Archive 171 Bigfoot

father's business. I just remember driving down long highways for hours during the day and late at night. It had to have been two or three in the morning on one of these trips, while we went as fast as the van would take us down a dark highway lined with dead pines on both sides. The area is referred to as the Sticks here in Manitoba. It's a spooky place to be in the daylight, much less in the dark. My head rested on the passenger door as we listened

to loud music. My father always had the volume loud. He loved good music. I was used to it. So I sat there in a numb state, watching the dead pines fly by in the glow of the headlights. My ear was close to the window, and I could faintly hear footsteps crunching in the gravel. I figured it was part of the music, but the noise continued between the songs. Whatever this noise was, it was running and keeping pace

with the car. We were about to enter and drive through Riding Mountain State Park, where the speed limit was reduced. So my father, who obviously had not heard the noise I was hearing, slowed to the speed limit. I reached to the radio and I switched it off. Do you hear that, Dad, I asked, I do what is that? He said, looking over his right shoulder through the back windshield. Abruptly, he pulled the car over on the gravel median, and he opened the door. With one leg still in the car,

he stood up and he looked over the roof. He immediately dropped back into the driver's seat, through the car in gear and floored it. Gravel sprayed behind us. I got real worried, but I don't know what he saw. The dead pines blew past us, now faster than before, and with his high beams on. Now the road was lit well enough for me to see far ahead. We traveled a short distance and the footfalls were back on

my side of the car again. My father pushed the gas pedal harder and that clunky old van picked up not much speed, but whatever was running beside the car was having no trouble keeping up. Turned in my seat to look, and what I saw is hard to describe because it was so big that I could only see the legs in my field of view. I leaned over in this seat to tilt my head up, and although I could not make out any details, I did see

how big this very fast thing was. At my age then I would have said it was two stories tall. I think that's about seven meters or twenty feet. I don't know, but it was enormous and it was powerful. Watching the black, hairy, muscular legs run beside the car scared me to death. My father was freaking out as well, but he held it together and he kept driving. There was no place to go but straight ahead, and then the footstomps began to fade in the distance. I began

to breathe again, and Dad slowed down some. We never said a word. I wanted to get back to the city lights, and I think he did too. We were coming off riding Mountain Pass and a large green sign was in the distance ahead. Our headlights made that sign reflect like a ship coming to save us on a stormy sea. I watched the sign get closer and I saw a huge, shadowy figure cross in front of it. It had run fast enough to get ahead of us, maybe through the pines, maybe on the other side of

the road, and we had just missed it. Dad pointed ahead and he said something that I never heard. He pressed me back into the seat. This night was not over yet. The sign was coming up fast, and I guess my father decided turning around was an exercise in futility. So while we were going downhill, he gave that tin can as much gas as it would take. I felt like we were driving one hundred miles per hour, and

my eyes were fixed on that sign. I saw the creature move behind the sign and lower itself as if it were hiding. Huge dark hands were visible where he held on to the top of the sign, blocking the reflective glow. If this is it, then this is it, I heard my dad say under his breath, and I knew something bad was about to happen. We were almost even with that sign. I pushed my feet against the floorboard and I gripped the arm rest. But at that moment,

a calm peace came over me. I was just a kid, but somehow I was able to prepare myself for whatever was about to happen. In some strange way, I was ready. We blew past that sign, and this creature did something I never expected. Just as we were even with the beast, it poked its head out from behind the sign. In the headlights, I could see its face, orange eyes reflected back at us. At the last minute, it extended its head,

almost touching the passenger side window. For a split second, we were face to face, with a thin sheet of glass between us. At that moment, I saw eyes as big as golf balls, two slits in its face for a nose, and two rows of white teeth. As it smiled at me. It was more of a sinister grin, but it was a smile all the same. Suddenly I got the feeling that it was messing with us. After seeing its speed and obvious strength, I think it could have swiped our car right off into those spooky dead

pines at any minute if it had wanted to. We were now a good distance down the pass, and the car filled with an odor that I cannot describe. We didn't want to roll the windows down for fear of this thing still being close. But the further we drove, the less offensive of the oder became. I am an adult now. All the years since I assumed that this was a sisquatch, but now I don't think it was. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was a demon or a troll, but I'm pretty sure it was

not a sisquatch. It was something worse. I still deal with bad dreams over that night. Now they are less frequent as the years go by. I doubt I will ever forget that night. And my father has never said a word about it since. My niece came home and told my sister that she thought she had seen a bigfoot in the sam Houston National Forest. They live in a small town called cut and Shoot on Highway one oh five between Cleveland and Conroe, which borders the sam

