I'm born and raised in Upstate New York and have been hiking since I was four years old. Beyond hiking, I'm an avid kayaker, fisher, and hunter. I tell you this to set the tone that I'm familiar with outdoors and have encountered everything from black bears to white tailed deer from a very young age. I've never had any fear of the forest, and when I was an awkward teenager, I sought refuge in the dense forest surrounding my home in
Richmond Hills of New York. Some of you may know the area by its notable ski resort, Bristol Mountain. This story, however, takes place in the Blue Ridge Mountains, just outside of Asheville, North Carolina. I apologize in advance because this will be a long one. In order to convey the necessary details, I was about twenty five years old at the time. I'm now thirty one, but I remember it like it was yesterday. At the time, I was in a very strained living situation with my ex boyfriend John.
It is important for the sake of this story that you understand that he was a simply terrible person. He was quick to anger, verbally abusive, and just overall a miserable, wretched human being. In a last attempt to find some positivity in this situation, I came up with the idea to take a trip to the mountains. I had never been there before, and I was eager to get away. We packed up my tiny car, an Akira Integra, with supplies and my best friend, Lola, a pure white lab
Husky pit bull mix. My dog was only about six months old at the time and had more energy than the energizer bunny. Lola was not very well behaved yet, and I was still very much committed to her training. Remember this. After a six hour drive from my current residence at the time outside
of Raleigh, North Carolina, we arrived in the lovely ashvill area. The next two days, we spent our time driving up and down the Blue Ridge Parkway, stopping at overlooks, and hiking in search of the many beautiful waterfalls. The Fourth of July holiday had brought crowds of people to the area, and I found myself searching for areas less travel to get away and into the serenity of the mountains. On the third day, things were unraveling quickly with
John and I was severely debating my life choices. I told John I had found a place named Graveyard Falls and I was going whether he liked it or not. Now, for some background information on this area, it is a heavily traveled area because it has a natural water slide for families to enjoy. I decided, crowd or not, I was going to enjoy the experience one
way or the other. John argued with me as usual and finally gave up when I told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't like it, he could get the hell out of my car and find his own way home. I was at my breaking point with him, and I knew my family would help me to get back in a better direction. We pulled into an overflow parking lot at the trailhead for Graveyard Fall. After gathering my things and
getting Lola into her harness, I surveyed the area. The parking lot set above the trail where you could see it steadily sloping down until it comes to a split, and both directions were swallowed by the thick forest. I watched as every person I saw took the path to the right, and I quickly gathered that was the way to the falls. This was confirmed when I saw a family come from that way, wrapped in towels and smiling from ear to
ear. The three of us started down the tree, and a sweet older couple that I would gauge to be in their mid to late sixties to ask if I was familiar with the area. I told them no, and that I was from New York. They told me they were from New York as well, and they wanted to see the falls, but the woman was concerned
that her husband may not be able to handle the terrain. I advised her to check with the park rangers so they could give them advice on the trails that may be easier for them, and she thanked me for the idea, and we wished each other well. John was visibly irritated about me taking too long to speak with the couple and was gesturing me to hurry up. I jogged a few paces to catch up with him in Lola. He growled at me that he wanted to smoke some marijuana before we embarked upon the crowded trail.
Well, I was not opposed to the idea and have been an habitual user of marijuana for many years. I gestured for him to take the trail to the left, and it was surprisingly empty for the of people that were there. We followed the trail for about fifteen to twenty minutes before we came to a point where it looked like another trail was carved out. This trail sloped down about sixty five degrees. For some reason, I was drawn to
this area, and without a word, I started down. I had my dog's leash in my hand at this point and decided that we were far enough away from people to let her off the leash and do some training exercises. John was far behind me, as he was not in as good as shape as I was. Lola and I did a couple of sit in stay commands while we waited for him. Finally, the three of us reached the bottom of this trail. I was elated to find that we were now in a
lush, green meadow with a small crystal clear pond. The scene was picturesque and I felt completely relaxed. Ignoring John's grumbling, he started to roll a blunt or a marijuana cigar as you might call it, played with Lola, tossing her sticks and running barefoot through the water with her. My second pass of the pond. I noticed what I can only describe as a hat sitting on a rock that was half submerged in the water. I walked closer to
it, and it was a dark green hat with feathers attached. My first thought was at look native American. I was no more than two inches from touching it when I heard the lighter click as John hit the blunt. I was at that moment the hair stood up on the back of my neck. John called to me to come and take a hit from the blunt, and I stood rooted in the spot, staring at this hat. Lola returned to
