Sightings - The Scars To Prove It: Canada, 1967

Episode Date: April 21, 2025

After encountering a mysterious craft in the Canadian wilderness, one man learns that some scars never heal, and some truths can’t be buried.  Sightings is a REVERB and QCODE Original. Find us on instagram @sightingspod Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Some scars tell stories of accidents. Others speak of battles fought and won. But what happens when the marks on your flesh become proof of something beyond human understanding? For one man in the Canadian wilderness, a chance encounter left him with mysterious scars that time can't erase. Because sometimes, the most terrifying thing isn't that the unknown is out there, it's the evidence it leaves behind. Welcome to Sightings, the series that takes you inside the world's most mysterious supernatural events. Each week we bring you a thrilling story that puts you at the center of the action, followed by a discussion that dives into the accounts

that inspired the story and our takes on them. I'm McCloud. And I am Brian, and today we're diving into Canada's best documented UFO encounter, the incident at Falcon Lake. When one man encounters an otherworldly craft in the wilderness, he doesn't simply end up with one incredible story. He bears the scars to prove it. Find out how on this episode of Sightings. My name is Stefan Michalak, and I never meant to become part of Canadian history. All I wanted that day in 1967 was to find some silver.

Instead, I found something that nearly killed me and left me with brutal scars, both psychological and physical. I know a good bit about survival. I was born in Poland, where I spent the first half of my life watching my homeland crumble under the Nazi war machine. When they invaded I worked as an intelligence officer gathering what information I could about their movements, their plans. But they caught me and my year and a half in Gross Rosen concentration camp taught me just how cruel humans can be to one another. I watched

friends die, saw things no person should ever have to see. But I survived. When the war finally ended, I joined the American forces occupying Germany. I worked as a translator while they dismantled the camps, helping document the horrors we found there. The work was grim, but necessary. And when I finally got the chance to move my family to Canada in 1949, I took it without a second thought. It was a fresh start, far from the horrors I'd witnessed. Or that was the idea, anyway. By 1967, I'd built what most would call a good life in Winnipeg. I had a home, a loving wife, three wonderful kids who'd never known the fear of air raid sirens or the gnawing

pain of hunger. I worked as an industrial mechanic at a cement company, honest work that let me use my hands and my mind. But my real hobby, passion even, was prospecting. There's something about rocks and minerals that's always fascinated me. Maybe it's their permanence in a world where everything else seems so fragile. Or maybe it was just being outside in the freedom of the vast forests and mountains. That May I decided to spend Victoria Day weekend prospecting near Falcon Lake. The area was part of the Canadian Shield, this massive plateau of ancient rock that I'd heard good things about. Local prospectors had

been pulling interesting samples from the area, mostly silver with occasional traces of gold. So on May 19th, I caught a Greyhound bus out there, watching the city fade into wilderness through the window. I checked into a small motel, spread my maps across the bed, and planned my route for the next day before turning in early. The morning of May 20th was clear and cool, perfect weather for hiking. I packed light, my prospecting tools, a lunch, some water, and a small notebook for sketching any interesting geological formations I might find. I was in high spirits as I set out, feeling that familiar sense of anticipation.

Maybe today would be the day I'd find something extraordinary. And you know what? I had no idea how right I was. By 9 a.m. I'd found my way to a promising clearing overlooking the lake. A huge quartz vein ran down the hillside, exactly the kind of formation that often held silver deposits. So I got out my pickaxe and goggles and set to work, carefully examining and sampling the crystal and rock. The familiar rhythm of the work soothed me. Check the rock face, swing the pick, examine the fresh surface, and if

I was lucky, find something valuable. The next few hours passed in peaceful concentration as I worked my way along the vein. Birds called from the surrounding trees, chickadees and warblers mostly, with the occasional cry of a hawk riding the thermals high above. I was so focused on my work that I almost missed the first sign that something was wrong. The sound of geese taking flight behind me, honking frantically. And that sound, it was alarm and distress, pure and simple. So I dropped my pickaxe, lifted my safety goggles, and looked towards the lake.

