The Visitors: 5 Real Reports of Nightmare Fuel People Who Appeared From Nowhere

The noise called to them, like a warped ambulance siren echoing across the marsh. On a Tuesday in May 1973, two seven-year-olds, a girl named Fay and her friend were walking through a park in the town of Sandown on the Isle of Wight, when they heard the sound. Curious they tracked it across a golf course to a narrow wooden bridge over a small lake. As they approached, a blue-gloved hand emerged from the water under the bridge, clutching a book. The figure that followed looked nothing short of otherworldly. Towering at nearly seven feet, with a neckless head perched directly onto his shoulders, the figure that would later be dubbed the “Sandown Clown” wore a patchwork of odd colors: a yellow pointed hat, a green tunic with a red collar, and a white face bearing triangular eyes, a square nose, and fixed yellow lips. Antenna-like slats jutted from his sleeves, and he had only three fingers on each hand. Startled but intrigued, the children watched him drop his book into the stream, clumsily splashing to retrieve it. Instead of fleeing, Fay and her friend watched as he hopped towards a metallic hut nearby, moving with exaggerated, high-knee steps. Soon after, he reemerged holding a black microphone with a white cord. Another siren blared, louder and sharper, prompting Fay’s friend to sprint back in fear. Then, just as suddenly, the siren cut off. Through the microphone, the clown spoke as if he were right beside them: “Hello, are you still there?” Despite the somewhat frightening situation, the children edged closer, encouraged by the clown’s soft, friendly voice. When they were close enough, the figure scribbled in a notebook and held it out to them. “Hello, and I am all colors, Sam.”