my side and nudged my hand with her nose. This snapped me out of whatever trance I was in, and I immediately felt the need to run like hell. I repressed this feeling, telling myself to calm down that I was being ridiculous. I told John about the hat, and he just said it was probably a hangout spot for locals. I didn't respond and hit the blunt once. As I sat, I realized the forest had gone completely silent. No birds, no squirrels, no occasional holler from fellow tourists. I had
frequently heard upon my descent to the spot that we were sitting. It was just complete eerie silence. This was my first sign and I stood up quickly and I told John something was not right and that I was leaving. He called me names and yelled at me because he wanted to stay. I didn't hesitate. Within a minute, I stuffed my feet back in my shoes. I called Lola, and I started climbing the hill. John was still sitting there smoking when I looked back for one last glance at this gorgeous meadow,
and he swore at me, and he didn't move a muscle. I quickly moved up towards the more difficult part of the climb, and that's when I heard it. Something was following me. As this realization set in, I stumbled over Lola, who was pressed against my leg. Normally she is running around and pushing her boundaries, but she wasn't. Now. She had had her tailpin between her legs and she looked terrified. I clipped the leash onto her and I slowed my pace. I was not going to flee and make
myself look like pray. That was my first thought. My second thought was, maybe it's just some a hole trying to scare me. I started and stopped in a different pattern, and whatever this was mimicked every step I took. I started walking again, at a brisk pace and looking all around me. I couldn't see anything but forrest, and I started trying to piece this together in my mind. First off, this thing was on two feet. There was no doubt in my mind about that. The second, this thing
was big. Not only could I limbs breaking like they were nothing, but I could feel the ground shaking beneath me. It was like when you were near a train track and you feel the earth vibrating as the train passes. To this day, I do not know why I did this, but as I'm cycling through my brain about what this could possibly be, I stopped. I felt Lola tugg at her lead as she tried to pull me ahead, and I tightened my grip and that's when I felt hot breath hit me directly
in the face. I froze and stared into the trees, and they were so thick I couldn't see anything except intertwined branches. I felt that exhale again, and this time I registered the smell. It was an earthy and rotten odor. Like when you leave your worms and direct sunlight on a hot day after a long day of fishing. I didn't throw up, but I'm not sure how. At this point, Lola started to whine. Any sense of
control over my actions was gone. At this point, I grabbed my girl and I ran until I reached the fork in the trail and I heard people again. I'm five foot tall and at that time I weighed about one hundred pounds, soaking wet. My dog was about forty five pounds at that age, almost full grown, and I picked her up like the morning newspaper. Adrenaline is a funny thing. The story does not end there. I reached
the trail, out of breath and shaking like a leaf. I put my dog on the ground as I finally felt the true toll of her weight hit me. At this point, I was looking like a crazy person, spinning around and looking everywhere for whatever this thing was, Was it still after me? And most importantly, what the hell was it? At this point I heard a familiar voice, and it was the older couple. The woman saw me and asked me if I was okay. She was clearly concerned for me.
It took me a few moments to catch my breath and attempt to speak. I told her something had chased me and we all need to get out of there. Well. She seemed unsure of what to say and stared at me as if to try and figure out what I was telling her. In the most polite tone I could muster, I told her something is out there and it's not safe here. I'm leaving immediately, and that's when she told
me, dear, you were only gone a couple of minutes. My husband and I turned around after we talked to you to go speak with the rangers at the visitor center. My expression must have given me away, because she said, are you sure you're okay? You don't look very good. I stuttered, yeah, I'm okay, and I assured her I was parking the lot above and that I was going to rest in my car. We said goodbye again, and I continued towards the lot. It was then that I
realized John was still not behind me. I looked up at the sky as my feet touched the gravel, and I watched a massive storm cloud roll over to the top of me. My heart sank as I pondered his fate. I didn't like the guy, but I didn't want to be responsible for whatever was going to happen to him. I remembered the moment that I had my hand over my key and I heard someone sprinting up behind me. It was John. He looked white as a ghost and did not say a single word.
He just pointed to the car. I nodded my head, and a rush of relief hit me as I opened the doors of the car and moved the seat to put Lola in. The minute I closed my driver's side door, it began to pour A true mountain thunderstorm raged, and I didn't even bother to try and drive away. We just sat there in silence, and we never spoke of any of this ever again. And that's the end of the story. That's man, That's like, that is so freaky. It's
like a Twilight Zone type of She smelled the breath. It's like it's like this thing was right in front of her, breathing on her. She could smell the breath, she could feel it, the heat from the lungs. But at the end of her email, she has several bullet points here, and I'm going to read those to you because I think these are interesting to the topic. She says, I don't have to read them. It doesn't
matter to her, but I'm gonna go ahead and read them. She Bullet point one, the trail I took was, without a doubt, about a quarter mile from where I saw that man and woman. There's no way I was only gone a few minutes. I walked to the trailhead, plus down the hill and hung out for a bit at the pond. The couple was close enough to the parking lot that you could see where the overhang was to the parking lot. They should have been long gone, even with mobility issues.
