Haunted Cosmos - Is Bigfoot A Faerie?

Episode Date: April 3, 2024

In this episode of Haunted Cosmos, Brian and Ben boldly ask the question that has been on everyone's mind for millennia: is Bigfoot a faerie?Love Haunted Cosmos? Get access to our exclusive show, The Dusty Tome, early ad-free access to main episodes, monthly AMA's, and livestreams with Ben and Brian by becoming a patron of the show: https://www.patreon.com/c/HauntedCosmosBuy the Haunted Cosmos book: https://www.newchristendompress.com/cosmos PS: It's also available as an audiobook!Want to keep nefarious fairy Bigfoots away and also avoid icky seed oils, preservatives, artificial colorants, and other nasties in your daily shower routine? Then check out the vast array of homemade soaps from our friends at Indigo Sundries Soap Co.! Go to indigosundriessoap.com to learn more—and as our gift to you, use code HAUNTEDCOSMOS for 10% off your whole order!This episode is sponsored by Squirrelly Joe's Coffee! Visit their website here to purchase your first bag!  Share Coffee. Serve Humbly. Live faithfully. This episode is also sponsored by Gray Toad Tallow! Check out graytoadtallow.com and use discount code COSMOS15 for 15% off of your order.This episode is also sponsored by Dominion Wealth Strategists! Book your complimentary consultation by visiting their website today.This episode is also sponsored by Rooted Pines Homestead! Visit their website today and get 10% off your order by using code HAUNTEDCOSMOS10 at checkout.Finally, this episode is also sponsored by Stonecrop Wealth Advisors! Go to this link to check out their special offers to Haunted Cosmos listeners today.Support the show

This episode of Haunted Cosmos is brought to you by Dominion Wealth Strategists, Rooted Pines Homestead, Gray Toad Tallow, Squirrely Joe's Coffee, Stonecrop Wealth Advisors, and our supporters at Patreon.com. Did you know that our top two patrons get early access to all of our main shows and all of our patrons get our main shows ad-free? Patrons also get access to our exclusive weekly show, The Dusty Tome, only available on patreon.com. So if you like the show, consider becoming a patron today to get access to all these benefits and more. And now on with the show. Hello!

Sometime in the early 1940s, a humble resident of a small port town on the rocky and enchanted southern shores of Alaska stepped out of his door to greet the thick morning air. He stood tall and breathed in deep as he faced the barely lit woods that met him at his house's threshold. The early morning didn't bother him. One month. must grow used to such living in this part of the world. Instead, this man, Tom Larson, had grown to cherish the quiet serenity and cold bite of the ethereal northern mornings. A small fern-line path led from his home and disappeared into thick fog some yards down from him. The trees stood like dark sentries at the gate of an unknown dreamland ahead of him.

Somewhere in their as-yet-unlit halls was the larger road that his little path led to, flowing down into the small town he called home. But alas, town was not where he would be heading down on this particular morning. No, he had traps to check before any other plans for the day could be made. Thinking nothing of the dense fog, uncanny light, and utterly still and cold air, Larson buttoned his jacket and confidently began the short hike down his dirt trail, straight across the pine-canopied main road, and onto the small game trail that stretched towards the river on the other side of it.

He trudged through the loamy and cushioned soil, turning round bins and dipping under felled trees, with the automatic movements of a man who has made this very same trip countless times, indeed almost every morning. The drizzling rain that fell and much larger drops from the needles of the trees overhead calmed his mind. A white noise underlying his world that opened up his mind to, well, nothing. He was able to just exist, for a moment at least, without any cares in the world, the next step of a rock and route. It was in this state that he rounded the final bend that blocked his view of the river.

But as he raised his head from the path immediately before his feet, thoughtlessly expecting to see the river, he was struck with something other than that familiar sight. He was struck with fear, no panic. A strangling, coiling kind of fear that quickly rose to near terror. Not even a football field away there stooped a large bear over the top of his fish trap that he was coming to collect. Tom dared not take his eyes off the beast as he crouched down quietly. His instincts screamed for cover to be hidden from the creature's sight, even as his hunter's training automatically surveyed the wind, hoping it wasn't blowing his scent directly towards the beast.

He cursed himself for being so complacent as to leave his rifle back at home as he crouched low, stone still and observed the bear trying to steal his fish. After a few seconds, he grew up. He grew relieved at the fact that the animal had clearly not heard, smelled, or seen him, praise God for rain, favorable winds, and dense foliage. After some seconds more, his trepidation at the creature transposed into a deep mixture of dread, excitement, and stress. This bear was acting strange. In fact, it was actually no bear at all.

Larson presently noted the ease with which this beast rose, standing up on legs that were noticeably larger than the other limbs. It used these smaller limbs to hold the fish cage right in front of its concealed face, as if studying the contraption to comprehend its construction. He reeled with the terrible confirmation of what his subconscious mind had already concluded in these brief moments of observation. This wasn't a bear. This was the creature, the one he had heard so many tell of, standing there before him, flesh and bone, reaching carefully into his trap. He was a bear. He was a watched as it grabbed a single unlucky fish from inside, removing it without touching any of the trap's sides with an almost delicate control. He was so close that he could even perceive,

even if only just, the sound of the fish's crunching bones and exploding eyes between the creature's teeth. With all the stealth he could muster, Larson shrank back behind the bend, and walking backwards from many yards to ensure he remained unnoticed, made his way back towards home. he felt confident that the rain's droning would fully hide his noises, and so he turned and began to sprint the rest of the way. Once back, he didn't stay and hide. Who could do such a thing? Instead, he grabbed his rifle and sprinted right back to that spot by the river. The sweat on his brow mixed with rain and pushed salt down into his eyes as he ran. He squinted and rubbed them thoroughly with the soaking sleeve before continuing on. Before turning around that final bend, he paused for

just long enough to get his breathing back under control. Larson, of course, did not want to risk being noticed, but feared that his added caution would somehow serve to his detriment. After all, the beast didn't recognize him before, and he had just been behaving as if he was the only man on earth. He softly pressed the rifle against his chest, stocked to ground and barrel to sky, closed his eyes,

and took one final deep breath in through the nose and out of his mouth. He eased around the bend, carefully ducking within the cover of the ground, greenery and watching carefully for any twigs or loose stones that may block his way through his periphery. To a slight surprise, the creature still stood in almost the exact spot he had left it. Though the fish was long eaten, the trap seemed to mesmerize the being, arousing its curiosity. Larson crept closer than he had been before, as close as he dared. Still he remained undetected as he slowly rose up next to a mossy and leafy tree that served to block his bull,

from the line of sight of whatever this thing was. He would be counted at least a fool, if not an invalid, if he missed from this distance and with this clear of a shot. He felt the familiar solidity of the rifle stock against his shoulder, as he slowly raised the gun until the beat of his sight lingered on the center mass of the prey. With an almost exaggerated slowness, he pulled the hammer back with his thumb until it found its seat with a subtle but unmistakably mechanical click. that was his mistake. At that slightest of irregular sounds, the creature whirled around to face

his stalker with a speed that defied its shaggy bulk. Its keen senses needed no other input, immediately identifying the offending noise and zeroing its glare directly on the old and ugly tree that partially concealed the now horrified Larson. The beast somehow seemed much taller now. As he regained his composure after involuntarily stepping back two paces, he retrained his sights on the creature's chest and started to squeeze the trigger, just like he'd done so many times before to so many different breeds of game and threat that came against him or fell into his hands. But right before the hammer released, he let his eyes briefly glance up to the creature's face. In that moment, the entire chorus of time and space stopped for Tom Larson. He discerned something

in the face that struck him to the pit of his stomach and heart. It wasn't anger or even fear. it was sorrow. He saw in the face of this monster an uncanny resemblance to an innocent man who yet knows that the executioner approaches, that there is nothing he can do. As two wills raged inside of Larson, the one demanding he keep pulling the trigger for the sake of his own safety and that of the town, and the other sensing a much deeper moral dilemma rooting this whole situation to a problem that was much more human or intelligent than he had thought before. He backed up slowly. He kept his rifle aimed steady at the monster's chest,

with his finger resting on the trigger while he gently paced backwards around the bend and up the game trail he had followed so many times. The monster, for its part, neither stayed put nor attacked Larson, but was eventually heard rushing through the thick foliage away from his hunter. When asked why he didn't shoot the thing, Tom confessed that he didn't exactly know the real reason, But, he speculated, his heart sensed that if he had, he would never have been able to forgive himself for it. That answer, even though it sounds just and morally heroic, did not satisfy the townsfolk. For you see, they and Tom both knew the truth.

Whatever sadness was painted on this beast's face was just that painted. Tom had just let the terror of Portlock, Alaska, escape the hands of a vengeance that was well-earned. Tom had just let the Nantanak go free. Portlock, or Portchatham, Alaska, was not a notable place. On the contrary, it was all but utterly unforgettable to the rest of the world and even the state. The one thing this little town on the tip of the sprawling and geologically diverse Canoe Peninsula had to offer, though, was natural resources. A Royal Navy captain named Nathaniel Portlock was the first westerner to explore the area back in 1786. He noted in his logs just how rich the place was with things that growing,

industrially-industrialized world needed back then, namely timber and coal. But in addition to these things, there were some good fishing in the area, too. He and others quickly realized that a township here had the potential for a lot of flourishing and a lot of profit to whomever may establish it. However, Captain Portlock was, for reasons unknown, hindered from ever returning to this potential gold vein of opportunity. In the land lay dormant for five years until another Englishman named George Vancouver stumbled on it when he mapped out the Alaskan coast. He found good rest in the bay and stayed there for a while, noting the same opportunities that Portlock had observed earlier.

He christened the bay and named it after the ship he captained, Chatton. But still, nothing more than hopes and eventual abandonment for bigger fish came from Vancouver's exploration. Finally, in the early 1900s, American fishing vessels drifted into these cold and unknown waters on the trail of ample schools of halibut and salmon. Not only did they find what they were looking for in the oft-forgotten waters of Chatham Bay, they also found something else,

rest from the more turbulent waves surrounding them, and a point on the peninsula that looked like it was begging to be settled. They figured, trudely, that if they could make a settlement here that included a cannery, they could more easily distribute fish to the western ports. If they could, it would make them a lot of money. By all counts, it seemed, that this went exactly to plan for a while.

