Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Best Scary Skinwalker Stories | Ultimate Compilation, Wendigo, Cryptid, Scary Stories for Sleep

Episode Date: September 7, 2022

These are The Best Scary Skinwalker Stories | Ultimate Compilation, Wendigo, Cryptid, 12 Hours of Scary Stories  #Skinwalker #Wendigo #Cryptid #JustCreepy True Scary Stories For Sleep Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy You can submit your own story to my Website, email, or subreddit:  ►https://www.justcreepy.net/  ►[e-mail]  ►https://www.reddit.com/r/justcreepystories/ Music by: ► Myuu’s channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey  ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe  ►Free HD Stock-Footage and Motion Graphics by CyberWebFX ►https://www.youtube.com/c/CyberWebFX Business inquiries:  ►[e-mail]    💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

So I've never really told anyone about this, and I don't really know how to properly explain what I saw. So this is my first and best attempt. My name is Zach, and I moved to a northwestern city in Washington State in early 2018, and I didn't really know much about the area. I had recently gotten out of a pretty bad relationship, which actually led to me moving to this new city. Best decision of my life, by the way. I lived with my mom and her roommate for a while until I could get my own place, and everything was going pretty well. I had a nice job, made some good money, and I had little to no rent.

Plus, I was making a lot of new friends. One night, about two weeks into my new move, my buddy, let's call him Jay, invites me to go play some pool and have a few drinks. It wasn't too late, maybe 9.30. So I happily accepted the challenge, grab my phone, which I had unfortunately forgotten to plug in when I got home from work, search for my keys, and got in my car. Ten minutes later, after blasting Blink 182 and some screamo music, I pull up to the bar. My buddy is already outside and waiting for me, and I sat in my car for a minute before I went to say what's up. We played pool for a while that night.

won a few games, lost a few games, before I felt like going home around 11.50 p.m. My buddy said he's going to stay and hang out with some people he knew there, and so I left to go get my car and readied my phone for Google Maps to find my way home, and... No power. It had run down while I was at the bar, and I didn't know these streets very well, but I didn't want to face the shame of walking back inside to tell my friend that I didn't know how to get home, so I decided to chance it. I mean, it wasn't even a 15-minute drive.

It was pretty close by, right? Wrong. I got lost. About 10 minutes later, I realized I've taken a few too many wrong turns and ended up in this residential area with unfamiliar houses and streets. I kept driving on and on down these streets, trying to find a familiar landmark or familiar street name so I could find my way home. But all I found was more and more of these strange residential houses. But then, this weird fog started rolling in. Now, fog isn't that uncommon in the Pacific Northwest, and I know that.

But this fog felt off. It felt heavy. It was this light gray color with a hint of tan, and it was swirling. It also stayed close to the ground. and never really went above the tops of the houses. What really freaked me out was when I swear I kept seeing these small bipedal creatures

running along the houses through people's yards following my car. I could never get a close look at them to get perfect detail, but they were about two to three feet tall, gray, oily skin, and had what looked like white hair on their heads. These things were fast too,

and there were about six or seven. of them. They were just running through this fog. And the further I went down these roads with them, the thicker the fog was. No matter how slow or fast I was going, they kept following me. Or was I following them? I could have been following them. I mean, they were always at my side and in front of me. I never saw them behind me. Were they leading me somewhere? They were so mesmerizing. I just wanted to keep following them just to see where they were going, but I knew better than that. Something felt wrong. I had to get out of there. I got that weird, six-sense feeling of I shouldn't be here right now, right before something bad happens. All of the sudden, this dark gray and white wolf

came running out of the fog right in front of my car. I quickly slammed on my brakes, nearly crashing into one of the parked cars along the street. This wolf just stood there and the middle of the street, looking at me, and I swear we locked eyes for what felt like ours. But then, bam, the wolf bolts down the street, and I instinctively follow. I slammed the car and drive, peeling out, and began to follow this wolf down side street after side street. This wolf stayed right in the middle of the street the entire time. It was crazy. I had never seen anything like this in my life. I didn't even think there were wolves in this area this close to the city. It wasn't long before I noticed that the fog had gotten

lighter and eventually disappeared. That was when I realized that I'm on the road that I recognize that actually leads me to the direction of my house. With a confused, amazed look on my face, I glanced back to where the wolf was at, just to see it dart off into the forest, never to be seen again. I got home safely that night, and to this day, I saw. I saw a little bit of still have no idea what I experienced that night. My two buddies and I went on a hunting trip for Bull Elk last November and were having a great time to say the least. That, however, would soon change after what we saw on the third day. Now I'm not one for superstition, and I don't believe in ghosts and all that, but what we saw out there really changed my view about those sort of things. The trip

started out normally after we parked our trailers at camp. We got there a day before the hunt officially started so we could settle in and get some scouting done. Only Eric and I had licenses because Brian didn't draw this year, but he wanted to come along with us anyway. Brian also brought along his German shepherd named Lucy, which stayed back at camp with a leash that was connected to a metal spike. The spike was so deep in the ground that I wondered if he would be

be able to get it out. I asked Brian, and he just told me that his dog was so strong that it had to be that deep. I enjoyed playing with Lucy. She was always excited to see me, and would greet me by jumping up on her two legs and trying to lick my face. Eric, however, was not amused by her and would constantly yell at her to leave him alone. Anyway, the first two days we saw so many cow elk in the valleys and on the sides of the mountains that I thought for sure we would see some bulls out there, but there were none among them. It wasn't until the third day of the hunt that we saw a bull elk, but it was too far away to take a shot at, and even if we were able to hit it, it would take hours trying to pack that thing out. So that evening, we decided to hunker down to some fallen

trees and were able to watch the hillside. While we were surveying the area, Brian, spotted a coyote about 250 yards walking to a small pond of water. Eric took out his binoculars to take a closer look and he started to describe it saying that coyote, it ain't right looking. It has a hunch on its back like a bear and its jaw. Oh man its jaw seems like it's broken and now it's just drooping there like a fish. Let me see those binoculars, I asked curiously with an outreach hand. Eric, handed them to me. I took them and looked at the animal and said, You're right, that thing's jaw is just hanging there. Also, did you happen to notice its hair? It's so long and unevenly dispersed. I then handed the binoculars to Brian, and he looked at

the coyote for a second and screamed. Sh, Brian, shut up. We're hunting. Eric whispered harshly. What did you see? I asked as I looked at his shut. shocked facial expression. Brian looked at his feet as he muttered. I saw my dog, Lucy, but it wasn't her. I don't know what that was. It couldn't have been your dog. When I looked at it, it didn't have a large black spot on its back or your dog's strawberry red sides and underbelly. I said in a plain, yet confused manner, well, since we ain't going to see anything out here because you scream like baby. I'm going to go put that coyote out of its misery. A large shot followed, and we saw the animal drop soon after. It was a clean takedown, and Eric was curious about seeing what was wrong

with the animal up close, so he started getting ready to hike out. As he got his stuff together, he said, you probably just didn't get a good look at it, Brian. Your dog is fine. Brian stood up, and he brushed the dirt off himself and replied, I swear, I saw my dog, but an evil demented version of it with human eyes. But you guys are probably right. There's no way she could have had the strength to yank the metal spike holding her back at camp.

