Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 7 SCARIEST Skinwalker & Mimic Encounters I've EVER Heard

Episode Date: August 12, 2024

These are 7 SCARIEST Skinwalker & Mimic Encounters I've EVER Heard Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:03:36 Story 2 00:13:15 Story 3 00:23:30 Story 4 00:32:52 Story 5 00:42:02 Story 6 00:48:39 Story 7 Music by: 'Decoherence' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM_AjpJL5I4&t=0s Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #skinwalker #mimic #cryptids 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

This happened not too long ago at my dad's house in Charleston. It was about a month back, I think. I was in my room and couldn't sleep, so I just decided to watch TV. I've always had a weird feeling about my room at my dad's place. You see, we have this small room behind a bookshelf that opens like a door. I've lived in that house since I was seven. I've never been scared of it before, even as a little kid. But for some reason, my room has been freaking me out lately.

the creaking of the ceiling fan, the faint noise of the air vent that barely works. It all seems a bit unnerving. As I was watching TV, I heard something coming from the bookshelf door, a faint tapping noise. I rewound the show I was watching to see if it was part of the program, but I didn't hear the tapping this time. Once I turned off the TV, I heard the tapping again. I just assumed it was my dog, who sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night.

Now I'm not going to say the tapping did. didn't scare me. It definitely did. I tried to go to sleep, but the tapping started once more, louder than the first time. Scarlett, I know that's you, I yelled, thinking it was my little sister. The tapping then stopped, and I heard a voice at the door that sounded like my little sister. Macy, please, can I sleep in your room tonight? I can't sleep, the voice said, but I knew it wasn't my sister. My sister would not have started talking to me outside of my door like that voice did, The voice sounded like my sister, but something about it also sounded inhuman. I didn't reply to it.

I didn't say anything. I didn't know exactly what to think of it all. All I knew was that it was not my sister. I then heard slow stomping as the thing at my door began to walk away. I locked my door and kept my lights on. I don't exactly know how I went to sleep after that, but I did. The night after, my dad and my little sister went to the store. I was home alone. I was on the phone with my friend, as I was scared that that thing would show up again.

After about an hour, she had to go, so I said goodbye and hung up reluctantly. I went downstairs to watch a movie with my dog. I didn't feel so creeped out after all. My dog is a 150-pound Great Dane. Halfway through our movie, I heard a knocking at the front door. Hello, I got locked out of my house. Can you please help me? It sounded like my neighbor. I walked over to the door and was about to open it when a thought popped into my head.

That's not my neighbor. She should be out of town. I quickly backed away from the door, grabbed a knife from the kitchen in case whatever was outside tried to get in. The knocking got faster and louder. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so afraid.

After a while the knocking stopped and the thing outside walked away. My dog was cowering in a corner instead of barking. Eventually my dad and my sister came home and we all went to bed. After that night, I've not heard the thing again. I'm still scared of my room to this day, but as long as I have my lamp on, I'm okay. I will never forget those experiences. This story includes my personal account and my friend's multiple encounters.

Let's start with mine. I'm from rural Southern Ontario, Canada. I was 18 years old and in college, often getting home late due to professors. having other jobs and teaching us on the side. In late November, I noticed that whenever I came home and went to unlock the house, the noises would stop. For context, I live on a main side road with bushes dotted along the road. My house is situated across from a bush, with two rows of trees on one side and more bush at the back of the house. For about two months, I shrugged it off as the cold pushing all the animals south, or them hibernating. That was until one night I was. One night I was to

was taking out the garbage to the laneway late at night because the garbage truck was coming early in the morning. As I rolled the bins to the end of the laneway, I noticed a pair of eyes staring at me through the bushes. I instantly felt dread pour through my body, so I booked it back to the house. When I looked behind me, there was nothing. Not a light in sight except for the house lights. I shrugged it off as the house lights reflecting off of something down there. Those were my first two signs that something was out there. About a month and a half later, I got out of my truck to go inside the house through the garage. As I was about to open the garage, I heard a blood-curdling scream from the middle of our field, maybe 400 feet away. It took me a second to unfreeze myself,

and then I quickly opened the garage door and booked it inside. Since then, things have gone back to normal for me. I hear birds, owls at night, and even coyotes, until one week in the spring. There should have been birds out chirping and crickets being out and about, but I didn't hear a thing. I remember thinking that thing was back, and a feeling of being watched accompanied me every time I was outside. Now, onto my friend's story. This also takes place in Ontario. He's had three encounters with what I think was a skinwalker. I'll share the story from his perspective. I was on my way to my girlfriend's dad's cabin in Ontario, around Algonquin. We were about 20 minutes out from his place. The drive had been peaceful so far. The two of us were exhausted from the long drive. Out of nowhere, I saw this

dog on the road. It was a kilometer away, but just sitting there, not moving. I started to slow down. I flicked my high beams off and on, but nothing. It wouldn't budge. I slowed down even more until I was about three meters away from it. Suddenly, my girlfriend spoke up. What the heck? Why is it just sitting there? I shrugged and continued to watch it closely. Then I watched it get up and begin to walk around towards the passenger side of the car, not breaking eye contact with me. I kept staring at it until it was around the back of the car. I think that's the neighbor's dog, said my girlfriend. They have two dogs. Maybe one of them got out. Okay. I'm going to. going to walk to the house and see if they're home, to see if their dogs are there. Could you go

grab it? I nodded and the two of us got out, going our separate ways. I could see the dog through the car's taillights and the house lights as I started to walk towards it. It began to move away in a kind of sideways walk, all while keeping eye contact with me. Weird, I thought. How was it keeping pace with me like that? I decided to start jogging after it, and still, somehow, it kept pace with me. Then it started getting faster. It was strange. I was jogging pretty fast and it was just out walking me. It then began to bark in a weird way, like every bark after the first was just a copy paste of the first one, like a program or something, same pitch and everything. It then ran backward into the ditch, and I followed it. By now, I was around a kilometer away from the car, so I couldn't see anything.