Houston National Forest and the Big Thicket. The Big Thicket has called that because it's a merger of the southern pine forests to go coastal plains and the Louisiana Swamps. They come together to create a jungle type environment. It was said in my youth that you couldn't go into the thicket for more than one hundred yards before you

would step on a water moccasin. With the expansion of civilization and the encroachment of urban style neighborhoods, I would dare say that now you can venture as far as two hundred yards before stepping on a water moccasin. Oh, that's a great improvement. Running wolf at any rate. My sister told my niece that she probably saw a deer. My niece replied that it was big and brown, and

it was walking on two legs. My sister has always had a crush on Bobo Fay from the TV show Finding Bigfoot, so she immediately started thinking that if they found some tracks, they might be on the Bigfoot Show with Bobo Fay. My sister grabbed her small gun, a double barrel twelve gage shotgun loaded with double lot buckshot, and said let's go. My niece said, Mama, don't you think it's going to be dangerous for the two of us? And my sister replied, yes, but maybe the sasquatch will

survive anyway. They returned to the area where my niece saw the bigfoot. No tracks were found because the thick layer of pine straw covering the ground, but they did find fresh limbs broken off about eight feet high, and they were all pointing in the same direction. My sister made this observation and said, you know, I think that this creature is pointing out a direction for others of his kind to follow him. It was late in November of twenty twenty. And here's the interesting part of the story.

The following day, on the very front page of the Cold Springs Gazette was the story titled Bigfoot spotted on San Juacento and Liberty County Lines. My sister told my niece he must have traveled fast, because when we were looking for him in the Sam Houston Forest, he was already east of us. All hopes of being on the Bobo fet show were diminishing rapidly, but my sister was convinced that my niece saw a bigfoot. And this is my story submitted by Running Wolf. Well. I would say

Running Wolf, your knees had great aspirations. She was really really ready to get on that show and talk about the bigfoot that she saw. And I'm sad that that didn't work out, but I'm sure they had fun anyway. It sounds like both of the women have a great sense of humor. In her high spirited and really aren't afraid of anything. But I thought it was an interesting story and I wanted to share it with you, guys. Running Wolf. Thanks for writing it, man, it was really nice. Thanks.

I had no idea it was a bigfoot at the time. I believe it was one. Now I live in the most populated state of the United States, and you would think that there's no place for a bigfoot to roam freely in New Jersey, but evidently they do. We lived in South Jersey, not far from the pine barrens the summer of the bi centennial. I was seventeen years old. The two hundred year celebration of our wonderful nation was just around the corner. Many towns were planning big parades

and even bigger fireworks. I was looking forward to partaking in these celebrations. I had a reputation as a goody two shoes and actually had been called this name by many of my friends. I had a problem, though, that could change all of that. I was smitten with a guy who was known as a bad boy. Although we were the same age. He had street smarts and I had none. He rode dirt bikes and was a rough

and tumble type of fellow. He already sported a few tattoos, and in those days, tattoos were not as popular as they are today. One of us tattoos was a skull with a knife through it, with blood dripping from the knife. This tattoo kind of frightened me, but he was nice to me and that intrigued me. He would ride his dirt bike to my house on occasion to visit and to hang out. My mom would say, don't you ever get on that motorbike with him. You'll be in big

trouble if I catch you doing that. I knew this tattoo would not go over well with my parents, so he did what I asked, and he would wear long sleeves when he came to visit me. I was the fifth of seven children, raised with the rules that were set forth by the bad behavior of my older siblings. I had to behave or else. Plus I really didn't want to upset my dad, as I had already witnessed the punishment my older brothers had received from him. I

wanted to remain the good girl. The Pine Bearings is a very large forested area over one million acres that stretches across more than seven counties in New Jersey. The name Pine Barrens refers to the area's sandy, acidic nutrient poor soul. This area was also known as the Pinelands. This vast area supports rare plant life, including orchids and carnivorous plants, as well as the pygmy pitch pines that depend on the frequent fires of the Pine Barrens to reproduce.

This area was largely undisturbed despite its proximity to Philadelphia and New York City. My bad boy guy friend wanted to take me on the Fourth of July to one of the fire towers located in the pine Lands. We would climb up to the top and watch the small town's fireworks from eighty feet above the ground, and it is off limits to the public. I knew my parents would never give me permission to go, and this meant that I would have to lie. I told my mother

that we would be attending a friend's barbecue. Lying to them made me uncomfortable. These were the days before cell phones and tracking, so I said yes to this crazy, exciting idea. We actually did go to the barbecue, but we left around eight pm to head out to the location of the fire tower. We both jumped in his truck with dirt bike in the back. The events that were about to happen are seared into my memory forever.

