Chain light and flying dogs.

I'm writing this, not because I'm trying to make believers out of everyone.

Those that would believe what I have to say probably already believed before I came along,

and the ones that don't believe me probably never will.

I can't change that, and I doubt if anything ever will.

But at least I'll sleep easier knowing that everyone, or at least everyone who hears this,

will know to watch out for things.

Stuff is out there. More stuff than you ever imagined. More stuff than I ever imagined. I'll tell you

that. I was always slow to make fun of people who told stories that were hard to swallow. I wasn't

there, so I never felt

that I had the right to call any man a liar. I believed some of those storytellers to be

stretching things a little, but I always figured that something had happened, but over time

they just got better at telling about it. You could see in their eyes as they told these things

that whatever they had run up on had really rattled them. You can make up stories, but you can't

make up the look they had on their faces. It was sort of like catching a really good fish. There's

no doubting that the fish was caught, but the more the story gets told, the bigger

the fish gets.

Or it being cold on the opening day of deer season.

Sure it was cold, but after the tenth and twelfth telling of what happened that day, it'll

be nearly below zero with a blizzard on the way. But what never changes is the way a person looks

when they're telling you their story. The look on their face will tell you whether you need to

really pay attention or not. It won't be the words. It'll be the face. Just so you'll know,

...