Decemystery (2024) 7: The Purple Monster

 

I want to paint a picture for you, dear reader. I want you to imagine that you do what I do; you write about the weird stories you’ve read online, in books, and heard in various videos you’ve listened to throughout your life. You’ve amassed a library’s worth of the craziest stories that anyone can imagine—their validity notwithstanding.

Now, I want you to imagine that you’re talking to a friend—any friend will do—and you get on the topic of your writing. You decide to tell them about how you’ve found a few odd stories that you’re considering covering and that one of them, in particular, is really peculiar. This prompts your friend to ask you, “What’s the weirdest story you’ve ever read?”

For most, this would be a very simple question to answer. Heck, for some people who even know more—and I use this word incredibly loosely—“obscure” cases like the Isdal Woman, you could name at least a few contenders for that title.

Personally, that question is impossible to answer. It seems like each year, there’s a new candidate who challenges something like the Oviedo Dick Monster for the dubious honor of “Weirdest Story I’ve Ever Read.” And if you’re wondering, that case is most likely the case I’d label as the strangest I’ve ever read.

However, I can’t say with absolute certainty because today’s Decemystery entry is a masterpiece in oddness. Is it as weird as that phallic-shaped monstrosity from Florida? No, definitely not. But that doesn’t minimize just how strange it is—not by a long shot. So come along, dear reader; it’s time to delve into the archives of About yet again as we take a look at the story of The Purple Monster!

Decemystery (2024) 6: The Skinless, Yellow-Eyed Creature of Arizona

 

If there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s a good scary story—be it short or long. I’ve said that before, and I will repeat it as many times as I can because it’s the unvarnished truth. Horror has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember; I attribute it to reading the Goosebumps books as a child; the delightfully creepy tales that R.L. Stine weaved were among my favorites. Heck, I still have fond memories of them. I always have, and dang it, I always will!

My friends, on the other hand, are generally not as keen on the genre. Some of them are, but more than a few have told me that some of the cases I’ve covered creep them out. I don’t see what the big deal is. How can you not enjoy stories of people seeing monstrosities that, if proven to exist, would reshape what we know about Earth?

Okay, perhaps that’s a bad question to ask, especially when we’re discussing my friends, who you likely know nothing about. What I can safely say, though, is that today’s Decemystery entry is one that’s as creepy as it is absolutely bewildering. In other words, it’s the norm for this blog. If you expect anything to be normal, you made a wrong turn on Google, Bing, DuckDuckGo, or whatever search engine you use.

As for the story itself, it comes to us from archives of About—the website that I’m sure I’ll give its own tag because of how frequently I visit it. Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe I’ll do that at some point after I’ve finished this year’s Decemystery (assuming I remember to do it).

Anyway, let’s get to the story. Suffice it to say, the thing that caught my eye was the name, and I have to imagine that you, dear reader, also saw that title and either went, “I’m not reading that,” or “Oh, I’m so reading that.” If you fall into the latter category, then come along; it’s time to head to the American Southwest to investigate the case of The Skinless, Yellow-Eyed Creature of Arizona!

Decemystery (2024) 5: The Triangle Man

 

When it comes to the realm of the paranormal, I’m far from the most well-educated person on Earth. Sure, I’ve heard plenty of ghost stories. I know the basics of ghost lore—to some degree, anyway. I know that ghosts aren’t corporeal beings, that they leave behind cold spots, and that they can move stuff. Also, they’re prone to responding to people knocking on walls. I have no idea why, but I think that’s funny.

I learned the basics of ghosts as a child, though, and I’ve since forgotten a lot of other things that would likely be useful when writing about them. I could go back and relearn them, but I’m lazy. Yes, that’s really my excuse. How professional of me.

In recent years, my interest in it has waned considerably. While I still enjoy a good ghost story, I feel like they’re largely the same. A house or some other location where stuff moves around and footsteps are heard when there’s only one person home. If you’re lucky, the person saw an apparition.

That level of sameness makes them a drag to cover. There’s only so much I can handle before I find the energy and love that I pour into writing turning into a sense of obligation. That, for me, is one of the worst feelings in the world because it leads to the driest and blandest write-ups possible. The last thing I want to do is post something that was an obligation and not something that I believe could be enjoyed by the folks who visit this blog.

Those reasons are why I seldom cover paranormal cases. While some can argue that UFO sightings are the same, I find UFOs to be a lot more interesting. Also, there’s a lot more fun to be had in the absurdity of cases about enormous UFOs being seen by one person. To paraphrase CinemaSins, “Nobody who watches the sky for a living saw this thing.”