And what I saw there changed the rest of my life forever. Two shiny objects hovered over the water. Two flying saucers. I know how that sounds, but there's no other way to describe them. Each one about 30 to 40 feet wide, oval-shaped with a raised bump in the center, like someone had placed a dome on top of a plate. As I watched they started changing colors, bright red to orange to gray, pulsing almost, as if they were communicating through their colors.

I was so mesmerized that it took me a moment to realize they weren't just hovering in place. They were descending, coming straight down toward me. I stood frozen, pickaxe forgotten in my hand, as one of the objects paused directly overhead. It hung there for what felt like minutes, but was probably only seconds, close enough that I could see that its surface was entirely smooth. Impossibly smooth. Then without warning it shot straight up and vanished into the sky, moving faster than any aircraft I'd ever seen. But the other one stayed, then landed on a flat rock about 150 feet away from where I stood. It kept changing colors until it settled on a bright

silver with this eerie purple light shining from the top. And in the silence of that clearing, I could hear a faint humming, like an electrical transformer coming from the top, and in the silence of that clearing I could hear a faint humming, like an electrical transformer coming from the craft. Then there was the smell, sulfurous, like rotten eggs mixed with burning metal. The odor made my eyes water even from that distance. But even with the otherworldly sight before me, my first thought wasn't aliens. Working around machinery all my life, plus having a son in the Royal Canadian Air Force Youth Program, I figured this had to be some kind of experimental aircraft. American, probably, given how advanced it looked.

So I did what any curious mechanic would do. I started inching closer, trying to spot any familiar markings or insignia. But there was nothing there, no writing or flags or anything. I did see, though, that the craftsmanship was incredible, with the entire hull seeming to have been machined from a single piece of steel, completely seamless. Honestly, it reminded me of Mercury, the way it seemed to flow and shift in the sunlight. Then suddenly a section of the craft's side seemed to... dissolve away, creating an opening that flooded eerie purple light onto the rock below. And I stood there frozen until I started hearing

voices. They sounded human, at least I think they did, but over the engine noise I couldn't make out what they were saying, just that there were two of them, seemingly having a conversation. Their tone didn't sound alarmed or hurried. They sounded… professional, methodical, like technicians going through a checklist. So I called out, asking if they needed help. When no answer came, I tried again in Russian, then German, Italian, French, Polish, every language I knew. But no reply came. Looking back I know I should have run.

Should have gotten as far from that thing as possible. But I'd survived a Nazi concentration camp. What was one strange aircraft? So I put my goggles back on, walked right up to the ship, and stuck my head into that purple opening. There were no pilots inside, no people at all, and the interior was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Beams of light crisscrossed in different directions, others blinked on and off in strange patterns. It wasn't chaotic, there was a mathematical precision to it,

a purpose I couldn't fathom. Banks of what might have been instruments lined the walls, but they bore no resemblance to any control panel I'd ever seen in an airplane. There were no gauges, no dials, just these pulsing, blinking lights arranged in intricate patterns. And it was all so intense, so bright, even through my goggles, that I had to jerk my head back outside. The moment I did, panels slid out of nowhere, sealing the opening as if it never existed. Now the craft appeared completely seamless again. But I noticed something I hadn't seen before.

A section of metal covered in a checkered grid of circular holes, almost like some kind of... exhaust port. The pattern was too precise to be random, arranged in perfect rows and columns. Possessed by an engineer's curiosity, I reached out to touch the hull near that strange pattern. The metal was blazing hot, I could feel it even through my heavy work glove. Before I could snatch my hand away, the entire craft rotated counterclockwise, tilting up toward the sky. The movement was completely silent, defying everything I knew about mechanics. Then came the pain. White-hot agony as some kind of energy burst from those holes, hitting me square in the

chest and stomach. The heat was so intense my shirt caught fire immediately. I tore it off and dropped to the ground, but it was too late. I could already feel severe burns forming across my abdomen, perfect circular shapes that matched the pattern of that exhaust port. And the pain... it wasn't like a normal burn. This felt like it was cooking me from the inside out. As I desperately tried to put out the flames, the craft lifted up and zoomed away into the sky, and the last thing I remember was that thing disappearing from view.

