D (18:00)

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D (18:55)

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A (19:25)

This perhaps is one of the most interesting things to ever happen to me. In my 36 years in this realm, I have perhaps encountered a Sasquatch or a Freaky Bear, or perhaps had an experience with extraterrestrials. And I've definitely met some very strange, creepy people in Northern California. This experience, however, is just an experience. I have no idea how to explain. Nor do I know what to think, nor do I ever want to think about it ever, ever again. However, I feel as if I have to get this one off my chest because it is weird and oftentimes I have very strange dreams that are involved around it and it makes me believe subconsciously I suppose, that I have never dealt with a possible trauma from what had happened. I was born and raised in New Mexico and ended up moving to California with my father throughout the rest of my life with the exception of some stints here and there due to jobs and whatnot. Normally I avoid New Mexico like the plague. It is a haunted, godforsaken, rattlesnake infested hellhole. My mother and my sister however, just refuse to leave the desolate wasteland and so oftentimes I have to go down there and visit, especially when my mother got cancer. She's fine now though she had a tumor on her parathyroid and it was removed thankfully, so the backstory is over. Onward with the actuality of what had happened. I was driving my piece of crap Honda down the highway when it just ran out of gas. I found that odd because when I had started the car and initially I still had a quarter of a tank, but such is I guess it just sort of sputtered out in the middle of the highway around the end of the road of the reservation. I knew that there was a gas station about a mile away once I managed to get out onto the highway. So I took my empty gas canister out of my trunk and walked out in the heat. I had a backpack of Gatorades and water bottles to avoid heatstroke. I was aware I could lose quite a bit of electrolytes very quickly on the road I walked down. It was very complicated to call my sister Kelly to let her know where I was and what the situation was because there just did not seem to be signal anywhere. I walked and I walked sticking my thumb out to no avail for there were no reservation police or other passerby trucks. It seemed as if I was all alone out in the brightness heated sunshiny day out in the middle of freaking nowhere New Mexico. As I walked and I walked I saw a dead hummingbird on the ground. I found that very sad at first, yet as I walked further and further I found it odd that there was even a hummingbird there in the first place. They are not typically seen in the area from where I come from. They are not non existent, but they're just super duper rare to see. There's not A bunch of what I would consider to be the sort of nectar they seek, nor pollen from flowers of which they desire. Further along I continue down the open road with the sun beating down upon me. Soon after that, I saw another dead hummingbird. Now I thought, this is getting weird. Weirder and weirder. Perhaps, I suppose deep down I sort of subconsciously preferred to consider it just a coincidence. It was only after a few hundred yards more that I saw another one. And then shortly after another one and another, and then another, and then more, and then even more. It came to a point where there were more common, constant. Dead hummingbird started to trail away from the side of the road and then make a trail off, away and into the berm. This may have been a bad idea on my part, but my weakness has always been that my curiosity is preferred to get the better of me, which is what killed the cat. So I followed the trail of dead hummingbirds. It was almost like a Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb trail. It seemed as if it was some sort of methodically laid out plan of follow the dead hummingbirds if you dare. It went on and on until I had passed the berm and completely away from the road and now in the arroyo and deep down amidst the few sparse trees to and fro. And that was where I found was. It was something I'm not sure I could ever describe. It was just like this. This strange pile of dead hummingbirds, like. Like it was freaking huge. Maybe about two feet from the ground. A huge, massive, disturbing pile of them. I sort of stood there rather perplexed, and I scanned all around the place to see if there was more of an indication as to what trail transpired. Yet there was nada, nothing, zilch. It seemed as if there was just an inexplicable pile of dead hummingbirds out in the middle of the desert. It looked like a holocaust of them. That's when the real weirdness happened. There was this very strange, shaky, quivering sort of hum that. That was more than just audible. No, this was also physical. I cannot say that the ground was shaking. I would rather say it seemed as if my head did. I began to feel a bit nauseous. And the first thing I thought to myself was, get up on out of here. Like a coward, I did. I ran and I ran. And the worst decision I didn't even realize that I had made is I just started running randomly without any adherence from where I originally came from. Basically I was just running in a direction without any regard. It took me a solid 30, 45 minutes running throughout the arroyo to find the road again. Some native was driving down the road when I stumbled out from the side of the road and he picked me up and gave me a ride to the casino that had a gas station. And when I filled up he offered to give me a ride back to my car. He could tell that I was shaken up and I could sort of sense he didn't want to broach the subject, but sort of felt as if he should. So he asked me if all was alright. I didn't want to go into it much, but I sort of explained a few of the details, but only a few for fear of sounding like an absolute whack job after what I had told him. His silence is what unnerved me the most. He either thought I was nuts or he straight up did not want to talk about it. Eventually that hum, he said, yeah, it makes me sick too. I filled up my tank, I went to work, I apologized for being late and I explained what had happened. Nobody at my job site wanted to speak of it. Fast forward about a week and a half or so, perhaps two. My sister woke me up asking if I could sweep the front walkway because she was too grossed out. I did not know what to infer, but I love my little sister and I would do anything she asked. I suppose I wish she had told me it was just one ridden with dead lizards just laying on their backs, the bluish gross veins exposed upon their bellies, ants upon ants, just completely devouring them. It was at best disturbing. So I got the push broom and I pushed them off the walkway and that's when the hum began again and I just sort of fell to my knees and could not stop feeling nauseous and began vomiting a bit. My sister and I have always kept this from my ma because I didn't know how she would react. I do not know what happens out there in that strange part of New Mexico, but I will say this. If you ever stumble across tiny dead animals, like a pile of them just out in the middle of the desert, just leave it be. And if you hear the hum, never ever return. Hablas espanol? Spritz du dzoich?

