Texas Obscurity: Paranormal Encounters, Legends, and Just Plain Weird

 Texas has a great many things that I love. One of those things are the legends of Texas. I grew up in two places in Texas. One was in North Texas, around the DFW area, the other was in Southeast Texas near New Braunfels. From Dallas to San Antonio, the culture changes as much as the weather does. 

I asked a group of people on Facebook about what Texas stories they have that could fit in the big box of oddities, supernatural, creepy or just plain weird for weird's sake. 

The world is a fascinating place if you bother to look up from your smartphones or pull your mind away from the hypnosis of media in all forms, including this form to a certain degree. However, I would suggest you read this before you go on a quest for enlightenment and take on a media fasting. 

Some of the stories that my Facebook Friend's posted regarding the open question I asked regarding Texas stories, include everything from strange artwork in strange cities, to portals in Terlingua. Let's take a dive into the world of the super supernatural, shall we? 

The first comment came in from a long time friend from my high school days, Andrea. 

She writes: Baby Head Cemetery! It's my background pic. 

She includes a link to a wikipedia page regarding this strange and horrifying place: 

The Native American's always get bad press when it comes to historical data from the 1800's. To me, the Native Americans were always fascinating and I was mildly obsessed with the legends of most of the tribes in the Southwest due to my own Grandmother and her side of the family. Being adopted and not being fully told that important information regarding my lineage, I assumed as any child would, that I was also a part of the long and fascinating history of the Native Americans. Most of my cousins are Native American's on my Mother's side and even my Grandfather who we affectionately called, "Pop," spoke of his Grandmother being full blooded Native American. 

 Sites like "Baby Head Cemetery" were given these names due to something usually blamed on the tribe who lived in that region and per the usual mythos of settlers, "did something plain ol' awful."  Whether they did or didn't decapitate a child and place its head at the foot of the mountain in Llano, Texas, remains up for debate. However, like most myths and legends, the ingredients required to create the right brew of energy to manifest something potently creepy, are indeed alchemized.  In other words, to quote Albert Einstein, "Thoughts become things." It would stand to reason that people visiting this place would hear the sounds of a baby crying and see the apparitions of warriors with scalps in hand. Indeed they have very much willed that into existence either way, and energy is no "respecter of personage." 

The next story comes from another long time friend, Donnie W. 

He writes: 

       "When I was a youngster, I traveled with my dad during the summer. He was a tool pusher in the oilfield. One summer we were working in an oilfield on the Mexican border. We stayed at an old hotel in Rio Grande City called the "Ringgold." It was built in the mid-19th century by a French architect. The structure reflected the French architecture of that period. It was owned and run by a retired Harvard Professor and his wife. The hotel was all original as it was built over a hundred years prior with the exception of electricity and indoor plumbing. I remember a tiled goldfish pond in the middle of the courtyard. I remember it had a bar with a large painting I will never forget. It was of a Mexican village and their children running frantically for shelter. Some of them on their knees praying for God to spare them. And in the middle of the painting was a nun, running towards the tornado with a pair of scissors. The proprietor said this painting was of an old Mexican folk tale. If you cut the tail off of a tornado, it will go away. The old hotel and the painting are still there. It is called La Borde House now which was it's original name." 

Right: LaBorde House, Rio Grande City, Texas

Left: Here is the artwork he was speaking of. It took a while to find it, but luckily someone out there found it as strange and curious as Donnie did when he was a little boy on an adventure with his Dad.  

Like most things Texas, even our heroes and art end up blending with the culture of Mexico. I found it hilarious that even something as seemingly random as the Mexican folktale of "cutting the tail off a tornado," made it all the way to Old West Pop Culture. 

Left: Pecos Bill Lassoing the tail of a tornado. 

To the old west connoisseur, Pecos Bill is about as close as you'll get to Texas iconography. I'm not even sure if Pecos Bill is from Texas! However, it doesn't matter. The blending of folklore of the old west mixed with Mexican folktales makes for the most authentic flavor of most proud Texan's psyche.

Along with the true accounting of stories I "commissioned" via my Facebook platform, a few hilarious ones made the cut. 