I could hear it barking out there, but it seemed far away. I went into a sprint and got to where it sounded like it was coming from, and, nothing. I then heard more barking farther away, somewhere else. That's not possible, I thought. I can't be running that fast. I then pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. As I did, I saw something run across the road into the opposite ditch. Then something even stranger happened.

The dog stood up on its hind legs and ran into the trees on those legs. I froze. Then, when I broke out of my state of paralysis, I truly realized how far away I was from the car. I turned around and ran as quickly as I could back to my car. My blood was really pumping then. I felt as if I'd gone into fight or flight mode, like that thing could possibly be on my heels. I tried to run even faster. As I drew close to the car, I saw my girlfriend running towards it.

Get in, she called. We have to leave. We both hopped into the car and gunned it down the road. I looked in the rearview mirror, and that dog was sitting in the road again, about five meters from where the car was. What happened, she said. I steadied my breathing, then told her what happened. She started to cry and told me something.

I walked up to that house. No one was home, but the door was open, and the screen door was shut. I peered inside, both their children. dogs were asleep on the couch just fine. I don't know what you were chasing because it looked like you were chasing a replica of one of their dogs. I heard footsteps and saw you running, and I knew something was wrong. We were both shaken up and made it to the cabin, ready for a sleepless night. That was my friend's first experience. His second happened at the cabin he stayed at, about 20 minutes from where the first encounter was. Here's that story. My girlfriend

and I were staying at our cabin in the woods one weekend. We had a good time and went to bed drunk. I woke up in the middle of the night with a dry throat, so I went off to get some water. As I was drinking, I had an urge to smoke a cigarette, so I opened the screen door and walked outside along the wet grass. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and lit one. It was a peaceful night, very quiet. I was half asleep still, so I didn't notice the lack of noise around. As I took a drag of the cigarette, I noticed a coyote walking up. This thing's got balls, I thought, as I kept smoking. The large coyote walked up about ten meters from me, got up onto a picnic table, and sat there.

As I looked at it, it seemed off. It had patches of fur missing, seemed a little too skinny, and it sat more like how a man would sit if he were pretending to be a dog. Its joints were just skin and bone. Somehow it didn't really click with me just how off this thing was, so I finished my cigarette. I flicked the butt towards the thing in front of me, and both me and this thing watched it fall to the ground. I stared at the cigarette for a second and looked up. Within that brief moment, the thing was gone, like it had never been there. Wow, I must be really drunk, I mumbled, as I turned away and

walked inside to bed. My friend's last encounter was again in the same place, on yet another weekend. Here it is. In the fall of 2023, my girlfriend and I were again at her dad's cabin in southern Ontario. It was a weekend of just her and me drinking with ourselves and the cats. It was a good night. At around midnight we were watching a movie when I noticed something was weird. The insects outside that I could clearly hear a moment ago went silent, not a sound. I didn't really focus on that fact and instead watched the movie. As the movie came to, came to a close I felt a feeling of dread. I looked over at the two cats that lived in that cabin. They were staring at the door that led outside, hair straight up, mewing weirdly.

My girlfriend started to get scared, and I tried to reassure her. Then we heard a thump upstairs. What the heck was that? My girlfriend whispered, I don't know, but I'll go check it out, I said. I grabbed the machete that was beside the door and went upstairs, with the wood creaking all around me. Just a possum or raccoon, I thought, as I hit the top of the steps. As I walked through the upstairs, I noticed it was coming from the roof. I could hear something walking around on the roof up there, and it was big. I hustled back downstairs, but had to keep calm as I saw that my girlfriend was now crying. It's fine, it's nothing, probably just a raccoon walking on the roof trying to get in. I made up a quick lie to calm her down. After that, I went around

the house, shutting the windows and locking everything up. As we huddled in the blankets and talked about what was happening, we both heard this distorted scream from the trees. It sounded like a man or a woman screaming, but twisted, in some way. It lasted for about ten seconds before going quiet. After that, we stayed frozen to that spot till morning, not sleeping a wink. We packed everything up and left as soon as we could and made it back home safe. As dumb as I am, I'm probably going to go back there with her, but this time I'll be armed in case something decides to fight. This episode is brought to you by Netflix's remarkably bright creatures. What if a Pacific octopus held the key to a mystery that could heal your heart? Well, that's Tova's reality. An elderly widow working at an aquarium.

Tova forms an unlikely friendship with the cramudgeonly Marcellus, whose remarkable intelligence leads her to a life-changing discovery. Watch remarkably bright creatures with your remarkable moments this Mother's Day weekend, only on Netflix May 8th. My name is Chris, and I've always loved the great outdoors. Living in rural Virginia, the Blue Ridge Mountains were my playground. I knew them like the back of my hand, or at least I thought I did. I'm 32 years old, and not much scares me.

