Archive 218 Sasquatch Encounters

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Archive 217 Bigfoot Stories

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Archive 216 Bigfoot Stories

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Archive 215 Interview with a Bigfoot Survivor

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Beware The Devil's Knot - Dogman
In the rural Truman County of the 1940s, the Dumeyer family—Will, Georgia, and their children Bobby and young Cassandra—lived on a farm bordering the eerie Devil's Knot, a dense, legend-shrouded hollow said to swallow people whole. Will, a fearless hunter, returned from World War II only to face bizarre attacks on their livestock: a massive, bipedal canine-like creature tore apart animals and left enormous tracks. On the opening day of deer season in 1947, Will ventured into the Knot and vanished, leaving Georgia increasingly unhinged as she reported werewolf assaults to skeptical authorities. The community searched everywhere but the Knot, fueling rumors that Will fled his "crazy" wife. Years later, 12-year-old Bobby, burdened with farm chores and known for school pranks, took a risky shortcut through the Knot to reach home before dark, believing his father's spirit protected him. One winter evening, after detention, he returned to find his seven-year-old sister Cassi missing from school. Defying his terrified mother's pleas, Bobby entered the Knot unarmed to search for her, instructing Georgia to alert the sheriff. Deputies followed but found only echoes, glowing red eyes, and unearthly growls in the suffocating darkness. As hope faded, a rifle shot rang out, followed by a howl and Cassi's blood-soaked emergence, whispering only, "He saved me." Bobby was never seen again. The tragedy shattered the family: Georgia and a mute, haunted Cassi were institutionalized, the farm sold, and the Knot's legends swelled with the Dumeyers' names. Tales spread of a protective Bobby—bloodied ghost with a rusted rifle—who guides lost children who call to him. Decades on, journalist Chig Chesterfield, interviewing elderly survivor Gordon Hightower for a Halloween story, uncovers these truths. At 12, Chig himself dared the Knot on a campout dare, emerging shaken after a spectral Bobby led him through horrors, forever binding him to the legend.

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Archive 214 Bigfoot

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Archive 213 Bigfoot

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Bigfoot vs Salt Water Croc
As a tall young man (6'7", size 17 shoes) hiding behind a tree stump in the Australian bush, the narrator witnesses three massive, muscular Yowies—hulking, ape-like creatures—ambush and brutally dismember an old gray kangaroo, ripping off its legs as trophies. The two smaller Yowies fight savagely over the limbs, their blows shaking the ground, until a towering elder Yowie intervenes with a thunderous roar that terrifies the narrator. It bashes their heads together and kicks one into a vast billabong teeming with 25-foot saltwater crocodiles. The submerged Yowie grapples a massive croc, punching it and enduring bites to its leg and hand, before its kin join the fray. They smash the reptile's skull, snap its jaws, and tear it apart—ripping off tail, legs, and guts to devour on the spot. Drawn by the blood, more crocs swarm, prompting the Yowies to haul away chunks of meat and vanish into the bush with earthquake-like thuds. In shock, the narrator emerges to compare a Yowie footprint to his own—far larger and wider—and notes the surviving crocs feasting on the remains. He's encountered Yowies elsewhere, viewing them as magical beings. Local Aboriginals share lore: Yowies are ancient earth guardians and "brothers" to Indigenous people, capable of deep familial love, though "tribal" ones are cannibalistic. They recount a tragic origin for the Yowies' hatred of reptiles: centuries ago, a playful young Yowie lost its leg to a giant lizard in a billabong, sparking a deadly clash that killed two adults—including a mother mummified embracing her child—igniting an eternal feud with crocs and lizards.

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Archive 212 Bigfoot

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Is It Safe To Camp These Days?
In 2015, a father and his son were tent camping while hunting in South Central Colorado. Despite failed propane heaters due to high elevation, they stayed warm sharing a sleeping bag over their cots during a chilly night in the upper 20s, with a low-lit Coleman lantern hanging nearby for safety. Around midnight, the son woke his father to report heavy breathing outside the tent. Grabbing his 9mm, the father listened intently, estimating the creature's height at about 10 feet based on the sound's angle. It circled the tent, joined by a second one approaching from another direction, their presence casting shadows just before the lantern. Terrified, the father shouted "No! No! No!" to assert their presence. The creatures halted and retreated with unusually light footsteps. Come morning, a thorough search revealed no tracks in the frost-covered grass. The father describes it as the most frightening night of his life, with the visitors' identity forever a mystery.

