Should Have Never Gone to the Cabin

big city, I never lost that part of me. One of the first things on my long to do list was to get out to my parents' cabin and break out some fishing poles around dusk and catfish long into the night. Fishing had been a big part of my life and my favorite pastime before going abroad, and I couldn't wait to cast out get a line into the water. On my first night out to the cabin, I did just that. It was a glorious night. I could not

have dreamed of better conditions. It was a warm summer's evening with fair skies and almost a full moon, absolutely perfect for fishing. There was no question that I was going to do some fishing down by the dock even though my father had warned me it was pretty shallow out there. The water could have been inches deep. For all I cared. I just wanted to go fishing, so

that's what I did. I set up my pole, and I walked down to the dock, and I ready myself a nice comfortable spot with my pole rigged up in my first cold beer open and lying out in the water. I sat back and took a moment. Finally I was in my personal little heaven. As I sat there, I decided to get out my camera and take a few shots of the moon in the cabin. I've been taking a lot of photos in general, as I had no idea when I'd be getting back again once trip was over.

I'd only been sitting there thirty minutes when off high and to the west, I could see a red ball of light moving and descending rapidly down in my direction. I didn't have time to think about what it was, or if it was a plane or a drone or anything I knew of. It obviously wasn't. It was a plasma like red ball, about the size of a grapefruit, and it seemed to admit its own dull, deeply red light and it would change shape as it appeared to

react to the gravity of its movements. As it got to about fifty yards from me, it began to slow down, Thankfully. At this point, my instinct was to get the camera, so I began taking pictures of the orb as it slowly descended approximately thirty yards away to my left toward the water. I managed to zoom in on it and zoom out, feverishly taking photos as it stopped and hovered about three feet above the water. It hovered there for five seconds, and then it sped off to my left

toward the bank and into the woods. That's where I lost sight of it. I can't say that I was scared. I really can't say if my feelings were positive or negative, but something told me to call it a night. Back at the cabin, I took a shower, and I picked up my phone to message my wife, who was waiting behind, to tell her that I was okay, and chat a bit before going to bed. We chatted about how our days had gone and what we'd done. Of course, who

could top of UFO siding right? I told my wife what had happened, knowing she'd laugh and not believe me. She'd think I was kidding with her, as I often do about everything, only this time I wasn't kidding, and I had the photos to back it up. I randomly chose five photos of the fifteen or twenty that I had taken of the orb and I texted them her. Had I not after the following day, they would have all been lost at the bottom of the lake over

which they had been taken. The following morning, at the cabin, I woke up hungry, as I'd gotten in the late that evening before, and I'd missed supper. I can't say I was jazzed up about my sighting and the photos that I had. At most, I figured i'd share a few photos on Facebook and other social media outlets. It's just something interesting that happened on my trip. After breakfast, I told my father what had happened, and I handed him my phone to scroll through the photos that I

had taken. And you'd have to know my father to understand his reaction, but I could tell he believed it, and after all, there were photos to prove it. I put my phone away and began the rest of the day. After all, I had more fishing to do and Facebook would still be there when I was done. I used the rest of the day to fish and help out around the cabin a bit. I wanted to prepare an old canoe my father had for another catfishing excursion, this time using the canoe in deeper waters where I knew

the big fish were well. Day turned into night and I was already prepared for my journey at chicken livers and fishing poles, my tackle box and life jacket and lights, and of course a shotgun. There were a lot of snakes out this year. Who knows whatever else was out there. I also packed my smartphone, which would remain at the red ege, just in case my little red friend decided

to pay another visit. I set out for deeper waters where the larger fish lay, not so far from the dock of the cabin, just far out enough to get past the sandbar in the wash out from the creek which ran into Haiko Lake. I had rolled out about one hundred yards and I decided to set an anchor and ten feet of water, and I baited the hook of one of the fishing with my trusty chicken liver, and I began to rig up a second pole. No

sooner had I had the second pole rigged. My first pole had a bite and it was something big, so I set the hook. The fight was on, but the catfish had a secret weapon, my anchor rope. He swam around the rope of my anchor, making me shift my body in order to try to get to the anchor and get it up, while hopefully somehow managing to still land this fish. Looking back, it was perhaps an overestimation

of my own rusty abilities. I should have let go immediately in the melee, I lost the ever so delicate balancing act of canoe fishing and capsized. I emerged from the water the canoe completely turned over, with all the contents eight to ten feet underneath me. I turned the canoe back over, and with a little help from my small plastic container of chicken livers, I managed to bail