Native Allute peoples were hired as workers for the cannery, and the fishermen had nothing but success in the seas outside of the bay. Eventually, two smaller townships formed out of the one, Portlock and Port Chatham. For all intents and purposes, though, these towns are one and are synonymous with each other. Over time, the coal and chromite mines started to develop. Soon after that, the logging industry budded into a viable career for many of the young men in Portlock. By the end of the 1920s, a U.S. post office had opened in the town. Homes were cropping up along the coast, and all engines of commerce were firing at great heat.

The daydream that Captain Portlock had so many years ago was proving to be prophetic. It was all really happening. But little do the miniature titans of coal and fish and logging know what was soon to come for them. For who among them could have expected that in less than three decades, by 1951 to be exact, the entire region of Portlock and Port Chatham would be completely abandoned, a desolate ghost town foreboding doomed to all that her forgotten buildings from land or sea for the rest of man's unhappy toil on the earth. And just how did this happen?

Why exactly was a sprawling town abandoned completely in such a short time? Many reasons have been given, a state route on the other side of Knais that drove settlement away from the other side of her and a dying chromite industry after the First World War are the two most popular. But another reason waits just behind all of them, shrouded by a veil of shadow and malice and mystery. And it all starts with a man named Andrew Kamluck.

In 1931, Andrew Kamluck quit his steady job at the portlock cannery with a few of his closest work buddies in order to try his luck at starting a logging operation with them. The tall pines and old oaks around the peninsula promised riches to all who can endure the hard days required to harvest them. The overbearing humidity of the summers that marked the onslaught of the gnats and mosquitoes mixed with the certainty of brutal winters laced through with near constant snowstorms meant that this work was bound to be utterly unpleasant.

However, the real risk of torment involved in such work, according to the older native locals, was far less predictable. The men were warned time and again of polter, like trials that awaited every man who spent much time in these woods that pinned the little settlement tightly to the bay. Tools would go missing. Food would be ravaged. Heavyer equipment would be damaged and rendered useless. In some cases, these older men warned that they would not all live to see the profits of their venture start to roll in. A shade and dark whisper slipped through the trees, they said, and monsters hid themselves within its mystery. Kamluck and his friends, predictably,

paid little mind to these warnings, which they took for cynical and hyperboized tales from the old-timers, meant to dissuade the zealous youth from going to take what nobody else had the medal to do. Sometimes, though, warnings from the old to the young are neither cynical nor without warrant. Sometimes the legends and the caution they breed in the hearts of men is very much worth hearkening to. As their work began, tension quickly arose within the camp. While some days were wonderfully productive, many of the early weeks of their operation found Kamluck working completely alone. The excuses of his partners were legitimate enough, sick wives and children, neighbors that needed emergency help in a pinch, etc. But soon, the excuses stopped altogether, even though the other men still did not return to their work.

Camluck knew why. He had known why from the very beginning. It was not for sickness or damaged roofing that his friends stopped helping him. It was for fear. Right as their work commenced, strange things started happening to them. They would hear odd noises ringing through the trees like whooping yelps mixed with tolling bells. Tools were most certainly stolen. Food was most certainly ravaged. Equipment was most certainly damaged.

And for a brief time, everyone agreed that it was some gang of childish old timers or maybe a gang of town youths, playing pranks on them. The issue was, this idea grew less and less ten. tenable by the day. I mean, a prank is one thing. But a prank that costs your neighbor a great deal of time and money to repair is something else altogether. That is a crime. Camlok's partners became skittish in the forest as they grew deeper in their conviction that something very wrong was haunting their woods. Thus, the excuses poured in until they didn't. And Camluck was left operating a brand new logging startup completely on his own. One day in late fall as he came to the close of an almost 12-hour shift in the oaks and pines,

Kamluck stood straight to catch his breath, wipe his brow, and noticed the hungry churning in his stomach. It was time to call it quits. The frustration of working alone, in addition to the pressure of needing to provide for his family in the midst of near abject poverty, had been weighing on the man for quite some time. He was tired,

but his fighting spirit was not yet entirely snuffed out, and so he held on tightly to hope. He turned back from gazing out over the bay through a gap in the trees on the steep hillside. He paced the short distance back to that day's workstation to grab his axe and begin the journey home. He never arrived. His wife and newborn son sent for help

to find their mutual love after waiting well into the night. And Andrew Kamluck was found. He was found about 30 yards down the hill and rough path that eventually led back into town. His head told the tale of a horrible death as it lay in the soft dirt split like a dropped watermelon. about 10 feet away they found a 400-pound logger's crane covered in blood. It was as if something had picked up this enormous piece of equipment,

slammed it into Kamlook's unsuspecting head, and then tossed it to the side as if none of it mattered much at all. In that same year, a local prospector was never seen again after riding his mule into the backcountry to hunt for gold in one of the many promising tributaries leading to the bay. While the full truth of his end can only be guess, the maimed and disgusting condition his mule was found in led many to presume it to be the work of whatever had killed Andrew Kamluck. The man's name was Hamish Wilson. To this day, his remains,

or any trace of them whatsoever, had never been found. In the intervening years from 1931 until about 1949, the estimates of how many victims had succumbed to whatever fate cursed the town ranged from five to about a dozen people. In 1948, the bodies of two experienced hunters were found mutilated nearly beyond recognition by a search party who had been looking for the men a couple of days. A few months later, some loggers began following the tracks of what looked like a large and barefoot human that followed some enormous moose prints up a covered slope. After a while, they stumbled on an area in which some epic struggle had clearly taken place between the moose and whatever its predator had been. From then on, the moose tracks stopped, but the supposed assailant's tracks

continued on right up the mountain. Cannery workers refused to return to their work after the winter season until the factory promised to provide a rotating militia of armed guards that could protect them during their long shifts on the line. They especially required this protection at night.

And all of this was due to the perceived, clear and present danger of the monster, the Nantanak, that stalked and haunted the woods around Portlock. As we said before, the entire town and larger region was all but utterly vacated by 1951, and most of the blame of the abandonment was placed on the frequency of these mysterious events,

gruesome deaths, and inexplicable disappearances. Since then, the area has still not come back to life. But what is this beast? What was, or what is, the nontanak? The myth of a large, bipedal, hairy creature that terrorizes tribes and peoples, saturates all of the land in North America. Alaska is no exception to this rule.

While the name given to this preternatural beast varies somewhat, the moniker of Nantanak seems to be the most prevalent. The meaning of the title is debated and foggy, much like all of the details surrounding Sasquatch legends. But it most likely refers to something that is half-man, half-beast, an in-between form of some pseudo-intelligence that's akin to Frankenstein's hellish monster. One legend of how the Nantanak propagates tells of a native elder and hunter from long ago,

boarding a fishing boat with a group of other tribesmen. He awoke from a rough river-based slumber and instructed the men to take him over to the northern bank. Once beached, he helped to push the boat right back into the flowing deep waters and told his companions not to come back for him. He claimed he would be attempting to find and live with the Nantanak. Months later, it was reported that the man was seen in a nearby Riverside village, warning people to keep his wife and children indoors and to avoid coming out at night lest he take them away. He warned that he would soon lose control of himself and grow thick fur that made him appear something other than himself, a shape-shifting and lichanthropic beast

driven by unfettered rage and thirsty for blood. Soon much of the domesticated animals or livestock began to disappear at night. People would hear whistling in the forest and would see bipedal shadows of black and gray gliding effortlessly between trees on the riverbanks as they fished. Hunters would have things thrown at them and would hear guttural roars that echoed from all sides, warning them to turn back. One day, a boy and his girlfriend went down to check their fish traps by the river, when a high-pitched and glass-shattering whistle stabbed their ears like safety pins.

The girl insisted the two leave and return later. A suggestion the boy was happy to oblige. Hours passed, and upon their return, they spotted the Nantanak, slowly pacing the rocky shore near their traps, as if it was looking for them. The monster didn't see the children, but they got a good look at the bloated and gigantic creature covered completely in gray hair that reflected light in its grease. The overall effect was very ghastly.

It sat directly on the fence of a thing that could almost be described and almost understood without ever seeing it, a truly uncanny horror, walking in broad daylight with a posture of sullen despair. In our previous episode on fairies, we posited the idea of the fairy being an elemental type spirit that is, by some act of providence, bound to an area, an element of nature,

like a lady of the lake, a river daughter, an old man willow, and so forth. We concluded that episode by asking the question, what if this conception of the fay could help us explain some of the other preternatural occurrences in the world? What if the Jersey devil is a woodland sprite and rebellion against God? What if the mothman was a spirit of the air, who in his fallen state was sent to torment the growing apostasy in Point Pleasant, West Virginia? What if the Sasquatch, Bigfoot, who has seen

all around the world, is akin to an elemental fairy cursed to roam and terrorize whatever realm they fell in. Of course, one cannot be so sure of themselves when asking such questions. But that shouldn't cause us to shrink back from asking them, right? Right. And so here we endeavor to answer through the lens of story, stories about the strange and unexpected, stories about the uncanny, untidy, and difficult to conceptualize, stories about perhaps the most resilient piece of folklore the world has ever known, the Sasquatch. Is the Sasquatch one of the fairfolk? Yes.

And welcome... And welcome to this episode of Haunted Cosmos. Season 3, episode 3. A pair of traces. That's right. Triads, actually. I was reading this morning in Bovink's Reform Dogmatics, Volume 2. Okay. About how...

As one does. Yes, exactly. About how God creating in his triune nature made the number three very special and how there's triads all over the place. And I think that we've just found another one here. I think we just did. The fact that it's season three episode, that's all. And it's about, it's peak on a cosmos

because we just asked the question. First of all, our question just assumes that Bigfoot is real. Like, we've already established that guy. And he's not just like an animal. Like he's not just an estrall epithicus or a gigantapithecus or your mom epithicus. It's actually, it's not an animal.

We've already been, we've already gotten to the point where we're so deep in Hanna Cosmos that we're like, if we're not normies, of course, Bigfoot exists. Shut up about Epithicus. The question isn't whether Bigfoot is. It's, is he a fairy? Right. The question isn't what is Bigfoot. Yeah. The question also isn't, is Bigfoot an animal?

