Archive 177 Alien Abduction

little hint for people. If you've already submitted your story to another channel and they've done it, especially if they've done it, or even if they haven't done it, you picked who you wanted to send it to and leave it at that, don't send it to me. That's not really fair. I know people want to get their story heard all over the place, but it's anyway. It kind of annoys me, is what I'm saying, and when I

see that, I delete them. However, this story that I'm about to share with you was actually shared on another channel. It was shared on or narrated on Carrie Arnold's Excuse Me, Carrie Arnold's channel The Shutter. He did a storytelling channel at one time during the COVID shutdown. He didn't have much to do, He wasn't working. He actually called me and he said, I want to do this. I'm like, you should do it. You've got a great voice, and you know you read really well, and you should be

able to do it. Just in honor of Carrie. I wanted to redo this story. It's pretty good. It's a pretty good story. The title of the story is twelve Big Creature. It's written by Daniel McCall and this was posted on Facebook, so I'm assuming he posted it on his Facebook channel under his name, so I don't mind saying his full name because he's taken full credit for this.

He writes. My maternal grandfather, d Calvin Howell was born in Jefferson County, Florida, in eighteen eighty six and grew up in I can't pronounce this town name Willkissa w wasisa Wacissa and the Cody area, hunting, fishing, and roaming the local woods. When as a teenage boy he was old enough to go to work, he began working in logging camps which were all deep in the woods, accessible only by rail that was laid to access in haul out the timber. He was an excellent woodsman. He was

a hunter and he was an expert with firearms. It was generally well known in the area that the men of the Howell family would not back down from a confrontation. Calvin Howell was not a big man, but in that respect he was very much like the rest of his

Howell relatives. He married my grandmother in nineteen twelve and continued working and living in logging camps until nineteen twenty nine, when his employer, Standard Lumber Company went broke as a result of the stock market crash and left him and his family stranded in a logging camp in Lofayette County, Florida. When he managed to get his family out of the logging camp, he became a sharecropper farmer in the area of Mayo, Loafayette County, Florida. In nineteen thirty eight, when

he bought his own farm in Leon County, Florida. He died in nineteen fifty one when I was thirteen years old. A few months after my grandfather died, I came to live with my grandmother and I lived with her until I graduated from high school and joined the Army in nineteen fifty five. When I was growing up, one of the family stories I heard from my mother and grandmother was about an encounter my grandfather had one night during

the years that he was sharecropping in Lofayette County. This was during the Great Depression and the family was struggling to survive. Their only means of transportation was a mule and a wagon or walking. One night, my grandfather was walking home from a place I no longer remember. It was after dark, but it was a clear night, and there was enough light from the moon or the stars for him to be able to see the road for

a little way ahead. He was walking along a dirt road in a wooded area that was sparsely populated with no houses. When he approached an intersection in the dirt road, he saw what appeared to him to be a large man standing erect and silent in the intersection. He couldn't see it well enough to tell if it was a big man or something else. Being a lifelong woodsman and hunter, he was well aware of all the animals that lived

in the area, including the black bear. He was also aware of all the domestic animals, which at that time were allowed to roam free on the open range, and he knew most, if not all, of the men who lived in the area, but he didn't know anyone that large. In the darkness, he could not identify this person or animal or creature or object standing in the intersection. He couldn't pass through the intersection without walking close to the

unidentified manner object in the intersection. Being very apprehensive about approaching an unknown person or animal under those circumstances, he stopped twenty yards short of the intersection and challenged what he thought was probably a large man to identify himself, and he received no response. After challenging the man or the creature several more times and receiving no response, he eventually said something to the effect of you're going to

speak up now, I'm gonna shoot you. After receiving no response once again, he fired two shots from his Smith and Wesson thirty eight special revolver into the center chest area of the object. Considering his expertise with the revolver and the close range, it is not likely that he missed his mark. After he shot the creature, it moved off into the woods in an upright position without making a sound. After a few minutes, my grandfather continued on

his way home. The next morning, He and others, who were all well armed went back to the intersection in the daylight to find the creature, or at least find its tracks and determine what it was. They didn't find the creature, nor did they identify any tracks. No man or animal was ever reported as having been shot or seen at that time in location. Could this have been a bear, maybe, but there are some things that seemed

to indicate that it was not a bear. He was a woodsman, and my grandfather knew what black bears looked like. And also, a black bear will generally run away when approached and verbally challenged by a human. And it's also unlikely that a black bear would walk away on its hind legs after being shot twice in the chest by thirty eight special Normally, in either case, a black bear would run away on all four legs. The creature was

never identified in the mystery was never solved. Recent stories about people's encounters with bigfoot type creatures made me remember the story and wonder if it may be what my grandfather encountered back in the nineteen thirties. I was allowed to begin hunting squirrels with a single shot twenty two when I was ten years old, and I grew to love hunting wood ducks and turkeys and deer, and I

hunted them until twenty fourteen. During the sixty plus years that I hunted in North Florida, I never saw an animal or a track that I could not identify. I did hear an occasional strange noise, but I attributed those to hogs that were always in the areas where I hunted. I had asked many questions and written down the story back when I first heard it, and I was young and thought I would remember everything. And that's the end of the story. And again, this story has been recorded before.