I've come face-to-face with black bears, and I've navigated trails that would make a billy-goat thing. twice. But this story is about the time I encountered something that chilled me to the bone. It was the first weekend of deer hunting season, my favorite time of year. I was excited to try out a new spot I had found in the Piney Grove Preserve. The area was deep in the mountains, known for its thick pine forests and rugged terrain. It was a hunter's paradise and just the kind of challenge I liked. I had spent weeks preparing for this trip. I set up trail camps, and marked my route with GPS so I wouldn't get lost.

I felt ready and confident as I loaded up my truck with all my gear for an overnight stay. The drive to Piney Grove was peaceful, the morning air was crisp, and the sky was a clear blue, just perfect for a day in the woods. When I arrived, I parked my truck near the trailhead and double-checked my equipment. I had my tent, my hunting rifle, enough food and water, and of course my trusty GPS. Taking a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, I started my hike. The trail was challenging, with steep climbs and rocky paths. It wound through the thick pines, which filled the air with their sharp scent. As I hiked, I listened to the sounds of the forest, the chirping of birds,

the rustle of leaves, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. It was music to my ears. After about five miles, I reached the spot where I planned to set up camp. It was a small clearing surrounded by dense woods, giving me a good view of the surrounding area. I quickly set up my tent and arranged my gear inside. Everything was going smoothly. With camp set up, I grabbed my rifle and headed to the tree stand I had installed earlier that week. It was positioned on the edge of a small clearing, overlooking a well-used game trail. deer frequented this trail and I was hopeful for a good shot climbing up into the tree stand i settled in making myself comfortable for the long wait ahead as the sun began to set the forest changed the light faded and shadows grew long and deep the noises of the daytime creatures quieted down and the night shift began owls hooted in the distance and i could hear the faint rustle of nocturnal

animals as they started their nightly routines. I felt at peace, alone with nature. But as darkness enveloped the woods, an uneasy feeling crept over me. It was quiet, too quiet. Even the usual night sounds seemed muted, as if the forest was holding its breath. I shook off the feeling, telling myself it was just the nerves of being in a new hunting spot. Little did I know, my peaceful night in the woods was about to turn into a nightmare that would haunt me forever. Sitting in my tree stand as the last light of day disappeared, I felt a chill that wasn't from the cold. Everything was so still that even the smallest noise seemed loud. I was ready for a quiet night of waiting and watching, hoping a big buck would wander by.

But what happened next was something I could never have prepared for. It started with a sound, soft and distant. At first I thought it might be the wind or an animal moving through the brush, but then I heard it again, clearer this time, a voice. It sounded like someone calling out, faint and far away. Hello, is anyone out there? It said. My heart skipped a beat. It was definitely a human voice, a woman's voice, sounding scared and lost.

For a moment I didn't move. People getting lost in these woods wasn't unheard of, but something felt a bit. off. The voice came again, closer now. Please, can someone help me? I'm lost. It sounded desperate, and my first instinct was to call out, to tell her I was here, but something inside me hesitated. Why would anyone be out here so late, so far from the trails? I was about to shout back when the voice changed. Chris, is that you? It was my mom's voice, calling my name, clear as day. But that was impossible. My mom lived three states away and hated the woods. She'd never step foot in a place like this. A cold shiver ran down my spine. How could this be happening? Son, what are you doing up there?

Come on down. It's time to go home. Now it was my dad's voice, calm and familiar. But my dad had passed away five years ago. My head was spinning and my heart was pounding in my chest. This couldn't be real. I was either dreaming or something very strange was going on. I clung to my rifle, trying to make sense of it all. The voices sounded so real, so much like my parents, but I knew they weren't. I needed to stay calm, to think. But then the rustling started, something big moving through the underbrush to my left. My breath caught in my throat. Who's out there? This isn't funny, I called out, trying to sound braver than I felt. The rustling stopped and for a second everything was silent. Then, right below my tree stand, a low chuckle broke the

silence, a laugh that sounded almost, but not quite human. It was followed by a series of clicks and pops, like someone or something was trying to form words but couldn't quite get it right. Then, in a voice that was a chilling mix of my moms and dads, it spoke again. We've been waiting for you, Chris. It's time to join us. I peered down. my headlamp cutting through the darkness. At the base of my tree, I saw something. A shape, pale and shifting, with limbs too long and a face too smooth to be human. Fear like I'd never felt before took hold of me.

My mind screamed to run, to get away from this nightmare. Without thinking, I aimed my rifle and fired. The shot echoed through the forest, and a high-pitched, inhuman shriek filled the air. The shape darted away, disappearing into the night. As silence fell again, my heart raced and my hands shook. What was that thing? What did it want with me? I knew one thing for sure.

I couldn't stay in that tree stand any longer. I had to get out of there. After I fired my rifle, everything went silent for a moment. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of my chest. The creature, or whatever it was, had vanished. But the woods felt even more dangerous and eerie. I knew I couldn't just sit in my tree stand all night. I had to get out of there, to run as fast as I could away from those voices in that terrifying

shape. Climbing down from the tree stand, my legs felt shaky, but fear pushed me forward. Once on the ground I didn't look back. I just ran. The forest around me was pitch black, and the only light came from my headlamp, bouncing with every step I took. scratched at my face and roots tried to trip me, but I kept moving, driven by pure adrenaline. The voices didn't stop. They followed me through the dark calling my name. Some sounded angry,

some sounded pleading, and some even tried to sound seductive, as if they could lure me into stopping. It was like the whole forest was alive, trying to trick me into coming back. But I knew better. I knew I had to keep running. I ran without thinking about direction or distance. My mind was focused on one thing only, escaping. The voices seemed to be everywhere, behind me, beside me, even right next to my ear. It was terrifying. Every once in a while, I'd hear something that sounded just like my mom or my dad, and it would make me want to stop, to listen. But I forced myself to ignore it and keep running. I don't know how long I was running through those woods. It felt like hours, but it probably wasn't more than 30 minutes. Finally,

I saw something that looked like salvation, a gravel road. It was the road where I'd parked my truck. I'd never been so happy to see a road in my life. I sprinted down that road, my lungs burning and my legs aching, but I didn't slow down, not until I reached my truck. My hands were shaking so much that I could barely get the key into the lock. When I finally did, I threw myself inside, locked the doors, and started the engine. I was safe, or at least safer than I was in the woods. As I drove away, one final voice reached me.

