Pope Lick

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In the woods just east of Louisville, Kentucky, an old railway bridge cuts through the tree line.

To many, it would appear no different to any other trestle found in the rural US.

But locals believe that this particular overpass is guarded by a goat-like beast so disturbing that it causes those who see it to instantly run for their lives, or in some cases, their deaths.

For more than half a century, the bodies have continued to pile up with no end in sight, leaving people to wonder what truly lurks in the shadows of Poplick Creek.

Tales of mysterious half-man, half-goat monsters have existed for nearly as long as humans have.

In ancient Greece and Rome, they were known as satyrs or fawns and were associated with wildness, revelry, and protection of the woods they inhabited.

The Greeks even had a god, Pan, who was often depicted with the legs and horns of a goat.

In virtually all of the early tales, goat men were depicted as overwhelmingly benevolent.

Later, in Western Europe, the hybrids adopted a far more sinister comportment.

Here, they were primarily associated with the devil.

Rather than protecting the forests they inhabited, they sought to lure passers-by, particularly women, into their domain with a promise of forbidden carnal pleasures.

Intention aside, many argue that the persistence of stories involving goatmen suggests that they exist beyond the realm of myth, and it is far from the only evidence.

The United States is considered home to hundreds of secretive creatures, known collectively as cryptids.

Among these, there is no shortage of goatmen.

Since the middle of the last century, multiple reports have circulated regarding Prince George's County, Maryland, in which people claim to see a 7 foot tall half man, half goat in the vicinity of Fletchertown Road.

In most cases, he is briefly spotted before disappearing into the woods, but there have been claims of him chasing people, killing pets, and potentially wielding an axe to damage cars.

Similar reports emerged from Fort Worth, Texas in the 1970s.

Witnesses described a strange animal with white fur and goat-like features, which they took to calling the Lake Worth monster.

On July the 9th, 1969, a group of picnickers claimed the monster leapt from a tree onto a nearby car, leaving a deep dent in the metal.

In another sighting, the monster allegedly hurled a tyre at a group of people.

likely in an attempt to scare them away from its territory.

Other Hulking Horn goatmen have been spotted in Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Arkansas and Virginia.

Curiously, they are often spotted near roadways, bridges and most importantly, train tracks.

This startling fact brings us to the Poplik monster, which has traditionally been seen on or around the Poplik Railroad trestle.

This steel bridge was built in 1925 by the Southern Railway.

It not only only spans 810 feet or 246 meters but towers more than 90 feet or 27 meters above the creek that gives it its name.

Though the area is heavily forested, it is far from remote.

Kentucky Route 155 lies just a few hundred feet away and South Poplik Road runs parallel to the creek.

Nevertheless, on the right night, a person walking the trestle could be forgiven for thinking they've gone back in time several decades.

The age of the structure, combined with more than 80 years of stories about the goatman who is said to guard the crossing, has drawn hundreds of thrill seekers and paranormal enthusiasts to the trestle.

Of these, 12 have been injured or died whilst at the site.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, most of these were struck by trains, not mutilated by a monster.

But as we'll see, this by no means exonerates the goatman, who many claim chases or lures his victims out onto the trestle for this exact purpose.

Some say they even felt an invisible force beckoning them out onto the bridge despite the apparent danger.

As for the creature itself, most say he stands upright like a man but has the hooved, backwards bent legs of an ungulate.

It also possesses long horns that curl up and away from its head and glint in the moonlight.

Whether it is more man or beast is impossible to tell, but for those who dare to cross the trestle after dark, death is never more than a wrong step away.

Though tales of the Popelick monster began appearing in Kentucky as early as the 1940s, The first story often cited is usually dated to the mid-1950s.

In the summer of 1955, a group of Boy Scouts set up camp near the base of the trestle.

The scout master had determined that the spot would be perfect for their outdoor skills training, as it provided the illusion of being in the wilderness whilst keeping the troop close to town.

It was a chilly night in northern Kentucky, which forced the boys to huddle around the campfire for warmth.

As the evening wore on, a young scout who lived in the area began repeating stories he'd heard from his father.

Apparently local farmers had come to avoid the trestle at night due to what they described as terrifying screams and other strange noises.

Their scout master, a practical man and a firm believer in rational explanations, warned the boy to avoid sharing such nonsense.

He knew full well that it was some of the scouts first time spending the night in the woods, and he didn't want to have to deal with any nightmares.