Well, let's go find the truth about this animal, I said, somewhat excitedly, as I started walking toward the animal. It took us about a half an hour to hike over to it, and we lost sight of the animal's corpse as we passed through some trees. Once we finally got to the spot where the animal had dropped,

there was nothing, just a puddle of red. However, the red was blackish and very dense. Eric observed the scene and started to scratch his head, as he said. There's no way

it could have just gotten back up and walked off. I had an eerie feeling about the whole situation and Brian was still afraid that it might have been his dog. Eric, however, noticed a train.

leading to the dark tree line. Without asking, he started to follow it. As he did, Brian and I were both freaked out and just watched Eric as he ran into the forest. He soon went out of sight, and Brian and I could not leave him there, so we waited. I passed the time by taking a skinny stick and poking it through the puddle of red. It smelled terrible, so much so that my stomach convulsed, and I threw up. You okay? asked as he put his hand on my back. Before I could answer, there was a loud shot that echoed through the trees, and we both looked at the direction it came from. Must have found the animal, I said as I spit into the grass. As soon as I said this, we could now see Eric, and he was full on sprinting.

Run! He screamed as he ran at us. I was able to ask him what happened, but Brian grabbed my arm and yanked me towards where we had parked the truck. Without hesitation, I ran. I ran, We soon made it back to the truck. I looked back at Eric, who slowed down for nothing. I soon looked behind him and saw nothing chasing us. So I opened the truck and got in without worry. Eric then climbed in and told me to hit the gas and go. I was so perplexed on what Eric saw out there,

and I knew that he hardly ever got scared of anything, so this started to freak me out. I started driving fast back to camp. I don't know, man. That was no animal. I followed the trail and it stopped at the base of the tree. And I was wondering how a coyote was able to climb a tree. But when I looked up, I saw this hairy humanoid creature there.

It smelled so bad. Eric went on about how scary that thing was and how he was done with this hunting trip and wanted to go home. We soon pulled into camp and mutually decided that we were going home. I started to pack my things, then felt like something was missing. I then thought to myself, Lucy, where's Brian's dog? She usually is always excited to see us back at camp.

She can't stop whining and barking to be set free. As soon as I thought this, Brian started screaming and crying. I ran over to where he was, and his dog was gone. However, on further inspection, I noticed what Brian was looking. looking at. Something had pulled out the metal stake in the ground. Brian just could not stop crying, and Eric ran over to see what was wrong, and just stood there, jaw dropped, and frozen. Skinwalker, Eric said in a low tone of voice as he looked in the distance. He then screamed, It's a skin walker. I followed his gaze and saw an animal that looked like Lucy,

but it had human eyes and his sickly green glazed looking coat of fur. Brian stopped crying and just stood there, eyes locked on the beast. Eric whispered with his voice quivering, We all run to the truck on the count of three. Just leave everything else. Brian and I slowly nodded and agreed to the plan. Okay, three, two, one. Eric whispered sharply and we took off like a pack of gazelles for the truck.

We hopped in, and as soon as we did, we saw the Skinwalker lunge at us and struck the truck on the right door with such a powerful blow that it nearly tipped over the whole truck. It didn't stop me whatsoever, and I drove out of there faster than I ever have before. After that, none of us ever went hunting again in that area. We never even went back to claim our camping trailers and supplies. It was too terrifying to think that what happened to Brian's dog could happen to us, and that thing would walk around in our skin. Since that experience, I am now a superstitious person.

There are places in the Rocky Mountains that are known by word of mouth as forbidden areas. This is not because they are private property or owned by the government, but rather because of what lurks in their mists. Anyone stupid enough to wander into these areas, even unknowingly, will be haunted, cursed, or most likely never heard from again.

Many cases of missing people in the wilderness are people who have wandered into these territories and who have never come back. These restricted areas can be found all across the world in diverse places. I heard of some of these stories, and one mountain area in particular caught my eye. The stories about it all varied in their description of the creature that lived in there, but they all described the red eyes and sound it admitted exactly the same. And some older people explained that that was all you could see of the creature and the darkness. However, the main thing that they focused on was the sound that it made.

Supposedly, it was like a deep clicking sound. It supposedly sent nerves chilling up and down your spine. I was young, immature at this point in my life, And so after hearing these stories, I was very intrigued because I was always fascinated with the supernatural my entire life. I had binge-watched all of the TV shows that involved ghost hunting, so I wanted to do some exploring for myself and act like I was some famous ghost hunter. And so I also took a camera with me into this supposedly forbidden mountain area, among other simple hiking supplies. I started in the early morning light on the trail. I was not quite yet into the forbidden area

when I saw an old man with an antique-looking cane off the side of the trail, sitting on a decaying log. I nodded at him while keeping a steady pace, trying to avoid conversation with the man. But he asked me, in an old scratchy voice, Where are you headed, young man? You seem awfully eager to be on your way. I stopped and replied,

staring at the man's wrinkled face. Nowhere in particular, just out for a hike. That's all, really. The man sat there staring me down for a while, straightening his back and said, I feel an evil presence stirring within you. Your true intentions are not what you have told me. I stood there, perplexed by what he said.

I then thought to myself, what is this man talking about? I have no evil intentions. The man then spoke before, I was able to ask him a question, saying, The path you choose is your choice, but I'm warning you that whatever it is that you are pursuing on this trail, I beg of you, may you please rethink it. Look here, man, I have no evil intentions, and there's no darkness inside me. I'm just going for a hike, I replied, with a weirded out tone.

He who seeks after the forbidden land seeks after darkness. and he who seeks after darkness will surely become it. The man stated firmly as he used his cane to stand on his feet. My insides began to twist because this man actually knew what I was doing up here, but how? I have told no one about this trip, so I asked, Who are you, and how do you know where I'm going? Young man, this is not important.

Listen to me when I tell you to turn around, for there is only demise where you are headed. The man said as he began to shuffle down the trail, What are you talking about? I asked hesitantly, wondering what the man's background story was. However, he did not reply and continued down the trail. I looked down at my watch to see how much time I lost by talking to the man. Dang, was that really ten minutes?

I said to myself as I quickly looked back to where the man was walking, and saw that he was gone. He was far too slow to have gotten back to the tree line, but there was no other explanation of where he went so fast. I shrugged it off as some crazy old guy in the forest, trying to keep people from going on his land that he's squatting on. He is probably growing some illegal plants out here and is trying to scare people away from finding it.

