Archive 164 Alien Abduction and Bigfoot

suggesting an alternative explanation for occurrences of that sort. In any case, A funny thing back several weeks to a month ago, when my dad was in rehab after having a pacemaker installed. He kept complaining for three or four days about being able to hear a conversation in his room in the wee hours of the morning between two

people who weren't there. We checked the area around the room, and on one side there was in fact another room, and the walls in the place were notoriously thin, But on the nights in question, no one was in that room, so it would have been unlikely that he would have heard any voices from that source. The other side of the room shared a wall with a nurse's station that was only occupied during the day in a broom closet

on the adjoining hallway that was never used. Several others who had been assigned to that room, I was told by one of the orderlies or maybe it was a nurse I can't remember, had reported and complained about similar occurrences there. He said that he didn't know, but maybe that room was haunted. There had been at least one death in the room, he said. One of the residents apparently overheard and later told me that several people had

had similar experiences that he had heard about. All of that made me think about your comment in the Bigfoot Kills the Road Gugwe video about people in nursing homes walking around talking to people who weren't or aren't there. Maybe the people those residents are talking to are really there. Maybe they're ghosts or similar or you and the staff just couldn't see them. And as I said, maybe that's

on an alternative explanation to just dementia. I'm reminded of Terry Pratchett's line about wizards, something to the effect that wizards can see what's really there. Maybe the elders who are talking to the air, as it were, are actually conversing with someone invisible who is really there, and that could very well be the case whoever they're talking to. In just a few instances I've seen in the nursing home.

Like I refer to people who don't know what I'm talking about, I was talking about visiting my mother in law in a nursing home. I haven't spent much time in nursing homes. My grandmother was in one for years and we would go see her, but we would just go straight to her room and sit with her for a couple hours, and then we'd leave. We didn't really interact with the other patients at the at the care facility.

But in this case, this nursing home, retirement home, whatever you want to call it, here seemed to be a little more maybe crowded, I'm not sure how you would say that, but the people were more active and they would walk around and there were a couple that I would see just talking. They'd just be sitting there, like you walk by their rooms. All the rooms are open, and they're just sitting there on their bed just talking to somebody. I don't know what it is, and I

don't know if someone is there or not. There's so many mysteries to this and what happens to the mind when we get older we or if we begin to experience the effects of dementia and Alzheimer's. And I don't know the connection between the two. I pretty much just know it's two different words, and one of them means one of them means one thing, one of them means the other. Not other's experts out there, your parents or someone you know, your wife's spouse, somebody's had Alzheimer's and dementia.

So I'm not trying to be an expert on any of this. The point was is that they're talking to somebody and in their mind there is somebody there that they see. I could tell you some stories about my mother in law had a roommate a she was just living on Social Security, and you have to they stack people up in rooms. She was very comfortable, everything was working out pretty good. I honestly, I don't really think

she knew where she was, but she was happy. She was always smiling, and she was a lovely, lovely woman and I miss her terribly. My wife does too. But her roommate would often go off on these tirades about people she would see in the corner, and she would be screaming at them, screaming at him in the corner and saying really really kind of strain stuff. And so she was seeing or imagining someone and maybe there was someone bad, some entity bad there in the corner. Actually,

she was kind of pointing. At first. I thought she was pointing at me, and I was like, you're not talking to me, are you. She never acknowledged me. She just kept pointing, and I can't tell you what she was saying. It was kind of it was kind of creepy, but she was a sweet old lady and she passed away a couple of months after that. But maybe there was some kind of evil entity in the corner sitting, you know, I don't know. Maybe it was ready to pounce on me. Who knows. But anyway, all that to say,

I thought this email was interesting. I thought i'd share it with you. Has nothing to do with cryptids, but you know me, I'm always doing something different. So let's go to another story. A few years ago, I was sitting home alone on Saturday night and I was looking for something to do, and I couldn't find anyone to hang out with. So I headed an nor to a secluded spot that I used to frequent to do a

little target shooting. The moon was bright and the lonely Arizona desert at night, and I drove seven miles down a two lane highway to where a hidden dirt trail took me a mile and a half to another trail that wrapped around the mountain. My plan was to fire each of the weapons that I'd brought until they were empty, and then head back home. The whole time I was there, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Man. That is a huge theme of this podcast, isn't it.