In fact, he decided to use the opportunity to explain how light and sound work differently in the woods, and how animals like owls, coyotes, and even insects can make noises that sometimes seem scary or even completely alien.

Eventually, the boys calmed down and retreated to their sleeping bags, but as the night deepened, an uneasy stillness fell over the campsite.

Even the crickets and the frogs beside nearby Pope Creek went eerily silent.

That's when the boys heard it.

A scream, unlike anything any of them had ever heard before.

Witnesses later reported that it started low and guttural, then rose to a piercing shriek that was neither human nor animal.

The commotion woke most of the boys, but none of them dared to speak a word lest they risk waking the Scoutmaster.

But they did begin looking around frantically to see what might have made the sound.

That's when one of the scouts, half awake and terrified, pointed to the tree line near where the bridge started.

In the combination of moonlight and residual light from the nearby city, the scouts could see the trestle itself quite clearly.

As their eyes focused, they noticed a tall figure moving through the mist.

It was walking upright, but its posture was hunched and its limbs seemed unnaturally long.

A few of them noted what looked like horns glinting faintly as it proceeded along the elevated tracks.

Suddenly a rustling sound came from behind them and they turned to see that their scout master had indeed heard the noise.

He was now standing there with a torch in his hand.

As he switched it on and shone it on the bridge, the figure turned its head, seemingly looking directly at the camp some 90 feet below.

But when the beam moved to where it had been standing, it caught only iron and wood.

Whatever it was, had gone.

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Sensing the boy's terror but unable to account for what he'd seen, the Scout Master assured them it was just a deer obscured by fog and darkness, and that the light had scared it away.

He sternly told them to go back to bed and return to his tent.

Few of them slept a wink and most refused to take their eyes off the tree line.

When dawn finally arrived a grim silence still hung over the camp.

As the group packed their things one of the boys spotted something unusual further up the slope.

When the scout master went to investigate he found a terrifying sight.

Strewn across the hillside were the remains of several sheep from a nearby farm.

The animals appeared to have been ripped apart, their bodies shredded as if by brute force.

Once again the older man assured the boys, telling them that it was nothing more than an attack by wild dogs or perhaps wolves.

But this time his explanation seemed forced and unconvincing.

Even the young scouts could see that the dozens of strange impressions around the bodies weren't paw prints, but cloven, almost as if a herd of deer deer had run through the site.

But the prints were far too large, and deer don't kill sheep.

The Scoutmaster reported the incident, but local authorities were quick to dismiss the claims.

In the days that followed, the Louisville Courier Journal printed a brief article blaming wild dogs, but by then, even the Scoutmaster had begun to express his doubts.

As the years wore on, the story spread and morphed.

In some versions, it wasn't sheep, but cows.

Others claimed that the creature had actually approached or attacked the boys, but the core concept, the half-man, half-goat living on or near the trestle, remained.

In December of 1993, 19-year-old Christina Butz and a small group of friends decided to visit the infamous Poplick Trestle.

Along with them were were three boys, including 17 year old Robert Gray and 21 year old David Paul Smith.

Like so many kids before them, the six friends were drawn to the bridge out of a combination of boredom and morbid curiosity.

They'd grown up hearing about the Goatman, the half-human creature said to haunt the bridge and lure trespassers to their deaths.

In fact, by the early 90s, at least four people had died and two more had been injured whilst exploring the area, most of them having been struck by trains.

None of them truly believed that a monster had anything to do with it.

Still, they wanted to see the trestle for themselves.

After helping each other scale the eight-foot chain link fence that had been installed by local authorities, the group made its way up the steep embankment where the bridge met the tracks.

By all accounts, the night was cold and calm, the only sound being the faint rush of the creek below below and the occasional car making its way along the adjacent road.

It was at this point that someone suggested the group try to walk across.

Attempting such a feat would have been dangerous even in summertime, but in the winter, the frost that collected on the ties presented a particularly hazardous challenge.

Adding to the risk was the fact that the gaps between the ties were nearly two feet wide in some places, more than enough room for the teens to fall through.

After spending some minutes egging each other on, the kids eventually worked up the nerve to start the crossing.

This meant that once they stepped out onto the bridge structure itself, they would have to walk more than 800 feet before reaching the other side.

Christina reported that at first they were laughing, taking turns and teasing one another about who would be first to spot the goatman.

Then as they passed the halfway point, she began feeling very strange.

