Something I've wanted to ask about for awhile is whether or not any /x/philes had any paranormal and/or /x/ related experiences as a boy scout. (If not, I guess we can just make this innawoods general). I had several, and am more than eager to share some of them and see what /x/ thinks. If there’s interest I’ll share some stories/answer questions/whatever.
They say one in hand is better than two in the bush.
Was never a scout or whatever, but have an adventurous father that exposed me to the same kind of stuff.
>be me, maybe 12
>out boating at Shasta with senpai this summer
>headed back to camp well past dark
>starting back from the far side of the lake near the dam, got dinner at the restaurant on the water, camp was all the way back at antlers.
>here anon, use this 1.21giga-lumen lamp to keep an eye ahead, says father
>long slow journey back because night time speed limit on the lake
>passing by a large uninhabited section of the lake faintly see what looks like a tall dark 7 foot+ tall figure walking up and away from the waters edge at the edge of the lights throw. Bare shoreline, so nothing to cast shadows.
>I seent a samsquanch?
Didn't swim to shore to look for big footprints before anyone asks.
I'll take this as signs of interest. Sorry for the return; I went to bed.
I guess I'll start with the most profound one I had, which to this day I still cannot explain. This particular incident occurred in rural Oklahoma, and is part of the reason I've severed all ties with the BSA and refuse to go camping without a large group. I can say with certainty that there are things hiding out there in the rural parts of the world that we need to leave alone, for the sake of both us and them.
First, a bit of backstory. This is gonna be long, but necessary. Trust me.
I have lived my entire life in Oklahoma, and it’s probably just about as rural as most of you think it is. Outside of the Oklahoma City/Moore/Norman area and Tulsa, Oklahoma is mostly small towns, casinos, and lots (I mean lots) of woods and open plains. Backcountry galore; a perfect place to teach young scouts the basics without throwing them right into the heart of the fray. It’s usually pretty quiet everywhere you go and people are generally friendly. We’re the definition of fly-over state. If there’s one thing people probably immediately relate to Oklahoma, it’s Indians/Native land/reservations/folklore/etc. While this stuff isn’t prevalent in the bigger cities, it becomes incredibly prominent as you enter the more rural parts of the state. (For those curious, I’m not sure how much land is still legally considered “Native”, but it’s probably more than any other state.) This particular incident occurred the Summer of 2011 at a Scout camp not too far from the Oklahoma/Texas border. This was the last trip I ever made out there, and I don’t really regret it. Camp lasts Sunday through Saturday, One week. Arrive on Sunday, work on merit badges Monday -Thursday, chill Friday, leave Saturday.
The leaders of my troop were comprised almost entirely of one family, whom I'll call the Perkins. There was the great-grandfather, C, the grandfather, D, and the grandson, Buck. C was about 75 when I joined, and fit the "crotchety old man" stereotype like a glove. He was abrasive, impatient, and quick to lose his temper while at the same time happy help any boy that didn't ask stupid questions. C was also a war veteran (not sure which war though). D was a lot like his father, except... I duno. Cryptic? I guess what I'm trying to say is that you could tell D had seen some shit. He was a little out there, very "my way or the highway", "do what I say if you don't wanna die" kind of guy. Probably 60-ish, but built like a bear. The man was massive and intimidating, and he knew it. To this day I think D knows a hell of a lot more about this particular incident than he'll ever tell, but I never had the courage to ask him about anything. Buck, the grandson, was about a year older than me. Buck was a bit thick in the head, but he was tough and built just like his granddad. He was also as loyal as a golden retriever, and the word "fear" wasn't exactly in his rather limited vocabulary. But I digress.
Another key player was my best friend at the time, Dylan. Dylan was stubborn, headstrong, and generally looking for trouble. He and I started scouts together at 6, and were the only two that had stuck together since that time. We were usually inseparable, which probably saved our lives that night. Now, I was about the opposite of Dylan. I was meek, easily scared, and suffered from constitutional delay, which means that I looked like I was 10 even though I was 15. Pic related. I'm the scrawny kid in the blue. This was taken earlier in 2011, around April.