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Dinosaurs by Tom Franklin
From the collection of short stories: Poachers by Tom Franklin
Author Page:
https://www.amazon.com/stores/Tom-Franklin/author/B001IXRUHY?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2&qid=1760714984&sr=8-2&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true&ccs_id=73e0685b-ba8b-44aa-a347-4ebd6a8e2ec6

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Texas Dogman
After 25 years in Alaska, where the narrator immersed himself in the rugged wilderness—from the Arctic Pipeline to the Aleutian Islands and gold mines—developing a passion for cryptids, they spent over five years earning the trust of tribal elders. These elders shared ancient encounter stories, histories of elusive creatures, and even passed down a Woolly Rhinoceros tooth from a hunt in the late 1600s or early 1700s. Alaska's extremes brought thrilling wildlife sightings, like cooperative black bears raiding dumps and moose wandering urban streets, evoking Jack London adventures. Seeking warmer climes, the narrator relocated to a lush, open suburb in East Texas—137°F milder than Alaska's winters—only to discover cryptids thriving amid the greenery and barking dogs that suddenly fall silent at night. One afternoon, after a doctor's visit in a one-story office complex, their service Jack Russell Terrier grew agitated, pulling on the leash before freezing and trembling violently. As the narrator knelt to comfort the shaking dog, an unnatural silence descended—like a shadow blocking sound—accompanied by a foul, inexplicable odor. Remaining still, they waited it out until birds and frogs resumed chirping, and the presence lifted. In the soft mud nearby, a massive footprint appeared: longer and wider than the narrator's size 13 shoe (which barely dented the earth), ending in three deep claw marks from a heavy, narrow foot. Photos sent to Alaskan hunter friends yielded no identification. Locals whisper of similar run-ins with 10- to 12-foot-tall beasts, dubbing this a "Dogman." The narrator teases more harrowing tales for the brave-hearted. A devoted fan of the channel, they praise the host's non-judgmental, enthusiastic narration of such bewildering experiences, plus the joyful glimpses of farm life—chickens, dogs, roosters, and drone views—that brighten their housebound days due to disability. Grateful to have survived, they urge vigilance: always stay alert to live and share your stories.

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Archive 211 Bigfoot

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Ghosts Haunt a Transmission Shop
In 2000, a mechanic opened a transmission repair shop in Summerville, adjacent to an automotive shop run by his friend Keith. With help from his nephew Raymond during the day and a friend at night, the business ran smoothly until eerie events began: a shadowy black animal darted past him one morning, tools clattered to the floor inexplicably, and the air carried scents of women's perfume and pipe tobacco. Loud bangs echoed against the building, but investigations revealed nothing. As disturbances intensified, the owner’s night helper, Benne, refused to return alone after witnessing a man in a burgundy shirt watching him through a mirror and causing a car lift to malfunction before mysteriously lowering itself. Keith revealed the building's long-haunted resident, a ghost named Henry, whose presence had plagued the site for 20 years. The nephew soon reported similar shadows and noises while working on his race car, and even a visiting friend glimpsed a vanishing figure. The hauntings peaked with physical sensations—a breath on the narrator's neck, a tug on his pocket—and bizarre echoes, like muffled arguments mimicking a customer's dispute. After a year of unrelenting chills, the owner closed the shop and relocated, but decades later, retired and passing by the old building, he still recalls Henry with a shiver.

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Oklahoma Bigfoot Nine Feet Tall
Born in 1965 in eastern Oklahoma, he grew up immersed in outdoor life, hunting and fishing with family and best friend Slick. In early spring, they camped in the remote Blue Mountains for a fishing trip. After a quiet first night disturbed by rustling outside their truck, they fished all day but felt watched on the return hike. Hearing knocks from a bluff and rocks splashing into the creek, with a treetop swaying inexplicably, they fired warning shots into the wall and fled to their vehicle, convinced they'd encountered something like Bigfoot, though they saw no figure. At age 12, visiting his brother at a logging camp in Oregon's Monmouth mountains, the narrator spotted enormous, fresh 20-inch barefoot prints in the dusty road while heading to town. Local loggers, familiar with such tracks and even sightings of the creatures, confirmed the phenomenon, leaving the boy terrified and plagued by nightmares for days. In summer 1993, fishing a bass tournament on Greenleaf Lake in Arkansas amid dense woods and military land, the narrator and his brother spotted a massive shadow in shallow water under moonlight. It growled deeply, plowed through the water creating a huge wake, and crashed ashore, barreling uphill through timber like a bulldozer—estimated at nine feet tall. The next day, they found large impressions on the bank and trailed broken arm-thick limbs snapped at seven feet high for 300 yards. Certain it wasn't a bear but a curious Sasquatch, the narrator keeps the story secret to spare his young sons fear while hunting locally.

