Smith Station is a small town in east central Alabama. I think on most maps today it is only listed as Smith's. It is nestled between Phenix City and Opelika. Use to be your typical little Mayberry like town in the Andy Griffith's show. I say use to be because when we first moved there us kids in the neighborhood could walk or ride our bikes anywhere. Now you would be lucky to not get run over checking your mail box. It has quite outgrown itself in population and attitude. I grew up there and watched the simple times die away. But this story is about things that happened in that small town between the lazy days and today. It was around 1985 some twenty six years ago. It is about some very bizarre events and strange activities that were found to be going on in the quiet nights.
These events were to be witnessed by three friends and myself. Today, two are dead and the other I have not seen nor heard from again after one of the events.
I will lay out the stage and explain how it all came to pass that we witnessed these things. And then from the images burned into my memory, describe these events. Events that were so bizarre we didn't even speak of them.
This story is going to take you on a drive by of the occult. It will leave you wondering about your local law enforcement. Wondering if they are law enforcement, and if they are really local. It will make you look at your woods, and perhaps feel the eyes in the shadows looking back. You will from now own listen to your pets and animals when they are trying to tell you something.
And at three in the morning when you find yourself awake, you'll wonder if what woke you up is still on the roof of your home.
These events are real, they happened...
The events I am going to tell you about all happened on a small section of road commonly called by the locals, Mullins road.
Mullins road is kinda like a business loop if you will. It turns off
of the old Opelika highway and meanders through the neighborhoods and
then comes back around to the highway. All of the events in this story
happened in the last mile and a half of the road before it dead ends
into what we would call downtown.
At this intersection the old post office would be directly to your
left. Across the intersection and slightly to the right would be the
grocery and drug stores. Directly to your right would be the Smith
Station Baptist church.
Turn around now in your head, as we move down the way at about two
tenths of a mile through to about four tenths of a mile, the Smith
Station High school would be on your left. Just at the gymnasium at the
end of the four tenths of a mile, there is a road on your left that use
to just go down hill to the little league ball field. At that time this
road ended there with just dirt parking areas up to the wood lines.
If we proceed back down Mullins road, on the left is about a two block
area of woods. Then there is another church. After the church it is all
woods for about a half a mile. After the woods it opens up to a pasture
filled with pecan trees all in straight rows. At one mile and six
tenths you would find the Philadelphia Baptist church on the left. This
church will be a major player in this story.
From the turn off to the little league fields to the end of the woods
is all straight road, you can see from one end to the other. Just as the
woods end the road bends in a long slow turn to the Philadelphia
church. Right there where the pasture starts you can see, through the
pecan trees the back side of that church. And obviously as you come
around the turn you are at the front of the church.
On the opposite side of the woods in that straight away was one home
near the road and one that was set quite a ways back with maybe a
quarter of a mile between them. That was all at the time.
If you were now to leave the Philadelphia Baptist church and head back
towards downtown at about four tenths of a mile, right about where the
woods start near the end of the pasture, you would have seen a clear
dirt section on the right, between all the grass. A pull off if you
will. Probably the only spot on that road in this section that one could
pull off on the shoulder.
I use to not pay it any attention, but now I can not go by it without looking and wondering.
Now that I have introduced the story
and tried at my best to illustrate the stage, I will tell the story. A
story that gets more bizarre each night. A story that at first was just
innocent curiosity that lead to detailed investigation. An investigation
that only produced more questions than answers. We would find that we
were not outside looking in. We were in fact right smack dab in the
middle of it all. Much like the eye of a hurricane, one can stand there
with sunshine and calm wind and be completely oblivious that you are
encased in a storm. We were not the observers. We were not the
investigators. We in fact would find that we were the one's being
observed and investigated. And there are to this day no answers, only
more questions. But in an not so abrupt way, we were told to look no
more. Be as the rest of the neighborhood. Go home watch TV, turn the
lights off and go to sleep.
So now after twenty six years, as my memory tends to fade. I feel it's
time to tell this story. A story most will not believe. Hell I would
not believe it myself. But I was there. I saw it. I lived it. Sadly two
of my friends who could verify the events are now dead. One other, I
believe was so traumatized that I have never heard from him again.
These events seem to be all non related, but in some strange way they
are. They all, after all, happened on this small stretch of road. This
one and a half mile piece of quiet road. A road that nearly every
resident of this town used daily. A road on which as a child rode my
bike alone many times.
As I tell this story I beg your forgiveness before hand on the exact
time line. I had notes. I had started a journal. But it finally got to
where the journal had become my first mistake. For the journal would
show what I had seen and how much I knew. There comes a point where one
can know too much. Trust me. To this day I do not sleep without help
from the bottle. Whiskey may numb but it doesn't dumb, it doesn't make
you forget. I have tried to go to sleep without it. I have tried to
through exhaustion to just pass out. But as I lay there on the bed, I
began to hear the buzzing. I began to see the shadows move. My heart
pounds through my chest and the sweat begins to bead upon my forehead
and roll down the sides of my face. Still laying there with some kind of
light on. Yes I have to keep some kind of light on some where. God
forbid if there is no power. But I have that all planned out as well. I
keep candles on hand, piles of candles. And if there is wind I have an
oil lamp in every room. I also have the hurricane lanterns that wind
won't blow out. As well I keeps gallons and gallons of fuel for them. I
would think that after that I would not have to mention the flash lights
and batteries. So for now it's the whiskey and an endless supply of
illumination. And if I wake up at night...more whiskey.
I would also beg forgiveness for some of the language used. But when I
get to the events, I want to describe them as accurately as possible.
The time line may be distorted, but the events are burned into my grey
matter. The time may be floating on that river of whiskey, but those
events will not sink away. I must also tell you that my personal
accounts go much deeper and is a life long chapter. For this, The Smith
Station story is only going to be the events that were witnessed by
friends. Although they are no longer here, the fact that at least some
one else saw these events gives validation to my personal sanity. To
know I was not alone, to know that bizarre was still bizarre. Because it
was beginning to become normal for me. To be able to look at some one's
eyes and see the astonishment in their face. It let me know that yes,
this was real and it was not normal.
It is my hopes that in writing this story that some one comes forward.
Some one that perhaps witnessed these events from another angle. Or
even perhaps those that were there. You people that we were watching.
Maybe now after all these years it would be okay to come forward and
tell me just what the hell was going on. And who are you? Or is it what
I do not know if the Smith Station events continue today or not.
Perhaps some one who still lives there today can contact me and let me
know. My contact tab at the top of the page will provide my email. And
if you have info I will come to you. God what I would give to have had a
cell phone and digital camera back then. But anyone in the town of
Smith's pick a night. Any Tuesday or Thursday night. Yes it must only be
Tuesday or Thursday. Go outside at 9:55 pm. And at exactly 10 pm the
crickets go silent, the night goes dead. And listen, just listen as the
dogs throughout the town as far as you can hear, began to howl. If this
is still happening, immediately go back into your home. Lock the door if
you want to, but it does no good. Turn your television up louder and
pour yourself a night cap. Do not go looking...they look back.
This is going to be about me. A little
back ground on who I am. To provide an understanding of how I got to
where I am now. Mostly it is about validation, validation of my sanity.
It is to show that I am a smart, intelligent person with an analytical
mind. I operate on pure logic. But that logic would find itself
shattered and thrown about.
As I said I grew up in Smith Station. I went to Smith Station
Elementary school. I went to Smith's junior high, which at the time was
called Wacoochee Junior High. I went to and graduated Smith Station High
school. All seemingly typical for a small town. But looking back, not
so typical for me.
I found that we all live in bubbles, so to speak. And since inside the
bubble is all we see and know, we assume it's all normal. I found
myself outside the bubble. That is where I lived, between all the
bubbles. But that was my normal, that is what I saw and knew. It was not
until I was grown and looking back did I realize how different the two
Things began to change for me in the fifth grade. Well at least that's
where I remember things changing. I was in Ms Lynch's class.
( I do not know what's going on with the computer right now with the
spacing. But every time I try and correct it, it gets worse.
So I am just going to keep typing through all of it. Maybe it will
correct itself later and this statement will be a non issue. Maybe it's
the story). But it was in Ms Lynch's class where we were all in reading
groups. Little groups that would sit together and read out loud. I was
in the slow group, I knew that and I could tell the difference. But I
was shy, extremely shy and did not like the reading out loud.
One day Ms Lynch came over and handed me a book. She said, Eddie take
this book home and read it. I took it home and read it that night, all
of it. It seems I could read really well, just enunciating while I was
reading was a problem. And of
course being shy didn't help either. I believe she knew that. I brought
the book back the next day and told her I had finished it. She said good
and proceeded to ask me questions about the book. After that she handed
me another book and said same thing.
With each book I read she would just verbally quiz me
and give me another to read. I went through all the text books, fifth
grade, sixth grade and finally she just began taking me to the library
to get books. I never remember being in a reading group again. I was in a
different bubble. I was there, but I was now becoming outside.
The sixth grade brought me to Ms Wilder, a beautiful young woman. I
may have had a crush on her, but I was far too young for that sort of
thing. But I knew I liked her, I liked her a lot. She picked up on where
Ms Lynch had started. It was straight to the library for me. But the
elementary library was running out of books for me and they were all
just story books. Books about Daniel Boone, the California gold rush and
so on. Slightly entertaining but all useless knowledge. But Ms wilder
took me to the next level. She took me to the high school library. Oh
now things began to open up for me. I found science books. Science
became my passion, I could not get enough. And from these books I began
to learn, after all this was the big kids books, and the big kids were
So here I was in the sixth grade now reading books on astronomy,
ancient Egypt, Easter island. By the way I applaud the author of the
Easter island book for being able to write nine hundred pages of
nothing. The more science I read the more I craved. It was chemistry and
physics and biology more more more. Did I read some things I didn't
understand? Occasionally, but it didn't matter. I was downloading before
there was downloading. I don't even know what Ms. Wilder taught, but I
learned more that year than ever before. My hunger for knowledge only
grew. I think it was that summer I read the encyclopedia Britannica,
volumes A through Z. This was back when they were actual books. It was
the 1963 version and it's almost comical now at how much stuff was wrong
I did notice Ms Lynch and Ms Wilder would have little meetings. Maybe
they were just friends and were talking chit chat. But they were always
staring at me. I wasn't paranoid or anything. And I didn't mind Ms.
Wilder looking at me, after all, I liked her, I liked her a lot.
The seventh grade brought me to Ms. French. I know I had a crush on
her. Because those little hormone makers were now beginning to work. And
she was a science teacher, the perfect mix. She routinely graded my
test A++ and put a smilely face on them. I liked her smiles, both of
them. I so enjoyed her classes, to talk science, and well just sit and
look at her. I continued reading every book, magazine and journal I
could find on science. Her class didn't really teach me anything but it
was refreshing to go over stuff I had read. And some of the things I
downloaded into my head began to make more sense.
The only thing I found odd this year was on one of my test that was
graded A++. As I was looking over it I found that I had made a careless
mistake. I had run through checking answers so fast that I had checked
the wrong one. I took it up to Ms French to show her I had got one of
the answers wrong. She said it's okay, you still know the right answers.
The eighth grade brought me to Coach Bonds. No I did not have a crush
on him, but his wife was smoking hot. I vaguely remember any classes.
This seemed to be a physical year for me. Up to this point I had no
coordination what so ever. I could not walk and chew gum at the same
time. But Coach Bonds got me into sports with his enthusiasm for them.
He got me into running and weight training, and for the first time I
began to enjoy doing more physical activities. And it was one of those
days we were playing soccer. The ball got kicked way into the woods. I
ran to get it and found the mother load. There was a ravine in there
that was full of books. This was more books than I had ever seen. It was
new books, old books even books we were currently using. Apparently the
school system was just dumping books. But this was great for me. I was
able to get and read all the text books I was going to use in high
school. I had a jump start on any class I was to take.
The same book we were using in social studies, were in piles at this
book dump. (Why do we waste our children's minds with social studies)?
But any way I thought I would have a little fun. I got extra books and
when I was in class I began to tear out pages. I would say this is wrong
and rip the page out. This is wrong also and rip. Mr. Abraham, who
spoke with an accent of broken English came unglued. "No no no wait wait
what are you doing?" He got rather upset with me, more than I expected.
I was now facing discipline of the corporal nature. I told him it was
an extra book, but he accused me of stealing some one's book. And
destruction of school property would land me in the principles office
and a date with the paddle. I finally convinced him to come see the
dump. He was astonished.
The ninth grade brought me to Ms Lee. The biology teacher. It was a
rough start with her. I was late or her class the very first day. She
asked me why I was late. I told her I couldn't find her room. Her words
were, "I can tell you and I are not going to get along". But I was
telling the truth. This high school thing was different. Everybody went
different directions. Heck, I was use to just following every one to the
next class. But as it turned out, Ms Lee and I got along just fine.
