A few years ago, my wife and I were invited to a dinner by old friends. The family are Lds and have the tradition of inviting local Mormon elders to their home on Tuesday nights for dinner. It is a special treat for these young men who have chosen to leave home for two years to spread their faith. Upon arriving, we were introduced to the two young elders. The surprise for me was that one elder Lux was from Springhill, Louisiana,
which is just ninety miles from my hometown of Monroe. We had a genuinely nice hour or so of visiting and talking about home. We had much in common, even though he was in his early twenties and I was in my early seventies. I asked Elder Luck if he was born in spring Hill and was very surprised to find that he was originally from falc, Arkansas, which
was forty one miles away. Of course, this immediately prompted me to ask if he had ever seen the Foult Monster, which was featured in the seventies movie The Legend of Boggy Creek and other books and newspaper articles over the last many decades. Elder Lux replied that he had not seen the creature, but
that his father had on two occasions years apart. As a very young boy, he and his family, who lived alongside Boggy Creek, had on a few occasions experienced some strange and frightening moments, which they attributed to the creature. As our conversation was getting into more detail, Elder Lux and his partner had to leave because they had another engagement for church business that night. We reluctantly set our goodbyes. Our friend and host promised to have them over again.
As the elders left, I was wired and in full investigation and interrogateation mode. I had been aware of this creature for many years, and my thirty plus years as a police officer had me compiling a list of questions so I could obtain more details at our next visit. That visit came a couple of weeks later, when Elder Lux and his partner revisited our friend's home to do some genealogy work with the help of his wife, she runs the local
LDS Family Research Center. As she helped Elder Lux's partner, he and I sat down and I got to ask more questions about this time in Foulk. This is the story of the first encounter of Elder Lux's father, William Bill Lux Junior, and a little information about the area they lived in in their homes unique location. This description will help with understanding the story of the second
encounter of the creature and finally, the family's experiences. Elder Luxe's grandfather, Bill moved to Falc in the mid nineteen thirties and bought twenty acres of land about three miles south of Falk on Arkansas Highway seventy one. This was the main north south route from Louisiana to Arkansas. The property was heavily wooded, as was most of the land around Falc at the time. This thick forest area was interspersed with fields of beans, cotton, corn, and other crops
grown in that fertile area. The Lux property was fronted by Highway seventy one on the west side. The northeast and south sides were heavily wooded. Boggy Creek ran through the Lux's property east to west. It flowed under the Highway seventy one bridge, which spanned the creek and continued west to the Sulfur River. Mister Lux built his home about three hundred feet north of the creek and
two hundred feet from the highway. It is not known if mister Lux was aware of the creek's connection to the fabled creature who used it to traverse the country. It was nineteen fifty nine and mister Lux Junior was eighteen years old and home on Thanksgiving vacation from his local high school. That day in late November, it was the day after Thanksgiving, in the first day of deer season. Bill was hoping to get a little hunting in that day, but
his father had other plans. Projects around the farm kept him busy until almost noon. When he finished, he made a sandwich and stuffed it into his pocket of his hunting coat. He grabbed the World War II surplus M one garand rifle he bought from Sears and Robot for twelve dollars and placed two eight round M one charger clips into his hunting coat pockets and grabbed a small thermos
of coffee and then threw it all into his old Ford truck. The three family dogs had seen this scenario before and were looking forward to the hunt the first of the season, but Bill could not take them on this day. He was already getting a late start, and dark came early in the late fall, especially in the thick woods, this would be a still hunt. It was chilly as he drove towards his destination, an old pipeline cut that ran north south through heavy woods about ten miles east of Bill's home. Most
of the leaves had been blown from the trees by the cold winds. The grass was brown but still high on the pipeline. Bill had first seen the cut one summer when fishing from the highway bridge that crossed it. He had noticed that several deer crossed it during the hours while he fished. He had made a note to give it a try come deer season. It was about half past one pm when Bill reached the cut. He crossed the bridge and
parked his truck off the highway. He took out his rifle, grabbed his thermos, stuck it in his hunting coat pocket, and crossed the road to the north side of the bridge and looked over the cut. It was much lower than it looked from the bridge. It was about three hundred feet wide and miles long, disappearing into the distance. He understood why the oil companies
used small airplanes to inspect the cut and check for leaks. Once on the flat ground of the cut, he loaded his rifle with eight cartridges and began walking north away from the highway. The stiff, knee high weeds and grass made quite a bit of noise as it rubbed against his thick canvas hunting trousers. He moved to the south side of the cut, nearer the tree line,
looking for a good place to hold up and do his hunt. About a half mile from the road, he found a place where he could see easily in both directions, and if necessary, safely fire back towards the highway. Bill could see well from his vantage point, about ten feet into the brush off the side of the pipeline. It was quiet. A wind high in the trees was rustling the leaves that had not yet fallen. An hour passed, nothing moved except an occasional car on the highway half a mile away.
