The bathroom of blood!

Next week on Scary True: On the 3rd floor, in the 3rd stall, a ghost is waiting. Visit "The Haunted Bathroom of Blood-Red Death!"
And check out this week's Bigfoot story, "The Big Gray Man."

The Big Gray Man

Most people would agree that there exists a clear boundary between the ordinary and the extraordinary, the everyday world and the realm of magic and monsters. As much we may want to rush out and cross that border, we find we must wait until it somehow overtakes us. Sometimes, however, the border between the natural and the supernatural is shrouded in shadow and fog.

John is an avid outdoorsman and hiker. In the early summer of 1995, he set out for a hike up New Hampshire’s Mount Washington, the tallest peak in the northeast. John had made the hike many times in the past, but he had no idea that this would be the last time he would ever set foot on the mountain.

“Washington is a rugged hike but that’s not really where the danger is,” John explains. “The weather can turn on you without any warning.”

Many hikers, unprepared for freezing temperatures in the middle of summer, have succumbed to hypothermia. And the mountain’s strong winds, some of the highest ever recorded, have been known to simply push the unwary off the slopes and to their doom.

But John had been up the slope before and knew what to expect. Rain, wind, and fog weren’t so much a function of the weather as they were natural features of the mountain.

“You have to respect the mountain,” John tells me. “Or it might just shove you off.”

John started up the slope in bright spring weather. Quickly, however, the mountain showed its true colors and the fog and mist closed in.

“I was making good time. I was getting close to the summit,” John recalls, “when I saw another hiker ahead.”

The fog obscured his features, but John could see the outline of another hiker on the path above him. He appeared to be standing still, possibly resting. John figured he would have some company up the slope.

But, as John looked up from the uneven terrain, the hiker was gone. “At that elevation, there aren’t trees and not many shrubs,” John tells me. “There just wasn’t any place to go.”

John reached the spot where he had seen the fellow hiker but saw no sign of life. He looked past the rocks and grass to the dizzy void of mist. John was alone.

He continued his ascent. In the rigid stillness of the mountain, John forgot about the strange figure. Then he heard the footsteps.

“I was walking and I realized I was hearing someone else walking, too,” John remembers. “They were taking a step every time I took a step and stopping when I did.”

It seemed that someone was shadowing John’s footsteps. Every step of John’s was echoed by another that seemed to follow behind him.

John stopped to survey the slope. Down the mountain, the fog hung thickly. Nothing stirred among the scrub and boulders.

Then, at the corner of John’s vision, a figure suddenly moved, sprinting from a large rock. When John looked in that direction, however, he saw nothing. 

“The glimpse of it I got,” John recalls, “was something big and gray and ... well, hairy, I guess, like an ape.”

John shook off the fear that had begun to close around him. He knew that hikers had sometimes had strange experiences when the weather turned or they had overexerted themselves. The brain had lots of tricks and it liked to play them.

John remembered the shadows he had jumped at and the strange nighttime howls he had heard when he hiked part of the Appalachian Trail. Most hard-core hikers had stories like that to tell, stories about the strange things one only saw alone in the wilderness.

John played over in his mind the events of those far-off days when he was a much stronger hiker and he could go all day without rest. John heard a crunch directly behind him.

He turned so quickly he nearly lost his balance and fell. There was nothing behind him but a wall of fog. If he had fallen, would he have been swallowed up inside it?

A quick decision and John decided he was going to make the summit; there was plenty of daytime left and only his fear to face there.

John climbed and, as he did, he heard a distant coughing howl followed by menacing laughter that seemed to originate right in front of him.

In the fog to his side, a hairy figure sidled up the slope. “I knew if I looked, it would just disappear or hide or whatever,” John recalls. “So, I just kept going. I think it wanted me to stop and look.”

John was convinced that he was in a struggle, if not for his life, then for his self-respect. The only way to win was to reach the top. The howls and laughter followed him the rest of the way up.

“There it was, the summit, right in front of me,” John tells me. “And there it was, too. That damn thing was right there.”

There at the top of Mt. Washington, in the eddies of soupy fog, stood a man-like figure ten feet tall, eyes alight in angry red. Although its gaunt frame was covered in dirty hair and almost lost in the mist, its regal stance seemed suited more to a gray king than a shaggy beast.

John stopped and waited; he was too exhausted now to resist whatever was about to happen. He doubled over to rest his arms on his knees and, when he looked up, he was alone. The big gray man was gone.

