Bluffing the Monster - Dogman Wrecks Summer Camp

and informational seminars to contend with. Ron, myself and a few young ladies volunteered to prep breakfast the next morning, so we got started at about eleven pm and finished at two am. Afterward, we headed back to our cabins for some sleep in preparation for the next day's busy schedule. Well, we were walking across large field that combined three soccer

and football fields side by side. It was a full moon out and things seemed peaceful, and as we walked across the fields to get back to our cabins, we saw a dog come out of the woods. At least that's what we thought we saw. We were from the city and we thought that we could coax it over to us and pet it. But then it suddenly stood up on two legs, and everything around us got really quiet.

When it stood up, it was far enough away that we could tell that it wasn't a dog, but it wasn't a man either, And whatever it was, it was an off white color and much larger than anyone in the group. All of the here boy left our lips immediately. Whenever we went on these retreats to different wooded locations, I always carried a large pocket knife. We were all totally shocked and afraid at the same time, but someone

had to do something, so I grabbed my knife. This thing took two steps forward, but stopped dead in its tracks, and it just stared at us. I slowly walked forward to see if it was someone playing tricks on us. When it took a step back, I started running toward it, but before I could get much closer, this thing took three steps into the woods and disappeared without a trace. Once we made it back to our cabins, the authorities were notified and we made a report, to which we

heard someone say I'm not surprised. Needless to say, we cut our trip short and left mid afternoon the next day. Thanks for listening to my story. Okay, this was a dog man's story where the guy actually ran at the dog man. Now that's pretty brave. I could not add one thing in commentary to this story other than you are a stud man a stallion running right at a dog man with a pocket knife. That's awesome. What an

awesome little story. There's your dog man's story, folks. When my wife was fourteen years old, her dad took the family to Yellowstone National Park and in a camper, they stayed in the Fishing Bridge campground. Sometime during the night, my wife was awakened by a noise outside. She pushed the curtain back just enough for her to see out the window, and she was surprised to see a large man.

She woke her mother up and told her that a man was looking in the window at her, but her mom told her that she was dreaming and to go back to sleep. She decided to take another peak to convince her mother that something strange was out there, but again her mother told her to go back to sleep. The next day they found dents of a large finger impressions on the top of the camper. In nineteen seventy two, when I came back from Vietnam, I decided to go

to Bible College. We moved to Toko, Georgia and lived in a low income government housing pet to be nearer the school. In the woods behind our house, we would often hear knocks coming from the woods at night. The college had eleven hundred acres. Students were allowed to hunt above the main campus. On the upper campus there was a large lake with an earthen dam. One day, my wife and I were up there scouting for upcoming deer season. We were walking beside the beaver pines when we began

to hear footsteps paralleling hours in the woods. I thought maybe it was a black bear, but I wasn't too worried because I had a thirty thirty rifle with me. But something was unsettling about the sound of it. It didn't sound like a bear. It sounded like a heavy footed human. After the new year, we moved to a different house on the mountain. The owner of the house was a farmer who gave me permission to hunt on

his land, including the forested port. We never ran into bigfoot while we were hunting, but we would hear them in the woods at night from the house. When one of them came close to the house, all the sounds would come to a sudden halt, and then the strange house and other unnatural vocalizations fill the air. My wife and I are in our seventies now and we plan to go camping this summer and we hope to see a Bigfoot or two. We live in Wyoming and are

planning to go to northern California, Oregon, and Washington. Oh Man. I hope you get to see a couple of bigfoots. That would be that would make the trip worthwhile, that would be worth going camping. I think long as they're not too close. We don't want Bigfoot too close to us. We want to see them way over there. That's where we want to see Bigfoot. Thank you to the writer

for sending this story. I thought it was great. On a cloudless spring day in the California Central Valley, I could see the Sierras clearly to the east, one hundred miles away. I had been outside in the backyard from my Saturday morning chore of airing dog poo. Fortunately, our dogs were savvy enough to relieve themselves in generally the same area of our half acre yard. Seven redwoods lined the west side of the fence, and a shallow concrete