He ate some of his sandwich and drank a little coffee to warm him up. He noticed the shadows of the trees above him were getting longer as they moved over and away from his side of the cut. It was now near three point thirty pm. He had been there two hours. He thought, I cannot wait much longer. It was getting cold, and he didn't want to be getting home at dark. There would be evening chores to do and supper. He would wait another half hour and then he would leave.
Something moved on the other side of the cut, which was still in the late afternoon sun. Bill didn't move. He estimated he was about two hundred yards away to the south of what attracted his attention. Now it moved again, he could see it. It was a deer. It was a dough. She trotted out of the woods and then turned her head and looked back as if she was waiting, and in a moment another dough joined her in the cut. They moved cautiously further into the open, constantly checking behind them.
Then like a shot, both turned and sprang into full run and into the woods on Bill's side of the pipeline. They were trying to get away from something, possibly a buck. Bill thought mating season for white tail deer as October through December in the south. Bill waited and thought, oh, let it be a big buck. Shortly he saw more movement where the deer had come from. Whatever it was. It did not come out completely into view, but enough for Bill to see that it was darker and not the
color of a deer. A few seconds later, it walked out into the edge of the sunlit trees, and it was not a deer. It was upright like a man. It was dark brown from head to toe. Its arms were longer than a man's, and it was tall. Its knees were much higher the grass, which came to Bill's lower thighs, and it was not overly heavy. It looked up and down the cut slowly, like one would do before crossing a street, and Bill froze. And then it started
at a fast walk and crossed the cut in a noticeably short time. It was going the same direction that the deer had gone. Bill stood there for some time, and he thought, what was that? At no time did he ever think about shooting at it? And then he thought where did it go? Did it continue through the woods after the deer, or did it turn north away from me or south towards me. Suddenly the cold did not bother him. Bill listened as hard as he could, but he couldn't hear
anything. It was big and fast, surely if it were coming his way, he would hear the rustling of the dry leaves all around him. He decided he needed to get out of there. It was getting on close to dark and he did want to be there. Then Bill decided to head back towards the road, but walked at the edge of the trees, thinking maybe there could be another one across the cut and it would see me if I
were in the open. But the going was slow and noisy through the edge of the woods, so he decided to move into the center of the cut. At least he would have some warning if it came out, maybe have a bit of time to defend himself. Bill moved to the center of the cut and he started walking fast, continually turning his head like it was on a swivel rifle at the ready, safety off, and around. Chambered all the way back to the truck. His heart was pounding, he was sweating
from fear and exertion despite the cold air. Once he made it to the road, Bill turned back, using his higher vantage point to see if he was being followed, but he saw nothing. He walked to the truck, threw his loaded rifle into the cab, something he never did, and then he drove home. When Bill got home, he unloaded the rifle, checked with his dad to let him know that he was back, and started on his evening chores. He said nothing to his family about what he had seen
at supper. When asked if he had seen any deer at the cut and if he thought it might be a good place to hunt, he only said that he had seen too dough and he didn't think he would be hunting there again. According to Elder Lux, his father did not talk about his sighting until several years later, when he overheard others at the Foult General's store talking about and increased sightings of the creature. When he did talk about the incident,
it was only to his family. In nineteen sixty five, Bill saw the creature again. This time it was closer to home, and this time he was not alone. Six years had passed since Bill Lux Junior had his sighting on the Pipeline Cut. He had not gone back there since that time, and a lot had changed. His father had passed away, leaving Bill to support his mother and two sisters and run the farm alone. Bill took a part time job and fout to make ends meet, and Bill also got
married. He along with his new wife and younger sister, lived in a house that his grandfather built next to Highway seventy one and alongside Boggy Creek. Bill's oldest sister had married a few months earlier and moved to spring Hill, Louisiana with her husband. Bill's mother spent most of her time in spring Hill, which is forty miles away. Locally, there was more talk of sightings of the creature and of footprints left in beenfields, as well as strange cries
back in the deep woods and along the network of creeks around Fout. There were also reports of damaged fences and buildings, as well as missing farm animals. On Saturday afternoon in January of nineteen sixty five, Bill was working on his old truck, which was parked in the front yard just a few feet from his front door. His youngest sister and his wife were in the house. Bill had his head under the hood of the old vehicle, trying to
discern its latest malady. It wasn't until his little feist dog had gotten between his feet that he noticed its shaking and whimpering. Bill looked around and he saw nothing, thinking it was frightened by another dog, a skunk, a raccoon, or any matter of critter that passes through the farm at times, but he still didn't see anything. Bill returned to his work, but the dog continued to whine. Bill looked under the truck and he saw nothing.