It reminded me of some Scooby-Doo story plot. I tapped my camera that I had in my bag pocket, and thought to myself how fun it would be to expose this man and prove all the people scared by this so-called forbidden land wrong. It would be a pleasure to yank the mask off this old wrinkly man's face. Time continued to pass, and soon I was in the heart of the restricted land that fell between the two mountains and was mainly a rocky valley hidden under large ponderosa pines. The sun began to sink behind one of the mountains, and I prepared my camera to take my camera to take the video of the man dressed as a monster. I was so eager I could hardly maintain my composure,

and I even let out shivers of excitement. It was at this time I thought I felt a cold chill, tickle my spine, and a feeling of uneasiness came upon me. The wind spun with darkness, entwined with its every twist and turn. My heart began to pound with every pump. I quickly looked up from the camera on the rock and gazed around me. I saw the wind. I saw it. nothing out of the ordinary, until I saw a dark, glowing red dot hidden behind a tree. It looked bright red, and it reminded me of the description of the monster. I shook off my nervous feelings and got back to business. So I quickly turned the camera on and faced it toward the tree. I last saw the red eye. There was nothing there now. Huh? Where did you go? I whispered to myself as I zoomed in on the tree.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dash a blurred light, and I turned swiftly and started recording. I now saw two red eyes peering at me from a rock that was about 50 meters away. I once again zoomed in the camera on the rock the creature was on, and there was no red dots on the camera's view, but strangely, I could see them clear as day with my eyes. Come on, pick this up. I silently screamed at the camera while doing all the adjusting I could on it. trying to get it to pick up the eyes. After a few moments, I looked up and the eyes were gone,

but a faint sound began to echo through the trees. Now I knew for sure that this was no animal, but had to be the creature or the man dressed like one. The sound began to become more clear and less faint. It started to scare me with every clicking type sound that cut through the already quiet breeze. I made sure the camera was recording just in case I was able to pick up the sound. I grabbed a stick that was lying nearby and wielded

it. The sound grew louder with every aching moment and my heart rate grew as it did. Then, straight ahead of me, the figure with its red eyes with black pupils was crawling towards me. It was a humanoid figure with patches of fur covering parts of its body, but the rest was a sickly pale skin with splotches. My stomach shot up and I was frozen in fear. I knew for sure that there was no crazy man dressed up as a monster by how it moved so inhumanly. As I stood there, the thing's clicking sounds grew louder and more aggressive and slowly crawled toward me. The only thing that I could think of was run. So I threw the stick at the beast and sprinted back into the trail, leaving all my gear but the headlamp I had on.

At this point the sun had gone down and no remnants of it remained. I just ran, not looking back for any reason. A loose rock rolled out from under my foot, which sent me barreling down the side of the rocky hill. My sleeveless legs and arms were all cut up now. Behind me, I heard rocks being knocked down and branches snapping, and that awful sound it makes grew louder. I thought about getting up and running, but my ankle ached too much. so I swiftly looked around for any cover, but the only thing I could find that was close enough

was a bush with dried up leaves. I had no choice, so I curled up inside of it and turned off my headlamp. My heart began to calm down as I heard the creature become quiet. However, the thing's deformed human face with holes for ears and a mouth large enough to swallow a whole animal, caught my gaze.

Its eyes glowed in the dark, and I felt sick to my stomach looking at it, so I closed my eyes and prayed it wouldn't find me. After a few minutes of silence, I chose to open them, and the humanoid creature was there, just staring at me. I met its eyes, and as I did, I felt dread. All my nightmares popped into my head at once. The only thing I could do was scream.

It then lunged at me, and my world went dark. The sun was shining bright, and the clear, blue sky. I slowly opened my eyes and remembered what had happened and I jumped to my feet. I looked around me and thought I had gone to heaven. There were beautiful trees, soft-looking grass, and a cabin with smoke coming out of it. I headed toward it and knocked on the door. The old man answered with a smile on his old wrinkly face. So, how'd you sleep? You've been out there for two days now. The man asked while brushing his hair on his chin. I replied in a confused tone and then asked,

What happened to that creature? Well, I knew you'd be stupid enough to not listen to me, so I followed you to make sure you'd make it out safe. Well, at least most of you would make it out safe. What do you mean by most of me? I asked hesitantly. The man's smile went away as he grabbed his cane and tapped my right leg. I could see his cane hit my leg, but I felt nothing. The old man cleared his throat and said,

Your leg is gone, if you haven't noticed. It's the price you had to pay for going into that land. Oh, and you're one of the lucky ones, young man. Many people go missing in these parts and are never heard from again. I stood there shocked as I rolled up my pants to see a wooden leg up to my knee. I was amazed that I haven't noticed until now. I then asked as I saw that he had all of his limbs, How do you go on that land and not get attacked?

The same way I was able to get to you. That thing hates light, but only natural light, such as a fire, not artificial light. Flashlights do nothing but edge on its curiosity. The old man said while opening up a plastic cooler, So I guess my leg was eaten by the time you were able to save me? I asked as I examined my fake limb. The man took something out of the cooler and turned toward me, He was holding a leg when he said,

No, my pet out there gets the scraps. I get the tender parts. When I was a kid, my family spent our school breaks at a cabin that sat on Lake Anacoco in Louisiana. The building was a modest, open-style house that barely held all 11 of our extended family members on various sofa beds and cots that were strewn about the space.

The place had air conditioning, But the heating was controlled by a wood-burning stove that sat in the middle of the living room. The house stands as a strange blend of modern and ancient in my mind, though I haven't been there in years. The house had nothing to fear on the inside. It was packed to the gills with goofy and sometimes profane cow-themed decorations, an old typewriter that probably weighed more than 100 pounds, and various country records that my grandmother would put on to dance,

with my grandfather. Nights where we weren't outside by the bonfires we'd stack at least five feet high, were spent indoors playing Uno or Domino's while eating my grandmother's home-cooked meals. We'd dance and laugh along with silly songs or my uncle's colorful stories. And on special occasions,

we'd fire up the Nintendo 64 on the big screen when my grandfather decided that he didn't want to watch his bass fishing specials. The entire lakehouse was a representation of my childhood, and woods that surrounded it were my playground. My brother, three cousins, and I would patrol the woods, fish off the decrepit pier, and swim in the swampy lake that shared aside with a military base, Fort Polk. Unfortunately, our merriment came to an abrupt halt when I was about 13. I remember the day I got the bad news.

I was at my grandma's house back in Texas where I lived, and my mom walked through the door at her usual time. However, her unusual sunny disposition was replaced with a grim, red-faced sadness. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, and I remembered distinctly a hoarse whisper that replaced her usual greeting. My dad has cancer. I was young, but the sea word sent a bolt of anxiety straight into my gut. I had been to enough funerals of elderly church members to know what it meant for my beloved relative. My brother was five years younger than I, and even his eyes welled with tears as we received the news. My mother announced that her parents would be moving to a camp in Louisiana permanently

to enjoy their last few years of life, somewhere quiet and peaceful. This meant that we would be spending a much larger amount of time there than we typically did. The bad news wouldn't stop coming through. We found out shortly after my grandparents moved that my grandmother was also suffering from cancer. She already had diabetes, heart problems, and was having issues seeing. She had been through a quadruple bypass the day my younger brother was born, so she had been failing in health for many years. The health issues of both of my grandparents meant that my family spent nearly every other weekend in Louisiana,

visiting my ailing grandparents and squeezing every ounce of time that we could with them. Watching them deteriorate was hard for us. We spent more time than ever outdoors, so as to not smell the sense of sickness, chemo, and hospital supplies that permeated the lake house regularly. We explored the woods even more, frequently traveling the miles-long trails that surrounded the lake. We happened upon abandoned fishing cleaning huts and ducking. huts and duck stands.

