Bigfoot Is Living On Our Property… And It’s Getting Worse – BIGFOOT SIGHTINGS STORY

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

I’m writing this because nobody believes us anymore. The sheriff thinks we’re crazy. Our neighbors avoid us. Even our own kids won’t return our calls. But I need to get this down on paper before something worse happens. Before it’s too late.

My name is Daryl, and my wife Jess and I have been farming the same 240 acres in rural Oregon for 37 years. We raise cattle, grow hay, and keep to ourselves. We’ve seen our share of wildlife over the decades—deer, elk, the occasional black bear, even a cougar once. But what’s been happening on our property for the past eight months isn’t normal. It isn’t natural and is getting worse every single day.

Chapter 2: A Strange Occurrence

It all started small. Last October, Jess noticed something was wrong with our chickens. We keep about 40 hens in a coop behind the barn, and they’d been laying just fine all summer. Then suddenly, we were getting maybe six eggs a day instead of the usual 25 or 30. The birds seemed spooked, huddling together in one corner of the coop during the day instead of roaming their run.

At first, I figured it was just a fox or raccoon getting into the feed. I reinforced the fence, added some wire mesh over the top, and set up a motion-activated light. For a few weeks, things seemed to improve. The hens started laying again, and we thought we’d solved the problem.

Chapter 3: The Great Chicken Heist

Then one morning in early November, Jess went out to collect eggs and found the coop door ripped clean off its hinges. Not broken—ripped. The hinges were still bolted to the frame, but the entire wooden door was lying in the dirt 15 feet away. The chickens were gone—all 40 of them. I examined the scene and couldn’t make sense of it. There were no feathers scattered around like you’d see with a fox attack. No blood, no tracks that I could identify, though the ground was pretty torn up. Whatever had taken our chickens had simply opened the coop like it was a can of beans and cleared them out.

The strangest part was the smell. Even three days later, there was this musky, sour odor hanging around the coop. It reminded me of wet dog mixed with something else I couldn’t place—something wild and rank that made my stomach turn.

Chapter 4: The Cattle’s Disturbance

A week after we lost the chickens, our neighbor’s cattle started acting strange. Bob Martinez owns the ranch next to ours, and his cows had always been calm, docile animals. Suddenly, they were bunching up against the fence line furthest from our property, refusing to graze in the pasture that bordered our land. Bob came by to ask if we’d seen anything unusual. I told him about the chickens, and he got this look on his face like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Finally, he mentioned that his border collie had been barking all night for the past week, always facing our direction.

That afternoon, I decided to walk the fence line between our properties. The ground was still soft from recent rain, and about halfway along the border, I found them—footprints, but not like any I’d ever seen. They were enormous, at least 18 inches long and about 8 inches wide, deeper than a human footprint would be, pressed down into the mud like whatever made them weighed far more than a person. The stride length was incredible—maybe four or five feet between prints. I followed the trail for about 100 yards before it disappeared into the thick timber on the back of our property.

Chapter 5: The First Encounter

I took pictures with my phone, though they didn’t turn out very clear. When I showed them to Bob, he went pale. He’d found similar tracks on his land the day before but hadn’t wanted to mention it. We both agreed to keep an eye out and let each other know if we saw anything else.

The sound started a few nights later. Jess woke me up around 2:00 in the morning, shaking my shoulder. “Something’s outside.” I listened and heard it—a low rumbling noise coming from somewhere near the barn. It wasn’t quite howling, wasn’t quite growling, more like a cross between the two but deeper than anything I’d heard from a wild animal. It went on for maybe 30 seconds, then stopped.

We have a shotgun in the bedroom closet, and I grabbed it before going to the window. Our farm sits in a valley with hills rising on three sides, and the moon was bright enough that I could see pretty clearly across our pastures. Nothing moved. The cattle were all bunched up at the far end of their field, as far from the barn as they could get. The sound came again, and this time, I could tell it was definitely coming from behind the barn.

Chapter 6: The Unseen Terror

I considered going outside to investigate, but something about that noise made my skin crawl. It was too intelligent, too purposeful, like whatever was making it was trying to communicate something. Jess suggested we call the sheriff, but what would we say? That we heard a scary noise? I decided to wait until morning and take another look around.

