In an instant, she somehow knew that one of the little men had been caught in the trap and the telepathic link that her daughter shared with them was causing her to feel the pain. She dashed to the storage room and flung open the door. “There, to my everlasting astonishment,” she later stated, “was a smallish man dressed all in green doing his best to free another elfin creature from the metal bar of the trap that had slammed down across his foot. The injured elf, obviously in excruciating pain, was opening his mouth in a silent scream that was issuing in full volume from my daughter’s mouth.”
Summoning all her courage, she managed to get her fingers beneath the bar of the trap and lift it high enough for the little man to escape. Violet stopped screaming as both the creatures disappeared in a flash. Margie then heard a tiny, angry voice proclaim, “If it’s rats he wants, it’s rats he gets!”
No sooner had she gathered her wits about her when DeAnne came running down the hall shouting, “Rats, mommy! Rats everywhere!!” It was true. Dozens and dozens of rats had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and overrun the entire cabin. “We just salvaged what we could and got out of there as quickly as possible,” Margie said. She came away from the experience absolutely convinced that both she and her daughter had experienced direct contact with unexplained, supernatural entities.
In 1998, I learned of a woman from Glasgow, Kentucky, Barron County, who claimed to have observed a curious diminutive inhumanoid entity. I decided to contact this woman, a Ms. Sharon Joy Rogers, in hope of ascertaining her sincerity and gathering more information regarding her experience. I immediately acquired her phone number from information assistance and called her. I found Ms. Rogers to be a very pleasant, cordial woman. Her tone was one of casual sincerity and, during the course of the interview, I became convinced that she was an honest and intelligent individual who had, indeed, witnessed something remarkable outside her home; just as she claimed.
Yes, it was true, she told me. She had seen what could only be described as a little person, not three feet tall, wearing a tan and brown outfit, complete with a short cape and pointed hat, as it casually sauntered from around the corner of a neighboring house and disappeared behind a bush. It went behind the bush, she said, but never came out. She was quite certain that it was not just some child in a costume, but a fully grown, yet tiny, man. It looked to her, she informed me, just like an illustration of an elf in she had seen in a previous publication.
The sighting had taken place at dusk one evening of the preceding year. She had always been a nature lover, she claimed, but had never before seen anything of this nature. Unlike the vast majority of other eyewitnesses to the unexplained, this brave woman chose to come forward and share her story, regardless of any possible repercussions, in hopes that it might serve to benefit and inspire others just as it did herself.
We talked at length about a variety of subjects during which time I was able to gather the full details concerning the sighting incident and, as she thoughtfully answered each question I had for her, gain insight into her character and emotional state of mind.
The sighting took place in 1997, during the brief interim of twilight just between dusk and full darkness. In late Autumn of that year Ms. Rogers had been standing outside her home when she happened to glance across the street towards an old residence which had stood vacant for some time. Was she compelled by some force, like a sixth sense, to look in that direction at that exact moment? Did the magic of twilight somehow aid or enable her to see that which most of us normally cannot?
Regardless, she stood there and watched as this entity stepped out from around the corner of the old house. Even though the figure stood slightly less than three feet tall and could weigh no more than forty or fifty pounds, in her estimation, she could tell immediately that it was an adult human with normal proportions in accordance with its height. She was not frightened at all, she claimed, but rather surprised and amazed at the sight. She had seen pictures of elves and wood spirits before and this one seemed to fit that image perfectly.
The little fellow’s outfit allegedly looked as if it had been plucked straight out of the Middle Ages. Tight fitting hose or breeches adorned the lower half of the figure, with linen leggings’ that wound up to his knees. A thigh length shirt, or coat, covered his arms and torso, accentuated by a short cape which hung at waist level. Topping of the medieval ensemble was a small, pointed, or peaked, hat resting atop his head. Everything about him, right down to his shoulder length curly hair, she noted, was hued in the earthy colors of the season; browns and tans. She hadn’t noticed if the being had worn gloves of boots, and she did not see a pair of pointed ears sprouting from beneath the little cap.
It was a wonder she had noticed any particulars at all, she told me, as she was so surprised at what she was seeing. She rubbed her eyes for a second and blinked but the man was still there. As the elfish figure strolled towards a short bush that grew next to the house Ms. Rogers, who had lived in the neighborhood for four years and was quite familiar with all the homes there, thought to herself there couldn’t possibly be enough room between the bush and the home to allow the being’s passage. But he seemed to have no trouble at all, she said, and walked right through.
Once behind the bush the fellow stopped. The limbs of the shrub were bare, having already shed its leaves but, although the vacant house could clearly be seen through the empty branches, she suddenly realized that she could no longer see this thing at all. It was as if he had simply disappeared. She had waited for some time, she confided, for him to come out from behind that bush. He never did.
Canoe Trip to the Unknown
Fellow Fortean collector, Stephen Wagner received a very interesting diminutive report which he posted on his excellent website Aboutparanormal.com. The report is reprinted here in its entirety with permission.