Anyone lurking at all? Don't wanna post stories just for myself.
Just realized I never responded to you. What state were you in? Many that times that's the determining factor in whether what you saw was a harmless squatch or something a bit more sinister.
Sorry, typing this as I go. Should have written it out.
So anyway, we had been going to this scout camp for as long as I had been involved with the troop. Every Summer (usually in June or July) we'd make our week trip down there and head home. Dylan and I knew what the camp was supposed to feel like and sound like, as did C and D (who had been going there for 20 odd ears or so.) This year, we immediately knew something was off. Have you ever walked into a place and just felt, like, bad vibes? Like, bad energy just kind of taking up residence somewhere? It was kind of like that the moment we drove thorugh the gates. The younger boys seemed pretty oblivious, but I know Dylan felt like I did. And D. Man, I don't think I've ever seen D as tense as he was that whole week. He was normally pretty chillax if a little strict, but he was on edge the moment we arrived on the grounds until we left on Saturday. I suppose the best way to do this from here on ut is give a chronological account of events that happened day to day over the week. That's the only way I can think to do this without losing myself and you guys.
The first thing you do when arriving at camp is drive to the registration office to confirm campsites, number of boys/leaders/etc. We did this, but D was gone for a very long time. When he came back, he was being escorted by the camp ranger. As D was hopping back into the sedan, I remember hearing the ranger say something like "Just let me know ASAP if anything happens". While this isn't an odd thing to say or hear, I now wonder if it held a deeper meaning.
Our campsite was toward the Northeast end of camp, down in a tiny valley surrounded by rock outcroppings on the North and South. The Northern outcroppings were split from East to West, and created what we called the "storm shelter"; basically this little crevice we'd hide in if severe weather ever srpang up. I was assigned to check up on it, make sure it was clear of debris and shit before the week started.
So I walk around to the shelter, and I am slammed with this awful smell. I knew it was something dead, and it smelled big. Once got down into the crevice, I saw that it wasn't something big, but a bunch of smaller animals in piles: birds, foxes, raccoons, parts of a deer. There was a TON of dead, mutilated bodies back there. I nearly pked it smelled so bad. THe heat didn't help either. Alarm bells weren't really ringing yet, but I was definitely weirded out. I told D about it, and he siad e'd have a look and clean up and that I should just forget about it. Pic related; similar lookig to the storm shelter.
Our camp site was basically set up as one giant semi circle: our tents formed a ring that almost enclosed pavilions in the center. Very little time was actually spent at our campsite, as we were all out working on merit badges, at the mess hall/cantina/shooting range/lake/etc. There was no reason for any boy to be in camp, and it was rare to find one who wanted to stay in camp. Dylan and I stuck together most evenings, and Monday night we decided to shoot (or rather, Dylan decided to shoot; I was terrible shot, and didn't want to pay for ammo I'd end up wasting). We were about halfway to the range when he relaized he'd forgotten his money, se we turned around and headed back towards camp. When we got there, it was empty as expected, but we noticed one of the tent flaps had been left opened (big probelm there; D was constantly on us to keep our flaps shut, so as to keep any curious woodland animals/insects out of our tents). So I walked over there to zip it up when I realized that it was still zipped, and that the door had simply been ripped open. The tent had been ransacked. Sleeping bags were shredded, trunks flipped over and the supplies gone through, it was an utter wreck. I called Dylan over, and our conversation went sometig like
>Shit man. Holy Hell. Who would do this?
>I dunno man. It wasn't one of our boys; D would make sure he'd never see the light of day again. Should we tell him?
>Do you wanna have your head bit off? Let's let him find it for himself.
