Saw a bigfoot with my brother in the summer of 1972. We lived in the small town of Louisiana, Missouri, surrounded by vast forests and winding rivers.

One sweltering July afternoon, we decided to explore the outskirts of town near Marzolf Hill. The dense foliage cast an eerie shadow over the area as we ventured deeper into the wilderness. Suddenly, a peculiar smell permeated the air, a mix of decaying vegetation and an indescribable musk.

As we continued our trek, a strange rustling sound caught our attention. Our eyes widened as we spotted a towering figure emerge from behind the trees. It stood at least seven feet tall, covered in matted, dark brown hair. Its piercing red eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity.

We froze in fear, hardly daring to breathe. The creature’s massive, pumpkin-shaped head swayed from side to side, seemingly inspecting its surroundings. Its long, ape-like arms swung with each deliberate step, while its massive feet left behind deep imprints in the earth.

The bigfoot emitted a guttural growl that sent shivers down our spines. The sound was primal, a haunting mix of aggression and curiosity. We couldn’t tear our gaze away from the creature, mesmerized by its imposing presence.

Time seemed to stretch as it locked eyes with us. We felt an inexplicable connection, as if the creature held some ancient wisdom within its gaze. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished into the dense undergrowth, leaving us trembling with a mix of awe and terror.