At the time there were lots of BigFoot sitings in the area. Being an imaginative child (and scared sh**tless by that stupid BigFoot movie where he puts his arm through the window), I had night terrors, listening for BigFoot to come.
And then one night I heard him. He was walking around outside my ground-level window, crunching on the rocks in the flower bed. Terrified, I slithered out of bed, across the floor and into the family room. From there I could look out the sliding glass doors, and sure enough, there was his shadow in the moonlight. I huddled at the bottom of the stairs, too frightened to turn my back and run up (they were open steps and BigFoot could've grabbed my foot).
In the classic way of all anticlimaxes, what moved in front of the window were...elk. They'd been eating the strawberries. Elk.
This whole event was so traumatic, that I still get a shiver down my spine when I read anything about BigFoot. Like this from Boing Boing or this about a Malaysian BigFoot.
Even now, I hate sitting in front of windows at night....
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