No. The question is, isn't Bigfoot a fairy? And the, and the answer is, duh. So season four, we're going to be doing an episode where it's like, what category of fairy is Bigfoot? We know he's a fairy. We're going to find evidence for it. No, just to reiterate guys, like, this is a speculative topic. Yeah.

We don't have a Bible verse on this. We're not trying to, like, say that. Having said that, having said that, though. I think that it's a question worth asking. Yeah, it's interesting. Because, you know, we're people. We're supposed to try to order creation in the way that we see fit. That's just what, especially Westerners.

You try to order your observations into systems of understanding. where you're categorizing a genus and a species and a phylum and you're trying to... In asylum and a flow-um. Where does stuff fit? That's trees, actually. Not actually the same thing. That's trees. So close.

So close, King. Yeah, I mean, so welcome back, guys. We are doing a giveaway for this episode. We should just let you know right now that if you love Horned Cosmos and you want it to keep going. You know what's interesting? Well, I was going to say sign up for Patreon. You know what? Because that supports our show.

let's keep saying like half of our sentences and then switching to another thing. People love that. I think people like it. Sign up for Patreon, guys. It supports the show, keeps us doing this. You get access to the dusty tome, a weekly podcast solo that Ben does. That's, I think, 50 times better than that guy, Baron Spanky. Baron Hanky. Yeah, Sharon Hanky, I think. Snoddy Hanky. And that's just for patrons as a thank you. But recently, we've had,

had, it added a feature where people could say like, hey, why did you sign up for this thing? And it was pleasantly surprising that most people picked, I mean, they said, yeah, we like the show, the dusty to, but most people said, we just wanted you guys to just want to support the show. We just wanted you to keep going. That's really encouraging. And it is, because Ben works full time for haunted cosmos. It's, this is not just like a hobby. Right.

For us, this is actually. And we are a bit vindicated in that. Uh-huh, because recently. Oh, yes. So we're recording right now on March, Wednesday, March 20th, 1141 a.m. By the way, I'm very late on this week's Dusty Tom. Everyone bear with me. We get there right.

But we recently were engaged in a sort of Twitter tournament. Yes. We were placed into a bracket. We have no idea how the seating was determined, but frankly, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. But the bracket was to see what is the best Reformed Christian podcast. It's already funny that Hana Cosmos was in the bracket at all. Because we are reformed, obnoxiously reformed.

Yeah, people actually leave mean comments all the time on YouTube. But would I describe this podcast as a quote-unquote reformed podcast? Yes. No. Obviously. You know, different sensibilities. Look, it's like Dr. Sovereignty of God, covenant theology, cryptids, and then you just keep, that kind of thing. But the point is.

It's all involving. We won. We won. We won the whole thing. We won the whole thing. 64. Okay. Not only did we win.

New Christenum Press is the point. publishing company that we work for under Haunted Cosmos. New Christendom Press had three podcasts in the competition. Two of them made the top four. Two of them made the top two. Actually, the finals was between Haunted Cosmos and a show I'm on. The King's Hall. The King's Hall podcast. And Haunted Cosmos came out ahead. But it was just a totalogged in victory. So, hey, guys, thanks for the thousands and thousands of you that voted. It really was. What a fun. Tons of votes were really great for.

We didn't care about it at all. And also in a very real sense, it became our entire personality for about a week. Here's the thing. When we made it past round one, I was like, I care about this and nothing else until it's over. And then we won. And it was amazing. So thank you to everyone that voted. If you didn't vote, you're dead to me. I'm kidding. Yeah. I'm kidding. But related to supporting the show, what you guys have done with Patreon, we are going to be doing a giveaway. If you sign up, the day that this episode drops, then we will be doing a giveaway. We'll pick one person who signs up for Patreon randomly. And we will send you. We will send you an Easton Press leather-bound copy of Grimm's fairy tales. It's so cool. It's really

cool. I'm looking at it right now on the computer. We're basically, like, this is an antique collectible book. These sell for hundreds of dollars. It's in mint condition. And this is a really good one. And it's no longer in print. You can't find this new anywhere else, except if you get lucky on eBay. And in the quick search that we did before we started recording, we did get lucky and found it. Yeah. So we'll get one of us. And so we're really excited. away. And then with every one of these, we also do a giveaway amongst our existing patrons, too. So everybody has to figure that out. But yeah, support the show, guys, means a lot to us. And also, you know, I know not everybody loves sponsors and ads and things like that, but support our sponsors.

Yeah. It not only does it help the show, but it also, we pick Christian businesses and we really believe in the families. Indigo sundries. We always joke about the soap. And this is yet another one, guys. Like, is it harder for the fairies to find you in the woods if you've used, all natural seed oil-free indigo sundry soap? The answer is yes. The answer is obviously yes. And here's the reason why. Because seed oils and the use thereof in things on your body and food is inherently evil. Let's just be honest.

I'm not saying that you're sitting by doing it. That's not what I'm saying. But you're like you're being harmed, you know? Yeah, it's hurting you guys. The whole industry is just bad. Yeah. Therefore, those fairies, those elementals that have fallen, which exist, it's easier for them to find you. And look, because of your support of Indigo Sundries, which is a family business, they are about to be able to go full time.

Yeah, which is insane. It's so amazing. Because of your guys' support. So go check it out. We got links in the descriptions. There's a discount code in the description as well. I use some of their orange sorbet soap this morning. And let me tell you, there was no better way to start my day than to wake up, go out into the backyard because we had a chicken that died and then got eviscerated by a neighbor's dog that I had to bury.

and then go inside and use some orange sorbet soap. I basically test all their new products, so I'm testing a tallow soap that they're developing right now. Oh, really? And let me just say, unscented tallow, I was rubbing a dad cow on myself, and it felt so right. It feels so good.

I also... I want to be the opposite of a vegan. I have been testing there, right. I want the biggest carbon footprint. Whatever the opposite of a vegan is. That's what I'm trying to be. I've also been testing out their beard wax. Oh, nice.

Yeah, it's great. And it's really, I do like it. I like it a lot. Anyway. This has gone on long enough. But just to reiterate our connection here, last episode, one of the most important episodes we've done, because it's where we start to get out on the end of the branch and we're looking at, okay, let's do that, looking at the world, different experiences.

And instead of just saying everybody's lying, everybody's making it up, saying, well, some of them definitely aren't lying or making it up. What could explain these? And we introduced looking through different theories of the Fay and the gin and all these different things from from its made up to demons to what is this. Yep. And we kind of posited, not novel. I mean, it's not a brand new idea.

People have thought this before. Walk us through just as a recap, what was our fairy tie-in? And then we're going to get into some more stories here that I think help maybe think is Bigfoot part of this category. Exactly. Or like the Bigfoot adjacent. Yeah. We'll get there. Yeah, because I do have something to say on that.

But the whole conclusion from the fairies. episode was basically, we don't want to ignore all of these great Christian thinkers from the past that have seen this category and thought, you know, I don't know if it's as simple as they're all bad or, you know, they're all demonic, so to speak. It seems to be that they, as C.S. Lewis says, introduce a little bit of untidiness into a world that's at risk of being too predictable and too observable. And so we're thinking, okay, you know, he could be a total quack for saying that, he could be wrong. But just what if he's not? What if there's something here? And one of the categories that I think you can't actually glean from scripture is a spiritual

entity that's over a natural area or process. I'm thinking of things like the river god of Exodus, the river god of the Nile that God judges when he sends the plagues on Egypt. You're thinking of mountain gods, these false gods. I'm using the term gods loosely here, but they're false gods. And yet they seem to be bound to a region. So the idea is, what if that's an elemental type spirit? They're associated with earth or water or forest or fire or air, like an avatar, the last airbender. Haven't seen it? Don't care.

The four nations live together in harmony. Haven't seen it. Don't care. Everything changed. Is it anime? It is anime. Don't care. Here's the thing.

Sorry, guys. It is genuinely great. Okay. Like, it's really, really good. If you pop the popcorn, invite me over. Dude, I might watch it. All day. It's kind of like Buddhists.

Okay, never mind. I'm out. No, but it's not obnoxious about it. It's just because it's animated. It's just a little Buddhist. It's like how Brandon Sanderson novels are literally just space Mormonism. Just a little Mormonism, but in a different way. Brandon Sanderson, overrated. Okay, moving on.

Yeah. So anyway, so we thought, okay, well, what if this fairy type character entity is an elemental, some of whom fell in the angelic rebellion, and others didn't. And the ones that fell, maybe they're the ones that have been more active and making themselves

more known and visible. And so you get, you know, cults around oak trees and Norse mythology, Thor's oak. You get the worship of different rivers and things like that. And mountains, of course,

are always these... The sun. Yeah, the sun. Stars. Mountains are always these high places. That's another one. So it's a common belief in church history,

especially in the scholastic era, that the sun, and other stars are guided by a sort of spiritual intelligence. Yeah, angelic, what we would think of today as like angelic means. An angelic intelligence. Not that the planet is an angel, but that it's guided and governed. In its physical substance. Exactly, but that it's governed by an angel.

And even in passages of scripture like Amos, that's then reiterated by Stephen in his sermon in Acts 7, it talks about how the Israelites and their rebellion worshipped Moloch, and Moloch's star, Revin. Yeah. So there seems to be a kind of. connection between these false gods on earth and false gods in the heavens that they have their own names. It's a particular star. It's not just any star. Anyway, so we're trying to condense all of that

into one sort of a unified field theory of fairies. Yeah. This is maybe they're elemental. Some of them fell. Some of them didn't. And if so, this is the punchline. Yeah, go ahead. I don't want to interrupt. A big if, admittedly. A big if, if all of that is even halfway true, could we then try to start to explain the Bigfoot phenomenon in more detail and say, what if that is an example? Yeah. Of a fairy. So, and if this idea sounds wild to you, just— I understand.