pool filled with colorful koi adorn the east side. I began to dig a hole near the tool shed at the south corner without a conscious thought, and I turned my head to the east, as if anticipating something was coming at me. In midair, a gray colored creature stopped abruptly and hovered upright about a shovel's length away, just above my eye level. What the heck, I thought. As we observed each other for five long seconds, it was enough time for me to get a good look at

it close up in bright daylight. I looked first, where most animals have eyes. The flying creature had tiny black eyeballs, if that's what they were. The rest of the eye area were darker shades of gray. I saw no mouth and no nose. The thing had a body like a worm. It was two feet long and one fourth of that wide. It had transparent wings, but they did not reach out like a bird's. Instead, they were adjoined alongside its entire body on both sides, and they moved in waves, very

much like a cuddlefish. As quickly as it appeared, it flew off to the south, and I lost sight of it. When it passed my neighbor's plum tree. It seemed to dissolve into the sky. Now I'm no stranger to paranormal activity, but this was weird even for me. I finished my chore while engraving every detail of that buggish bird in my mind. I told my wife as soon as I entered the house, I just saw something out of a fairytale. Sweetheart.

Of course, she didn't know what to say, although we had been married only a few years by then, she had witnessed several unnerving events in my company. Because of those scares and resolutions involving the dead, she gave me the benefit of the doubt. Two weeks later, I watched an episode of Monster Quest. A news cameraman had captured on film an unexplained flying object at lax on several occasions,

streaking across the sky at low altitude. The UFOs appeared like long, thin, gray forms, traveling so fast that human eyes can only see them on film. Monster Quest named them rods. A news anchorman seconded the recorded sightings videos by other camera personnel and other places around the world showed that humans didn't notice them as unknown animals. Started by that's it, That's what I saw. I was so excited that others had seen them too, even if only

on film. I jumped off the sofa and googled Tom, the cameraman who first videoed these creatures. He had a website just on this subject. Most of his narrative was about how extremely upset he was that Monster Quests primarily attempted to debunk what he had captured on film, so typical of such TV programs when something new is explored. I email my experience to him. In it, I presented a question and he gave me an answer. Why would

it stop and study you? I believe the speedy creature stopped to take note of me because I since it coming. That may not happen often. It's been more than twenty years since I met that rod animal. I would be pleased to encounter it another time anywhere. I live in the East Midlands of England, a rural area about fifteen miles from the nearest city. There are only twenty houses in our village, and close by are the acres of woodland.

I've walked in those woods countless times with friends, and I never found anything unusual other than the occasional tent. A man lives in those woods with his well trained dogs that regularly compete in dog shows. I've never heard them bark once and all the times I visited them. During the COVID epidemic, I decided to take up running. Due to the situation, we were only allowed to exercise outside once a day, and I decided to go for a run in the mornings. It went well for a

few weeks. I improved a lost weight and I enjoyed myself. I would run about a half mile up the road and back. Eventually, I decided to run to a small bridge over a ditch about a mile up the road around there. Every day for a week or so, when I ran, I listened to music to help distract myself from from fatigue and exhaustion. My music was never too loud, just in case a car came down the road. One day, I was approaching the bridge and I kept hearing something

other than my music. So I got to the bridge and I stopped to listen. As I took my earphones out, I heard a loud howl from the woods another mile ahead. I stood there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, and moments later another howl came, but this time it was closer. I searched my brain to think of what could be making that noise. I knew that the man who lived up the road had dogs, but like I said,

they were trained in obedient. Another disturbing howl came, and that was enough for me, and I ran straight back home, and I spent the next days trying to think of what it could have been. I didn't say anything to anyone because I didn't think it was that important, and I came to the conclusion that it must have been those dogs. Well, a few days later, I saw the man outside gardening and I stopped to say hello, and

I asked him whether his dogs howled in the mornings. Well, he looked at me like I was crazy and said they never howled. I asked whether they were kept outside, but he said that he kept them indoors until they went on a walk, usually around nine am. I used to run at seven am, so whatever I heard out there was not his dogs. But I put the house to the back of my mind anyway, and I moved on. Sometime later, I went on a walk with a girlfriend.