A friend of mine named Char gets honorable mention here. Char is eccentric, hilarious, and one of the most endearing people I've ever met.  Char looks like if you mixed David Bowie's most flashy album cover with Andy Warhol & Annie Lennox as youngsters.

Char writes: 

         "I once ate at a Whataburger in Henderson, Texas. I'm 95% sure I made the newspaper." 

Small towns in Texas usually aren't that small in the sense of how long it takes to drive through them. For the eccentric like Char or even myself to a certain degree, it is not a far stretch to assume someone took notice of your presence. They may not outright seem to accept your presence, but in reality, the silent weather beaten faces of rural Texas are grateful that the "scenery changed" that day. They may have an excuse to walk 1/4 mile down to their "neighbor's" house and crack open a Shiner and engage in a philosophical discussion regarding "a change is comin'... yep... you know what I saw today?" 

Texans are philosophical contrary to popular belief. If you get one of the old timers talkin' up a dust storm, you might find out they have a few surprises up their sleeves. This has often been the case when I had to visit relatives in south Texas where the population matches the temperature outside. In my teenage years, I thought these rural types were completely out-of-touch idiots who hated anything new and fun. I've come to realize that IF I paid attention to them and got them "a talkin' " you might find out they have a whole theory on alien life from space, or that they've shot a Chupacabra back in '43. That in and of itself is enough, but Texans will have a philosophy regarding that random event. They may roll out a Twain-ish statement like, 

"A fella can't think he's the only fella there is. Nah, God works in mysterious ways. Bible says that you know. Although the Bible was censored heavily by corrupt factions of the Roman government at the time... but yeah, there's more out there than we care to think about." 

The next story comes from a close friend named Beth: 

                  Beth writes: 

                            "So mine isn't that interesting but when I was younger we went to Austin and San Antonio. Everyone wanted to go the Alamo, and I threw the biggest fit and did not want to go. I had no explanation on why I didn't want to go so of course I lost and we went... Although it was fascinating, I could not shake the feeling of depression, and that someone(or more) were following me throughout...it still gives me the creeps and I really never want to go back." 

The Alamo is famous and there's no need to get into it here because "we've heard it," but the energy imprint of that whole area is profound.  It is so seeped into the subconscious of Texans that as a kid, I assumed the battle had just happened by the way my grandparents spoke of it. My "Pop," sometimes would drive me to school. He would regale me with stories of Santa Ana and these stories were as fresh in his mind as the actual war he fought in. (WW2) Hilariously, if we did something as kids that was "naughty" my Pop would say that "Santa Ana would find us and whoop our behinds." This, to me, was the most effective threat of them all. No way was I going to allow Santa Ana to discipline me!  

Reports of paranormal experiences are too numerous to state in this blog regarding The Alamo and the surrounding old hotels that line the streets. The river that runs through that area was a known "energy leyline" to the more esoteric studies of Rudolph Steiner and Edgar Cayce in the early 1900's when science was less suppressive than it is now. Meaning- in what we claim as "modern times," where Trillion dollar pharmaceutical companies get the last word on anything health related and where the self-made "gods" of Academia rule with a golden tongue. Thus anything new or slightly askew is to be damned. 

*Side note: I highly recommend the FANTASTIC book by Charles Fort, "The Book of the Damned." It was written in the turn of the century but it's full of wit, sarcasm and truly researched material on paranormal oddities ranging from weather to watched pots. It's fabulous*

I grew up half of the time in the area of San Antonio in a small town named La Vernia. The creek that ran outside of our old farm house (made of limestone by German immigrants) was called, "Woman Hollerin' Creek." You can take a wild guess at why it has that name and you'd be correct. Arrowheads were as abundant as the cattle down on our land and the ghosts were too. 

My Aunt (by marriage) Jane, seemed to be the only person who shared in my psychic abilities to perceive the "visitors," who frequented the upstairs of that old house. She refused to stay overnight in that place, but my brother and I didn't get that luxury of choice. We had to share a bedroom upstairs and it was just sort of accepted that if we dared to look out this bizarre window that overlooked the interior hallway, we would have some uninvited "guests" in period clothing of the 1800's looking back at us.  I have hundreds of stories about this area, but I'll save those for a different blog. The purpose of this one is to catalog other people's experiences and maybe throw in a few juicy bits of my own in the process. 