We get it. But you got to think, like, this is—it's the idea itself that God—God doesn't directly rule over all things via his immediate power. God—he rules and he reigns by creating and appointing rulers in all sorts of different spheres, the heavens, the earth, even kingdom. are in the Old Testament, the book of Daniel, you see angelic powers behind kingdoms and nations and kings. And like you said, stars are associated with worship. And so we're not positing an insane idea here that God appointed that there would be powers that are subservient to him that he rules over,

some of whom rebelled, some who didn't, who governed some natural processes. And then, I mean, you get to like the storm on the sea of Galilee type of, situation where there's a great storm and Jesus is sleeping and everybody's freaking out and Jesus wakes up and he calms the sea and he calms the storm with a word. And the idea could also be that, well, here are these fishermen who are very, very familiar with storms on the Sea of Galilee. Which are common. They're very common. They would have been in them all the time. All the time. I mean, it'd be like a pilot getting some turbulence. An airline pilot. So when the airline pilot is freaking out about the turbulence, that's when you know it's a crazy thing that's happening.

And in this storm, that's what's happening to the disciples. So the question is, maybe this isn't just a natural process, but maybe there's actually a spiritual power that is at work in the wind and the waves in the storm that's actually attempting to destroy the son of God. Right. Which you might think, where do you get this idea? Well, look at Job. Yes. In the book of Job, one of the judgments where we know that there's this, there's the Satan in the, he's going before God and he's saying, can I sift your servant Job?

And God actually, he's on a leash. God allows him to do certain things. What is one of the things he does? He sends the wind. He sends the winds. To topple the house of his eldest son to kill all of his children. And so how did the angelic being,

Satan, do that? It was through a physical weather phenomenon. And so, again, these are not crazy, when you see that we're not actually saying necessarily that every single physical movement in all of creation or that everything that happens in a forest is because, you know, every little tree bow that moves like the angels going and shaking. But we're saying that it's actually biblically reasonable to say that in some cases in some places, for God's own appointed ends, he governs through the means of spiritual powers and that they are real,

mysterious, not fully explained, because the Bible never claims to give us an exhaustive look into this realm. So I do think it's at least a very interesting question to ask when you get to phenomenon that is associated with places in nature and physical processes that are also supernatural, preternatural, to ask the question, what if we're seeing that? Yes. And what if we're seeing that? What if it's not impossible for whatever entity is doing that to take on some kind of visible form?

Because we know angels do that. We know angels do that. That is the least amount of leaping that you even have to do it. It's just true. They do that. So I think that it's really easy to say, okay, clearly this is possible. And if possible, let's just suspend the disbelief for a moment and try to connect dots and see how neatly they fit. One thing I like about this theory as well is that, and we mentioned,

this in our Bigfoot episodes last season, especially the second episode, which you should go back and listen to both those episodes if you want more groundwork on the question of Bigfoot as an animal and then Bigfoot as something more than an animal. Because a lot of the stories involve things that are hyper-stranged,

preternatural, supernatural, like cloaking, disappearing, messing with technology, telepathy. Telepathy. Associated with alien-type, UFO. UAP, UFO, Orbs.

That's a big one. And it's funny when you watch, like, a Bigfoot show with evolutionists and anthropologists and whatnot, and they're, like, trying to explain how a Bigfoot might have evolved cloaking abilities through, like, oh, that we've developed this material that bends the light in a certain way. And I'm like, look, it's utterly ridiculous.

Because they're not talking about, like, a chameleon even, which by itself disproves evolution. Just one chameleon is enough to do it. But you put a single chameleon in a room and I just say, I rest my case. Or an octopus or something. They're actually talking about things even beyond that. Like what if they've developed the ability to manipulate light in cloaking?

And I just go, you're describing something that is no longer a natural being. It's the same thing as when they refer to aliens as the hyperdimensional. You're like, so they're demons. I'm like, look, if evolution is true on Earth, it's true everywhere else too. And so what you're saying is they're actually not a, what we would say, a living thing. There's something else. Anyway, so that also is just, you're grasping at straws. I actually think that this theory keeps the mystique of the whole category, of the whole angelic category, which is filled with mystique and intrigue, while also giving us some sense of closure if it's true.

You know, and that's the thing is it's all a big if. We're not, we're not pretending to be anything more than positing an idea. And not even a theory, a hypothesis. It's a hypothesis. Someone could make, someone could bring data. Theology is a science whose data is the text. So if you brought, if you brought some data from scripture that disconfirmed or made this impossible, then I would say, oh, okay. Oh, great.

But it's an exercise in medieval thinking, and I mean that in a good way, where, what they're trying to do is develop a conceptual framework that is true through which they can view the entire cosmos that God made. Yeah. Where they're saying, wow, look at the harmony. Look at the poetry. Look at how beautiful everything is. And the light that everything is reflecting, all from the creator in a way that gives people

a reason to be compelled by the world that God made. It's not a drab and boring place. And I don't say that to mean that you always have to be pushing the envelope to see like, well, what else is there? But what I do mean is that Proverbs, what is it? Proverbs 29, verse 2? Which one? Is the glory of God to conceal a thing?

Proverbs 25. Proverbs 25, too. Oh, my God. It is verse 2 of whatever chapter. This is embarrassing, guys. But we're just saying that it is the glory of God to conceal a thing. And we are explicitly told that we'll never comprehend everything. And so we should always be looking to see, well, what progress can be?

be made here, even if it seems like an inconsequential category. But the other thing, if you go back and listen to those Bigfoot episodes from season one, or I'm sorry, season two. Yeah, season two. One of the things that you will hear is Brian Sovey say, is Bigfoot an angel? Bigfoot angel confirmed. And I would like to also say that we were recently talking and you said, wait a minute, if all of these Bigfoot encounters where people are like horribly scared and or even like maimed. Uh, if, if all of them are pagans. You know, what if? If you're like us, the changing seasons wreak havoc on your skin, leaving you in constant search of a healthy product that actually works to keep your skin both healthy and comfortable. Well, they are really onto something over at gray toad tallow.

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That's Haunted Cosmos 10, all caps, one word, to support your brothers and sisters in Christ. Check out the show notes for more details and links and to connect with them on social media. What if Bigfoot is actually? It's an angel of judgment. Yeah, it's an angel of judgment. Oh, boy. One individual pagan who's like, I'm just trying to fish. So you're saying God's putting a hit out.

Okay. Like now we're... I'm kidding. We're a little bit like... I'm gonna say we're a little bit out. Yeah, yeah. I'm kidding. I just couldn't let you get away

with talking about that the other day. And then not bring it up. I was like, wait a second. No, because we joked where people... I said people now are going to go on the internet and say, Brian says big feet are angels. Yeah. Clear.

You know. We don't think that. No, except that, you know. They could be fallen angels. But I don't think they... Well, why don't we... if you don't have anything else, now that we've kind of set this up,

let's start to tell some stories and connect some of the dots here in the... Well, what's the data? What kind of experiences that people had that might make you think some of these conclusions about Bigfoot, fairies, the fair folk, and their overlap?

I love it. I will start with telling us the story of the Honey Island Swamp Monster. What a name. Just from that name alone, I'm ready. It's confirmed. I'm ready to go.

In the middle of Mississippi, A river comes to life from the constant flowing together of two smaller creeks that come from other parts of the state. The genesis of those creeks do not come into these tales, but the result of their confluence at the end of their trains has, against all odds, wound its way into the resilient local lore of the southern states. This is the story of just how that occurred. Once these two creeks, the Naniwaya and the Tala Haga, respectively, come together, they take on a new name, as if they were suddenly, now a whole new entity, the Pearl River. As the Pearl desperately flows west and south, looking for some port of entry into the Gulf of Mexico, it eventually acts as a natural state line between the last stretch of Mississippi and the

toe of Louisiana's boot. Somewhere deep within this final length, it allows a sizable tributary to split off from itself and head west around a lowland marsh and floodplain in Louisiana. Over time, that marsh has turned from mild to extreme in both its wetness and ecological diversity. As such, it's long been forgotten as a marsh and has only ever been known as a swamp in the Americas, the Honey Island Swamp. Named after the plethora of honeybees that call the swamp home, Honey Island covers 70,000 acres of highly protected swamp land, which boasts of being some of the very best in the entire country. In addition to cultivating massive quantities of just as many species of flora,

the swamp is also home to alligators, snakes, foxes, black bears, bobcats, possums, raccoons, minks, pelicans, owls, eagles, hawks, heron, gar, bass, and the alien-looking paddlefish. But according to some, this is not an exhaustive list of all the major players in this humid and treacherous ecosystem. Some say that the most notable creature of all is one that can't be found on any official registry for the swamp. In the summer of 1963, friends Harlan Ford and Billy Mills were flying with their small twin-engine airplane over Honey Island swamp, in the hopes of finding some natural or otherwise already existing place that would make sense as a hunting camp for the pair. Hunting the swamp was an older man's game back then, with alligators, bears and even deer flooding the area for almost the whole year.

After a while, one of the men slapped the other on the shoulder to get his attention and pointed down out of his window. Just below them laid what appeared to be the ruins of some old settlement. A little shack remained visible due to its being on a prominent dry section of the swamp that had evidently been cleared of trees long ago. Excited at this opportunity, the men marked the general spot on the map, flew back to the airport to land, immediately packed their gear up, and started hiking through the dense backland to try and find what they'd hoped would be their new hunting camp, one far away from the popular and heavily trafficked fringes of the swamp.

Hours passed, and both men knew they still had a long way to go. Despite everything looking so approachable on the flat surface of the paper map, this camp was proving quite difficult to get to in reality. They carefully waded through some of the boggiest hiking either of them had ever done, taking extra caution to make sure their rifles didn't slip from their shoulders and into the black water. Both of the men's shirts were soaked right through to the skin with sweat, and their patience started to wear thin.

At that moment, the men broke out of an especially dense patch of undergrowth and breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into a relatively large clearing. Harlan scanned the tree line ahead of them and quickly, Jolted to standing stone still while he held his breath. Billy noted the change in his friend and looked at him. His eyes were wide with shock and some mixture of fear and excitement. Billy followed Harlan's eyes and saw for himself an enormous and hairy creature of the swamp, resting on all fours a couple dozen yards away from them, staring silently into the water.