In fact her class focused my study more on physiology. Up to this point
I could be reading geology books one day and chemistry books the next.
But this machine we wear around caught my attention. This perfect self
repairing, self propagating machine. It was a masterpiece. I started to
learn every thing I could on how this body works, and it still
fascinates me today.
The tenth grade I had Ms Lee again. She would bring me other books
that the high school just didn't have. But this year she was Ms Hamm.
Yeah she went and got married on us. But this was also the year I
started going to a college. It was an accelerated program. It was also
at nights. The class was full of grown ups and I was the only kid in
there. As it turned out I would be more of a tutor for most of them than
a student in the class. I thought that now I was taking college classes
I would finally learn something. But I spent more time correcting the
lesson. The professor would reference the book, I would bring in news
articles. The book was old, many things had changed. Finally he admitted
that right or wrong this is what we are here to learn. This is college
and I am being taught what I had learned, own my on, in the sixth grade.
I was through with this education system. I could read through the
whole program, and that's what I determined it to be, a program.
The last two years of high school I was there, bored out of my mind. I
paid no attention. Fell asleep in the classes. I took their test. I
would just make up my own answers. God forbid they allow me discussion
answers, I could talk my way through any thing. Attitude and ego had
taken over and they offered me nothing. I just continued to research on
Research and curiosity is what would eventually lead me into the
nights of Smith Station. Some things you find, you don't want to know.
Roger, the unlikely duo
I have decided to spare you with more details of my early research. But let me just say that medicine is finally starting come around. Theories and surgical procedures that I had formulated in my head are beginning to surface now. And there is hope for mankind. People do not have to suffer, and there are cures for "everything". But at the time I was told by the medical establishment "we don't need any Dr Frankenstein". Twenty five years later I see they are finally starting to do what I was trying to tell them. Although the doctors who are trying these experiments are having the same resistance from the establishment as I did. But they are producing results that can not be denied.
I do not know where some of the ideas came from. Perhaps it was all the books running together in my head. There were times I would wake up in the mornings and the information would just be there. Like I had just performed the surgery in my dreams. The gene therapy and cellular reconstruction would be fresh in my mind. But I had no lab and microscopes. It was if I had watched a movie on these new treatments. A movie that had not been made yet. But there is hope, and it's on it's way. I have seen it.
Almost right out of high school I was hired onto the Phenix City Fire Department. Roger worked there. I knew him from school, but just barely. He was older than me, I think by one year, not really sure. He was the high energy, outgoing popular type. The polar opposite of me. I always thought his sister was hot, she was my age. I doubt she ever noticed me at all. She was the popular type as well, a different world than which I lived.
At the fire department in the big city of Phenix City, that's sarcasm, there was not much to do. Obviously there was time to read. From reading about medicine to what medicine was made from. I found myself searching out info on herbs. Yes the same herbs in your kitchen cabinet. Most of the components of pharmaceuticals all start from simple plants and herbs. Many which may be right in your yard as well. This little quest was beginning to take me back in time. To the cures native Americans used. To what the pioneers used. Back back back to Hippocrates. He had said "let your food be your medicine and your medicine be your food". Therein lies the answers.
On the return trip from history, my research tried to follow the simplicity back to the present. It was fractured all over the decades. Even to the points where one would cure a fever with willow bark and then be tried for witchcraft. Aspirin is made from willow bark. It's not majic, it's science. Somewhere in our twisted social evolution, the simple things that were common knowledge, became forbidden knowledge. Forbidden knowledge was the occult. Healing some one could get you a death sentence. Still today it's the same. I heard a Dr Leonard Coldwell tell how he cures cancer, all cancer. But his treatments would land him in jail. Over thirty thousand people he has cured, many with terminal cancer. What kind of insanity do we live in? What kind of establishment would punish some one for saving a fellow human being?
Any way one tangent led to another. At times I would even read the dictionary. Not much of a story line, but it would lead me on other roads. For example when I came across the word Aceldama. The valley of blood. What? Where is this Aceldama. I had not seen it in my geographical readings. It was the land purchased by Judas with the money he received from betraying Christ. Okay to find more information on this Judas character I had to read the Bible. Not like they do in church, a verse here a verse there. Nope I read it cover to cover. I read all the begat he begat she. I read through all the stories. Quite the little soap opera going on between the lines. A lot of killing, cheating and betrayal. But I found one thing that most people seem to not catch. Probably because it's in one of those sections they don't read. I am not sure of the book sitting here writing at the moment. But there is one section that list tribe after tribe after tribe. And with each tribe it list the number of people in that tribe...and then it list the number of souls in that tribe. The numbers are different! That could only lead to one conclusion, some people do not have souls. And how do you tell which one's do? Well this threw me for a loop. Who are the soulless people that walk among us? And if there is no soul what is wearing that body? It takes a dark turn from here.
I was on the fire department for nearly three years before Roger and I actually got stationed together. We had trained together. We had fought fires together. But we had never worked at the same fire station. Finally in a rotation we found ourselves both at station four and on the same shift. Station four was the one by the park in Phenix City, Idle Hour park. By this time my research had taken me down a long dark road. I was now reading those forbidden occult books. Roger would call them the hoodoo voodoo books. He wouldn't even sit next to me if I had one out. And it didn't help that the fire station was haunted. Every time a little some thing would happen, he would blame my hoodoo voodoo books. But we could be there sitting on the sofa at night watching TV and hear the locked door open. Then hear the footsteps walking behind us. The room would fill with the smell of ammonia. And then hear whatever exit the back door. We could jump up and check the doors and they would still be locked. Strange how we can just discount things like that and just go to bed and not worry about it. But you do reach a point where the discounting, the denying, the avoiding does not work any more. Especially if you are one with an analytical mind. Logic demands answers but sometimes the answers deny logic.
Roger and I may have been polar opposites. But we found common ground. Practical jokes. We found that we were quite creative in setting up gags. From putting snap and pops under the toilet seats to buckets of water over the bathroom stalls. One night we put shaving cream on the hot phone and rang the alarm. When the Sargent answered it he smashed the shaving cream all over his face. Another night I had a gorilla suit that I had borrowed from my uncle. Roger put the suit on and went and got in the passenger seat of the fire truck. It was late and the others had gone to bed already. I set off the alarm and called the fake call in. When the Sargent jumped up into the driver seat he froze. He just sat there and did nothing. He didn't move his hands from the wheel. Roger leaned toward him and he jumped from the truck. I mean he jumped half way to the wall and was screaming like a girl. Oh my God, I was laughing so hard I almost threw up. He just kept screaming and screaming as he backed into the wall and slid to the floor. Roger climbed out the driver side and pulled the mask off. Our laughing stopped abruptly as we now thought we had a cardio event here. The practical jokes had to get toned down after that.
It was Roger that turned me on to buffalo wings. They were not as popular back then as they are now. But I am still hooked today. He took me down to Ben's Wings and Things on first avenue in Columbus Georgia. Yeah I got the extra extra hot. They were delicious. But my first time I wasn't quite sure how to eat them. As I sat there wrestling with the little forearm section, it shot like a sling shot into my eye. Oh hell, I tried to wipe it out, rinse it out nothing worked. But they were too good to stop. I sat there with tears dripping on the bar as we eat. Roger still laughing got up and moved two seats down. He said he couldn't eat with some one who cried on their food.
Ben's was on first avenue. The little store I was buying my books at was on Broad street, one street over. I convinced him to stop by there while we were so close and let me pick up another book. It was a clear sunny day. When we parked out front I told him to roll up the windows. He was like why? Trust me I said. About thirty seconds after I entered the store it was raining. It had become a pattern. No matter the weather, when I entered this store it would start raining. Even the owner had taken notice of this. One time I walked in and he said I wondered when you were going to show up. We've been needing some rain. Although as time went on the owner seemed to get more nervous with each visit. When I came back out Roger wanted to know how I knew it was going to rain. I told him it happens every time I go in there. He said " man you're starting to trip me out with that hoodoo voodoo shit. The trip was just beginning...
Between The Lines
Over the next several weeks I continued reading and researching this occult stuff. I found a lot of it fascinating and a lot of it just plain silly as well. I am all about science and this "hoodoo voodoo", as Roger would call it, just didn't fit within those parameters. However, it seemed to be split. It was split into two totally different directions. One, which is where I started with my research was about healing. The other was far more dark and deceptive. I guess we could say there is a good side and a bad side.
The good side, if you will, gives us info on what and how to use the earth as our healer. The use of various herbs for certain conditions. I don't know if it was for dramatic dialog or just what people actually called some things. But in these books the herbs would often have strange names. Some examples being "grave yard dust", "eye of newt", "dragon's blood" or even "bat wing". Now if some one were cooking a pot of those things to drink, we would surely think they were mad. But as it turns out these were actual herbs, natural herbs. Sometimes given these crazy names to describe what they do, or some times, I guess, to scare us away. To protect the knowledge, the hidden knowledge.
Grave yard dust, as it turns out is simply Valerian. It was said to help one get a more restful sleep make a potion from grave yard dust, "to sleep like the dead". Okay let's drop the word potion, it's a tea. There, I just brought it up to date. But following up on this it's true. If you were to run down to your local drug store and find Valerian in the supplements section. You would see it's used to help promote restful sleep. In fact every one of those seemingly insane concoctions are all in use today. Either they be in the natural foods sections, or they have been modified by the pharmaceutical industry. And these big corporations are actively trying to kill the natural foods and supplements, either through regulation or fear mongering.
"The simplicity is the most complicated part". That is my quote. That is my conclusion. That as well, is fact. God, our creator, provided everything we need here to be healthy and happy. His design, his plan, were all laid out perfectly. And theses things we knew, when we were more in touch with our world. I heard a doctor just a few weeks ago say that a mixture of ginger and honey would cure "ANY" food poisoning. No one would ever be sick again, or die for that matter from food poisoning. But the establishment would not let him prescribe this treatment. If fact he would loose his medical license for just mentioning it. What? The establishment would rather people suffer and die, than to let a simple natural remedy be used. The answer to that is, well I'm sure you know it. Look at all the food recalls over this issue, while people suffer and even die. I am proud to say the doctor prescribes it any way. He takes the chance because he believes in what he is doing, "making people well". There are good doctors out there who know these things and are fighting like hell to get the information out there. There are also good doctors who know, that have lost their license and even some in jail. Again I ask, what kind of establishment would punish those who are trying to help people?
The irony is, even in ancient Egypt some five thousand years ago people knew these things as common place. Honey as it turns out is a natural antibiotic. And everything that is natural is being actively corrupted. Every thing that was God's design is being warped. Our world is not the world it use to be. And who is causing this warp, this corruption, this deceit? Those answers lie on the other path, the dark path, the bad side.
If you were to drive home every day, the same route, the same time, the same everything. You would notice dramatic changes if there were any. But let's say there was a big familiar tree you passed each day. If that tree were to be gone one day, that would catch your attention. But if it only moved let's say a half inch a day, your brain would simply reprogram it's location. You would not notice any changes. Nothing would seem weird or out of place to you. You, after all live in the comfort of your bubble. But for some one who found them self between the bubbles, things would get noticed. And trying to figure out why no one else seems to notice would drive you insane. So eventually you try to ignore them. Just be like every body else. Try and build your own bubble.
Often we hear that we need to read the fine print. With bold headings and highlighted sentences, we loose sight of the fine print. But even there, in the fine print we are distracted. Your eyes, your mind, your life is being directed. You are being lead down a path of deceit. And from between the bubbles one can read between the lines. And there are things there, hidden in plain sight that you may not want to see. But now some one has seen and I had validation finally...
John, And now we are three
Up to this point I have tried to demonstrate that I know a little bit about things. And when I start something I try to finish it. I am methodical and diligent. I try to figure things out with an obsessive compulsion. Things have to be logical and make sense. I tried to prove that I am not crazy. I even try to prove that to myself. But now I had witnesses. Other people to share my paranoia. Other people to talk to who were there. Comfort in knowing I was not alone. Although now I am alone again.
By now you have seen that when I tackle something, I jump in with both feet. So while reading the occult books for the good stuff. I was also reading the bad. I had read the Satanic Bible by Anton Levay. What a nut job he was. I had read Magick by Aliester Crowley. Seemly a slightly brilliant man with a real twisted outlook on things. I dove into the Necronomicon, Forbidden Knowledge, King Soloman's book of the Dead, The Black Arts. The difference in the dark side is rather than use nature for healing, the dark side relies on calling up entities to do your bidding. Usually, well mostly, not good things. I had no interest in this, but I found it interesting nonetheless.