And then the pain overwhelmed me. And I passed out right there on that quartz-covered hillside. I've just been to Specsavers and upgraded my lenses to extra thin in light with 50% off. Now, what else can I upgrade? My cat? Wow. My cat? Meow! Pffft! Wow! My scooter? Pffft!

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Join us at McDonald's for McHappy Day on Thursday, May 8th. Do good, feel good. A portion of food and beverage sales will support RMHC chapters and local children's charities across Canada. When I came to, I was alone on that quartz slab. I don't know how long I'd been unconscious, maybe minutes, maybe hours. I felt horrible, my head pounding like the worst hangover imaginable, sweat pouring off me despite the cool air, my stomach in excruciating pain.

Looking down, I saw a series of perfectly round burn marks on my stomach, matching the shape of that exhaust port. The skin was angry red and blistered, the burns arranged in a geometric grid. Before I could even examine them properly, a wave of nausea hit me and I turned to vomit. The violence of that physical reaction brought a terrifying thought to my mind. If this was some sort of nuclear-powered military vehicle, whatever came out of that ship might have been radioactive. The burns, the vomiting, the headache.

These were all symptoms of radiation poisoning, weren't they? And considering the pain I was in, I needed medical help badly. But I was alone in the wilderness, miles from the nearest town with no one to help. So I had to find my own way out, get to a hospital somehow. I reached for my compass to orient myself, but when I looked at it, the needle just spun wildly, refusing to point north. Even tapping the case didn't help.

It was like the magnetic field around me had been completely disrupted. So I picked a direction and started walking using the sun as a guide. The journey was miserable. Every few minutes I had to stop to vomit. My head throbbed with each step, and I was trailed by that horrible smell. The whole time I kept looking over my shoulder, worrying the ship might come back. But I knew I had to make it home to my family. I'd survived a concentration camp. I could survive this too. After what felt like hours of stumbling through the woods,

I finally found a highway and recognized enough landmarks to know I was about a mile from where I'd entered the forest that morning. And as I trudged back towards town, I spotted salvation in the distance, a mounted police officer coming my way. I flagged him down and tried to explain what had happened, that a mysterious aircraft had appeared in the woods and somehow burned me. But even though I was clearly injured, shirtless, and

obviously in need of medical attention, the Mountie didn't seem to hear a word I was saying. Even when I specifically asked for directions to the nearest doctor, he refused to help. It was as if he'd been ordered not to acknowledge anything unusual, or maybe the story was so outlandish he assumed I was delirious. So I kept walking, and when I finally reached my motel I learned that the only doctor in the area was 45 miles away, with no easy transportation available. But my pain was getting worse, not better, and I needed to get home. So I called my son Mark and told him to meet me at the bus depot in Winnipeg. Then I endured the most

hellish two-hour bus ride of my life. Every bump sent fresh waves of pain through my burned torso, and the nausea kept bubbling up even when we were driving straight. By the time I arrived in Winnipeg, I was barely conscious, but I'll never forget the look on Mark's face when he first saw me, or maybe he just smelled me. Either way, he fought, watering eyes, and rushed me straight to the hospital. After my experience with the Mountie, I was worried the hospital staff wouldn't believe my story either, so I told them I'd been hit by airplane exhaust. The doctors examined my injuries but seemed confused.