Her auntie lived in the village over. To get there, you had to pass the man's house to go through the woods, and I dropped her off and I went back through the woods and I said hello to the man and his dogs, and I made my way home. Between the woods and my house is a private gated lane where pheasant feeders are kept for shooting season. Well, I approached the lane and I heard that same howl, this time from the pheasant feeders. The gate was shut

and there were no vehicles at the entrance. I knew the farmer checked the area regularly to ensure no one could enter the property. So I came to the unsettling conclusion that the creature in the woods had snuck its way in. Well, I picked up my pace and I went home. Whatever that howl was, it scared me enough not to go on my morning runs at all. Thank you for reading this far I don't mind if you use my name. I know this story isn't very interesting,

but I know your viewers won't judge me. Keep up the amazing work and I love listening to your podcast. And the writer's name has Ben is from the East Midlands. Of England. I really appreciate these stories from England and anywhere in Europe. I love hearing from those people. Australia, Europe. You know, does Russia, does the Far East get these podcasts? Is it like excluded? I've always wondered do Russians listen to this stuff? They probably don't understand English, and hell

I don't even speak English very well. But I was just wondering, regarding the international audience, if anybody in Russia or Ukraine or any of those countries in that area of Europe and in Russia. Does China get podcasts? Probably not, I know Japan does. I've heard from people from Japan, Okinawa, Africa. I've heard a few from Africa, a lot from South Africa, north of South Africa, maybe one or two. Nobody from the Middle East, maybe one from Iran. I think Iran

must be able to get some of these. I'm not sure. I don't know how that works. Some countries block Western websites and some countries don't, and people have access to them, and I really don't know what I'm talking about. It just kind of crossed my mind, so I said it. So pay no attention to the village idiot here. I'm just rambling, but it was on my mind anyway. Thank you Ben for the story, and thanks for listening way

over there in England. I appreciate you, buddy. Thanks. I live in Washington and I fished for most of the year. Last week was opening day of fishing on the Green River, just north of my home. The fishing was good. We even hooked a fourteen inch trout on that particular day. I stayed fishing for a while longer in that spot. My dad went down river to another hole not far from me. I was fishing and a softball sized rock flew six feet over my head and landed in the

river in front of me. I looked back up into the thick timber, but I couldn't see anything. I got my dad's attention and I told him what happened. We walked out of there, expecting to see someone on that hill. I thought it was a guy or kid throwing a rock into the river, not knowing we were there, But there was no one up there. I knew something had thrown it because I heard it hitting the treetops before

it hit the water in front of me. Now there's a chance it could have been a person, but I don't know how they could have gotten out of the area that fast without us seeing them. I don't think a kid can throw a softball sized rock very far, and if it were an adult, he'd have to have been a big guy, in which case I would have seen him. This event confuses me to this day. Now I still fish out there, but that experience is in

the back of my mind every time. In the late nineteen nineties, when my mother was in her sixties, a memory returned to her. It was a vision long buried in her mind. She was born in nineteen thirty three, the third of ten children, and she had grown up on a shared plot of land that held both her family's home and her aunt, Doris's house. This was a land filled with memories of daily life and family, a place where even the extraordinary might be given a practical explanation.

But this particular memory, once it returned to fight all ordinary reasoning and challenged even her deeply rooted Christian faith. In nineteen forty four, when she was eleven years old, something startling happened. Her father thought the barn was on fire. When they rushed closer to investigate, they were not met with flames or smoke, but something entirely different. Suspended in midair above the barn was a perfect sphere, a phenomenon that none of them could have expected or explained. The

sphere appeared almost alive. As my mother described it, it was beautiful. It was a liquid like surface, and it shifted with vivid colors, so bright that it should have hurt her eyes, but it didn't. They approached it in silence, unable to see it until they were nearly upon it due to the slope of the land. Once they were

