I am in upstate New York in Salem, Salem, New York.

It is just about 11 o'clock here as I walk down this dirt road.

It's very chilly, maybe like 12 degrees out, but I wanted to come out here before it got

truly untenable and take a look up at the night sky.

I don't know if other people feel this way, but when you look up at the night sky, I find

it very disturbing to actually take a moment and think about what it means to be a little

person on a little rock floating in billions and billions and billions of stars.

It is a strangely confusing experience to actually try and even situate yourself in that.

And I've always found it slightly unnerving.

Clearly, I hear the sound of my cell phone, like interacting with the recorder, just

even sort of has its own spooky resonance.

Oh my god.

So, I wish I could say that I planned this and this was like all part of an elaborate

thing, but I assume that's coyotes, but I really don't know.

I really don't know.

That sounds wild.

Well, look today, today we, the god, the spookiness of this recording has gone exponentially higher.

The phone interacting with the thing, the coyotes in the background, I'm out of here, man.

Listen, today we're, we asked the staff at Atlas, I'm just reading this off my phone now.

We asked the staff at Atlas Obscura to tell us about places where they encountered something

unexplainable, something that made them feel cosmically small.

Maybe it was something they couldn't understand, maybe it was something that later they found

...