They said the burns looked more chemical than thermal, with none of the typical blistering or charring you'd expect from normal heat injuries. So seemingly unsure of what else to do, they gave me some ointment and a sedative and sent me home to rest. I slept most of the next day, plagued by strange dreams of purple light and liquid metal. When I finally woke up I knew I had to tell my family the truth, so I gathered them around and carefully explained that I believed I'd encountered some kind of UFO and that it had somehow burned or irradiated me. To their credit, they believed

me. It was hard not to, seeing how much pain I was in. I couldn't keep food down, and that awful smell still clung to me after multiple showers. My son tossed out the idea that I might have had radiation poisoning, and I immediately worried that if I did, that I'd exposed my entire family to the radiation as well. So the next morning they took me to the Canadian National Atomic Research Center. I was poked and prodded for hours while they took readings from various instruments and scanned different parts of my body. The good news was that I wasn't radioactive in any conventional sense. The bad news was that they had no

explanation for what was wrong with me. The doctors admitted my symptoms looked remarkably similar to radiation exposure, especially the circular burns, which one specialist suggested might have come from focused gamma rays. That would explain the immediate vomiting and the strange smell. The energy could have instantly broken down the food in my stomach. Even though all the scientists seemed both fascinated and disturbed by my case, no one seemed to know what to make of my condition. So, with no clear diagnosis, they too sent me home to recover.

We pulled into our driveway to find a reporter from the Winnipeg Tribune waiting on our doorstep. Somehow he'd caught wind of my story, and since I wanted nothing to do with any publicity, I hobbled past him with no comment, hoping he'd just go away and leave us alone. But the story ran anyway, and everything exploded from there. Headlines appeared across Canada and even in American papers. Other witnesses soon came forward, saying they too had seen strange glowing objects in the sky near Falcon Lake. It seemed like the story was gaining momentum and taking a life of its own. Our phone rang off the hook. Journalists interviewed our neighbors.

People I'd never met claimed to believe me or or called me a liar, or suggested I was crazy. All I could do was try to focus on getting better and shield my family from the worst of the attention. But soon enough representatives from the Royal Canadian Air Force showed up to interview me. It felt more like an interrogation. I got the sense they were worried I'd encountered some kind of enemy spy plane, and they questioned me for hours about it. They asked detailed questions about the craft's capabilities, its method of propulsion, whether I'd heard any radio communications. Then they probed my background, my political beliefs, and whether I had any connections to the Soviet Union. I reminded them I'd escaped Eastern Europe specifically to get

away from communism, but they seemed determined to find holes in my story. Afterward, they sent teams to find the landing site but came back empty-handed. But I knew what I'd seen. I had the burns to prove it. So a few weeks after the incident, I felt strong enough to head back out to Falcon Lake myself. I was scared of what I'd find, or that I'd find nothing at all. But I had some friends with me and they believed my story. So we walked back out into the wilderness and found the exact spot where I'd seen the craft. And there on the ground was a huge outline of the ship in the rock.

We even found scraps of my burned shirt nearby, exactly where I'd torn it off. But the trees surrounding the site had turned withered and yellow, and their branches were dying as if they'd been poisoned. The whole area felt wrong somehow, like something fundamental had been altered at an atomic level. And I worried then, had I been altered at an atomic level, would I wither and die like those yellowing trees. And that uncertainty? That was the most terrifying part of all. I left Falcon Lake that day and never looked back. I hoped that eventually my wounds would heal, people would forget, and life would go back to normal. But deep down I knew better.

I'd survived the horrors of war, a concentration camp, and building a new life in a foreign land, but what happened that day at Falcon Lake changed me forever. Even now, years later, those burns haven't fully healed. Sometimes they ache, especially when it's cold out. And some nights, when I close my eyes, I still see that silver craft and its eerie purple light. I know what I saw that day on Falcon Lake. and I know there's things that defy all our comfortable explanations about how the world works. No government denial, no skeptical reporters, and no doctor's puzzled diagnoses will ever change that.

