Here is an email from Jessica. This is really good. She writes, growing up, I had many spiritual encounters. I spent most of my young life absolutely terrified. I've often thought of writing a book about all the experiences I've had, but I learned very quickly to keep them to myself. Once I finally moved out of the house and grew up, the experiences stopped. None of those experiences pertained to Bigfoot. They were all centered on ghosts and
spirits. I'm thirty six years old now, and to this day, I'm still terrified of the dark. I removed every closet door in my house the day we closed on it. I'm not ashamed to say that I still have to sleep with a night light on in my room, the bathroom light on, and the light over the stove on unless it out. If it gets dark outside and there's still laundry to be hung, I leave it until the next morning. And I'm grateful for my husband. I've told him everything,
and whether or not he believes me, I'll never know. But he's never laughed at me or told me that I'm crazy, nor has he ever made me think he doesn't believe me. He's a very understanding of my needs when it comes to the closet doors and such as. For Bigfoot, I had never thought about it. Nobody ever talked about it while I was growing up, so it never crossed my mind until a few years ago when I stumbled
across a Bigfoot encounter podcast. Immediately I became obsessed, utterly and completely obsessed. I believe all of them. I know what it's like to experience something and not be believed, and it really sucks. Now I've watched all the shows and documentaries and encounter stories. Last week, my husband and I took our boys, who were also obsessed with Bigfoot by the way, on vacation
to the Panhandle of Florida. It was the middle of nowhere, and it was pure bliss to visit the springs in the beaches that we hadn't been before. We were driving down the road with no houses around. There were no other cars, and there wasn't any self service, and there was nothing for
miles and miles. When my husband turned around to face the back seat so he could talk to the boys about something, I was driving and staring at the road ahead of us when I saw this massive, unbelievably large thing dart across the road a few hundred yards in front of me. It was too far ahead for us to get any details, but I knew immediately what it was. It was so enormous, but it moved so fast, and the
way it moved, I knew it was a bigfoot. I immediately yelled for everyone to look, but it was moving so quickly that neither my husband or my boys were able to see it, and by the time we got to the place in the road where it had crossed, it was nowhere to be found. The woods are thick there, and it was as if they had swallowed it up. It had completely vanished. I know this wasn't the best of encounters, but I like to think that it was God's way of blessing
me with a tiny glimpse of what is really out there. I've been dreaming excessively about it since that day. It replays over and over in my head. My husband and my oldest son, who was eight, were disappointed they didn't get to see it too, but I feel grateful. I've spent the last few years in the woods hoping for an encounter, and I finally got one. Oh, Jessica, that's cool. That's that's how I want to
see a bigfoot. I've said it a million times, but I don't want to walk up on one in the woods, and I don't want I don't want to look down out of a deer stand or out of a turkey blind on the ground and a bigfoot stay in there. I want to be in my car and I wanted to be one hundred, one hundred and fifty two three hundred yards away and I see something cross the road and I know it's a big fit. That's how I want to see one. And I'm a
little bit like you. I'm a little apprehensive that I would tell anybody about it, because they'd all say I was crazy. All my buddies would say, well, I already think I'm crazy. But I don't know what I would do. I might tell y'all, I might tell the audience here that I saw one. This was a great story, and this wasn't an action pack, but these are so interesting and she did a great job writing it. So thanks Jessica. This emails from Scott. This is another good one.
Hope you guys enjoy this. When I was eleven, we lived on the outskirts of town, with a six foot wide irrigation ditch that ran along the back of our property. Whenever my friends weren't around to play with, I like to get on my metallic green shwin stingray and ride down the ditch road for about four miles or so until I got to a country road, and then I'd turn and ride back. I love making that little trip.
