When I was six years old, I was lying in bed and I was unable to go to sleep. I lay there for probably an hour, though it felt like forever. My window was at the foot of my bed, and it was close enough for me to crawl to and look out, which I often did. That night, when I looked out, I saw something that scared the living crud out of me. At first, everything was fine until something stepped in the way and bent down and looked at me.
The window was six feet off the ground, yet here was this creature so big that it had to crouch over to look at me. Well, I crawled as fast as my little legs would go. I threw the pillow over my face, and I hid under my blanket. Then, when I was fourteen, I was in the woods, playing around like i'd a thousand times before. I knew that place better than the back of my hand. I was down on a sandbar playing Tarzan. When up on the bank,
I heard a branch snap. My head whipped in the direction of the sound, but I didn't see anything, and I decided to climb up and get a better look at it. When I got to the top of the bank, I heard a crash, like a locomotive plowing through the brush. I still didn't see anything, but a knot in the pit of my stomach told me it was another one of those things that was looking through my window and it was time for me to get out of there. I'm nineteen years old now and I still go through
those woods looking for signs of them. Every single time I go, I hear something pacing me. I can't see them, but I know they're out there watching me. Years ago, I used to be a milkman and I worked from twelve am to seven am. One night. While at the dairy depot, two cops dropped by to buy some chocolate milk. We were chatting when a scream echoed through the air, making my hair stand up on end and making all
the dogs nearby start barking and howling. I asked the cops if they were going to have a look, but they shook their heads and they told me I was nuts. I ended up going out by myself to check it out, but I didn't see anything. Weeks later, I was driving the main road back to the dairy to load up again when I saw a purple pulsing light keeping tag with me I pulled over to watch it, and I
saw it descend to the ground and stop pulsing. I got out of the car and stared at it for a few minutes, waiting for it to move, and that's when I heard the sound of cattle running and mooing. Not long after that, I heard heavy footsteps by this thing. Stra I knew it was big. I did the heroic thing and went back into my truck and left as fast as I could. I didn't get an explanation for the purple light, and I wasn't going to stick around
to find out what it was. When I was a child, I remember being shaken awake by a thick, hairy hand at night. It even happened to me as an adult when I was camping with friends, though I never told them, knowing they think I was crazy. When I grabbed the hand, it would pull away and disappear. It shook me up pretty bad, as you can imagine. My son in law was living with us until he and my daughter could get a house. One morning he told us that something
big and harry had grabbed him during the night. I could tell he was rattled, and after telling him of my experiences and that nothing ever happens. He began to relax. That was about eighteen years ago, and since then all has been quiet. Other times I see a tall black figures standing at the end of the dairy driveway a few times. To my horror, it even whispered my name. One night, I was training a guy to do the
delivery run since I was going away on holiday. It was three in the morning and we were delivering to a coffee shop. While we were unloading the truck, we heard my name whispered. We both looked up and on the corner was the black figure again. It was eight feet tall, just standing there. The guy I was training asked what the heck that was. I tried to stay calm, telling him not to worry. It happens a lot to me. Needless to say, he quit that night. That's kind of funny.