Maybe you think I'm overconfident. Maybe you think I'm overconfident. Maybe you think I'm crazy. But I can tell you one thing. I've got the scars to prove it. Sightings will be back just after this. OK, Martin, let's try one. Remember, big. You got it. The Ford It's a Big Deal event is on.

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Holy cow, Brian. Tell me everything. Go. Just go. Oh, this one's a cool one. This is very cool. And at least the way you framed it in the story, a very credible sounding witness who didn't seem to have any stake in a hoax, didn't seem to want the attention, just wanted to be healthy.

Yeah, no, I didn't do any real changing on this. This is the way it went down. And because of that, it's really one of the best documented UFO events in Canadian history, if not the best documented UFO event. I was going to say, just in Canadian history. Very true. Well, compare it to, say, Roswell, where the US government has always just been like, oh, nothing happened here. Yeah. You know, it was a balloon.

It's nothing. Don't worry about it. No, I mean, I guess before I get too all kind of hot and bothered about this, it is like every other or almost every other encounter we have here, just kind of one guy's story. There's a lot of pictures. I know. So he has documented scars that are for sure real.

Documented scars, absolutely. And the rest of it is kind of the account basically. But there's a few other things that we'll get to that lend a lot of credibility to this as well. But I mean, just when I was writing this, I think the thing that struck me the most was just this poor man having this horrifying experience and then being in the middle of nowhere

with what basically seems to be radiation poisoning. I know, right? What a bad ass that he's like, this is awful. This is awful, gotta get out of here. Yeah, and he smelled horrible. The smell can we, I'm sorry to interrupt, but like, can you describe, is there a clear description of what that smell was? A burning smell?

It was described from a lot of sources as basically the mixture of rotten eggs. So like a very sulfurous smell with a burning electrical smell. So from a lot of sources. So it's not just him saying, oh yeah, I smelled really bad. There's a bunch of other people who are like, oh yeah, you smell really bad, but this is weird. Yeah, his family noted it too. And interestingly, it wasn't just him that smelled. Like he said, when he was approaching the ship, he smelled it too. So I think whatever it, you know, vented on him or radiated onto him stuck around for quite a while. And I mean, I know, I know we don't want to go to the picture just yet, but...

Let's just go into the picture. Tell us what this picture looks like. It's a picture of the guy. Like, here's the guy, but just with his shirt open, lying down on like a couch or a bed, and he's kind of like gently pressing what looked like these marks on his stomach. But the marks, they're these, it's like circles. Each mark is like a little circle. And the thing that's really weird though, is they're in a grid,

like a perfect grid of little circles. Yeah, listeners, we're gonna put this up on our Instagram for you. Yeah, check it out. To me, McCloud, it looks almost like someone put a Connect 4 board on his stomach and like spray painted. Yeah, yeah. You used it as a stencil.

Yeah, basically. Very strange. And this is verified by a number of doctors that these were scars that he has injured, that he did not just like paint himself for these pictures. Yeah, this is allegedly the scars that he has. Yeah. And then he smelled terrible and then he's got to get out of the woods and his compass was broken

and he's vomiting and then he finds that Mountie. He finds the Mountie. Tell us about the Mountie. Is this guy been tracked down? I don't know about that. I couldn't go digging that far on that. But what struck me about this Mountie, he was the least helpful. Well, what I assumed was that he somehow got dazed by this thing, that he was somehow like just, I don't know,

mentally not there because of, I assumed these aliens did something to him too, but. That's plausible. Or I think some people have reported that maybe he knew that something was going on. And it's you know what you just keep going I'm not even going to engage you basically but it seems like he was completely not helpful yeah but he eventually did make it home which just sort of brings to mind this guy's background as a survivor like the things this guy has been

through in his life are beyond comprehension yeah and to make matters even worse to make me feel even worse for this guy it didn through in his life are beyond comprehension. Yeah. And to make matters even worse, to make me feel even worse for this guy, it didn't come up in the story and we're not going to talk about it a bunch right here, because it's kind of tangential. But he ends up hooking up with this UFO kind of fanatic who was with this one UFO organization, who befriended him and kind of was helping him along with navigating what could have happened to him and things like that. He ended up kind of stealing his story almost, publishing it himself and telling him like,

oh, you know, I'll raise money for you. Didn't actually do that. All the money went to this other guy. So. Ooh. I know. Boo this man. Poor Stefan ended up making no money on this.