Wild Grass grew waste high on both sides of the ditch, with groves upon a rosa pine all around, and sections of volcanic lava rock here and there. Along with all these trees and all kinds of plants that grew around them, there was never a shortage of wildlife. Birds were all around, and snakes were always slithering in and out of the ditch or along the path, and frogs croaked and jumped about in the water where the tadpoles were busy turning
themselves into more frogs. I'd see water skippers and even the occasional mule deer on those rides. It was one of those hot summer days when all of my friends were busy doing something else when I decided to go exploring down that ditch road. I had reached my turnaround point and I was headed back home when I heard a noise coming from a large tree on the other side of the ditch well. I was curious to know what was making the sound, so I stopped my bike and I looked up into the tree. It only
took a minute to locate the creature. It was obvious. It looked like a large monkey about my size, sitting up on the branches. As soon as this thing saw that I was looking at it, it shimmied around to the other side of the tree well. I wanted to see more of it, so I started trying to walk up and down the road to see around the tree, but it kept moving with me. I could still see its hands on the trunk, but I couldn't get around fast enough to see anything
else. It was on the other side of the ditch, so I couldn't walk around the tree itself. I grew tired of the game that we were playing pretty fast, so I got on my bike and I rode back home. And when I got there, I told my mother what I had seen, but she laughed and she said I had a very good imagination. Later, when I told my friends about it, they all accused me of spinning yarns well, I was upset that I couldn't make anyone believe me, so
after a while I quit talking about it. It wasn't until years later that I realized I had seen a young sasquatch or squatch let I think, he writes here. I'm certain that the mother must have been in that area, and I guess I'm lucky that she didn't view my curiosity as a threat. You know, the thing that jumps out in so many of these stories is that people try to tell other people what they had seen, and they eventually
just quit talking about it because nobody believes them. But I guess that's just part of the further course, if you've seen something and you tell people and they either laugh at you or don't believe you, shake it off. You know, it's just part of it. Don't talk about it anymore, probably because the more you talk about it, the more you realize that they could care less. And the more you realize that the more you talk about it,
the more silly you look. So just you know, maybe keep it to yourself and maybe one day they'll see one income to you you this was a good, good story, Scott. I appreciate you sending it. Okay, I think this story is from a gentleman who is from India. I think that's right. Uh. We're going to read and find out if he says. But I think from some of the words he uses, it sounds Indian to me. So I don't know. It's hard for me to pick
up those Eastern languages. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. But he asked me not to use his name, and I'll say this. He says, his English is not very good. But Neoma who edited this for me, he says that she didn't have to change but one or two words, so he has a very good command of the English language. But let's hear what he writes. Most people know about the Yeti or the Nepali bigfoot, but we have another creature here known as the band Zachary. A band means
forest and zachary means shaman. These creatures are said to be covered entirely with except for the palms of their hands and their faces and the soles of their feet, and they resemble men more than apes. There's only one main difference between a bigfoot and a banzakary, and that's their height. While a bigfoot is known to stand eight feet tall or more. A Banzakary is only three to five feet tall. Their hair is reddish or golish brown, so you
could call them a small yetti. According to legend, they live in forests and caves, and they kidnap young candidates, typically between the ages of seven and twenty, to initiate into shamanism. Only those youths who are pure in body and heart are retained for teaching. Ideally, the time they spend teaching them is about thirty days, and then they are returned to the place from which they are initially abducted. Candidates with physical scars or who do not have
pure hearts are released quickly. Often they are violently thrown from the ban Zachary's cave, and if they're lucky, they will not be captured by his ferocious wife, the band Zacharina, who will eat them who like the Yeddie. There's an extensive oral mythology surrounding the ban Zachary, but because there's little to
no public interest, there's no written text that I'm aware of. They are said to be invisible to the human eye, but they can make themselves invisible if they want, and they have been known to beat shepherds or travelers who are resting in the jungle to avoid the heat. In some instances, they will even throw them down the hills, and when the shepherd opens his eyes after a beating, he will see them, but only for a few seconds.
There are also stories of the creature taking the milk of cows, so that people would often sleep near their cows at night and chase them away. Because people can't see them, they have to listen for the sucking noise, and then they swing sticks in front of the cows and the utters and hit the creatures, causing them to scream horribly. The creatures are often heard whistling and howling in the night or from the hills above as the villagers work in
the fields. These whistles are frequently answered from the opposite hill. When people find the remains of crabs or the intestines of frogs near the entrance of a cave, they say the ban zakary lives there because they often eat those little things. But they are omnivorous creatures who also eat from the many fruit trees and wild edible roots in the hills of Nepal, and it's sad that So many people know about the Yetti, but so few have heard about the Banzakary.
Oh that's interesting for India. Is this from Nepal or India? I don't know. I don't know. I don't even know where Nepal is in reference to India. I need to I'm a moron when it comes to geography. I know where a few a few countries are, but I could look this up. But this is really interesting. I love to hear these stories from people from other countries who have the same legends and mysteries that we do here in North America, and if there's anyone out there from another country listening.