We drove for twenty five minutes while the sun set slowly and the sound of firecrackers and pops could be heard in the distance. Once we left the paved road, the woods grew thicker and darker. This dirt road was a firebreak that the Forest Service made to slow the spread of wildfires. We drove on this road for a few miles and then bad Boy pulled off the road and grabbed a small flashlight from the glo love compartment of the truck and said, let's go. It's getting dark fast.

I was gitterally and nervous for disobeying my mother. I could hear her saying, you'll be in big trouble if I catch you riding that motorbike. As I walked to the rear of the truck to help get the dirt bike out, I was rethinking my attire. I had on my new four inch high cork heeled sandals and my fraid cut off jeans. I think I was more concerned about looking cute than practical. And then bad boy ask, are those the only shoes you have with you? Yes?

I said. He told me he would go slow and showed me where to place my feet on the bike. We would have to ride about fifteen minutes through the forest before getting to the fire tower. I held on with my arms around his waist. He kick started his bike and we were off. He was evidently familiar with these trails. As we went deeper into the woods, I was thinking, if this is slow, I don't want to know what it feels like to go fast. But I

was actually starting to enjoy the ride. When we arrived at our destination, he shut off the dirt bike and we both climbed off. He shined the flashlight on the menacing fire tower. It was taller than I imagined. He said he thought it was eighty feet tall and couldn't wait for me to see the view. The fireworks were going to start soon and we needed to get up there. I cautiously proceeded in my four inch high courk hill sandals. The open stairs were in a zigzag format and they

were steep. He put the flashlight on me so I could see where I was going. As we climbed. I asked if we were all allowed to be here. He said no, but not to worry, because he and his dirt bike friends had been there many times and no one had ever said a word. A little more than halfway up, we heard it, this terrible scream come from the forest below. My first thought was that someone was being murdered down there. We stopped at the sounds, and

bad Boy seemed concerned. He shined his flashlight below us. It was a small flashlight and we couldn't see the ground. We were really high up. We kept climbing, thinking that we might be able to see better from the top. A sound that came thundering through the woods below us. I can't describe it any better than to say that it sounded like something maybe a bulldozer, was crashing through and running over trees, but there was no engine noise. At first it was far off, but it was getting

closer to the tower. We froze in place. Bad Boy yelled up to me, turn around and let's start climbing down. We need to leave now. He was trying to hold the flashlight on my feet so I could see, but this process was causing us to go slower. I yelled down at him, just go. The sound of the trees cracking was like gunfire, and at one point I believed

it could have been gunfire. I was so horrified and shaking, trying to clench my toes tight to keep my shoes from falling off my feet that I almost fell twice. Losing one shoe by accident and then kicking the other off on purpose helped me to go faster. We were close to the bottom and the noise stopped, complete silence. This scared me as much as the noise. What was making the noise and where was it now? Not knowing where it was was worse to me than the noise itself.

It was so close, and then all of a sudden it had stopped. I was so scared that I had trouble standing up. We made it to the dirt bike. I climbed on behind him while he was kickstarting the bike. That scream came out of the woods again, in close to us. It was louder, and whatever made the screen was right on us. I don't know if that was because we were at ground level or that it was really closer to us, but it vibrated through my body. I was about to pass out, and then the bike started.

I found out what fast was really like on a dirt bike, and I didn't care. I was happy to be going fast. I closed my eyes tight and held on for dear life. We came to an abrupt stop. I opened my eyes. Bad boy jumped off and hollered to me to hold up the bike, so I grabbed the handlebars and hurried to hold the bike up. He ran up ahead of us and began to drag a large branch out of the middle of the dirt trail. He cleared it just enough for us to skirt by racing all the way back to his truck. We both

jumped off the bike. He threw me the keys and said start the truck. I jumped in and, without ha hesitation, started the truck as he quickly got the dirt bike in the truck bed. Within a few seconds, he was driving us back to the paved road. I was trembling. My legs would not stop shaking, my bare feet were scratched and hurting. I kept looking back, half expecting something or someone to be following us. But we got closer to the paved road and bad Boys said, that has

never happened here before. What was going on back there? Of course I had no answer. I asked him if we had taken another route back to the truck from the fire tower, because I didn't remember a tree branch across the trail. He said that he had taken the exact trail back to the truck and the limb had not been there, and that it was not a dead limb. It was green and had been placed in our way.