I read enough to become familiar with it. I knew the layout of the alters. I knew the words and phrases, for which I will not mention. I knew the ceremony and what they would do. Some quite sick. If I happened upon some of this I would recognize it. And it is every where. It is in your television commercials, still adds, obviously movies and not just the scary one's. It is in comedies and cartoons. I would almost discount their appearance as accidental in comedies. But cartoons are drawn frame by frame, that's no accident. Some one had to draw that thing dozens of times just for it to show up a few seconds. But the one place where it is most prevalent is in government. Yes I said government. The monuments, the symbols and even their actions.
Roger and I had began to hang out, even away from work. Every now and then he would ask me something about the books. I would brief him on the latest and we would usually laugh it away. And that would be the end of it. But Roger shared a house with John. And I guess they talked about things. John was more like me. More of a laid back type. The never get too excited type. The cool and casual. Yes for people who didn't really get to know me growing up, I am cool and casual. John was also a very likable guy. In fact he and I would become better friends than Roger and myself. Roger was still the party type. I was too busy on my little projects to party.
One day Roger came in to work and asked me was I doing any of that hoodoo voodoo. I'm like hell no. He asked again was I in the woods off Mullins road last night. Why would I be in the woods last night? He said I think you need to talk to my roommate. This was before I had met John. Why? What's going on? I think you need to talk to him about that. You sure you were not in the woods last night? He asked again. I am sure dude, I have no reason to be in the woods especially at night. I have my personal story on that. Me and the nights. But this story is only about Smith Station events that were seen by others, witnesses. Validation of my sanity. I had seen plenty while alone. I had lived the events. My life altered by these events. But they were my own little events with no one to say yes, we saw it to. I was bubble building. I was in denial. But that was about to change.
We had picked a time for all of us to get together, maybe drink a few beers. So when Roger and John showed up, I knew him. He went to Smith Station too. And he, as well, was older than me, but I am not sure by how much. As we began to talk, John described a most unusual thing. It seems John's dad lived in one of those houses on Mullins road. And yes I knew him as well. Like John, one of the nicest guys you could meet. A pillar of the community. And I can only guess he will deny all of this. But John's dad, you are what got me into this, just saying.
It seems John's dad had stepped outside one night. And as he was standing there, he heard noises from the woods across from his house. He described it as a chant-like. He said it started low and slow and built up. It got a little louder. It got a little faster. It kept building up until a girl screamed like she was being skinned alive. His words, not mine. Roger had told John about all my hoodoo voodoo books. And now John wanted to know if I knew anything about the noise in the woods. At first, me knowing Roger, I thought I was being set up for a practical joke. I said y'all get out of here, you're just yanking my chain. But John was serious. And even then I thought he was just playing the part really really well.
After he finally convinced me it wasn't a joke and he was serious about it. I'm like hell I don't know. What was the chant? If I kinda knew what was being said I could tell you. But its probably just some kids playing around. He wasn't sure, he said it was kinda muffled by the woods. Well until I can hear what was being said or maybe see where something was done I don't know. We will have to catch them in the act.
Catch them in the act. Well that was to set off a chain of events that cannot be explained. Not by any science I know. Nor can the strange activities of individuals we observed over the next couple of months be explained. Absolutely nothing will make sense of what we were to witness. Try as we did, but the more we saw, the more confusing it became. Is one event related to the other? I don't know. But they all happened in this small section of road. Are the events still going on? I don't know, I have not been back to check since the last one I will tell you about. Will I describe these events chronologically? I am certain that I will not. I am still to this day confused. But it will make you wonder, while you slumber, what kind of world exists around you at night. Or perhaps even in the day but limited to the shadows...
Out the window
I have pretty much wasted four chapters trying to redeem myself. Trying to prove I am sane. Looking at myself and my life. Reflecting on things I have been through. Knowing, just knowing that there must be a reason. These two worlds in which I live. They meet in the middle of my soul. That intersection, that oh so busy little intersection. One stop sign, but thousands of roads. Some clear and wide open. Some dark and narrow. But when life takes you for a ride, you are in the back seat, you are not in control. Your only hope is to observe, carefully. Observe where you went, so you can find your way back. Even if it means you must travel one of those dark and narrow roads again. Back to where you find comfort, back to the bubble. But for me, the bubble still often bursts. And again I find myself facing the other side. The other world.
I had seen so much before. But I was always alone. This time I had friends. Friends who were there to see as well. And if I was crazy, we all were. When I go into explaining these events, that is where your judgement begins. I already know your verdict. For if it was me, from your point of view, mine would be the same.
These events will not explain anything. They will only produce more questions. And as I had said earlier maybe some one, some one else saw too. And if that some one is out there, still. You are not alone. And for now I am still here. Contact me. Contact me any way you can. Maybe the puzzle pieces will fit and we finally get a picture. Even if it is a partial picture, it may answer something.
The next few chapters will take you into those events. The events that had witnesses. The events that strip reality from your mind. Your own safety net will be denial. Your world, your reality will not accept them. You will laugh them off. You will discount them as you do now, with your own events. For the tree you are so familiar with, is still firmly rooted to the ground your mind has it planted in.
Too late now to turn back. I am going to tell you what went on in the nights of Smith Station, Alabama. Perhaps still going on. If not Smith's but other towns. The events, like I said were real, they happened. And true to the point, life is stranger than fiction. You can not make this stuff up. And from here, as you read more and more. I see now, I know it's coming. My credibility will be out the window...
It had been a few days since we talked about the chanting sounds coming from the woods. I had thought nothing more about it. I had just concluded during the conversation that it was some kids fooling around back in there. After all, we had some crazy kids in our neighborhood. And in a small town sometimes you have to get creative to entertain your self.
But John showed up at the house again with some more bizarre information. He told me his father had gotten up one morning and found his yard littered with cats. Dead cats. About forty or more. When he saw the first one he assumed that maybe it had gotten hit by a car and wandered up into the yard to die. But then he saw more, and even more. As he collected the animals he found no apparent cause of death. But they all had the same condition. They all had blood coming from their ears and nose. Other than that, they were not mangled or damaged in any other way. Bizarre in that of it self, one would conclude it was a cruel, yet very cruel defamation of property.
Okay now you have my attention. I love animals. And I will admit it here that I love animals more than I do most people. Although here lately I am trying to spread more positive energy around. For those of you who has noticed my new lovie dovieness. Yeah, I know it's not a word. But I like saying it.
The cat thing had John thinking the chanting in the woods may be related. That maybe some kind of cult had used them for a sacrifice. But that didn't make sense to me. I had read of these sacrifices and all types of animals have been used. From chickens and doves to lambs and goats. And for the very very dark side even people. Yes some of these cults are so evil that members offer up their own children. But cats I had never heard of being used as a sacrifice. Most of the cults I had read about held the cat to high esteem. Some even worshiped the cat, or the symbol of the cat.
But this hit close to home. We had a cat. A super phenomenal cat. Her name was Shandi, and she was family. I believe she was more human than most people. I honestly also believe she understood every word spoken. Either that, or she was extremely psychic. She had her own way of communicating with us as well. Either it be with her eyes or her body language. When she wanted out she would look at you until you made eye contact. Then she would roll her head toward the door as if saying follow me and open this thing.
She was also the greatest catcher I had ever seen. People would come over just to watch Shandi play. And then would bring others over to watch Shandi. She had this uncanny ability to catch things you would throw. Whatever it was that was airborn she would catch in her paws. Some of her catches would put the shame on NFL highlights. She would jump, dive, back flip you name it, but she caught it. She had two items that seemed to be her favorite. One was a mouth guard like you would wear when playing football. The other was the small rubber tip that came off the door stopper.
The rubber tip was the most fun for me. I would place it on the floor and thump it, she would catch it. No matter how hard you thumped it, no matter how deceptive you tried to be. She would catch it. And that's what friends liked to do too. We would find ourselves sitting around in the floor thumping this little stopper and be amazed at her catching ability. Hey like I said, it was a small town, before cable, we had to entertain ourselves. And Shandi was the entertainment.
You know how I mentioned that little things happen around us all the time. And we just seem to discount them, forget about them and go on with our day. That makes for a comfortable life. But when mental notes start adding up, and if you dare start to write them down. It's not just things you notice every now and then. It is things that are happening all the time, all around us.
Shandi had her days of weirdness as well. From sitting and watching as if something was walking by. And then look at me as if to say "Did you see that"? There were times she would chase the invisible things through the house. Very entertaining to watch, but we thought she was just playing around. One time at full speed across the room she went straight up the back of a chair and then jumping straight to the ceiling. She hit the wall and slid to the floor. She actually shook herself up on that little stunt. Again, not at the time thinking much about it
But there was one time her and I were playing with the mouth guard that stays stuck in my head. Oh and you should see the look she would give you if ever you tossed the toy into the light shade in the ceiling. I swear to this day, anyone who did that was being called a dumb ass. In cat language if it were. But there was this one day I was throwing the mouth guard and she would catch it and bring it back. No matter how creative you tried to be she would always make the catch. You could bounce it off the chair. Skip it across the table didn't matter, she caught it. So I was now going to attempt to throw this thing at the wall hard enough for it to bounce back to me. Shandi took her usual stance, like a linebacker in a football game. Intently focused on my hand. I reared back and threw it as hard as I could. And through the wall it went. Understand now. It did not make a hole, it did not break anything. It just went through the wall. And Shandi let me know she saw it too. She walked to the wall and looked at it and looked back at me. She sat there for a while staring at the wall. In fact over the next few days she would get up and go stare at the wall where the mouth piece had vanished. We never saw that toy again.
Another thing Shandi did, that Roger would call that hoodoo voodoo. If she were across the room, I could hold out my hand and stare down my arm through my fingers. And when her and I would make eye contact she would fall over asleep. That use to freak people out. They thought I was doing something. I think Shandi just figured it out and was doing it on her own. She was quite the entertainer.
But this news that John had brought me had me upset. As you could tell I loved Shandi. I love all animals. I was not going to sit back and let some one hurt them or kill them. And if any one in town back then who may have lost there beloved pet or pets we found them and they were not well. This investigation was now about to start. And it was not at first because of my curiosity. It was for Shandi...
Before I start with the patterns, Cathy wanted me to mention Shandi and the hot wings. It seems she took quite the liking to them as well. When I would bring some home she would do her little begging thing. But heck, these were the extra extra hot. Most people can't handle the heat. And I thought it would be just plain cruel to let her have one or even taste one. I know they can make you cry. Been there done that.
But it was one time I was eating some and she just kept on begging. Finally I thought, okay, I'll let her lick my finger and she would be gone. So I stuck my hand out to her and she licked, not one but all my fingers. She wanted more! So I gave her a wing and she tore it up. And still wanted more. From then on I had to order extra wings for Shandi.
When this investigation started I had no plan, no strategy. Hell all I knew to do was drive up the road. To drive by those woods. So that's what I did. At nights I would jump in the car and ride up there. At first just looking, looking for a light or a glow from a fire. I never saw one. Then when I would make a ride, I rolled down the windows and listened. Nothing. Sometimes I would even stop the car and get out and listen. Back then you could do that. There was not much traffic at night. Night after night I did this not hearing or seeing anything.
But one night something changed. Remember the tree? The tree that's in your mind that never moves? One night I had made several trips up the road and then down the road. I was about ready to head back to the house. So I pulled into the grocery parking lot. There use to be soda machines right there in front on the sidewalk. As I was getting my soda I heard car tires skidding. I turned around and saw a Lee County sheriff's car pulling into the old post office parking lot. He just pulled in there and parked. Nothing unusual. Not at the time. As I headed back to the house I also noticed one parked at the Philadelphia Baptist church. Still, to me, nothing unusual. At the time...
The next night nothing. Nothing again. I was about getting ready to stop wasting all this time and gas. One more night I thought. This was going to be the end of it. As I made my way up to the grocery where I would turn around. I stopped in the parking lot. I only stopped while I decided if I wanted a soda or not. Not tonight. But as I was about to leave the parking lot. Here comes a Lee County sheriff's car sliding into the post office parking lot. On the way home I pass the church again. And there was the other sheriff's car sitting there. I remember saying dejavue under my breath. It was time to get home, I had looked at my watch, it was 10:00pm. Note that.
The next couple of weeks I would go one night and maybe skip the next. I, myself, had no pattern yet. But it was one of those nights that found me turning around in the parking lot. Yeah this time I wanted a soda. I got out and you guessed it. Sliding tires, sheriff's car pulling into the post office parking lot. It was again time to get home, I thought, because I looked at my watch and it was 10:00pm. On the way home I passed the church and there yet again was the other one parked. It was a Thursday night. Thursday night at 10:00pm. Now this was starting to wake up my analytical mind. As the weeks went by I began to take note. Not the one's I'd later write down. But the mental type. But I had found my first pattern. And it was not that weird at first. It could have been their particular duty. But later it would have us wondering...duty to whom.
Because as it turned out every, yes every Tuesday and Thursday night at exactly 10:00pm the same exact senerio would play out. You could set your clock and calendar by this.