D (28:30)

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A (29:00)

I remember it was unusual for there to be fog in that time of year out along the beaches of la. I will not divulge where or when precisely as to avoid as much condescension for sounding like a madman. It was bonfire night where all folks in the neighborhood and all others considered to be cool enough were all invited out to the beach. And so thus all of us went, friends and strangers alike, out to the beach, out to smoke and drink and witness the younger crazy kids spin fire and poi and all of that other stuff they are so into. The reason that I was there at all was because I had a friend named Ben who absolutely insisted I come along to this cool bonfire party out along the beach. Ben's always been a great guy. I've known him for 25 years. He was on Broadway, cast predominantly as a singer. I was proud. And also I was the best man at his wedding. I know this man. But things can change. There was this girl, and she seemed really cool. Long blonde hair, curves, magnetic blue eyes. A dream come true. For me, that is. I sat out there away from the bonfire upon a log, contemplating other things and also contemplating this girl, this beautiful girl who comes up to me and introduces herself. Me of all people. She asks, what are you doing sitting here all by your lonesome? You want to rip this? I would have been a fool not to partake. So, of course, yours truly, your humble narrator. Well, I'll just say it was partaken. So, yeah, I got stoned. She was hot. Don't judge me. Like I had mentioned prior, I found it strange that it was such an unusually foggy, misty night at this locale at this time of year. It was almost as if a cloud had decided to drop onto the beach line, which is strange. Next thing I know, Ben approaches me and the cute girl I was talking about talking to at that moment, and he asks me, want to take a walk? That seemed like a strange question to me because I had supposed it was readily apparent that I was totally satisfied where I was and where I sat, being interviewed by a bombshell buxom blonde. Her and I inexplicably, both said yes. And onward and onward into the night we went further into the fog and into the mist with absolutely no regard to our questions or our instincts. Yet I do Vaguely remember feeling like I was being called to do something from somewhere I knew not. It was such an odd feeling looking back upon it now. So Ben, this girl and I, we walked off past the bonfire, past the organic light source and into the inexplicable fog and mystery. One of the last things I remember from that evening is seeing a big bright light enraptured protectively by the mist and fog. And so of course I thought to myself, yeah man, why not? And so on I walked, trying to walk into the light, obscured by the smoke and fog and mistake and cloud and whatnot. I woke up with my alarm clock off like madness at three in the afternoon. A setting I have never set it upon. I was late for work. Upon my thigh rested a nasty BB sized bump that rested in a sort of obsessive trance. I could not leave it alone. All I wanted to do was pick and scratch at it. The workplace was already amiss from the moment I set my foot through the door. The owner of the establishment already says to me, rick, I need to speak with you in my office. Walking into the office of this piece of crap I worked with for so long, I was ever so curious what he had to say this time. Why didn't you come into work yesterday? I'm sorry, I was late. I usually make it by my 2 o' clock shift and. And then the interruption happened in which he said, yeah, you were supposed to be at work at 2 yesterday and now here you are a day late and a dollar short. So I left. I left because I was confused. I sort of remembered being with Ben the night prior, so I figured he'd be able to fill in the details. He's always been an awesome friend like that. So yeah, I drove to Huntington beach to visit him and his wife at his apartment complex. Now, I have always known that Cleo was a shy woman, but I had earned my stripes with her and I was best man at her wedding. It was so strange to see her with the chains and the bolts attached to the door as she opened it. Yeah? She asked me. Hey Cleo, I said. I was hoping to speak with Ben. He can't speak is what she replied with onward and onward. Into the light we walked into the mist, into the fog. But the stranger beacon of light that dwelled inside of it, that is the one that kept us all going into the white light. I walked. What? I asked her. He doesn't want to speak to me? No, she said. It's not that he doesn't want to speak with you. He Just cannot speak. This was an immediate thing and or occurrence that perturbed disturbed me. I mean like what decidedly I barged in through the door to check it upon my best friend where in which I found him lying upon the floor struggling to scream with the most clog stopped guttural sound protruding from his throat. It's in my. It's in my voice. It's in my throat. He wriggled and riled on the floor and Cleo and I witnessed him convulse upon the floor before he just fell asleep again. This was a man who performed on Broadway and he had the voice of an angel for someone to scream at me in a night terror daydream walk. Yeah, it's scary when one says it's in my voice, it's in my throat. I figured my best friend had a thing going on and alone is where I left him When I returned home however is where I began with the picking and scratching and the BB sized bump. I had been picking at it more and more so then it just popped out of my leg just like a BB sized bullet would when not being pursued. It rolled underneath the refrigerator. So yeah, in a bit of bewilderment there I sat just witnessing. I sat in the kitchen with the tension and the silence and being a part of a foreign alien BB rolled outside of my thigh and under the refrigerator. And yes, I asked myself what just popped out of my body? Ben. And I never got to speak much after that. I never got to expect explain how there was a hole taken out of my thigh. I never got to ask him how it could ever be possible that he and I lost an entire day. Why did he scream if it was in his throat, in his voice. Oftentimes I am asked by others if I speak to Ben these days I do, but not much anymore and not in the same way. Unfortunately, when we do speak to each other he absolutely refuses to discuss what happened that evening. It's frustrating for me because I have so many questions. Oftentimes I am asked to reveal the hole punch taken out of my thigh and it looks insane and I am tired of the cross talk. I can't explain it. Most folks tell me I was just high or something within that caliber. But when you've done every drug underneath the sun it's rather easy to tell them when you might have experienced something that did not happen within this world, within this universe. And I asked myself almost every day what exactly happened? Where did I go? What happened to my best friend? Why did that blonde beauty disappear and how exactly did I lose an entire day out of my life? And why is there a hole in my thigh? I like to think I'd certainly remember that sort of pain being inflicted upon me. Seriously dude, why is there a hole hole in my thigh?

