One story from a viewer who claims he witnessed three sasquatch do battle to the death. What if its True?I can’t stay silent another day. I have the right amount of booze in me to relive this one more time, but not so much that I’m incoherent. It was the summer of 1992 and I had decided to live the best summer of my life before becoming a productive member of society. I’d fished, camped, and hiked throughout my entire youth, but that was all about to come to an end with two simple words – “I do.” I left my parents’ house early that morning with my pistol on my hip and my rifle in my hand. The park I was heading to was a couple of hours away and not often visited by anyone. I had heard all the wild stories about it and was anxious to see it for myself. At first glance, I was not disappointed. Off in the distance, I could see the open patches high up in the hills, bordered by large clusters of trees. To the left of the road was a dry riverbed that would make an easy trail for me. Time stood still in this place. Old moss-covered rock fences were the only evidence that human hands had ever been there. I thrilled as I took my first step, wondering what lay before me. If only I had known. After a couple of hours and a few stops, I came to a spot where the creek narrowed with a three-foot bank. A cluster of trees sat to the left and to the right was an open field of wildflowers. The wind that I had heard whistling through the trees all day was gone. I was suddenly aware of something dark. It was a gut-twisting feeling that came out of nowhere. I stopped and held my breath, afraid even to exhale, though I had no idea why. Then I saw it. Up ahead, a hundred yards to my right was something dark. It was as if that feeling had taken physical form. There was no movement or sound, yet, I felt it demanded my attention. Slowly, I reached for my binoculars. Immediately, I was hit with a blast of “DON’T!” I stopped dead for a single moment before continuing to lift them to my eyes. Why, or why, didn’t I listen? There, up ahead in the bushes, was a… a thing. A massive, black, hairy thing. I tried to tell myself it was a bear, but I couldn’t lie that well. It was a little after noon, and the sun was high in the sky. The downward shadow it cast made the thing’s face darker. Its eyes were cloaked under its massive brow, but somehow, I knew it was glaring at me. I could see its fangs – yes fangs – contrasted against its black face. There was no definition to its chest, but it was incredibly wide. I felt sick. My knees buckled and my head began to swim. I reached for the riverbank to steady myself and saw the creature vanish. Somewhere inside me, I felt a bit of relief, thinking it had left. Within seconds, it popped its head up again. Now it was 70 yards away. It stared its dark, evil intent at me through black, vacant eye sockets. It seemed to be saying in my mind, “if only you hadn’t looked.” It stretched up and over, as if it was getting a better look. Then it vanished again. I stumbled backwards, fighting the urge to turn and run. My mind raced. Some will tell you that they think of their loved ones. Or they might say the idea of becoming a part of the Missing 411 phenomenon crossed their minds. That wasn’t the case with me. I thought about how this thing might attack me, how bad it would hurt and how long it would take to die. I wondered if it would rip me apart or eat me while I still struggled to get away. Every thought was a horror worse than the last. Now I could hear it making noise as if it wanted me to be scared. I had heard tell that blood was sweeter when adrenaline was dumped into it, so I wondered if this was what the thing was doing. It stomped, broke branches, and huffed as it moved through the brush. Again, it raised its head. It was 40 yards away. Its details were now more defined. It was more disgusting than I imagined. Its face glistened in the sun. A patch