A few more honorable mentions of comments are: 

Brenda S writes: No crazy stories, I love this thread. I have been to watch the paranormal lights in Marfa. 

The Marfa Lights are one of the more famous Texas legends that really aren't a legend but just sort of "are."  Of course, some self-important academics who wouldn't know anything extraordinary if it bit them in their indoctrinated asses, claim it's just reflections of head lights. So when you look up Marfa Lights now, that is the immediate top search result that just explains everything in a nice tidy not-unusual-at-all package. Locals and other fellow travelers to this area would punch those underachieving students in the face for suggesting such mundanity. The fact is, for hundreds of years people have spoken about these lights. (long before the days of automobiles and their headlights) 

Native American's told stories for hundreds of years in their rich oral tradition that these mysterious lights were "fallen stars." A beautiful story no doubt. 

The theory that probably is the closest to the truth without sacrificing interest comes from an author of several books on the subject, 

Among the comments there are a few more before I get to the lengthier ones that I find pretty funny....

John G writes: "Anywhere in Grayson County, it's like the Twilight Zone there and Meth Zombies are everywhere." 

(left) Grayson County image search

Robert J writes: In San Antonio on US 87 inside of loop 410 north of La Vernia there was a toilet graveyard. I have film of it somewhere.

 (La Vernia as mentioned above is where a great deal of my childhood creepfest stories take place)

Stephen T writes: "Tokio, Texas." 

Todd W simply writes: Texas 

I'm assuming he means the whole damn thing. 

Kitara writes: "Comfort Texas, anywhere up and down its streets- feels like 1952. Like a perfect small Hill Country Texas Town." 

With a name like "Comfort" how could it not be?

Pix S writes: "I fell in love with this book as a kid- we had an old 1968 Edition (I think) lying around, and I usually pick one up any chance I can. Handbook Of Texas is great too. The "Why Stop" is full of fascinating information on all the historical markers in the state. Lots of fodder, the lot of them." 

Mike S writes: "Pix, I think we have a hardback of the Texas historical markers book. At least one of them." 

And now to more juicy stories...

A friend of mine named Denise T writes: 

"When we lived in Lively, Texas, before moving to Salado, we had a house that was built in the 70's but years ago there was a cotton plantation where the house was. We had an apparition in the house. A good one, fortunately. She seemed to come around before and after we had parties. Never freaked us out. Right before we moved she was seen in blue instead of the white. A friend said that the blue meant she accepted us." 

A good thing it was benevolent! 

It is often a head scratching thought for me as to why, in spirit form, you would choose to stick around in the material world? I've heard and researched hundreds of stories where this seems to be the case. The great Dolores Cannon who was a psychotherapist that patented a technique of hypnosis called QHHT (Quantum Healing Hypnosis Therapy) has a great book out there called, "Between Death and Life."  It is a collection of hundreds of her patients who were struggling with some form of reoccurring illness that doctors in traditional western medicine failed to relieve the symptoms of, often after the "cure" had been successfully administered.  

What Dolores Cannon found with almost each of her patients is that they had a very traumatic death or life before the one they were currently living. Dolores Cannon, much like the great Edgar Cayce, was a typical Christian born and bred in the South with rigid beliefs regarding such "nonsense." And yet, there it was? This information "be damned!" was flying in the face of belief systems. Lucky for us, people like her didn't outright dismiss these accounts but instead decided to dig their heels in deeper to understand. 

In almost all the cases of this phenomenon, the patients were symptom free after having closure, be it subconscious closure, nevertheless it seemed to be effective. In some cases, the patient would readily admit that they remained on the "Earth plane" in a ghostly form for a substantial amount of time trying to understand what happened to them. Once they finished their "unfinished business," the usual kind and loving light being would appear to lead them to a healing place where they could decide whether or not to have a "redo," to learn lessons that may have not been fully learned while they were in the physical body. 

I do not throw these notions out because before the age of 4, I remembered such specific things that it couldn't have been my imagination creating a fictional world to cope with the one I was living in. Upon further self-exploration, I have found that these notions, these thoughts were in fact very real remembrances of something/somewhere Before here and now. 