We both kept silent for the thirty minute ride home, listening to the distant cracking pops of the various towns fire works with glimpses of sparkles in the night sky. This was the fourth of July that I would never forget. And as an epilogue, here's what she writes, and I love this. My bad boy turned out to be a good guy. I guess my goody two shoes ways rubbed

off on him. Forty years married and two daughters later, we are very happy that skull and knife tattoo is now covered with a heart tattoo and our daughter's names are in the heart. We have talked about this event in our lives, but my good guy is not sure it was a bigfoot. He really doesn't have an explanation for what happened, but I think I do. My name is Elle, and I live out in the country, about

ten miles from Atlanta, Texas, Northeast Texas. I live in a wooded area, but my little house is just off of a farm to mark road. Not much traffic, not many people, not much of anything but trees. My husband's family has had the land here since before the Civil War. When the time came, he and I moved here from the Texas Coast, planning to live here until well the end. When we first moved up here, my husband was still chasing turnarounds in the refineries. I'd often be alone for

weeks at a time. It was during one of those times that I began to feel as though I was being watched. At first, it scared me, so I'd get my three fifty seven and march outside as bravely as I could and pop off a few rounds in the air. I'd go back in the house relieved, but never quite sure I'd scared whatever it was away. The strange feeling of being watched changed after a while. I began to feel more like I was being observed. I could feel that something was out there in the dark. Dogs knew

it too. One night, I was sitting on the couch watching TV. My hubby was up north on another turnaround, and it was just me and the dogs. Suddenly there was a sound coming from the woods to the right of the house. This time the dog started barking. I muted the TV, grabbed my gun, and ran to the door. I cracked it just a bit. The sound was incredibly loud, and it sounded like a scream on top of a roar, if that makes sense. It went on for at least a minute, and then silence. I slammed the door and

got the dogs settled down. That night, I stayed up sitting on the couch watching the door, my gun in hand. I told my husband about it on the phone the next day. He laughed it off, just like he did when I tell him I thought something in the woods was watching me. My husband died not long after that. I was alone here full time. I frequently felt that I was being observed. It wasn't a constant feeling, but when it came on, it felt like there was a heaviness in the air. I learned to live with it,

and that was that. A few months after my husband passed, my youngest son, Jay and his fiance moved up. His father had asked him to take care of me, and that's what he did. One day, not long after he got here, Jay went out to the back forty to have some time alone, walking around in the woods he used to hunt with his dad. Jay started walking the creek. After a little bit, he came to a place in the creek bottom and stopped dead in his tracks. He told me something was there, but he didn't know what

it was. He was so overcome by fear that he ran as fast as he could back to his truck and got the hell out of there. He's been here two years and has never gone back to that spot. Fast forward about two months. It was a beautiful black nw night. I went outside to soak up the peace that permeates the air here. It just engulfs you. I love that about this place. But suddenly, as I stood there, I heard that scream coming from the same place I'd

heard it two years before. It wasn't as loud. It didn't even wake my son in his fiance, but it was the same. I ran back inside and locked the doors. Two weeks passed. It was just after sunset, the kids were gone, and I was getting something out of my car. I hadn't been out there for more than a minute when I heard the first scream. It had come from the same place as before. I got my stuff out of the car and headed to the house. When I heard another scream coming from the woods behind the house,

I froze. A few seconds later, another scream came from the first place I waited, but I didn't hear anything else. A week or two later, my brother came up to go hunting. The first morning he was there, he geared up and headed to the back forty. He came back a few hours later. He looked disturbed. He asked Jay what the deal was with the creek bottom. He said

he could feel something there. Jay asked him where he was specifically, and my brother told him it was the same place Jay was when he took off running in Terror two years ago. My brother is a survivalist and a very experienced hunter who has spent half his life in the woods. He said he'd never felt that presence or that kind of fear ever before, and she writes, I'm sorry for rambling on. You're not rambling on, ill.

This is great. I know none of us have seen anything, but I am certain the Big Man is living here. I've told a couple of people about the screams and feeling something watching me and about the creek, and they just laugh. But I bet that if they heard some of the screams and felt some of the presents, it would wipe the smirks right off their faces. I love it when somebody says, you ought to hear what I hear. That was really good. And I assume you're still out there.

Ell girl, be safe, stay alert. I'm sure you're fine, and I hope Jay and his girlfriend are still there with you and enjoy those peaceful nights. You're gonna be okay. I'm just almost sure of it. And I just love you for sending this in. Thank you