I had been telling John that all this time I had not heard anything from the woods. I had not seen anybody near the woods. The only thing I had noticed was that on Tuesday and Thursday nights at exactly 10:00pm the two sheriff's cars would pull into the same spots and sit there. The only thing odd was the timing and the nights. He wanted to see for himself one time. We picked one of the nights and went up to the little grocery store. We got there about a quarter till and pulled up to the soda machines. I finally got him to bet me ten bucks that this was gonna happen. He went for it. Right at 10:00pm boom there it is. The car pulled into the regular spot. I asked him to double or nothing on the second car. He didn't take that bet. But we drove down Mullin's road and there it was, the other car sitting at the church.
We went on back to the house and he was about to head home. After he paid me the ten bucks. But then he asked a question that would begin to change every thing for us. " How long do they sit there"? Up to this point I had been heading home around ten o'clock. It's the stuff after ten o'clock that gets crazy...
It was up to this point I had not heard nor seen any activity in those woods. I was getting tired of all the little trips up the road. I had in fact decided to give up. I will go ahead and let you know now that I never heard any chanting from the woods. I was never able to discern what type of ritual may have been going on that night John's father heard it. But with no ritual to catch in the act, things that were observed, only drew me in deeper.
That one question John had asked began to puzzle me. "How long do they sit there"? Okay, I was done with the little rides, I thought. But now I did want to find out how long do they sit there.
This was going to push me into a time shift. This was going to take me deeper into the nights. This was going to weigh me, and us, down. This time shift would take it's toll on our stamina as we now would be up through the nights. Now rather than considering myself through with an investigation around ten o'clock. They would now only begin around ten o'clock.
So here I go. I waited for one of those nights, Tuesday or Thursday. I waited till about ten o'clock. I went and got in the car and drove off up the road. Sure enough the Philadelphia Baptist church is what I came to first. And there was the sheriff's car. On up to the post office, I found the other. Well heck, what do I do now? Do I just sit over at the grocery store and watch? I got out and went to the vending machine as I thought of what to do. I bought my soda and sat there for a few moments. And then I thought of something. It would change my pattern.
There was another road that attached to Mullin's road. It came out right where the turn kinda started as you would be approaching the church. So I drove down the street. Turned left on a road that would take me past where the new elementary school is now. At the end of that road another left. This road would bring me back to Mullin's road. It would also bring me back to Mullin's road between the two sheriff's cars.
When I got back to Mullin's road I then turned left again. This would have me heading back toward the post office and grocery store. As I drove up that way I noticed a pick up truck pulled off that little shoulder I had described. It was an older model. Some kind of greenish color. I would never know for sure because I would never see it in day light. But it was sitting at the pull off. As I approached it, they turned off their lights. And after I had passed it, the lights came back on.
At this point nothing really catching my attention. That is why now, I try to tell people to make notes of the little things. To pay attention. To not discount all the little oddities that that we see for one moment. It is my belief, that when something does catch your attention. Even if it makes no sense. That something or some one is trying to tell you something. Your intuition, your psyche if it were. Something made you take notice. But then, we all do it, we discount it. We erase it and forget it. But if that tree is moving. That half inch a day tree. If it is moving, let it move. Do not replant it each day in your mind. Let the tree move, because what you may find behind it will open up your world.
It was now that I would interject randomness into my routine. I would move with the tree if it were. When I got back to the intersection in town. There was the sheriff's car sitting at the post office. I again turned left. And this time down the road there was another road to the left. It use to be called Eiland road. This road if you follow it around comes out right in front of the school. I grew up living on this particular road. I then turned right on Mullin's road. This would now have me heading back towards Philadelphia Baptist church. As I made my way just over the small crest in the road. I could now see all the way down to the turn. There were headlights on and shinning my way. They immediately turned off. At first I thought the old pick up truck was still there. Maybe having problems. But this time it was a car. An older type car. It was black and about the only way I can describe it, it was the Christine car. Like from the movie Christine. That is how I will identify it from now on in this story. The Christine car.
As I passed the car and approached the turn I noticed the headlights coming back on. I proceeded around the turn to the church and there was the other sheriff's car. As expected. One thing was different. There was another car in the parking lot. I went on down the road further to find a place to turn around. I went quite a ways down while I tried to process the new changes. In fact I went all the way down the road to another small store. It was called Terry's grocery. There on the left.
So now, like I said before. Nothing really at the time catching my attention. But what the hell. One more time. I turned around and headed back up Mullin's road towards down town. When I got to the Philadelphia Baptist church, things had changed. There were now two cars in the parking lot. The sheriff's car was still on post. I now call it post because that is what we were to find out later. The old greenish colored pick up was pulled next to the sheriff's car. Driver side to driver side, as to sit and talk to one another. I get all the way back to the post office end of the road. That sheriff's car was still on post and the Christine car was now beside it. Driver side to driver side.
I pull across the street to the grocery store to turn around. Yes over by the vending machines. I pause for just a moment. I had turned enough though that I was able to watch the Christine car leave and head back down Mullin's road. I drove back out and across the street to head back down Mullin's road myself. The sheriff's car sitting at the post office still. But now there was a car parked there as well over near the edge of the parking area. As I come down Mullin's road I find the Christine car, there in the dark,on the pull off, with the lights off. At the Philadelphia church, with the sheriff still on post. There now was an additional car parked. With the greenish colored pick up next to it.
What was to be discovered over the next few nights was that a shuttle service was in full operation. A shuttle service that would pick up people from the post office and the church and dropped them off at the woods. There at that vaguely noticed pull off. There were people at night going into these woods down a trail from that pull off. And they had the local sheriff's department standing look out.
It now seems that this quiet little town, that was thought to be sleeping, had a night shift. A full time operation going on. And it would be us, as we watched more. As we learned more. It would be us that would become the watched. It would be us now looking for a way out of this time shift...
I would like to ask you now to pass this story on. Get other people to read it. Maybe some one will come forward with answers. I am not putting ads up on my website. I am not writing this to send to some publisher. I am writing this in hopes of finding answers, finding closure. And any of those involved want to start your scare tactics back up. Here I am, let's finish this.
It was over the next few nights that I was beginning to bring attention to myself. After all I was always there. It was then that those I was observing began to change their pattern as well.
One of those nights when I pulled into the grocery store parking lot and up to the vending machines. The sheriff's car that was at the post office sped across the street. It pulled into the parking lot with me and slowly, very slowly drove by my car. As if getting my tag number. It then went back to the post office and parked. As I drove passed the church, the sheriff's car there pulled out and followed me. But only for a little ways down the road. It turned off on a road that would make an easy way back to the church.
I once again went down to Terry's grocery and turned around as well. And yes I went back to the church and the sheriff's car was back on post. As I came by again, it followed me once more. This time it followed me all the way up to the grocery store. I again, like usual, pulled to the vending machines. And it too slowly drove behind my car. It then went across the street to the other sheriff's car at the post office. I could tell now, that I was being given a message. One that I would not listen to.
I could see now that I needed to change things up. I needed some randomness. And this is where John and Roger would find themselves getting more involved.
I had told them what was going on and that I needed something else. Another way to observe. So it was then we would take one of their cars. We would make the little ride and see exactly what I had said would be going on. This was about the time I started a journal. I back filled it with what I knew had already happened.
We then started even more randomness. We would each take separate cars. This was back before cell phones. So we would make plans on routes and pick a rendezvous point. Each time we would come up with the workings of the shuttle service. Same two sheriff's cars at the same post. The same greenish colored pick up truck and the same Christine car doing it's little drop off service.
Only now those we were watching didn't seem to try and hide any more. Rather than lights off, it was lights on. And when we would pass by they would stand there and stare at us. It was no one we knew. And in such a small town one would usually recognize a face. But not any of these. These were cold empty faces. Almost like zombies. Even now the so called deputies would get out of their cars and stare at us. Just stare, that was all.
Nothing we observed up to this point was all that extraordinary. People getting a ride to the woods. Police watching both ends of the road. However, I do not today believe these were actual Lee County deputies. They had the cars. They had the uniforms. They had the guns, which I would found out later. They had that official look. But doing what I would consider very unofficial duties. And for some strange reason I would find out later. That they, grown men with guns...were terrified of me.
It would be through the nights, that we observed this orderly routine going on. This Tuesday and Thursday nights. Always beginning at exactly ten o'clock pm. This on the dot never changing routine. That John would ask, "what happens on the other nights"? One word...Randomness
The Devil's Cat
I have laid all this out for you on a stage. A stage you may recognize. A stage you can go observe for yourself. The land marks are still there today. Land marks you can touch and feel. The roads, you can drive for yourself. You can see where all of this happened. Or may still be happening. I have shown you the easy part, the reality parts. The parts I knew you would have no problem believing. I have also tried to avoid the next several events. For this is where your mind will change. This is where your reasoning will tell you, that no, this is made up. Not so. These events happened. I hope you will still continue with me on this journey. But it is here that I feel some will begin to leave. To discount the observations. To ignore a world that the logical mind will not accept.
We had found the answer to John's first question. The deputies stay on post until midnight. When they leave I have no idea where they go. However it was one night that Cathy was along for the ride. Cathy is my wife. It was now nearly two am in the morning. We came to the downtown intersection. There over in the grocery store parking lot was two sheriff's cars. They were out in the middle there. Driver side to driver side.
I pulled on across and up to the vending machines and parked. Just trying to look casual and doing nothing out of the ordinary. I got out of the car and walked up to the vending machine. I made one weird decision.
I know as a young child I was very shy. But as I had grown up I was getting rather cocky. I turned and walked straight out there to the deputies. I walked right up between their cars. One was a very young looking guy. I had him face to face. He could not avoid me. The other was older. He had that flat top kind of hair cut. But he would not turn his head to look at me. Which I thought was very strange. It almost seemed he didn't want me to see his face. But you would think that being an officer of the law, they would be more observant.
They were in the official uniform. They had the shotguns mounted there in the middle of the console area. I told them my name and told them I was out riding around on behalf of someone that had heard some strange stuff in the woods. I explain to them I had done little study on the subject of occults and I was curious that maybe we had one here in town.
The younger guy kept looking over to the older one as if asking what should I do. The older one still refusing any interaction in this meeting.
And then I asked them about their knowledge of any cats being killed. It was at that moment. From underneath the car, came a cat. A purely black cat, quite beautiful. It had on a collar that seemed way too wide for it to be wearing. It was jeweled and shiny. The cat jumped up unto my thigh where it's claws dug into my skin. The body language of this animal was very lovie dovie. There I said it again.
The animal was, as best as I can describe, giving me a hug. It was purring. But this purr was more like the growl of a dog. Very deep and powerful. I began petting the cat. The growling like purr threw me off but the body language was friendly enough. As I was petting the cat, I said, "Oh look, here's one that didn't get killed"
The older deputy now had rivers of sweat running down the back of his head and the sides of his face. The younger had said nothing. He sat there with his mouth hanging open. As I continued to pet this animal, the older deputy was reaching for a pack of Redman tobacco on his dash. His hand, his arm shaking wildly. His first attempt at grasping the Redman failed. His second attempt he got it. But his hands were shaking so much he couldn't open it.
Finally you younger deputy spoke. He asked what I had said my name was. As I told him again he had picked up a note pad. But as he tried to write his hands were shaking too much and threw it down. And then he asked my birth date. I told him January third. I did not mention the year and he never asked. But I did think that was an odd question at the moment. It would come up again.
The young guy denied any rumors or knowledge of what was going on. The cat jumped back down to the ground and went once again under the car. The older deputy still had not said a word. Nor had he ever turned his head so I could see his face. I told them to have a good night and started back towards my car. They were tearing out of the parking lot before I even got half way back.
Keep in mind. Cathy had the full view of everything. From where she was she could see the whole parking lot. And looking across the way, she could also see underneath the two deputy cars. When the cat went back under the squad car it had vanished. Gone, no where to run.
As I pondered what had happened. What was it they were so afraid of? Two grown men with guns. Was it me? Or was it that cat. That cat with the growling aggressive purr. A cat that would best be describe as the Devil's cat.
Joe, But not for long...
It was a couple of days later when I would meet some one else from school. Joe, I didn't know him all that well, but he remembered me. Which was odd to me, because just about no one knew me. They never tried to get to know me. I was of course, the geek. But that was then.
We started talking about things we were doing since being out of school. Talking about people we had or hadn't seen. He too, was older than me. Seems I get along better with older people. But then I mentioned what I had seen going on at night. That sparked his curiosity. I told him to come check it out. After all, another set of eyes and another vehicle.
We really had not stepped out of reality up to this point. We had witnessed people getting a ride and apparently having some kind of group activity in the woods. Oddly they seemed to have law enforcement standing watch for them. Again, I question if they were real law enforcement. But they sure dressed it to the tee. I had a cat jump on my leg that was real enough. But the reactions of both the cat and deputies were weird to say the least.