C (38:50)

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A (39:36)

Uh, Limu is that guy with the binoculars watching us?

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D (40:19)

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A (41:18)

I was 27 and working at a Boy Scout camp, far up in the woods of very northerly Northern California where I worked, had a large population of black bears, which for the most part were rather harmless and easy enough to scare away with a shot from a rifle. However, we had a large number of Boy Scouts at this camp weekly, sometimes as many as 500 heads. And with a lot of vastly spread out campsites, there's going to be a few campers who sleep with candy bars in their pockets and basically make themselves a prepackaged dinner snack for a bear. I tell you this, black bears love Reese's peanut butter cups. As part of staff, oftentimes I was scheduled for bear watch and basically strolled the entirety of the camp with a weapon, going from site to site, making my presence known so as to ensure the bearers wouldn't come anywhere near. On one of these routine nights, everything was more stunned still and more quiet than usual. And I remember finding it rather odd and unsettling. I had just checked in on the camp the furthest away from all the other campsites. It was a good half mile away from base proper. As I'm strolling along the trail that runs beside the lake, I stopped to take a number one and light a joint that I had stashed away for such an occasion, for being out by the lake at 2 in the morning. As human beings, we have natural gut feelings that we must always adhere to for our survival. There was definitely a gut feeling I had that things were amiss. Not only was it unusually still and quiet, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched and that I was most certainly not alone. I nervously took a few puffs from my J and then put it out now being more aware of the unnerving scents in the air. I have been face to face with a bear. I have been stalked by a mountain lion. I have slept a little too close to a den of coyotes late in the night. But this was different. I didn't have the sense that I was in the presence of any of these animals. The smell was overwhelming. It didn't smell like any bear I've experienced. It was almost sour, but still musky. I'll never forget the smell, but I can never find the words to properly describe it. As I reached for my flashlight before considering readying my weapon, a massive boom hit the ground, falling from the trees above and nearly knocking me on my butt from the sheer force of it. I reached for my flashlight that had fallen to the ground as I heard something large, something massive running away from me into the tree. Line up into the hill above. Immediately, I considered it was probably the biggest bear I'd ever come across, and black bears can be spooked easily. So at first, I considered myself lucky. But as I lay there hyperventilating, shaking and quaking in my boots, I started to consider the sound of the beast running away. It didn't sound like the stride of a black bear in flight. It sounded bipedal. It sounded human. I braced myself, stood up, readied my weapon, released the safety, and shot upward into the air toward the lake. It woke many campers and the scoutmasters alike. I stood out there for a good 10 minutes alone before camp leader and some other staff came to me. During that time, I had my flashlight out and was inspecting the scene. Whatever had dropped from the branches above fell from possibly 20ft and in its wake of running away, had torn off branches off into the hill line that stood 13ft from the ground. And some smaller trees were bent almost all the way down into the ground. I have never seen a bear do that, that's for sure. By the time some of the staff and some concerned campers arrived, everybody was slightly stumped. Most campers, to comfort themselves, insisted it was just a bear. I do know this. No bear running on all fours stands 13ft tall, and no bear can run on two feet for 12 yards uphill on two legs. They just don't do that. We are all thinking it, so I'll just say, say it. I think I encountered a Sasquatch that night. If not, I don't know what it was, but I'm glad it was running away from me and not at me. Because whatever that thing was, beast or man, it was gargantuan, and I would not have stood a chance if it had decided to confront me.

