FBI Secret Archives: Case No. 567 - Bigfoot

### **FBI Secret Archives: Case No. 567 - Bigfoot**

**March 3, 1974**

The dusty file sat on Special Agent Thomas Harper’s desk. The bold red stamp “CONFIDENTIAL” stood out like a wound on the cover. Thomas didn’t immediately notice the case number, but when his eyes finally glanced at the digits, something tightened inside him.

**567.**

This file wasn’t supposed to exist. The archives on paranormal activity had been shut down in the 1960s after several agents died under strange circumstances. But this case… It wasn’t just open. It felt alive.

Harper scanned the empty office and reluctantly opened the folder. The first sheet was an aged report, yellowed with time.

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**"February 14, 1959. King County, Washington.**

**Report: Disappearance of a group of hunters. Tracks of an unidentified creature found. Strange markings on trees. Smell of sulfur and wet fur.**"

---

Thomas felt a chill run down his spine. He turned the page and found several black-and-white photographs. The forest. Broken trees, as if something impossibly heavy had crushed them. Footprints in the snow — the size of a damned shovel.

And in one of the photos… a barely discernible figure. Tall, inhuman. Branches obscured the details, but it was the **eyes** that grabbed him — two white dots that glowed, even in the old photograph.

**“What the hell?”** Harper muttered.

He hated cases like this. The stories of Bigfoot had always been tourist legends and freakshow fodder, but people still vanished in those mountains. And now, he had evidence that couldn’t be ignored.

---

**March 6, 1974**

The next day, Thomas received his orders: head to the Cascades. Another missing person — a ranger named Johnny Marlowe. His radio had broadcast strange noises before cutting out: heavy breathing, the scraping of claws against metal, and… a roar.

**“Are you sure it’s not a bear?”** Harper asked his superior.

**“Why don’t you go down there and find out? That’s an order, agent.”**

---

The forest greeted Harper with an oppressive silence. His partner, Agent Casey White, glanced nervously around.

**“Something’s wrong here, Tom. This place… it’s empty, like it’s dead.”**

Thomas nodded. The air was heavy, carrying the smell mentioned in the report — wet fur and sulfur. Every step in the snow sounded as though someone was walking just behind them, mirroring their movements.

After a couple of hours, they stumbled upon Marlowe’s camp. The tent had been shredded to pieces. Blood stained the snow.

**“Oh god…”** Casey whispered, pointing at a tree.

Deep gouges marred the trunk, each nearly two feet long. Harper ran his finger over the marks and looked down. Footprints. Massive footprints.

**“This isn’t a bear,”** he breathed.

**“Look!”** Casey shouted, raising her pistol.

At the edge of the clearing stood a shadow. A figure, nearly ten feet tall. Its outline was blurry, as if wrapped in mist. But the eyes… those two white lights stared directly at them.

Harper froze. The shadow let out a deep, guttural growl that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

**“Run!”** he yelled.

They tore through the underbrush, heedless of the branches whipping at their faces. Their boots sank into the snow, but behind them, the **footsteps** continued. Heavy. Steady. As though something enormous was walking in their tracks.

---

**File Closed: March 15, 1974**

Special Agent Thomas Harper was never found. Agent Casey White was discovered three days later in a state of deep catatonia. Her final words were:

**“The eyes. It was watching me. It… it will take us all.”**

---

On the last page of Case No. 567, the FBI director’s signature was scrawled alongside a short note:

**“Close permanently. Categorize under anomalous incidents.”**

The file returned to the archives, where it gathers dust to this day.

But in the Cascade forests, footprints are still occasionally found. And the roar can still be heard.