It sounded like a little kid, chillingly sweet. Don't leave us, Chris. We'll be waiting for you to come back. I stepped on the gas, gravel flying behind me as I raced down the forest road. I didn't stop until I hit the highway. The drive home was a blur. I kept going over everything that had happened, trying to make sense of it.

Could it have been a hallucination? Maybe some kind of gas leak in the forest, or maybe I'd fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing. But deep down, I knew it was real. The fear I felt, the voices, that shape at the base of the tree, they were all too real. When I got home, the first light of dawn was just touching the horizon. I was safe back in my own driveway, but I knew one thing for sure. I was never going back to those woods.

Whatever was out there, it knew me, and it wanted me. And as much as I loved the wilderness, some places are better left alone. Looking for a protein shake that tastes as good as it performs? Meet rockin protein max, packed with 50 grams of fuel. It'll help you keep up when your day won't slow down. And because it's always creamy and never chalky, every sip tastes great.

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I've been holding on to this story for some time, and to be honest, I'm still not sure about sharing it. However, after listening to a podcast, it all came flooding back, and I feel like I need to get it off my chest. Maybe that will help me make sense of what happened all those years ago in Willow Creek. As a quick note, this town isn't actually called Willow Creek, but for the sake of privacy and anonymity, I'm going to call it that. For context, I grew up in a small town in northern Michigan, right on the edge of a vast stretch of wilderness. Willow Creek wasn't much more than a collection of houses, a general store, and a small elementary school back then, surrounded by dense forests and winding streams. It was the kind of place where everyone knew every one.

everyone else, and kids had free rain to explore the woods as long as we were home by dinner. I was ten years old when it all started, in the summer of 1995. My best friend back then was a girl named Sarah, who lived just down the road from me. We spent most of our days building forts in the woods, catching frogs in the creek, and making up elaborate fantasy worlds. It was a scorching hot day in July when we decided to venture further into the woods than we'd ever gone before. We packed up some sandwiches and juice boxes, feeling like real explorers as we set off down an overgrown trail which led away from the creek. We must have walked for a couple of

hours, the forest growing denser and darker. I remember feeling a bit uneasy, like we'd crossed some invisible boundary into a place we were not supposed to be. I assumed it was the feeling a child gets when they travel too far, but Sarah was fearless, always pushing us to go just a little bit further. We were about to turn back when we stumbled upon an old, large, gnarled willow tree. Its branches drooped so low they almost touched the ground. There was something off about it, though I couldn't put my finger on what exactly. The air felt heavier there, and it was eerily quiet. No birds singing, no insects buzzing. Sarah, always the brave one, walked right up to the tree and ducked under its curtain of leaves. I hesitated, a strange sense of dread

creeping over me. Come on, Alex, Sarah called from inside the tree. It's so cool in here. I took a deep breath and followed her in. The space under the willow was dim and cool, a welcome relief from the summer heat. Sarah was right. It was pretty magical in there, like we had discovered our own secret hideout. We were about to start planning all the adventures we'd have in our new fort when we heard it, a soft whispering voice coming from somewhere above us. Come play. We froze, looking at each other with wide eyes. The voice didn't sound like anyone we knew, and it had a strange echoing quality to it. Did you hear that? Sarah whispered. I nodded, my heart pounding. It might have been the wind, I suggested, not believing it myself. The voice came once more louder than the first time.

I'm lonely. Climb up here. Keep me company. Sarah, curious, started to look up into the branches. Do you see anyone? She asked. I scanned the tangle of branches and leaves above us, but I saw nothing. We should go, I said, tugging on Sarah's arm. This is creepy. For once, Sarah didn't argue. We ducked back out from under the willow and started to speed walk back the way we'd come. As we left the clearing, I swear I heard a faint, disappointed sigh rustling through the leaves behind us. We didn't talk much on the way home. Both of us were trying to process what had happened. By the time we got back to our neighborhood, we'd halfway convinced ourselves we'd imagine the whole thing.

But that was just the beginning. Over the next few weeks, we heard more stories from other kids in town. Jenny Parker swore she'd heard someone calling her name when she was picking berries near the edge of the woods, but when she looked around, no one was there. The Thompson twins said they saw a strange, shadowy figure darting between trees when they were camping in the backyard. Each story was a little different, but they all had one thing in common, a voice that sounded almost, but not quite human. Adults dismissed it as kids' overactive imaginations, of course, but we knew better.

We started to call the thing the whisperer, this entity that lurked in the woods and tried to lure kids away. It became our local boogeyman, the story we'd whisper to each other at sleepovers to see who would get scared first. I didn't have another encounter with it that summer, but Sarah did. She showed up at my house one evening, pale and shaking. She said she'd been walking home from the library when she heard someone calling her from the woods. It sounded like her mom at first, telling her to come quick that there had been an accident.