In the daylight, I found more evidence. The big sliding door on the barn had scratches in the wood—deep gouges that looked like claw marks. They were too high up to be from any normal animal, starting about 7 feet off the ground and running down to shoulder height. Whatever had made them was tall enough to reach the top of that door while standing on the ground. Inside the barn, several hay bales had been moved. We stacked them in neat rows, but three bales from the back row were sitting in the middle of the floor. Each bale weighs about 50 pounds, and they’d been tossed around like they were nothing.

Chapter 7: The Watchful Eyes

Two weeks later, I saw it. I was checking on our cattle early one morning when something caught my eye at the edge of the tree line—maybe 200 yards away. At first, I thought it was a person, someone standing perfectly still among the pines. But as I watched, I realized whoever it was had to be enormous. The trees in that section are old growth, some of them 40 or 50 feet tall, and this figure came up to the lower branches.

I grabbed my binoculars from the truck and focused on the spot. What I saw made my blood run cold. It wasn’t a person at all. The thing was covered in dark brown hair from head to foot, with arms that hung down past its knees. Its shoulders were massively broad, and its head seemed to sit directly on its torso without much of a neck. It was just standing there, motionless, watching me. We stared at each other for what felt like five minutes, but was probably only 30 seconds. Then, without any sudden movement, it simply stepped backward into the trees and vanished.

Chapter 8: The Aftermath

I drove over to that section of woods as fast as our old Ford could carry me. But by the time I reached the tree line, there was nothing to see—just the lingering smell of that same musky odor I’d noticed around the chicken coop. When I told Jess what I’d seen, she didn’t say I was imagining things. She just nodded and told me she’d been feeling like something was watching her when she hung laundry on the line. The clothesline sits between our house and the barn with a clear view to those same woods where I’d spotted the creature.

December brought our first real snow, and with it undeniable proof that we weren’t dealing with a normal animal. The creature, I’d started thinking of it as Bigfoot, though I’d never believed in such things before, left tracks everywhere. In the fresh powder, the prints were clear and detailed. You could see the outline of toes, the arch of the foot, even what looked like hair impressions around the edges. The tracks crisscrossed our entire property. They led from the woods to the barn, around our house, past the chicken coop, and back into the timber.

Chapter 9: The Close Call

Some mornings, there would be dozens of prints, like the thing had spent hours wandering around our farm in the dark. But the tracks weren’t the worst part. The worst part was how close to the house they came. One morning, I found prints right outside our bedroom window. They were so close to the foundation that whatever made them would have been able to look directly through the glass if it had wanted to. The thought of that thing standing there while we slept, watching us, made me sick to my stomach.

I installed motion sensor lights around the house and barn. The first night, they triggered 17 times between midnight and dawn. I’d look out the window each time the yard lit up, but I never saw anything—just the lights flashing on and off like a strobe illuminating empty snow.

Chapter 10: Desperation Sets In

By January, I knew we needed help. The situation was getting worse, not better. The creature was becoming bolder, and I was afraid it might try to break into the house. I called the county sheriff’s office and explained what was happening. The deputy who answered the phone was polite but clearly skeptical. He said they’d send someone out to take a look, but it was three days before anyone showed up.

The officer who finally came was young, maybe mid-20s, and he had that attitude that said he was humoring the crazy old farmer. I showed him the tracks in the snow, the scratches on the barn door, the bent fence posts where something heavy had leaned against them. He took a few pictures and wrote some notes, but I could tell he wasn’t taking it seriously. When I mentioned seeing the actual creature, he just nodded and said they’d keep the report on file. “We get a lot of calls about bears this time of year,” he said. “They can leave pretty big tracks, especially in soft snow.”

Chapter 11: Living in Fear

I tried to explain that these weren’t bear tracks, that no bear stood 8 feet tall and walked upright, but he was already heading back to his patrol car, probably thinking about the story he’d tell the other deputies back at the station. We never heard from them again. The snow melted in late January, and February brought a new level of activity. The creature wasn’t just passing through our property anymore; it was living here.

We’d find evidence of its presence every single day. Our garbage cans, which we kept in a wooden enclosure near the house, were regularly torn apart. Not just knocked over, but completely destroyed. The metal cans were bent and twisted into shapes that would have taken incredible strength to achieve. The creature seemed particularly interested in any food scraps, but it also scattered everything else across our yard—papers, bottles, anything that had been in those cans.