Another area of Texas that I have been drawn to since I was a kid, was the area in and around Big Bend.  A few years ago I was looking into buying land in a town called Terlingua just outside of the Big Bend National Park. I wasn't intending on living there, but I just wanted to own land there. The whole area is full of legend and lore ranging from skinwalkers to alien space craft, secret government projects to hybrid creations from military clandestine projects escaping out into the desert. 

A long time friend I worked with in many, many shows wrote her story on this Facebook thread. 

Doran G writes: 

"Terlingua Chilli cook off in the early 70'. I flew in with my Dad who was covering for an event at KERA. A small 6 seater plane. It was my dad, myself, some other couple and an entertainer with a chimpanzee jumping all around the plane.. and the pilot. Knowing what I know about chimps, I'm lucky to be alive but that isn't the end of the story, only the beginning. I couldn't have been more than 10 or 11 years old. I was there in the mountains of Terlingua, Texas, recovering from a bout of full blown vertigo upon turning into the mountains to land 600 miles from civilization in any direction. I was basically on my own. While my Dad was doing his press thing, I remember sitting on what looked like an ancient wall with travel trailer after travel trailer as far as my eyes could see that were rolling in for this insane event. It was like another planet to me. I was pretty, sure, and I was the youngest and for sure the only sober person for 600 miles. But, what made it so foreign and strange was the landscape. It was like that filter in the phone pic editor that makes everything look vintage. That's what it looked like. Dust blowing everywhere, it just didn't seem like a real place. Strange people, strange place, stranger event. The smell of chilli, tequila, beer and DIRT. I was wearing a tag on this leather halter top that looked like Davy Crockett's suede jacket that my Dad had bought me for the trip. I was sitting high up on a concrete booth enjoying the crazy music and loud laughter of the participants and waiting for the Armadillo Races to begin when I caught something from below with my eyes. I look down from the safety of my press badge that I wore so proudly(I'm with the reporter and a chimp) and I think to myself, "What do I see? A man with one tooth, stringy long hair, no shirt, filthy pants, climbing up this rock wall, laughing and saying 'Look Everyone it's the press," as he snickered and was spitting out his one-toothed lips! He was coming straight up the wall, right for me, creeping and crawling right for ME! I was alone (basically) on another planet (basically) in a dust bowl of a ghost town and this "Deliverance" looking guy is making his way up this UN CLIMBABLE wall saying, "I'll give her a press." WTF? I think, and then I remembered the sticker worn so proudly on my chest THE PRESS, anyhow needless to say, I was more than freaked. He was just about to come climbing over the beginning of the concrete bench booth when his Tequila squeezed out of his back pocket and fell to the ground. He jerked in such a way as if in slow motion, losing his grip on the citadel I was surrounded by, and hit the ground with his bottle...which I'm sure had a worm in it. " 

 This story made me scream laugh. The added hilarity of the chimp just sent me over the edge. However, this is the sort of thing that I KNOW happens in this part of Texas. Nothing is above being "too weird" in this area. Nothing. 

Story has it, Terlingua is named because of three forks of three rivers that join up in that area. Story has it that it is also called "Three Tongues," because English, Spanish, and a Native American language was spoken there at one time. 

In the Texas Almanac, the inspiration of writing the initial question to my Facebook Friends, states that rare earth elements are found here. Terlingua was "booming" back in the late 1800's and early 1900's because of a Cinnabar mine located there. The ruins of it are still very much present and a frequent hotspot for the brave paranormal adventuring types. Cinnabar is also called "Quick Silver," and Quick Silver is also called: Mercury. Not to be outdone, but Uranium is also located within the depths of the soil in Terlingua. In fact, there are so many rare earth elements found in this area that at one point the owners of some of the land there back in the early 1900's made close to 36 Million dollars. No joke. 

Terlingua is close to Marfa, which is also by Big Bend, which is also by one of the largest observatories in the world, the McDonald Observatory. Locals (now 250 of them) claim to be desensitized to the weirdness of this area and in fact, it is the sole reason they moved, quite literally, to the middle of nowhere. There are many rumors that the large influx of Scandinavian people who opened businesses in this area are not humans at all, but are what UFO enthusiasts have been reporting for decades: Nordic Aliens. 

