It was 1995, I had just graduated High School, an old friend who I haven’t talked to in 7 years now and I were hanging out and I said, “Let’s go to New Orleans.” And we did. We had $140 between us and back then that was more than enough. We made it New Orleans, almost died from culture shock, and turned around and headed to Magnolia, MS to get some sleep. We stayed at Magnolia Inn, it was a shit hole, but it was nice and cool. It was May or June, in south MS; cool was the only adjective that mattered. We stayed up that night playing poker, drinking Gordon’s vodka, and talking about who knows what. Probably girls, college, and college girls. At some point I said, “Ever been to Texas?” “Nope.” “Pack your bag and let’s roll.” We had a road atlas; Marshall, TX was right across the border from Shreveport.
We arrived in Shreveport, made a phone call to another friend, who we were actually supposed to be staying with. Both of our mothers had called looking for us. The only person that knew where we were was the buddy on the phone. It was no big deal; we would be home in a day or two.
Before we left that rest area in Shreveport where we made the call, we saw an armadillo. Let me tell you something about armadillos, those bastards will hiss, jump, and turn into Tasmanian Devils if you corner them. They also carry leprosy. We were 18; we chased that armadillo around for an hour. Now let me tell you about Shreveport. I don’t know how it is now but, in the summer of 1995, it looked and smelled like a place where oil and metal went to die. It was dirty. It was a shit hole. We crossed a bridge and saw people fishing 100 yards from where a drainage pipe from a factory was spewing forth waste upriver from the fisherman. The locals reminded me of the locals in Adamsville, bald headed women and cross-eyed men. A lot of bald-headed, cross-eyed kids. I’m sorry but it was a Rob Zombie movie come to life. The best part of Shreveport was an armadillo that might possibly have leprosy. Marshall, TX was 40 miles away. We rolled on.
Marshall was a decent little town. Home of the Fire Ant Festival. We stopped at a little bar-b-q joint and had a coke, a smile, and some pulled pork. It was getting late, and the sun was setting, we looked at the map and decided to back track a bit and head up rural route 43, through Karnack, and past Caddo Lake. We would eventually run into Hwy 59, head to Texarkana and then head back home. When we left the bar-b-q joint and headed towards 43 it was dusk. Hwy 43 wasn’t well lit. My friend was driving, and we were doing about 45 mph, any faster would have been reckless even for a couple 18-year-old dumbasses.
This road was dark, winding, full of hills that ended in curves; there were beady and glowing eyes on both sides of the road. You could hear the crickets and the bullfrogs over the sound of the wind rushing by that old Sentra. It was peaceful and creepy at the same time. The humidity was a real thing, tangible. The air was thick. It smelled like pastures, hay, and swamp. We drove for what seemed like hours, it was after midnight, and I saw a sign that informed me that Bivins was the next town of any size. I was hypnotized by the yellow lines on the road; we hadn’t seen another car in at least an hour, sleepy. I rolled the window down and lit a cigarette. There was music coming from the radio, the tape player, it was either Tupac or Bob Seger. I smoked my cigarette, absent mindedly flicking ashes out of the window. I took one last puff and flicked the still burning Camel Short off into the woods. Then I saw it.
I never looked to my right; I didn’t even peek to the right. Maybe I did a little when I flicked the cigarette away. I don’t know. What I do know is that in my periphery there was something running alongside the car. It was just behind my window, behind where the edge of the door ends and before where the back window begins. I looked over at the speedometer, 40 mph. I looked at my friend, he was looking straight ahead, I looked straight ahead. I could still see it. I could see one huge arm, matted hair, reddish brown, sticky looking, and primal. I eased my right hand over and rolled up my window. My friend was still looking straight ahead, his jaw was clenched, and he put both hands on the wheel, he sped up.
No words were said. I looked straight ahead and still out of my periphery I could see that arm moving, muscles and tendons visibly rippling beneath that matted hair. As the car gained a little speed the thing running alongside us lost pace, slightly, I then saw the hand on the end of that nightmarish arm.
The hand was clenched into fist the size of a cantaloupe, a big cantaloupe. It was covered in the same hair but slightly darker around the fingers, like it was stained with something. Suddenly the hand unclenched and then I saw the claws, black as this damned after midnight Texas night. Those claws were at least two inches long, sharp, like an animal. This wasn’t a hand so much as it was the killing paw and claws of some beast whose only purpose was to kill and eat.
I looked back at my friend; I looked at the speedometer, 50 mph. I looked straight ahead; it was still there. I lit another cigarette, didn’t roll the window down, and simply said, “Shit.” The music had stopped. I finally broke the silence and said, “Hey, do you…” and before I could finish my buddy said, “I see it, I’ve been seeing it. I can’t even see you, but I can see whatever the hell that shit is.” “How much do you see?” “More than I want to.” “Speed up, John, just speed up. It can’t keep up forever.” I looked over, 55 mph, whatever was chasing us, silently, was starting to lag behind. I finally looked to my right, just a bit, imagine the scary part of the movie where you put your hands in front of your face but still peek through. In 37 years, I have two regrets, one is picking up that first cigarette and the other is me looking to my right that night. This beast was huge, its chest was above the top of the car, and all I could see was that matted reddish brown hair. Then it bent forward as it ran, I saw the face of this thing, all reality stopped. We were no longer driving down some country road in Texas. We were now trying to escape from the depths of a monster inhabited hell.
This thing’s face is beyond my powers to describe. It was evil. The eyes were black, and the pupils were red. It flashed its teeth at me in a snarl, yellow and huge. Saliva dripped from its mouth. It opened its eyes wide, and it looked hungry and pissed off. Then it opened its mouth, the skin pulled back until all you could see were black gums and yellow teeth. Immediately I could feel the car accelerate. “Fucking hell, John, just go!” I prayed. I cussed. I lit a cigarette. Then like sunshine breaking through the clouds the road straightened out. “Don’t you slow down.”