close enough, words seemed to disappear. The only sound came from her mother, who murmured a low, almost reverent tone, always heard if you see something like this, there's going to be a death in the family. They gazed at the sphere in silence and bound together by a shared awe and foreboding, And although the experience was powerful and unsettling, none of them ever spoke about it again. My mother

couldn't remember how they returned to the house afterward. The memory simply faded, hidden somewhere in her mind, as if shielding her from something that lay beyond understanding. Then, on a day in nineteen ninety seven, as she was going about her day, the memory resurfaced, as vivid as the moment had happened, and she found herself asking aloud, where did it go? The vision returned with such force that it felt less like a memory and more like a

glimpse into an unresolved part of her life. She shared it with me, describing the sphere as if she were seeing it again. The liquid colors, the eerie silence, and the brightness all still so real to her. Her devotion to honesty left no room for doubt in my mind, and her telling was so detailed that we even talked about visiting the hypnotist to try to uncover more, but

we never did. Now that my mother has passed, I often think back on her story, and I wonder what she might have discovered if we had pursued it further. I imagine that in some way she finally knows all there is to know about that sphere and the mysteries of that day. Her memory of it remains vivid in my mind, a story that transcends time and serves as a reminder of the mysteries that lie just beyond what we can see. Thank you, Cameron for letting me share this, Keep up

the good work and stay just as you are. God bless you and your family, Tina. God bless you, Tina. Thank you for that memory of your mother. That's really it's really intriguing. And what a don't how do you describe these things. It's like it's just a warm memory of something unusual. I don't know. I'm not even gonna try it. She has her feelings about it, and that's all that counts. What a nice story, What a nice

unusual story. Thanks Tina. All right, here is a set of multiple encounters from Carl and Michelle in Arkansas, and she titles this email our encounter. So I'm just gonna read it. At the end of the email, she says, if you need to edit it, go ahead. Michelle, I didn't have to. I didn't have to change a word in this. She wrote it perfectly, at least perfectly enough for me to read it. So here we go. All right, here we go, Here we go. My name is Michelle

and I'm fifty four years old. My husband, Carl is four six and we're both prior military, and my husband's been in combat on more than one occasion, so he suffers from severe PTSD. We both have our Bachelors of Science degree from UCA and we've been happily married for twenty one years now, so we're not a couple of flakes. I grew up in the foothills of the Ozarks in a town called Shirley, which only has a population of three hundred and thirty six. I occupied myself in the

woods growing up. In fact, when I wasn't in school, that's where I could be found. My father was a rock mason and a woodcarver. Being his only child, I was raised a tomboy. He taught me about plants and animals, and he taught me how to hunt, so I'm very familiar with the woods here in Arkansas. My husband grew up in the shadow of White Rock Mountain in a little community called Pleasant View here in Arkansas. His father served in the Spoke Forces during Vietnam and taught him

to be a survivalist from birth. So we're both at home in the forest, to say the least. In twenty ten, we were spending the night with a friend of ours by the name of Austin. He and my husband were close. He lived in an old single wide trailer and that sat on a hill and away, so that one end was higher than the other. The tongue d was a foot off the ground and the other was four and a half feet off the ground, So the small, sideways rectangular window in the bedroom was eight feet off the ground.

Now Austin lives in a community that is way out in the sticks, just outside Plumberville, Arkansas. It was a pleasant summer evening and we were all hanging around the house. Carl got up to go to the restroom as the rest of us were talking. He hadn't been out there long when I heard him calling my name. I noticed that his tone sounded strange and off, so I rushed to the bathroom to see what was going on. When I opened the door, the first thing I heard was

a low, rumbling growl. I looked at my husband, who was still sitting on the toilet with a shocked look on his face and his pants around his ankles, and asked him what the hell was that. I don't know. He said it was dark outside and I couldn't see anything out the long, skinny window. So I ran over and I turned out the light and I went back to the window. The street light was just out of my line of sight but still illuminated in the end

of the yard. There was a small strip of mode grass at the end of the trailer, and then it was just short brush. All I could see was a large mass on all fours, parting the grass and shrubbery. It looked to be four feet across the shoulders and at least six feet long from shoulder to butt. I did not see a tail, and I turned around and