Chapter 12: The Barn Break-In

I started putting the garbage inside the barn, thinking that might solve the problem. The next morning, I found that the barn sliding door had been forced open. The lock was broken, and the door itself was bent on its track. Inside, the garbage was scattered just like before. But now, the creature had also knocked over several shelves and torn open feed sacks. The smell was everywhere— that same musky, wild odor that seemed to follow wherever the thing went. It was strongest in the barn, like the creature had spent considerable time in there. I found what looked like a nest in one of the empty stalls made from hay and old burlap sacks.

Up until March, most of the encounters had been mine. Jess had heard the sounds and seen the tracks, but she hadn’t come face to face with the creature. That changed on a Tuesday morning when she went out to feed our remaining animals. We’d bought six new chickens to replace the ones we’d lost, and we were keeping them in a smaller reinforced coop closer to the house.

Chapter 13: The Face-to-Face Encounter

Jess went out around 7 in the morning with their feed, same as she’d done thousands of times before. When she came back inside, she was white as a sheet and shaking all over. It took me 10 minutes to get the story out of her. She’d been filling the water containers when she heard something behind her. When she turned around, the creature was standing not 20 feet away, just watching her. She described it as enormous, easily 8 feet tall, covered in dark hair that looked almost black in the morning light. Its face was like a cross between human and ape, with intelligent eyes that seemed to look right through her.

They stared at each other for what she said felt like forever. Then the creature made a sound—not the howling we’d heard at night, but something almost like words. Gibberish, but with the rhythm and tone of speech, like it was trying to communicate with her. Finally, it turned and walked away. Not hurrying, not skulking, just walking upright on two legs like a person would, except twice as big as any person had a right to be.

Chapter 14: Escalation of Behavior

Jess didn’t go outside alone after that. March brought warmer weather and an escalation in the creature’s behavior. It was no longer content to just wander around our property and go through our garbage. Now it was actively destroying things. Our fence posts started showing up snapped in half, always the ones along the back property line near the woods. These weren’t old rotted posts. They were pressure-treated 6x6s that I’d installed myself just five years earlier. Breaking them would have required enormous strength or the right tools.

And I knew it wasn’t vandals because we would have heard a vehicle coming up our long gravel driveway. The creature also developed an interest in our equipment. One morning, I found our riding mower flipped upside down in the middle of the yard. The thing weighs over 400 pounds, and there was no mechanical way it could have ended up in that position by accident. The next week, our utility trailer was found 100 yards from where I’d parked it with two of its tires completely shredded.

Chapter 15: The Destruction Continues

I started putting everything mechanical inside the barn at night, but that just meant the creature found new things to destroy. It pulled down sections of our split rail fencing, scattered firewood we’d spent days stacking, and somehow managed to tear the metal roof off our small equipment shed. Each incident left behind more of that terrible smell and usually some new footprints to document what had happened. I must have taken 200 pictures by this point, but they never seemed to capture how truly massive those prints were.

April brought the most terrifying incident yet. I woke up around 3:00 in the morning to find our dog, a German Shepherd named Rex, cowering under our bed and whimpering. Rex had always been fearless. He’d chased off bears before without hesitation. But now he was shaking like a leaf and wouldn’t come out no matter how much I coaxed him.

Chapter 16: The Midnight Terror

I grabbed my shotgun and went to the living room window that faces our front yard. In the moonlight, I could see a massive dark shape moving around near our vehicles. The creature was examining my pickup truck, running its hands along the sides like it was trying to figure out what it was. As I watched, it grabbed the truck’s side mirror and twisted it completely around. Then it moved to the front and placed both hands on the hood. I could see the vehicle’s suspension compress under its weight as it leaned forward to peer through the windshield.

The whole time, I stood frozen at the window. Part of me wanted to fire a warning shot, but another part was terrified of what might happen if I provoked it. The creature was less than 50 feet from our house, and if it decided to come after us, I wasn’t sure our doors and windows would stop it. After what felt like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, the creature lost interest in the truck and wandered toward the barn.

Chapter 17: The Handprint

I watched until it disappeared into the shadows, then spent the rest of the night sitting in my recliner with the shotgun across my lap, waiting for dawn. In the morning, I found handprints on the truck’s hood—clear impressions in the dust that were easily twice the size of my own hands. The side mirror was indeed twisted around backward, and there were new scratches in the paint where the creature had touched the vehicle.