out enough water to keep it floating. That catfish won the battle, but I had more important things on my mind, like finding all the items I knew were somewhere at the bottom of the lake. And one by one I dove down and I found each item. The shotgun was one of the more tricky ones, as it camouflaged itself quite nicely among the sticks and branches. Finally, it was

down to my smartphone. I knew this would be tricky, if not impossible, but half of my trip and over three hundred photos were still on my sim card, and I wasn't going to give up without a fight. I must have doved down to the bottom fifty or more times, feeling around since visibility was about zero, but I never could emerge with the phone. I was getting tired, and I knew that I still had one hundred yards to

cover over a sandbar with a water filled canoe. I resigned the phone and all photos lost, and I began the arduous task of salvaging the canoe in its contents. The events of what happened later that night have haunted me ever since. I returned to the dock, completely exhausted and wanting nothing more than to hit the shower and go to bed. I climbed the hill to the cabin and I reached the front porch. There, I decided i'd pause for a smoke and gathered myself before going inside.

As I sat there in the rocking chair, enjoying my Marlborough, I got an eerie feeling of being watched. I leaned forward in the rocking chair and I turned my head towards the sky, hoping to see another orb. But before my eyes could reach the stars, something else caught my attention. Near the tops of the trees in our front yard, I saw four hovering figures, unmistakable figures that were darker than almost a full moonlit night, wearing dark hoods that

covered their faces. It's difficult to express what I felt as I stood there looking at them and them looking at me. Now, I wasn't scared, I was in complete alle I closed my eyes and I opened them, but they were still there and still staring at me. They were the size of an average man, maybe a little shorter, and they stood out brilliantly on the bright night. I stood there for maybe a minute longer, and finally a feeling came over me, as if I'd seen too much

and it was time for me to leave. So I took one last drag from my cigarette and I shoved it into the old sand bucket beside the rocking chair. I stood up and turned my back to them, and I walked into the cabin, where I opted out of the shower and I went straight to bed. I've never spoken of it since then, but what I saw that night is seared into my memory. I know the orb and the figures are related, but how and why where they're from? Well, your guess is as good as mine.

The red Orb incident is a true story, and the photos are completely real, and to this day I am no closer to knowing what it was. I may be in the dark about what I saw, but one thing is completely clear to me. We are not alone. One time, a few friends and I traveled to a bothy, which is like an emergency shelter for hikers. We'd like to find new ones and stay there often. We went to I can't pronounce this smith Hup Bothy in the border region of England and Scotland. We got there and chopped

wood and did everything you needed to do. Upon arrival, we had a couple of drinks and we got settled in and just when it got dark, I looked out the door of the bothie and I could see what looked like headlights coming from about a half a mile away. We hid because we didn't want to be found, and when we looked out again, the headlights joined into a single orb and began bobbing up and down. Then it zipped right up into the valley toward us, and we saw it had many different colors, sort of like a

pie chart. We stood watching in amazement and trying to guess what it was. It moved quickly in a pattern of constant triangles, and it stayed there for a couple of hours. Now I know this sounds stupid, but we were actually bored looking at it. We all saw it, but only two of us wanted to talk about it. We listened to a football match on the radio, and we all fell asleep early. And when we woke up the next day, the grass in the valley had been flattened where the ORB had been. I like your show

and I like to listen to it a lot. I noticed you have a few UFO and ORB stories for my part of the world, so I thought I would write to you until you mine. Well. Thank you for doing that. Yeah, well, I love UFO stories and ORB stories and alien abduction stories. Send them on. Okay, listen the podcast with a Bigfoot story. Someone left comment in the comment section the other day said why do you keep doing all these bigfoot stories? Want you do other stuff?

And I thought, man, that's the first time anybody has ever said that, I do get burned out on these Bigfoot stories. But I get it because that's kind of how the channel originally started telling Bigfoot stories. But I did get I did get to one to read some some different type things, hauntings and you know other things UFOs. We've had a couple of those in this podcast, and I've never had anybody say that. I thought that was pretty cool. I wonder how many people will feel that way.

You guys get burned out on Bigfoot. I do. I like doing them, but sometimes if I can just take a break for a podcast or two and a different story, it kind of revives me a little bit going back to Bigfoot. So anyway, let's end this up with a Bigfoot story. In the mid nineteen eighties, I joined a group of people on a hunting trip. The first morning, we didn't get out to our hunting location until seven point thirty, way after daylight. The location was a plateau

above miles of timber and a waterway. Several other vehicles were already there when we arrived, and the last thing I was going to do was walk into another hunter's location during the daylight. The other three headed west for the timber, and I went north as there were no tracks in the snow headed that way. One of the other guys warned me that I would be going into a forty square miles of timber and swamp land, and it was easy to get lost there perfect I told him.