That said, there are occasionally cases that pique my interest enough to where I need to make an exception. Today marks one of those occasions because it is, without a doubt, one of the most unsettling ghost stories I’ve read in a long time. I mentioned it in yesterday’s Decemystery entry, and I’m going to give it the attention it demands today. This, dear reader, is the disturbing tale of The Triangle Man!

Decemystery (2024) 4: The Triangle Creature

 

If there’s one thing I love about the realm of cryptozoology, it’s that there’s no shortage of weird and inexplicable tales for me to read about. For every relatively normal creature like Bigfoot, there’s a Bagodemon waiting to give me an aneurysm just around the corner.

No, I haven’t recovered from that case a year later.

Anyway, while that metaphorical aneurysm sure as heck drives me nuts at times, I still relish the chaotic nature of cryptozoology and its many oddities. To me, it’s like a comfort zone. I can always count on it to bring me a sense of solace and provide me with something to write about (even if the story is absolute nonsense). So, today, I feel like harkening back to a more classic tale of strangeness.

Today’s story is one that I had intended to cover for one of the Decemysterys last year (I forget which). The exact reason I nixed it also evades me, but I think it’s because I figured I’d be treading similar ground, and I didn’t want to have another write-up that would read like so many others. Funny, I could say the same thing about the numerous UFO stories I covered.

Because it ended up getting nixed, it ended up being a part of Decemystery 2024’s original schedule. Now, if you read the intro to the Nickelodeon Hamster Wheel Broadcast write-up, you may remember that I mentioned that five stories survived the “purge” of that original schedule. I also said that when one of those stories came up, I would mention that. Well, surprise-surprise, this happens to be one of them.

This case is known as The Triangle Creature. Why did it survive? Well, look at that name! How could I not keep it around? Now, enough talk. Come along, dear reader; it’s time for us to head to the Heartland of the United States to discuss one of the greatest-named cryptids out there!

Decemystery (2024) 3: The 8-Foot-Tall Alien of Fort Wayne

 

Anyone who’s known me for even the slightest bit of time knows that if there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s the existence of extraterrestrial life.

In my humble opinion, it’s completely outlandish and downright foolish to think that we’re alone in the universe. While we may not have concrete proof of aliens yet, my tinfoil hat likes to believe that we’ll get a confirmation in my lifetime.

However, despite such adamancy on my end, I don’t blindly believe every single claim made or label every UFO report or sighting as real. After all, it’s remarkably easy to fake both. A creative mind can weave a believable tale, and basic photographic trickery can make a convincing flying saucer image. I’m sure that I could achieve the former if I put my mind to it. The latter less so; I’m certain it would look like trash. Then again, that would be par for the course with most UFO pictures, wouldn’t it?

Anyway, I bring this up because it’s time for us to head back into the realm of extraterrestrials and to do something a little bit different.

You see, in this blog’s life, I’ve covered a lot of weird alien sightings, and I don’t mean traditionally weird. I mean things that are just purely outlandish. I’m talking about stories of aliens that resemble metallic flowers, telepathic brains, beer cans, an “arboreal abomination” (that’s still a wickedly awesome name), multi-colored pyramid, penguins, tree stumps, a giant slug, a cloud, and aliens that apparently carjacked two drunk guys in Idaho.

Today, I want to ease off the weirdness. I know that’s really uncharacteristic of me, but I think it’s healthy if we don’t examine an absurd alien sighting. Instead, I want to look at one that’s just a really tall extraterrestrial. For those who think there won’t be an annual helping of “what kind of alien is this,” don’t worry; there’s a really weird alien sighting planned for near the end of the month. As it stands, though, I want to focus on a more traditional alien sighting.

Hailing from the great state of Indiana, home to the legendary Indianapolis Motor Speedway and more colloquially known as the “Middle Finger of the South,” today’s Decemystery story is The 8-Foot-Tall Alien of Fort Wayne! Come along, dear reader; it’s time to head to the land of the Hoosiers and see if extraterrestrial life walks among us!

Decemystery (2024) 2: The Gargoyle in the Shrubs

If you read yesterday’s write-up to the then, then I mentioned that I would be revisiting a website called “About.com” this month. Well, I mentioned that because—surprise, surprise—we’re visiting it today!

For those who don’t know, I found out about “About” last year while I was looking for stories on sustained_disgust’s Obscure Unsolved Mysteries Iceberg. The site is now defunct, but a lot of incredibly strange and fascinating stories were archived via the Wayback Machine. I covered a plethora of them last year, and I have every intention of going through even more this year.

While that does mean I won’t get to look for additional details online, I’m not too upset. After the 30,113-word-long behemoth that was Decemystery 2024’s inaugural story, I feel like taking it easy and conveying a short and strange tale of the Fortean is preferable to overexerting myself and suffering from severe burnout. The last thing I desire is to have this series go incomplete because I thought it would be a good idea to force myself to do something I don’t want.