We've gotten a few from Australia on the Yawi, and I think we've had some from the Philippines. We've had some from South America. We've had some stories from Europe. I guess Russia, China, some of those countries that we don't communicate well with very much. I haven't heard anything from them. I did see a story one time on a I think it was in China. This could have been Nepal too, but it was like a human but he was huge. He was like this giant guy and he he wasn't
Harry, but he looked like an eight. It was amazing. I think it's probably a birth defect or something. But all I had to say, I really love these stories from other places around them globe. So if you live somewhere else and that doesn't have to be a bigfoot type creature, it could be a ghost or I don't know. I'd love to get stories about the Banshee from Ireland from Irish people. I'd love to hear stories about ghosts from England. In the UK and Scotland. I think the Welch have a
few really cool stories they have. They have paranormal stuff going on Norway. Up in Norway where the uh where all the blonde haired Swedes live. There's there's all kind of mythical creatures that supposedly live in that area. I would love to hear from anybody who has anything. Just send me an email to Dixie Cryptid at gmail dot com. I'd love to hear from you anyway. This man is a good writer. He doesn't have a good command of English, but he did a great job. I appreciate you. I grew up
on a forty acre sand and rock farm in Oklahoma. I'm seventy four years old now, But back when I was twelve, I got a job driving a tractor during the hay harvest at twenty five cents an hour. Now. That may not sound like much now, but my allowance was twenty five cents a week, so it was a windfall for me. Plus, riding in the tractor all day was far less work than the chores I had to do at the farm. I would cut, rake and bail for ten or twelve
hours at a time. Well, that added up to three dollars on most days. To me, that was a fortune. My boss offered lunch to his workers, but he charged a quarter for a jam sandwich. Now, jam sandwich was a piece of be loaning jammed between two pieces of bread, and we were lucky he didn't charge for the water. The season was coming to an end, with wet weather on the horizon and a quarter of the
field still on the ground. My boss wanted it cut and raked and bailed and in the barn before the rain hit the next morning, so he asked me if i'd stay until the job was finished. I was tired to the toenails, but it meant more money, so I said yes. By midnight, everyone else was headed home. My boss usually picked me up each morning and dropped me off at the day's end, but he was overly tired, and I suspected that he may have tipped a few throughout the day. He
asked if I could walk home that night. It's just a couple of miles, he said, keep the moon over your shoulder and you'll be fine. Neither of us remembered the river and the marsh that lay between me and the house, and besides, I was young and it didn't seem like a big problem to me. The moon was full and bright as I entered the woods. The storm was still in the distance, but occasional bolts of lightning flickered
on the horizon to remind me that it was getting close. It had been two hours, and I was beginning to cuss my boss and the swamp and my life in general. I'd kept the moon over my shoulder, like my boss had said to do, but I was lost. Mostly I thought about my grandmother. I knew she would be sitting on the front porch waiting for me, and worried to death. My granny was a little old lady who never used rough words and rarely raised her voice unless she was provoked. When
that happened, she was a force to be reckoned with. Once I not so accidentally shot her in the backside with my baby gun. That was not a good day for either of us. The wind was picking up and singing in the treetops with the approaching storm. I was working my way out of a deeper pool that I'd stumbled into when I heard something that sounded like more than just a wind. Steering into the dark abyss that was the swamp, I saw what I thought must be a mountain lion sitting on a large stump.
In those days of ignorant, indestructible youth, I reacted to fear with anger, and I knelt down and searched out for a stout stick, ign worrying whatever slick scale creature slithered away from under my fingertips. I found one, and I raised it over my head. Come on you, some of bitch, I screamed in defiance, on knacky dang head off. When I looked again, the cat was gone. The wind rose up and howl some more, and I kept moving. When it died down again, and I
heard that sound that wasn't wind. Ahead of me, in a small moonlit clearing, I could see a shadow darker than the other, standing tall and bulky. Its eyes glowed in the moonlight. My grandmother's warnings of hats and buggers rang in my ears. I'd never paid much heed to those warnings before I knew haints were ghosts, but she'd never described a booger to me. I had assumed it was all the overactive superstition of an old lady anyway,
But now I wasn't so sure. Thinking it was better to be safe than sorry, I started toward where I thought home was. I'd like to say that I was too smart to run, but that would be a lie. I was too tired. All I could muster was a fast mosey. I didn't know if that thing was behind me, if it was even following me, and if it was catching up with me, or what it would do to me if it did catch me. I only knew I wanted to get home. I swam the river and staggered up onto the opposite bank, and,
feeling the exhaustion in my legs were like lead weights. There was no stopping, though, and I didn't know where that thing was that I pushed on. A while later, I found myself on the highway a couple of miles from home, too exhausted now to take another step, and I stood there staring in the direction I wanted to be, listening for that strange sound that wasn't the wind, and looking like something that had been dragged out of a when a farm ro pulled up in his old truck. You need a
ride, boy, he asked. I was too dirty to ride in the front with him, but he let me climb in the back and drop me off on the road. In front of our mailbox. My grandmother was in her chair on the front porch with a cup of coffee in her hand and a fair sized switch leaning against the wall. And with my last bit of energy, I opened the side gate and made my way to the porch. As she called, where you been, boy? I explained about the last
of the hay and the approaching storm. I told her how my boss had said if I kept the moon over my shoulder, I'd find my way home. I told her how I got lost anyway. She sent me out to the pumphouse to clean up while she made biscuits and gravy. I guess I didn't do too good of a job cleaning up, because after we ate, she sent me to the screened inside porch to sleep in a guest bed. A few hours later, I woke to the sound of a ruckus in the
drive and picking out. I saw my grandmother shaking her finger under the boss man's nose as she read him the Riot Act. You durned, idiot, a grown man, and you don't realize the moon. Don't hang steal in the sky. You ain't so big or so old that I won't wear out a switch on you. My boss kept his eyes on his boots. It was a good thing to stare at when Granny was on a rent. This is an email from Laura. This is really good. It's got several stories
in one email, so this should be interesting, she writes. After graduating from college in the mid nineteen eighties, I went on a six month work exchange to the United Kingdom. I found a job in London at a once posh West End hotel that had seen better days. Now it catered to backpacking youths from all over the world. The staff was from for White. One of my friends was from Italy, who coincidentally was also named Laura, and
she told me a story about her older brother, Falsto. They lived in the industrial north part of the nation, and Fausto was a postman with a rural route out of town. Normally, he enjoyed exercising in the fresh air as he delivered the mail, but one evening he came home uncharacteristically unsettled.
