The Silence Before the Scream: A North Georgia Bigfoot Sighting
- Angela Ashton Author
- Mar 1
- 5 min read
Bigfoot Sighting Report -- Taken by: Southern SASquatch Expeditions
Report Location: Chattahoochee National Forest, near Blood Mountain, North Georgia
Date: October 14
Time: Approximately 2:17 a.m.
Weather: Dense fog, 43°F, no wind, full moon partially obscured
I didn’t go into the woods looking for anything strange. I’ve camped all over North Georgia — from the Cohuttas to the edges of the Appalachian Trail — and I’ve never once felt afraid until that night.
I had hiked up near Blood Mountain earlier that afternoon and set up camp off a lesser-used spur trail. Around midnight the forest went unnaturally quiet. Not “night quiet.” I mean dead silent. No crickets or owls. Even the wind stopped. It felt like the woods eerily stopped breathing.
At about 2:00 a.m., I woke up to what I first thought was a tree cracking like they do after a hard freeze. A deep, explosive CRACK like green wood being twisted apart. Then another and another. Not falling — just snapping. It sounded deliberate as if someone were snapping wood for a fire, or like I said, the way a tree snaps after a hard freeze. I grabbed my flashlight and stepped out of my tent.
That’s when I smelled it. Rotten earth. Wet dog. Something metallic and sour, like old blood on rusted iron. From about 60 yards downhill, I heard heavy bipedal footsteps like a heavy man stomping across the ground. It was slow steps that were getting closer. Each step sounded like someone dropping a 200-pound sandbag into wet leaves.
Then came the growl. It wasn’t a bear. I’ve heard bears. This was layered — like two tones at once, and difficult to explain. It was a low, deep and vibrating sound in my chest. It felt like it went through me instead of just into my ears.
My flashlight beam caught movement between two trees.
At first I thought it was a shadow playing tricks on me — but shadows don’t step sideways like that. That's when it leaned out from behind a white oak and looked at me.
It was at least 8 feet tall and had massive shoulders. The head wasn’t round like a human — it sloped back, almost coming to a cone shaped point. The arms hung down past its knees. The hair was long and dark brown, but streaked with silver along the shoulders. Not glossy fur — it was coarse, matted, uneven.
Its eyes reflected amber in the beam and it was staring straight at me.
Not curious or confused.....More like calculating. I couldn’t move....my body locked up. I didn’t feel fear the way you normally do — it was like something primal switched on. My brain screamed: You are prey, and I was literally terrified.
It took one step forward into a patch of moonlight.
Its chest was enormous. I could see scars across the left side — long, pale lines through the hair. Its hands were huge, fingers thick and long, and when it flexed them I could hear the joints pop from where I stood.
Then it did something I’ll never forget....
It let out a blood curdling scream.
Not a roar..... A scream! It was a high, piercing, almost human but stretched and distorted scream. It echoed across the valley and came back at us from three different directions as it bounced off the mountains.
And then if it could get any worse, something answered farther up the ridge. Same tone, but a different pitch. That's when we realized there was more than one.
The one in front of me tilted its head slightly — like it was listening to something. Then it slammed its fist against a tree trunk. The impact shook leaves down around it.
That broke whatever trance I was in and I stumbled backward toward my tent. I couldn't see where the rest of the guys from my group were at this point.
The moment I moved, it moved faster.
Three strides and it covered half the distance between us.
I dove into my truck instead of my tent — keys were in the console. As I slammed the door, something hit the side door panel so hard the entire vehicle rocked.
I started the engine and hit the headlights.
For a split second it was fully illuminated.
Broad face. Deep-set eyes. Flat, wide nose. Lips pulled back just enough to show teeth — not fangs, but thick, human-like teeth. It didn’t look like an animal....it was strange how human it looked, yet not human at the same time.
It definitely looked like something that knew exactly what it was doing.
It stepped backward into the trees as if it didn’t want the light on it.
As I peeled out down the forest road, I saw something keeping pace through the trees for at least 200 yards. Moving parallel and seemingly effortless.
The next morning I reported it to a local ranger station near Dahlonega. They told me they’d “heard similar stories.” One ranger asked exactly where I’d been camped, wrote it down, and then said quietly:
“You’re not the first this month to make a report.”
When I went back three days later with a friend in daylight, we found:
• A snapped sapling about 8 inches thick, twisted not broken
• Footprints roughly 17 inches long, 7 inches wide, five toes visible
• My truck had a dent on the side panel shaped like something struck it with force — about 4 feet off the ground
I have camped my entire life.
I will never camp alone in North Georgia again.
And here’s the part that keeps me awake:
When I review the audio recording my phone accidentally captured while in my pocket… at the 37-second mark — after the scream — you can clearly hear something in the distance that sounds like laughter. It sounded like a witch echoing laughter through the forest.
I don't know what we saw that not.....Not animal. Not human.
But close enough to both that it shouldn’t exist.
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Angela Ashton's Book, The Stillness Between the Trees is a quiet, immersive story rooted in the forests, the in-between moments, and the experiences that don’t easily fit into ordinary explanations. Drawing from her own life, Angela Ashton weaves memory, mystery, and reflection into a narrative shaped by time spent in the woods, encounters that left lasting questions, and the deep sense of stillness that only nature can offer.
The book unfolds as both a personal journey and a contemplative exploration—of solitude, intuition, and the unseen threads that connect people to wild places. Through atmospheric storytelling, Ashton blurs the line between lived experience and folklore, inviting readers into moments of heightened awareness where the forest feels alive, watchful, and quietly communicative. Bigfoot lore, Appalachian landscapes, and the emotional weight of personal transformation are woven together without sensationalism, allowing the mystery to remain intact.
At its heart, The Stillness Between the Trees is less about proving what exists and more about honoring what is felt—those experiences that linger, change us, and resist tidy explanations. It’s a reflective, haunting read for those drawn to forest mysteries, personal truth, and the profound calm that sometimes appears only when the world grows quiet and the trees are listening. 🌲
Readers across generations find meaning in this story in different ways. Teens and young adults are drawn to its sense of discovery, identity, and the quiet courage it takes to trust one’s own experiences in a world quick to dismiss them. Older readers often connect more deeply with its reflective tone, its exploration of memory and time, and the comfort of returning to moments that shaped who we become. Across ages, the book resonates with anyone who has felt changed by the natural world, curious about the unknown, or comforted by the stillness that lives between the trees.
very cool story