Nothing so far had made me feel uncomfortable. We were people watching. And I still do that today. I watch and study the behavior of people. I watch their reactions to events, commercials, conversations. Any thing in life. It is as if my eyes are being used to record stuff, sometimes, not by me.
And like I told Joe, it was nothing exciting going on, just weird.
But it would be one of these drives with Joe that would test me. My logic would get thrown a big flip flop of a loop. And perhaps it was the first warning to stop looking.
It was one of the in between nights, not a Tuesday or Thursday. I was not expecting to see anything. I was only riding Joe around and pointing out the spots. And if he were to join in on our now scatter and rendezvous tactics, he needed to know where we meet.
We came up around by the Philadelphia church and I pointed to where the sheriff's car would be. We went on up to the pull off and I stopped in the road to look. "That's where they go in," I told him. We drove on up to the post office. I then showed him where the other sheriff's car would be. We then pulled over to the grocery and I pointed out the vending machines. I use them for cover. I use them to look inconspicuous. I use them to blend in. People don't notice things, things that seem normal.
We turned around in the parking lot there and drove back down to the church. By now we were just chit chatting. About how now they, the people we were watching, were starting to look back. And about the sheriff's car dropping in on my tail. But he would be in his car, a different car and they would not notice him. All he needed to do was make the drive by and see if one, two, three was still the same. Simple enough.
I was going to call this chapter garbage night. But that sounded ridiculous. This would be a night that would slam my logical mind into the garbage. This would be where you find yourself no longer driving in life. This would be the time you realize you are in the back seat. This is where you find the world changes when you are not looking. Or sometimes when you are. But this would be when I began to wonder what the hell was going on.
We had stopped at the Philadelphia Baptist church. And I thought what the heck, one more run up the road. We drove around the long slow curve and then up the half mile or so straight a way. And this time I turned at the little league road, right there at the school gymnasium. I didn't turn to go down the road. I just pulled off enough to make a complete turn around. The 180 degree turn around. Not the pull up, back up, pull up again turn around. This was a no stopping turn around.
This was about eleven thirty at night. No traffic. In fact both rides up and down the road, we had not seen a car, a truck or any thing. But when my headlights hit the asphalt again. My brain clicked.
There was a garbage bag there. A big one. What the hell? I am transfixed on this bag. It was not there when I pulled over. But there it was. A big black garbage bag. No car, truck or any thing had went by. Not even some one maybe on a bike. We were the only one's out there. We were the only one's that had been there. If my intelligence level seems to drop in this chapter, it's because this event still dumbfounds me.
Joe, like everybody else, immediately started to discount it. His rational thought process took over. Another car or something went by and we just somehow missed. Just somehow didn't see another vehicle go by. Maybe they had their lights off. Maybe they coasted by, and that's why we didn't hear their motor. Or maybe just maybe this bag fell from an airplane. You can see how the rational mind argues itself into the irrational.
Quietly, I was doing the same thing in my head. But then I turned the car back towards the straight a way. What I then saw threw my quiet arguments out the window. There was another bag. In fact the entire length of the straight a way was covered in garbage bags. Joe's verbal little arguments with himself turned to mumbling sounds.
We drove down this straight piece of road. Yeah the piece of road you can see from one end to the other. Bag after bag after bag in the road. We weaved ourselves all the way to the long slow turn. About half way through the turn on the right, there use to be an old feed store. The little parking area is still there but the store is long gone. I turned around there and drove back up through all these bags. At this point, still using rational thinking. I am trying to calculate how damn big the vehicle had to be to carry all these bags. Obviously the lone car sneaking by us was now out of the question. This was truck loads. And I ain't talking garbage truck, I am talking tractor trailer loads.
Joe wasn't saying anything any more. But me I'm still rattling out numbers. Capacity and velocity. Heck they almost had to be going walking speed for this type of distribution. In other words, if it were a tractor trailer, it had to be more than one. If it was full of thrash bags and the doors were open and some one standing back there throwing them out. They had to be barely moving.
We made it back up to the little league road. And there I turned around again. My numbers were not adding up. But now I had to find out what was in the bags. I pointed the car slightly back down the straight a way and got out. Joe for some reason stayed in the car. As I examined the contents of several bags, it all seemed to be just regular household garbage. Although with a more than average consumption of milk. It seemed that each bag had four or five empty milk jugs.
We drove back through the garbage, back down Mullin's road. And at the time I was living in the neighborhood behind Terry's grocery. That's why it was a comfortable turn around spot for me. When we got there Joe got out of my car and into his. We set up tomorrows gathering time and he left for home.
His drive home would take him back through the garbage. But when he got home he called me. We didn't have cell phones back then so you had to find a phone to make a call. He was obviously upset, because I couldn't understand him at first. All he was saying was, "It's gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's fucking gone". "What the hell you talking about"? I asked. "The garbage, it's gone, it's fucking gone". "Get out of town, no way". Hell I hadn't finished figuring out how it got there, now your telling me it's gone.
I jumped into my car and drove up around to where it was, no garbage. Even the busted bags and their scattered contents were gone. Not in the road, not on the shoulders of the road and not in the ditches beside the road. Gone. G-O-N-E. My calculating capacity and velocity were through. No need to figure that out any more. There are times you wish God would have given us an on and off switch on our brains. This was one of those times. I found myself going into the discount mode. And that's what I did.
The next morning I get up and out there beside my drive way. A large black thrash bag tied to a bush. Discount, discount, discount.
We were only watching strange people doing strange things at night. It would be Joe that would give us our next pattern. The next pattern that would involve numerous more sheriff's cars and the Philadelphia Baptist church. We would soon be exiting the safety of our cars in these observations. We would see more and more bizarre things. And now, at least for now we had another set of eyes. And it would be the eye's of Joe. But not for long...
"For the world is hollow, and I have touched the sky"
Have you ever stopped to wonder what fish in an aquarium think? I mean here they are in their little world. They spend their days and nights swimming around in their environment. They have their little neighborhood so to speak. The shrubs, sometimes a house or other fixtures. They have the earth beneath them layered with multicolored rocks. And each day food seems to fall from the sky. They can go to the ends of their little neighborhood, but there something there, won't let them go any further. And yet there, right there, at the limits they can see other things but yet they can't get over to it. They may even go tell the other fish to come look at what they saw at that limited journey. But when the other fish comes over it was gone or had moved.
There may be days when new fish show up in their neighborhood. Just show up out of no where. There also may be days when friends just disappear and never return. It comes to a point where the fish must do one of two things. They must accept what is happening and just discount every new event. Or they go insane trying to figure it out. After all the environment is home, it's comfortable. Everything they need is right there. Just live and enjoy what they have.
The one's that stay near the middle always seem content, they seem comfortable. But the one's at the edge are always becoming more frantic. They go up and down the glass. Back and forth against the glass. You can almost sense their frustration. They can see that there is more in front of them, yet they can't grasp it. They can't go over to it. The content fish want to hear nothing of it. This is the way it is. This is how it has always been. This is how it will always be.
The garbage event had left me against that glass. The possibility's had there limit. Either it was put there and then removed. Either we were put somewhere else and returned. Alone I would have just discounted the entire event. But this was two individuals. Two totally separate minds and personalities. Two sets of eye's seeing the same thing. Two entirely different reactions. One immediately to discount as a hallucination, albeit a very long one. The other to demand logical conclusions. One to never want to think about it. One who would want it to happen again for further study.
I know that I watch people. Like I said, I watch their reactions to things. When I see those symbols in television or movies, I watch. Did they react? What was the message when that symbol appeared. If I move something an inch or so when they were not looking. Do they notice it was moved? When food falls from the sky, do they question it or just enjoy what they now have.
The events would bring me up against the glass. The patterns would hold me there. My mind would reach out to the logical conclusions. But as I would go back and forth, and up and down. I would reach a point to where I had touched the sky...
The controlled environment
Let us now step outside the aquarium. Let us sit there for a moment and observe. We can see the fish living their lives. We can watch the content ones and the frantic ones. We can see from this angle that the fish can be controlled. They can be taught how to live. Ironically a group of fish is called a school.
By making small changes in their little world, we can adapt their behavior. We can make the water on one side of the tank more comfortable than the other. Soon all the fish would stay on that side. We can cause things to happen to the fish. We could put a symbol of sorts in a specific area and have something bad happen. Soon all the fish would avoid the symbol.
We could also put in other symbols and have something good happen. Like this is where the food comes down. Here at this symbol. It would even reach a point where the symbols do not have to be seen. As generations live in this controlled environment, this is what they learn, and this is how they live.
As people we have the same thing going on around us. We are raised with a way of doing things. That is our normal. When those outside want to make a change. They move things, ever so slightly. And they use symbols.
Not all of the fish in the tank can see the changes going on around them. And there are those that stay at the top of the tank. It is rumored that bad things happen there. The fish are afraid to go there. And those fish who dare to swim those waters are just thought to be crazy. But again, that is how it is, that is how it always has been.
But those at the top are the first to see things coming. They greet the new guest upon their arrival. The new arrivals are from outside and know of greater things. From these new arrivals they learn of the great wonders of outside. The oceans, the rivers and all the other worlds. Other worlds that are one and the same. But they have become separated, separated by this glass, this invisible wall.
With this new knowledge, this forbidden knowledge. The top swimmers gain much power over the other fish. They now know the symbols and how they work. The symbols that are seen or the ones that have, through generations, been embedded into the consciousness.
Now that there was four of us, we could change things up. We all still had our own schedules to keep as well. It would be one of those nights when were planning our escapades that we noticed the crickets go silent. All at once from chirping every where to silence. After a slight pause the dogs in the neighborhood would began to howl. As far away as we could hear, dogs were howling. It was the type of howl they do when they hear a siren or something, but it was dead silent when they started.
The first time it happened it just caught our attention. The second time, well that was weird. By the third time, this was a pattern.
As it turned out, every Tuesday and Thursday nights at ten o'clock this would happen. I have no idea why or what was going on. But the animals knew something and they reacted to it.
Up to now we had only been drive by observers. I had not yet built up the nerve to just go running into the woods and see what was going on. And those nerves would soon be rattled to the point that was not going to happen.
It would be Joe that would give us the next pattern. He had observed many sheriff's cars behind the Philadelphia Baptist church. If you go to google maps and pull up the satellite view of this stretch of road you can see what I am talking about.
Just past the woodline as you are heading towards the church, you can see the rear of the building across the pasture. He had seen them back there from his approach. But as he made his way around to the front they were leaving. And they were leaving in a hurry with emergency lights flashing. He had said there were six of them tearing out of there.
Again, when something happens once, it catches your attention. Twice, you kind of make a mental note. The third time, well something is up.
This was now getting later into the nights. And this was happening every Thursday night at one am in the morning.
I think this is where we began to get a little too involved. We wanted to know what was going on back there. Roger and I had John drop us off near the church at about twelve fifteen. We went around back and found us a place in the woodline to hide and observe.
At one am they came. Seven cars pulled around back of the church. They loaded small boxes into the cars and about one ten they blasted out of there. They were not being secretive about their departure at all. They always had their emergency lights on. But no sirens.
What was in the boxes? I have no idea. Where did they go? We do not know, but they were in an extreme hurry to get there. There was no keeping up with them to find their destination.
It would be one of these nights. One of these Thursday nights at one am, that my cockiness would kick in again.
John and I were on the way back down the road. We observed the cars behind the church. But this time they had their emergency lights on. As we came around to the front of the church, one was sitting there parked. I just pulled into the parking lot.
John was not keen on that idea, but it was done now. As I got out of the car I could still see the flashing lights on the trees behind the church. At the time there was a walk way between the two main buildings. And it was through that walk way I could see the lights.
I walked straight up to the deputy sitting out front. I bent over with my hands on my knees and asked him. "What's going on, did some one break into the church?" He said, "What do you mean?" "Well we were coming down the road and saw all the lights flashing and thought that maybe some one had broken into the church". "No, there's nothing going on". "I said well okay, but we just saw the lights and got curious". "Oh no, that was just me checking my lights" he said.
I looked through the walk way once again. I could still see the lights flashing back there. I know he could see them as well. And he was a terrible liar. But he just sat there staring out his front windshield.
It was when I was leaving and telling him to have a good night that the most bizarre question came from him. "When is your birthday?" Again, not my name. Not asking for identification. Not asking what we were doing out at one in the morning. Just my birthday. I told him January third. His response, "Capricorn". And that was all he said.
We each just live our lives day by day. Just trying to make life comfortable. We go to work, we pay our bills and we try to entertain ourselves. You find that life has one pattern that is laid out for us. But there is also another pattern. It is the pattern of our controlled environment...
Welcome to my world
We had observed the patterns that were there in the nights. I had been making my notes, notes that were now more like a journal. Well that is what it had become. It was day by day accounts of the same routine.