“I had won the fight,” John tells me. “Or at least that’s what I thought.”

John rested at Washington’s summit before the journey down. He looked out across the fog and contemplated what he had been witness to. Had it been a living creature or his own mind he had bested? Then the laughter returned.

It dawned on John that he had misread the situation on the mountain. Maybe the figure he had seen was not an animal, not an apparition, not his imagination. Maybe it was a trap.

“As I was went as fast as I could down the mountain, I was turning it all over in my mind,” John remembers. “It wasn’t a monster following me, it was the fog all around me!”

John believes that the thick fog that smothers Mt. Washington is alive with some kind of intelligence, some malevolent force with the ability to produce auditory and visual phantoms. Is it powerful enough to lure hikers close to precarious cliffs? Is it strong enough to push them off?

Before Mt. Washington was Mt. Washington, Native Americans called it Agiocochook, the Home of the Great Spirit. The harsh weather that constantly pounds the range was taken as a sign that this was a place where gods and spirits walked; humans were not welcome and, if they ignored the warning, they came at their peril.

Big and gray and scary all over!

Next week on Scary True: At the peak of New Hampshire's Mount Washington, a strange creature slips through fog and mist, stalking unwary hikers! Is it Bigfoot? Is it a ghost? What is "The Big Gray Man?"
And check out this week's monster story, "It Came From Below."

It Came From Below

Deep below the earth’s surface, dark secrets lie hidden and waiting. When the time is right, they find their way up, burrowing through rock and dirt and bursting into stark sunlight. Is it luck that anyone at all is there to witness the terrible moment? For one young man, simply being a bystander to long-buried mysteries was frightening enough.

About two years ago, Roberto worked as a software engineer just south of Phoenix, Arizona. “I’m kind of a code monkey,” he tells me.

The company he worked for had just moved into a state-of-the-art office complex in a technology development corridor. “Pretty much they laid down some road and water pipes out in the desert,” Roberto tells me, “and we put a building out there.”

Roberto’s company flourished in the desert. Construction started on more office buildings, grass and shrubs were trucked in, sprinklers chugged and sprayed at twilight. The desert blossomed with high-tech industry.

“They were really tearing things up out there,” Roberto recalls. “Everyday they were pushing deeper into the desert. They even found a huge cave system out there.”

Not far from Roberto’s office, a significant speleological discovery was made. While building a new road, a chance rock slide uncovered an previously unknown cave system. A subsequent geological survey determined that it was very extensive and had never before been open to the surface.

“I guess it was like a giant Tupperware container – all sealed up,” Roberto says, “and now it was open.”

One day in early December, Roberto snuck out for a cigarette to one of his office’s many landscaped terraces. “They’re all these weird little balconies and patios,” Roberto remembers. “No one uses them except for a smoke.”

While Roberto smoked, he turned over in his mind the tasks he still had to complete that Friday afternoon. He watched as a bird picked it’s way among the rocks in a dry creek bed that ran behind the office. The bed was blazing in the sun, the only shade being under a small bridge.

As the bird approached this respite, it suddenly screeched and Roberto saw it disappear in fit of feathers and claws. “Crazy as it sounds, what it looked like was a white alligator jumped up and ate the bird,” Roberto explains.

Roberto was at a loss to understand what he had just seen. Nothing stirred among the bleached rocks in the creek bed. Roberto went back inside and did what he always did in these situations. “I googled the hell out of it,” Roberto tells me.

What at first looked mostly like an alligator was, Roberto determined, the claw of something like a lobster or crayfish, or rather, a very large, white one. “It mostly looked like the pics of crayfish that live in caves and are all white,” Roberto says. “Except, of course, for the size of it.”

Roberto estimates that, based on the size of the bird, the claw that grabbed it must have been two or three feet long.

Although most people would be reluctant to come face to face with such a monster, Roberto was not among them. “I was freakin’ excited,” Roberto remembers. “I got my guys together and we got some gear. We were gonna put that thing up on YouTube.”

The next day was Saturday and two of Roberto’s friends met him that afternoon in the office building’s sprawling parking lot. They had spelunking ropes and cameras and rock-climbing gloves and cameras and flashlights and helmets with cameras.

“My one friend, Matt, brought a harpoon,” Roberto tells me. “I said, ‘Dude, why do you even own a harpoon?’”