Sarah began to run towards the voice when she realized her mom was working late that night and could not possibly be in the woods. It wasn't her voice anymore when I stopped, Sarah told me, her eyes wide with fear. It got all distorted and angry. It said it would get me next time. I wanted to believe Sarah was just trying to mess with me, but I had never seen her so scared before. We made a pact that day to never go back into the woods alone. As summer turned to fall, the encounters seemed to die down. We started to relax a little, thinking maybe whatever it was

had moved on, but then, in early October, everything changed. It was a crisp Saturday morning, and the news spread through town like wildfire. Billy Hutchins, a seven-year-old who lived on the outskirts of Willow Creek, had vanished from his backyard the night before. Search parties were being organized, and soon the whole town was combing the woods, calling Billy's name. I remember the pit in my stomach as I overheard the adults talking. Billy had told his mom he was going to play in his treehouse for a while before dinner. She called him in to eat about an hour later, but he didn't respond. When she went to check on him, the treehouse was empty, and there was no sign of Billy anywhere.

The search went on for days, with police dogs, helicopters, and volunteers. tears from neighboring towns. It seemed like the whole world had descended on our little corner of Michigan, but they never found a trace of Billy. It was like he'd simply vanished into thin air. In the wake of Billy's disappearance, parents cracked down hard. No more playing in the woods, no more staying out after dark. The carefree days of our childhood seemed to end overnight. But here's the thing that still haunts me to this day. The night Billy disappeared, I was sleeping over at Sarah's house. We were up late, watching movies in her living room, when we both heard it, a voice just outside the window, one that we recognized. I'm going with him, it's so

fun, you guys should come too, said Billy. We looked at each other in horror. Billy was not the type to walk alone at night, and we knew exactly who he was referring to, the whisperer. We huddled together on the couch until morning, too terrified to even think about sleep. We never told anyone what we heard that night, who would believe us. And more importantly, what could anyone have done? That thing in the woods, whatever it was, had won. It had finally taken a child. The strange encounters stopped after that. No more voices calling from the trees. No more shadowy figures glimpsed at the edge of the forest. We could only guess the whisperer had been satisfied and had moved on. Years passed, and life in Willow Creek slowly returned to normal. Billy Hutchins became a

cautionary tale, his story told to remind kids not to wander off alone. Most of the adults chalked it up to a tragic accident or a wild animal attack. Those of us who had encountered the whisperer knew better, but we rarely spoke of it, even amongst ourselves. I left Willow Creek for college and never moved back, though I do visit my parents from time to time. Sarah stayed, taking over her family's hardware store. We don't talk much anymore. Too many painful memories, I guess. Different lives to live. Sometimes. When I'm lying awake at night, I still hear that voice in my head, Billy's voice telling me that we should come too. I can't help but wonder, what if we had told someone? Could we have saved Billy? Could we have rallied the

adults and torn Billy from that thing's clutches? Or would we have been the ones to disappear next? I don't have any answers, even after all these years. If you're ever out in the woods alone and you hear someone calling your name, someone who sounds almost, but not quite like someone you know, do not answer, don't follow, just run. Hello, my family believes we are being stalked, hunted, haunted, and teased by one or more skin walkers. This has been going on for years, on and off. We live on a farm, and these entities have been making more frequent appearances than ever lately. My kids are scared, as they've seen it several times, as have my husband and I. We even believe it's been indoors with us from time to time. The glimpses I've seen at first

appeared to be that of a naked man moving with extreme speed, faster than I can keep an eye on. It peaks around corners of the house at my kids and makes human and animal cries at night. It's terrifying. We have found doors unlocked and left open at night, and when we investigate, we catch a glimpse of it. Garage doors, too. Doors that no one ever opens. There's no good explanation for it. Living on a farm, we are used to the sounds of coyotes howling, barking, and different animals of prey screaming when attacked.

The screams we've been hearing lately are not the same sounds of coyote attacks. These are screams that sound human, blood-curdling cries I've never heard anything like before. I don't know if there is something that can be done to keep them at bay. I believe many of these evil entities come in and out of our dimension, but I would love to keep them out if that's possible. Here is one of the more terrifying encounters. It was August 14th, during a meteor shower that was ongoing until the 24th. I was curious to see it, so I went out late.

At exactly 1 a.m. I stood in the middle of the road in front of my house, staring up at the clear night sky, watching some comets pass by. Across the road in front of my house is a good five acres of unclaimed desert land. I'm from Arizona, where Navajo skinwalkers are said to originate. As I was standing there, I began to hear odd noises, like a branch cracking or crunching something. This noise came from directly in front of me, about 100 yards away. At the time, I didn't think much of it.

It's important to note that, after this whole experience, I did my research, and everything seemed to add up to my story. There are reasons I believe it was a skin walker. It was far away, but I've read accounts where people mention that the farther away the sounds of a skinwalker might seem, the closer it actually is. Not even ten seconds later, I heard a very strange noise coming from the left side of the front of my house. This was close, about 50 feet away. Having lived in Arizona for six years, these noises were unfamiliar and different.