By May, I was desperate enough to try the authorities one more time. I called the state police instead of the county sheriff, thinking they might take us more seriously. I explained the entire situation to a sergeant who listened politely and said they’d send someone out to investigate. The trooper who arrived was older and more professional than the deputy we’d dealt with before. He walked around our property, examined the damage, and looked at the pictures I’d taken of the tracks. For a moment, I thought we might finally get some real help.

Chapter 18: Skepticism from Authorities

But when I mentioned Bigfoot, his whole demeanor changed. He got that same look the first deputy had—the look that said he was dealing with a couple of delusional country folks who’d been living in isolation too long. “We’ll increase our patrols in this area,” he said. But I could tell he was just trying to get off our property as quickly as possible. He drove away, and I knew we were on our own.

The creature’s behavior changed again in June. Instead of just showing up at night, it started appearing during the day. Jess was hanging laundry on the line one afternoon when she noticed something moving in the tree line. She thought it might be a deer at first, but as she watched, a massive figure stepped out of the woods and into our back pasture. It stood there for several minutes, making no attempt to hide itself.

Chapter 19: The Curious Giant

In the bright sunlight, Jess could see details that had been hidden during previous encounters. The creature’s hair was actually dark brown with patches of gray, especially around its shoulders and arms. Its face was more humanlike than ape-like, with a prominent brow ridge and deep-set eyes that seemed to show intelligence. Most unsettling of all, it was watching her with what seemed like curiosity rather than aggression. It tilted its head from side to side like it was studying her, trying to understand what she was doing with the wet clothes and the rope line.

Jess finished hanging the laundry as quickly as she could, never taking her eyes off the creature. When she was done, she walked slowly back toward the house, expecting it to disappear into the woods like it always did. Instead, it followed her—not aggressively, but deliberately. It stayed about 50 yards behind her, walking upright across our pasture like it owned the place.

Chapter 20: The Footprint Revelation

When Jess reached the house and looked back, the creature was standing at the edge of our yard, closer to our home than it had ever been during daylight hours. She called for me, and I came running with a shotgun. By the time I reached the window, the creature was gone. But in the soft earth near where it had been standing, we found the clearest footprint yet—every toe clearly defined, the ball and heel of the foot pressed deep into the soil.

By July, the creature had become openly hostile toward anything mechanical on our property. It seemed to have developed a particular hatred for engines and motors, destroying anything that made noise or moved. Our riding mower was found one morning completely dismantled—not just broken, dismantled. The engine had been torn apart piece by piece, with parts scattered across 50 yards of pasture.

Chapter 21: The Dismantling of Our Lives

The same week, our generator was destroyed. We keep it in a locked shed behind the house for emergencies, but the creature had torn the door off its hinges and reduced the generator to junk. Oil and coolant were splattered everywhere, and the engine block itself was cracked in half. I bought new locks for all our outbuildings—heavy-duty deadbolts that I thought might slow the thing down. Two days later, every lock was ripped off along with chunks of the door frames. The creature wasn’t picking locks or finding keys. It was simply overpowering anything we put in its way.

Our property includes a small hunting cabin about half a mile back in the woods. I’d built it myself 15 years earlier as a place to get away and think, and we’d used it for family gatherings when the kids were younger. I hadn’t been back there since the creature showed up. But in early August, curiosity got the better of me. I loaded my shotgun and hiked back through the timber, following the old trail I’d cut years before.

Chapter 22: The Cabin of Horrors

The closer I got to the cabin, the stronger that musky smell became. By the time I could see the building through the trees, the odor was almost overwhelming. The cabin was destroyed—not damaged—destroyed. The walls had been pushed inward, the roof was collapsed, and debris was scattered everywhere. It looked like a tornado had hit it, except tornadoes don’t usually leave 18-inch footprints all around the wreckage.

Inside what was left of the structure, I found evidence that the creature had been living there. There was a crude bed made from pine boughs and strips of fabric that looked like they’d been torn from old clothes, food scraps scattered around, bones from animals it had caught, fruit peels, even some aluminum cans that must have come from our garbage. But the most disturbing discovery was the collection of items it had apparently taken from our property over the months—tools from our barn, clothes from our laundry line, even some kitchen utensils that Jess had been missing. They were arranged almost like decorations around the makeshift shelter, as if the creature was trying to make the space more familiar or comfortable.