The three friends descended into the creek bed, the rattle of their equipment the only sound under the unblinking sun. For several hours, they explored the length of the creek bed. The rocks were silent and undisturbed; the tunnel under the bridge was dark and deserted.

‘“The only thing we found was this weird white stuff,” Roberto recalls. “We thought it was plastic until we looked it up on my phone.”

Roberto and his friends suspected they had found the remains of a large invertebrate’s moulting process, specifically a piece of discarded exoskeleton. As night fell, the satisfied friends returned to their cars only to find more evidence waiting for them.

“My friends’ cars were busted up,” Roberto recalls. “Tires slashed, fenders bent – it was pretty bad.” At first, they suspected vandals, but it was hard to imagine who would travel so far for so little.

Then they noticed that all the damage was on the bottom half of the cars; the windows were suspiciously intact. “It looked like something short and strong went apeshit on it,” Roberto tells me.

Roberto and his friends felt deflated; all the time they had spent in the creek bed and the creature they were hunting had been here. In the far darkness between the parking lot lights, they heard a distant scuttling, like the clacking of claws on pavement. Then, they felt afraid.

Roberto and his friends piled into the one car with intact tires and left, never to return to hunt the strange beast. “That was definitely enough for me,” Roberto recalls. “I didn’t really need to be a YouTube star.”

For the next few months, Roberto’s colleagues were warned not to use the parking lot at night alone in fear of wandering vandals. The exoskeleton sample that Roberto had collected rapidly deteriorated. And in December, a flash flood washed and cleaned the creek bed.

“Nobody saw anything after that,” Roberto recalls. “It was all over.”

Roberto speculates that the cave system, closed off for thousands of years, had produced a monstrous version of a cave crustacean. Exploring our world at night, it had inadvertently been trapped when the sun rose and either died on the surface or found its way home. We are left to wonder what sorts of creatures a giant crayfish would prey upon or what kind of monster it might be prey for.

A few months after Roberto told me his story, he contacted me again to report what he thinks may be evidence of the creature’s return. 

“So, they just finished this office down the road,” Roberto writes. “A guy who works there swears he saw something weird in the underground parking garage. He said it looked like a white alligator!”

Sub-horror!

Next week on Scary True: What terrifyingly bizarre horrors lurk in the vast, deep darknesses of America's office parks? Where did it come from? "It Came From Below!"
And check out this week's faerie story, "What Jenny Saw." 

What Jenny Saw

Belief in the supernatural is usually based on one strange, unexplained encounter – a single event that changes a life forever. One glimpse into the world of the paranormal can leave many searching their whole lives for another; for some, however, the glimpse becomes a stare that cannot be averted.

Jenny has been an EMT in Polk County, Arkansas for over fifteen years. In that time, she has seen enough emergencies to fill a hospital many times over. Of all the things she has seen, it was a call about a woman in labor that turned out to the most terrifying of all.

“It was at the end of a long night when the call came in,” Jenny tells me. “Couple’s car broke down and the lady’s in labor.” Jenny and her partner, Dale, fired up the ambulance and sped down the old country roads with sirens wailing and lights blazing.

The dispatcher directed them north towards the sprawling Ouachita National Forest. “Those roads were only used if you was heading up to the park,” Jenny tells me. “And it was pretty late in the day to go out for camping.”

Dale guided the old ambulance down paved roads and then dirt roads until the headlights picked out a car by the side of the road. A figure stood beside it.

“So, the husband was outside waiting for us, smoking a cigarette,” Jenny recalls, “while his wife was in the car in labor, huffing and puffing.”

The man explained that they were out for a drive when his wife went into labor. Jenny registered the story’s holes, but the only thing that mattered was the care of her charge. She approached the car.

“Well, when I first laid eyes on her,” Jenny remembers, “I had a bit of a shock.”

The backseat where the woman lay was dark, but Jenny could see her eyes like two silver plates. She was thin as smoke but had a robust glow and her hair, white as lightning, spread out behind her face. “Help me,” she said to Jenny.

Jenny turned to the man and rechecked his appearance: he seemed normal, very much so. This woman in the backseat, however, gave Jenny a strange feeling, a mix of unearthly alarm and powerful serenity.

Dale gave Jenny a nudge and her reverie fled. They got to work. “It was kind of a blur after that,” Jenny tells me. “There are a few things I remember, but not a lot.”

The birth was long but the woman never complained; she never even screamed. Jenny asked where the couple was headed, but the mother only mentioned something vague about her father’s home in the mountains. “If they were heading into the woods, there’s no one living up there,” Jenny says. “There’s places up there with no trails, no people at all for hundreds of years.”

