name, but no one answered. He called out to him several times,
but he still got no response. My grandfather stopped what he was doing and went out to see who was there, and as he rounded the corner of the barn, to his utter shock and disbelief, he found himself staring at a seven and a half foot tall harry being with an arrow sticking out of his right thigh. He pulled up short and shout it out in surprise. My grandmother and uncle heard him from the house and they came
out to help. My uncle brought his thirty six rifle in a forty five caliber pistol, and by the time they got there, the bigfoot had slumped to the ground and half leaning against the barn. It was clear the bigfoot was in agony, so my grandfather and my uncle decided to help him. They helped the bigfoot to the barn, where my uncle, who was a corman in the navy, administered first day. Afterwards, he asked my grandfather to give the creature some antibiotics that he kept on the farm
for animals. Then they gave him a few blankets and pillows for a bed and left him in the barn. It was a month before the bigfoot healed well enough to get back into the woods. Over the years, the bigfoot, whom my grandparents named Clarence after the angel in It's a Wonderful Life, would come back for visits. During the summer of nineteen seventy seven, when I was fifteen years old, I visited my grandparents on their farm for a few weeks. One day, my granddad took me fishing to a stream
not far from the house. We took our lunch plus an extra one in a peach pie, and after a few hours of fishing, granddad brought up the movie Star Wars. I told him I had seen it a few weeks earlier, and he asked me if I wanted to see a real life wookie. I gave him a whatever look and said, wookies or mate. Believe Grandpa, they're only in the movies. Watch and learn, he answered, and he put down his pole.
He picked up the extra lunch in the peach pie, and he carried them across the fallen tree that lay across the stream and set them down on an old stump. He crossed back over to my side of the stream and he picked up his pole again. Clarence, he called, it's lunchtime. We sat there in silence for a few minutes while I tried to figure out what granddad was
up to. And then I heard heavy footsteps coming from somewhere on the other side of the creek, and suddenly the underbrush parted an outstep the biggest, harriest person I had ever seen. I thought my granddad and one of his friends were playing a joke on me. When my uncle showed up and greeted Clarence, I was sure of it. Is this a joke, I asked, No, they answered, and then my grandfather added, they really do exist. I turned and ran back to the house as fast as I could.
My grandmother was asking me what was wrong. When my grandfather and uncle came through the door, she turned her questions on them. They explained that I had just met Clarence for the first time. In the years since my grandparents passed away, I've made several visits to Willow Creek, I check up on things, and I leave Clarence and
his family apples and other goodies. All I ask is that anyone who visits Willow Creek are anywhere there have been bigfoot sightings to please leave them in peace and goodwill. It would be nice if you left them some goodies as well. You might even get a whoop or a peak from one. My bigfoot encounter happened on Saturday night, July twenty fourth, twenty sixteen, on the edge of Yosemite
National Park Wilderness camping Area. Be careful when camping in californ bigfoots are there, even though California rangers say no, it must have been a bear. Trust me, it was no bear, and that's fact. My name is Steve and I'm fifty nine years old now. I've lived in the Golden State of California my whole life. I have always hunted since I was young, and I lived in the
city at the same time. My family had connections to the Central Valley of California, and Dad like hunting ducks and pheasants mostly, so that's how a city boy in California it turned out to be an outdoor guy who ends up owning an outfitting business in Afton, Wyoming while living in Silicon Valley in the early days, and I'm still here. Unfortunately, six years ago, while working on my home, I had a bad head trauma accident and I ended
up in the ICU for six weeks. Before the accident, I had an active life with little time to do much but what was at hand. So now I find myself, how ridden for two years with nothing to do but lay on my bed for hours having nightmares about scary thoughts. Due to the accident, I have bad PTSD. I get up every night between one thirty and three thirty, needing something to keep my mind busy from negative thoughts or
other things that I can't remember or pronounce. Each night, I get on my iPad searching for Bigfoot, and my mind would be safe for hours. During the long hours of reading and watching every video I could find, I started to learn and realize these folks had no idea what they were doing chasing these creatures. So I took my knowledge of hunting in years of outfitting, and I
started studying how to get one. The recovery from my operations was taking longer than I thought, so I was getting frustrated and I decided to get out of the house and go hunting for bigfoot. I knew that these creatures were living supposedly in my state. It's just there's a lot of woods in California, so I needed some locations to start. During my early morning studies, I read about a nationally known bigfoot organization and that is where I started. I contacted them and got set up to
go on a trip in northern California. The lead on the trip contacted us and wanted to talk about what would take place. There was no guarantee of seeing anything due to the creatures being very secretive and elusive. I told him I did not leave my home much due to the above issues, so I wasn't going to be able to go alone, and I was looking to go with another person. My wife is my caregiver and was not interested in chasing these so called bigfoot animals around
at night with strangers. Well, I had time on my side, so I started asking all my family members. None were interested in my crazy adventure idea. They thought my mind might be slipping further, but it wasn't. No one believed in these animals and they were not going to waste valuable time searching it out with me, and then I went outside the family and finally convinced a young man named Conrad, who my wife and I had mentored for
years and we love and trust him. Conrad hadn't camped ever before in his life and was looking forward to camping, but did not really think much of Bigfoot. So I was excited that I had a trip for these elusive animals and now I would get them figured out in no time. Yeah, right, I would get them figured out. Conrad and I received the email where all of us folks were to meet up for our Bigfoot research trip.