I asked him what just happened. He told me that he had just come in the bathroom and sat down when he heard a loud growl that made his insides vibrate, and tried to yell from me, but he didn't want to be loud. At the same time, he said that it had growled a low, rumbling growl that was similar to the one that I had heard just after this. I know that what we heard was no dog, no coyote, or bear, none of which could ever growl like this. Only my husband heard the first and loudest and scariest

growl of them all, which scared him stiff. He said he felt all the blood in his body pour down to his feet in fear. Worst of which was that hee. That first growl in the back of his neck, literally through the open door, which only had a screen between him and the beast. He said he was afraid to turn around and look out the window, and he swore it sounded like a werewolf from a movie and was canine for sure, and doesn't remember if he smelled anything.

At this time, he had never researched or knew about dog men or wear being real. My husband said that when he was setting on the toilet and the beast growled on his neck, it was the scariest moment of his entire life. Now that's coming from someone who has seen the absolute worst and best of all humanity. He said, if he hadn't been on the toilet, he'd probably have

wet or sold himself. Austin had the pit ball outside tied up in the back corner of the trailer, almost right next to the window that was located behind my husband as he did his business in the toilet, and we never heard a peep out of her during all of this. This all happened late in the evening and in the morning we found out why she was lying in the yard with her chest and stomach ripped out and the contents were gone. We felt so bad for

that dog. Carl thinks he interrupted the beast while it was eating her, and it voiced its displeasure at him. Good lord, that's man. That is shocking. Sorry. I don't normally stop in the middle of a story, but that is man. That was scare me to death. I walked out and saw a dead dog like that after hearing all those growls. Anyway, let's move on years later in twenty fourteen. In twenty fifteen, we were in Bush, Arkansas.

We had ten acres with a medium sized creek that ran down the backside of our property and it empties into the White River at the southeast corner of our land. Beyond the creek at the backside of the property is Army Corps of Engineer Land. Our property was roughly rectangular shaped. The road we lived down dead ended and became our long curvy driveway. The house was in the middle of the acreage. You couldn't see the house from our steel

gate at the entrance. If you were standing at the end of our driveway, the house and shed would be on your right, and the only house that was close to us was back down the drive to the left of our gate. About one hundred and fifty feet and it had two eight by eight metal sheds at the end of a single wide mobile home. Their fence ran the full length of our driveway. The first time something happened, I was taking Sugar Bear, our miniature poodle, out to

go to the bathroom around two am. I usually walked her on a leash because there are bobcats and codies, and husband even went face to face with a mountain lion one evening. Even though gaming fished and ice that they are here, it was clear out and it was a full moon, so I didn't take a flashlight. I was just across the driveway near the fence that marked the property boundary when I heard a rock hit a

tree near me from across the fence. It went thwack against the tree and then thump, thump, thump to the ground. My heart began to beat faster as I struggled to see what was there. I could not see what threw it, but my first thought was it was a bigfoot. Now Sugar didn't bark, but she was headed toward the house, tugging on the leash, so I took her advice and I'm back toward the house never taking my eyes off the woodline, and then we went inside. I told my

husband the next morning. He said that he believed that I had heard something out there, but he doubted it was bigfoot. Days later, a friend came by to do some fishing. We will call him Wily. He took his gear, a water jug in one of our large handled spotlights. This was around five pm when he went down to the creek. Around seven or eight, it was after dark. He came running in the front door with no stuff

and only one shoe. He was breathing heavy and his eyes were white, and he was white as a ghost. When we asked Wily what happened, he said, I don't know what's down there, but it's big and it's pissed off. We asked where all the stuff was, and he added, I left it down there, and I'm not going back for it. I ran plumb out of my shoe and I'm never fishing here again. He told us that the spotlight had died on him, so he didn't get a

good look at it. Well. He stayed the night. We told him that we would go get his stuff the next day. The next morning, my husband and I went to the dock to get his things. His fishing gear was untouched, but his shoe was missing, as well as his water jug. We found his shoe thirty feet up the creek and his bottle on the bank ten more feet up stream. My husband didn't know what to think because Wiley was a bit of a lush and he had a tendency to spin a good yarn now and then.