Anyway, let’s get back on track. With an archive that has enough material to sustain me for a year, choosing a story is easier said than done. There were numerous cases that I wanted to cover, but I felt that if I went with the first thing I saw, I would miss out on an even better story on another case. Well, lo and behold, that feeling proved to have merit!

As I was eating dinner one night, snooping around About’s archives, I came across a story entitled “Gargoyle in the Shrubs.” This caught my eye for two reasons. The first was that stories of gargoyles are quite interesting. Reports of them are, for some peculiar reason, not unheard of; I would like to do a lengthier write-up on them, but my mental health has an allergy to them, along with writing prior to the halfway point of the year.

The second is that last year, I wrote about a story called The Gargoyle at the Window, which was also from the depths of About’s archives. So, I figured that it would be fun to cover another story about a gargoyle. Who knows, maybe it’ll become a Decemystery tradition, like covering stories from the Conspiracy Iceberg!

Anyway, enough blabbering; it’s time to get into the story. Come along, dear reader, as we dive into the story of The Gargoyle in the Shrubs! Also, doing intros has become much easier since last year’s Decemystery duology.

Decemystery (2024) 1: The Nickelodeon Hamster Wheel Broadcast

Let’s play a game. It’s called “What would Vertigo’s autobiography be called?” Personally, I think it would be entitled “What if My Life Wasn’t a Roller Coaster Designed By Satan?”

The reason for such a morbid title is that, ever since I began this blog, even-numbered years in my life have been plagued by a plethora of obnoxious issues. Meanwhile, odd-numbered years have been generally good. Well, for the most part. 2021 wasn’t very good, but I digress. You can’t win ‘em all, especially when you have undiagnosed and untreated bipolar disorder.

You especially can’t win ‘em all when dealing with brain fog; COVID and hypomania overlapping is just about the most fog-inducing thing I’ve experienced since entering Silent Hill, and it’s because of that fogginess that 2022 was the year without a Decemystery; thank God I made up for it last year. Too bad I developed carpal tunnel syndrome from all of that writing. I still haven’t fixed that, by the way. I wonder how my hands will feel when I finish this year’s Decemystery!

Anyway, what does any of this have to do with the introduction to Decemystery 2024? Well, as you can likely guess based on the comically small number of blog posts this year, bipolar overtook my life again—and so did COVID! Wow, it’s like a greatest hits album from 2022, only the so-called “hits” all suck like black holes.

Thankfully, the album was cut short because it must have been produced by the world’s worst record producer. So I was spared the indignity of dual-action brain fog that made it feel like my brain was the basis for a David Cronenberg remake of John Carpenter’s The Fog. Only instead of disgruntled ghosts, it was a mental illness and respiratory virus.

On the flip side, it’s currently August. That means, once again, I’m on the clock. So, much to my dismay, I had to scrap a lot of the grander and what would have undoubtedly been much lengthier stories that I had wanted to do this year. Maybe they’ll be written about in 2025. Who knows; I’ve always sucked at abiding by a schedule throughout my adult life. Regardless, if you were hoping for me to cover Sam the Sandown Ghost Clown, you’re out of luck.

Despite that setback, five stories managed to survive the purge; I’ll be sure to mention that when I get around to writing about them. Until then, it’s time to finally jump to today’s story. Honestly, it’s one that I, oddly, have never really considered writing about.

Internet mysteries, much like lost media, are, more often than not, something that I turn a blind eye to. There are enough YouTubers who cover them, and my input is far from worthwhile. I know that may seem like I’m selling myself short, but I genuinely do not believe my input means that much when countless other content creators have thrown their two cents into the ring—and they tend to be far better researchers than I am. Also, they have better production quality. All I have is text and still images. They have narration and fancy moving pictures.

However, despite that, there are a few exceptions I’m willing to make. Namely the much sillier and more outlandish Internet mysteries. I’ve also made a couple of exceptions when it comes to lost media, and I have no doubt that I will do so in the future. As for why I made an exception with this particular case, that’s easy. I thought it provided the perfect blend of strangeness and downright goofiness for me to leap back into the world of writing.

In other words, it was all but screaming my name. Thankfully, it didn’t actually do so. If it did, I think I’d have a much more horrifying story to write about.

Anyway, enough rambling. For the sixth time in this blog’s history, it’s time for Decemystery to begin—possibly the fifth time if you wish to count the duology last year as one entity. Personally, I don’t, but I digress once more. Come along, dear reader; it’s time for us to go over the truly odd tale of The Nickelodeon Hamster Wheel Broadcast! And with that, Decemystery 2024 begins now!