I was always out at night, and I could tell when it was just a desert rabbit or a couple of coyotes. As these strange noises occurred, the worst feeling I've ever felt in my 17 years came over me. It was very weird and made me feel very uneasy. It was that gut feeling like I knew something bad was going to happen soon, or was already happening, a sense of impending doom. Then, as fast as the noises started, they stopped, but this was a short pause. I heard faint talking coming from the same spot where the noises had happened. Not long after, it sounded like a little girl. I couldn't make out a single word, as it was quiet, faint, and practice.

but it was definitely feminine. Then it stopped again, and immediately after, clear as day and twice as loud as the talking before, I heard my name, Noah. In that very moment, I don't think I've ever been more truly terrified. I was super freaked out. I began to walk towards my front door. I read that Skinwalkers tend to mimic the voices of people and sound very human-like to try to lure people in.

I also read that in most cases with kids, skinwalkers will purposefully lurk around or near houses, and everything unfolded just outside of mine. My heart was racing at that moment, and that gut feeling I got was still there, just as bad, if not worse. I was at the bottom of my driveway now, already turned around heading for the front door of my home. As bad and freaky as things already were, you'd figure things couldn't get any worse. That was until, on the right side of me, I heard the gravel of our front yard crunching. It was deep and long, two crunches. It was coming towards me now, no more than 20 feet away.

Unfortunately, I hadn't seen anything with my own eyes. It was too dark, and the steps had occurred on the opposite side of my sister's car to the right of me, so I didn't have a clear line of sight as I walked up the driveway. At this moment, I was scared out of my literal mind. When I heard the crunch of the gravel, I was on the verge of calling out or even yelling at whatever thing was coming my way, but I didn't. My gut instincts told me that initiating something like that would most likely make things far worse. I tried my best to keep my composure. The entire inside of me was collectively screaming as a whole.

I was at the top of the driveway now. My driveway is slanted. I was no more than maybe five feet from the door when, on both sides of me, these sounds are steps picked up faster, coming towards me. Fortunately for me, I didn't acknowledge the things that happened at the time, or at least I tried my best to ignore it for my own safety, and I didn't initiate anything with whatever was truly out there. I made it to the door and quickly locked it up behind me, but things just got freakier from there. Whatever had just happened had scared me out of my mind. You know how when you have a bad feeling, it tends to go away after the so-called bad thing

happens. Well, that feeling hadn't gone away, and I was still on high alert. I put the cover over our large dog door, locked the back door, the garage door, and made sure all the windows were locked. That bad feeling almost never went away that entire night, and I was still freaked out after what happened. Everyone was asleep, well, except maybe for my sister. I trusted that she was still awake. I went to her room, and when I knocked I woke her up. She said grogly that I could come in, so I came in quietly and sat down. She went back to sleep, and I prayed nothing bad would happen again. Of course, my sister is the only one in the house who keeps her blind up at night. God knows why, and of course the screen of her window had fallen off, and she never bothered to put it back on,

so it was just glass from there. I could see the entirety of the backyard, And if there was anything in my backyard, it could see me now too. I sat in her room for a good while. I want to say maybe 15 minutes had passed when, abruptly, out of nowhere, I heard faint whistling, very faint. However close it was, it didn't matter because it was coming straight from my backyard. It got closer, that whistling began to sound like a flute. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.

Another quick note, after reading some other person's story, it is believed that I could have heard the flute of a Navajo or Navajo witch. Now in the comfort of my own home came this strange music. Once I identified it sounded like flute music, it went away. I quickly got up, told my sister goodnight, and didn't say a word after that, leaving her room still creeped out. With everyone else asleep and being alone, I turned on a lot of lights. and sat at the bar in the kitchen. At one point, I even thought to wake my dad up just so I could be in the comfort of another person.

I was only 17. I ended up not doing it, thinking my dad would be teed off. As I sat there, once again came the faint crunching of gravel rocks from my backyard. Whatever was there, I could hear it. It was no more than five feet away from the back door. Then came a small, short knock on the glass. I froze and waited.

Every minute came one more singular knock. This just scared me even more. Skin Walker or not, something was on the other side of that door, and I wasn't going to stick around to find out. Luckily for me, my back door has a cover, which is also just glass. I flicked off the lights and walked towards my bedroom. I didn't bother looking at the back door. I stayed in my room for the rest of the night.

I never left. I was up for a good three hours after everything occurred. Even then, I heard strange noises from outside my window, too. I remained horrified until somehow in some way I fell asleep. The next morning, everything seemed fine. I truly don't know what happened that night, but I'm glad I went with my gut. I don't think I'd be here if I hadn't. I am 28 years old and live in Columbus, Ohio.

I work in IT, and up until last year, I lived in a pretty standard apartment complex on the outskirts of the city. It's one of those places with a bunch of three-story buildings clustered around a central parking lot. Nothing fancy, but decent enough for a single guy on a budget. This all went down right before Halloween. The complex had started to put up some cheap decorations. I had been living there for about two years by then, and nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened.

The scariest thing I'd encountered was the occasional raccoon digging through the dumpsters. It was a Thursday night, and I was getting home late from work. We'd had a major system crash, and I'd spent hours trying to get everything back online. By the time I pulled into my complex, it was almost midnight. To my annoyance, the parking lot was unusually full. There must have been some sort of event going on that I had forgotten about. All the spots near my building were taken. I ended up having to park clear on the other side of the complex, a good five-minute walk

from my own apartment. Not a big deal, I guess, just inconvenient. I grabbed my laptop bag and started trudging across the parking lot. The yellow streetlights cast long shadows across the asphalt. I was about halfway to my building when I heard it. A voice. It was soft, but very apparent. It came from the shadows between two parked cars.

