Growing up, I didn’t believe in cryptids. Stories about mysterious creatures were fascinating, sure, but they always felt like fiction. That all changed one summer night in East Canton, Ohio. My cryptid encounter shook me to the core.
It was August 1991, and a rough argument with my girlfriend had pushed me to escape to the woods for some solitude. Camping by myself wasn’t common for me, but I needed the peace. I packed light—a blanket, flashlight, and my trusty machete—and set out alone into familiar forest trails.
The spot I chose for the night was special—a forest clearing above abandoned coal mines, blanketed by tall pine trees. I’d camped here countless times, so it felt like a natural refuge.
The Night Takes a Dark Turn
As night fell, I set up a small fire to keep warm. My friends, Randy and Tony, had come by to help me set up camp but left before sundown. The woods fell into silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional snap of twigs.
Suddenly, I woke up around 3 a.m., jolted by an overwhelming sense of dread. The quietness felt heavy—unnatural. I strained to listen, expecting to hear a rabbit or a small animal. But it was dead silent, not even a cricket chirped. I brushed it off as a bad dream.
Then, I heard a blood-curdling scream—a guttural, powerful roar that echoed across the clearing. I froze. The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard. It seemed to pierce through me, vibrating every nerve. This wasn’t an animal I’d ever encountered, and it was close.
I strained my eyes in the moonlit darkness and spotted a massive, hairy figure moving about 30 feet away. It was too big to be a bear and walked on two legs. My mind raced as I stared, captivated and terrified. Could this really be Bigfoot?
Return for Answers
The next day, I had to share my story with Randy and Tony. Although skeptical, they agreed to return to the campsite with me for a second night—armed with a tape recorder and fresh batteries.
We camped as before, but this time I was hyper-aware of every sound. The woods remained silent as we settled in. At 3 a.m., the eerie dread crept over me again, waking me from a deep sleep. Randy, also awake, looked just as unnerved. Then, just like the night before, the scream shattered the silence, piercing the stillness with the same bone-chilling intensity.
We recorded the sounds as best we could, but we were too shaken to stay any longer. Hastily packing up, we made our way out of the woods.
Chilling Evidence
That second encounter left a lasting mark. To this day, I remember the sound—the scream that felt more like a warning, a reminder that we weren’t alone. Randy and Tony, once doubters, now shared in my fear and belief.
The tape we recorded still brings chills, although skeptics remain. Was it Bigfoot? A creature beyond explanation? I may never know, but I do know this: it wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t imagined.
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