This page doesn't seem to exist.It looks like the link pointing here was faulty. Maybe try searching? |
||||||||
[an error occurred while processing this directive]
|
August 30, 2004
Footsteps in the ForestRate this encounter: Jimmy, Hooks, Texas, Fall 1983 - 1984, info@ghostvillage.comAfter reading the story about Camp Morgan, I was reminded of a thing in the woods I encountered when I was about 8 or 9 years old. A couple of neighborhood kids had 3- wheelers, and we used to ride them in the woods behind my house (off Hwy 82 for those familiar with the area). One day, the 3-wheeler I was riding ran out of gas about 1/4 mile into the forest. It was decided that I would wait with the ATV while the other two kids went to one of their houses and got a gas can. I'm not sure exactly how long I sat there but it seemed like forever. After about 10 or 15 minutes, I became aware of footsteps approaching from about 100 feet away. This was about the same time I realized that I couldn't hear any of the normal forest sounds, like birds, or the wind, or anything. Now, the trees were about 10 feet apart or so, even up to 20 feet, so it wasn't a very dense forest. Nevertheless, I never once saw what was making the footsteps. I heard the crunching leaves steadily coming toward me, and when they got about 30 feet away I really got scared. The only weapon I had was a 3-foot long stick that probably would have broken as soon as I swung it. The footsteps got within 20 feet or so and circled me once, I didn't give them a chance to circle twice. I honestly believe that I set a land-speed record on my way out. When I got to the edge of the woods, I still had to cross an open field to get to my house. Halfway there I ran into my friends, who were returning with a gas can, and the one kid's granpa was with them just in case we couldn't get the 3-wheeler started again. They went to retrieve the 3-wheeler and I sat on a little hill in the middle of the field and waited. There was no way I was going back into that forest. They all rode back out a few minutes later and they hadn't seen or heard anything unusual, but they did ask why I had left a stick on the seat of the three wheeler. I hadn't. I had thrown it in the direction of the footsteps during my heroic retreat. Someone or something had picked it up and put it there after I left. A quick note: There were a few large, barren hills in that forest that we used to dig around in and make forts on. I later found out that a Caddo Indian tribe had lived in the area back in the day. Could it be that we had disturbed some burial mounds?
|
| |