The Pomfret Bogman Archives
"I headed out for a walk on a brisk October morning. The Pomfret Bogman was something that I had heard of before but never believed in. I was 61 years old at the time and with Flower, my Golden Retriever at my side, we went for a walk to wake up and get the blood flowing.
Suddenly, my usually calm dog partner started barking and jumping toward a particular direction of the woods. There was something that I couldn't see but I trusted her instinct.
As I squinted my eyes and kept my dog close, I saw something lurking amongst the trees. Wet, dripping, strange, yet difficult to see, as if it blended into the woods and was one with it. I immediately knew that we were not welcome there and Flower and I ran faster than we ever have to get back to our car.
I am not a superstitious person, but if you ask me, The Bogman is real. It is not dangerous but also does not want to you to be on his property. I implore you to tread lightly and leave him alone."
Christopher Bombach - Witness, 1996
"This is my first time telling the story to anyone. I was in college during the late nineties; I went to a small private school in Massachusetts. My roommate sophomore year, whom I'll call "Shannon", was very easygoing and even though we had differing interests we were good roommates.
We had a long weekend coming up during the second semester, and she asked if I'd like to take a camping trip near her hometown in Connecticut. It would be me, Shannon, a friend of hers from high school, and her sister "Susan" (who was still a senior in high school). I'd never been camping before and it seemed like a fun girls weekend, so I offered to drive and pitch in for firewood.
It wasn't a long drive and the forest was beautiful, densely wooded and lots of trails for hiking. Things were really great the first night, we had fun setting up camp and doing the whole s'mores thing. It wasn't until the next day that things got strange.
When we woke up that morning, the weather was overcast and cool. We decided a hike would be the best way to warm up and maybe the weather would turn by the afternoon. Since we were setting out early, we picked a long trail. Shannon and her friend were quite athletic so we lost sight of them after a while. The weather was still cool and strangely, it seemed to be getting cooler. The two of us decided to sit down for a water break. We were passing the time chatting about college and majors, the usual things, when we both heard a *snap* in the distance. We stopped talking and looked across the trail in the direction of the sound. It was then I realized that the trees off the trail were shrouded in mist, making it difficult to see anything more than a few yards away. We stayed quiet and listened, and shortly there was another *snap*, like the sound of a branch being broken in half. This one was closer, perhaps just a few feet beyond where the forest was swallowed up by the mist. In those long moments I could hear Susan slowly putting her water bottle back in her bag; I think we were both ready to run. That's when I saw something that made my heart stick in my throat.
Across the trail, perhaps ten yards away, there was a particularly large old oak. Slowly, silently, as though growing from the bark itself, I saw the shape of a hand curling around the trunk. It was higher up than you would expect a hand to be, and larger. It seemed to be covered in mist itself. The hand was followed by a massive arm covered in what looked like moss; it was dark green, patchy with brown. Then, even higher, what must have been the top of its head began to emerge - covered in vines and roots, tangled up with more moss and earth. Whatever it was, it seemed to be trying to look at us from behind the tree...
By instinct I didn't wait to find out what sort of face it had. That was when I grabbed Susan's arm and ran us back down the trail the way we had come, not stopping until we reached the campsite. We hunkered down in the tent and didn't speak about what we saw. When Shannon and her friend returned an hour or so later, Susan explained that she wasn't feeling well and wanted to go home. Thankfully we all ended up leaving because the weather only got worse; I don't know what I would have said had the other two wanted to stay. It was especially odd considering that the forecast on local news had predicted such a nice weekend.
I didn't really keep in touch with Shannon after sophomore year; Susan went to another college, but as far as I know they're both doing well. It wasn't until many years later that I heard these folklore stories about a man living in the Connecticut woods near the swamplands. Was that who we saw, or was it just the mist playing tricks on our eyes? Either way, I've not been camping since."
"Sybil M." (real name redacted) - 1998, via Citypages
"I worked in the park as a supervisor and lived in a trailer on the grounds. I spent the majority of my life there, caring for the campground, trails, and the safety of the visitors. Now, I will sound crazy when I say this, but I always believed in The Bogman and respected that we were on his land.
There were nights where I would hear a moaning, and perhaps a scratch at my door, but I always said out loud, 'Aldus, I mean you no harm, and thank you for allowing us to enjoy your property.' The sounds would stop and I then heard a shuffling noise as if he was retreating back to the woods."
Harlton Chenewith - Witness, 1989
"I went for a quick trail run in the morning in the park. I had earbuds in and was listening to music and focused on my feet. I had never heard of The Bogman but something quickly ran across the path before me and surprised me. I believe that there was a hiss and it was gone as quickly as it appeared. I had to stop and pull up, take the music out of my ears, and to try to understand what I was seeing. My run ended there and I slowly walked back to my car, looking over my shoulder the entire time."
Kirsten Samuels - Witness, 2001