I let him know I'd be hunting until dusk and not to leave without me. I walked downhill on a game trail for one hundred and fifty yards, and to my right side was an entanglement of brier bushes at least six feet high with massive thorns. It stretched from the top of the hill, just short of the park vehicles, all the way to the bottom of the hill. No one in their right mind would attempt to walk through those heavily intertwined briars, because even the heaviest protective honting

clothes would be ripped to shreds. Once I reached the bottom of the long hill, I had a thirty foot wide waterway to cross. Luckily, a falling tree allowed access to the other side, but halfway across a tree branch broke and I fell in. I managed to throw the sling of my thirty thirty over a branch and pull myself back up onto the log before my feet sunk anymore into the silt in the river bottom. I made it to the bank and I dumped the water out of my boots and I started walking to dry myself

off on dry land again. I looked for track in the snow, but I didn't see any. I headed for high ground for a panoramic view, and I saw that in the area where I crossed the log were fresh tracks right next to me. Now, at first glance, they appeared to be black bear tracks. It must have seen me fall in the water and figured that it would check me out just in case I was an easy meal. I was wary, but I kept on high ground to

keep an eye on my surroundings. I saw some deer heading east in front of me, but I didn't have a good shot. After hours of little to no action, I went back toward the water to head toward the vehicles and my ride back. At that point in the day, the cloud cover had become thick and the snowfall was heavy. It was getting close to dusk, so I quickened my pace towards the vehicles. By the time I reached the

fallen log across the waterway. The snow had turned into a blizzard, and thankfully this time I crossed the water without issue, though it was pitch dark at that point with very limited visibility. When I finally made it up the hill and passed the wall of briars to the spot where the vehicles were parked, I realized everyone had left without me. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard. I waited for twenty minutes when

I heard a noise come from downhill. I thought it must be another hunter from the area, but the visibility was near zero, so I couldn't see him. I yelled down to him, thinking it might help him find his way up the hill, but there was no reply, so I yelled down again. Still I got no response, but I could hear him heading uphill toward me. He wasn't going along the snow covered game trail, though he was coming up through the briar patch. Now there was no

way a human could have traveled through it. Even a bear would have avoided it. But there I stood, listening to the briars crunching snipe under this thing's feet. Is it took one step after another going through this impenetrable briar patch with little effort, the way a regular person would get through knee high grass. I yelled down again to whatever it was, convinced at this point that I was not dealing with a human. I got no reply, but I did hear it stopped for a few seconds

before continuing through the briers and closer to me. I had an experience with three bigfoot on a fishing trip once. They were eight feet in height, totally black, but they were friendly. But this time felt different. I was scared. All I had was a thirty thirty, which wasn't enough to stop a bigfoot. At best, I would be able to fire a warning shot to hopefully change his mind from coming in my direction. I yelled down one more time, letting it know that I would be forced to fire

if it came any closer. Still, there was no response. I heard it stop and then start toward me again. I fired around near his location and listened to the silence for a few seconds. After that, then I heard it getting closer again. I fired another round in the same location, and I listened to the silence again, and then I heard the sound of it approaching once more. If this beast was mad before, it had to be

really pissed by now. I realized my option at that point would be to fire a headshot when it came into view, and I backed up a few feet and readied myself for a split second shot, listening to this thing get closer and closer. Just then I heard something to my right. It was a pickup truck, and it came to a stop and I jumped in. The guy in the back seat asked why I didn't unload my rifle when I was supposed to, and all I could say was, you do not want to know the answer

to that question. Lord knows what would have happened if that pickup had not return when it did a few seconds later, and this story would have ended a whole lot differently. Oh, man, I bet it would have. That's a cool story. This guy had experiences with Bigfoot before, so apparently he knew what he was dealing with, since this thing wasn't answering him, and he knew what it sounded like coming through that big, thick briar patch. But

this was exciting, great story. Oh just imagine this happening to you. It would just scare me to death. Scare me to death, but I'm sure glad he sent the story to us so we could all enjoy it. Hey, y'all, thanks for listening to a podcast. Wasn't very long, but I had a few minutes this afternoon waiting on some answers on some questions I have on a job I'm working on. I thought, well, I'll just keep being productive

and record a podcast. So I recorded this real quick, edited it, and got it up for everyone to enjoy. Me included all right, I appreciate y'all, and we'll see you on the next one. Thanks Older added