Unable to stop himself, Billy let out an impulsive. What is that thing? The swamp thing jerked its head over to study. the intruders and slowly rose to standing on its own two legs. It met their gaze with a menacing hatred, and according to Harlan the slightest hint of annoyance. After a few seconds, the monster sprinted off into the nearby thicket. Harlan and Billy still caught up in the moment, took their rifles in hand, and ran through the water and muddy marsh to the opposite wood in the hopes of getting another look at this anomalous and frightening thing. Perhaps, luckily

for them, they didn't get any such second chance. at least not that time. Over a decade later, after Harlan and Billy's tall tale of meeting a real swamp monster had been supremely ridiculed by their families and friends, the two friends, without really giving any thought to the monster they had very nearly forgotten about at that point, decided to organize a fishing trip for them and their friends from work at air traffic control. The idea was basic enough.

Both Harlan and Billy had decent boats of their own. They could just do some river fishing for a few days with easy transport, while camping on any good piece of shore they could find to fit them all. For the first couple of days, everything went exactly as planned. Billy's larger boat held them in a group of about six guys while Harland hauled himself and two other work friends around. The whole group stayed together and was having a great time catching some prizes in the Pearl River. But just as the sun sank down under the earth on one of those days,

Billy's boat motor overheated because of a broken water cooling pump and had to be anchored far down river from camp. This was certainly inconvenient, but it wasn't detrimental to the trip, really, and so Harlan started ferrying two men at a time back up river to the campsite. Only, whether by dark design or macabre coincidence, the timing of Billy's motor overheating

proved to spell disaster for the trip. Harlan dropped off the first two men and charged them to start a fire, as he raced back down the river, guiding himself via spotlight in the ever-darkening night. He caught a brief glimpse of the same monster from so many years ago. All in a single flash.

Memories of excitement mixed with intense fear flashed through his mind and sent chills down his back as he shed light on the terrible swamp monster looking down on him from a bluff overhead into the west. Harlan felt his pulse rage as he slowed down his drift to pick up more men. He told them the situation. In one of his friends, a man named Jim Hartsog, yelled over the river at him to give him a rifle, he could run up the bluff and hunt the creature down.

Harlan, not thinking Jim would actually go through with it, told him to take his gun if he wanted, but he was going to keep ferrying men in the meantime. With that, Jim stole away into the dark shoreline and Harlan started back upriver with another group. Just as the men unloaded, two shots rang out through the Louisiana night, punching with untold force through the white noise of rushing water. For a moment, everything stopped.

The situation, which of a moment, Up to then had only been frightening for Harlan and had remained pretty humorous for the other men, became grave for them all. Harlan shared a knowing look with Billy. They had both seen that thing so many years ago. They had seen its size, speed, and evident strength. They worried for their friend. The boat turned around and raced down river once more, this time with more urgency and much less caution. As Harlan approached the same bluff as before, he started to make out a small flashlight

waving around in the water a few yards offshore and just beneath the bluff that had housed the monster's threatening form. Their friend Jim had shot off rounds in a panic before sprinting to the bluff and jumping off of it into the water below, heedless of rocks that were current. When they came upon him in the boat, the man who had been so brazen and brave moments before was trembling with fear and cold and wore a wide-eyed thousand-yard stare on his face. after hours of warming himself by the fire and continuing in this trance, Jim finally opened up about what had really happened. He recounted how, after running up the hillside, he saw the dark shadow of the bipedal creature standing ahead of him, silhouetted by the moonlight. Without any thought,

he shot at the beast and watched it jump into the undergrowth. Jim was certain he had hit the creature and so charged right after it into the brush. After a few dozen yards of sprinting, Jim really realized he could no longer hear the creature anymore. He stopped and stalked quietly further. Suddenly, some short distance ahead, he saw the yellow shine of two massive eyes staring at him. They belonged to something tall, alien, and horrifying. He shot at the monster again before immediately turning tail and running to jump off the bluff. Though he grew numb to it as time passed, Jim's fear never really left. Needless to say, none of the men got much sleep that night. The Honey Island Monster was still out there. Now, Ben, the thing about the Honey Island monster.

The Honey Island Swamp monster. Yeah, the Honey Island Swamp. Excuse me. Forgive me. Please get it right. There's a couple things about this story that I think are worth pointing out. And I'm sure you've got some. Let's give you one. It strikes me that there are accounts of these kinds of these kinds of, kind of creatures where people actually do shoot them. Mm-hmm. And people who are using, like, a high-powered hunting rifle from 50 yards, which is, like, point blank for a hunting rifle. People who hunt and are familiar with this and who say, I know, I should have hit it.

And there's no effect. Yeah. No, a lot of times there's no, you can't find any evidence they hit it. They'll even, like, hear the thud. Yeah. I've heard stories of people hearing. Well, the UAP episode, remember, the guy was shooting at him. Yeah.

I forgot about that. take it. He was just blast. Anyway, I started a blast. No, anyway. You know. And it reminds me of the Skinwalker Ranch wolf, the immortal wolf that they just kept shooting. Yes.

And it was like blasting furrow. Like, what a story. That's crazy. Maybe that wolf was a fairy. I'm circling back and I'm going, we need to redo Skinwalker Ranch with our new fairy theory. The whole thing is, fairies. Welcome to haunted fairy cosmos. Well, welcome.

The world is not just stuff. it's made of fairies. But it did remind me of some of that, again, to this point of like, this is a preternatural or there's something supernatural to it in these stories, even in the you can't poke a hole in it and kill it. Right. Yeah, one could say, when we say preter natural, it straddles the line between visible and invisible.

It's a mixture of the two realms in more of a way than man is. Man is, too, because we have bodies, but we also have souls. were embodied souls. But this is more on the spectrum of invisible in that regard. Not necessarily immortal, although one could make the argument, but invisible. One of the things that I wanted to bring up, and actually one of the later stories will see, we'll touch on that shooting thing again. But throughout all of these Sasquatch legends in the whole world, there's some key

common denominators. And the way that they appear to people, obviously big, hairy, strong, bipedal. Those are like some of the... But even, you know, they have eyes that seem to glow sometimes. Yellow. Red, yellow, green, blue. They smell very bad.

Yeah. Their hair is very greasy. It's not just like matted. It's like wet all the time. Yeah. That seems to be relatively common. But then you also have these... They probably have an oil gland like an otter.

Right. Or a duck. Or a platypus. They have like... The world is not just stuff. Let's not even get started on platypus exists. Plata pie? Plata pie.

Plata pie exists. But even given those common, those shared traits, there's some key differentiators too. Between, you know, like they have different color eyes. Maybe some of them aren't as big. But they are still completely, like massive

in the sense of being heavy. and very strong, but they may not be, you know, 10 feet tall. Maybe they're seven or even five or six feet tall. We'll see stories like that as well. I almost think that that helps the case because those types of diversity like that, yeah, it could be genetic. I fully admit that, but we're starting from the presupposition that this isn't an animal merely. And so I actually think that you can have different environmental factors that affect their embodied. form. So when you're in a swamp, like the Honey Island Swamp Monster, from some of the other subtext of this book that I wrote about, or that I read about it, didn't write the book,

it appeared more swampy. Like the hair was longer. You know, it wasn't as short. The Skunk Cape. Yeah, the Skunkake is a perfect example of that. Even the Yeti. Like, some of the hair is white, you know. And so I actually think that that kind of lends some kind of credulity to the whole thing. Like bionicles. Do you ever play with bionicles? No. Did you never play with bionicles?

Dude, I did not play with bionicles. They were sick. I, so they had like four elements, I think. Earth, fire, uh, ice and forest was the four. Ice was an element? Like the snow one.

Dude, it was, he was the coolest one. Well, ice, he couldn't like, includes water. He couldn't like have been water and then done all of it. Yeah. I mean, when I was a kid, they just had those four. I don't know if maybe they've opened their minds a little bit. Yeah, yeah. But their traits, their skills, their weapons, and their modes, and their modes of transportation, all reflected the element that they were a part of.

It's like Tolkien's Pantheon. Or it's like in Lewis when he's talking about the Willow Dryad is different from the beach is different from the oak. But they're both dryads. Yeah, they represent. Which when I cite that and in the footmen. note here, that is actually an actual scientific. And it's literally in Narnia. It's literally a Narnia. This is what it's like.

Ergo, like such as the Iraq. It's true in the world. It's true here, too. Well, that got, there, there we go. There's our Tolkien and Lewis references for this episode. Those were the only ones that we had. Actually, so far, it's kind of an L. But you know what? Speaking of Yeti.

Okay. Could you tell us a Yeti story? I do want to tell you a Yeti story. Why don't you throw down some Yeti stories on this episode? I think I'm going to throw a Yeti story down for you, Ben. Okay, great. In 1959, the eccentric oil tycoon and outdoor adventurer, Tom Slick, took a team of like-minded explorers on an expedition to the highlands of Nepal.

While the team's reasons for being excited about the trip were myriad, exploring the Himalya, trekking treacherous mountain passes, meeting exotic peoples and even more exotic cultures, etc. The actual purpose of the trip was very limited in its scope. You see, something was really limited. rumored to be kept in one particular and very small Nepalese village. Tom had actually seen this enigmatic item a couple of times before, and even photographed it,

but people in the West still did not believe the pictures he had taken. Thus, Slick had returned to the place whose thin and cold air was wet with intrigue and mystique in order to get some solid proof that nobody back home could deny. He wanted to take the thing back with him. On one of the final days of their trip, After many visits to the local monastery that safeguarded the sacred item, Slick sent one of his most trusted companions, a man named Byrne, to go and negotiate the borrowing of the hand for academic study,

with the promise that it would be promptly returned to the monks who kept it. Byrne even offered great wealth to the monastery in return for their trust in him. But despite his greatest efforts and offering up of promises he had no way of keeping, Byrne finally accepted the fact that the answer was no. Byrne, taking after his oil baron of a friend in Slick, was not ready to accept Noah's an answer, and so, under cover of darkness, and when the monks of the temple were deep in time of meditation, he snuck back into the inner room that held the item in question, unwrapped it from its very old and soft linen cover, and took some pieces of it with him.