Where did that time go? Here's bullet point two. John could not have been the one following me. He could not have made the ground move had that kind of lung capacity, and the timing and how fast he was running made no sense. Number three, My dog has never done anything like that. I still hike with her weekly, and to this day, I've never seen her do any of this. Not to mention, if it was John, she would not be afraid. Number four. I've heard a sizeable
deer snort, and this breathing made that seem like a kitten yawning. Number five, what happened to the person with that hat, how old was it really? Number six? Most of all, there are no creatures in the woods that exhibit this behavior. I'm a small girl with a smaller to medium sized dog. If it wanted us, we were baking in eggs for this thing. Animals do not pace you out. That was six. Number seven. I was never thinking bigfoot because honestly, it never crossed my mind.
In fact, I used to tell my dad he was nuts because he believed the Patterson Gimlin film was It's real. I've lost count here. I think this is eight. The storm that rolled in so quickly reminded me of missing for one one and the last note is which I think is ten. Obviously I can't count. Lastly, I just want to say I never saw it, and I'll never claim to, but it started me on a mission to find out what it was, and between you Cam and Wes at Sisquatch Chronicles,
I have found my answer. Whatever methods are being employed against these victims, one thing is becoming clear. There seems to be an intelligence behind it. As David Pilate's has stated, whatever is happening here has one hundred percent success rate, implying that there are no substantiated reports of anyone successfully repelling or
escaping the phenomena once it begins. Of course, if this were just a random natural phenomenon occurring in nature as of the environment by forces we've yet to understand or prove through science, then it would happen seemingly everywhere and with plenty of eye witnesses. But that just doesn't seem to be the case, especially when the victim reappears inside of a metal water tank with no apparent way for a human to gain access to its interior, indicating an attempt to, as
the mafia would say, get rid of the body. I am, of course, referring to the Elisa Lamb case. How this was done is unknown, but might be explained as having been phased through the metal or teleported into the interior. Either way, it smacks of something right out of Star Trek, the use of technology to manipulate the environment to better succeed in its effort to complete its task. Okay, I'm gonna stop right here, and I'm gonna for those of you who don't aren't familiar with the Elisa Lamb case,
I'm not sure. Okay, it says right here, I'm just going to read this little clip that I clipped off the internet, so just to get you familiar with the Elisa Lamb case, because it's real interesting. Matter of fact, there's a documentary either on Netflix or HBO where I saw this, but it's fascinating, and it happened in the Cecil Hotel in Los Angeles, which has reportedly got a bunch of weird stuff goes on there, but Alisa
Lamb. To this day, nobody knows exactly how Lisa Lamb died. We know that the twenty one year old Canadian college student was last seen at the Cecil Hotel in Los Angeles on January thirty first, twenty thirteen, but the infamously chilling hotel surveillance video that captured the bizarre final moments before her disappearance, let alone the other details that have emerged since, have only elicited more questions
and answers. Ever since her body was discovered in the hotel Tells water tank on February of the nineteenth, her tragic demise has remained shrouded in mystery. And this article is very long. I actually copy the whole thing and it's anyway, just google Elisa lamb Elsa Lam, I think you'd be pretty interested. If you're into the true crime mysterious disappearances thing, you might be interested
in that. But back to this man's email. One piece of evidence to support the idea of intelligent design being that it appears to be very selective and it's timing when people go missing, such as when they are in a group or waiting for one victim to get too far ahead or too far behind. Is the deciding factor being the person who disappears is momentarily out of view of the others. Another is when bodies are found in an area that's been searched
multiple times. It can't be determined if the culprit is aware of the search efforts and returns the victim to the spot of insert whatever term you like, simply because it had departed the scene temporarily and then later returns to the scene to drop the body off, or conversely, it was there the entire time, observing the search and waiting until there's an opportunity to do so. Why
this is done is a mystery. Is it an act of compassion to grant closure for the rest of us, or simply a tactic to discourage or eliminate any further investigation into the disappearance. The body is found and the search ends, and we go on about our normal lives, none the wiser, or perhaps more sinisterly sinisterly, is this action a way of giving us a big, fat mental finger by stating that it can do whatever it wants and there
isn't a damn thing we can do about it. Further still, it might suggest a complete and utter disregard for human beings, in that, for whatever reason a human is needed or wanted, people are taken and then simply dumped where and whenever the task is completed. Like labrats, we are used for some purpose, and if when that proves to be fatal, like refuse, the body is simply discarded. Either way, the latter two are very disconcerting. Surely, the agency behind this appears to go out of its way to
employ stealth and remain undiscovered. So why are clues often left for us to investigate? Clues such as the bodies themselves, are clothing that is neatly folded and left behind, but without any evidence of trauma or violence. If it
truly wants to remain hidden, then why leave any evidence at all? Especially when it seemingly possesses the ability to instantaneously snatch anyone at any time without being witnessed, perhaps the rationale being it doesn't take into consideration our deductive reasoning and our compulsive determination to solve a mystery. But then again, it may see itself as so superior to us that it simply may not care. If we assume it is some form of intelligence perpetrating these events, then we have to
see and call it for what it is, abduction. I say abduction because it is done on a small scale, in that there usually tends to be only one victim at a time, and perpetrated in such a way as to remain deliberately hidden i e. Remote locations, forests, and in the case of urban locations, when the victim is alone and out of view. Both of these factors indicating a thought press involved a psychopathic thought press us. But
this is not what we categorize as typical alien abduction. One might even go a step further and call it being hunted. If people were disappearing in mass and from not so discrete locations such as city streets in broad daylight, then another word would be appropriate, and of course mass panic would ensue for certain, but the compelling nature of the methods behind this mystery mirror our own actions.