Carrie Arnold did it on his channel, The Shutter. There'll be a link in the description, and I miss Carry Arnold. I did this story kind of in his honor. It's not a big tribute to Carrie. But when I saw at the end that the man had said he sent it to Carrie, and Carrie did it on his channel, it just felt right to do it. This story is true by all that is holy, and I'm not kidding. I would prefer to keep my name out of this, but feel free to use it, not use it, do

whatever you want to do with it. I finished it a couple of hours ago, and I feel like a whole lot of weight is off my shoulders now. It's taken me decades to be able to relate the events here, and I'm still not certain that I'm all that ready. I've told only my wife about the event, and she did not want to deal with it, so I figured

that it was a story that just shouldn't be told. However, my life was forever changed by what happened to me, and others were impacted even more so I'm hoping that putting this story out will help get fully past it. When I was young, I had fears of being taken, assaulted, or abducted. Whatever words you may choose for characterizing a child that had these fears is okay with me. It's the fact that it happened that counts. The image of big eyed pictures of children or owls always freaked me

out and I couldn't deal with them. I'll begin by relating what happened when I was twelve. I lived with my mother and older brother, and we had a really loving, secure home. She worked hard to keep a roof over our heads, and she was worn out and napping after work whenever possible. Soon after this event, she remarried a good guy that paid the bills, so she didn't have to work anymore. My mother was blessed in life, and my stepfather was all of our blessing from God. This

story is prior to that happening. My mother decided to send us away to visit her family out in Illinois for summer vacation so we could get to know them better and vice versa. We were living in a city back in Ohio and hardly knew her family. We stayed for a while with my uncle, who had a small grocery store with a home above it on the second floor. And after we arrived there, my night fares became more intense.

I noticed that he had an old refrigerator case out in the garage that he was going to get rid of. It was still plugged in, and though it wouldn't cool anymore, the fan motor in it was still working. I was an industrious little pest of a kid, and I asked him if I could have the fan motor, and he said, have at it. An hour later, it was in my hands. It had no protective screen around it, and it needed

a plug, all of which didn't bother me. When I returned home, I attached a new plug to the wires and bolted it to the headboard of my metal frame bunk bed, and with an extension cord, it worked fine. The humming helped me sleep, provided I didn't bump into those fan blades. Everyone thought I needed the breeze at night, but my needs were not about more air. What I was hoping was that fan would prevent whatever was bothering me at night from ever returning out of fear that

they would be cut to pieces. That is the way it was for me as a kid, loving the world, curious and scared sometimes. At the age of thirty eight, I had just remarried. I had joint custody of my two children, and I was living with my new wife in a ranch house on the outskirts of the city on a rural wooded light. The house wasn't much, but I liked the location and the acreage and the trees that surrounded the house. It sort of shielded the ground from the light, so we didn't have to cut grass

very much. Plus, because the trees had few low branches, so you could see the other homes one hundred yards or so in every direction around us during that first spring. We seemed to be unnaturally surrounded with wildlife night and day in that house, and it was a little unnerving for a city boy like Meat. If you walked outside at night, there were always deer staring at you or running around scaring you, or even raccoons or birds. Owls

seemed to hang out there too. Especially weird was the big hawk that would land on the branch in front of the living room picture window, causing the branch to drop down just low enough where the hawk could peer into our window, and he did all the time. Many times I'd just sit and we would stare at one another over my morning coffee. One day I found him in another branch looking into the breakfast room window. Seems

like we were just never alone there. I had just gotten married to my second wife, who was twenty seven at the time, and she had moved with me into this place. She was trying to fit in, and things were a little dicey still with her relationship with my ex and kids, but that is the way it is with blended families. One morning, something happened that I'm going to tell you about because it was really strange and inexplicable.

My wife and I had a sleep routine in her habit where she would always wear my pajama top and her own shorts to bed, and I would wear the matching pajama bottoms and a T shirt. She was a fitful sleeper and I was a sound sleeper. In the mornings, her side of the bed was a mess. Blankets were everywhere, but on my I just slip out of and never even had to make the bed, so I never did. So, okay, we were lazy about making the bed. Big deal. Well, this one morning, I woke to light coming in all

the windows as if I'd been sleeping for days. It was ten am, and I had never slept past seven am in my life. Kids weren't with us that night, and the wife started to stir in bed at the same time as I did. I remember looking at her and she looking at me, saying to one another, what

happened last night? We had gone to bed uneventfully very early, and both of us had no recollection of getting up at all, no watching the TV in the room, no bathroom visits all night long, nothing, which was very strange. We laid there in bed feeling like we were sleeping. Something off but we weren't drinkers and hadn't had a thing the day or night before. As I tried to turn over and get out of the bed, I realized I couldn't move very well, and it took me a

