There’s off the beaten path, and and then there’s the Boonies, where gravel roads turn to dirt and the woods that encroach on rural highways caress the sides of the car. Where trailers, are set up almost like check points. So close to the road on both sides, that a grain truck would have to squeeze through if it could at all. These are places you where you can literally track a family’s exposure to technology by the junk left almost in reach alongside the road. From wringer washer, to modern style, TV’s are similarly haphazardly displayed. When the dust a fine powder rises, to combine with the generations of appliances alongside the road, there are cars in these ditches as well.
There is the feeling at night that your in some post apocalyptic country music video shy the music. After squeezing through just such an area, we came directly upon a rusted hulk, with wooden planks that seemed loose as we drove accross them, this at a very cautious speed. We stopped on the other side and I went back to check the streams bed and examine the bridge. There was an odd sound as I climbed back in the jeep, and looked back at what view the tail lights afforded. Now something was blocking the road back east. Just on the other side of the bridge there sat a box that looked more like a enlarged phone booth than anything else. In the gravel dust I tried to get a picture , leaning out. But we weren’t staying. Looking back, it conjured images that weren’t comforting. Knowing our turn back towards the highway was somewhere ahead we went for it, gravel dust obscuring everything behind us, leaves and tiny branches counting coup, on us as we swept through. Not a minute later, though, I said “this scares me, this is just the kind of road that could be blocked by a fallen tree”. Like the Amazing Kreskin; I was right, because right there, coming to life out of the darkness, was our road block. The proof of its non-accidental nature was the pile of wooden chips at the junction where tree and stump met. Over 15 to 20 ft, it was not a huge tree but the girth was too much for me to move because of its
We were looking at each other, after a curse or two, and in the silence that followed,it came, a hillbilly like hoop and holler,unmistakable. The volume such that I’m guessing they were within 120 to 150 ft from the road, probably much less. This came of the dark, out of the woods, and Lori put the jeep in four wheel drive and partially drove around, partially drove over the its top foliage and branches, not sure of the damp ground beneath us. Lori hit the pedal, or at least as much as it she could in the pothole filled, car wide, dirt trail that passed for a road. We soon came to gravel, but the conditions along the roadside were not much better. We did make it to a more regular road, but felt that night it would be better to look for another location, than to continue searching roads in this immediate area.
Not for a moment do I lay this experience on people who live in the country. I live in the country. Many of my closest friends do or have, but the problem I’m trying to get to is one about individuals. The country is a great place to live, if you have alot of dogs and guns. I’m sorry but that’s my opinion. I wasnt always that cynical in my views about it. It used to be a place to relax, let down your defenses, and push the cares of the world away. But that may be a misconception. Obviously most people have heard about the drug labs that are and have been moving to the country for the last decade or more. Those criminally minded, those predators and worse have seen the benefits as well of an area like this.
Lets just be straight. You can see your dream house, a rough, old country place that you know you can transform into a dream house. The added bonus of the land around it. You cannot see your neighbors house. It is a quaint farm place with privacy, (where do i sign) You have bought it, in more ways than one. Maybe you live your life out happy, unintruded on, but maybe you don’t . The burglar(?) or whatever arrives one night. Your a grown up. You sleep in the dark, and that old house you wanted so bad is aging right along with you, creeking and groaning occasionally at night. This winds up being a cover of sorts and the thug gets in. Whether robber, rapist, or serial killer, your stuck in your house with him. If they opened every door and the assailant took you out in the yard, not one of your screams would reach a soul. There’s just too much distance between homes. I hope that explains my fears about life in the country side, about realities we have heard of.
This episode about the tree blocking the road, isn’t by a long shot, the only extreme we have run into in the residents of an area, or of the things we believe we may have found in these area. Many of the images we’ll be presenting in this article are here in an sort of interactive lab. I’ll be honest, these are ones we’ve kept in a sort of future file. They were to be stored until we can get a photo processing program like photo shop. Maybe then through tweaking, we could figure out if each is a misrepresentation in spiritual form, a trick of the eye, or possibly a person disposed of and thought forgotten. We’ve found many spots. One is a small bridge set up for what looked like hangings, with one foot planks to stand on, off to each side, and frayed lengths of rope hanging down directly over these planks in branches overehead. I thought, well, maybe a spot to butcher deer, but there were lower branches closer to the ground, that would have allowed hunters to stand safely on the ground to do the work. There was no need to tie a rope 12 ft above a stream bed and build a one by one platform to stand on to do the job, this 8 or 9 ft above the dried out stream, one dammed to
keep dry a short distance away.
In another location there was a large flat rock , with individual holes cut into its 4ft wide face. Each was filled with a substance just like blood, just accross a fence, in a pasture. Again this was a remote area but next to a gravel road. We have found what looks like carvings in mortar, and paintings of very large snakes eating women. These were usually beneath bridges. Around the pillars that support them, far back underneath, you can find wire, rope and chain. These were bound around these pillars, the loose length hanging partially on the ground stretched out, and clothing sometimes shredded, sometimes almost neatly folded. Imagine the scene; the pillars set up to hold something, possibly bind something, the odd clothing, paintings on the far walls up in the corners beneath, snakes and women, the motiff. There were usually dug out spots in this high area beneath, not the regular erosion of high water, but pits dug.
Some times a view of everything beneath was kept away , free of weeds except for the edges where it was allowed to grow high with one area cut as an entrance. In these spots we would usually find other artwork, obscene images scratched or drawn somehow on rock, and hearts, next to an image of a woman being devoured by a serpent or cut with a knife, there would be hearts. drawn and colored in with meticulous care. We have found these same settings throughout Bates County, and into Henry County.