Everybody feels like they're being watched. Anyway, back to the story. I had tracked a movement on the mountain side fifty meters away when I got there, and it looked like large piercing eyes of a towering being. But I wrote it off as a coyotee or something that only looked a big because of the angle I was viewing it from. I figured it would run off when I started firing. The first guy and I planned fire was a pistol. I took an aim and I pulled the trigger. Clicked.

That's odd, I thought, and I racked the slide and the round fell out, and I pulled the trigger again. Click. For seven rounds it was click, rack, drop. I must have some bad AMMO, I told myself. I picked up my eighteen fifty one and I cocked it and I squeezed the trigger. Click. The cap didn't discharge. I tried it again. It didn't discharge again, and there was a hiss from the fourth attempt, indicating a partial ignition. But other than that, all five rounds were duds. It was

a piece of crap, anyway, I said. Next was my hunting rifle. It was my favorite. So I brought two stripper clips and I cycled it and clicked. Every round was cycle, rinse, repeat in both magazines. It was the same for every other gun i'd brought with me that night, and I'd brought quite a few. The best I'd managed was one partial ignition in my eighteen fifty One. Months later, I tried this same AMMO in the same guns, and

I had no problems at all. My frustration with my weapons took a back seat when I suddenly tasted a pungent, foul smell, followed by the sound of footsteps, and I glanced back up to where I had seen the eyes earlier, and it was back, and I got the impression that it was glaring at me. Adjacent to it on the other hillside were two or three more sets of eyes, and I looked around and I saw five more figures

down in the valley in Unison. They all moved in on me, and I left all the guns in the bed of my truck, and I slammed the tailgate shut and jumped in the cab and turned the key to start it. The fear was welling in my stomach and it jumped into my throat when I realized that my truck, for the first time ever, failed to start. I turned the key again. Nothing, and three more times I turned that key, and then finally, as a delayed reaction, it

sprang to life. I threw it into driving a massed accelerator, and twice it spun in the soft sand and the cac die before it caught and lurched forward. I never dropped it below thirty miles per hour until I hit the asphalt, where I pushed the speedometer to one hundred. I opted to take the interstate home that night and stay off the dinky desert bike roads. As I drove, I called my girlfriend to help calm me down, but

that didn't work. So I called my buddy, who was always out there with me, and when I told him everything that had happened, he and I had the same thought, Well, I'm so anal about my guns having even one act up as a rarity, but all of them. I happened to glance down at the clock as we were talking, and it was one am. I left home at eight pm. I drove forty five minutes to the spot, and I was there for less than an hour and was back on the highway in less than twenty minutes, talking to

my friend on the phone. It shouldn't have been any later than ten pm, but it was one am. How did that much time pass so quickly? And to this day I have no explanation for it. When I got home that night, I'll pull the powder from the black powder rifles to investigate, and every one of them had exactly the same amount of powder they would have if they'd been fired. I waited till the next morning to go check my Kentucky rifle, but all the measurements were right.

I'll never go out to the desert alone at night again. It's been a few years since this happened, and it still shakes me up to go out at night at all. I won't write what I know these creatures to be. I am superstitious, and after that night, I don't want to take any chances. It's taken me years just to write down this incident at all. I'm riding it now because a few days ago I went back. I had

to get some answers. My friend came with me this time, and we arrived before the sunset and we walked the whole area. The spot where I first saw the eyes is inaccessible by humans. The distance they covered when they moved in on me was too far and too difficult

to do in the time that they'd done it. We found evidence of dwellings made by something beside Cody's and Jivelina's and the Palo Verde tree that had been snapped off seven feet off the ground and bent down to create a wall that blocked the sun on that side. We climbed up to it and found scratch marks that looked suspiciously like claw marks, and the ground underneath it had been picked clean of stones. Considering the fact that the entire area was made of stones, that was a

bit odd. As night drew near, we walked further down to the U shaped valley and I made a fire to burn some of the rains trash left by other people. I was hoping it would draw in the prying eyes I had seen before. It was uneventful until it wasn't. I heard a rustling of what I thought was a rabbit or a cody and the bushes to our east, and seconds later I saw a figure crossing the slope we had just walked down. I knew immediately that it

was not a hiker. I trained my rifle on it and watched as it traversed the hard terrain, and it stopped behind a tree that partially blocked my view. It was too dark to get a clear picture, but I could see well enough to know that the creature was staring at us, and it didn't like what we were doing. A feeling of ill intent swept over me, and I realized that I may not like what this creature was planning.