“When Steve W. set off on an adventure with just a canoe and a head full of summer dreams, he never expected that it would take him on the most fantastic journey of his life. Around the bend on that scenic river, the 50-year-old man discovered, was the dwelling place of creatures that he once regarded as belonging only to the world of storybooks and magic. But now, with his own eyes, he saw that they were real. This is Steve W.’s true story;
“On June 24, 2003, I went canoeing in Western Kentucky on the Rough River. I had just wanted to get away for a little rest and relaxation, away from my normally hectic life. I put my canoe in at a nice little portage near the Falls of Rough, just downstream of the falls, which is not too far from Rough River State Park. The current was very fast because of all the recent rainfall. It was really just a typical canoe ride down a very pleasant and scenic river.
I had a very funny, queasy, nervous feeling though. I was inexplicably anxious for some reason. Although I could not define why, I felt like I had something to fear, and I sensed death. Taking these sensations seriously, I was extremely cautious on the river because I didn’t want the death to be mine.
After several miles, I paddled the canoe to the riverbank and tied off to a tree. I got out to stretch and to explore the area. I climbed the bank and looked for a smooth, dry spot to pitch my tent. After deciding to camp near the water so I could keep a good eye on the canoe, I went on a little hike. I climbed up the hill and around the bend to a little creek that flowed back into Rough River. Looking down eight or 10 feet into the creek, I spotted what looked like the top of a clay jar. I instantly recalled a dream in which I found some ancient pots.
This recollection sent my imagination running wild with the thought that I might have found some old archaeological artifact. I started down the bank toward the creek. The bank was extremely slippery with mud and down I went, sliding all the way. My backside and hands were caked with gooey mud, but I stopped just short of the water and very close to the old earthenware pot. It was more like a clay crock and I quickly realized that it probably wasn’t very old and that the bottom was probably broken as well. I poked at it and noticed there were little hand print
s on it. I figured a raccoon had already searched it, but upon looking more closely saw that these prints were not like a raccoon’s; they were more like little human hand prints, about an inch wide.
As soon as that thought entered my mind I dismissed it as preposterous. I started pulling on the jar, but it was stuck really well in the mud with suction holding it down like super glue. I figured, well I’m all dirty anyway; I’ll just get a stick and pry this thing loose. After working on it for a while, it finally budged. But when it did, I heard something.
I heard what sounded like little kids laughing. It was coming from down the creek several yards away; in the bank somewhere. When I at last managed to pull the crock jar out of the mud, something screamed! It sounded like a little girl; really high-pitched and loud! Man, I was scared. Who or what could it be?
Not knowing exactly what to do, I grabbed the jar and began to scramble up that muddy bank. Glancing back, I saw something move down near the creek. Now I was freaking out! I made it back up the bank and set the stoneware jug down. It was just a cylinder about 14 inches tall and 12 inches in diameter. It had a little rim about an inch down from the top. It was dark brown on the outside and light brown on the inside.
I guessed it weighed about five pounds. And, yes, it did have little hand prints on it; that wasn’t my imagination. I sat at the top of the bank for a moment looking at the jar, trying to reason away the hand prints. It’s no big deal, I finally decided, compared to that scream and those voices. Leaving the jar for the moment, I walked along the creek a ways, and stopped every once in a while to peek through the bushes and see if anybody was there. That’s when I got the shock of my life!
When I looked over that bank I saw two little people standing about 10 inches tall. As incredible as that sounds, I’m not kidding! They had pale skin, little brown leather pants held up by suspenders, no shirts and little pointy hats made of what looked like leather. They had leather foot coverings that went up past the ankle. Their hair was a reddish color and their eyes blue. Their hands were only about an inch wide!
They knew I was watching, but they continued their task: they were pulling some kind of wooden stump down that muddy creek bank with long leather ropes or strings. These little men were surprisingly clean, I remember thinking, for the work they were doing. Then I heard a thump back where I first went in the creek. I looked back and there were three more of them, men just like the first two, and they had pushed that crock jar back down the bank.
They were all laughing, high-pitched laughter, like a bunch of kids. Then I heard a loud snap; and they were all gone. Their footprints were plainly visible in the mud, but they were gone along with the crock jar and the wooden stump. They had vanished in a split second My heart was racing and I struggled to catch my breath. I was feeling pretty insane! How am I going to tell anyone about this? Yet that’s exactly what I decided to do. I walked almost two miles back to the old mill by the falls where I started. (The stream was too fast to try to paddle the canoe back upstream.)
I had my cell phone with me, but it was just one of those emergency ones that I was going to use to call my girlfriend when I was ready to come home and she could come get me and the canoe. At the falls, I spotted a man in a pickup truck, whom I assumed worked for the golf course they were building there. I told him I needed a witness to what I had just seen. I didn’t expect him to believe me just from my story, but I thought perhaps I could get him to at least come look. He told me to quit smokin’ that stuff.
I practically pleaded with him to get someone else and we’d go down there together and I would show them. He flatly refused, saying I was crazy and that he wasn’t going anywhere with me.