While hunting. The hunter enters the forest, he's camouflaged and is quietly positioned in a manner where the hunted, such as the deer, is unaware, with the weapon at the ready until boom. Typically with what we have come to term alien abduction, when a person is taken, they are returned for the most part unharmed, and any memory of the event is nonexistent.
Only through nightmares and or hypnosis, the events may be recalled. People often describe various entities that we as society have come to recognize and categorize as the typical grays, reptilians, mantis, insectoids, and even blonde haired Nordic types. But again, these apparent races tend not to kill and will even communicate with the abductees. Their involvement with us is a topic for another discussion. So on the surface, who or whatever is doing this is something new and
or different. I mean new as in not yet part of the public consciousness and possibly not even alien in nature. In the rare cases where the missing have been found alive, they are unable to give any description as to their whereabouts in any events that occurred during their time missing. This in itself implies
a classic alien abduction. But since they are so rare, while the same time meeting all of the other criteria as laid out by David Pilates to warn inclusion on the Unexplained disappearance list, it is not difficult to exclude the involvement of the aforementioned aliens and to begin formulating alternative ideas as to what is potentially
occurring. At least in cases of alien abduction, people often report positive experiences, such as the impart of knowledge that might better mankind, or warnings of potential planetary crisis and how to cope with or avoid them, cases of technological information being provided and the healing of illnesses. And despite the overwhelming evidence of breeding and genetic experimentation, while itself is unpleasant, it never seems to end
in permanent disappearance and death. Indeed, in these cases, it seems to be in the best interest of them the abductors that the abductees remain healthy and alive for future encounters. Not so with this phenomenon, Apparently, Whitley Striver once said when asked, how do we know if they are good or evil regarding alien encounters. His answer has always stuck with me, and I think he quotes it from the Bible by stating, by their actions you will know
them, simple and direct. But then the truth often is, whatever is happening regarding unexplained disappearances, as investigated by David Pilates, it is something different. It is outside the scope of what we identify as alien abduction. In other words, who or whatever is doing this is clearly malevolent and lacks any good intentions or even simple respect toward us. Like lab animals, we appear to be nothing more than a means to an end. What end can only
be speculated. However, in a strange twist of art imitating life, there is of course the report from a woman bow hunter who was out there in her tree stand late one afternoon and who, according to her description, witnessed a humanoid shape in the woods, moving through the tops of the trees, and though not completely invisible like the predator from the movie of the same name, it was completely see through and only visible because of a distortion causing a
slight displacement effect around the edges of the interloper of the underlying foliage. What adds credibility to this story is that the woman is the wife of doctor Bruce Maccabee, a noted physicist and now UFO researcher and former optical data analysts for the US Navy's Surface Warfare Division. Furthermore, a little research has turned up an interesting fact that the screenwriter of that film, James E. Thomas, based much of the movie on an account taken in Vietnam during the war that
has been declassified through FOIA. A Phoenix team disappeared and was found skinned hanging from trees. The Specops guies they sent for rescue disappeared and were found in the same way. Also incidentally, he grew up in Bakersville, California, which is not at all that far from as the crow flies from the larger
cluster of the Missing four one one disappearances in California. So if we analyze and collate the available facts and evidence is compiled by the Missing four to one one investigations, and we embraced the axiom posted by Sir Arthur Cannon Doyle, when one eliminates all other possibilities, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,