It stood behind the massive paaloverde for five minutes, staring through a fork in the tree that I knew was well over six feet above the ground. I was not comfortable with the idea of being stared at by one of these things that had run me off years before. My buddy suggested that I fire a warning shot, and I managed to prove a large branch above its head, and the branch fell at its feet as the shot

echoed through the valley, but the creature never moved. A few minutes later, we decided it was time to leave, and I maintained my staring contests with the beast while my buddy packed up. I knew not to back down to this animal. I've always been told they'll charge and if I turn my back, but if I stay firm, they'll be more wary. Although I didn't see any others that night, I felt their presence as we drove back

around the mountain. The Sognooran Desert is my home. I grew up here and I camped here since I was a kid, and I know the Native Americans who have lived here since long before the Europeans arrived. I've shared this story with them, and they've told me their own tales. I don't know for certain what these creatures are, but I'm sure that you can guess the name that I would give them. The supernatural is never my first thought. But if anyone else has an explanation, I'd love to

hear it. What I need most of all is answers. In nineteen ninety, my husband and I moved to Bentonville, Arkansas, from Texas, Okay. The event takes place in Arkansas, close to Bentonville, up in the northwest part of the state. She writes. My parents helped us load the U haul. Dad, my husband, and my little brother went in the truck, and me and Mom and my sister were in the car.

There's a turnpike that starts near Paris, Texas, and it goes to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and it's called the Indian Nation Turnpike. This turnpike in nineteen ninety was the loneliest road in Oklahoma. Mom said that I should get some sleep deep and I could take the wheel in Muskogee. I was asleep when I heard my mother scream What the hell was that? With sleepy eyes, I could see that she was pale with fear. Maybe it was amazement, and I told her

to stop and let me dry, but she wouldn't. Dad stopped at the gas station in McAllister, and he looked worried. He and my mother hugged each other and he said, no one says a word. Well, we were all asleep, so none of us had seen it. And later Mom told me in the car that she had seen an eight foot tall naked man covered in hair walking on the side of the road, and when we passed it,

it ran between our two cars. I guess my father had seen it too, but he didn't say anything, and my mother swore it was a bigfoot up until the day she passed away. We never told our kids this story until my son had his encounter. Willis, Texas is like any small town, and when we moved here, the population was four thousand people. We moved to a neighborhood of mobile homes and it was wooded in some spots and heavily wooded on the north side of the street.

In that area, a young boy could explore to his heart's content. Sam Houston National Forest is connected to those woods. One day, my son and his friend came into the house and they were breathing hard and scared to the point that he was shaking. I asked them what had happened, but his friend kept telling me that he just wanted to go home. My husband told him that he would take him home, but he said he had called his dad and they were going to meet us on the trail.

At this time, my son was eleven years old. My energetic, talkative boy was quiet, and he went to his room and he shut the door. My husband and I were concerned, so we went in to talk to him. The blinds and curtains and sat in the dark, and when we came in, he asked us not to turn the lights on, but he knew that I have a phobia of the dark, so he turned on his lamp. He kept saying, please believe me, I know what I saw, and we said, well, tell us what you saw and we will believe you.

He and his friends went to do their boy things in the woods, exploring and all, and soon it was getting late and the other boys decided to head home, and he and another friend decided to check a pond to see if there were any fist jumping. Then they heard footsteps in the woods. They thought maybe it was an animal like a deer or a cow, but then they figured out it was walking toward them, and then

they heard a whistle and then the walking stopped. His friend told him that he was getting spooked and they decided to walk back to their bikes, and then the thing started walking beside them in the woods. Well, my son looked over and he saw something red and dark in the trees. He said it was tall, and he kept telling his friend to walk faster. He knew if he ran, this thing would chase after him. And finally

they got to their bikes and they took off. They could hear the creature running beside them in the woods still, and at one point his friend's chain broke on the bike. My son stopped long enough for his friend to run and jump on the bike, and at that time he looked over and there was a face of a human ape man looking right at him from the woods. He said,