Jenny remembers the baby in it’s mother’s arms, but she can’t recall what it looked like or even its sex. What sticks out in Jenny’s memory the most, however, is the child’s eyes and how they got that way.

“The mother took this jar out of her pocket.” Jenny recalls. “I thought it was a rock at first.” The mother opened the jar and, using her fingers, rubbed the green ointment within into the eyes of her newborn.

“That baby looked all around after that and its eyes were just shining,” Jenny remembers. “That’s all I remember about it: those eyes.”

The next thing Jenny remembers is the couple getting into the car and driving away. But before they did, the mother touched Jenny’s hand and thanked her.

“That’s when it got weird. They just drove off with the baby,” Jenny tells me. “They should’ve gone with us to the hospital, but we didn’t even try to stop them.”

On the ride back, Dale and Jenny discussed the strange night’s events with growing unease. They didn’t remember much of what happened, but most of all they didn’t understand what had compelled them to ignore all their years of training.

When they returned to the garage, they called the dispatcher to get the details of the call. “Well, the dispatcher said we were crazy,” Jenny recalls, “and there wasn’t any call about a couple that night.”

Jenny and Dale did not know what to do except call it a night and hope they could figure it out in the morning. As they parted, Jenny suddenly clutched her left eye and screamed in pain.

“I was pretty exhausted and I guess I rubbed my eye,” Jenny says. “Well, when that lady touched me, I think she got some of that green goo on my hand and now I had it in my eye.”

A rinse under the sink took the pain away. Dale reluctantly let Jenny go home where she fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning seemed to come suddenly and Jenny awoke to a glorious sunny day. “The birds were chirping away and the sky was so blue and bright,” Jenny remembers, “and there were a lot of butterflies.”

As Jenny drove to work, she was astonished to see the air filled with all manner of insect. While she waited at a red light, a large locust fluttered by the window. “I thought it was my mind playing tricks,” Jenny says, “but I could’ve sworn it had a head and arms like a person and its legs were a bug’s.”

When Jenny got to work, she tried to talk to Dale about the previous night. To her surprise, Dale claimed no memory of the events Jenny described. “I thought I was going crazy,” Jenny tells me, “and things only got worse after that.”

Jenny and Dale headed out on their first call. Passing a large field, Jenny noticed a strange figure walking by the side of the road. “As we came up, I thought he needed help,” Jenny recalls. “I told Dale to slow down.” 

Dale gave Jenny a puzzled look and pressed on the brake. As they came alongside the figure, Jenny saw the back of a man wearing a large, dusty black coat and a matching wide-brimmed hat. “And he was, oh, about ten feet tall,” Jenny adds.

Jenny told Dale to keep driving and, as they passed the man, Jenny saw his black eyes set in a chalky face, long jagged nose, and the tusk-like teeth jutting from his jaw. Jenny could tell that Dale had not seen what she had seen.

“It was just a tough day is all I can say,” Jenny tells me. “But I had to do my job while I thought I was going nuts.”

During her lunch break, Jenny went to a friend’s house for some comfort and advice. Jenny’s friend quickly led her out to the back deck so they could take in the sun but before she could even sit down, Jenny got up to leave.

“I looked out to her garden and I saw the weirdest thing,” Jenny recalls. Swarming over the grass and flowers were hundreds if not thousands of tiny red cones. They jostled and twisted, thronging like ants, and then Jenny realized that they were tiny red hats worn by tiny men, busily going about their unfathomable business. The sight made Jenny feel sick to her stomach.

Jenny called Dale. She told him she was sick and was going home early. She had one last stop, however, at the local Wal-Mart. “I had to get the cat some food,” Jenny tells me. “I thought it would be safe.”

Jenny kept her eyes on the tiled floor as she made her way through the light crowd of afternoon shoppers to the pet food aisle. In her haste, she had forgotten a cart, so she filled her arms with cat food cans and headed for the checkout.

“I was walking along with my head kinda down, looking at the floor,” Jenny remembers, “and that’s the only reason I even saw him.”

As Jenny took a shortcut down the shampoo aisle, she passed a curious set of feet. They appeared to be very large goat hooves and they were sticking out of a pair of tan slacks.