The macabre detail that has been intentionally left out until now is that the pieces he took were pieces of bone. What's more, because of the nature of the thing, Burns' best bet was to replace the bone fragments he took away with some pieces of human bone that bore a striking resemblance. Peter Byrne had just succeeded in stealing a portion of what is known as the Pengboche hand, the supposed mummified hand of a real Yeti. According to legend, there was a teacher very long ago who dwelt to the same monastery that Byrne would steal from in the modern era. His name was Songwa Dorje. In antiquity, perhaps while Alexander the Great crossed the Hellespont

with his Macedonian fleet many miles to the west, Dorjeet made a pilgrimage to a high place in the cold Himalayas. He eventually reached a cliff that had been whipped by brutal wind and icy snow for as long as it had been. And where this cliff met the sheer wall of granite that was the mountain. There was a deep cave. D'Orget entered the cave, sat on its frozen floor, and began to meditate. The meditation of D'Orges is said to have endured for many moons, but this feat would not prove to be the real reason this revered teacher was so praised and remembered. That would come by the way of a companion he had during his sojourn on the mountain. Ferd has said that some days into his meditation, D'erj was startled to hear some other living creature enter his cave. Before he turned to gaze upon his intruder, he could tell

that it was a thing of immense size and peculiarity. D'urge was right. He had heard of the Yeti before, but he had never actually seen one himself. Now, though, he looked with trepidation and undeniable curiosity on this beastly monster he had heard so much about. To D' D' D'Orget's utter shock and amazement, he soon learned that he had no reason whatsoever to fear. The Yeti slowly paced up to the seated monk, and with a sort of exhausted resignation, sat down in front of him and gazed at him

as if the monk himself was a vessel of light hallowed by the gods. For the remainder of his meditation, this Yeti would come to see and pay homage to him regularly, bringing him food, drink, and other offerings to show his dedication to the Buddhist teacher. What's more, before the monk was ready to descend the mountain again, the Yeti is said to have converted to Buddhism, pledging his allegiance somehow to the teacher who had shown him the ways of ascension. The legend concludes with the tale that one day, many years after his legendary meditation,

Dorshé abruptly left his monastery once again and made that familiar trek high into the Orient clouds. He returned not long after, bearing in his hands the forearm and hand of the Yeti he had known all those years ago. The Yeti, in his dying wish, had given a piece of himself to his teacher in order to vindicate him and seal his status as worthy of veneration for all time to come. And thus, the Pengboche hand came to rest in the high country of Nepal forever. But is the Yeti really, well, real? According to many who know the Hamalia as well, the answer is a clear yes. One of the most celebrated legends of high alpinism and mountaineering is a no-nonsense Austrian

man named Reinhold Messner. Born in September of 1944, Messner quickly rose through the ranks of Austrian climbers, winning glory for himself in boyhood and young adulthood by pushing the limits of light alpinism and daring far beyond what his contemporaries thought possible or even responsible. For Messner, the mountains just made sense. The dangerous peaks, peaks that seemed so smooth from far away, beckoned him to come and study them closer. The heady and thin air exhilarated him to the core, and kept him yearning for more for another trip out and up and into the untouchable void of sky. As he grew, his aspirations and ambitions and utter passion for adventure did with him. He became the first man to summit Mount Everest without the help of supplementary oxygen,

at least that we know of. He also made the first ever a completely solo ascent of the world's highest mountain. He climbed to all 14 8,000 meter peaks that exist in the world, also without any supplemental oxygen. He was the first across Antarctica in Greenland with neither snowmobile nor dog sled. One could not accuse Messner of talking a big game without also being quick to back everything up. But one strange piece of the man remains a mystery to many climbers even still, for it seems that the master of the mountains himself believes in the Yeti. What's more, he claims he is forced to believe in the strange beast, having encountered it a few times himself. He had, of course, heard much of the elusive creature, having spent a lot of his

life in the Nepalese mountains. But it wasn't until an expedition in 1986 that he saw the monster for himself for the first time. On a cold night during a solo trek through the craggy and snowy foothills of his next Tamalian peak, Messner suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and became paralyzed with fear. Not 30 feet away stood the outline of a Yeti, at least seven feet tall of giving a conservative guess, staring back at him in the night with eyes that flashed yellow and green in dark hues of blood-red, from the stars and moon reflecting off of them. Messner was astounded at the disgusting smell of the creature before being kicked into action by it suddenly making a piercing and loud whistling sound towards him. Messner didn't wait to see what it would do next. He turned and

sprinted away as fast as he could. He ran for many miles until he finally entered a village and found safety for the night. For the next decade of his life, while he steadily ticked peaks off of his list with prodigal frequency and courage, Messner tried to find out as much about the Yeti as he could. If he is to be believed, his search paid off near the end of that season when he encountered it once again on a snowy evening high on a mountain ridge. He said he kept his calm and was even able to take some pictures of the creature, ones that he felt would turn out well enough to prove his story.

Only he later discovered that the film was corrupted. Messner learned that the tales of Yetis started in the region around the year 326 BC, when Persia was fighting to maintain its vice grip on Asia amid the rising tide of Macedon. Elders in Nepal told him that, no matter how hard one looks, he can never find a Yeti on purpose. Rather, he will either stumble upon one at night and usually alone, or he will never see one at all. At the end of the day, Messner theorizes that the monster he saw, the one standing in front of him like unto a man, the monster that so many dread and whisper of, is nothing more than a species of. of brown bear yet to be discovered in the homalia. But could it really be this simple? In 1974,

a young woman who was the daughter of a yak farmer in Nepal stood on a small pinnacle of rock that sloped down a hillside and observed her father's herd grazing in the field over her family's home. The day's sky was gray with clouds and a constant drizzle of rain that served to sharpen and highlight every color of blue and black and green lichen that grew on the rock at her feet. The Hill stretched out a rich green before her, peppered here and there by the brown specks of yak fur. As she looked, she heard the echo of a loud whistle behind her, thinking it was her brother come to relieve her of her duties for the day. She whistled in return while she turned around to face her kin. What met her eyes instead was a monster of ravenous evil that

sprinted towards her with a hateful stare. A Yeti was bearing down on her with all of its aggression. It was clearly hungry. The girl, whose name was Lapka Doma noted how broad the running monster was, claiming that it was as broad as the yaks she shepherded. Its stinky and matted hair covered its whole body, and the wrinkled face struck her in an instantaneous thought as somewhat resembling an old man's. By the time she finished the thought, though, her nightmare was beginning in earnest. The monster grabbed her hair and swung her around by it. Her feet could hardly keep up with the force and speed of the thing's arm. Her hair was almost completely ripped out. The monster only managed to take a few of her hairs with him as his fingers

slipped and Lapkadoma went tumbling down the hill, landing with a crash in a small creek of snowmelt beneath her stage of rock. She was hurt, but not grievously. However, in a moment of alarming lucidity, she decided to engage in playing dead in the hopes that the Yeti attacker would lose interest in the lack of sport. It seemed to work, but the cost was high. She lay there still for what felt like hours, while the desperate screams of pain from her yaks painted the valley with horror. Finally, the yaks went quiet, and Lapkodoma slowly rose up to walk back where she had been. She staggered up to the rock and discovered the mangled, bloody, broken carcasses of her family's livelihood strewn all over the hillside. The rich green was struck through by a dark and nearly black

blood that poured out of the yaks like rivers from the glacier. Necks were snapped. Ribs were broken open to expose holes in the animal's sides from the mighty punch of the Yeti's fist. Entrails and stomachs and livers and hearts garnished the grass like macabre flowers from a nightmare. Only two yaks survived the slaughter, and even they were both injured. Five days later, a police inspector named Chachra hiked up to the small cottage in the highland from the larger bazaar of Namchi. He interviewed the young woman who is still sore before going to see the the corpses that still lay untouched for the most part above the little house. The high air helped preserve them. He saw for himself the great carnage, heads turned all around and hanging by threads of skin,

ribs busting out like spikes from a dirt bound. It was all there. Why had the monster not feasted on the spoils? Why create utter mayhem only to immediately leave it and never return? Here's my question. Why? Yeah, that's the thing. Why? So the person that was writing this article that I wrote, they told, you wrote, you said that twice. The person who wrote, I was reading the silver one night that I wrote. Did I say the person who was reading this article I wrote? Yes. Okay. I think. I am dyslexic. Well, we haven't had tacos yet. Dude, we're hungry. We are. We are. Oh my goodness. It's past noon and we haven't had tacos. Okay, well, the person who was writing the article that I read. There you go. Yeah. The layout was pretty interesting because he went through the whole story and then all of the naysayers. Right, yeah.

They were like, there's no way this is true. Absolutely no way. But then he ended it by saying, I actually went to visit Lapkadoma. She's still alive. And so he went and talked to her and he was like, I mean, she seems believable enough. You know, she's just this gentle old woman. But then he said, I talked to the police inspector. Oh, wow.

Chatra, the guy. He's also still alive. Yeah. And he said in the article, this guy swears up and down. Yeah. That, you know, he can't speak to, did she actually get attacked? He was there. But what he says was, she was injured. She was definitely hurt. And she seemed to remember everything really clearly.

But all of the yaks were exactly as she said they were. Wow. And that's a hard animal to kill like that. Yeah, exactly. Because those things are huge. I could barely punch a yak to death. I'm saying like, if I, I, I'd probably take me a whole two punches. Probably one to two.

And that's like the strength of ten men. But not like a jab. Like I'm a full, a full, like Connor McGregor. No, that is wild. Yeah. And the crazy thing, too, is that so there are, you know, predators up there. Like, there are bears. But they're usually not that high, A.

Yeah. And then the other thing is that they would have come to enjoy the feast, basically, that was just set before them. but nothing did, nothing came to scavenge. And as far as Lopka Dama knows, the Yeti never came back. So the question is, is there something that's just like this creature just wants to harm? Like that's one whole theme that you can explore. They just want to ruin your life and want to harm you.

But then is there something that gets kind of given to the yak, so to speak, that makes it repulsive to everything else? like not even a bird of prey is going to come and enjoy those spoils, let alone like a wolf. I don't know if they have wolves there or a bear. Like what makes it so that nothing touched it? Yeah, like nothing at all touched it. That happens in some of the Skinwalker Ranch type of stories. I was about to say Skinwalker Ranch.