Nearby was a cable TV repair truck; the repairman told me get away from him, too. I suspected that the guy in the pickup called the repairman on a CB radio or cell phone and told him he thought I was crazy. Between what I had seen and the reactions of these two guys, I was starting to feel a bit paranoid. I started to think: they'll call the police and have me arrested, and I sure don’t need that.
I gave up on those two and decided to walk back downstream to the ditch where it all happened. I just had to look again. When I got there; I cannot explain it; it wasn’t the same. There were no footprints, no sign of the little people at all. Where I slid down the bank was as clean as a whistle; no skid marks. The mud looked completely undisturbed. I was and still am absolutely positive that was the exact spot where it all took place. But there was no sign of anything.
I loaded up my gear in the canoe and got the hell out of there. About 20 miles downstream, I camped out in a hay field. That night as I lay in my tent, all of the strangeness and impossibility went through my mind of the strangest camping trip I ever had. I just could not get those little people out of my mind. They knew I was watching them, but for a little while they didn’t care; and then they vanished. In my mind, I can still hear them; like little kids on a playground, laughing, screaming, playing.
Was it real? Am I crazy? They were real. When I told my girlfriend the whole story, she just laughed and told me of the time she had seen a little green man under the lilac bush at her grandmother’s house when she was little. She had no problem with it. Well, it’s a big deal to me because I have to live with knowing what I experienced. It was just too strange! Little people; indeed!”
In Galveston, Texas on March 21, 2007, a man named Harry White was awakened around three a.m. by noises coming from outside his open window. He sat up and looked out and saw an object which he described as light colored and perhaps three feet tall, standing in his yard. On seeing the man peering from his darkened window, the object ran with blinding speed behind a small outbuilding and was lost to sight.
Five minutes later he heard noises coming from the roof, and the outside proximity lights came on. He was then subjected to five to ten minutes of ‘breathing sounds’ and, when he put his ear to the wall, the sound of something scraping down the wall. Strangely, he didn’t feel afraid at all at the time, but thinking back on the event upsets him now, he claimed. In the morning, when he attempted to search the backyard with his Mag-light, it immediately went dead.
He further described the creature as having a head and torso, and being about the same size as a small child and claimed that he had never seen anything move with such speed in his entire life. He has trouble, he said, recalling the exact sequence of events that transpired that evening, and thinks that he cannot account for as much as an hour between the time he heard the scratching noise and walking outside to investigate.
Hirsute Diminutives
A 51-year-old Toronto man discovered a cave near his Parliament Street apartment while out looking for his lost cat one day in August of 1978. He loved that damned cat, so of course he went inside in hopes of finding her. What he found instead was “...a living nightmare.” The tunnel dropped off into the underground sewer system, he said. Then he found his cat; or rather, half of it; the uneaten part. It was then that the creature appeared. It was three feet long and monkey-like, he claimed, with gray fur. Incredibly, the hirsute creature hissed at the man in English, “Go away, go away!”
“I’ll never forget it,” the witness claimed. “I was shaking with fear.”
Also in 1978, this time in Portland, Oregon, a group of students observed what they called a ‘mole man’ as it emerged from a man-hole in the sewer system near Portland State College. They threw rocks at the creature, which they described as hairless, with big eyes, fangs, clawed hands and a long snout, until it scurried back down the hole.
Smallfoot - The Mysterious Creatures of Summershade
Summershade is a small south-central Kentucky town nestled amid the hills and hollows of what lowlanders like myself would call ‘Hill Country.’ Located in Metcalf County, the scenery there is strikingly beautiful and much different from the marshy lowlands of Western Ky. Mountains, valleys and stone-bottomed creeks dominate a landscape that is covered with seemingly endless expanses of thick, virgin forests.
In 1995, my brother, Robert, moved to Summershade. His property consisted of roughly seventy-five acres on two parallel ridges covered with thick growths of Pine and Fir. A small, rocky stream ran near the house, separating it from the barn and completing the picturesque scene. All was well for a few months. Then he noticed that some of his chickens were starting to disappear. He could find no trace of them, nor any spoor left behind by any nocturnal visitors to his henhouse, it seemed. They were just gone.
He thought little of it, even though our family had found out the hard way back in Spottsville some 20 years earlier what a steady disappearance of barnyard fowl might mean. Chickens were, after all, usually the primary targets of any and all roaming predators, being easy prey items, especially when cooped.
Aside from the chickens, none of the larger livestock seemed bothered and nothing else on the property was disturbed. Nonetheless, as the weeks went by, the chickens continued to vanish and he remained bewildered as to why. It was not until after two family friends, Tim S. And Chris W. (real names on file), had come for a lengthy visit that the unidentified chicken thieves were finally described.
When they announced that they were intending to stay for several weeks, Robert graciously offered them the use of a good sized camper to sleep in. They took the camper about 100 yards from the house and parked it beside a heavily wooded area so as not to disturb anyone or be more bothersome than was necessary. When they retired of an evening they would drive to a dirt access road and walk a few steps to the camper.
The Inhumanoids Page 12