We drove through Bivins, and we drove to Texarkana. Then we drove home. We never said a word. It was years later, 11 to be exact, before we ever even talked about it again and we didn’t talk about it much. He said he’d never told anyone, and I hadn’t either. Call it what you will, call it bullshit if you want, but look me in the eyes and let me tell you this story and you’ll know. Never doubt that there are things in this world that defy explanation and logic. The boogeyman is real.
Update: The old Toys R Us is now a Floor & Decor
I hope I don’t have to leave my name for this to post. A friend of mine in the 70s that had dabbled in magic did a conjuring spell and a few weeks later she and a carload of friends were parked on a boat ramp near Crippled Children’s landing. They were stoned, but don’t chalk this up to the influence of drugs. She said something black and female-shaped came out of the water and on its head was that long, straggling moss. It ran up the boat ramp and leaped on the hood of their car. They backed up fast and it fell off. Several years later an acquaintance of a friend of mine told me about an encounter he and a buddy had with the same creature. I didn’t ask him any questions or provide telling leads. He just told his tale and it stunned me. He was from Kansas and couldn’t have possibly known my friend that cast the spell. I’ve searched for any incidents like theirs and I’ve lived around here all my life. I’ve never heard anymore about the black lake woman and presume she’s no longer inhabiting the waters of Lake Wright Patman.
There is definitely two different creatures. I was alone December 21st at about 1: 30am and I saw and got chased on my Harley by a four legged matted hairy filthy beast that I ran into it had long front legs and short back legs and it had a wide mouth and I thought it was a hunter in a guilley suit until I got close to it on the Elliot bluff boat ramp road right where the parking spots are for the observation area I realized that this was about 4 or 500 lb beast like the size of a medium cow it had nasty looking dread locks hanging off of it and it was NOT any animal I’ve ever been taught about and I’m very knowledgeable about nature. It lunged at my Harley after kinda backing up into the grass on the left hand side of the road where the culverts we’re replaced and there’s rocks and I saw it coming and popped the clutch and got about 100 yards away and when I went past it I was looking back while it was close to me I saw it chased me for about 20 yrds and I called my girlfriend while stopped looking behind me and I was screaming at this point SCARED FOR MY LIFE ! I dialed her number then sped off to the end of the boat ramp where I turned around and faced my day maker headlights at the entrance of the parking lot there was nobody there! No cars or anything and I stayed there talking to her in panic because I had no idea how to get out of there without riding back into the path of this thing that just tried to knock my bike over and kill me. It’s been 4 days and it’s all I can think about and that’s how I found this article but the comments are more profound than the article to me because the creature at lake wright patman from the 80s is still there. It’s dangerous and I will not ever go to Elliot bluff again without a dash cam and another set of eyes to witness anything else first hand. I know this creature is not Bigfoot for a fact. I sound crazy but I saw one early last year walk across a family members property my buddy that was facing me heard the scream it let out after it made it’s way over a fence thru some brush and behind the barn and it sounded like it killed something my buddy I won’t name but he is a person I can get to tell his first hand story of that day but the creature was very dark covered with hair and it was roughly 8 ft tall and at a walking pace it covered the field in about 2.5 seconds and I reenacted this later and it took me closer to ten seconds to casually walk across the field exactly as the sasquatch did and there’s no way you can convince me that either of these incidents were hoaxed because the size alone of both creatures was just too big to even try to fake. I am Steamboat I’m from Dallas and didn’t believe in either creature before I had these encounters and this is legitimate and this is my testimony of the two times I’ve seen with my own eyes “mythical creatures” do I think they are mythical creatures?? no they are real!!!! I am willing to take a lie detector test. I’m beginning sometimes to think I might have hit my head too hard haha but I don’t believe I would be riding a Harley Davidson successfully if I was prone to hallucinations of creatures that I research and find encounters exactly like mine…. Merry Christmas I hope you all can get the evidence you need to give that they are real cause I’ve first hand been humbled to the woods cause I have a whole new respect for the sulfur river bottoms. Y’all don’t go in the woods without a camera I am installing a dash cam on my Harley soon as I can. I will feel better about going out there if someone will atleast know the truth on camera if I get killed looking for this beast at the lake.
I would love to know who is the author of this story. Would like it to become the novel he mentioned.
I had some kind of creature run out to the middle of the road on 125 right on the outside of McLeod, TX which intersects Hwy 43 a few miles down. I was looking down when it started toward the road, but it stopped right on the yellow stripe and started me in the eye while I passed. I was in a 93 E-350 van and the seats sit high from the ground and he was eyeball to eyeball while on all fours. It was gray in color, but filthy, matted hair longer, kind of slender mid section, and a neck more like a llama. I couldn’t really describe the face because of its black, hollow eyes had mine locked in. I know a couple that live close by and have all seen it too. It’s not bigfoot. It’s not the Fouke or Boggy Creek Monster. I’ve lived in Fouke since 15 and I’m 37 now. That thing ain’t right
I live in bivins not far from 43. In fact my road goes to a 4 way that meets 43. I’ve heard of this before. Me and a buddy were hog hunting a year ago roughly in a small area called Douglasville. North of Atlanta tx. We kept hearing tree knocking and whooping. I never had an experience like that but my buddy an older gentleman has at his deer lease in northern Arkansas. He described trees broken and put in X’s along the drive way in. Not small trees but very large ones. And seeing huge foot prints several feet long. A friend of his I worked for was out driving around in the 80s one night by the local lake Wright patman and seen a large hairy beast that lunged at his camaro. Idk what yall call them where you’re from but we call them Bigfoot here.