Yeah. What was the one that was like? It's cattle mutilation. Right. So there was the cattle mutilation, but then they found the cattle and it had been a while. And nothing touched it for a year. And nothing had touched it. Yeah.

It was a full year. It was all documented. It was a year that nothing touched it. They left it out there all year. Man, why did they do that? They were just interested to see what happened. They moved one, in one case, I know they moved the cattle. Yeah, but then there was even a more recent one with another investigator.

I'm trying to remember his name. He's also crosses over into UAP stuff a lot. Was it Dr. Travis Taylor? It wasn't Dr. Traves-Taylor. It wasn't him or Thomas Winterton. Okay. It wasn't Thomas Winterton and I? No.

Can I just like draw a couple things together here and make? Make like, I'm about to get a little unhinged. Dude, hey, do it. Let me explain some stuff. Okay, we're going to talk about a phenomenon known as missing 411. Yes. Okay, at some point, I think this season. Yes.

I just preempted an episode fully for the first time, probably in our history. But we are going to do missing 411. I'm not going to give the whole thing away, but it has to do with people going missing in the wilds. Yeah. Especially national parks. Yep. Okay. So there's a couple things that come to.

mind when I think about this story of a Yeti or something attacking. And then even as it crosses into our theory, that maybe this is a preternatural, supernatural phenomenon, fairies, that kind of thing. And you do ask the question of, okay, like, but are they allowed to attack people? Because it seems like a lot of ghost stories or things where there's supernatural phenomenon that is fallen, it's still on a leash. Right. And a lot of the, like, the knife gets thrown, but it sticks in the wall right next to you. It's like, the ghosts don't kill you, but they do just freak you out or whatever. They just want to scare you. Are they allowed to? Are they allowed to? However, there is something to be said, and this is where I'm getting a little crazy, is that

what if the fairy bigfoots have been killing people for a long time? As a Christian, it's common to feel uneasy about where your hard-earned money is invested, especially when the S&P 500 is full of companies that are actively supporting causes which go against your faith. Stonecrop Wealth Advisors is here to help. Stonecrop offers faith-based portfolios to help you direct your hard-earned investment dollars away from companies that hate you and toward companies that are having a positive impact on society. They also offer comprehensive financial planning to help give you peace of mind about your future that these investment dollars support. So stop investing in companies that want to tear down

the things that you care about. Instead, invest in building up God's kingdom while you grow your own wealth for your family. Contact Stonecrop Wealth Advisors today by visiting Stonecropadvisors.com slash Haunted Cosmos or by clicking the link in the description below. Investment Advisory Services offered through StoneCrop Wealth Advisors, LLC, a registered investment advisor with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. Brian, you know how sometimes you wake up in the morning? Yeah, hopefully everybody does that. Sure, maybe.

But do you ever feel tired when you wake up? Well, yeah, Ben, I used to all the time. But then I started drinking this new drink. It's actually called coffee, and it helps you wake up. No way. There's a drink that does that. Man, I should give it a shot. You definitely need to try this.

And when you do, you should buy your coffee from Squirley Joe's Coffee. They're a thoroughly Christian company who sends you a great coffee at an affordable price. Plus, they even donate some of their proceeds to Operation Underground Railroad, helping the effort to end child trafficking. Okay, wait, I actually have heard of Squirley Joe's coffee, and they are really. great. They make it super easy to order exactly what you want if you go to www.werelyjo's.com. That's www.squarelyjo's.com and click shop coffee. And first-time buyers can sign up to receive

20% off of their first order. Just go to www. Squirleyjo's.com or use the link in the description below. Squirrely Joe's coffee. Share coffee, serve humbly, live faithfully. And that's, and it's, like, we go, well, they don't ever kill people. Well, no, no, no, that's confirmation bias. That's actually survivorship by us. Because the stories we hear, definitionally, are only going to be from people who survive the encounter. Right, but people go missing all the time.

All the time. Okay, dude. Varies are eating people. Okay, you laughed at me last episode. Do you remember this? I don't remember this. I literally already, in less words. I didn't happen.

It didn't happen. Okay. Roll the tape. There's video. It happened. You roll the tape. You can't say video or do it. It didn't happen.

Hey, roll the tape. I said, maybe I cut it out. I wish I hadn't have. Dang. I remember, I said, have you ever seen the map of all of the cave systems in the U.S.? Yes. And how it's overlaid with the national parks? Like all of the major caverns and tunnel systems in the U.S. are in national parks.

Fairyland, anybody? Okay, see, this is different from what I just said. No, no. You were saying missing 4 and 1 is explained by them getting pulled into the fairyland caves. Corporate wants to find, wants to find the different. It's the same picture. Literally, what a matter? Like, they get eaten in Fairyland.

Like, I don't care. Look, I see it. Here's what I don't think happens. I want to apologize. Okay, I'm a big fan of Robert Kirk. The Secret Commonwealth thing from last episode. Big fan. What I don't think is real is that he gets taken to Fairyland and is basically fine.

Until the final day of judgment. And also that he's like an unembodied human spirit in this third place. Exactly. He's like a chaplain to the Fairy Queen. I'm sorry. But what could happen is he. gets taken eaten by a big foot, which is a fairy in fairyland. Okay. And then like they impersonate. You know what I mean? Oh, and then they do some demon stuff. They do some, just your, more run of the mill

demon stuff. Okay. I think that's perfectly possible. And here's the other thing. I've been thinking about this a lot. So, uh, you know how in Genesis 3, God tells the serpent the whole plan? Absolutely. He's like, hey, I'm going to call my shot. Yeah. Seed of the woman's going to crush your head. Yeah. Do with that what you will. Try to stop me. And then the serpent does with that what he will, what he wills by Genesis 6-4, trying to corrupt the seed of the woman by the fallen angelic influence. And a bunch of other stuff. And a bunch of other things too.

But that's like one of the big ones. So God's like, I'm going to tell you the whole thing, good luck. Time starts now. Yeah, good luck thwarting it. And then so Satan tries his best or whatever. So there's this whole theme of the demonic influence trying to corrupt the seed of man and woman. We see that in the UFO phenomenon today. Oh, yeah.

When I say seat of man and woman, I see the seat of the woman. I'm just going to use the biblical language. We see that in the UFO phenomenon today. But what was one of the biggest things with fairies is this midwife to the fairies where they want to take fertile women. Yeah. So it's a little bit of a flip flop. It's a flip flop. But the theme is still the exact same. It's hybridizing. It's, it's fertility related. It's all I'm saying. That's all you're saying. So basically, I don't know where I was going with that, but things such as like the Iraq, oh, I'm I was, I don't know where I was going with that. It reminds me of Michael Jordan when he gets bored in a game and he's just like, looks at the defender. He's like, look, I'm going to faint left, then I'm going to go right.

I'm going to spin. I'm going to cut it. I'm going to do a mid-range jumper and you're not going to be able to stop me. And then he literally does exactly that and he just makes it. Or when he like closes his eyes for the free throws. We're big basketball fans. Michael Jordan is the only one that we know of. There's a lot like, they won the championship. Chicago Bulls,

96 and 97. Kobe Ryan's. Hekeeb Talib. Larry Falcon. I was going to do a Larry Bird where you guys. Okay. Trey old. I think at this point we've probably said most of our theory here.

Is there anything you want to add before we close it out, Ben? Nothing beyond that I'm completely vindicated for my National Parks Cave System. Fairyland. National Park Cave, fairyland. Connection. Connection to missing 411. Dude, what is the Eighth Commandment? I say it to my son all the time when he takes his brother's toys.

This is. Abner, what is the Eighth Commandment? He says, thou shalt not steal. And I'm like, welcome. Stop doing it. Yes, that's true. Look, did I steal your idea? In a very real sense, no.

But in a subjective sense. Because my theory was Bigfoot is murdering people, and that's missing. Your theory is they're getting sucked in a fairyland, which is actually just cave systems under the national watch. You know, I'm saying like it, you know. Even though the majority of our fairy stories took place in Europe. Yeah, but we're talking about Bigfoot in America. Swamp Island Honey Monster.

Look, let's just go half-seas. Let's say that we both had different equally compelling theories that are overlapping. I'm fair. In a Van Diacriac. As long as you, as long as you say equally. compelling. Equally compelling. Fair enough.

Guys. Well, look, I think it's time to close it out. Haunted cosmonauts. It's been a pleasure here. It has indeed. But you know what time it is. It's time for what I think is like, I'm not trying to overhype it. Yeah.

But a pretty killer closing story. I'm going to tell you all about the Falk monster. Falk is a little town in the very midmost of Arkansas that boast of being a tight community for those who cherish their faith, family, and friendship. In 1908, this rang about. bit more true than it does today. It really was a small and close community of families who valued liberty and opportunity and zeal. It was in this setting that a 10-year-old girl named Kate Saville climbed into the Model T with the rest of her family and headed south of Falk towards the wilderness and

fishing area of Mercer Bayou. Mercer was a swampy area that was well known to the locals as a good place to escape what little hustle and bustle could be found in the surrounding suburbs. couples went there on dates, bachelors went there to hunt and camp, and families, much like what Kate's family was doing that fateful day, enjoyed going there to unwind and maybe catch a fish or two on a Saturday. As Kate watched the hills roll by, she wondered with childlike glee at the thought of what she would do should she be lucky enough to catch a bass or two. It was during this daydream that the family arrived and began unpacking. Mom doled out the sandwiches while dad started tying hooks to lines. they all walked the short distance to the little beach peninsula that served as really the only solid stage in the larger swampy land,

and Kate split up from her siblings to go find some worms she could use for her bait. She hiked a short distance from the solid shore and found herself wading through somewhat thick marsh. The bright sun that painted the world a dazzling, bright white light, mixed with the many leaves of the trees around her to give the whole scene a sort of disorienting effect of brightness, checkered here and there with tiny shadows. She found a handful of worms, but before turning to go back to the beach, wanted to find a couple more.