I had many other strange experiences working at night as a milkman. Though I'm retired now. My wife and kids know all about the things that I've encountered, though we don't talk about it anymore. My seven year old son and I love listening to your stories while we sit and draw together. We're both big fans of cryptids. And he wanted me to share the story with you. It's a story without an answer, and it makes a great
campfire tale for my nieces and nephews. In the summer of nineteen ninety nine, my someday to be husband and I both got jobs cleaning up campgrounds in Central Oregon. We had bought a trailer and were excited to pull it out into the woods and spend the summer living on the Forest Service land. We had both just finished college and living in the middle of the woods felt
like a dream come true. We found a great spot that had previously been used by other campers, complete with the decent road, a nice flat area for the trailer, and a pretty little stream that ran right next to the camp. Both of us had grown up in Oregon's outdoors and we felt comfortable being in the woods. With that said, we both had an uncomfortable feeling in this place. In fact, we had a conversation about it the very first night we were there. I always felt a general
unease at this spot. It was almost like I was being watched. Central Oregon is not the typical ecology for the western part of the state. It's an arid high desert with sparsely growing ponderosa pines and sage brush growing in clumps, so visibility is pretty good, and therefore that sensation of being watched seemed strange to me. The night of the incident, we sat at the table in the camper eating our dinner when we heard something hit the
side of the trailer. It startled us and our cat. Somehow, the catch reaction gave us confirmation that we weren't just hearing things. A bump on the side of the trailer might not sound like much, but the location of our trailer was in an empty space with no surrounding trees closer than twenty feet for something to make. That noise spooked us a little, and wild animals tend not to run into people's trailers, especially when the trailer is sticking
out in the open, like it was. We went about our business the rest of that evening, not giving it another thought. My cat, who lived in the trailer lived there exclusively. She embodied the definition of a scaredy cat and had never shown any desire to leave the trailer, and that is why I was shocked when I opened the door to go outside to retrieve something, and she shot out of the trailer into the darkness. What was she doing? She hated to be outside. We grabbed a
flashlight and headed outside to find her. But when we stepped out, we were immediately hit with frigid air. We can have cold nights in this climate, but this was unusually icy for a summer night. We wandered out into the darkness and noticed a low hanging fog creeping along the ground, just like a horror movie. I've never seen a fog like that before or since this incident. And then we were overcome by a stench of human theces It's an unmistakable smell, and we both were seriously disturbed.
We didn't use the trailer's toilet for number two's we were young and too dumb to know how to empty the poop tank. We always used the bathroom at work, or we'd dig a hole in the woods far away from the trailer if necessary. Well, the smell put us over the top, and I remember thinking, good luck, caat your on your own. We opened a small panel on the outside of the trailer that would allow her entrance back inside. I was a little concerned that she might get eaten by an owl or a coyote, but I
wasn't going back out there to look for her. Well, we settled into bed and we were curled up and slowly drifting off, and there was a huge stud on the roof. It hit so hard and it rocked the trailer back and forth. We froze. We held on to each other tightly, and we weren't able to speak, and then a dragging sound made its way from above us
all the way up the length of the trailer. Within seconds, there was another large stud over us, again shaking the trailer, and the same loud, dragging noise up the entire length of the trailer. We were paralyzed, waiting for what would happen next. The noise stopped and everything went quiet, and after a while we were able to speak again and whispering to one another what the heck that was and
what we should do. My husband suggested going out with a flashlight and checking it out, but we decided not to, and to this day I'm really grateful we didn't do that. We lay there trying to unravel what had just happened and what it could have been. We went through the list of wild animals in the area, and nothing seemed to make sense. The trailer was too far away from any tree to allow an animal to jump across to it, and the dragging sound was not like anything we'd ever heard.