She would later say that she felt beckoned forwards, as if some instinct was screaming silently from inside her head.

As she focused on it, she began to literally hear a whisper resounding in her mind.

It was saying her name.

Instantly, a rush of panic welled up inside her.

She turned her body around, around but it was too late.

It was at this point that she noticed a faint hum emitting from the tracks, a hum that quickly grew into a noticeable vibration.

She started to plead with her friends to turn back with her but was interrupted by a deafening hornblast.

As the six turned back the way they'd been walking, they saw that a train was now coming straight at them.

Immediately, panic erupted.

With no platforms or ledges beside the track, the group had no choice but to try to outrun the oncoming locomotive.

They turned and began sprinting back, but in the confusion Christina slipped, wedging her foot between two of the ties.

Despite tugging frantically, she wasn't able to free her leg from the trestle's grasp.

Seeing her struggling, David turned back towards her.

Upon reaching her position, he dropped to his knees and began pulling at her trapped foot as the train bore down on them.

Christina later reported that when they finally got it free, the train was no more than a few feet away.

The conductor had spotted them and was applying the brakes, resulting in a high-pitched screeching noise.

At the last moment, David and Christina rolled away from the tracks and off the edge of the trestle, where they gripped frantically to the wooden ties.

Unfortunately, the vibrations from the passing train were too strong, forcing the two to climb down to the narrow steel crossbars that supported the bridge.

Sparks rained down around them, and dust filled their eyes and lungs.

Still, they managed to hold on.

After the train finally came to a stop, David was able to pull himself onto the top of the tracks.

But Christina was left clinging there for nearly half an hour before the fire department arrived to rescue her.

In the confusion, the conductor had already reported hitting several individuals, but the authorities were relieved to find that everyone was okay.

In the days that followed, news of their miraculous escape spread through Louisville.

Christina became a minor celebrity, but she remained silent about the whispers she'd heard in her head just moments before the train appeared.

At first she convinced herself that it had just been one of her friends, but when she told David, he said that he'd heard the exact same thing, only in his case, it was saying his name.

To this day, many believe the group had suffered a run-in with the infamous goatman, who'd lured them out onto the trestle like so many others.

Only this time, they'd been lucky enough to escape.

In April of 2016, 26-year-old Roquelle Bain and her boyfriend David Nee arrived in Louisville, Kentucky.

The two had driven from Dayton, Ohio for what was meant to be a weekend of ghost hunting and adventure.

Roquell was an avid thrill-seeker, the sort of person who sought out haunted houses and forgotten graveyards with more excitement than fear.

That evening, the couple had booked a night-time tour of Waverly Hills Sanatorium.

one of the most infamous haunted locations in America.

But with several hours to spare before the tour, Roquelle suggested a detour.

She had read about the legend of the Popelich Trestle, which she described as a place where they could reportedly summon a goat man by attempting to traverse the bridge.

David agreed and the pair set off to the site.

According to later testimony, they parked their car near the base of the old railway embankment and began to climb.

They passed a number of no-trespassing signs as they did so, but because they believed the rail line was long abandoned, they continued towards the top.

Once there they took in the eerie sight of the century-old railroad bridge.

So far from the roads below, they found themselves struck by how eerily silent it was.

Having come this far, Rockeley urged David to come with her onto the trestle.

It was not quite dark yet, and seeing no real danger, he agreed.

He would later recall that his girlfriend seemed extremely eager to get out onto the bridge to see if she could indeed conjure the goatman, but as they edged further and further out, he began to feel increasingly uneasy.

As they neared the halfway point, he began to notice a soft metallic hum from somewhere deep within the structure.

He called out to warn Raquel, but she simply continued to walk forwards, as if she was transfixed by something he was unable to see.

Moments later the hum turned into a full-bodied rumble as a freight train appeared on the tracks behind her.

Panicked, David shouted for Raquel to run, but there was nowhere to go.

In a split-second decision, David swung over the side of the bridge, catching hold of one of the narrow crossbeams that braced the trestle's frame.

At this point, Raquel seemed to snap out of her trance and she too tried to make for the edge of the trestle, but it was too late.

The train struck her just a few minutes before 7.30pm, killing her instantly.

In an eerie replay of the Christina Butts incident, the conductor had already called emergency services.

When they arrived, they found David still clinging to the framework, pale, shaking, and too traumatised to speak.

News of her death spread quickly, reigniting long-standing debate about the legend of the Poplick monster.

