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Ballyraven Cryptid Wildlife Protection Agency
The Ballyraven Cryptid Wildlife Protection Agency is an organization dedicated to studying cryptids, paranormal and supernatural organisms, strange phenomena, history - and nature in general! From folklore, scary stories, and sighting reports, to interviews, scientific studies, field trips, and more–the BCWPA explores the myths and real lives of our world’s rarest creatures, visitors, places, and happenings.
DISCLOSED CASES: From the BCWPA's archives, discover real stories submitted from real witnesses. From the strange, to the magical, and downright spooky, the world is brimming with tales of things we don't yet know about or understand.
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This public broadcast is made possible thanks to these BCWPA Agents: Brandon Ruch, Colten Williams, Daniel Berry, Donovan Scherer, Kimberly Nichols, Layla Leutwyler, Madelynn ODell, Matthew Schang, Pyper Wilson, Lenin Roman, Ronald Miller, PHouseGames, Anthony Ferries, Dandan, Fox & Brambles, Jim Walke, Claire, Hallesy, Heather, HELGA, Kris Mitchell, Kylie Reed, Rick Belcher, Cryptid Clyde, T. Carter Ross, Agus Mercado, Ead Daniels, Elizabeth Lukjanczuk, Shelby Fulton, Veronica Mulvaney, Zodiac Gaming Industry, Mr. Blue Sky
Ballyraven Cryptid Wildlife Protection Agency
It Lives Among Us | Arches Fork Skeleton #1
A dramatized account of the Arches Fork Skeleton.
SOURCES
Telltale Lilac Bush by Ruth Ann Musick
CREDITS
This public broadcast is made possible thanks to these BCWPA Agents: Brandon Ruch, Colten Williams, Daniel Berry, Donovan Scherer, Kimberly Nichols, Layla Leutwyler, Madelynn ODell, Matthew Schang, Pyper Wilson, Lenin Roman, Ronald Miller, PHouseGames, Anthony Ferries, Dandan, Fox & Brambles, Jim Walke, Claire, Hallesy, Heather, HELGA, Kris Mitchell, Kylie Reed, Rick Belcher, Cryptid Clyde, T. Carter Ross, Agus Mercado, Ead Daniels, Elizabeth Lukjanczuk, Shelby Fulton, Veronica Mulvaney, Zodiac Gaming Industry, Mr. Blue Sky
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Anywhere after dark, he felt it, it followed. In and out of the house, though he could never see it, only sense it. Sometimes, though, he could hear it. A strange, hollow, tap-tapping of hard feet on the ground, right behind him. Always when he turned, nothing would be there, but, he knew it was. Whatever it was, it was a mystery to him, but it was one he didn’t wish to uncover or understand.
He and his family had lived in this house for several years. This occurrence was not exactly new to him or other men in the area. Something had settled among the people, who knows how long ago. Its settlement unsettled them, sending even the calmest, the most rational of folks on pins and needles. If pressed about what they saw or heard or had happen, they wouldn’t let slip. Some would laugh off the questions uneasily, a nervousness reaching their eyes; others would abruptly end conversation, overcome by a fit of rage. Yet, you could tell, whatever happened had frightened them more than anything they'd ever experienced. Some let the disturbance affect them so greatly that they disappeared overnight, without a word or reason, furniture and belongings forgotten or abandoned in their haste, taking their family elsewhere. While he had not had anything substantial happen to him, he feared he may run away too. But, would that stop whatever plagued them, or would it follow deserters too?
The feeling had began about a year ago, getting louder, feeling stronger each passing day. While he pondered if it was all in his head, he knew that was wishful thinking. Every man in Arches (Arch-eez) Fork felt it, heard it, maybe saw it too. That evening he decided. This place had become cursed, haunted; it would be better to leave in case, for his family.
Packing the wagon, ready for the morning light to depart, he felt not only exhausted but starved. Asking his wife if there was anything to eat before bed, she mentioned that she had left a pie in the kitchen - for a quick breakfast. Looking for the knife that was supposed to be on the table, he looked instead on the floor; no luck. Bending over, above his head, he heard metal sliding across wood. Looking up, a skeleton arm held the utensil, the rest of its body obscured in shadow. It cut a slice of pie, taking the knife and treat with it into the darkness.
No one had quite fallen to sleep yet, but with his frenzied speech and wild eyes, they would have difficulty sleeping for several days. After missing Sunday services, his neighbors checked in. To their surprise, all that remained in the home was a butterknife and a partially eaten apple pie.