But the most exceptional thing that we found was during a hike at dusk, a track. Animal tracks were so incredibly common in these woods that we barely even noticed the bobcat, deer, and duck prints that populated the dense trees anymore. This track was different. For starters, it wasn't one any of us recognized. It was like the bobcat tracks we'd seen a thousand times.

Four-toe pads connected to a larger pad, but it was different in one distinct way. It was massive. A single print was the size of our faces. The groove marks from its claws on these apparent paws dug at least four inches into the dirt. I examined the tracks of the animal using some of the survival training my uncle had taught me. The space between each step and the broken branches nearby meant that it had to be as tall as I was at the time, a paltry four and a half feet for a teenage boy, but massive for an animal. There was this smell in the air I couldn't put my finger on, something like a blend of pennies and

wet dog. Just when I decided it was time to go tell my parents about these strange tracks, my youngest cousin let out a screeching, curling sound. I spun quickly to look at her, my heart beating out of control at this point. She was pointing up in the same. She was pointing up the trees. I took a step back, slowly moving my eyes in the direction of her finger. In the tree she was pointing at, there was a deer carcass. It was ripped to shreds and draped over a branch, half eaten. The deer's residue dripped onto the ground, creating a pool of crimson that was so large that I could smell it where I stood. I walked to the pool and felt the warmth emanate from it immediately. It was fresh, really fresh. I whispered to my cousins to run back to camp immediately.

They followed without hesitation, and I brought up the deer, glancing back as often as I could in the dense forest. I half expected to feel the beast was after me at any moment. It had to be close by. It had to hear us. Just as we reached the cusp of the woods where the open space of our camp started. I heard a noise that sent a chill through my body. It was a sound that I could only describe as a screaming woman combined with the roar of a lion. It pierced the trees and shattered the silence of the woods. My cousins didn't stop like I did when the shriek got to them. They kept running up onto the porch and into the house, slamming the door behind them. I stopped at the fire pit surrounded by chairs that my grandparents built.

and watched the area that we came from intently. Slumping through the woods was a mound of black fur, just far enough away that it looked like a black blot of ink on green paper. Just as a flash of the animal appeared, it was gone. The sun was going down. Over the next few weeks, my cousins refused to go outside for too long. Trips to fish were relegated to boat-only excursions, and sitting by the fire during the night.

roasting hot dogs and marshmallows were all but unheard of. We explained what happened to our parents and grandparents, but they seemed to think it was just another bobcat that we'd conflated into something much more sinister in the creepiness of the woods. Nothing happened for a few more visits until the temperatures began to drop in November. During the week off for Thanksgiving,

the temperatures began to drop drastically in the Louisiana swamps, creating a dense fog that blanketed the entire area. When it was foggy and chilly, the wind would spill through the trees like waves of mercury. It would bite through most jackets and cover up the lake so thickly that we couldn't see the ends of our fishing poles when sitting on the pier. My uncle and I would venture onto the lake on foggy days and go bait the trot lines that we had at various points in the lake to catch catfish. Most fishers hated trying to navigate the stump-ridden lake

in limited visibility. So we had a good chance of catching something with the lake so quiet. My uncle turned on his trolling motor and the boat crept along the water, barely making a ripple. It was around 5 a.m. and we were feeding the line back into the water after baiting it with some perch that we had caught earlier in the week. We had on more than a few layers of clothing,

but my uncle and I were still shivering. When we dropped the last bit of line into the water, I heard the noise again. The sound of the beast. A woman's scream combined with the roar of a large cat. But this time it was accompanied by the shrill, dying braes of some animal in the woods. I swore I could hear crunching as that thing tore into its prey. I locked eyes with my uncle. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes were wide as I had ever seen them.

The man was a trained army sniper and did mercenary work in Afghanistan. This was the first time I had ever seen fear in his eyes in the years I had known him. I don't know what frightened me more. My uncle's newfound fear or the fact that he didn't crank the engine, but instead elected to paddle quietly back to camp, like the thing would hear us and come running. My uncle had some strong ties to the higher-ups at Fort Polk, where he used to work.

When we arrived back at the camp, he immediately tied off the boat and escorted me inside. He rushed over to the phone when he was inside, furiously dialing someone. I only heard pieces of the exchange because he was whispering,

but I did catch a few distinct words. Containment, escape, dangerous, and untested. I knew he must have been talking to someone at the base on the other side of the lake. When he was done, he said that he wasn't sure what it was that he had heard, but we had some friends from the base working on figuring it out. That night the fog rolled out and it was starry, clear, and spectacularly chilly.

The night was so crisp and clear that even my ailing grandparents elected to go outside and roast food by the bonfire. We found out, however, that we weren't quite stocked enough for everyone. So my grandfather elected to drive the golf cart we owned up the hill and down the road from the camp to a local corner store. My two cousins and I went with him, so he wouldn't be lonely. We got to the store within a half an hour or so of leaving the camp and pulled into the fully lit corner store. The owner, Michael, was a 30-something man with a missing leg, who was a veteran and former trainer at the military base. When we walked in, he was sitting on the counter with a half smirk on his face, eating a bag of sour cream and onion chips, smoking.

He greeted us and helped us get what we asked for, some hot dogs, marshmallows, and extra buns, and some fishing line. After he rang us up, my grandfather and he discussed a few grown-up things we weren't interested in until a banging noise came from behind the back door of the corner shop. Michael said something about the dumb new kid he hired and stepped out from behind the counter to go inspect what was going on behind the store. When he opened the back door and looked out, he managed to choke out. Oh no.

As we glanced in his direction, whatever he saw pull him away from the door in an inhumanly fast jerking motion. He screamed and begged for the thing to let him go, for someone to help him. A few sickening crunches stopped his pleading. A red color pushed its way under the half-closed door of the shop and leaked out onto the white tile floor of the corner store. My cancer-stricken grandfather moved at a speed and strength of a much younger man. He scooped up the three of us, rushing to the cart. He pushed us in and floored it, spinning the tires before the golf cart lurched forward and screamed down the road at its top,

way above factory recommended speed of 45 miles an hour. I screamed over the panic of my other two cousins, that it was the thing in the woods that attacked Michael. While we tore down the roads that led to our lake house, my grandfather ignored me, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white. I grabbed his sleeve and begged him to talk to me about what we were running from. He kept looking forward, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror. I don't know why he bothered. The lack of lights on these Dirt Roads made the view behind us a pitch-black void. He didn't even bother to slow down heading down the hill,

and when he slammed his foot down on the top of the brake, the car slid several feet. He commanded we get inside immediately. When we were inside, he loaded four guns and passed them out to my dad, my uncle, and me, keeping one for himself. The camp had four simple walls, but most of them were covered with windows. We couldn't see out of the camp on the camp on the camp, all four sides without fear of a blind spot. And it was well lit around the edges of the tree line,

thanks to lights we had fixed to the trees a few years before. My grandfather put us all in different corners of the building, watching for the thing. No matter how many times I asked, nobody would explain to me exactly what that thing was. About an hour into our watch, we saw the thing coming down the hill, a lurking predator with yellow eyes, but indistinguishable otherwise. A blob moving in the darkness. Then, it did something I'd never seen a bobcat do before. Just as it arrived to the edge of where the lights lit the camp, it stopped, so that it remained nothing more than an inky spot, just out of view. It was only a few hundred feet away from it at this point, so I decided to take action. I slid the window open just an inch and prepped my shot when I felt

my uncle's hand on my shoulder. He pulled the gun away from me and slid the window back down. Don't antagonize it. When my uncle spoke, the thing looked in our direction. We held our breath for several seconds until it went back to pacing along the light's edge. Something about my uncle, calling the creature it, made the beast feel even more sinister in my mind. It also bothered me that he said antagonize, like the shot would do nothing to it. It stared at the building for several more minutes as if it were deciding what to do. Then, just as soon as I thought it was going to step into the light, the beast turned and walked back into the deeper darkness.