But I believed him. I mean, the man ran out of his shoe and he kept running. Later, I was taking Sugar out at approximately two thirty or three am. This was a week or so later. This time, instead of heading toward the river, I took her toward our gate at the opposite end of the driveway. I had a small hand held spotlight with a click switch on it. That night, we had turned off the street light that stood between the house and the shed because we liked

to look at the stars. As we walked past the sheds, which was on my right, I heard a loud bang. It's something huge smack the side of one of the sheds. I was so startled that when I jumped, I clicked off the light and I dropped it at my feet as fast as I could get it picked up. I turned it on and scanned the shed area, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing is what I saw. I figure it was hiding behind one of the sheds. This time,

Sugar ran behind me barking. I was tired and I hadn't forgotten to put her on a leash, and I had backed up towards the house, my heart thumping as we went inside. He did this for about a month and a half, but each time it smacked the shed, I jumped less and less. I was startled, but I was curious At the same time. I really wanted to see this thing. After this, I brought my twelve gage pump with me every night as a precaution. After all,

there are wild animals and they can be unpredictable. The next morning, I told my husband what had happened, and he just looked at me, puzzled and gave me the typical spouse who hasn't seen or heard anything response. I don't know, he said, maybe you're imagining things, even after what happened to our friend. I wasn't angry with him for his response. He just hadn't seen or heard anything yet. I never felt like I needed to use the shotgun at any time as these things were happening, because I

never felt threatened. It never growled at me or made any vocalizations. It felt more like it was laughing at me inside, thinking watch the silly human jump. I never smelled anything, but I think that was because it crossed the river and possibly the creek to get there, depending on where he crossed the river. One evening, I was on the back deck barbecuing dinner when downward the creek and the river meet, I heard loud, grunting sound. It reminded me of a gorilla, but it had a different

quality to it. There was so much more base. That night, it was around eleven PM when I took Sugar out now Sugar and I passed our shed. I heard crashing like an elephant was coming through the woods, except it was on two legs. It was moving from right to left, behind the canoes toward the house. This time I did raise my shotgun and it froze, and at first I

couldn't hear anything. Then I heard a shuffle and a shuffle, and the leaves were moving, and I knew it was standing there, and I got the impression that it didn't know what to do at that moment. I just didn't want our puppy being a snack for this thing, and I shined the shotgun's flashlight into the woods. But I never saw it. Now, why I shine nothing? So once again I backed my way toward the house and went in. I figure it must have been shot at before by

the way it froze. Intended to shoot it unless I had to. I told my husband when I got in the house what had happened. So the next morning he went out to look, but he found nothing. He didn't even find a broken tree limb. I couldn't believe he didn't find anything. It really blew my mind. It was so loud that it sounded like it was breaking everything in its path. He was beginning to think I was nuts.

But then something else happened. A week later, he was taking Sugar out with a shotgun in tow when he got a surprise. They got out the door and onto the middle of the driveway when in the woods on the other side of the fence came something huge crashing through the trees. My husband does not scare easy. He was raised in the woods of Arkansas by a Vietnam Green Beret veteran turned Southern Baptist preacher, and he himself was a combat veteran. Both my husband and his father

are tough, old school guys. But he raised that twelve gay shot gun and it froze. He shined the flashlight into the trees high and low, but he could see nothing. He said, it sounded like a prehistoric mammoth crashing through the woods coming toward him, but he couldn't see or find anything. Like myself, he backed into the house, shot gun at the ready. A few days later, the neighbors at the gate end of our driveway told us that just after dark the night before, they had chased a

large man off their property onto hours. Now. I've always wanted to go back there and see if this thing is still there, but I can't get anyone to go with me. We moved not long after that. We moved to a suburb of Rogers on Beaver Lake. After all this, my husband bought us all a glock ten millimeter. Our son lives with us, so that's three glocks. We now have a house rule that no one goes out at