I grew up in a house with lots of critters on the roof, and they all make the sound a footstep, skurring, not dragging sounds. We thought it might be an owl, but there was no sounds of footsteps or talons on the metal roof. And although some owls can be big, this was much heavier and much bigger. It was big enough to shake the trailer. Eventually, we were able to fall asleep, and the cat did return in one piece. As soon as we woke up, we went to inspect
the area around the trailer. Nothing was out of place, and there was not a single animal track in the powdery dust. We pulled out of that spot within two days and we moved into a trailer part. I've never had another experience like that, and I've continued to enjoy the woods to this day, but it still gives me goosebumps to think about that night. Thanks for all the good listening, and the writer signs off, Oh, that was
a great story. That's a You never saw her, You never saw anything you don't know what it was, but you know something's out there. It's just like that. It's not even a gut instinct. You heard it, You felt it, You felt whatever it was rocking the trailer, and you know there's nothing out there that would do that. There's no animal that would do that unless it was a person. It could have been a person just messing with you. But why would anybody do that? And doesn't make any
sense anyway. It's a great story. I really appreciate it. When I first became a deputy, I spent a month riding with a field training officer before I was finally allowed to patrol alone. It was a New Year's Day, nineteen eighty. I had only been with the department for a couple of months, but since most calls happened on New Year's Eve, they let me go solo that night, knowing it would be a quiet The day started off peacefully enough. There had only been one call all morning
about a dog running loose. It wasn't until later that things got interesting. It all began with a call from the County Emergency Operations Center alerting me about an emergency situation two children possibly breaking through the ice in Morgan Creek south of Jacksonburg Road bridge. I turned on my light bar and headed straight to the bridge, where I saw a woman frantically waving her arms. She told me her children had gone for a walk along the creek
hours earlier and never returned. She had tracked their footprints in the snow along the creek to a spot where they stepped onto the ice, where a large hole revealed the freezing water beneath. I followed her to the water's edge, where two sets of child sized footprints led right to the break in the ice, clearly visible in the snow. Back up was already on its way. I called the nearest volunteer fire department and a water rescue team with my radio. I tried to calm her down, but it
didn't help. She was nearly hysterical when we heard the distant well of sirens. The fire department sent a diver under the ice, and he located the two children. They had both drowned, a girl and a boy, age eleven and nine years later in two thousand, on a snowy New Year's night, I was home listening to dispatch over my radio. A call came in requesting any unit near the Jacksonburg Road bridge south of Morgan Creek. Another officer
responded quickly and dispatch briefed him. Two children had been seen walking south along the road and they were both wet. When the caller stopped to ask if they were okay, they kept walking and they didn't acknowledge her. The caller was frightened and she stopped at a nearby gas station and she called it in. She was worried about the kids. The deputy told dispatch he was en route, and about fifteen minutes later I heard him on the radio again.
Negative contact on the children. He told the dispatch. I saw footprints in the snow walking south, but they disappeared about a quarter mile south of the bridge at the old vacant farmhouse. Maybe they were picked up by somebody. I will continue to patrol the area. I knew this farmhouse well. It used to belong to the family whose children drowned twenty years earlier. After that tragedy, the parents moved away and it hadn't been bought or lived in since.
The deputy and the dispatcher were both relatively new hires and likely unaware of the drownings. I firmly believed that the caller had seen the ghosts of those children who died that day twenty years earlier. The fact that the footprints vanished at the old house is pretty hard to explain. Today, the farmhouse is gone, it was torn down, and a new bridge has replaced the old one. Other than that, the area remains the same. It's beautiful, but it's burdened.
Was that a creepy That's a creepy story, and it's a sad I wasn't gonna talk between these stories. I know some people want me to talk. I don't know why. But the reason I don't talk is because I really don't have much to say. I just love reading these and recording them and putting on them out for you guys to hear. But I'll talk about this one. This is so sad. Can you imagine, oh, oh, the morning and the sorrow and the memory of their both children
drowning in an icy creek. I just cannot imagine. I cannot imagine, you know. And when we hear stories like this, you know what, the first thing we all think is we silently and the recesses of our minds try to give comfort to people like that. But the first thing we think is man, I'm so glad that didn't happen to me. And you go home and you hug your children and you look at them and you stroke their hair, and you think, I'm so glad. I'm not dealing with that.
I think that's a natural I know that's what. That's what. The first thing. I'm always self assessing myself. I'm always thinking about who I am, I am, my character, you know? Am I a good person? Am I doing people right? Have I made the right choices. I'm always self assessing and I always feel a little bit guilty for that.
But I can't be dishonest with you and not say every time I hear about something like that, just read this story, I'm thinking, oh my god, I'm glad that didn't happen to me or anybody in my family or any of my kids families. You know. It's just I don't know why I'm harping on it. It's just the story just struck me as so sad because I have children,
and you know how that is. Anyway, that's a sad story, but it is a very intriguing story that this woman ran up on these kids walking wet down a road on a winter night, twenty years after two children had drowned in that Greek very odd, very very good story from the writer