That was a stupid decision in hindsight. We should have found D and alerted him immeditely. But since we didn't wanna suffer his wrath, we didn't. When we got back to camp that night, everyone was on edge. All the yunger boys were freaking out, whispering about bigfoot, etc. D told us that the rest of the week, we all had to be back in camp before sundown. (Which I thought was kind of pointless. The tent had been ransacked during the day, but whatever). Pic related; similar to campsite
Sure thing bruh. Glad someone is lurking.
Tuesday was actually pretty uneventful. All I recall is that sme boys a couple campsites over from ours got spooked because they heard noises in and around their campsite that night. If I'm being honest, that could have been anything. There's an awful lot of animal life out in rural Oklahoma, and it's not unusual for new/amatuer scouts to accidentally lure raccoons/foxes/occassioanlly bigger things into camp by leaving food out at night. But I still have to wonder if it was related to my other experiences that week.
Wednesday was different. The bad vibes seemed to be getting stronger. Or maybe that was just me getting more wound up. I dunno. What I do know is that the mess hall had been broken into the night before, and utterly wrecked. Food had been half eaten, supplies were strewn everywhere. At least, that's what I heard. We weren't allowed up the mess hall until dinner that night, by which time the camp had cleaned everything up. Of course, everyone was on edge now. There were mutterings and whisperings, rumors circulating that basically would have been an /x/ wet dream.
>Did you hear? They found some homeless guy camping out on the other side of the lake.
>Tom found some really weird footprints outside his tent last night. Did you see them?
>I heard some weird mating call last night, did anyone else?
>Could have sworn I was being stalked while walking back to camp last night. Anyone else feel the same way?
Out of all of these rumors, there was one that stuck out to me after the week was over, and the only reason it did is because it reminded me of my experience on Sunday.
>I found a dead raccoon outside my tent last night. It was, like, mutilated and shit. Which one of you fuckers thought that would be funny?
I guess outside of the mess hall business, Wednesday was pretty uneventful too, just really tense.
Glad to see this much interest. Thought I'd get BTFOed for RPing or something.
Holy shit man. Thursday. Thursday night, the camp would always sort of hold this party thing out by the main gate to sort of celebrate the hard work evetyone had put in over the week. There would a bonfire, a chuckwagon (basically the canteen on wheels), stories and songs, lots of boy scout stuff, you know? Anyways, D was super agaisnt letting anyone in the troop go. He wanted to keep every boy in camp that night. But after listening to 12 and 13 year olds whine and cry for 30 minutes, he kind of begrudgingly changed his mind and allowed them to go as long as they were escorted by the older boys. So Buck, Dylan and I were pretty much responsible for coralling 15 middle schoolers. D said he had a meeting to go to (which I knew was a lie. Scoutmaster meetings were always held in the mornings, never at night. But what the hell). So the three of us start walking them down there, whenI realize that we've left the flahslights back at camp and we only have about 5 minutes of light left. I tell Dylan and Buck to go on ahead of me, but both insist on coming. In the end, Buck escorted the kids to the bonfire whuile Dylan and I went back to camp.
That was a mistake for multiple reasons. We had only been gone about 10 minutes (which means it was almost dark once we got back), but our camp was totalled. Our pavillions had been torn down, tents and their contents wehere strewn about everwhere, food was out and scattered, it was a complete mess. Alarm bells were basically screaming "CODE RED CODE RED GTFO RIGHT NOW" but Dylan was already into the camp before I coulkd stop him. That's when the smell hit us. That smell of dead, decaying stuff, but this time it was mixed with something else. Kind of like spoiled milk? I'm not entirely sure how to describe it. Not the burnt copper/blood scent /x/ says is related to goatmen, I know what that smells like. This was something else.