“I made it to the next aisle,” Jenny tells me, “before I choked and dropped all those damn cans.” As she bent over to pick them up, she noticed a fellow shopper kneeling to help. His face was lean and sharp and his hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. His eyes were like silvery pools, not unlike the eyes of the stranded mother and her unnatural child. He wore a blue collared shirt and tan slacks. His smile was so wide it threatened to slice his face in half. It was the goat-footed shopper and he stared with keen interest at Jenny.

“You can see me?” he said to Jenny. She nodded. He licked his lips with a long pink tongue, and then he said, “Let me ask you, do you see me with with both your eyes or is it just with one?” Although she felt the gathering danger, something about his eyes made Jenny answer against her will. “Just the left eye,” she told him.

Jenny saw a flash of teeth and then an unbearable pain closed around her left eye. The goat-footed shopper had vanished and Jenny lost consciousness from the pain.

“I woke up in the hospital,” Jenny tells me. “They said I had some kind of mini-stroke, but I know what happened.”

Jenny contends that her extraordinary sight, the sight she had gained from her encounter with the strange couple, had been forcefully removed by the goat-footed Wal-Mart shopper. It had been something she was, perhaps, never meant to have. In the end, the gift of seeing what did not want to be seen cost her the normal use of her left eye. 

“In a way, I’m almost glad I don’t have to see those things anymore,” Jenny says. “I see enough bad things in my job that I don’t need the monsters, too.”

What did she see?

Next week on Scary True: A chance encounter with the unknown leaves one woman with the power to see the hidden world! Find out what happens when the unseen don't want to be seen. Come and see "What Jenny Saw."
And check out this week's ghost story, "Ghost Hunter: The Ghost That Grew."

Ghost Hunter: The Ghost That Grew

Gail is a ghost hunter. I have known her for a long time, longer than her career as a ghost hunter, and, after years of begging, she has agreed to publish the details of one of her most terrifying cases. We welcome Gail the Ghost Hunter to Scary True.

“The first time I set eyes on the Hooper house was June of 1982. I had never seen such a forlorn, hopeless-looking house, and I have seen some very bad houses in my days, some very mean houses. The Hooper house was a house of despair.

“The history goes that it was built in the 1870s in northeastern Connecticut. By 1915, a young farmer named Clayton Hooper was living there with his wife, Catherine. I don’t know whether Hooper bought or inherited the house because some of those records are missing.

“The Hoopers started a family. In total, they had four children. The last child, a girl, died within a year of her birth, and it seems that Mrs. Hooper lost herself to grief. After the surviving children grew up and moved away, Clayton and Catherine lived in the house until their deaths in the 1950s.

“The house sat empty for many years. That part of Connecticut was not faring well economically, and no one who lived in those parts could afford it. Finally, in the late 1970s, it was sold to a couple up from New York.

“This couple, David and Rachel, wanted to leave the city and settle down in the country, raise a family. They planned on fixing the place up. They were nice folks, but they didn’t know what they had bought. 

“I first got the phone call from Rachel after she had heard me on a show about ghosts that a local radio station out of Massachusetts had done. As soon as we began talking, I could tell that there was something extraordinary about this case.

“Her husband, David, spent the weekdays in the city while she looked after the renovations. There had been some strange sounds – footsteps mostly – but Rachel wasn’t bothered by it at all until she started to hear the crying.

“Now, you can get a lot of different manifestations in a haunting, but in my experience, crying is very rare. There was a room – it was going to be a home office – where a lot of the trouble took place.

“Like I said, it was June of ‘82 when I went up to see the house. Rachel invited me in and I immediately felt her warmth and her heart. David wasn’t home.

“I’ve studied ghosts for many years, but I’ve experienced them my whole life. I can sense when they’re around, and I can feel a bit of what they feel. Some folks call me a psychic.

“Rachel took me up to that room, and I knew right away what was there. I didn’t want to scare her because it’s sad, you know? It was that baby, the Hooper baby, and it was still up in that room. I think that room must have been the nursery and that must have been where that baby died.

“I sat Rachel down and I told her about the research I had done on the house and the bad things that had happened there. She wasn’t surprised; she must’ve known from the crying. But she surprised me when she told me that it wasn’t the baby ghost that bothered her, it was the other one.

“She showed me her back. There were four long deep scratches. She said it had happened just before she called me. She was a little embarrassed by it, and didn’t want to tell over the phone. She was moving some boxes in the office and something attacked her, threw her across the room. 