It had been a hot day and a blinding bright summer day. He had driven to the final and most remote part of his route and parked his mail truck, and he hand carried the remaining letters on foot to the last few sparse households. It occurred to him that it was very still and he was alone. No one was out in the dusty country lane. There were no noises from the farms, from either people or animals in trouble. By this, he delivered the post to the last addressed and he began walking back to
the truck at a fast pace. He was almost there when he heard some shuffling behind him, and he turned around, expecting to greet one of the locals, but what he saw took his breath away. He froze in his tracks, and he watched in cold horror as a large naked man with long, reddish brown hair all over his body walked across the dirt road on all fours, paying no attention whatsoever to my friend's stunned brother. Now terrified,
he dove into the mail truck and sped away to civilization. Laura never mentioned the words sasquatch or Bigfoot at the time. I didn't believe in them anyway. I imagine one of those unfortunate people with the genetic disease of I can't even pronounce the words. She writes here. She says it's creepy enough anyway. Now, particularly after listening to people's Bigfoot stories from around the world, I wonder I was a believer in UFO's long before I came to believe even
Bigfoot, and with good reason. Back in the mid nineteen seventies, when I was in junior high school, me and three of my friends stayed after school to watch a girl's basketball game. Afterward, Lisa's mother came to pick us up and take us all home. When we dropped off the first girl, I noticed that there was what appeared to be a stereotypical flying saucer that looked like it came right out of the mid century science fiction movie hovering above
us. It was round with a dome top, and it had multicolored lights all around it. It wasn't very big, maybe the size of a large car, but it was alarmingly close. It followed us to the next girl's house, and the whole time we were all craning around to see it. Lisa's mother complained that we were going to make her wreck the car, but we were too fascinated by the UFO to listen. We protested that it was
still there and it was following us. Since I lived the furthest away slightly out in the country was the last to be dropped off, and it followed us all the way to my house. And when we got there, I jumped out and ran inside as fast as I could. From my bedroom window, I could see the car drive away, but the UFO remained hovering outside. It seemed to be waiting for someone, and I went to get my brother for validation. We watched it for ten minutes, saying things like I
can't believe it. What is that? And we said it over and over again. It was probably less than half a football field off the ground, and it hung there in midair between our house and the neighbor's house, and then with a sudden burst of impossible speed, it shot off at a steep angle into the night. We all talked about it for weeks. I'm not sure anyone else at the school believed us, but we didn't care because six of us saw it. Thirty years later, in two thousand and four,
I was in Arizona house set for a friend. She lived on the west side of town, or rather outside of town, in a neighborhood of houses that were probably about two acres apart. I was staying in the casida behind the main house. A casida is a small one bedroom house separate from the big one, usually for widowed mother in laws, allowing her to maintain her
independence while keeping her nearby, and in Britain they're called granny flats. Once you leave the city limits of Tucson, there are very few lights in the desert. There are neither street lights nor house lights, so it's dark, a true deform. The little house that I was staying in in the yard around it were dark. I put a night light in the bathroom so I wouldn't trip or step on a critter, such as the occasional tarantula or scorpion that might wander in if I got up in the night. I hadn't seen
any nasties inside, but there was a gecko residing in the kitchen. If he could get in, so could the others. I remember as a kid that our cousins in Texas would put newspapers on the floors at night so they could hear the scorpions rattling around if they got inside. But I digress, Holy crap would I would lose my crap if I heard if a scorpion crawled up on me at night. Anyway, But I sorry to go off on a tangent there. One night in the Castida, I turned off the lights
and I went to bed. All of a sudden, the night light in the bathroom popped loudly and went out, along with all the electricity. I thought, oh great, I've blown a fuse. I got up in search of the electrical panel, and I flipped the breaker, but nothing happened. I turned around and was rather startled to see a blue light shining through the skylight in the front room. What in the world could that be? I said to myself. A Tucson is a military town. Various aircraft can often
be seen overhead any time, day or night. Thinking that was the case, opened the door and I stepped outside. I didn't get that far. As soon as I opened the door, I saw a brilliant column of bright blue light projected onto the rocky ground thirty feet away from the door. And above it was a UFO that looked nearly identical to the one I had seen as a schoolgirl back in Kentucky all those years before. This one was the
same size as the other, about the size of a large car. It had the prototypical domed roof and colored lights around it, and like before, it was alarmingly close. It hovered there as if it were waiting. Now I know, Travis Walton. I've read the book, and I've seen the movie Fir in the Sky, and there was no way I was going outside to bask in the blue light and be beamed up to meet any nefarious characters.