He walked around the truck and saw nothing. He then noticed the dog was staring off across the road, which was about two hundred feet from the front of the house. Bill looked carefully at the tree line just on the other side of the pavement. There, next to a large oak tree and somewhat in the shadows, was something stooping down watching Bill and the dog. He could tell it was large because of the size of the tree it was near.
Bill tried not to give away the fact that he had seen it, and he scolded the dog and moved back to the front of the truck where he could look through the lower windshield and rear window to the woods on the other side of the road. It was still there, this time, it appeared to be sitting and watching. Bill called out quietly to his wife and his sister, asking one of them to bring him his rifle, which he kept beside his bed, and to put it just inside the open front door.
Bill explained what was happening, and he told them to carefully look out the window towards the large tree across the road, and they both saw it. Bill picked up the little dog and went into the house and he closed the front door. After a delay only a minute or so, he looked through the blinds of the window. The space next to the tree was empty. Bill picked up his rifle and went from window to window, checking all four sides of the house in case the creature came across the road onto the
property, and he saw nothing. Bill estimated that the creature had been watching him for twenty minutes. The dog had been whining for at least ten minutes before Bill checked on him and saw the shadow next to the tree. This was the last time Bill saw the creature, but not the last time it
would bring fear into their home. Over the next nine years, sightings continued around Falk and reached a peak in nineteen seventy four that got to the point where Bill installed floodlights on the corners of his house that would illuminate the yard for some one hundred feet away. He had the local power company put a light pole in his front yard with a bright light that would burn all night, trimmed down the grass in small trees for two hundred feet around the house.
For Bill and his family, there would be more occasions when they felt afraid. Each started much like the last. Always at night. The three family dogs, which slept outside the house and were known to chase anything on four legs, would begin wailing and barking and bashing into the front screen door, warning to get in. One of the family would open the door and almost get knocked down by the dogs, who would go behind the couch or under a bed. The door would be locked, blinds would be drawn if
they weren't already, and all four spotlights would be turned on. Bill and one of his sons would pick up their weapons and go from window to window while the rest of the family sat quietly in the center of the dimly lit house. The progress of what was moving around outside could be tracked by watching the dogs. Their noses always pointed towards boggy creek had slowly turned, following what they were hearing and smelling. Once it was gone, they quit shivering
and they came out from their hiding places. In the year two thousand, Bill and the family decided that they had had enough of farming and of the small town, uneasy life of Falk. They followed Bill's sister and moved to spring Hill. They joined the LDS Church there and later the elder would be born. Sightings around Falk continued into the nineties, and on occasion they happened still today. The old farmhouse Bill's grandfather built is no longer there. It's
been replaced by a single wide trailer far back away from the road. The fields are there too, but most of the timber around the old Lux farm is now cut and the field grows rows of soybeans. Old Highway seventy one still there, although the new highway has been built to speed along those folks going from Louisiana to Arkansas. And the creek Boggy Creek is still there just as it has been for centuries, and the creature will. Some of those who still live around Fout say he's still out there too.