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Archive 210 The Wart Forest and Bigfoot

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The Old Man Haunted by Bigfoot
In a smoky Nashville bar, the Jim buys a beer for the elderly, down-on-his-luck Samuel, a monthly regular living frugally on Social Security in a rooming house. Spotting Samuel's hunger, the narrator orders him food and invites him to join at his table. Over burgers and beers, the narrator introduces himself as Jim from Louisville, fresh from hurricane repair work in Florida. Samuel, born and raised in North Carolina's mountains, opens up about why he left his beloved home at 21—not for war or lack of work, but for a darker reason. Eager for steady pay during scarce times, young Samuel joined a logging company, impressing the foreman with his marksmanship and landing a job as an armed deputy enforcing land evictions on mountain families. Shunned by his community for aiding the bosses, Samuel grew isolated. The story's climax came during the third attempt to evict the reclusive Prater clan from their ancient 1,800-acre forest homestead, led by the fierce Mammy Prater. Using kidnapped six-year-old Jenny as leverage, the deputies arrived to collect weapons and demand departure. The Praters complied eerily, gathering to unleash a haunting, high-pitched chant that summoned massive, hairy ape-like beasts from the woods. The creatures slaughtered the entire eviction party in a frenzy of boulders, gunfire, and gore, sparing only Samuel after Mammy declared him a "token" to flee and never return or speak of it. Traumatized, Samuel was forever exiled from his home and family. Years later, tears in his eyes, he shares the tale with the narrator, who leaves unsettled—haunted by nightmares of the impossible horror, unsure if he believes it but forever changed by the old man's quiet burden.

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Police Attacked by Paranormal Entity
In the mid-1990s, a night-shift police officer in a quiet small town completed his routine checks and parked near the Masonic Lodge and church just after midnight to finish paperwork. Suddenly, he felt a violent impact jolt his patrol car, shifting it several feet forward and four feet sideways into the road, scattering his belongings. Stepping out, he found no other vehicle, no damage, no tire marks, and utter silence—leaving him stunned and unable to report the impossible event. He vowed never to park there again, haunted by the sensation of an unseen force hurling his cruiser aside. Years later, in the late 1990s, two officers at the town police station before midnight watched a vintage hippie van pull up, from which emerged a young couple dressed in flawless 1960s attire—tie-dye, fringe, and bell-bottoms—who spoke with era-perfect slang. Politely asking for directions to a nearby town, they received a hand-drawn map and left smiling. As the younger officer rushed to return their forgotten directions, he reached the door mere seconds later—only to find the couple, van, and all traces vanished without a sound or mark on the dew-kissed pavement, defying any natural explanation. Both encounters, shared openly among the officers, remain vivid and inexplicable, etching a sense of the uncanny into their memories and reinforcing the town's eerie undercurrents.

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Scott Hendrix Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Scott-Hendrix/author/B09ZLMQP1N?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true&ccs_id=f8705893-ce3c-4e50-9014-cbd87482ebef

The Breakout by Scott Hendrix
In the summer of his tenth year, young Henry Mason wanders into the barn of the gruff old fisherman known as Chief, sparking an unlikely friendship. Intrigued by the boy's curiosity and appalled that he's never fished, Chief teaches Henry the art of fly casting with rhythmic hand claps and patient guidance. Soon, they share euphoric mornings on the lake, anchoring near a gnarled underwater branch where the scent of bedding bluegill fills the air. Henry's first catch—a shimmering bluegill—hooks him forever, and they fish together for years, forging a bond like father and son. Years later, after college, Henry returns home eager to reunite with Chief, only to learn he's confined to a nursing home. Spotting the frail man gazing longingly at a pond, Henry shares tales of Montana trout fishing, evoking Chief's youthful spirit. When Chief wistfully admits his dying wish is to fish with "his boy" again, Henry hatches a daring plan. Feigning a simple outing, he wheels Chief to the car, and they escape to Chief's overgrown property, adrenaline surging like a prison breakout. Dust-covered treasures await in the barn: fly rods Chief had saved for this very hope. Rigging the canoe and Chief's favorite popping bug, they glide to the familiar spot. As Chief inhales the musty bluegill scent and casts with trembling hands, landing a fish that bends his rod, time reverses. Pride and joy light his face, fulfilling a promise sealed in a framed photo labeled "For Henry," their final cast a triumphant echo of shared beginnings.

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Archive 209 Bigfoot

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