It was well established now that Thursday and Tuesday nights were very active. After ten pm...
At ten o'clock the two deputies would take their post. At ten o'clock the crickets would go silent and dogs begin to howl. At ten o'clock the shuttle service would start up. People would go into the woods there at the pull off. All this on Tuesday and Thursday nights. And on Thursday nights at one am the local law enforcement would gather behind the Philadelphia Baptist church and load small boxes into their cars and speed away.
I again have to state that I do not believe this was local law enforcement. But the cars were that of the Lee County sheriff's department. The individuals I got close enough to see all had on Lee County sheriff's department uniforms. And they had guns.
But it was one of the in between nights John and I would ride up the road heading toward downtown that would change up the patterns.
Up to now everything was real easy to comprehend. People doing things, weird things yes, but just people. Well everything except the garbage. That was still stuck in my head. Joe would not talk about it. That for the moment would only bother me. I guess I would carry that one for the both of us.
This event would be one that would shake John up pretty good.
As we came up past the Philadelphia church and started into the long slow turn. I noticed a light shining at us from the other end of the road. I said "What the hell is that"? John's first answer was it's the water tower. And true, you can see the water tower light from where we were. I pointed that out. The light on the water tower was red. The light shining at us was hot blue, if there is such a color. But that is the best I can describe it.
As we came on up to this light we found ourselves beside it. It was just over the wooded section between the school gymnasium and that other church. That little two block section I described earlier.
The focused beam that at first was shining at us was still shining down the road, toward the Philadelphia church. Now that we were beside it, it was four lights. The other lights, still the same color, but seemed only ambient. We now had stopped in the middle of Mullin's road. We got out of the car and stood there looking at this oddity. The four lights were in a diamond pattern. They were all equally spaced at about forty feet apart. That was a good description, because this was right there over the trees. And we were standing right there in the road.
John went into that verbal argue with yourself mode. Was it a plane, no because it's just sitting there. It had to be a helicopter, yes that's it a helicopter. But it was not making any sound. I saw no down draft. It was just sitting there in the sky, just above the tree tops.
By now John had stopped the argument and was only asking. "What the hell is that? What the hell is that? Over and over that's all he was saying. A camera would have been great here, but this was back in the day.
I noticed now a car was coming toward us from the end of the long straight a way. We got in the car to pull up to the little league field road. That dead end road I described. I believe now it is listed as CO RD 728.
We both again got out of the car and stood there looking. As the other car got closer and closer this thing got lower and lower into the trees. In fact it was breaking tree tops as it got lower. John started shouting "Oh shit it's crashing, it's crashing. Still thinking it was a helicopter he ran around to my side of the car. He was starting to duck down beside my front fender.
The other car just rode right past us. I know they had to see this. The lights never turned off. They were bright and and tree tops were being smashed down. You could hear the snapping off of the limbs. But that was the only sound coming from this thing.
After the car had passed us, this thing rose back up above the tree line. It flashed it's lights twice. And like a bolt of lightening shot out across the sky. John looked at me and said,"I ain't saying shit". He was flabbergasted. I was excited.
All the way back to the house he kept repeating himself. "What the hell was that?" "I ain't saying nothing". " What the hell did we just see"? "I'm not gonna talk about it, I can't talk about it".
He didn't want to talk about it, but I couldn't wait to get home and tell Cathy about it.
I described everything to her that had just happened and what we had seen. John was standing there and said, "That, was fucked up". "But I am not saying another word about it".
In our lives we see many things, some we pay attention to. Others only our eyes and sub conscience mind make note of. Many, many things we just discount as deja vue, or optical illusion. Some times we do not look on purpose. Some times that's the way we are programed, not to look. Maybe the symbols had already told your mind to just forget and move on. You follow your pattern, your way of life. To stray from that pattern, or to push against the glass is wrong. It is forbidden.
But for this night, I had some one there. Some one who would look. Some one who would see. And at least for now I had some one finally, to welcome to my world...
John's last ride
The real irony is that you would follow my story intensely up to the last chapter. It's okay, that's the way we are programed. That is the pattern that your life is on.
You could spend an entire day watching something. And with one sentence, one word or even one symbol. You would discount your day. You would reset your brain. You would plant that tree right back in it's place. Back into the pattern.
This is how our world is run. Those that know the program can influence what ever actions they choose.
So if now you want to put yourself back into safety mode and laugh this off, go ahead, that's what we are supposed to do. I have been trying to get back to that safety mode for years.
Remember when I said that when something catches your attention, or something causes you to pay attention? That when this happens you should take note and not discount it. Here is the reason.
I had noticed a car across the street. One that I had not seen before. But it was there, just outside the fence of the neighbors house. It had a for sale sign on it. The "for sale" sign is what put me back on my pattern. Not that it was an unfamiliar car. Not that it's location was odd. But the "for sale" sign made it all okay.
John may have been flabbergasted over the other event. He may not have wanted to talk about it. But he was more than willing to go look for more. In fact we were not even going to pay attention to the people and their woodsy excursions.We had bigger things to figure out.
When he arrived at the house, the neighbors dog was barking at the car. The car with the for sale sign on it. I noticed, but again, I went into discount mode. Even when the dog was obviously pointing something out.
It was after we had been inside for a while. Planning our little run. Then I get a strange phone call. The caller asked who was sitting in front of me? "What? Who is this? Again they asked who was sitting in front of me? I said, "What, are you looking through my walls or something"? The caller, "something like that". I said it's John. I thought this was some kind of prank call. But after I said John they hung up.
At first we were laughing it off. But then it clicked. That car. That strange car outside. The car with the for sale sign on it. The car, that supposedly empty car, that the dog was barking at. As soon as I had put two and two together and said it's that damn car. I was headed for the door. But when I opened the door, the car was peeling out. I guess it wasn't for sale anymore.
Even after that, we were still going out to make our run. Maybe not our best decision.
We took off up the road and passed the Philadelphia Baptist church. The deputy sitting there. We passed the Christine car on the pull off. But now the pattern changed. The Christine car dropped in behind us. It followed us up to the end of the road. The post office to the left did not have it's deputy tonight.
We turned right. The Christine car turned right. Staying rather close to us. I drove past the grocery store this time, as did the Christine car. I drove on down to a road on the left that would go up and over the rail road tracks. Christine was still with us. Immediately I turned left on a road that would take us behind the grocery store. Christine the same.
We were being followed, there was no doubt now. I made it down to the intersection behind the grocery. One road to the left would bring you out beside the grocery store. I continued right, it would take us out to the four lane highway.
As I made it to the four lane, John was saying we've got lose them. I went right on the four lane heading towards Phenix City. Christine still on our tail. I was now getting faster and faster. Christine was just getting closer and closer.
Now at speeds near one hundred miles per hour Christine was on my bumper. I could not see the headlights it was so close. John was now going into panic mode. He was shouting, "They're going to kill us, they're going to kill us"! "Lose them, lose them"!
I was already going as fast as I could and this damn Christine car was almost pushing me. But at least I was heading to the city. They wouldn't try anything in the city with people around.
But as I got to the city it seemed like no one was out. I mean no one. If I wasn't so focused on the Christine car, that would have been something to note as well. I just started turning on streets. At this point I didn't know what I was doing. I was just going to keep moving.
We had made our way all the way into Columbus, Georgia. John still shouting, "You got to lose these guys"!
As we found our way over on Broad street, near the book store. Yeah, the one it rains on when I go in. The Christine car went the other direction.
I didn't lose them, but they did stop following me. We just worked our way on down the street. Got over on fourth avenue, which is now called Veterans Parkway. We got down to Victory Drive and turned right. Which would bring us back to Phenix City.
John watched out the back window all the way back to the house. We didn't see the car again...on the way home. I believe this was our second message. And this one worked. We went straight home.
When we got back we talked about what had happened and just calmed ourselves back down. John had opened the door and was stepping outside. Then he jumped back in slamming the door. "Shit, shit, shit"! I said,"What"? "It's the car, it's that damn car"!
We both opened the door together and Christine was sitting in the street, right at my driveway. I didn't have any thoughts at that moment. We just stood there looking. The car revved it's motor a couple of times and eased on down the road.
I guess this was to say, "we know where you live". Okay I got the message.
The next day, I bought a gun from Roger. He had a 357 magnum pistol he wanted to sale. And at this point, I was an eager customer.
The next night John calls and said the Christine car did the same thing over at their house. The tables had turned. They were now telling us they knew who we were and they knew where we live. A simple message. One I would not listen to.
I would have a few more runs and Joe would be there to help. I had not gotten to the event that scared me yet. I guess I am hard headed like that. But these two nights, these two messages. John took them to heart. And after the high speed chase. It would be John's last ride...
Searching for Reality
The next couple of weeks we would be bouncing around. We were seeing things that didn't make sense. My focus was being distracted. I had reached the point that I was just going to enter the woods and see what was going on.
Roger was becoming more shakened. He was claiming that the Christine car was every where. Not that it was following him, it was every where he went. He would say he saw it at an intersection. Then he would see it down the street at another intersection.
He and John would have it making drive bys of their home. It just showed up every where they went. Or was already there.
Our phones would ring with no one on the line. We were being harassed to say the least.
Things would change and be out of place. Some times we would all notice. Other times maybe one or two of us would notice.
I would find myself making measurements. This was here yesterday and now it's different today. But then the next day back where the measurement had started.
Absolutely nothing was making any sense around us. I was beginning to feel like a cat chasing a laser pointer.
We would find ourselves distracted from the original investigation. But maybe that is what this was all about. It was smoke and mirrors. We were being directed away from the woods.
There was one night I noticed a constellation I had not seen before. It was three very bright stars,in a triangle. Nothing strange at first about it except for their brightness. Hours later I noticed it was still there in the same spot. This did not compute. The moon had moved, the other stars had moved. But these three had stayed the same.
I walked out to the end of the driveway and held up my hand, as to wave. They departed in separate directions.
Joe was saying that a blue triangle shaped object was cutting across the road in front of him. Nearly making him run off the road.
The phone calls, the Christine car, the objects being out of place. Things were making us crazy. If this was to distract us it was working and working well.
I was left with one thing to do. I was going into the woods. This was going to end right now. No more distractions. No more trying to figure out what's going on. I was going to get to the bottom of our original investigation.
I was just about at my wits end and I had only one thing left. That is what I thought at the moment. I had made up my mind to ignore the crazy stuff. I wanted focus again. I wanted to end the investigation.
If not to find the answers in the woods. If not to finally see what these people were doing. If not to just walk right up to them and ask. I would at least be searching for reality...
From the woods, they watch
Okay, tell me the story is weird. Tell me it doesn't make sense. And I will thank you. It didn't make sense then. It doesn't make sense now, and probably never will. There was a reason we never talked about the events. Who would believe us? Who could we call? The police we were watching? It's been over twenty five years now. I have mentioned one or two of the events to people to only watch their eyes roll back in their head. I have held it all back in my head. My friends are gone now, but the memories are not. I decided to write it all out and publish it to see if answers would finally come to me. Some parts I will not like writing about. Other parts I will not even mention or write.But this is going out for those that may have been in the same situation. For those that had no where to turn, and no one to talk to. And this is today. Today in the world of emails and internet. And yes, I am getting new information. Information from others that saw events as well. Similar events, if not the same. It only gets more weird.
John was no longer involved after the chase. He wanted nothing more to do with it. Roger would fall out only a couple more days later. He said, "I don't know whats going on in those woods, but with all the people and cops involved, it's more than a bunch of hoodoo shit"." I feel like I am being watched every where I go and a damn helicopter was over our house shining it's freaking lights on us. "Whatever is going on, I don't want any more to do with it".
It was down to just Joe and myself. I personally was even getting tired of the weirdness. It was if I had been thrust into a dream state. Logic was out the window. Analysis was only more confusing. The real world seemed so far away, and I wanted to go back.
Weirdness was not new to me. I have lived the weird. I've seen more than my share of weird from between the bubbles. And I guess that goes back to Ms Lynch and Ms Wilder. They started me on the path. The path between the bubbles. Did I have different teachers? No. Did they treat me differently? Most definitely. They all seemed to be coordinated on filling me with knowledge. Knowledge outside the normal curriculum.
The different treatment even continued in high school. One teacher, a Ms Waddi, was far more abrasive. Every pop test or exam she would make me sit in the hall. Yeah I would have to take my desk out in the hallway to take any test. Her logic was to prevent others from copying off of me. My feelings however was like being punished. And any one who shared that class with me should remember that.
Even more strange was that after graduation, Ms wilder was waiting for me out by my car. I had not seen her in over five years and yet there she was. And Ms Wilder...Sheila... my eyes are now open. If I could go back, that night would have been a whole lot different. For both of us.