Dylan and I both agreed that we needed to find D ASAP. Fate was on our side that night, because not a second later he rushed into camp in full commando mode. I'm talking giant knife on his hip, brandishing a pistol (sorry, I don't know anything about guns) and the biggest flshlight I've ever seen. Dylan and I immeditatley start blubbering to D about what was going on begging for answers and almost crying. He told us both to shut up and the arsest, but quietest voice I've ever heard. That's when I noticed his face for the first time. He had a gash down the right side of his forehead that was bleeding pretty profusely, and a massive bruise beginning to envelop the left side of his face. It looked like he had picked a fight with a titanium beam and lost. Let me juist remind you that D is about 6' 7" and around 260lbs. of pure muscle. Whatever bested him was fucking strong.
D beckoned us over to him an the conversation was something like
>Where the hell are the kids?
>The bonfire, sir.
>What the fuck are you two doing back here?
>We forgot the flashlights, sir.
>Alright... Alright. Here's what's gonna happan. Dylan, I'm gonna give you this knife, okay? Anon, you go get those flashlight you were talking about and point them towards the storm shelter. I'm going over there. If anything but me comes out, you two run like hell, do you understand?
We nodded, and off he went. He rounded the corner into the shelter, and that's about when we heard the noise. Have you ever heard someone trying to talk while choking on their own blood or something like that? That sort of gurgling, gasping noise? That's what it sounded like, mixed with a sort of low growling. Dylan and I stood there frozen for what felt like hours, but was robably more like 5 minutes when that noise abruptly ceased and D returned pale as s sheet but in one peice.
>Alright you two. Let's head to that bonfire.
So D escorted us there, and refused to answer any of our questions or give us any sort of closure as to what had just happened. All he said was
>I don't think we'll have to worry about anything for the rest of the week.
So we went to the bonfire, but Dylan and I kept to ourselves and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. When we got back to camp, we did our best repair as much as we could in the dark. Dylan and I didn't sleep at all that night; we were wide awake. At what must have been about midnight, I heard a few noises outside and saw a flashlight beam waving aroumd before finally coming to stillmpoition, pointed towards the storm shelter. I poked my head out of my tent, and observed D sitting a chiar, flaslight pointed at the storm shelter, watching and waiting. I watched D all night, and Friday I finally got some answers.
If you stopped to think before you posted that, you'd realize that's a completely irrational question to ask
Someone might have the thread open while they're away at work, or they might find it later, in 24 hours, if it's still up. Just post your story instead of shitposting for attention, fag.
By Friday, I mean about 6:30 that morning. Around then C came out of is tent and proceeded to have a ot exactly quiet conversation with D. Now bear with me, as I'm reconstructing this from memory, so some bits might not be entirely accurate.
>No. I've been out here all night. Nothing since I saw it earlier.
>I still think you're wrong. They never come this far South, especially this time of year. Mus have been something else.
>I know what I saw, dad. I'm telling you, their getting bolder.
>...Or more desperate.
>Or more desperate.
>Well, I'm heading to the mess hall. Need my coffee. Want anything?
And they proceeded to talk about Breakfast for awhile and C eventually left. I figured if I wanted any sort of closure as to last night, now was my only chance to talk to D alone. So I approached D, but before I could say anything he turns around a gave me a look that could have curdled new milk. I stopped in my tracks, and he says
So I sat next to him, and this all I got out of him.
>You were pretty bave last night, kid. Incredibly stupid, but brave.
>What did you see?
He was quiet for a good five minutes, and I finally mustered up the courage to ask him what the hell was going on.
>Pardon me sir, but... What was it? What's going on?
>How old are you, Anon?
>...Anon, the world is a far darker place than you realize right now. You're too young. Let me give a peice of advice that you need to keep in your head during times just like this. Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to. Or that you already know the answer to.
>Do I know the answer to this question, sir?
>...It wasn't natural, was it sir?
>Depends on your definition of natural, Anon. To me, the thing that's terrorized us all week is as natural as any other creature in these woods and on this Earth. Simply a darker side of nature, one that usually stays away from heavily trafficked areas like this
>They don't like people in large groups.
>Then what's it doing here, sir?