“Well, that is not the action of a ghost; that is an inhuman entity, a demon. I thought that was why I didn’t sense more than one ghost; a demon doesn’t register like a ghost does, it comes across on a different kind of spiritual frequency, so to speak.

“We spent the rest of the afternoon preparing ourselves for a cleansing. It’s like an exorcism for the house. I planned on making contact with the entity and confronting it. Usually, calling out a ghost can be enough to send it on its way.

“We opened up all the windows, we salted the doors, we started burning the sage. We started on the ground floor smudging the sage smoke into every room and then we went upstairs. We worked the smoke into every nook and cranny we could find. We had the one last room to cleanse.

“It was cold in the old nursery, bone-chilling cold. As soon we stepped through the door, the whole room seemed to darken and lengthen, like it was growing and swelling with the darkness.

“I took the smoke all around the room and I called down the powers that look after me. Rachel and me could hear the crying start softly in the corner and all the time I was talking, it grew louder and louder. Soon it was just wailing and wailing at us.

“I told that demon it needed to leave. I felt so bad for that little baby, but it didn’t seem like the demon was really responding at all. Usually, at this point, we’d get an entity lashing out at us with noises or psychokinetic activity or even physical attacks.

“The crying was starting to get to Rachel and she shouted back, ‘Please, please stop.’ Now, that seemed to change something, like the ghost recognized something in her voice and the crying starts to fade away.

“But as it did, we experienced a manifestation. The room got so dark you couldn’t see the walls anymore and it seemed like the room was very big, like a ballroom. There was a noise like something coming across the floor, and we could see something coming, something moving like a shadow from very far away, impossibly far away.

“It was a baby, or at least, it looked like a baby. It was pale and it seemed to shine in the dark. It had these black streaks all over it, like oil or something, mostly coming out of its eyes. And as it moved and got closer, it changed, it grew. It was crawling and then it was walking and then it was running. It just kept getting bigger and bigger, closer and closer.

“It was like the room became a tunnel and the tunnel stretched out to somewhere beyond the house, beyond our world. At one end of the tunnel was the baby and at the other end was something that it had become, something it had had grown into.

“Now, I don’t know what the spirit world is like, but I figure there’s no reason that time works the same there as it does in our world. I think what we saw was the time that this particular ghost moved through; all of it, all at once.

“It seemed like it was very close to us now and it certainly was not a baby now. It was truly gigantic, like a giant shadow, and it was barreling down the tunnel at us and it was just full of fear and hate.

“Rachel spoke again and she said, ‘Please be a good baby,’ and this thing, it started to cry again. Then I think I knew what had happened. You see, a baby is like a sponge, it absorbs everything around it in order to grow. In fact, it can’t do anything but learn and grow, and this baby, when it crossed over, was fixed on growing. It didn’t know anything else.

“This ghost had grown up, it had become something else, something spiteful. There never was a demon, it was just the baby all along.

“Rachel, bless her heart, she knew what to do better than I did. She said, ‘Hush, now. Go to sleep, baby,’ and it seemed like the room started to shrink and everything went pitch dark. The crying went away and now we could hear a soft whimpering and then that went away, too.

“The room brightened up, back to what it should have been, with nothing out of place. I didn’t quite sense the baby ghost anymore, but I did get the feeling that something was still there, something just below the surface, so to say.

“I said my goodbyes and had to thank Rachel for her quick thinking. Of course, when I left her that night, I told her, ‘Don’t wake that baby, now.’ She never had a problem with the ghost again, and she went on have four children of her own, and I think that went a long way to keeping things quiet at the Hooper house.”

So true, it's scary!

Next week on Scary True: A master ghost hunter tells the terrifying real-life tale of a ghost so strange, so bizarre, it could only be true! Get twisted with "Ghost Hunter: The Ghost That Grew."
And check out this week's Mother Meade story, "Giant of Pennsylvania."

Every so often, Scary True would like to spotlight websites, books, films, and other fun stuff that promote scares, creeps, and the heebie-jeebies for the edification of our readers. This time Scary True goes in search of Bigfoot Evidence, your round-the-clock source for Bigfoot news. Bigfoot Evidence has been a favorite site for some time, but it has been especially entertaining lately as the Bigfoot community waits with bated breath for the release of a mysterious scientific paper that purports to prove Bigfoot's existence conclusively. For some reason, this means that every Bigfoot researcher, tracker, and enthusiast is at each other's throats. The best resource for following the controversy and all the fun is the amazing Bigfoot Evidence.