Before you laugh that one off, make a note that several high level military officials before they passed away, gave what's called, "Death Bed Confessionals," in the form of recorded testimonials or by writing a Tell-All book. One such book is from Col. William Tompkins. He spoke very plainly and coherently regarding the very real and apparently "known" helpers of highly classified projects that were human looking people but not from Earth. He called them "Nordics." 

Another is a Nuclear Astrophysicist named Charles Hall who published a series of books that were located in the fiction category so as to not raise an eyebrow of any government officials who he feared would come after him or his family for spilling the "alien beans."  Those books are titled, "Millennial Hospitality." (there are several volumes) 

Charles Hall, in recent years, felt more comfortable speaking directly/bluntly regarding his experiences. There exists one of the most gripping interviews I've ever seen on a documentary made by an independent film studio, Gravitas. The title of that interview/film is, "UFO Chronicles: Area 51 Exposed," and another called, "Walking with Tall Whites."  

*side note: For you resolution snobs out there, just let that go. The editor of the film doesn't do Charles many favors as far as lighting or music bumpers, but ignore all that. It's the substance that's worth paying attention to.*

I suggest watching the plain and simple interview style film first. I could go on and on about this but- Trust me, there's more "out there" than not out there regarding Nordic looking ET's living among us. I'm very discerning about the source of such claims because... Where there is Truth,  you will find equal amounts of disinformation lurking in the wings. Inevitably making he skeptic "throw the baby out with the bath water."  

Here are some images I found of the weirdest (to me) place in Texas. Terlingua. 

A typical night colorscape in Terlingua. 

                                     Submarine house anyone?

How about a "Prada Store" that is merely a piece of 

roadside art? Why not. It's Terlingua! 

More modern places to stay than the haunted ruins of Terlingua? Sure! This is called "Basecamp." Yes, you can rent one of these places. I suggest looking at the photographs and then think, "the town has very tall Nordic looking people in it who own all the businesses and everything looks like it's from space... huh! Well I'll be." 

Real sign. Real possible danger. Just let them cross the road, it's in your best interest to just let that happen. Oh and yeah, look both ways. Always. 

Rush hour in Terlingua.

Very hip and cool restaurants painted pink... Note: There are many vegetarian restaurants in Terlingua. Why? Nordic looking people own those. Remember Star Trek folks... Vulcans don't eat meat. 

 

 Before I make this article longer than the landscape of Big Bend, I figure I'll close it out with a few more juicy places that were mentioned in the thread on my Facebook post. 

Tammy M suggests looking into two places: 

One being Aurora, Texas.  

In April of 1897, the Dallas Morning News (or at that time called Herald) published the article about the incident in Aurora, Texas. Ironically enough, I think my own Grandmother was born there or one of her siblings was, I can't remember... I digress....

The local rural farming community saw a strange looking flying machine that crashed in a field close to a well known farmer's water well. The pilot (as they called him) died in the crash. Being that they are the decent human beings they are, they gave this pilot a proper burial in the local cemetery. The gravestone was carved with the image of the flying machine he crashed in. Descriptions of the pilot were exactly what you'd think they would be. 

Here's an excerpt from the 1897 article along with a photocopy scan of the actual newspaper. 

My personal experience with Aurora Texas: 

A very good friend of mine had a little shindig out in Aurora, Texas back a few years ago when her and her husband were going to be moving to San Diego. He was in the military and I worked with her at a Fort Worth local broadcast studio. I was stoked to go to this Going Away party for many reasons, but one of those reasons was a chance to "feel out" this strange little city and hopefully go by the cemetery to catch a glimpse of the headstone of "Ned" the "pilot" of an "airship from beyond." 

Much to my dismay, the headstone had been stolen and there was a reward for anyone with information regarding just whom took this Texas treasure. 

I'll never forget that night I was in Aurora. Back country roads and zero cell reception, it was an act of faith to try in the dark to find my way to the main road that leads out of this town. 

When I pulled away after saying my farewells, I saw the dirt road and a thick mist was blanketing this pitch black road that hopefully leads somewhere. 