In a recent trip througH The Urich-Creighton area, we found a winding stream next to a very large one. The smaller one was secluded, down a cliff some 40 ft and winding off into the woods in clear sight. I took pictures of this spot from 3 different locations. On the cliff top where I shot from was a gentle slope towards the edge and unobscured in a 25 to 30 ft vantage point. The reason I could not get a clear picture there, was not due to the lack of a window of vision. It was because I wanted to see what had caught my attention in the water, and was trying very near the edge of a drop off to get that shot, where a perilous weave of branches and dead sticks gave a false impression of the ground beneath.
We returned 3 days later and the entire site was the same , even the bottles left by its cliff, except now there was no view. Now trees and saplings had been placed all along the cliff two to 3 years of growth was suddenly there, yet not a stick among them was attached to the soil. I knelt and pushed aside some of the wall like staves and found in my limited view that they were loose. They were leaned up from below and tied in place. 3 days before I could have stood in 20 different positions along that cliff, and now not one vantage point
that allowed a view of the water or what was in it remained.
When I was at the bridge, 60 yards before this spot, in the woods below there was a loud clacking of stones or a stick against a tree. There had been no other sound but the passing cars. These loud reports were separate, yet at nearly the same intervals. Most things trying to hide maintain their silence, but when something intentionally makes a loud sound its usually a communication of some kind or a warning. I think, possibly whoever was making this sound knew as well that I’d gone up the hill and seen the odd appearance of the stream. It’s likely, if my assumptions right, like the guy with the plastic bags by the snake bridge , someone else wanted time to clean up. Just what they were disguising with the limbs is anyones guess. The only clues lie in these blurry photos. The pictures taken initially; some were just hazes of yellow or light greenish light, with no image at all. Some of them showed something, With some of the images I’ll present today, it’s clear there is something there. What, exactly remains to be seen.
To illustrate the possible realities in all this, we need to go back to the pigs hand we posted, the one with fingers, a forearm, elbow and shoulder all aligned in a human like sequence of parts. We also need to go back to our friend Duane Chilliness, who sent us another message, aimed at Lori, with an inuendo and a cryptic message about her paying attention to the piglets. 8 or 9 months earlier we had been paying attention to piglets, dumpsters we found full of them, with arcane images of bound women and a word, “PREPARE”. One day I thought I’d check into the pig business, see if there were any outstanding cases of crime, kidnapping or murder associated with them.
Just weeks ago we find a story of a pig farmer in Vancouver, Canada . ” Pickton” was supposed to have killed 56, at the last count. They were strippers brought to his complex as entertainment during parties he threw in one of the large buildings there. His activities were covered by a supposed charitable organization he was the founder of. It’s title only served as a tax break, yet the realities of the farm were much different. There was a six hundred pound boar allowed to run loose with the dogs that patrol the property. This animal was feared, and had injured people on many occasions. Pickton had a pistol he carried with a dildo on its barrel. This he used as a homemade silencer.
The roster of prostitutes was ever changing at his functions, because many of them disappeared, being killed by him, dismembered and frozen until he could run them through a wood chipper. He would then take this material to mix with his pig food. One woman who awoke during the night, after along evening of partying went looking for him. She found Pickton in the barn with a woman hanging from a hook or some form of suspension. He was in the process of skinning her. The woman was warned if she talked she could wind up right beside her. You might ask if this was just the work of two brothers, a twisted family, but no, Pickton’s get together’s were very popular with huge crowds attending. Undoubtedly there were others among them, to some degree aware of what was occurring, still they attended. Its reminiscent of the bloodthirsty mentality of people in the Roman Empire, and 3rd Reich.
Even more frustrating is the fact that these areas, in our county, are not unattended. What looks like the wild woodlands between groups of houses and towns are not left alone to nature, they have forest rangers of a sort. I’m not talking about any law enforcement group, or any relation to them. I’m talking about people using the areas for illegal purposes, possibly production or storage of materials and possibly much worse. These same sort of areas have, throughout history, been dungoens in a way to the evil men and women who use them for rape, torture and disposal.
If it seems I’m a bit over the top, possibly exaggerating the situation, well, maybe you should take a few days and examine our world. Not the one in commercials filled with upwardly mobile attractive people, who all have demure, proffessional approaches to everything, but the sulking brooding populace, even the beautiful among them reflecting a tired, at the end of their rope, appearance. See just how close the common man comes to these commercial’s suggestions of who we can be, with the right car or tooth paste. Drive with caution, I assure you, into a clime different from your own, the country or city, whatever is the polar opposite of your life. See what the feeling is you return home with. In either case, make sure you are in an inhabited area.
We all are forced in our world to function under realities of financial and social preasure, and some of us actually thrive in this. There are those that can’t face the collapsing business, the long realtionship coming to a end, or the fact that they’re just not who they used to be. Stir in resentment and embarrassment over the situation their in, anger in their inability to do anything legal about it, and finally isolation, and they become things they never would have dreamed, do things their upbringing would never of considered. They start to build a separate world, more to their liking. It is one that allows new things that give them pleasure. ,It is a world where they are the supreme power. All that remains is to find that rural, remote spot, where they won’t be bothered or interrupted as they implement their plans, live their new life, and start bringing new people into it one by one.
There is more , we will weave it in between the other stories we must catch up on, of a extraterrestrial nature.