Excuse me, can you help me? I'm lost. I stopped, peering into the darkness. The voice sounded like it belonged to an older woman. My first thought was that one of the ones. the residence grandparents had gotten turned around in the complex. Hello? I called out. Where are you? There was a shuffling sound. Then I saw a figure step out from between the cars. In the dim light, I could make out the shape of a small hunched woman with wispy white hair. She was wearing what looked like a nightgown or robe.

Oh, thank goodness, the woman said, her voice quivering. I was taking out my trash and I got all turned around. These buildings all looked the same in the dark. Could you point me to building C? I felt a pang of sympathy. Building C was clear on the other side of the complex, and this poor old lady had wandered pretty far. Of course, I said, taking a step closer. It's actually back the way I came. I can walk you there if you like. As I moved towards her, something made me hesitate. Maybe it was the way she stood completely motionless, like some sort of cardboard cut out, or the fact I couldn't quite make out her face in the shadows. I felt a chill run down my body then, and I found myself taking a step backward.

That's very kind, the woman said, but her voice had changed. It was deeper now, and there was a reverb to it in a weird way that made my skin crawl. Why don't you come a little closer, I'm having trouble seeing you? Despite every instinct in my body screaming at me to run, I stood there petrified. I watched the figure, which now seemed to shift. It was subtle at first, like a ripple passing through water. Then, in the span of a single heartbeat, it grew. The hunched form straightened and expanded.

The wispy hair disappeared, and the figure shot up to well over six feet tall. What stood before me now was a towering, vaguely humanoid shape. In the dim light, I could see that its skin, if you could call it that, was a patchwork of textures. In some places, it looked like normal human skin. In others, it was more like rough tree bark or sleek animal fur. Its face was the worst part, a blank featureless expanse with just the suggestion of eyes and mouth, like an unfinished sculpture. I stumbled backward, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.

The thing took a step towards me, and when it spoke again, it was with a chorus of voices, men, women, children, all layered over each other like a hellbound choir. It made my head spin. Don't go. I just want to talk. I just want to heal, it said, reaching out with a hand that seemed to be constantly shifting and reforming. I turned and ran, sprinting across the parking lot toward the nearest building.

I heard it behind me, a sound like bare feet. slapping against asphalt, but much too fast, too rhythmic to be human. I reached the building and yanked open the door, not even caring that it wasn't my own. I raced up the stairs to the second floor and pressed myself against the wall, trying to quiet and steady my breathing. For a long moment there was silence. Then, from right outside the building I heard a voice, my voice. Hello, is anyone there? I think I'm lost. My blood ran cold. It was a perfect, imitation of my voice, down to the slight nasal tone I get when I'm nervous. Can someone please help? I don't know where I am. I stayed there, pressed against the wall,

for God knows how long. The voice, my voice, called out a few more times before eventually falling silent. Soon, I worked up the courage to peer out the window. The parking lot was empty, no sign of that strange figure or anyone else for that matter. I waited there until the sun began to come up before making a mad dash for my apartment. I packed a bag, called in sick to work, and went to stay with a friend for a few days. When I came back, everything seemed normal. No one in the complex mentioned anything strange, and I tried to convince myself it was all some kind of stress-related thing. But I couldn't shake the memory of that voice, those voices, or the sight of that shifting, impossible form. I broke my lease two months later, and I broke my lease two months later,

and move to a new place closer to downtown. I tell myself it's for the shorter commute, but we all know the real reason. I still live in Columbus. I avoid that part of town now. Sometimes when I'm driving home late at night and see someone walking alone in a parking lot, I feel a surge of irrational panic.

And every now and then, when I'm drifting off to sleep, I can remember that voice. And I pray that I don't hear it again calling, Hello, is anyone there? I think I'm lost. Ever since I can remember, fishing with Dad was our thing, our special way to bond and to escape everything else. It was on my fifth birthday, during one of our fishing trips, that I had a dream I'll never forget.

It was a perfect sunny day, the kind that paints everything gold. Dad and I were on our little boat in the middle of the calm green lake. I loved watching the way the sunlight played on the ripples, turning them into sparkling gems. Dad was rowing slowly, taking in the nature around us. He wore his black cap, faded to a dusty orange by the sun, and those mirrored sunglasses that seemed like part of the official Dad uniform. Everything felt peaceful, just right. But dreams have a way of turning, don't they?

Without warning, Dad stopped rowing. The oars slipped from his hands and sank into the lake with barely a splash. Then he did something that even now, years later, sends chills down my spine. He straightened up, placed his hands on his knees, and turned to me with a smile. But it wasn't his usual warm smile. It was broad and eerily forced, as if someone had told him to smile, but forgotten to mention he could stop. Despite the sunglasses, I could tell his eyes weren't smiling. They looked wrong somehow, like they were empty of all the dadness I knew.