We watched as it limbered back into the woods and out of sight. That night I fell asleep in the chair. When I woke up the next morning, my uncle was by me on the couch, snoring lightly. Everyone else but my grandfather was asleep. He stood leaning on the countertop with a cup of coffee in his hand, which quivered slightly, though from weakness, or fear, I couldn't tell. He looked older than he normally did. He was holding a paper that was delivered earlier that morning. Detailed in that paper was a report of how the military base had allowed a live panther to escape after being subjected to heavy testing, making it extremely aggressive

and stronger than cats usually were. It got two people and several pets and livestock that lived around the base before being sedated in the night and brought back to the base. believed the report initially, but the longer time went on, the more it seemed that the initial news report was fiction. When the story hit national news, I truly no longer believe the reports of the paper. Gone were the stories of it being a panther. Now it was a Bengal tiger, and there was no mention of Michael and his horrible fate, or any of the other people for that matter. The worst revelation of it all was the beast was never captured in this particular report. I haven't been back to the camp in many years, but my cousins still visit it from time to time.

They remember the sound of the woman screeching, combined with the roar of the beast and the night well, because now and again they are reminded of it as it pierces the trees. It wakes them from their sleep. They use those nights to sit around the table and eat marshmallows toasted on the wood stove, playing Uno or maybe dominoes, until dawn. Sometimes, when I've had a really rough day and I'm having troubles relaxing, I go for a drive to clear my mind. There's something about driving down the back gravel roads that soothes me. I admit, it can be a little creepy at times.

It can be spooky driving in the middle of nowhere, only able to see as far as your headlights allow. The trees hiding whatever could be lurking just beyond your line of vision. What's even scarier is hearing something in the car. with you when you know you're alone. Last night I was looking for a way to calm down after working a stressful 12-hour shift. I got home around 7.30 p.m., made and ate some dinner, then watch TV in bed trying to get some sleep to do it all over again the next day. I tried to sleep for over four hours, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Sometime past midnight, frustrated, I got out of bed and grabbed my car keys.

I stormed out the front door and hopped in my beat-up Jeep, speeding out of the driveway. I was angrily muttering to myself about how I can't just roll over and sleep like a normal person. After 10 minutes of driving, I found myself down one of my go-to back roads. It's more of a two-track, surrounded by dense pine trees. I like this road because it's spooky. The trees are dense. You can't see ten feet into the woods, letting my imagination run wild. I had to slow down to around 25 miles an hour to safely navigate without hitting anything.

I turned the radio all the way down, turning my full attention to the thin road in front of me. Just as I started to get that eerie feeling, my car radio blared as loud as it could. A talk radio station had somehow popped on, even though I was listening to the airy feeling. to 80's rock before. I jumped, scrambling to turn the volume down. Before my hand found the volume knob, the radio cut out completely. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion, looking at the radio as if it had a mind of its own. All of the sudden, a wave of dread hit me like a ton of bricks. The hair on my arms and neck stood on end, my heart beginning to race uncontrollably. It got so quiet, I could hear my heartbeat, thumping in my ears. After a few seconds of that eerie silence,

I started hearing something behind me, in the back seat. It sounded like someone was pushing down into the back seat, like suddenly a lot of weight pushed it down. A loud pop made me jump a little, grabbing the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles hurt. I started to feel a presence, like someone or something was in the car with me. I could feel it get closer, like it was leaning in to whisper something in my ear. I noticed movement in my rearview mirror as well. Something was definitely in my back seat.

A deep breath exhaled, blowing its breath right in my ear. I was completely paralyzed in fear, not knowing how to react. I was still driving down the road, but maybe at five miles an hour. I was too afraid to turn around and see what was behind me. I had this gut feeling that if I turned around, something bad would happen. Hello.

A muffled voice called in my ear. Its voice sent shivers down my spine. It sounded like an old woman if she were trying to speak while covering her mouth. It started to breathe deep, raspy breaths in my ear, as if it was out of breath and struggling to breathe. Its breath smelled like rotting eggs, making me almost gag. Every now and then, I could see movement in my rearview mirror as it shifted around. Look at me, please. The muffled voice said after a few seconds of breathing down my neck,

I ignored it, kept my eyes straight forward. Finally, I could see the driveway about 20 feet ahead to my left. Once I got to it, I pulled in and turned the car around as calmly as I could. Look at me. It growled. My muscles tensed as it spoke. It was even scarier sounding when angry. I managed not to jerk the steering wheel and successfully turned around.

I noticed I was driving a little too quickly for the road I was on, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to get back to the main road where there were other people if I was lucky enough to make it that far. I felt pressure on my shoulder as it must have grabbed me. Its fingers felt incredibly bony and shaky. I stayed driving straight and tried not to let it affect me. There was now jerky movements that I could see in the reflection of the mirror, like it was having a seizure or something. The fingers dug into my shoulder, making me wince and pain.

Look at me. It growled in my ear again, taking deep breaths in between each word. I noticed my foot consistently pressing the gas pedal harder. I glanced at the speedometer and saw now I was going 50 miles an hour, speeding as I went around turns. I have never wanted out of the backwoods so badly in my life. Somehow I was able to keep the car in control, avoiding the trees that were just feet from my front end. At one point, my tail end clipped a tree as I slid. I kept driving as fast as I could.

Its fingers were digging so hard in my shoulder that it was getting harder to make the turns. Up ahead, I saw the stop sign and I almost cried out in joy. The same cracking noise from earlier rang through the car. I could hear the pressure of my back seat, leave, as well as the heavy feeling of dread that hung in the air. I didn't even notice I was holding my breath until then, taking a huge breath as I blew through the stop sign. I noticed a tear was rolling down my cheek as well.