Whoa, that's awful. Have his children ever been interviewed or spoken on the public record? Yeah, they have. I think a couple of them, or at least one of them, is involved with a book about this in some capacity. I did not read it. I did not dive into it.

All I know is that this book exists. So I can't be an authority on that. But yeah, like I said, there's a lot of newspaper articles and photographs and other documentation about backing this up that something happened to this guy. And what I find incredibly compelling is there's a lot of corroboration, at least not from anybody who was there and witnessed it necessarily until I guess some people said that they also saw something at Falcon Lake after the fact, which maybe is people just joining the bandwagon or is real, I don't know.

But just like with like doctors and people examining him, you know, it's not like it just came up through hallucination. He was like, guys, I got injured by a spaceship. Look at my belly. It really hurts. Help me. And they're like, okay.

Yeah, and the problem was none of them were really able to help him beyond, we don't know, go home. Yeah. And do we know, did he have these scars till the day he died? Like... It sounds like they faded.

I didn't find any later pictures of him to verify any of that, but his torment didn't go away necessarily. A few months after the incident, he was working at a cement company and his body started just swelling up, he said. And his legs and arms started to balloon almost. They began to turn this dark purple color.

And the burn marks that had kind of faded on his stomach, but were still there, because they were scars basically, they kind of flared up and started burning all over again, which must've been horrifying. That is bizarre. In 1968, he went to the Mayo Clinic and he still was having headaches. He was fainting once in a while and the doctors at the Mayo Clinic confirmed this is not radiation. But they did have a new hypothesis. They thought that he might have been burned by toxic gas.

But what is that? Like what is toxic gas? Like naturally occurring toxic gas or something? Well, as in like it's shot out of the ship. Oh, okay. Onto him and it was hot. Right. And they said that the symptoms that he was experiencing, the reason he might have swelled up while at work that one time is because his body is still kind of fighting whatever compound he was burned with.

So the doctors have all checked him out. But oh, that's right. At some point in the story, the government comes and checks him out too. It's the Canadian Air Force comes and talks to him. And also, ironically, I didn't bring it in the story, but the mounted police came in too. So they were there too, and they came and they interrogated him and questioned him. Why are you giving our friend Chuck a hard time, eh?

Yep, there you go. All of our Canadian listeners were sorry. But the government apparently listened to him, took all of his information, and it believed him enough that they sent multiple teams out to go find this site and couldn't seem to find it. They couldn't find it, but he could find it, at least in the story he could find it.

He went out with some friends and that guy who ended up scamming him for the book, basically. But they found it again. Did they document it all, take any pictures of it? They did. And then they told the government, too, and the government ended up coming out to look at it then afterwards.

But like you heard in the story, they saw the marks on the ground, all the trees were kind of dead. And are there pictures that are available of the site itself? Not that the government has released. But there's also newspaper reports of other witnesses in the vicinity, in like a nearby town of Lockport, for instance, who claimed to have seen lights in the sky the day before that he actually ended up having his encounter. Right.

So a year after the incident though, Stefan went back out there into the wilderness and found the spot again. And this time he found a crack in the rock and he used his prospecting tools and pickaxe and stuff to kind of dig into this crack a little bit. And at the bottom of the crack, like six or eight inches down, he found what looked like molten metal that implies that something melted off the ship fell into the crack and hardened down there. So he dug it out and he had it sent to a lab and they said that it was pure silver which isn't unusual to

find I guess but it was coated in radioactive uranium. Ooh. OK. Let me guess. This sample was never reclaimed. No. There's pictures of this. What he dug out, there's just pictures of it on the ground, you know, just sitting there.