few moments to figure out why. It turns out that our blankets and bedspread had been pulled tightly and tucked in all around the sides of the bed, so securely that we had difficulty kicking them loose to get out of the bed. It was as if we had been deliberately secured into our own bed. Furthermore, she had on my T shirt and I had on the pajama top she wore to bed, which I hate wearing, and the

top was buttoned. Who does that. We were both groggy and unable to focus very well and were freaked out about what had just happened. Months later, my memories began to return a little at a time, and I remembered what had happened. She never did. We were taken to a place that I was familiar with, but she was new to and she was in a complete panic, and neither of us could move. That was making me angry, which is why I think I remembered what had happened.

There were other people there, and I used the term people loosely because what I really saw weren't people like you and I. However, I seemed to be familiar with them, and they were with me as if we knew each other. This had happened to me before, but this time it was different. I insisted that they stopped doing what they were doing to us, and they just continued on with their task, as if my words or her fears were unimportant to whatever task they were intent on completing on us.

I remember being emphatic and unrelenting, as I was not concerned about myself but my new wife, and what I perceived was an attack on someone who was innocent. My own personal experience was one of passivity, except for defending her in this heated moment. Then, out of desperation, I remember yelling these words words in the name of Jesus, the Father and the Spirit of God, I demand that

you stop doing this to her immediately. For the first time, they all sort of stopped all at once, and a few of them actually turned their heads towards me, then to one another, and without speaking or using any obvious other form of communication, which I still don't exactly understand. They simply stopped. They seemed stunned or disappointed, or maybe even angry. I remember being carried or floated quickly back to the bed. She was carried to the other side

of the bed. We were both hurriedly tucked in and put to sleep. The memories were never fully completed, just the ability for me to resolve it well enough to move past it. Things were never the same after that morning. It took a couple of months for the reality of what happened that night to reveal itself, but from then on she was not interested in living in that house or even on that side of town. We argued about moving, and then one day a couple of months later, we

found a lump in her breast. The doctor said she needed surgery right away and began to treat her with radiation and chemotherapy. She was determined to move somewhere else and went looking for a place as far away as

she could find. During this time, I was dealing with my own trauma, as I was having one dream after another, one building on top of the memory of the one before, over and over, gradually revealing to me what had happened that one strange night we had somehow as a couple been moved to another location, and I remember seeing her on her back being moved as I was on my back,

both being transported through the air. We were renting this house and I had a lease, and I wasn't interested in moving to the other side of the town because my business, kids and friends, her doctor's everything was nearby and very convenient. Nevertheless, she decided to get out on her own and rented an apartment and moved out. She was scared and legitimately frightened about the possibility of the spread of her cancer. It was beyond my ability to

understand how to help her. Once she moved out, she was resolute, and I understood and accepted her decision. I also got out of that house. A month later, I broke the lease and rented a place nearer to my kids, and I felt safer there. My wife was getting treated and she became more and more emotionally and mentally stressed, and I offered for her to move back in with me, which she accepted. None of the treatments or therapy slowed

her cancer down. I even paid out of my pocket for a bone marrow transplant, and while she was in the hospital, the cancer spread everywhere. Within three months, she was diagnosed as terminal, and she decided to leave the country and move to Europe. She was a sad, loss confused,

frightened woman who just wanted to live. Ultimately, she ended up returning from Europe and we divorced on good terms, and I kept her medical coverage intact and offered for her to move back in with me to continue her treatments. I never discussed that strange night of the year prior ever again, except for her to say that she never

wanted to hear me speak of it again. So I was never able to reveal what I had eventually remembered, and I always wondered what she remembered, if anything, and if those memories possibly contributed to her belief that the events of that previous year with me had caused her cancer, a belief which I heard almost daily without details, which she could not bear to engage in. After a few months, she moved back to her mother home eight hundred miles away, and then to a hospice, and then a year later

she passed away. It has been almost twenty five years since then, and I've since remarried for twenty three of those years now, and these events still affect me on a regular basis. I'm not certain there is any way to resolve things like this unless you talk about them. However, I'm certain that my demand, backed by my statement of faith that night, completely stopped any other event from happening ever again. At one point, though, about five years later,

my twelve year old son had something happen. One day, when I was cleaning his room, which was in the third floor loft looking out over the little acreage of trees, I found a crudely drawn picture of what appeared to

be a bird with huge eyes. When I questioned him about it, he very calmly said that at night, something like a dove was tapping at his window and even waking him too early in the morning, which would have been impossible based upon where his room was situated, and that he drew the picture of this hawk and taped it to the glass looking outwards because he had heard that other birds were afraid of hawks, and he hoped the picture would stop them from bothering him at night.

We moved again after that, and my son has had no more experiences, though truthfully, we don't speak about it. Maybe we should