I could tell by the atmosphere in the air that whatever was in my, back seat was now gone. I sped the whole way home, not stopping at any stop signs on the way. I'd never felt so much relief in my life, as I did in that moment I pulled in my driveway. I slammed the shifter in park and bolted inside, panting heavily. I checked the doors and windows twice before retreating to my room, making sure the whole house was locked up. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep after that. I sat wondering what that was all night. The next day was a long, horrible, 12-hour shift. I was more than thrilled when 7.30 came and I could clock out. I knew I'd struggle sleeping again, but one thing is for sure, I won't be taking a nighttime drive to

help me relax. I don't know what that was, but I pray I never encounter it again. I live in the western suburbs of Boston. I realize I'm not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes it sort of feels like I am. My street is even located between two relatively major roads. However, there's also a lot of farmland in the area, and it's a pretty wooded area too. In fact, my backyard is right on the edge of the woods. There's some trails back there that I've explored, as well as a few other trails nearby. There's a few stone walls and old direction markers back there, but other than that, not a whole lot. Due to the fact that I basically live in the woods, I see a lot of animals in my neighborhood. Aside from the standard squirrels, chipmunks, and birds, I tend to see a lot of rabbits,

deer, wild turkey, raccoons, and a few possums, and even the occasional fox. However, I've started seen coyotes in the area, and I'm worried that there might be more to them than they appear. On the other side of the woods from me, there's a house. It's not part of my neighborhood, and I actually think it's another town since I'm right on the line. During the fall and winter, when the leaves are down, it's very easy to see through the woods to that house, and I notice they tend to keep weird and inconsistent hours. Sometimes the house has every light off as soon as the sun goes down and sometimes they're up until about 3 a.m. Sometimes I'm just getting up in the morning, someone is leaving for work, and sometimes there's no sign of any movement from there in the mornings.

They also have a light on their roof that I later found out is one of those old chicken-shaped weather veins that for some reason lights up at night. Nothing too unusual about that, except sometimes I see it flashing on and off all night, and sometimes multiple nights in a row. I've never actually spoken to any of the people that live there, and I barely even speak to anyone in my own neighborhood. However, one person who I have spoken to a bit is my next-door neighbor, Roger. He's an elderly man, probably in his 70s, and I think he's a widower. He has too much time on his hands, as I often see him doing lots of yard work, even though the neighborhood has a service that does that for us. He's also known to take on projects in other people's yards as well, and do work in communal areas.

This includes simple stuff, like taking people's trash cans to the curb, to their garage after the trash pickup has occurred, to larger stuff, such as trimming tree branches. I've joked that he's the unofficial caretaker of the neighborhood. I don't really talk to Roger often, but one time he told me that the people who live in the house on the other side of the woods are Native American. For some reason, I thought that might explain some stuff I've seen in the woods. See, I neglect to mention this before, but there's this crudely made tepee out of branches right off the trail. It's not really big enough for anyone to go into, but it's kind of cool. I have no idea who built it, but it's been back there for at least five years I've lived here. There's some

rocks in front of it, in a fire pit style, but they seem to change positions sometimes. and I've also seen what looked like beer cans from the 1970s in the vicinity. I wonder if that's when the TP was built. I'm not saying the Native Americans that live in the house are definitely behind the teepee, but it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities. Some of the old trailstone markers have what could be Native American drawings on them too, but again, anyone could have done that. I don't know whether the Native Americans are responsible for the stuff in the woods or not,

but I think they might have something to do with the increased presence of coyotes. As I'm sure many of you are aware, there's a thing called a skinwalker in Native American folklore in case anyone isn't familiar with them. Supposedly, certain Native Americans can take on the form of an animal by wearing the pelt of their fur. I've typically seen them portrayed as taking the form of wolves or coyotes, but I'm not sure if they're able to take on the form of other mammals too. When I first saw the coyotes, I didn't immediately make the connection. It was late August, and I was driving home one evening, just as the sun was starting to set.

As I rounded the corner towards my street, I saw what were two coyotes walking down the road. They definitely weren't foxes, and I'm pretty sure wolves don't live around here. So, they must have been coyotes. I had never seen a coyote around my house in the five years I've lived here, but I've always suspected they were around. I used to live a few towns over, and I'd occasionally see one there, and more often than not, I'd hear them howling. I actually thought it was kind of cool at first, as I love seeing animals.

A few nights later, I was chilling on my back patio, when I heard rustling coming from the woods. This wouldn't be the first time an animal in the woods scared me at nighttime. One time I was in my backyard in October. No doubt having just watched a slasher movie when I heard what sounded like heavy footsteps in the woods, it ended up just being a deer, but as you can imagine, the whole thing was a bit freaky, if only for a little while. This time, though, it was a coyote that walked out of the woods. I have no idea if it was one of the ones I had seen earlier in the day, or a different one, but it walked towards my patio and just stood

there for a second. I tried to take a picture, but all of the sudden it ran off back into the woods. As I went back inside, I noticed an outline of Roger standing at his back door. I wondered if he was watching the coyote too. I didn't realize this until later, but the outdoor lights of the Native American house had been on the whole time. It was at this point that I made the connection between the coyote and the Native Americans, and I started talking to my friend about the possibility of skinwalkers being in the area. Of course, my friend didn't really take me very seriously, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I took myself seriously. We both like to entertain the possibility of certain aspects of paranormal, including the existence of cryptozoology creatures

like skinwalkers and related creatures such as flesh gates or the goat man, but lack any concrete evidence. The next day, I saw Roger working in his garden, and I, I asked him if he had ever seen coyotes in the area. He said not for several years, but he was noticing them coming back. He also warned me to be careful if I saw them and not to get too close as they're prone to attacking. He seemed almost worried as he told me this. That night, I was back on my patio when I started to hear wrestling from the woods again. The sounds were coming from various spots in the woods, but I wasn't able to see anything. I then started to hear howling. some sort of noise that sounded like it was very close to me,

while others sounded further away. I noticed every single light on at the Native American house on the other side of the woods too, and was wondering if they were behind this after all. Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a loud bang, almost like a gunshot, and the howling stopped, followed by every single light at the house going off at once. I sat there for a few seconds when I noticed Roger standing in his backyard,

Get back inside, he told me. What's going on? I asked him. Get back inside, he repeated. Offering no explanation. I gathered my things and went back in. I watched out the window for a while and saw Roger standing at the edge of the woods. I realized that he was staring down a coyote.

After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, the coyote turned around and left. Roger stayed there a while longer before going back inside his house. The next day, I tried to get answers, but Roger wouldn't acknowledge what had happened. Several weeks had passed,

and I hadn't seen any coyotes or any other odd things going on. By this point, it was early October, and the events in that night in August had become a distant memory. I was coming home from work one evening when I saw Roger out in his garden, like I often did. I waved hello to him, and noticed him waving me over. I won't be able to take care of this neighborhood much longer, he told me.

I didn't understand what Roger meant, but he went on to explain that he was planning on moving closer to his children, and he just didn't have the strength to take care of the neighborhood anymore. I told him that he could always take it easy, and he didn't have to always be out and doing stuff on the street. But he said that's not what he meant. Roger stuck around for the rest of the fall, But one day in early December, he was gone.

I didn't even see any moving trucks. It was if he had just packed up and left overnight. I did, however, find a note he left taped to my door. The note read, I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly, but it's time for me to go now. I felt myself getting weaker this past summer, and I can't stay here much longer.

If you see a coyote, don't engage it. If you can, get indoors immediately. Otherwise, remained perfectly still until it has walked away. Good luck. I thought back to the night in August when the coyotes were coming out of the woods, and Roger seemingly scared them off. I know I had always joked about Roger being the unofficial caretaker of the neighborhood, but what if he was actually responsible for protecting it?

