My name is Ted Neatherwood and I live in a darker world. The strange, the unseen, and the bizarre are everywhere here and weigh heavily on my mind. Join me and my. . .
Dark thoughts.

Not Like The Other Boys

The Southern United States is a unique place. It’s being dragged into the 21st Century kicking and screaming with a population rooted in the old ways. It’s not hard to see why. There are places here where a thin line separates civilization from the unknown and it’s often the width of a barbed-wire fence. Stories from the first peoples still echo down the centuries and people avoid some places because they’ve always been avoided. Occasionally a person will see the reason why. The South has its own Bigfoot.  We call him the Skunk Ape.

Low budget recreation of a Skunk Ape – Creator unknown

What’s in a Name

The name alone says something about the type of encounters we have. In the Pacific Northwest, Bigfoot is known for leaving mysterious footprints in the soft soil and vanishing without a trace. Here, he gets so close you can smell him. It’s not a pleasant smell. Something like rotting garbage. He’s also more violent than his northern cousin. Campsites destroyed, animals torn apart, and sometimes even the campers themselves grabbed and slung around like a rag doll. When you meet a Skunk Ape, you know it.

While the idea of physical attack is terrifying, it’s not typical. What is typical is the taunting.

Bully of the Woods

Imagine for a moment you’re in the woods, not far from a stream. It’s night. You’ve been out checking your trail cameras. You’ve been finding animal parts but no sign of the culprit. You hear the crickets and the normal sounds of the night. Between one step and the next, all falls silent. That’s when the first pebble hits you. It bounces off the side of your head. You look around in confusion. The second hits you, again, the side of your head. Maybe some of the local kids are out having a laugh.

“Who’s out there?” you shout angrily.

Then the rocks start coming from all sides. Some larger than pebbles. All coming for your head and chest. You cover your head and duck down trying to protect yourself. 


The rocks stop. Then you hear a loud chirping whistle. Something positively inhuman. Then the sound of something, SEVERAL somethings, in fact, moving through the woods. Large somethings moving slowly and deliberately back into the unknown blackness of untouched nature. You know it wasn’t the kids from town. No one else does though. And no one’s going to believe you.

Further Reading:

Join us each week for more of Ted’s dark thoughts about the mysterious and strange, exclusively here at Haunted MTL.

About the Author

Professional amateur questing into the unknown and the unknowable.

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