Joe and I continued the drives. Sometimes in his car, sometimes in mine. There were even times we would just take separate cars and meet at the grocery store or back at Terry's. It was at the point now nothing was changing. The only new information was going to be found in the woods. But I just couldn't go running in there with a flash light, they would see me coming from a mile away. I thought about just going up the trail like the rest of them. I also thought that maybe I could find a back way in. Maybe go in a couple hours early and wait.
It was one night that Joe would go up Mullin's road and I would come around the old highway. We were to meet at the grocery store. There I would be able to see the old post office and he would come by the church. But on his way up he turned down the little league road. The now CO Rd 728. It was a dead end road at the time. The new school section was not there. It was the ball field, a parking area and woods.
The story has been bizarre already but now it was going far and beyond that. And It was going to start to scare me.
I was at the grocery store and Joe came speeding into the parking lot and sliding his car almost into mine. He got out screaming words I could not even understand. Finally after about the third time he said the giant monkey man almost got him. Okay, after about a three second pause I burst out laughing. I began to have thoughts of Roger in the gorilla suit. But he said it again, "the giant monkey man almost got me". Sorry, but I started laughing again. But Joe was visibly shakened. He was really upset.
He claims that when he pulled down that road he saw what looked like a giant monkey standing behind a large tree. He also said it had on a white T shirt. Yeah, I'm laughing again. A giant monkey man in a white T shirt. But he said when he saw this thing in the headlights it went behind the tree. He pulled the car over next to the tree and got out with a gun. Yes, we were now at this time both carrying guns with us. He said when he walked over to the tree that it sounded like a boulder rolling down hill towards him. It scared him so much he dropped the gun and ran to the car and left.
I'm sorry but this was even too much for me to believe. But we both went back to try and find the gun. We pulled both cars up to where he claimed to have seen this thing. After a little looking around I found the gun. Joe stayed closer to the cars. And yes I heard a little ruckus going on in the darkness, but hey, it's the woods. I'm thinking deer,opossums or whatever. The monkey man was not even a thought for me. It would be what I would see in the daylight that would change up my thought process.
The next day I had totally discounted Joe's monkey man. But it did give me an idea. Maybe from that dead end road I could find me a way into the woods and pick a spot to spy on the night hikers. So I went back that afternoon and made my way into the woods. I had only gone in about forty yards or so and happened upon a trail. It kind of looked like a deer trail, only wider. Any hunter or outdoors man is familiar with deer trails. They use the same path every day and every night. That is their pattern. Even cows, though they may be all over a pasture will still have their little trails. That is their pattern. We all have our patterns.
This trail went off into the deeper part of the woods, but it also went towards the school. For some reason I chose to follow that trail toward the school. I followed this well beaten path around to the back side of the little league field. And there it ended. But what it ended at was the most startling aspect. There in the thickness of all the briars and honey suckle vines was what I can only describe as a blind. There right at the edge of the ball field was a perfectly formed room in the brush. It was as if the honey suckle vines had been formed into a wall of sorts. It was oval in shape, about ten feet by eight feet and completely enclosed. But the side facing the ball field had an opening. It was like a slot going across. This was about six inches wide and about five feet long.
Now this was beginning to freak me out. Someone was coming from deep in the woods all the way around to the back side of the ball field. And there in this enclosure would, I guess, be watching the ball games. Or the children.
At first I thought this was the people coming in from the drop off trail. But wait, they don't go in until after ten o'clock. The ball games are usually over by then. Some one, or some thing was coming up through there earlier. And if it was the people, why not just go sit in the stands. No one would notice any thing different.
This just had me more confused than ever and would lead me to do one of the stupidest things I would ever come up with. I had not figured out a damn thing yet. But one thing I had discovered is that from the woods, they watch...
The words of children
It seemed to be chaos. Weird I was use to, but this was a bombardment of weird. I kept telling myself to focus. To concentrate and try and focus. But focus on what? This had all started out with me expecting to catch kids playing around in the woods. Oh, and I was going to scare the bejesus out of them. But now I had dead cats all over a yard. I had cops acting strange. I had people going into the woods from a roadside trail. I had garbage appearing and disappearing. I had what I will go ahead and call a UFO hovering over the tree line. We had people now watching us and chasing us. And now a freaking giant monkey man? In a white T shirt no doubt.
The only thing not weird, even though it was, was the little blind at the edge of the ball field. Where does one start?
I was not tempting another car chase. So the driving up and down the road on Tuesday and Thursday nights was out. The monkey man, well I didn't see it personally, but it shook Joe up something awful. So I believed him. And maybe it was Mr. monkey dude watching the ball games. That, strange as it sounds made sense to me. I mean people would just sit in the stands or stand near the fence. This was something that did not want to be seen.
UFO's and disappearing garbage I can't observe. That had no pattern. It was completely random.Those two things were out side of the controlled environment. The only thing left was monkey man and find a back way into the woods. Which as it turns out worked for me. Monkey man was spotted at the area I was planning to use to go into the woods.
And now the feeling of some one watching me while checking out the blind started to muster in my mind. It was a creepy type feeling, but it was day time and I just discounted it then. I had kept looking around but didn't see any one. I was more focused on this trail and apparent observation area.
Now the hind sight, the discounted memories began to move forward in my thoughts. While I was in the blind there was a moment when it felt like the door closed behind me. But there was no door. This was just a perfectly cleared section in the thickest part of the honeysuckle vines. When it happened I thought it was a brush with claustophobia. I had spun around looking behind me and seeing nothing. So I did as we all do. Discount it. Take it from the hard drive of the mind and dump it into the recycle bin. Now that I'm older and my eyes are a little more opened that's the absolute worst thing to do.
There should not be a recycle bin in any one's mind. That's where our blindness originates. That's where the symbols of control are implanted. That's where our personalities are formed and behavior is affected. That's where the personality disorders form. And all these discounted memories are just sub programs that go in and change our lives. Direct our lives.
If one is to believe in angels, one must also believe in demons. On that day your keys got displaced did you discount it? It has happened to you because it happens to all of us. Let's say an angel moved your keys and ten minutes later you find them. Now that you are departing ten minutes later maybe you avoided an accident. But now let's say a demon displaced your keys. Ten minutes later you find them, but now you hurry and speed to your destination. A change in your behavior. And now you get into an accident or cause one. When you discounted the event, you let your behavior be effected.
Things are all around us and we see them, at least our subconscience does. The programmed mind is blinded. And trust me the blindness is a comfortable place to be. It's an easy place to live. You just roll through life like a leaf floating down stream. You learn to stay on your pattern. The fabricated pattern. You watch the same television shows on the same nights each week. Or you go to the same sporting events and your life gets controlled by these patterns
And now since the pattern is so laid out, only small niches are required to effect changes. Small little sub programs. Those sub programs are all the discounted memories. Those things we see or hear and immediatley almost without thought send it straight to the recycle bin. That's the way we are trained to do. And that training starts early. We even help in the training of our children. When we tell them not to look, don't stare, don't point, oh it's just your imagination...
Imagination, the human mind is one of the most powerful things in the universe. Acknowledged by God in Genesis. "What man has imagined, man can do". It is said man was building a tower to heaven. Sounds ridiculous, but God said it was possible and had to break it up. Had to seperate the collective mind and confuse the speech to stop it. Knowing the power of the human mind is why there is a continuing battle over the control of us. If we can be made to think one way that power goes that way. And we as individuals have god like powers. We just do not have control over ourselves. We are mighty stallions with our blinders on and our bits in our mouths. Just dare you once, just once, look at who holds your reins.
Let's say that once upon a time a new arrival came to the aquarium. And he made it past those top swimmers. He made it past them by starting at the bottom. The very bottom. And he came with the knowledge of the outside world. And he began to tell all the fish about the real power they have. That if they hungered they could eat without waiting to see what the top swimmers allowed to fall down. If they were sick they could be healed, without waiting for the top swimmers to say it's okay. And he told them that yes they could go to the outside world of rivers and oceans.
He taught as much as he could. He fed the hungry, he healed the sick. One fish, a very sick one, thought that she could only touch him she would be well. She made her way through the school around him and finally reached out and did touch him as was healed immediately. With joy she swam around saying thank you, thank you, you have healed me. But he look at the fish and said, "I have healed you not, your own faith has healed you". Your own power, the power you do not control. He also went on to say that the smallest amount of faith could move mountains. Faith, belief, positive attitude. This is power, and knowledge with this power is unstoppable. That's why we are controlled and programed.
Before we are blinded we see the things being put on us and in us. We still have knowledge before we are reprogramed. We have the purest faith, trust and all the power of the universe. But we are children. So when a child says they see something under their bed or in their closet or even in the very room with you. Get them to descibe it in detail. Get them to draw a picture.Get them to tell you what is being said. You will not like what they see and hear.
But this is where the trust is broken, the faith is shattered, the recycle bin is created. All in the trauma of events you do not believe. When they are fearful of some monster under the bed, just because you do see it doesn't mean it's not there. Because if they imagine it, it is real to them. And God has said if we imagine, we do. But when you send them back into the dark alone and without your trust you only leave one option. Suppressed memories, recycle bin, discount, discount, discount. They now have lost their faith, the faith in you as the parent. So now they are broken and ready for the saddle.
To break this chain, this pattern, this control we must reinforce our faith, our trust and be willing to accept knowledge we have been programed to refuse.
Rather than break the child, give them tools to work with. If they claim a monster is under the bed, get them a stick or a bat to hit the monster with. Set up traps, magic circles any thing, anything to build confidence and faith in themselves and trust in you. Give them the true power they were born with. The power to change the universe.
If you want to know the secrets of life.We must accept what our children bring us. If you want to began to open your eyes, don't close the eyes of our children. And if you really want to know what's going on around you that you can't see. Listen, please listen, to the words of children...
I don't know what day it was, but it was not a Tuesday or Thursday. Joe had worked late and it was nearly night. The light of day had faded. We almost did nothing that night, but by now you know me, I got to go and at least look for something. If nothing else I wanted to see how far into the woods I would have to go from the back side. Flashlights in hand , we were out the door.
We drove up the road and passed the church. Nothing going on there and I had not expected anything. We passed the little pull off, no car nor truck, not even any sign of activity. Again, I had not expected any. It was not the typical night for the patterns.
As we approached the small wooded section between the other church and the little league road, of course I slowed down. No lights, no object, nothing there either. We pulled down the road to the end. I had the headlights shining on the very tree Joe said the giant monkey man went behind. We got out of the car and stood there for a moment. It was a very creepy feeling. I had not seen this monkey man for myself. But I guess I was picking up on Joe's feelings.
We walked over to the edge of the woods and there again was quite a ruckus going on in there. I figure once more we were disturbing some wildlife. The lights showed us nothing but dark woods. Plenty of movement sounds, but no eyes reflecting back. Only movements and darkness. Almost as if the flashlights were not on. I kept checking mine to make sure it was on.
I had taken only a few steps into the woods and the movements increased. Joe had stopped at the edge. It almost sounded like a small stampede in there. But we still had seen nothing. Whatever was making all the commotion was just outside the limit of our flashlights,which seemed non existent. I took one or two more steps and even more ruckus around us. And right there is when I noticed something. What ever it was, it was not running away from us but around us. And it was staying right at the limits of our flashlights. That's when I started to think something wasn't right and the hair on the back of my neck began to rise.
Stirring up some deer or rabbits would have had them running away from us, not spreading out around us. Joe was nervous and a little scared when we got there. Now I was starting to freak out a little. So like I always do, I tried a little humor. I said, "don't worry man, if monkey dude shows up I'll put some kung fu on his ass". With a little giggle I started into "everybody was kung fu fighting". And trust me, I would not even place in a karaoke contest. But just as I was turning back towards the woods. From about my two o'clock perspective came that boulder rolling down a hill sound Joe had mentioned. And that is exactly what it sounded like. A large boulder rolling down a hill, breaking sticks and small trees and rumbling across the ground. It was heading straight towards me.
I saw nothing, I was running though. Something big and heavy was charging at me and I was getting the hell out of there. We made it to the car and jumped inside, locking the doors. "What the hell?" "What the hell was that?" Joe was saying,"see I told you some shit was in there". "Get out of here". He said. "No, now wait a minute". "Let's see if it comes on out". I said. Joe's response was, "man if it's what I saw, you don't want it to come on out, let's get out of here".
We sat there only for a few minutes more. Nothing this night came out of the woods. I, however, felt something didn't want us in there. It was that gut feeling you get. The one I should have listened to. But I didn't.
We backed up and turned around the car and went back up the hill to Mullin's road. Turning right on Mullin's heading up towards the old post office. As we got close to the post office I noticed lights above it. Driving up beside it, I turned into the parking area. Still trying to look at these lights. I stopped the car and got out. There use to be a cedar tree there, it was maybe twenty five feet tall at the time. This object was just above the top of the tree. Maybe thirty feet off the ground.