So I shut the door and I went back to bed. I may or may not have pulled the covers up over my head like a child, I don't remember. After a few minutes, the electricity in the night light popped back on. I did not get up to investigate whether the blue light was still shining in the skylight the next morning, I went outside to double check if there were any lights on posts nearby that could have projected the light
into the yard. There were none. I know nearly nothing about aircraft, so I've seen a lot of things flying around the sky over the years that I could not identify. That doesn't mean that they were necessarily from outer space. But I will go out on a limb here and speculate that these two UFOs were actually alien spacecraft. All I know is that I wasn't about to find out. This is an email from John. This is very intriguing to me. You guys, let me know what you think. In the comment
section. It's a little bit about religion. I might make some commentary on that at the end, but I'm just going to read it to you the way he sent it to me. Here's what John writes in nineteen seventy six, when I was saying, I can't even get my mouth to work here. In nineteen seventy eight, when I was eight years old, we went to one of those old fashioned fire breathing Pentecostal church meetings that scared me to the core. The church was new, and so was the building. It
was mostly blocked with no pain or air conditioning. No place on earth ever feels so close to Hell is the inside of a church building on a hot summer day, when the preacher is spewing fire in brimstone with every verse he quotes. The man at the pulpit that day was an older evangelist who was speaking on the future events and the end times. He had me on the edge of my seat, not knowing whether to run or hide or sit and
listen. My dad's belt held me firm. I guess his primary subject was the second Coming of Christ, but he talked about things that no one could have known back then. Everything we have today. He touched on even how folks would act, and then he said it would be like unto the days of Noah, and there would be monsters and rumors of monsters. If he was trying to scare me, he was about as successful as a man can
be. I've never forgotten his sermon all these years later, and I understand now how Satan wants to be God, so he tries to create things like God, but he never quite gets it right because he lacks the ability to give things a soul, and that's how bloodlines get tainted. There is one area called the Green Swamp where I like to hunt. Back when I was eighteen, I hunted there alone quite a bit. One morning, I was out on a powder grade close to the northern fence line. I'd walked several
miles and I decided it was time to have a rest. I found a spot where I could look out over at least one hundred acres of cleared land where the palm meadows were coming back through the charred earth and were about a foot high. Bay Head swamps are pretty dry, most the only half an inch of water or so, and I was looking out over the landscape when
I saw what I took to be an otter. I've had a lot of years to think about that, and I've come to realize that no otter that far away could ever look that big, and where he was heading there was no major water source for miles, but I was pretty sure there were deep fire breaks cut with the big turnplows in that direction. They create ditches, and they're up to two feet deep on one side. At the time I
wrote about what I saw. Now I put it down as an otter that looked more like a sea lion doing a watermelon crawl at a pretty good pace. Now that I realized it couldn't have been an otter, I've tried to figure out what it was. No pig would crawl like that over one hundred yards. I guess I'll never know what it was. I had another incident a mile from there while I was hunting with my brother in law. It was an afternoon hunt, with me and the stand on one side of the
road and him on the other between the heat and the mosquitoes. I wasn't having much fun and he was a good mile away, so I started thinking about riding home when something screamed so loud it darn near made me fill my pants. It sounded like some lady was out there getting killed. A million thoughts went through my mind as I climbed down out of that stand. Should I get down and help her? I thought it wasn't my fault that she
was out there in the middle of nowhere. While my mind was telling me that I ought to be brave and go help that poor woman, my feet were already carrying me to my truck. I was half a mile from it when I realized whatever was making that sound was not human, and it was only about fifty yards away from me. Now, I kicked my eighteen year old legs into overdrive and I got myself back to the truck. Of course, my brother in law didn't hear it, so I had to endure a
lot of teasing from him over it. This area has had a lot of sightings and a lot of people have come out to investigate. These woods have it all from old river basins and swamp to sand Hill Pine, so I'm not surprised. Once I was fishing on the east side of Crescent Lake in Florida when we started hearing a loud noise coming from the bank, and we looked up in time to see a huge ten point buck jump into the water at full speed. He had at least a two mile swim ahead of him,
and he wasn't wasting time getting there. We didn't think much of it until the next year when we learned that he'd come out of the water at the other end and ran several ran through several neighborhoods, and then he went right on downtown. Considering how far he swam to get there in the three or four miles of running he did once he got out. I think something must have spooked him pretty bad. I'm just glad whatever it was didn't come
out of the woods and come after us. After thirty years of connecting the dots and applying them to what that evangelist said that day, I have some theories on what Bigfoot and dog men and even aliens are. I believe they will all tie into the time of the rapture. For now, I believe no Christian can be hurt by them. But as we get closer and closer to the end of days, we will see more and more of them, and I truly believe Christians at least will all come to realize how truly demonic