While she took a big step towards a rock and knelt down to lift it up, she noticed slight movement in the bushes and hooked periphery. She turned to look at the bush head on and could make out the massive form of a hairy creature crouching behind it. She could tell the creature was staring at her. With the naivete of a young girl,

she took small steps towards the creature to get a better look. The creature wouldn't have it. Suddenly, this massive mess of hair and sinew jumped out from the bog and bushes and sprinted with surprising delicacy through the woods. It was soon out of sight. Kate, startled by the quick movements and unexpected sighs of the beast, also started an all-out sprint back to her family and the safety of the beach. None of them saw the beast again, but it was not the end of this monster's legend. This was merely the first recorded encounter with the the dark and tormenting entity that would eventually come to be called the beast of Boggy Creek. As the years wore on, sightings and run-ins with this monster would evolve from the relatively

innocent encounter Kate Hat. 1910, 1916, 32, 43 and 46, 54 and 55, all of these years saw definitive interactions of varying degrees of involvement between people in and around Falk and an unrecognizable monster that was incredibly low. large, hairy, and bipedal. Each of these events also saw a marked difference in how the creature behaved around the victims. The Boggy Creek monster was growing more and more bold. All of it culminated in the 1960s and 70s with a series of sightings and encounters that have attained legendary status in the area.

In 1964, Mary Beth Searcy was living in the small town of Jonesville that lies on the Sulphur River, the source of Boggy Creek, just south of Falk. One night, when Mary Beth was still in high school, her father and brother went on an overnight trip for her dad's work and left her, her older sister, and their mother alone at their home on the outskirts of town, with the family's baby niece that they were babysitting. The full moon was especially bright that night, so the little baby was having a difficult time falling asleep. The stillness of the air created a liminal sense for the young ladies who felt as though their small farmhouse was the only one left in the world, just a small beacon,

in a feeble light in a place grown pale dark with the setting sun. Marybeth's mom especially did not like when her husband went away. Things just didn't feel right. They didn't feel as safe as they did when he was home. At any rate, chores and homework still needed doing, and that meant that the girls had to figure out how to get the baby to sleep. While Mary Beth's mom rocked the child, she asked Mary to try covering the window with a thick bed sheet

to keep out the relatively bright moonlight. As Mary tacked up the first corner of the sheet, She glanced out into the backyard and started back with a scared yelp at the form of a large and hairy and dark creature emerging into their yard from the trees that surrounded it. The eyes glowed with malice in the cold light. At her screams, the baby resumed her cries and her mother and older sister begged her to tell them why she'd screamed. At her story, the women gave way to a shudder and kept an all-night vigil of dread, begging the Lord to keep them safe from the grotesque beast Mary had seen. The next year, a teenage boy named Lynn was hunting for squirrels, all alone in the dense woods of Crabb Tree Lake in Jonesville.

He'd settled into his favorite spot just as the sun finished its course over the world. The moon issued forth its fickle and slipping light, and Lynn waited for his prey in a tall acorn tree. As he listened close to the nighttime sounds of the forest, he overheard some distance away the trot of horses through water and a dog yelping and barking in evident pain. Lynn always expected to hear those horses. They belonged to a neighbor who didn't live far and who had a habit of letting his stable run wild at night. But the dog was unexpected. Lynn, wondering if it could be one of his own dogs,

climbed down from his spot and started the relatively short hike over to the barking. But after he had covered about half the distance, the overall tenor of the dog sound changed. It no longer rang with pain, but rather became very low and angry, almost desperate. Lynn had never heard such a sound from any dog before, and it caused him to stop dead to listen more attentively. He soon realized that there was just no way it could be a dog making the strange noise.

Lynn deduced it had to be coming from something much larger, but what? He walked forward slowly, cautiously, and not the least bit nervous for what he might find. He kept a small shotgun ready in both hands in case something horrible tried to take him at unawares. He crept through some thick bushes that lined the waterline of a seasonally flooded Crabtree Lake and was able to stare clean across the water to see the horses running. But something stood between he and the horses that nearly caused him to swoon with terror. An enormous hairy beast stood on two legs, its back to Lynn, pacing back and forth and shouting its strange and evil call across the lake towards the horses as if it was angry at them.

He figured it could be some monstrous feral moment. man that had scare the horses off and was now frustrated. Suddenly the thing turned around and faced Lynn. The boy stood frozen, realizing this was certainly no man. The monster crept towards him with an evil stare and steady breaths. Lynn raised his gun with shaking hands. The monster seemed unconcerned with the gun and continued its journey to him. Lynn shouted a warning. The thing paid no mind. Lynn gritted his teeth and fired right at the monster's head, but the beast was unaffected. He continued towards Lynn without so much as a flinch. He quickly shot off two more rounds before turning and sprinting away in a complete panic. In late April of 1971, two families moved their

lives into a rental house on the north side of Falk. Don and Patricia Ford, along with their four kids, were set to share the home with the as-yet-childless Charles and Elizabeth Taylor. Idea being, Don and Charles could get a solid footing in their new careers while helping each other to save as much cash as possible for future homes that they could each own separately. The landlord didn't mind so long as they paid a bit extra in rent, and so the situation was settled. But the millstone of horror had gained the momentum it needed in the area around Boggy Creek. Everything was about to explode. Immediately upon their moving in, strange noises started to plague them from just outside the front door as the families wound down for the

night. On April 28th, clear footsteps were betrayed on the covered port. by the creaking of old wooden boards beneath clearly heavy feet. The steps paced back and forth while the frightened audience listened attentively within. Dread and panic started to fill everyone's mind inside until, in a mad rush, both couples and the four children sprinted out of the home and ran to the neighbors without looking back. Eventually, everyone calmed down enough to walk back to their house. The men went first and found no threat lingering anywhere in sight.

Everyone joined them and endured the first of many nights of restless and nervous sleep. Two days later, Don's younger brother and his friend arrived at the home for a weekend stay of visiting and fishing. While the pair, Bobby, Don's brother, and his friend, Corky, hiked to the pond with their tackle boxes and rods, they found strange tracks in the moist soil around the shore. They were incredibly large tracks of something. But what added to the weirdness was the presence of only three distinct toes. As they studied the anomaly, each man got strangely anxious. They looked at each other and then started looking around in paranoid hurry,

as if they were hearing whispers coming from the trees on all sides. Without a word, they abandoned fishing and ran back up to the house for safety. That same night, their unwanted solicitor returned to the porch. The steps resounded without any intention of masking them. After minutes of the familiar pacing, the door handle to the home started to jiggle and shake. this thing, whatever it was, was trying to enter. No one dared glance out of the covered windows. They did not want to see what this thing could be that filled them all with terror.

The following night, Bobby was using the home's smaller bathroom when he suddenly noticed a deformed and monstrous haired face peer into the window. He screamed, ended his business, and ran into the main room just in time to see an enormous and muscular hairy arm with a clawed hand at its end reached through an open window on the home side. The hand was aimed clearly for Elizabeth Taylor, who sat unaware at the den's chair reading a book.

Bobby saw the eyes of the creature flashed with Maleficent red. Bobby grabbed a butcher's knife and pushed Elizabeth off the chair into the wooden floor in hopes of protecting her from the monster. The arm yanked back, and the monster emerged into the night's shadow. Bobby could not see him anywhere. He yelled for Don and Charles to join him. him and the three men armed with a shotgun rushed out the home's front door to confront their

torment or once and for all. In the twilight, they saw a giant and hairy bipedal thing run towards the back of the house. They shot at it multiple times, but presumably missed since the creature didn't react at all. From there, those still in the house watched in horror as this hellish creature ran into the field bordering the house before disappearing once again into the night. The families called the constable, who arrived at the scene just after midnight and performed an hour's long search of the area surrounding the house. He found nothing, but could clearly see the effect this attack it had had on the residents of the small home.

He left another shotgun and police flashlight with them in case the mysterious guest returned. Now armed with multiple guns and flashlights, Don, Charles, and Bobby stood as sentries on the porch of the house. Corky stayed inside to act as a final defense for the women and children. They didn't have to wait long to engage the creature again. After a while, everyone inside started screaming at the sound of the back door being kicked down by some strong and unknown force. The men at the front ran to the back and shined their lights on the monster before immediately

firing multiple shots at it. All three men confirmed that they believed they hit it at least once and saw it fall to the ground just inside of the tall grass of the adjacent field. They all three began walking slowly over to where the beast fell. Presently, everyone in the house started shouting and shrieking once again. Bobby turned and ran for the home while the other two men kept on the trail of what they figured to be their fallen prey. Just as Bobby was about to open the door, after having climbed to the last step of the porch,

a heavy and utterly black mass leapt from the shadows to his side and grabbed him. In his own words, Bobby describes the encounter. I felt a hairy arm come over my shoulder, and the next thing I knew we were on the ground. The only thing I could think about was to get out of there. The thing was breathing real hard, and his eyes were about the size of a half dollar in real red. I finally broke away and ran around the house and threw the front door. I don't know where it went. Bobby rushed inside, and soon thereafter, Don and Charles returned to the house empty-handed

and curious as to what had just happened. Bobby was bruised and cut and was in total shock. He seemed unable to comprehend anything or make any movements for himself. He was frozen with fear. They all piled into cars and drove to the hospital for Bobby. On the way, according to Don's wife, Bobby kept coming to with blood-curling screams as he tried to kick the windows and doors out of the car so that he could escape. After a few seconds, he went back under and stopped all movement.

At the hospital Bobby was treated for his wounds and was confirmed to have not suffered any infection. He was also confirmed to have been sober as a judge. The constable returned again to the house and stayed until 5 a.m. The creature never came back. After sunrise, more police officers arrived to examine the property. They found sheet metal, ripped from the shed, and shingles and siding torn from the house. The window was broken on the door, and the porch was covered in deep scratches. They found dozens of strange, three-pronged tracks in the dirt all around the home. The forwards and tailors immediately moved away, and never returned to Falk. But the question remains, why that house, why those families, why then?

Could it be that this monster from Boggy Creek was sent to them? Could it be that it was trying to steal away Elizabeth Taylor for some nefarious purpose in fairyland? Want more hunted cosmos? Then make your way over to Patreon, where you can get early access to our content as well as exclusive content in regular dusty tomes and monthly live streams with Brian and myself. So go to patreon.com, Haunted Cosmos and sign up now.