B (46:48)

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C (47:06)

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A (47:52)

Around the time that I was about 22 or 23, I was a paid professional stage actor. It was one of the most wonderful gigs I have ever had in my life, with the exception of one experience. The theater building itself was supposedly haunted. I myself by now can sort of confirm that it is, unless what happened to me was something else that I just straight up cannot ever explain for the rest of my days. To give the backstory, the theater building I worked at was a library prior around the 1920s through the 30s. However, when a young girl was assaulted and murdered and left in the middle of an aisle upstairs without anybody noticing or hearing, the library was immediately shut down. It was a thing. A few decades went on, and then around the 1960s, they turned the old library into a round stage theater with a catwalk up by the ceiling. Even before I was cast in the production, I had already been aware that the theater was supposedly haunted. According to of course, I was intrigued, but I knew better than to tempt spirits by taunting them or making fun of them. That's just bad juju. So I just sort of ignored the stories and the tall tales of the ghost. The stories were all the same from the other actors who had worked in the theater building. It's a little girl. They'd all say she doesn't like women. They'd all say she has crushes on certain boys. They'd all say that was the word on the street and in the building. Okay, okay. Now, while being in this production, I had a fellow cast member who was just a bombshell of a woman. Gorgeous, intelligent, a dancer, everything that makes a woman wonderful. A wonder woman, if you will. She was almost technically a dwarf. She stood at a whopping 4 foot 9. I don't like using words like tiny or small, but I mean, Jules stands at a whopping 4 foot 9. She's short, you know. Never underestimate that Though that girl can still kick your butt. Always be weary of tiny dancers. Cause they have the strength and discipline. Jules and I still talk to this day as friends. She told me once that she was in the woman's dressing room about 20 minutes before curtain. She was sitting down on a chair, combing her hair, looking at herself in the mirror after applying her makeup. And then there was a tug from her long hair that pulled her all the way down from out of her chair onto the floor. To this day, she swears she was the only person in the woman's changing room. There was just no explanation for it. No explanation she can come up with. And she's smart and doesn't lie. Jules is not a liar, and she does not tolerate fancy stories. So, of course, everybody, myself included, believed her. It was strange. Kodai was this really handsome man who was almost losing his mind because his props and costumes would just disappear out of thin air and were never anywhere to be found. He would scream and yell before curtain. I had my bench right here. I had my shoes over there. Why are they gone? I promise you, I did not move them. Yeah, he would say that every night before curtain. There was a kid. I forget his name, but he played the young boy in the show. And always, always, he would say, every night during intermission, I am standing backstage waiting for my cue to walk on stage for the beginning of act, too. There is a breathing thrust upon the back of my neck. And every single time I turn my head, there's nothing there, and I'm scared. This poor kid was probably about 12 or 13 at best. And to me, when I was about 23, well, to me, it sounded terrifying. Savannah was my scene partner, and she and I had gone to high school together, so the camaraderie was already there. So when she told me that she felt terrified to be alone in the theater, I believed her. She had a part of Act 2 where she was required to be on the catwalk to drop a long canvas. That was a sort of the backdrop visually for a scene. Savannah would get tired, though, and while she would lay there on the catwalk, hoping not to be seen, she would accidentally start to fall asleep. If she fell asleep, the production would have consequences if the scene change could not happen. Every night, she said to me, every night I fall asleep. And then moments before my cue, I hear a little girl's voice say, coo, coo, coo, Lulu L. And then I wake up and drop the canvas sheet and get back downstairs to make sure I get on stage on time. Every Single night this happens. So onward onto my part of the story and or experience. There was this matinee on a Saturday. After the matinee we got our dinner break and the entire cast would go take dinner and converse and enjoy ourselves. We had our 8 o' clock show and another at midnight. I decided to head back to the theater building early so I might pass out on the couch and sleep for a few hours before I had to get back into costume, yadda yadda. Saying that it must be made clear that I had had the keys to the building and I could open up the theater doors. Once I approached the theater doors, I was actually trusted