It was just sitting there. It was not moving or making any kind of sound. But this one was different than the one John and I had seen. This was more of a triangular shape or chevron shaped. It had four lights as well though. I was at first thinking this was an ultralight or motorized kite of some kind. But I have never seen one with lights, and this was completely silent. And sitting perfectly still.
Joe had gotten out of the car and then got back in. He got out once again and immediately got back in, climbing around inside the car trying to look through the windshield. He was screaming at me to get back in the car. "Get in the car, get in the car"! "Please get back in the car!" I was trying to watch the object and Joe at the same time. Joe was actually providing more excitement. He was totally freaking out. I was walking about looking for a rock or a stick or something to throw at this object. And again Joe was screaming with tears now coming from his eyes, "please, please get in the car"!
I hadn't found anything to throw but a small twig. There was no way I could throw it high enough to hit this thing. It didn't have enough mass to be thrown at all. But just then the object went straight up. I mean straight straight up. About another fifty feet. Well for me, that took the ultralight idea out of the equation. It like the other before flashed it's lights twice and headed down over Mullin's road. Almost immediately three sheriff's car came speeding up the road. All three sliding around the corner there and heading down Mullin's road as well. One even skidded off the road surface and almost crashed into the old barbeque pits that use to be there. I don't know if they were chasing this thing or what. But they all went the same direction. But in a car chase, my money is on the airborne object.
We left the post office and headed back home. Joe said nothing all the way back. And when we got there he got out of my car and got into his and left. Still not saying a word. I thought I had at least welcomed another to my world. But this would be the last time I would see Joe or ever hear from him again. I got no calls from him, I got no answers on the phone when I would call him. I did not know where he lived, so I could not go to his house and ask what was wrong. To this day, I haven't even heard anything about him.
I reference the welcome to my world, because these things in the night skies were not new to me. The first time I had seen one was back, yes back, to around the time I was in the fifth grade. At that time my friend and next door neighbor were outside my house. His parents and sisters were over visiting that night. He and I were out in the front yard just playing around. We were playing some kind of dare game. We would throw pine cones up in the air and not look, just to see if we got hit in the head or not. Hey like I said, small town, no cable TV, we had to make stuff up to entertain ourselves.
I had just got the dare to throw a green pine cone up. And anyone who knows pine cones, the green ones are the armor piercing ammo in a pine cone fight. Not to back down on a dare, I threw it. But I had to look up, that green one was going to hurt if it hit my head. But looking up I saw it. My first sighting. It was beautiful. It was all golden and glowing. It came right over to us and stopped just above the tree tops. This in my young mind looked like two lunar command modules stuck together. It was very shiny, like gold plated.
We just got up and stood there looking at this thing. And like a flash he and I both were next door at his house beating on the front door trying to get in. No one was home, they were all at my house. We had to run out to the street and go around the fence to get back to my yard. We both ran in my front door screaming for the grown ups to come outside and see this thing. But they just sat there, saying it was just a plane. And we both said, no, no. no this is not a plane, it's sitting on the trees. But still no one would come out and look. He and I both went back out and looked at it some more. It was still just sitting there.
I ran back into the house and back to my bedroom and dug my pellet gun out of the closet. I was pumping it up as I came running through the hall. As I came through the living room every one was sitting there like mannequins, just still and frozen in there seats. I noticed that it was weird, but I was on a mission. I ran back out the front door and aimed my rifle at this thing, and something said no. As I lowered my gun it flashed it's lights twice and moved on across the sky. To this day, he and I have no idea how we got over to his house to find ourselves beating on his front door.
No one believed what we had seen. But that summer in the newspaper almost every other day there were reports. Reports from police officers chasing them through town in Columbus,Georgia. I would cut out the articles and carry them around with me and show people. See, see some one else saw one too.And it's in the news, that makes it real. I guess that's when people started to not believe the news.
As I got older it was just common place for me to see these things. However, no one else would ever be with me to see them. After high school I started dating a girl that lived in Cusseta, Georgia. My first real girlfriend. And she was gorgeous. She was a Glenwood girl. She didn't know me as the nerd at Smith Station. She didn't know I was on the lower rung of the social ladder. She didn't know the pecking order at Smith Station. All she knew was me, and she liked me. She like me for me and that was all. Wow, I had been in a bubble after all. My world opened up. I thought I was a no body and would always be so. This is where I learned there is a whole world outside. You just have to step through the door. Those little social groups mean nothing when you walk above them. I for one will never come back down. I am also proud that I raised my children to understand that.
But back when I dated her, Cusseta was quite a drive home late at night. Many nights I would notice something paralleling me home. One night on the old Opelika highway, ironically in front of the Mullin's farm. I stopped the car in the road and got out. One was just sitting there as it had stopped with me. Another approached and it came close to the first and it stopped as well. The first one flashed it's lights twice and headed back in the direction of town. Well I stood there for a minute or so and got back in the car and drove home. It followed me. When I got home and parked the car, I walked out to the end of the driveway and waved at it. It too flashed it's light twice and left. About the only thing I could figure out was that these things wanted to make sure I made it home okay.
So yeah, things in the night skies were nothing new to me. But the one at the post office was definitely the closest I had been to one, that I was aware of.
I was use to the objects in the sky and I was happy to have some one else see for a change. But what I would encounter in the woods alone I was not prepared for. In one of the stupidest things I could come up with. I would find myself terrified and completely surrounded...
Chapter Twenty One
Return to the woods.
John was out of the picture after the car chase. Roger bailed after being watched every where he went. Joe just disappeared after the floating object event. Monkey man shook him up but the object really freaked him out. Monkey man no, but quiet floating object had him gone. His reaction to it still has me baffled. At least I still saw and talked to John and Roger. And by the way things seemed to stop happening around them when the distanced themselves from me.
Nothing up to now had really bothered me, it all seemed just surreal. I was only trying to figure out one thing and more and more things just piled up. The original investigation, if it were, was lost now in confusion. That confusion would strip me of a scientific approach. It would turn off the analytical mind. It would send me back to cartoon land.
There was an old Bugs Bunny cartoon where he used music to hypnotize the Tasmanian Devil. And this is how far I had fallen. Had I really just lost it? I was going to try music to find monkey man. Sure, why not? Nothing was making any sense. I thought maybe just go with the flow. Between the regular patterns, in full randomness.
I was going back to the woods and taking my guitar. Probably the stupidest thing I had came up with. But the results changed me forever.
No John, no Roger and no Joe. Just me and a guitar going to the woods to serenade a monkey man. And I didn't play the guitar all that well either. But I did have a little melody I thought would work. And that was my plan, just to see what would happen. And it did get the attention of something. But not at all what I expected.
It was just a random afternoon. Nothing seemed to be going on anywhere. I grabbed my old acoustic guitar and headed out the door. I drove up to the little league road, turned and went down to the dead end. I sat there in the car for a few minutes. First thinking, am I really doing this? Am I really going to go into the woods with a guitar and try to play up a monkey man? This was idiotic. But then I thought, what happens if one does show up? What would I do? Heck, what would it do? I had never heard of any body being killed by a monkey man. But FBI statistics do show that on average thirty five thousand Americans go missing every year.
And then I thought of what would I tell some one if they saw me coming back out of the woods with a guitar. I damn sure would not say I was in there playing to monkey man.
Finally I just got out of the car grabbed the guitar and headed straight into the woods. Immediately I felt strange. The further I walked the more weird it got. My skin began to crawl, like I was going through hot areas and cold areas and hot again. It was like sweating and having chills. I made it only about seventy yards in and it's like my feet would not go any further. And I wasn't going to argue with them. If there was a thing like spidey sense I was definitely feeling it. It's as if my body was in total fear but my mind was just confused. I mean it was daylight I could see all around me. But this was almost like a panic feel. Not something I had ever felt. Even when falling through the roof of houses on fire. Not even with stuff exploding around me in other firefighting situations. I had never felt scared or panicky. Even times when I would turn to find my back up had abandoned me. I just calmly kept doing my job.
But here in the woods, nothing to see or hear to promote a reaction, but I was totally starting to freak out. And yet I had no idea why. I grasp for my composure, I tried to focus my mind on the task at hand. I even started to focus on the plant life and began to identify each I saw. Trying only to focus on the immediate vicinity. This seemed to be working for the moment.
I found a felled tree that was perfect to sit on. I sat right down on it and began to try and pick out my little melody. It felt as though a hundred eyes were on me. As I played this little tune I begin to hear movement around me. All around me.Completely all around me. And this movement was moving closer.It was like a big circle of movement that was shrinking. The sounds were like some one taking a few steps and stopping. And then taking a few more steps and stopping.
I began to feel a whole range of emotions. But they were not mine. It was as if I was feeling some one else and their thoughts. I felt a great curiosity and then a fear of some kind. I picked up on some anger and then curiosity again. It was just one after another in waves over me. And the circle kept getting smaller around me. It had started at about the limit of hearing some one walking in the woods, maybe thirty yards. Now this was down to like thirty feet. I still had not seen a single thing. But the movement was approaching from all around. The sounds were clear and definite, but nothing was there. I could hear the twigs crack beneath the steps, even the pine straw crumble. The leaves shuffle as the steps continued to approach me.
I had already stopped playing the guitar. As I would hear the steps over my shoulder, I would turn to see nothing. Then the movement would come from behind me, I would again turn and see nothing. Now not only had I stopped playing the guitar, but now I was standing and quickly turning from one sound to the other as they kept getting closer and closer.
The emotional waves continued. It was now more like questions and more curiosity. Still though, I felt one strong source of anger. This circle around me now was no more than ten feet. But now with the sounds I saw small bushes move as if some one walked by it. My logical mind would say it was just the wind or a small bird I failed to see. But then one of the areas of sound came straight towards me. I could hear each foot step and saw the brush move aside and flip back. And then I saw the foot steps on the ground. No feet, just indentions in the leaves of where feet should be. Invisible feet. They walked right up to me and stopped about three feet away. Something, something was standing there. I could see exactly where it was standing, and yet I could see nothing.
I could feel like a hundred questions going through my mind. Not my questions. These were as if some one was telepathically asking question after question. And extremely fast, I could not even begin to answer one before two or three more were flying through my thoughts. And then I broke the process and thought to myself. Why am I not totally freaking out? I am completely surrounded, alone in the woods. Something invisible standing right in front of me. I could still see the impression in the leaves and straw.
But then I realized my body was freaking out, but it's like I was detached from it. I tried to make my hand reach out to touch whatever was standing there. At first I could not get anything to move. But just as I got my hand to rise up a little. I felt a sudden surge of anger from behind me. Then that charge toward me, like the boulder rolling down hill. I remember trying to run, but I do not remember running. The next thing I know I am at the car getting in and feeling more fear than I can describe. I tore it up getting out of there. I drove home in pure panic mode. Which strangely disappeared when I got home.
Okay that was it, the freak level had gone off the charts for me now. There was something in those woods, I may not can see it. But for it to have foot steps appear on the ground it had some form of mass. And I grabbed the three fifty seven magnum, two speed loaders and dumped the loose bullets in my pocket. Mass was going to meet mass in the form of lead hollow points. Damn logic, damn science, damn everything. I was armed and ready for war. And I was about to return to the woods...
Chapter Twenty Two
The end...or beginning
Let's start with the end. When I decided to write this down I went back and looked everything over. Almost everything had changed.The post office was now a Subway sandwich shop. The dead end street was now a cut through road. The section of woods I ventured off into was now cut away and a new section of school. The old Terry's grocery was gone and an entirely new building was there. The church was now one big solid structure. But after all these years, all the years of rain and erosion, there were still reminates of the old pull off. Times had surely changed, or had they?
When I started writing this story down I also went with posting each chapter as I completed them. Which made it quite interesting on my end as comments and testimonials began pouring in. Not only from locals who live here, but from all over the country. Many similar stories or circumstances.
Even had friends from Facebook contact me and we get together to go out and make the midnight rides. Seems there are always cats hanging out at the grocery store which is now the Rainbow Foods. But none like the Devil's cat. On one occasion one guy and myself had made the ride up and down the road several times and as we rode back down we noticed some bright red items on the edge of the road we had not noticed before. I had to stop the car and get out with a flash light to check this out. It was big red Bell peppers. Sitting right on the stripe of the road. We turned around again and went back up the road and counted twelve of them. Each and every one sitting right squarely on the line. Now we had passed a couple of cars that could have tossed out the peppers. But what in the heck are the odds that each and every one would come to a rest on a four inch wide paint strip. Especially if they were tossed out while some one was driving down the road? People have contacted me about the lights, saying they saw them at the exact same place. I have heard from several that have reported dead cats in their yard. Bleeding from the ears and nose. People have told me their pets act differently on Tuesday and Thursday nights. One even posted a comment about the old fire station still having the strange incidents.
To be continued...