What if the Native Americans that live in the house on the other side of the woods have some connection to the skinwalkers, or are skinwalkers themselves, they seem to have some sort of ancient connection to the woods. What if they have the same sort of connection to the land beyond the woods that is my street? What if Roger's physical presence was able to keep the skinwalkers out of the neighborhood? He mentioned he hadn't seen the coyotes in the area in years and seemed worried when he told me about them showing up again. It was almost as if his power to keep the skinwalkers away was somehow weakening,

which is why they were able to show up in the area again. I know he was still able to keep them away that night in August, but the fact that they were able to get so close was a bad sign. That must have been what he meant when he said he didn't have enough strength to take care of the neighborhood anymore and that he's getting weaker. Maybe he knew that he'd soon be powerless to stop the skinwalkers and left for his own safety. I've been tossing this theory around for over a month now, but this is the first time I had written it down and read it back to myself. I know it sounds really weird, but the more I think about it, the more I believe it. As much as I like to entertain the existence of the paranormal, I do tend to look for logical explanations for everything,

but for this, I have none. The coyotes are getting closer, too. I hadn't seen any for a few weeks since Roger left, but on January 10th, it was a full moon. They call that one the wolf moon, because supposedly wolves tend to howl more at the moon, time of year than others. I didn't hear any wolves, but I heard something howling that night, and it sent shivers down my spine. This past Tuesday, I was driving home from work when I saw

a coyote crossed the road on the street right before mine. It seemed to be looking directly at me as it walked by. On Friday night, I was coming home from work when I saw a coyote standing right in my driveway. I honked my horn and flashed my lights at it. but it just stood there, staring right at me and growling. There was no way I was getting out of my car, and I sat there for about ten minutes and even contemplated driving away. But eventually, the coyote walked off. Then last night it was snowing a bit.

I turned on the light in my backyard to see how much snow had fallen and how heavy it was snowing. When I saw a coyote standing in my backyard, I was able to see the outdoor lights were on at the Native American's house, and their weather vein was blinking like crazy again. I quickly turned off the lights and closed the shades. I took a look in my backyard this morning and saw there were paw prints in the snow leading towards the woods.

The prince, however, stopped just in front of the entrance of the woods, and sets of human-looking footprints appeared ahead of them. I didn't dare follow them. With Roger, the neighborhood guardian, no longer living here, it seemed like there's nothing that will keep the skin walkers out. I don't know what will happen, but it's dark out, and I hear howling coming from the woods again. I am posting this because I am truly out of options. My employers refuse to take my reports, and have even threatened termination of my contract if I bring these events back to the table again. The local authorities are dismissive, or even worse,

accuse me of substance abuse and mental instability. I can't even tell my own family, lest they draw the same conclusions. I wouldn't want to drag them into this anyway. Hopefully some of you can help me, or at least help me understand what's going on. I have worked as a forester in the Appalachia for a logging company that will go unnamed for nearly a decade now. In that time, I have come to love my job, the woods, and the freedom that accompanies both. But things have started to change with my most recent assignment. The woods used to feel so safe, so clean. Now I can't stop my hands from shaking when I stand beneath the green canopy.

So we're all on the same page. I'll walk you through the fieldwork of my profession. First, the company assigns me to attractive land they have recently acquired. I do some less exciting prep work in the office, satellite imaging, GIS, property analysis, etc., and then I head out into the field. Generally, the sites are pretty far from the office, requiring multiple hour drives and overnight camping. I bring along some simple gear, tape measures, manual clenometer, and altimeter, bright neon orange marking spray paint, and my GPS transmitter, and my GPS transmitter, marker. All in all, a bunch of technical nonsense that lets me determine the value of trees,

which should be logged, and which should be left behind to ensure no permanent damage is done to the forest. Simple enough. It was early morning on September 21st, 2019, when my office desktop pinged that I had an incoming email. Seeing that it was an assignment from corporate, I opened it up and nearly let out a cheer in my cubicle. The track that I had to be a track that I had been assigned was a huge patch of old growth forest located near the Mangahela National Forest in West Virginia. For those of you who don't know, an old growth forest is a wooded area that has not been disturbed for hundreds of years, allowed to grow and develop in its natural state without intervention by farming, construction, or logging. Many old growth forests haven't

been touched since the settlers arrived, and some even before then. In any case, this was cause for celebration. Old growth is increasingly rare and amazingly beautiful, and I was the one assigned to explore it. Of course, this was bittersweet, seeing as I would be the last to see it in its undispoiled state before I gave the loggers the go ahead. I spent the morning in my office packing my things

and loading them into the tiny white Ford Ranger, lovingly nicknamed Piper, that the company had provided to me when I saw, started working for them. She was a rugged little thing, having carried me through the mountains for almost a decade without protest. Of course, she wasn't without her quirks, crank-operated windows, a rattling tailgate, and an AC that hadn't functioned since 2011. But I love that tiny little truck. Piper and I set out around noon, making good time on the four-hour drive through the rugged depths of West Virginia, we arrived at the old trailhead that would deliver me to my tract late

into the afternoon. As I strapped my heavy backpack on and locked Piper up for her stay at the edge of the woods, I breathed deeply, taking in the heavy scent of the forest earth and the sound of the wind and birdsong through the treetops. Giving my truck a pat on the hood, I turned and made my way off the country road and onto the narrow dirt track that wound into the woods. The hike to the old-growth stand of trees took about an hour of brisk trekking, the path becoming more and more overgrown as I progressed. It was obvious this trail hadn't been consistently used for years, probably decades. Nearly to my destination, I happened to cross what should have been the first sign that something was not right. An ancient sycamore tree

stood in the center of the path. Had it been any other species, I would have sidestepped and kept plugging ahead. But sycamores had always been my favorite trees, so I looked upwards to admire the old beauty. About 12 feet off the ground, twisted and woven through the tangle of white-barked branches, was a decomposing skeleton of a deer. Scraps of fur and mummified tendons the only things holding it together as it dangled from the tree. I gasped and stepped back. back from the initial shock, the staring skeletal visage of the old deer being the last thing I expected to see. My first thought was a mountain lion or a similar predator had hauled the animal up there to

feast upon. Carnivores like that were pretty rare in the area, but I had guessed it wasn't entirely out of the question. But my confusion spiked and the rumblings of dread gestated in my gut when I looked a bit closer. It was difficult to tell due to the distance from the forest's floor and the amount of time the deer had been up there, but as I squinted, I started to notice something haunting. The decrepit animal remains were not simply jumbled up in the tree branches. They were lashed into place by scraps of rope and cloth. Someone had hauled the deer 12 feet up in the sycamore tree

and tied its limbs and joints so it would stay suspended up there. Directly beneath the nearly completely rotted animal, barely visible due to age, was carved as simple, Oh, presumably put onto the bark by whoever took the time to create this macabre installation. I was understandably shocked and confused by this discovery, but the apparent age of the carving and carcass ease my worries a little. Whoever had done this obviously done their work months ago. I resolved that until I happen across fresher work, I was unlikely to run into anyone else out here in the woods. Having reassured myself for the moment and excited to lay eyes on the rare old growth. I carried on down the trail towards my destination. I reached the edge

of my assigned stand around 6.30 at night. The old ill-maintained trail terminating in a small clearing on the border of the forest I hiked through and the secluded acres of old growth that waited beyond. I gazed awestruck at what waited for me, ancient tree trunks that soared stories high, capped with dense foliage that cast the groves beneath the placid twilight. One of the defining features of old growth is the lack of understory. Smaller plants robbed of the sunlight by the canopy above. This means that you can see much further than you could in a different forest, where brush and vines might block your view.

