First let me say that I am a 21 year-old-male from Kentucky. I think I was about 14 when this happened. I also want you to know that I am a skeptic when it comes to ghosts and believe that there must be a logical explination to everything even though it may not be a logic that we currently understand. If asked about U.F.O.s, I would have to say that I am very skeptical, but the possibility is far greater than the possibility that there are spirits of the dead walking amoung us. The reason I mention this is that this story falls somewhere between U.F.O.s and ghosts. I want to assure you that as God is my witness this is a true story. It has recently been on my mind and really scares me anymore. So enough already, here is the story: It was late one evening in mid-summer about seven years ago. You see, I had this very strange habit: I was always absolutely obsessed with throwing rocks. I would spend hours doing this. I had one spot in particular where I spent much time engaged in my hobby, as there were many rocks there. The spot is located about 60 yards up the hill behind my house. Because the summer days get very hot here and one is advised not to be out much in the day, I had adopted the habit of waiting until evening to go out and do this. It was a ritual that I had repeated many nights before, just about every night for the last month or so. I was a rough boy who was never afraid and all the ghost stories in the world would not have kept me from my love of stone-throwing. So this night I was out there sitting in my usual spot just throwing away. I had been doing this for about an hour, and it was just beginning to get dark, probally about twilight. I heard the front door open to my house and knew that my father was coming out to tell me it was getting dark and to come on in so he could go to sleep without worrying about me. He came around the house and stoped at the bottom of the hill, then yelled "Donald! Eric! Come on in it's getting dark, and I want to go to bed." Now Eric is my little nephew who was about 9 years old or so. I sat there a minute and said sort of low like "Huh? Ok." He stopped, walked a bit closer and again said "Donald! Eric? You boys get in here now." Now I stood up and said, "Eric is not up here. He is there in his room. I am the only one up here. He walked up the hill and asked, "Well, who were those people you were talking to?" I said, "No one. I am here alone." I could see that scared him. He said "Donald, honey, are you sure Matt and Eric are not up here?" I said, "No, Matt (who is Eric's little friend) is not even here tonight." He said that there was someone there behind me and did I see them? I said no, and we went and looked around the yard. We searched everything very thoroughly and went in to confirm that every family member was where they were supposed to be. They were. We got my brother up, who got his pistol and went up the road to see that there were no strangers in the area and further search the yard. All the while, my poor father was not saying much. He was so scared, and I had never seen him frightened before. It was not until the next morning that he had recovered enough to give us the whole story. My father said that when he walked out he saw two little people standing there dressed in white, like a "damn doctor or something" to use his words. He did not see me, as I was sitting down and he assumed that the little people -- whom he estimated to be about 3 1/2 to 4 feet tall -- were me and my nephew. When he yelled he said they ran around the side of the hill above me then went behind some small buildings of ours and he never saw them again. Now it is important to know that our yard is totally fenced in two sections, the "little white men" as my dad put it were behind me on the other side of the fence. There was an open gate which went out into our yard which is also fenced. They could not have gotten into our yard without me seeing them and even so could not have crossed our fence so fast -- and then world certainly have been heard by us and the dogs. My father admitts that this scared him worse than he had ever been scared before. For months he would not go out after dark and after that never went out unarmed. It was not until he used the phrase that "they were standing there looking right down my shirt collar" that it scared me some. People wonder now why I rarely go up there after dark without a 9mm stuck down my pants. I hope you are interested in this story. What I was wondering was have you ever heard anything similar to this before? If you have or ever do I would appreciate you letting me know. I sure haven't a clue what they were. I often wonder where would I be if my father hadn't came out that night. Or how many other nights they had been there before. Thanks for listening.