"Hello, my name is Jean Laboide. I just found your blog and am immensely relieved to find that what I saw wasn’t just a figment of my imagination, or some sort of potent long lasting hallucination. Back during spring break, in 1988, me and seven room mates + others from emerson college were making our way up to montreal. On the way up, one of our buddies had a major epileptic attack and we split the group, so two (myself and Craig Johnson) of us could stay with him until his family could come for him and the rest would get to the hotel before we lost our reservations. We couldn’t make it in time so we stopped at a hotel near the border, in a town called Jonesboro in Maine. The hotel we were staying at was called the blue berry patch motel. The rooms were all filled up, so the guy gave us a discount and keys to a cabin in a wooden thicket. We went to sleep quickly, but halfway through the night I heard craig get up. I rolled over back to bed, but he shook me awake and asked me if he’d come with me to use the crapper in the main building, since it was a dark walk and pretty long. We left, and I saw him to the main building but walked back to the cabin. On the walk back, was where I saw it. The thicket of woods wasn’t very big, but it was really really dense. I was walking along the path when I heard something rustle in the underbrush. I looked up, and saw this dark guy staring at me from the limb of one of the trees. It smelled like garbage left out in the heat for a few days, when it starts getting maggots all over the bag. It really creeped me out, so I ran back to the cottage and grabbed a bread knife and just sat there, waiting.
When I woke up the next morning, craig wasn’t back yet. I tried the main building, but after hours of searching called in the sheriffs department. When I described the guy in the tree, with the split face, and black hair, the local authority started acting oddly. They started a manhunt along with the fire department and brought in some people from the local towns, but all they ended up finding after three days was his jacket and a pair of aviators.
A few things stood out for me when they did the search. Everyone had a firearm, no dogs were brought in, and they never announced a manhunt in the newspaper. They used signal flares too, you could see them shooting them off every couple of hours. They even got rid of the paperwork for everything, the hotels shut down, and the police don’t have any record that I was ever interviewed.
I don’t know what to do. I was afraid to email you, because of what they’ve been saying, that talking about it invokes it, brings it back. For a while I had nightmares. I used to see that thing, staring at me through dark windows, or along the highway, just crouching in trees. It went away when I moved to the city, but I refuse to leave Boston anymore. I don’t drive on the highway, I always think that the car’ll break down and I’ll end up trapped, with that thing circling me in the woods. I fly everywhere now.
Please, do I still have anything to fear? I still have nights where I wake up from nightmares with that thing. Do I really need to keep barring the windows, in case I see it peering in at me?
If it’ll help, I made some sketches of the thing. My therapist said I should try to vent my fears through art, but I gave up on it a few years ago. I might’ve saved a few in storage, so I’ll try to dig them out."- As a note, Jean, I am unsure myself whether or not you have anything to fear. Some days, I am convinced that these are all coincidences, other days, I am not.
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