I asked him what was wrong, my voice shaky, but he just kept smiling that creepy smile. saying nothing. The rest of the dream is a blur. I remember him just staring at me with that smile while I cried, feeling an eternity passed between us. I woke up in tears, the images of the dream still vivid and haunting. Mom was already by my side, trying to comfort me. She whispered that it was just a nightmare, but her voice couldn't chase away the shadows in my mind. I couldn't go back to sleep after that. The thought of closing my eyes and seeing that smile again was too much. So, I stayed up, watching cartoons on TV, their brightness a stark contrast to the darkness I felt inside. At the time, I didn't understand what had happened. It was just a bad dream,

right? But somehow, it felt like more than that. It was as if something had reached out from whatever place dreams are woven from, leaving a mark on me. Little did I know, that was my first encounter with something I'd later come to call the mimic, a shadow that knew no boundaries, not even those between dreams and waking life. Looking back, I wish I could tell that little boy that everything would be all right, that it was indeed just a nightmare, but that would be a lie. That day on the lake was just the beginning, and there was so much more to come, so much more that I still struggle to understand. Life went on after that disturbing dream, but I was a part of me remained wary, always on edge. It was a few summers later, and I was about

ten. I loved spending my mornings bouncing on the trampoline in our backyard. It was my little bubble of happiness where I could jump and flip away my worries. That particular morning was bright and clear, promising a day full of play. I woke up early, pulled on my shorts and a t-shirt, and rushed outside to start jumping before breakfast. The rhythm of bouncing felt freeing, almost like I was flying. As I was doing tricks, catching air and feeling the morning breeze, I noticed Mr. Thompson, our neighbor, walking towards our fence. He was a retired policeman and had always been friendly, waving and chatting whenever we saw him. He called out a cheerful, good morning, and commented on how early I was awake. He mentioned something about the apple trees

in his yard and how he expected a good harvest that year. I just nodded and smiled, not really paying much attention. I kept jumping, lost in my little world. After a while, I figured Mr. Thompson had left, as the conversation died down and I heard no more from him. I decided to take a break and grab the edge of the trampoline to steady myself. As I turned to hop off, I froze. There he was, standing just behind the trampoline's safety net, his face unnervingly close to mine. His eyes were wide open, unnaturally so, and his smile. was broad and forced. The same kind of smile from my dream. It wasn't the kind Mr. Thompson ever wore. His eyes, usually kind and gentle, were now bright red, as if he hadn't blinked in ages.

He stared straight at me without blinking, without speaking, just that terrifying smile. Panic gripped me. My heart raced, and for a moment I couldn't move. I couldn't understand what was happening. Was this real? Was it another dream? The sight of him so changed, so creepy, it struck a cord of fear deep within me. Suddenly, my legs found their strength, and I jumped off the trampoline and sprinted towards the house, slamming the door behind me. I was panting and shaking as I told Mom what had happened. She looked at me with wide, worried eyes, and immediately suggested we go over to Mr. Thompson's house

to ask if he was all right or if something was wrong. I was too scared to face him again, so she went alone. She returned quicker than I expected, her expression puzzled and concerned. Mr. Thompson had seemed genuinely confused by her questions. He admitted he had come by to say hello, but insisted he had left right after our brief chat about the apples. He denied ever standing behind the trampoline or staring at me like that. I didn't know what to believe. Mom seemed to take his word for it, but I couldn't shake the image of his twisted smile and those haunting, unblinking eyes.

for weeks after I kept a vigilant watch on his house from my bedroom window, half expecting to see that creepy smile again. But everything seemed normal, at least on the surface. I tried to convince myself it was just a weird moment, a trick of light or my imagination running wild. But deep down, I knew it wasn't. It couldn't be. Something was very wrong.

I was 14 now, and my days were filled with the, usual teenage stuff, school, homework, and weekends at my grandparents' house. They lived close to my school, so I'd often ride my bike there on Fridays to hang out, do my homework, and enjoy my grandma's strong coffee. One typical Friday, I left school feeling particularly drained from a tough math test. I wheeled my bike up the driveway, dropped it by the porch, and let myself in through the unlocked door. Our family never worried about locking up during the day. Grandma, I'm here, I called out as I entered. There was no response, which was unusual, because Grandma was always in the kitchen around this time, usually humming or talking to herself

as she cooked or cleaned. I shrugged it off and headed straight for the kitchen to grab a snack. The house was strangely quiet, no humming, no clinking of dishes, just silence. I dropped my backpack and books on the kitchen table and noticed Grandma standing at the sink, her back to me, Math was brutal today, I started, hoping to strike up a conversation. No reply. I frowned, waiting for some sign she had heard me. Grandma? Still nothing. The silence stretched on, becoming more unnerving by the second. She hadn't even moved since I'd walked in. Something felt off. I tried to see her face in the reflection of the shiny teapot on the counter, but I couldn't make it out clearly. Curiosity mixed with a rising,

fear, I slowly approached her. Grandma, are you okay? No response. I reached out to tap her shoulder, but before I could touch her, she turned around abruptly. The sight that greeted me froze me in place. It was Grandma, but not the Grandma I knew. Her eyes were wide open, bloodshot, and her mouth. It was stretched into a grotesque, forced smile, much wider and more terrifying than anything I'd seen before. Her skin seemed almost purple, and her expression was one of pain and horror. I stumbled backward, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Grandma? I whispered, but the figure just stood there smiling that horrible smile. I couldn't take it. I turned and ran out of the house, leaving everything behind, even my bike. I sprinted all the way home, my mind racing with fear

in confusion. As soon as I burst through the door, Mom saw my face and immediately knew something was wrong. She called Grandma, who answered sleepily. She said she'd been napping in her room and hadn't seen me at all that day. That phone call confirmed it wasn't just my imagination. Something was following me, something that could take the shape of people I loved. From that day on, everything changed. I stopped going out much. my anxiety skyrocketing every time I had to interact with anyone. School became unbearable, and eventually, I just stopped going. People thought I was losing it, that the stress had gotten to me. Maybe they were right, but they didn't see what I saw. They didn't feel the terror of seeing

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