Oh. And on a table. Yeah, he has. My man. He kept it for a while. So. Maybe, you know, maybe there's so much evidence because the Canadian government is just like way nicer.

And it's like, oh, well, I mean, what are you going to do? We found it. It's fair is fair. That's valid. Yeah. I mean, they did eventually close the case. It looks like the government did. Stefan ended up passing away eventually.

Did he live a normal lifespan? Sounds like it. I think he died in the 90s. Natural causes, not of radiation, poisoning or toxic chemicals? Not that I could find, just the natural dying of old age. Okay. This is maybe the most compelling story that we've had, period.

I agree because we have a lot more than just, this is what happened to me and just take my word for it. And because of that, I don't know how theory wise, I think the theories are either A, this was an elaborate hoax. It would be an elaborate hoax. Or B, and this is what I'm inclined to believe, I think the believer be very strong with this one.

You know, he saw something. And I think the big beaver is strong with this one. You know, he saw something. And I think the big question now is, was it a ship of extraterrestrial origin? Or was it a foreign craft of some kind, some kind of experimental technology? I can imagine a radioactive spacecraft as like an experimental craft. But then the other thing that's weird is,

he heard voices inside the ship. Yeah, that was weird. And then he went and poked his head inside and there was no one inside the ship. Right. So that's kind of weird. If this was a human ship, where did those people go? Yeah.

But even if it's an alien ship, where did those aliens go? Like why would, and if they weren't physically there, if they were somehow, I don't know, computerized digital AI beings or something, like why were they bothering talking to each other through speakers or whatever? Mm-hmm, that's valid, that's valid.

I mean, also he did just poke his head in the ship for like what sounded like a very quick instant before the thing shut again. Maybe there was a back room. Yeah, they were in the toilet. So, and what the voices he heard were like, Carl, we're out of toilet paper. Yeah, there you go.

So, there it is, the Falcon Lake incident, which I think has taken the trophy for me as I'm believer beavering that he saw something and something did that to him. Was it an alien ship necessarily? I don't know if there's necessarily evidence to prove that. But between the marks on him and the sightings that are corroborating and the government's involvement and all the doctors and all the things.

Yeah, it seems like this certainly takes my crown of believer beavertim as well. I can't say like I do like 100% believe, but like I'm like, I got no other idea, because whoa. Listeners, we want to hear if it had the same effect on you. Hit us up on Instagram at SightingsPod, or find us on Spotify. Leave us a comment there. It's awesome. We read all of them.

Yeah, review us on Apple, too. We read those, too, even if we don't get to interact please absolutely five stars. Okay, so Brian I don't want to leave this because it's I'm just kind of it gets energized me But I'm sure next week will be every bit is scintillating. So Brian where we headed next week So we are actually gonna head into the realm of listener stories Yeah, we got three new stories actually from around the world. Oh! Coming your way. And listeners, if you're new to the show, these could be anything. They could be ghost stories, they could be alien stories, they could

be you found a secret time portal in your closet, which we haven't gotten that story yet. But if you did, let us know. please send that to us. Yeah, so it's going to be fun. We're going to creep you out all over again. Come back next week, same time, same place, here on Sightings. Sightings is hosted by McLeod, Andrews, and Brian Sigley. Produced by Brian Sigley, Chase Kinzer, and McLeod, Andrews. Written by Brian Sigley. Story music by, and McLeod Andrews. Written by Brian Sigley.

Story music by Madison James Smith. Series music by Mitch Bain. Mixing and mastering by Pat Kickleiter of Sundial Media. Artwork by Nuno Cernanos. For a list of this episode's sources, check out our website at sightingspodcast.com. Sightings is presented by Reverb and Q-Code. If you like the show, be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast platform, so you're first to hear new episodes every week.

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