Chapter 23: The Boldness Escalates

I didn’t stay long. The smell was making me nauseous, and I had the overwhelming feeling that I was trespassing in something’s home. Even though it was my own property, I felt like an intruder. The creature’s boldness reached a new level in August. It began approaching our house regularly, sometimes in broad daylight. We’d see it walking across our yard like it belonged there, examining our vehicles, peering into windows, and leaving those massive footprints everywhere.

One afternoon, while Jess was inside making lunch, the creature walked right up to our kitchen window and looked in. She was standing at the sink washing dishes when she sensed something behind her. When she turned around, there it was—its face filling the entire window, those dark eyes staring directly at her from just inches away. Jess screamed and dropped the plate she was holding. The creature didn’t react to the noise or the movement. It just continued watching her with what she described as intense curiosity.

Chapter 24: The Fear Takes Hold

After maybe 10 seconds, it moved away from the window and walked toward the barn like nothing had happened. I was in town getting supplies when this occurred, and by the time I got home, Jess was in a state of near panic. She’d locked all the doors and windows and was sitting in our bedroom with my pistol in her lap. It took me an hour to calm her down enough to get the full story. That night, I nailed plywood over the kitchen window and started keeping the shotgun within reach at all times. We were no longer just dealing with a nuisance; we were living in fear.

September marked a turning point. The creature’s behavior shifted from curious to threatening. Instead of just watching us and going through our belongings, it started actively intimidating us. One evening, as I was bringing our remaining cattle in from the pasture, the creature emerged from the woods and began walking toward us—not casually this time, purposefully, like it was trying to make a point. The cattle saw it coming and panicked, stampeding toward the barn and nearly trampling me in the process.

Chapter 25: The Display of Power

I raised my shotgun and fired a warning shot into the air. The creature stopped walking but didn’t retreat. It stood there in our pasture, maybe a hundred yards away, and let out a roar that I felt in my chest. The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard—part growl, part scream, and completely terrifying. Then it charged—not at me directly, but toward our fence line. It grabbed the top rail of our wooden fence and ripped out an entire section, throwing the post aside like they were twigs.

The whole time, it kept looking at me, making sure I was watching its display of strength. After destroying about 20 feet of fencing, the creature turned and walked back into the woods. The message was clear: it could destroy our property whenever it wanted, and there wasn’t much we could do to stop it.

Chapter 26: The Nightmare Continues

By October, exactly one year after the first chicken incident, our lives had become a nightmare. We were prisoners on our own property, afraid to go outside after dark and constantly watching for signs of the creature during the day. The thing had established what seemed like a regular routine. It would emerge from the woods every few days, always at dusk or in the early morning hours. Sometimes it would just walk through our yard and disappear again. Other times it would spend hours exploring our property, touching our vehicles, examining our buildings, and leaving its massive footprints everywhere.

We’d started sleeping in shifts, one of us always awake to watch for movement outside. Our dog, Rex, had become completely useless. He’d hide under the bed the moment the sun went down and wouldn’t come out until morning. Even our cattle had given up grazing in the back pastures, staying close to the barn where they felt safer. I considered selling the farm and moving somewhere else. But who would buy a property with a Bigfoot problem? And even if we found a buyer, what if the creature followed us? We felt trapped with no good options.

Chapter 27: The Breaking Point

Three weeks ago, the situation reached a breaking point. I was in the barn doing evening chores when I heard Jess screaming from the house. I dropped everything and ran toward her voice, carrying my shotgun. When I burst through the front door, I found Jess backed into a corner of the living room, pointing toward the sliding glass door that leads to our back deck. There, pressed against the glass, were two massive hands. The creature was standing on our deck, trying to look inside our house. I could see its shape through the glass—enormous shoulders, a head that barely fit in the door frame, arms that seemed impossibly long.

It was moving along the glass, pressing its face against different sections like it was searching for the best view inside. I raised the shotgun and aimed it at the door. The creature must have seen the movement because it stepped back and looked directly at me. For a moment that lasted forever, we stared at each other through the glass. Then slowly and deliberately, it raised one massive fist and slammed it against the door. The entire house shook. The glass didn’t break, but spiderweb cracks appeared across the entire surface.