some of these creatures are. Well, I don't know. I better just hold my tongue on these Pentecostal charismatic evangelists. Man, they get so carried away. I've actually heard some of them one time when I was I was twelve or thirteen, and I went to a private school in Memphis. At that time, bussing had started, and my dad he hated it. He did not want us kids riding the bus halfway across Memphis just to go to another school because it was a political cultural thing to do, which I had
nothing to do with that. I just went wherever my folks told me to go. So we went to a private school. Well, at that time, all the private schools in Memphis were just loaded up with people. You couldn't get into one, and so they got us into a school that was just the first one they could find to get us into. And it was a good school. I liked going to school there. But it was a
church school. It was a school started by a local charismatic church. I think it was the Assemblies of God Denomination, and we would have these assemblies on Wednesday that I think they called it. Chapel. Was not a particularly religious person. I wasn't raised in a religious home, and I'm not religious now. I remember the speaking in tongues thing, and all the kids who
went to church there, they went to church and the school. Many at the end of these services they would have these I think they call them altar calls, and these kids would start gibber jabberin and stuff like that, and I remember thinking, I want to see if I can do that. So you would go into another room. It was like a prayer room. And I'm not criticizing any of this. I'm just so please, don't think that's where I'm going. But I thought i'd go in there, and I actually
tried it two or three times. I even went on Wednesday night to the church services to see what it was all about with some friends, and I would go into the prayer room and I tried and tried and tried to do that gibber jabber language and I couldn't do it. And finally, this evangelist that was in town. I would say his name, but he was a he was an ex professional football player and he had turned evangelist and he was
in that charismatic movement and he came around. He was going around talking to people and he was like touching them and they would start shaking, and they were talking tongues and all this stuff. And he was coming to me, and I was like, all right, man, here we go and we'll get to do this. And he got in front of me and he he prayed, and he kind of kind of popped me on the head and nothing, and he goes, you're gonna you're gonna speak in tongues. Do you
really want to speak in tongues? I'm like, yeah, yeah, I want to. He tapped me on the head again and nothing. I just sat there and looked at him. He goes, can you feel it, BECU is it coming? Is the Holy Spirit gonna consume you? And I'm like, I don't think so. And he moved on to another person. And there were four or five of us guys there that kind of hung around together, and it was the same one with all of us, and I just thought it was funny. But uh, I'm not criticizing it. I've
just never talked in tongues. There's some people who are not in charismatic denominations who believe that the people that do speak in tongues that it's genuine. I don't really know. I really don't know, and I don't quite understand the purpose of it. I know that it's a thing that happened in the Book of Acts, and my personal belief is that it went on in the early Church and it was there to be a sign for other people to know that
Christians were set apart. There's a whole theology behind all of the gifts, the gifts of the Holy Spirit that people would just eat me alive explaining it to me. And I'm not getting into a religious discussion here, but that was my experience with a charismatic evangelist, and I've always looked back on it and kind of laughed at it. He couldn't get me to talk in tones. But this was a great story. And I don't know about the end
of times. I don't think anybody knows anything. There's a lot of theories around about how it's all going to go down, but I don't think any of us really know. I think we just need to look for the one who came and paid the debt for us, and that's good enough. I think that's good enough. John. Thank you for that story. It was awesome. Okay, this man doesn't say whether to us his name or not, so I won't, but here's what he writes. My property butts up
against the six thousand, five hundred and fifty acre state park. There's a three thousand, three hundred and sixty acre lake in the park created by Damn that I can see from my backyard. Around late December, the park was like a ghost town. There are always a few diehard hikers and a few people who walk their dogs on the roads and the trails, but mostly it's empty. And devoid of activity. I'm a bigfoot researcher, and I had
a strong feeling about a spot in one of the empty picnic areas. Occasionally caught eyeshine there that I knew wasn't from a deer. Their eyes glow orange. It was too scattered to be a raccoon or any other small critter, so I decided to try and draw out whatever was back there. I have a very bright headlamp with a red strobe light on it that I thought might peak their curiosity. So one night, around eleven PM, I drove out to the picnic area, turned off my car and all my lights, and
I began to red strobe the woods. Periodically, I switched the strobe to spotlight to see if anything was looking. I didn't see anything until about the fourth time. I switched the spotlight and turned it on a small hollow that was back in the trees, and I couldn't believe what I was looking at. There were at least fourteen pairs of eyes looking my way. Some were real high and some were mid tree height, and a few were low to