Authorities were once again quick to dismiss it as misadventure.

In their view, the legend was responsible for her death, not the Goatman itself.

But Believers would quickly seize on David's retelling to point out just how familiar the details felt.

Had Roquelle been called there somehow?

Had she been mesmerized by the same voice that affected Christina, David, and half a dozen others who'd been caught unawares whilst out on the bridge?

Perhaps, in the end, one doesn't need to see the goat man of Popelick's trestle to become his victim.

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When it comes to what the Poplik monster might be, there are generally two schools of thought.

One views the creature as a literal entity, like something ancient and potentially supernatural.

The other sees it as a story born out of fear, myth and the very real hazards of an extremely dangerous place.

Those who believe the monster is real are quick to associate it with other Goatman-type beings said to haunt the United States, including the Lakeworth monster and the beast of Prince George's County in Maryland.

It makes sense as each seems to share similar traits, such as immense strength, cloven hooves, and a tendency to appear near bridges, country roads, or ravines.

This would seem to indicate that the ancient Romans, Greeks, and other Europeans were referencing literal animals when they wrote about satyrs and fawns, and that these creatures still exist in some remote parts of the world.

In Kentucky's Kentucky's case, the explanations are even darker.

Some say the Pope Lick monster was once a circus performer, the product of cruel experiments or a genetic mishap.

Sometime in the 1940s, he escaped when a train carrying his show derailed near the trestle.

But given its apparent ability to manipulate people's minds, it would seem unlikely that the goatman living at Pope Lick is just an undiscovered creature or scientific abnormality.

Once again, people go back to the history books, which connect goatmen to satanic folklore.

Even the devil himself has long been depicted as having goat-like features.

Theology tells us that demons sometimes possess the ability to mesmerize and control their victims, which would mean the Pope Lick deaths are mischief on par with possessions and demonic hauntings.

It's worth pointing out that there are very few instances of people actually seeing the goatman himself.

This would suggest that it might not exist in a permanent physical form.

The eerie shapes and mist reported by some witnesses may be nothing more than a way for him to lure people up onto the top of the trestle, where he can distract them long enough for a train to end their lives.

Some argue that the Popelik legend is indeed real, but that it is a far more human story.

In this case, it exists solely to create curiosity, luring people up onto the bridge where they are subjected to disorientating stimuli.

They argue that the sense of dread people feel when out on the trestle could result from a combination of the extreme height and infrasonic vibrations that occur naturally in large metal structures.

Scientists have shown that low frequency sound can induce feelings of dread, anxiety and even hallucinations.

In cases where a train actually appears, it may seem as though this sense of foreboding has been fulfilled.

It's worth noting that the deaths linked to the site, tragic as they are, fit within a very familiar pattern.

Across the country, active railway lines see similar accidents every year, often caused by trespassing or misjudging the speed of an oncoming train.

In total, around 2,200 people are injured or killed by trains each year in the US, yet in the absence of a Goatman legend, they rarely make their way into the public zeitgeist.

Whether the Goatman kills by existing in reality or legend, there seems to be little authorities can do to keep people from exploring the public trestle.

This brings us to a final explanation held by many longtime residents of Louisville.

To this small minority, The Goatman isn't a killer at all, but a guardian.

They claim he exists to try and frighten intruders away from the bridge to spare them from a violent death by train strike.

Given that, as far as we know, nobody has been killed by the Goatman himself, perhaps it's worth considering the role he plays and questioning our own interpretation of events.

The legend of the Popelik monster rests at the intersection of myth, morality and mortality.

Whether the creature is a living entity, a supernatural force or a story shaped by fear and imagination, its influence is undeniable.

It has claimed lives, inspired folklore, and become an integral part of the cultural fabric of Kentucky itself.

As long as the bridge still stands, stretching silently above the dark waters of Popelick Creek, the goatman's shadow will continue to linger over the quiet woods below.

Locals still report faint hoofbeats on quiet nights or a figure moving across the trestles when no train is due.

Some claim to hear distant cries echoing through the valley, too human to dismiss, too distorted to explain.

Whatever haunts that bridge, its legend refuses to fade.

Each new trespasser who climbs the fence and walks the rails is answering a call they can't quite explain.

Whether it's curiosity, courage, or something far darker whispering their name, they all hear it.

And if you ever find yourself near those Kentucky woods at night, pause for a moment and listen closely, as you might just hear it too.

Bed time is for

the first time.