I saw what I thought were thousands of rocks in the road, but soon, and sadly, and creepily realized they weren't rocks but were instead thousands upon thousands of FROGS. Old Testament style. Biblical plague level frogs. Being one of those people that will deploy an airbag inadvertently braking for a squirrel, I couldn't see a way to effectively drive at all with so many frogs in the road! 

I cracked the window to try and, I don't know, yell at them to move? Yeah, that didn't work. 

The fog was getting thicker and my phone battery draining by the second. I had to get out of this place. 

I drove as slowly as I could but I could still hear the squishing of these poor frogs under my tires. Horrifying. Absolutely horrifying. 

When I got back to my apartment which was right by DFW airport, I shuddered to think of what carnage could possibly be schlacked on the undercarriage of my Mercedes. 

I immediately texted my friend who I figured was still somewhere or had recently left Aurora. 

I said, "hey, omg. Those frogs! Did you guys have to kill thousands of frogs to get out of there?" 

She texted me back a while later saying, "um, no? Where were you? What road did you take to the main road?" 

I told her. 

She claimed that there were no frogs, no fog, and questioned if I was sober. 

I was very much sober. I had one beer with dinner but that was hours and hours before. 

And I do mean ONE. ONE beer. Maybe not even a full beer!  

I was more interested in talking about the Aurora Alien with my friend's relatives than I was in getting sauced. So... the frogs? I don't know. There were hundreds of thousands of them in the road. I couldn't avoid running over them and yet, when I looked at the undercarriage of my car... NADA. Nothing. Not even bug guts on the headlamps! You Win Aurora! I was officially creeped out and there's still no explanation for any of it. 

  Last story but maybe the most bizarre and hilarious one, though I don't know if I can beat the Terlingua Chilli Cook Off story sent to me by Doran. In the spirit of a good putting a good bow on this blog, I'll tell you one more. 

Garland Texas- IHOP- 1995

*This story is my story and it is not only true, but there are witnesses to it. Many witnesses.* 

I was a senior at Garland High School in 1995, and like most high school kids of that era, (especially Theatre kids) the International House of Pancakes was our chosen location to plot a worldwide takeover of our enormous talent. I spend almost 4 nights a week sitting in the smoking section with my fellow talented/totally nerdy friends writing screenplays, comedy sketches, and laughing... A lot. 

There were the "regular clientele" of IHOP in Garland Texas late at night. Mostly career alcoholics, that group of Texans who want to secede from the US, and the sad divorcée waitresses who had grown sons in prison but knew your first name when you came in the door. 

Strange happenings always went on at this IHOP. There was a chainsmoker there every single night who was a dead ringer for Abe Lincoln. In fact, we called him Abe. To his face.  He never seemed to mind and in retrospect, we all kind of wondered if he was an actual living person? Who knows? 

One night I was there with my close friend, her brother, and another friend(who may read this)... 

We had an ongoing joke that was pretty stupid, but it was also pretty funny. I never cursed as a teenager nor did I make it a habit of ever disrespecting any adult.  My friends thought this was hilarious and kind of a novelty quirk I had. They were typical 90's semi-goth yet not really brooding teenagers. When anyone came to join our table and slipped out a swear word but "caught themselves" and apologized for it... I would stand up and say, "My work here is done." I would just make zero expression and leave the table. (usually I just hid in the bathroom until my friends sufficiently dramatized this real-time sketch to the unsuspecting victim who joined our band of assholes.)   

I mean come on... it's pretty funny. 

Here's where the paranormal shit comes into play... 

This kind of douche bag sort of guy invited himself to sit down at our table. My friend's brother knew him but nobody else did. With him came 3 more people who "helped themselves" to our social gathering by pulling up chairs. I was annoyed but figured it was a primo time to pull the ol' "my work here is done" joke. Sure as shit, it was perfect timing. One of the girls who was dating this douchebag guy said "and I was like Fuck that."  Then she immediately corrected herself because she said it super loud, and uttered the words I wanted to hear...."Sorry, pardon my French."  

I placed the napkin on the table, stood straight up, and said, "My work you see, is now completed." (said in a monotone robotic sounding voice)  I walked in my calculated robotic sort of way through the double doors separating the smoking from non-smoking areas and went to the restroom until I could hear them physically leave IHOP.  I'm laughing as I'm typing this because it's so absurd. 