We all got to the state park camping area that we were going to call home for the next four days. While setting up our gear, we started talking with others from the group. Conrad and I couldn't believe how many of these strangers were just normal folks, seeming to be helpful to everyone. I figured that we might be in for some real crackpots chasing these creatures, and I was
prepared for anything. So everything was good to this point, and we were starting to relax and mingle, and during the first night sitting around the campfire, we discovered that we liked the same TV shows, same books, magazines, and so the days went by fast. On the last night, we had driven up to a dry, dusty fire road to park trucks and then climbed to the top of a mountain. This saw took place in the pitch dark. When we were at the top, we were just sit
and listen. We made calls and we made tree knocks to try to drum up something to respond, but everything was quiet. We spent most of the time looking at the stars and sitting on warmed rocks from the day's sun and relaxing. We spent all that time listening for any responses to our calls or knocks. Well. After a few hours, the lead person informed the group that we should have back to the trucks because we were going to meet up with another group, and we talked with
them about what we should do next. It was two thirty am, and most were tired from the past four nights of hiking and with limited sleep. We all came up with a plan and we started to go our different ways back to camp. I decided to go back the same way that I came up. I knew I had some good looks at some meadows when the light of the truck would brighten them up, and I could see everything in those fields. The lead person asked us to drive slowly to keep dust down for a better
viewing from the truck. I ask if any of the folks wanted to come with us, since I had room for three and we're going straight back to camp. Conrad and I were leaving when three ladies decided to join us for the trip back. We started down the steep, rocky slope. There was thick brush and grass on either side, and it scratched the sides of the truck as I rolled. We were all talking about how much we had enjoyed the trip and were exchanging phone numbers so that we
could keep in touch. And halfway down the bumpy road, Conrad started screaming, there's a big foot. He was pointing at a big, red eyed creature standing forty feet in front of our truck, behind some shrubs off to the right side. Well, I looked at this creature and it was standing there just staring at us. I wasn't running or even walking. It just stared at us with big red eyes the size of limes set inside sockets of
a huge head. It moved to the right. I could see shoulders in the side of its head, and I stopped the truck and at that moment, all three of the ladies who were sitting in the back started screaming because they saw this thing and they were ready to leave. I was seeing something I really was not sure existed, and I wasn't ready to leave yet, so I slammed my hand down on the dash and I said, we're here to see this thing. And there it is, and
I'm not leaving. It wasn't doing anything but standing there, and then it moved a little to the right and my eyes were locked on it. I wanted to open the door and get a better look, but I was trapped in the tiny road with bushes on either side and no space to get out. I wanted to get a better view. When it started to move out of the headlights, the head was enormous and it was all
covered in dark hair or fur of some sort. It moved further right into the bushes and small trees, but it was too dark for a picture or a video, so I just wanted to see it if I could get my fleer on it and then follow it into the forest. Unfortunately, the Fleer was in the back of the truck and I was in a tight spot on the road, and at that moment, I was not thinking of how or what to do. I just kept my
eyes on it as long as I can could. All this time, I was completely scared beyond my limits, and I was wondering if at any second I might start to have a medical situation which would make my body shake uncontrollably, and my mind began to scramble. Maybe the situation was too much for me to continue functioning due to my injuries. Well, that's why I brought Conrad so that he could get me back to camp in the event that this happened. I had no idea how he
would react if this situation were to take place. I figured out quickly as I asked Conrad to lower his window to help me figure out where this thing was, when he quickly responded by yelling, hell, no, I'm not rolling my window down. Well, I remain calm so the others would not be more scared than they already were. I wanted to get out of the truck, but then I wondered if they would drive away in a panic and leave me there. But I started to get out anyway.