all without their ten millimeter. He also bought two Rock Island VR eighty semi auto twelve game shotguns with mags. He turned our Yukon Excel Denali into an adventure vehicle and is planning to get more guns, a Ruger Precision Rifle in three hundred win mag and a Marlin Lever Action forty five seventy before we move back out to the country again, which I hope is soon. Thank you for reading this. Let me know what you think about our encounters. Feel free to use our names. These events

are absolutely true. If you need to edit, feel free. Blessings Michelle and Carl, and she goes on to say contact us by phone. I very rarely do that. I just want to read your story and try to get to as many as I can with the mand this family they've had. This is one of those deals where these people just have so much trouble with a creature and they never see it. They never see anything, they

never find any evidence of it being there. Yet they experience something like a dump truck coming through the woods. It is so odd. I guess you can make a lot of noise maybe coming through woods, like in the spring or summer when there's a lot of leaves on, and you can go up there and not see the damage because there's so much going on in the woods. There is so much, so many leaves, tree limbs and all.

And you know, sound is deceptive. You might think it's right on you, but it could be fifty yards away, or it could be right. It could be fifty yards away and be one hundred yards away. You know, they could sound like it's fifty yards away and be one hundred yards away. So the point is, sound does weird

things in woods. I hear my dog barking sometimes, and I think that dog is a mile away, and I'll stand up on my porch we kind of face a big patch of woods right out in my back door, and he'll just be twenty yards in the woods, just standing there. I can seem, but he sounds like he's really far away. So anyway, the point is, it's so odd. And this is not the only set of experiences I've heard that people have all this stuff go on, yet

they never see anything. They never find any evidence, no tracks, no nothing. Now some people do find tracks, but this couple is one of the unlucky few who they just can't prove what this thing is. And I know they'd like to know just for themselves, not to prove it to the world. But it's a that's just an interesting phenomenon. But I appreciate didn't have to edit one bit of this. Normally, I send this stuff to Rebecca and she cranks it

out real fast. And y'all have heard me mention Rebecca Rebecca Lee West and the author's she helps me edit these emails. I don't know if you guys have read her book or not, but she's got one book out called No good Man. Actually it's on audiobook right now. I did not do it. Christopher Lane, who is an exceptional, exceptional audiobook narrator, narrated her book, and but I did one chapter of it just to help promote her book. Rebecca's pretty cool. She's she's a writer, she's a screenplaywriter.

She's got a young family. I don't know. She's an exceptional person and stays busy all the time. Look her website up Rebecca Lee Wesson and find her book No good Man on audible or on Amazon bite and read it or by it and listen to it. Christopher Lane did a great job. I'm just once again one of these things. I don't ever hardly mention Rebecca, but she's she's an exceptional writer. She does a great job, and she's working on a book two of No good Man.

She's working on a fictional podcast called the River Stills Trailer Park Phenomenon, on which I've actually had the pleasure of reading her first three episodes in the fictional podcast the screenplay, and it is so good. I can't wait till she's able to get that produced and get it out. Anyway, check her out, Rebecca Lee Wesson. Look her name up on Google. You can go to her website check out what all she's doing. Or you can look her up

on Amazon or Audible. Anyway, thanks for the story this story. It didn't require any editor Sorry, it didn't need you, Rebecca. Sorry, didn't need any editing on this one. That was the whole point of that. Anyway. Thanks for listening to the story. Thanks for thanks for sending the story Michelle and Carl Man. What an experience. Awesome. Thanks again, thanks for listening to the podcast. This is Easter Sunday and I'm just finishing this podcast up. I hope you have a blessed day.

Hope you got to hang around with a family, Hope that Easter Bunny got to come see your kids and your grandkids, and remember that the holiday is about Jesus rising from the tomb after he was crucified three days earlier. And also remember that his last name is not Christ. It's not jesus first name, Christ's second name. His name is Jesus. He is our King and I'm so glad he came out of that tomb. Hope you guys have a good week and we will see you on the next podcast. Thanks