the teeth were the scariest thing about it. Well, my son took off, and when he looked back in the mirrors of his bike, this thing stepped out in the road. He said he about peede his pants, but he kept on going until he got to the house. And then he looked at me and he said, Mom, this thing is real and it's here. Two days later, I was doing dishes late at night. I had six children in the house and they were all teens except this one son, and it was the only time I could really clean

and watch TV. I looked out the window because my dog was whimpering and scratching at the door. That was weird because he loved being outside. Well. I went to the door and he ran inside, and then I looked toward the woods and I saw something in the dark, and it was moving and it was big. I slowly closed the door and I locked it, and I ran to my daughter. My husband was working nights then, and she turned off the lights and we looked out the window and she saw it too. I told my husband,

but he told us that we were imagining it. And then one night, taking out the trash, something happened to him. I don't know what it was, but what I do know is he said that we're moving. Years later, my son told me that the creature knew where we lived because it waited for him to come outside, but he never did. He is a father now, and when I go to Bigfoot conferences, it is for him and my mother. He tells me, I know you believe me, Mama. Thank you. Well.

He's one tough young man, but look into his eyes, and you know the event is very real. I don't know if you take alien abduction stories, but I'm compelled to tell my story to you. I think there are many stories out there, but they don't dare talk about it. Anyway, Here goes mine. Let me start to tell you that I was an RN for thirty five years. I was an educator and a director. I lived in Florida for

many years and got my nursing education there. Back in my college days, it wasn't uncommon to go on a date and then go parking on a deserted country road. Those days, it was just a big kiss fest. After a while, I had to step into the bushes and use the restroom. Eventually he took me home. He kissed me good night, and I got ready and went to bed. No drama at all so far. I woke up the next morning when I was getting dressed, and I noticed a deep wound in my right hip. It was one

and a half inches deep. It had a dark ring around the entrance. I could put my little finger down in it, almost to my second knuckle. Normally, when you get a wound like this, it bleeds and it hurts. It usually gets infected. It drains until healed up, and then it leaves a scar, but not this wound. It didn't hurt at all, and it didn't bleed, it didn't get it infected, and it never drained. I eventually healed up.

It did not leave a scar. I didn't tell anyone for years, except one time I told a lady doctor about it, and her eyes got really bad and she freaked out a little. She told me that it was impossible. Well impossible or not, it happened. I'm retired now, and throughout the years I've had occasional visions of a white alien face staring down on me while I lay on

a stretcher. I was watching one of the alien abduction TV shows a couple of months ago, and in that episode, this poor guy was being tormented by aliens flying around his property. They brought in a hypnotist to uncover his memories. He reported that he had been abducted at one time or another. I thought that this is a good idea. I wanted to get to the bottom of what happened to me that night. I had a friend who was

a psychologist and she was trained to do hypnosis. I was a bit scared, but I went through with it anyway. I was taken back to the scene of that night. I was walking back to the car after spending a few minutes in the bushes, and suddenly a clear white light came down on me and pulled me up into a spacecraft. When I got into the craft, there were two tall white aliens to greet me. It was small in there, and to my right there were controls to

the craft. In the back was a white bench with what looked like specimen tubes lined up, and in the middle was a narrow white bed. One of the whites made it known to me that I was to lie on the white bed. I protested, but I laid down as directed. He took a green, glowing stick that looked like a pencil, pulled down the corner of my pants and on my left hip, pierced my skin with it. Things got fuzzy after that, but I asked him why

he was doing that. He telepathically said to me d n A. That totally freaked me out as to why they wanted my DNA. I will leave you to speculate why this alien wanted my DNA. I have my own theories. I would like to say that that was the end of the story, but it's not. When I was in my fifties, I woke up one morning and I noticed that the outer eyelashes on both eyes were neatly clipped off at an angle. The shortest cut off lashes started at the outer corner of my eye. The cut angle

up to the lashes in the middle. This made a nice triangle cut of my outer lashes on both eyes. I thought, what in the world would cause this. I then remembered that when doctors want the eye wide open, they would put a clamp on the outer lashes that could potentially break off in the same pattern. All I could think is that they came back for a checkup. May I add that I was not scared of the watch during my hypnosis. They seemed familiar. I do know that me and both of my sisters were terrified of

aliens at night when we were little girls. That's the end of my true story for now. I don't know if this is appropriate for you or not. Use it if you like. Please don't use my name. I don't need any men in black coming to bother me.