>...Honestly, Anon, I don't know. I think it got confused. Lost, even.
>Is it gone, Sir?
>For now, yes. I don't think it will come back while we're here.
Dylan woke up about then, as did the rest of the camp, so our conversation was cut short.
The rest of Friday was pretty uneventful. Dylan, Buck and I palled around camp for awhile, talking about what we thought it was. Or rather, Buck and I did. Dylan didn't really talk about it, and acted increasingly irritated as the day went on. Friday night, all was well. I slept heavily. Had bad dreams, but I slept.
We were up about 6:30 that morning to tear down camp. I was ready to go, and even though D was reassuring Friday mornig, I could tell he was eager to leave to. He was tense, and would often stop to look towards the storm shelter. About 11:30, D asked me to heck the shelter area and "clean it up" with him (even though no one had actually used it at all that week).
We got back there, and it was completely different than what I'd seen Sunday. It been cleaned, spotlessly so. And something similar to pic related had been marked on each side of the canyon walls. I assume it's Native, but I don't know what it means and have never particularly cared to find out.
We left about noon, and I've never gone back. So that's my big story, the one I can't really explain. I know D knew way more than he was letting on. I think Buck knew more than I did too, but he clammed up whenever I tried to talk to him about it. So /x/, what do you think? What was it? I think it was Native American, to say the least. But I don't know what.
I have a couple more if anyone is interested, and can answer questions too. I'll be here for awhile yet.
Speculative, I'm afraid. That's part of the reason I'm posting to /x/. Any /x/philes have any idea as to what this thing could have been?
you really never looked into it? that would bother the shit out of me.... i know some tribes recognize ape men (bigfoot), and some tribes recognize reanimated corpses, but i'm very far from an expert. just offhand knowledge.
Thanks for the story anon, made my afternoon a bit more bearable thinking about it
Not the symbol, no. But this experience is what eetually led me to /x/. I tried to talking to D and even C at one point, but neither of them would talk. And there wasn't really anyone else knowledgable in m small social circles, so I was kinda bum out of luck. I mean, I developed theories based on what little I knew of Native American lore, but those were probably way off base.
Just realized he never responded
Shasta is in California, if it's the shasta I'm thinking of and there's a lot of myths about it, I think some stuff about giants, aliens and ancients... Some cults have beliefs rooted there
Posting boyfriends story, not mine,
(I didnt even hear the story from my bf because he's too uncomfortable about the topic)
To give you some context on Blake (bf) hes an eagle scout and an instructor at the camp during the summer. He works with a lot of other people and stuff, thus meeting a lot of different people. Anyways, into the story.
>Deep into the night entire camp is asleep
>blake is awoken by fast and low chatter in his cabin
>"blake, thank god you're awake-we have a serious problem"
>proceed to explain that some other instructor volunteer guy flipped the fuck out in the other cabin
>and everyone refuses to go in there
>"something about weird shit in there"
>blake wakes up and gets two other instructors to go with him inside the neighboring cabin
>gotta go sneaky beaky so we dont wake up the chillren
>go outside and see that its obvious which cabin it is
>all the instructors are standing around waiting for someone to go in there
>its about 4-5am
>blake questions wtf has happened
>gather that the instructor freaked out then just went off somewhere
>tells everyone to calm down and go back to sleep
>no one can sleep so they stay there waiting for blake to finally go in
>blake knocks on the door to see if anyone is in there
>opens door and is greeted with a bloody smell mixed with burnt wax
>almost throws up
>fucking pentagram on the wall made with fucking blood
>Blake and friends cleaned it up, and went back to bed
>they wake up next morning and go to breakfast while talking about what happened last night
>they get inside the cafeteria
>and this motherfucker is seating there eating goddamn oatmeal like nothing happened
>everyone else is staring
>blake goes over and tells him hes gotta go
>instructor doesn't refuse or fight, just leaves
>thats the last of that guy blake has heard