Okay, moving on... I waited and finally my friend comes into the restroom and says, "dude, they bailed." 

We laughed and I went back to the table to sit down. We laughed and laughed and laughed. 

I started feeling kind of uncomfortable in my lower leg. It was kind of stinging or tingling in a weird way but I ignored it and finally we paid our check of toast and coffee and went to my truck to leave. 

I drove a very tiny truck. With 3 people in the cab, it was sardine town. If there were 4 people, someone was sitting on someone's lap, period.  

We all pile in my tiny truck and were still laughing pretty hard about the way the joke played out and then I felt this stabbing pain in my left leg. I audibly yelped, "OWW! What in the...." My friends, squeezed like sardines next to me said, "what is going on, you okay?"  I was trying to reach down to massage my calf muscle and then I gasped so loudly that one of my friend's looked like she was going to cry. 

I cursed. 

I said, "what in the hell is going on? No I'm not playing around what the f*** is happening."  Silently my friends stared at me as though I was about to say "gotcha!" No, this was no joke. 

I felt down and felt something massive and impossible jammed into my pant leg. I started to hyperventilate because I didn't know what I was feeling, and I couldn't see anything because the bench seat was hugged up right to the steering wheel. (it was broken) 

I told my friends to get out of the truck. I yelled at them to get out. They fell out of the truck like it was a clown car.  They backed up and gave me distance to get out and inspect what was going on. 

Inside of my pant leg (and I know how this is going to sound but I swear under oath that this is the 100% truth) was one of those industrial sized rolls of toilet paper. 

Not a roll of toilet paper. One of the big industrial sized spheres of corporate f***ing toilet paper was supernaturally placed inside my semi-snug pant leg. 

My leg was still in the pant leg, obviously, but along with it this massive industrial roll of toilet paper. It hurt so bad I wanted to actually die. I was losing all circulation in my lower leg and I started freaking out. 

My friends TO THIS DAY  will still say, "that happened Mel... that actually happened."  

I had to go home and my friends came with me to bear witness to this bizarre freakshow of a  paranormal experience. My Grandma was still up (she stayed up late everynight) and there was no bullshitting her.  She was tough as nails, and she was extremely tuned in but also refused to talk about "weird things." She believed that by speaking of "it," "it" invited more of the same. 

My Grandma said, "what on Earth Melodee is goin' on? How did you manage to get somthin' like 'at in your britches? Well, you just ruined them britches is all, just ruined 'em!" 

My friends and I were frantically speaking over one another trying to tell her the story of what happened. She squinted, like a silent inspector of the weirdness, and looked for a precision instrument to use to pry this impossible thing out. 

Nothing worked, my leg was purple.  Finally, she resorted to a razor blade out and sliced my pant leg open. 

**Let me be clear... the circumference of the material that made up my pant leg didn't cover 1/4 of this industrial toilet paper roll. **

My Grandma was sufficiently weirded out and then said, "drop it Melodee, just drop it. I ain't gonna hear about this mess anymore y'hear? Need to pray to the good Lord about all this stuff." 

My friend's tried to tell her calmly what occurred before this odd incident happened. 

 My Grandma said the following...

"Well, maybe you made the guardian angel of one of them other kids rightly mad and they decided to pull a fast one on you!."   True story bruh. 

Texas holds many mysteries and too many to get into in just this one article. I hope to write another one soon and include stories from my Dad and others who have witnessed crazy things and experienced what seems to be a dream in some of these lesser known areas of Texas. I could spend the next year writing about my own experiences and I still wouldn't be close to telling them all. If you all like this, then I'll be obliged to write a 'part two' to this one. 

The point to this article was simple... 

We have to take the time to explore the world we live in and listen to the stories of the past and the present so we can make some sense of how we got to this time, in this space of existence. There is no meme or anything on TV that can come close to entertaining the mind more than allowing curiosity to take you on a journey that your rational mind is desperately trying to talk you out of taking. 

Jump into the rabbit hole and as my hilarious friend Mike Squires once said, "Don't tie off first."