the ground. The two higher groups periodically moved behind what I assumed was a tree and then they peered out again. The lower ones blinked every now and then, but otherwise they stayed right where they were. I felt an intense fear come over me that I couldn't explain. I was watching those eyes to my left, but to my right were dense woods that made me feel exposed. A leaving seemed like the right thing to do at that moment. Naturally,
I couldn't let it go. So the next night I went back to the area with my strobe light and I repeated the technique that I had used the night before. This time I didn't see anything where I had searched before, but to the left of that I saw two large red circles glowing. I focused the light on them, but they stayed consistent. There was no blinking or movement of any kind. It must have been something the part placed there. I thought maybe it was a grill or a trash can with red
reflectors on it, But why I seen it the night before. My curiosity was up. So I watched them intently, waiting for some sort of movement, and finally they went out and then came right back on. They were eyes. I was absolutely certain they had to be eyes, But they were so big and far apart, and I continued to watch them, but they didn't blink again. I kept staring, and they kept staring back. I estimate that it was one hundred and fifty feet away, so my headlamp wasn't
so bright enough to make out a figure. As I sat there watching those eyes, that feeling that I needed to leave came over me again. It shocked me because I hadn't heard anything. It was totally silent, but it was powerful enough that it couldn't be ignored. Now, I'm not suicidal, So I left, and as I drove around the circle of the parking lot,
I kept my light fixed on those eyes and they never moved. The next day, I decided that this was something to be investigated further, so I went into the woods during the day, and I found a lot of tree talk. This is to say I found a lot of things. They assemble out of tree branches and sticks. They were all wound together and held close into amazingly complex structures. Well, at this point, I was convinced
that I was not seeing a normal animal's eyeshine. I started to think that there must be a community of bigfoot or something back in those woods, and by red strobing the trees, I had gotten them all wound up. I figured the red eyed thing was not happy about it, but this was way too close to what I looked for to let it be. That night, I went back, and this time I brought a very powerful flashlight with me.
With the window rolled down, I began to scan the tree line again, but at first I didn't see anything, and then out of nowhere I spotted two large, very deep red eyes picking around from behind a tree. They were a lot larger and redder than the eyes I had seen previously, and they were a lot further apart. I kept my light on them and I watched in amazement as they shifted from one side of the tree to the
other. Soon they started to come farther out from behind the tree and move forward, and then they would move back to the tree and look out again from side to side. Now, whatever it was, it was emitting a feeling of intense anger and frustration, and even with a more powerful light, I couldn't make out more than a dark, hooking form. Its shoulders were massive, they were six feet up of the tree it was behind, but
it came out and it rushed forward and it looked much taller. It was definitely extremely angry with me for causing such pandemonium in its group, and it wanted to rush me, but it didn't because of the consequences of that action might bring. The anger it was projecting was overwhelming, and I decide I had cost enough grief for this group, so I slowly pulled away and left the area, keeping my light on just in case. Since that night,
I've only been back out there during the day. Now, I've gone into the woods, but from a different point. Once I heard just for a second some samurai chatter, and even though I quickly turned my head, I never saw anything. The chatter was followed by the most violent and loud wood knocks across the other side of the woods that I have ever heard. This whole thing has been quite an adventure. One more thing, Bigfoot isn't the
only strange creature in those woods. Recently, my friend and I witnessed a family of water creatures. They kept moving in and out of the water and watching us. And then there was a day that I was watching four doughs in my backyard and something shot out of the woods like a bullet and took off after the biggest dough. It could only have been a dog man. It moved so fast that it was just a blur, and it seemed to
pull itself along by its front arms, not legs, ORMs. It moves so fast that the other three deer watched the other dough run, but they never ran. They just stood there as if to say, what got into Mabel? Oh, that was a good story. You know. It is rare, very very rare that I get emails from genuine bigfoot researchers. Honestly, I don't think many of the real bigfoot researchers like me very much because
they think I make up all these stories and put them up. But this is actually an email from a bigfoot researcher, and this is a This is an fascinating story, I mean, and it seems credible to me. He goes out night after night after night. He's not claiming any spectacular things that seem unbelievable. It seems quite believable to me. I mean, this thing, you know, it didn't attack him. He didn't actually see the full detail of the tree. Sure, he's very very descriptive on what he saw,
and he's looking for patterns. Is what he is, and he's trying to find out where they are and what they're doing. So I want to tell this researcher thank you for sending this. This is very interesting and I appreciate it. The man who sent this email absolutely wants to be anonymous, but here's what he writes. My father has told me this story many times in my life. He said it happened when he was ten years old, so that would have been around nineteen fifty eight. Back then, he would