I was halfway out of my truck, and I was jammed between the door and the bushes, and I couldn't keep my eyes on it. At the same time, while moving to the back of the truck through the bushes where the fleer was located, I slowly pushed through the bushes back to the truck tailgate and I reached in with one hand while watching and listening for movement. And I could hear this thing moving around, but didn't know
exactly where it was. It seemed to be moving a little further away because the branch breaking seemed to get more faint. The thought that maybe there were two or more creatures concerned me, though maybe this one was distracting us while another moved in. And in addition, I never caught wind of a foul smell. Your mind messes with you at times like this, and this situation was going by much too fast and scary for my body to
keep up. That's when I noticed that this fear was different from any other fear I'd ever felt in my life. It seemed to envelop my whole body, like if you were to ski the whole day and get cold and then walk in a warm house where the heat hits you in a rush. It was a very weird sense of fear, almost like I was in a bubble. I finally got the flare out of the truck and started looking down the small hill where the creature was before I lost sight of it and I couldn't see it anymore,
and I wasn't hearing any movement. Meanwhile, the others in the truck were radioing the group on what was happening, and asked for them to come help us. Once the others started to arrive, my fear went away as we talked about what had just taken place. I couldn't really say what had happened. Maybe I was in mild shock, but I'm glad I saw it with five other people instead of seeing it by myself. Now that makes us
all crazy, not just me. We got back to the main camp and talked more on what had taken place, cracking up on how no one else would even roun the window down to assist me. We were on a bigfoot research trip and we actually saw one, and we lost all thoughts of what we should have done, And it still makes me laugh. Conrad and I were so amped up that we couldn't sleep, so we stayed up until the morning, sitting near the fire. Both of us
were still trying to understand what we had seen. It took me two weeks to settle on the realization that we had actually seen a sosquatch. Well. The next morning we packed up camp and we left her home, where I hoped I could get some sleep. We both talked the whole way home about why our government has not been honest on this subject. At no point did I ever think of shooting it. I had carried an ACP pistol ready to use on my hip, but I never reached for it. I suppose I would have had the
fear not been so overwhelming. In addition, it makes sense to me why there have been so many sightings and virtually no good images taken. I believe it's the fear and shock of actually seeing something like this. I mean, we were on a bigfoot trip and had everything we needed in the truck, and everyone was too scared to even think about taking a picture. If we did take a picture, it would have been a big, black, blurry
blob like many others. You're caught so off guard when you get lucky enough to see one and the last thing you're thinking about is grabbing a camera. My only thought throughout the whole ordeal, even though it may have seemed to brave that I got out of the truck, was is there enough distance between me and this monster
that I can get away if I need to. I have been out many times since this encounter, and I've been out of California, and I've had many different types of interactions with these creatures, but I've never had another visual. I've hunted Alaska, Canada and all over North America, harvested many large game animals and many long distances. These bigfoot
can be taken with a properly placed shot. However, standing forty feet from this creature, I'm not the one who could have ever gotten the shot off that would have needed to take it down. The fear would not have allowed me to have been steady enough to hit the target. I shoot fifty yards offhand with pistols all the time at metal targets the size of a soda can, and I'm a good shot. I would not have had a chance at forty feet with a head bigger than a
home depot five gallon bucket. If someone can control the fear and properly place a good shot to the head. It will go down quickly in my opinion, but if you miss, you could be in for a bad day. There's more to these creatures than we all know, yet they kind of incapacitate someone with fear from doing and thinking straight. Some say it's infra sound. I think maybe we should just stay tuned until the creature allows us more insight on what is going on with them.