enough for that. Perhaps that was a curse within its very own self. Logically, the first task I always presented myself with was to turn on all the lights around the building, which I did this evening. There was a bathroom downstairs and there was a bathroom upstairs. For an inexplicable reason to me, some thought in my head that I had that I still cannot explain even to this day, I decided to use the upstairs bathroom, which was located by the costume storage. I had never really used it before and it does not seem sensical to me, but that was the choice that I had made. I marched up the curling, winding, spiraling stairs built way back in the day. I turned on the lights upstairs and proceeded down the hallway and into the bathroom and turned on the bathroom lights. It felt off to me. The air, the energy, the spirit of it all. It was very strange to me. It was very unsettling, unnerving and awkward. I figured it was due to me being completely alone in the theater building, especially at nighttime. Only then did thoughts enter my mind. It's a little girl. They'd all say she doesn't like women. They'd all say she has crushes on certain boys. They'd all say reasonably. The thoughts put me on edge and I got super nervous, like shivering at a cold chill that was absent from the room. When I had finished with my business, consistently looking back behind me, I opened the bathroom door to find that all of the lights had been shut off. The entirety of the theater was pitch black, with the exception of the bathroom, whereupon I had just turned on the lights. Through that little light protruding from the bathroom, it traced along the hallway and looking down it, I saw the silhouette of Jules. Ah, I said to myself playfully. She turned off the lights and wants to fool around. I had been feeling tired and sort of wanted to nap. But no young man in his right mind turns down the opportunity to get in on Some frisky action, especially when such an attractive lady is insisting. I marked where she was standing in the hallway, and as the door closed behind me and the hallway became breached with complete darkness, I had already calculated where she was standing. Hey you. As I approached where she stood, I put my arms out for an embrace. There was no response, though. There was nothing there. Oh, I see. I said excitedly. You want to play games with me. So I walked further and further down the hallway. Putting my hands out in front of me, I realized I had made it to the costume storage racks and racks of old clothes and wardrobe and costumes, aisles and aisles of them. In the complete darkness, I put my hands here and there, feeling my way around, touching the fabrics that hung on their hangers, on the racks, expecting to find jewels. It ended up just resulting in more searching. Where are you? I asked. Come on, where are you? That was when it started to sink in. That's when it hit me. This feeling of being watched, being witnessed, being warned. There was this insatiable amount of dread percolating through my blood vessels. Immediately I was very, very uncomfortable and scared. That's when the giggle came. Not a laugh, a soft, silly child sounding giggle. Who's there? Who is that? I asked. A jacket of some sort or something fell off of its hanger and landed on my shoulders, draped around me. I cannot remember if I screamed, I just may have, but I knew I ran in the dark into a hundred of other clothing racks that shook and fell. It took me some time to readjust where I was and to get my bearings and figure out what part of the room I was in. Finally finding the spiral stairway, I ended up completely bombing it, completely failing and just falling down the stairs like a rag doll. After a loud moan from feeling like I had just busted my ribs, I found my footing and ran into a few walls before I finally found the front doors. I burst them open so quickly and I just ran. I didn't care if I left them unlocked. Running down into the parking lot, the whole cast and crew were approaching. There was Jules along with all of them. There was just no way she was to able ever, even in the theater. Hey. I shouted at her. Did you just mess with me? What? She looked at me inquisitively. No. What are you talking about? I thought I saw you in there. I told her, panicking. You turned off the lights. The stage manager for the show just looked at me calmly, plain as day. Oh, that's just the ghost. If she turns off the lights, it just means she likes you. The entirety of the production prior had led me to no experiences with said ghost, and nothing ever happened after that either. So I grow curious from time to time whenever I ponder upon it. What happened? Was it in my head? A trick of the light? And when I grow more curious, I wonder, why then, when so many others were having these strange experiences and I wasn't. Why did it happen then, when I was all alone? It's a little girl. She doesn't like women. She has crushes on certain boys. As flattered as I should have been, to this day I still am terrified whenever I think about it. I haven't worked for that theater ever since. It's.