often go hunting with my grandfather and what he called bod Cow Bottoms. I assume that's what's known as bod Cow Wildlife Management Area east of Shreveport, Louisiana. My grandfather would park on an old dirt road and they'd each head out on opposite sides of the road to hunt, and then they'd meet back at the truck around noon unless one of them shot a deer. Now, listen,
you folks from around report bod Cow. I don't know if I'm pronouncing that right, but that's the way it's going to be in this podcast. So let's get back to the story. One morning, they parked as usual and Dad headed to his favorite stump. A few hundred yards away. There was only moonlight to the lightest way, but otherwise it was pretty dark out. As he reached the stump, he heard something rustling in the thick brush nearby. That was a good sign, he thought, maybe it was a
deer. He quietly settled down on the stump and began to prepare himself for a successful day, and then the smell hit him. It was a nasty, wet, dog skunky smell that was overwhelming enough to reach down into his throat and tickle his gag reflex. Dad jumped up and spun around, looking for the source of the odor. He scanned the brush all around him until he saw a pair of glowing red eyes fifteen feet away. They were six feet off the ground, but whatever they were attached to was hidden in the
thick brush. He could make out a vague form, but nothing else. He stood there staring at those eyes for a second, trying to figure out what he was looking at, and before he could decide what it was, it growled a low, menacing growl at him. That was enough for Dad. The hunt was over as far as he was concerned, and he beat a quick retreat back to the truck. Later, When my grandfather returned to the truck, he found my dad sleeping in the lock cab. My grandfather
was a no nonsense World War II marine. He wasn't amused by my Dad's explanation for his shortened hunt, and they relied heavily on game they hunted, in the food they grew themselves to feed the family. But in his eyes, Dad had fallen short of his duties. Dad never saw more than a pair of eyes and a large shadow, but that and the awful smell were enough to convince him of what it was. He's been gone for nearly seven years now, and what I will didn't give to hear him tell that story
to me one more time. I loved spending time with my father outdoors, and some of my greatest memories are from those times. In the late nineteen seventies, Dad and one of my uncles leased a property for deer hunting in northeast Texas. I was probably five or six at the time. The cabin on the lease sat on a hill with a large field around it that was in turn surrounded by woods. As far as I could see. Dad and my uncle would get up early to hunt, and they would leave me and
my cousin at the cabin to sleep or play. My cousin thought it was great to sleep in on the screened in torch at night. We'd sit up all night with our backs to the wall, listening to the howls and screams and yells that my uncle insisted were coming from the Boggy Creek Monster. Years later, I figured that we were probably hearing coyotes. Whatever it was,
it sure made the nighttime trips to the outhouse interesting. I had never had an actual run in with Bigfoot or dog Man or any other cryptid when I was out in the woods, but I did have one thing happen to me. It isn't as exciting as a cryptid encounter, but I'll never forget it. Sometime in the mid nineteen eighties, I was visiting my aunt and uncle in Bozure City for a few weeks to spend time with my cousins. I passed my four year old cousin's room as I was walking down the back hallway
on my way to the bathroom. The light was on and there were toys scattered all over the floor. And sitting in the middle of those toys with a toy truck. Between his legs was a shadow in the perfect shape of a little boy. I stopped and gasp when I saw it, which made it look up at me, and then it vanished right before my eyes. I was excited to be able to say I saw a ghost. My aunt later told me that a small boy who lived in the house years earlier had
gotten sick and died in that room. She was always a kidder. So I have no idea if that story is true or not, but I know what I saw. That is a great little series of stories. Now he's never run into a bigfoot, but his father, and he loved his daddy. I mean, you can just hear it in the way he writes. He loves his father and he misses his dad, and he remembers those stories in great detail. I get that I miss my dad. My dad died back in I can't even remember what year he died, Oh seven six or
oh seven? Maybe I love my dad. I love spending time with him. I could tell all kinds of stories he told me, but they're not they're not a monster stories, so I probably won't share them here. And then he sees a ghost, and I love these ghost stories. Oh please send ghost stories if you have them. They're so interesting. I know, for five years this channel has been all about monsters and bigfoots and dog men, but ninety five percent of the stories are about bigfoot by I love the
ghost story. So if you guys, please send me ghost stories. I love them, or any anything creepy, anything weird. It's interesting to me, and I'll put it on the podcast. I guarantee you so. Anyway, thanks to the gentleman who wishes to be anonymous for sending this because it was an awesome set of stories. I really appreciate it. All right,
thanks for listening to this podcast. I really appreciate you. You know you guys can also listen on a podcast app if you have an Apple phone or an Android Android phone, where you can use Spotify any of the iHeart any of the other podcast apps. Switch over there. Hey, any of you Apple users, a good review would be awesome. I don't use Apple products, so I don't know what it looks like, but I hear other podcasters say that if you'll leave a good review, it helps with the Apple ratings.
Not sure how that works, but if you use an Apple podcast, maybe Lee give me a good review five star thumbs up. Whatever Apple Podcast does, i'd appreciate that. All Right, you guys have a good one, and well hopefully i'll have another one up this week. Thanks, see you next time.