What if it's True Podcast

The Thing Outside My Tent
Growing up in Bath, Maine, he developed a deep comfort in the wilderness, often spending days solo camping and foraging. During one four-day excursion with their hunting dog, Sparky, the narrator set up camp by a creek, successfully hunting squirrels and catching fish. However, the atmosphere shifted after they discovered a mysterious den surrounded by bones and unidentified tracks, leaving the narrator with an unsettling premonition that they were being watched.
The tension peaked that night when an eerie silence fell over the woods, broken only by a strange, scratchy breathing outside the tent. Expecting a bear attracted by leftover fish bones, the narrator peeked through a window flap and was paralyzed by the sight of a Lunksoos, or "Indian Devil." This legendary New England cryptid—a terrifying mix of cougar, bear, and coyote—reeked of death and moved with impossible speed, vanishing into a blur the moment it was startled by Sparky’s whining.
The encounter turned violent when the creature suddenly charged, trampling the tent and leaving the narrator bloodied and Sparky terrified. The two spent the remainder of the night huddled together in fear, waiting for the first sign of light. As soon as the sun rose, they abandoned their gear and fled the woods, forever changed by the realization that some legends are rooted in a very dangerous reality.

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Nightfall With a Dogman

After fifteen years as a patrol officer and SWAT operator, a veteran responds to a frantic 911 call on a stormy October night: an elderly rancher reports a monstrous black creature—tall, fast, with eyes like fire—mauling his livestock. Arriving at the isolated property, the officer finds the chicken coop and lamb pen in savage ruin: birds shredded beyond recognition, six lambs mangled with impossible force, their bodies twisted and torn. Massive bipedal tracks, nearly seventeen inches long with clawed toes, confirm something unnatural walked upright through the mud. Drawn into the black pines by the old man’s terrified warning that “it watches,” the officer confronts the entity: a hulking shadow with glowing red eyes seven feet high, radiating pure hate. A deep growl vibrates through his chest, followed by an inhuman shriek that silences the storm; the creature vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Backup searches yield nothing more, and the incident is logged as a routine “suspicious circumstance / possible livestock mauling.” The old man flees, abandoning the cursed ranch to rot. Hunters now avoid the woods, and the officer remains haunted, knowing those fiery eyes may still linger in the darkness, watching.

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Sasquatch Terror for Hikers
In 2016, while driving from Los Angeles to Portland with his girlfriend and detouring for off-roading in his new Jeep, the narrator and his partner heard repeated blood-curdling screams echoing through remote mountain roads, sounding like a woman in distress. They dismissed it at the time, but later at a tourist spot they discovered a guest book filled with locals’ Bigfoot sightings, planting the first seed of curiosity in his mind. Four years later, now a committed Bigfoot believer with a new Jeep Rubicon, a massive Mastiff, and a new girlfriend, he set out on what seemed like a routine hike in the mountains near central LA County. As they descended into a bowl-shaped valley, they encountered a series of increasingly large piles of freshly uprooted shrubs and bushes deliberately blocking the narrow trail—plants too tough for any human to pull bare-handed—followed by twisted and braided tree branches high overhead. The climax came at a massive 9-foot-wide, 6-foot-tall wall of freshly torn trees and debris that completely sealed the path; after pushing through, they felt intensely watched, heard sprinting footsteps, and glimpsed a large figure scrambling up a steep cliff and hiding behind bushes, rocks tumbling in its wake. Years afterward, while camping with a friend in a Sequoia grove in Yosemite’s Sierra National Forest, the narrator heard slow, deliberate knocking sounds coming from the tree line across a clearing—sounds that ceased whenever anyone approached within 25 feet and resumed once they retreated, as if something were playfully interacting with them. Though his life has since changed dramatically—his beloved dog passed away in 2020, he sold his Jeep, moved away from Southern California, and hikes far less—these encounters left him forever drawn to the outdoors and convinced of what lurks unseen in the wild.

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Bigfoot Pie Thief
A 12-year-old boy finishing lunch at his grandparents’ farm watched in shock as a furry hand reached through the open kitchen window and snatched one of Grandma’s freshly baked apple pies from the sill. Grandma charged in swinging her hickory switch like a sword, cracking the knuckles of the thief and sending both hand and pie flying out the window. Racing to look outside, the boy saw a six-foot-tall, hairy creature sprinting toward the woods with the pie in its grip, grunting and laughing the whole way. Grandpa arrived just in time to see it vanish into the trees, then calmly sat the boy down on the porch and explained that the creature was a “Booger”—one of a small family living several miles over the ridge. The young male thief had been bold enough to test Grandma’s cooking before, but the clan generally kept its distance and meant no real harm. Over the years the now-57-year-old narrator had many more encounters with the Boogers, some face-to-face, yet he always remembered Grandpa’s advice: lower any weapon, raise empty hands, smile, and back away slowly. Treating them with the same respect given to any wild predator—giving them room and never crowding them—kept every meeting peaceful. The creatures sometimes passed through at night or watched from the woods, but they could also be surprisingly considerate; the morning after the pie theft, six fresh apples appeared on Grandma’s windowsill as repayment. The narrator lives with the firm knowledge that these beings exist, neither crazy nor delusional, and believes people and Boogers can coexist just fine if both sides show a little courtesy.

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Bigfoot and Mountain Men
While listening to a Bigfoot podcast on the porch, the narrator’s 94-year-old great-granddad Elijah shared a secret from his youth. As a teen in early-1900s Tennessee, Elijah and his two best friends were close to a hermit called Crazy Joe, who taught them wilderness skills. When Joe vanished, his shack was wrecked; weeks later he returned wealthy, clean-shaven, and driving fine horses. He revealed he had once struck gold in a hidden Idaho valley guarded by giant, hairy “Ancient Ones.” Joe invited the boys west. They reached the remote Valley of the Ancients, lived with a Shoshone friend called Long Tooth, and learned the creatures’ rules: leave food on a sacred rock and never chase them. In return, the gentle but towering Ancient Ones left gold nuggets almost daily. During three winters the boys glimpsed the hairy beings, hunted alongside them, and filled a wagon with wealth before returning to Tennessee as wealthy young men. Elijah used his share to buy the family farm that still stands today. When the narrator doubted the tale, Elijah produced a worn journal and a bag of gold nuggets matching every detail. The family has kept the secret for six generations.

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