Chapter 28: The Final Confrontation

The creature hit the door again, and more cracks spread. I knew that on the third blow, the glass would shatter, and there would be nothing between us and that thing. I fired the shotgun into the air, hoping the noise would scare it away. Instead, the creature roared back—that same chest-deep sound that seemed to come from somewhere ancient and wild. It hit the door one more time, and chunks of glass fell onto our deck. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the creature turned and walked away—not running, not skulking, walking. Like it had made its point and was satisfied.

That was three weeks ago, and things have only gotten worse since then. The creature now shows up almost every night. We can hear it moving around outside, testing our doors and windows, walking on our roof, making those horrible sounds that keep us awake until dawn. Last week, it somehow got into our attic. We found footprints in the dust up there along with more of that terrible smell. It had moved around our Christmas decorations and family photos, but it hadn’t damaged anything. It was like it was trying to understand who we were, studying our belongings to learn about us.

Chapter 29: The Uninvited Guest

Two nights ago, we woke up to find our front door standing wide open. Neither of us had unlocked it, and there was no sign it had been forced. The creature had somehow opened a deadbolted door without damaging the lock or the frame. It had been inside our house while we slept. Nothing was missing or destroyed, but everything felt violated. Our home, the one place we’d felt safe, was no longer secure. The creature could come and go as it pleased, and we were powerless to stop it.

Yesterday, I found something that made me decide to write this all down. In our mailbox, which sits at the end of our quarter-mile driveway, there was a piece of tree bark with scratches carved into it. The marks weren’t random. They formed a pattern almost like crude writing or symbols. I don’t know what the marks mean, but their presence in our mailbox suggests the creature is trying to communicate with us. It’s learning about our routines, our property, our lives. And that intelligence, combined with its incredible strength and complete fearlessness, makes it more dangerous than any wild animal.

Chapter 30: The Final Warning

I’m 59 years old, and I’ve lived on this land for most of my adult life. I’ve dealt with droughts, floods, market crashes, and every kind of agricultural challenge you can imagine. But I’ve never faced anything like this. This thing, whatever it is, isn’t just an animal. It’s something else entirely. The authorities won’t help us. Our neighbors think we’re crazy. Our own family has stopped taking our calls. We’re alone with this creature. And it’s getting bolder every day.

I’m writing this story because I need people to know what’s happening here. If something happens to Jess and me, if we disappear like that hiker in Alaska or end up dead in our own home, I want there to be a record. I want people to understand that we weren’t crazy or paranoid or suffering from some kind of shared delusion. There’s something living in the woods behind our house—something that shouldn’t exist but does. It’s been watching us, learning about us, and slowly taking over our lives. And I have the terrible feeling that we haven’t seen the worst of it yet.

Chapter 31: The Ominous Gift

This morning, I found fresh footprints leading right up to our front door. But these weren’t like the others. These prints showed the creature had been carrying something. The depth and spacing were different, like it was bearing extra weight. Sitting on our welcome mat was a dead rabbit placed there deliberately—not torn apart like a predator would leave it, but positioned carefully, almost like an offering or a gift. I don’t know what message the creature is trying to send, but the fact that it’s bringing us things suggests its behavior is evolving again. Yesterday, it was content to destroy our property and intimidate us. Today, it’s leaving presents.

I’m afraid to think about what tomorrow might bring. As I finish writing this, the sun is setting behind the hills and that familiar musky smell is starting to drift across our yard. Somewhere in the woods behind our house, something that shouldn’t exist is waking up for another night of watching, waiting, and slowly making our lives its own. If you’re reading this and you believe any part of it, please share our story. People need to know that there are things in the wilderness that science hasn’t cataloged yet—things that are intelligent, powerful, and completely unafraid of humans.

Chapter 32: The Final Plea

And if you live in a rural area, especially near heavy timber or mountains, pay attention to your animals. Listen for sounds that don’t belong. Look for tracks that are too big and too deep to be normal. Because once these things decide they’re interested in you, I don’t think they ever really go away.

The motion sensor light just triggered in our backyard. Through the window, I can see a massive shadow moving near our barn. It’s here again, and it’s getting closer to the house. I’m going to put this notebook somewhere safe—somewhere the creature won’t find it if something happens to us. Maybe someday someone will read this and understand what we went through. Maybe someday someone will believe us.