In the old growth ahead of me, I could see deep into the canopy shaded woods, darkness enveloping the trees that grew and twisted and gnarled shapes. ancient beings shaped by countless years into warped and beautiful lines. I was nearly overtaken by the sight, a view so few people are able to look upon in this modern age. Even though I was nearly shaking with excitement to explore the acres' large stand of forest ahead of me, I knew that daylight would not last much longer.

I would have to push off starting my work until the next day, working quickly to pitch my tent and create a small stone ring to act as a fire pit before nightfall overtook my new campsite. The first night on the edge of the old growth forest was so quiet. As I lay tightly wrapped in my sleeping bag, staring up through the vent net in the roof of my tent toward the stars above, I heard almost none of the sounds one might expect from camping deep in the woods. No night birds called, no insects buzzed. The only sounds were the rushing of the wind through the leaves, and once, a mournful sound of an owl hooting somewhere within the ancient grove beyond the camp.

I sat there awake in eerie silence for nearly the entire night, partially perturbed by the quiet but mostly entranced by the beauty of the starlit sky filled with excitement for the day to come. I eventually drifted off to sleep around 2 a.m. At 5.30 in the morning, I was awoken by the electronic chirping of my watch alarm, signaling the start of my day. Grogly, sitting up, I immediately regretted not forcing myself to sleep earlier, yanking the zipper of my tent flap and exposing myself to the chill morning air. I rose to a stoop and began to exit my tent.

As my head left the tent, I stopped, frozen and staring. I was staring down the barrel of a pump-action shotgun, clutched in the hands of a middle-aged bearded man. He wore old flannel and denim, a stained old baseball cap over the same. the mop of gray hair. His face was cracked and split by intricate wrinkles. The telltale aging endured by a man who had spent his life outdoors. His gray eyes squinted as he met my shocked gaze, lowering the gun. Well crap, I'm sorry, son. I didn't expect anybody. What do you mean you didn't expect anybody? I asked. Anger boiling to the surface as the shock of surprise ebbed away. You walked into a campsite at five in the morning.

Why wouldn't there be anybody here? His gnarled face didn't change from its stony demeanor. Look, boy, I said I was sorry. No harm, no foul, right? He shrugged nonchalantly, irritatingly dismissive of the fact that he had a loaded gun pointed between my eyes mere moments ago. He slung the weapon over his shoulder

and extended a hand to help me out of my tent. Most tents you find up here are empty. It took a moment for what he had said to sink in. What do you mean? Like people come up here and dump their trashed old equipment? Disappointment began to brew as the thought of the old growth filled with trash entered my mind. Nah, son, nothing like that. Just exactly what I said.

The tents you find up here are always empty. The name's Randy. Randy Davidson. This plot belonged to my grandpa and his grandpa before him. His West Virginia draw was thick and slow as he gestured toward the old growth stand. Before Grandpa sold it to National Forest folks, eminent domain and whatnot. I furrowed my brow. Not only had I had the shock of my life less than a minute ago,

now I was listening to the family history of some Appalachian backwater dude. My patience grew thin. So is that why you go around poking in other people's stuff, scaring them when they wake up, for old time's sake? Randy squinted again, unimpressed with my impatience. Look, boy, all I'm going to say is you better watch yourself out here in these woods. Grandpa used to tell stories. I was happy to have the feds take his land off his hands.

Just pack up and leave is my advice. And with that, he turned and started walking away in the direction he came from. I stood there in uneasy silence and just watched him, go. Was that a warning or a threat? And what could he have possibly meant about empty tents? His message had surprised and confused me as much as his sudden appearance in my camp. The early morning light grew brighter and the mist that clung to the ground burned away as I gathered my things and prepared for my first foray into the old growth stand. I nearly inhaled my breakfast, excited to start my work. Then, pack filled and secure.

I stepped beyond the edge of the grove. The old growth was breathtaking. Ancient trees surrounded me as I walked, dark twisting shapes disappearing into the shadowy canopy high above. No underbrush cluttered the ground, just stoic old boulders and thick sheets of soggy moss. The dense cover of leaves above cast the entire huge stand in the eerie pall of cool shade. The heavy earthy scent of loamy earth and wet wood filled my nose and lungs. Pristine silence filled the forest. I set to work immediately, invigorated by my utterly gorgeous surroundings.

The noise I made was the only sound that echoed through the ancient woods around me, joining the quiet wind and leaves above. I identified species, measured trunk diameters, calculated height and slope, judged quality timber from trees best left standing. Dang, I thought to myself, Almost all of these trees were worth thousands of dollars in timber as individuals.

This stand of old growth alone would likely net the company over a million dollars after harvest. How had this place not been logged yet? With a metallic rattle and aerosol hiss, I marked the trees that would be best harvested with my flagging paint. With the forest floor so clear of undergrowth, the bright orange exes I sprayed on the tree trunks could be seen in the distance in every direction, looming out of the darkness and their obviously unnatural neon hue. It felt strange to be painting this place, so long left beyond the reach of humanity.

It was after 4 p.m. when I was finishing up the last sections of the stand I decided to work on today. There was a small, low valley near the center of the growth, edged by mossy boulders and muddy slopes. I had nearly finished marking the chosen trees in the valley when I came across something hauntingly strange. As I rounded the massive trunk of an old beautiful red oak, I saw it. Sitting in the middle of a tiny clearing, shaded by dark leaves above, was the rusted

hulk of an old RV. The paint was chipped and peeled away, almost to the point of non-existence, though there was still enough to make out the classic script of Winnebago. The tires were flat, sacks of rubber draped over rusted hubcaps. Moss grew over the windows of the abandoned. vehicle. At least the glass hadn't been shattered and dropped away. The side door hung open on failing hinges, revealing nothing but inky darkness inside. I slowly approached the derelict, wet moss and leaves squelching under my boots. How did this thing get down here? There's no way it could

have driven down these slopes of the valley, and there weren't any signs that it had fallen or crashed down there besides the ravages of time. The old RV, seemed undamaged. I stepped within a few feet of the Winnebago's open door. I fumbled through my backpack and produced my flashlight, noticing that the vehicle was ringed by a thick layer of heavy gray mud. Spurred by curiosity, I clicked my flashlight on and stepped on board the ruined RV through the broken door. As I did so, the eerie vehicle let out a wretched moan as a twisted spring shifted for the first time in what likely had been decades. I threw a glance back over my shoulder into the forest, suddenly feeling watched. All I noticed through the forest gloom were the neon

orange X's I spray painted on the trees, pointed at haphazard angles and particularly hidden by gnarled trunks. The interior of the RV was dark as night, even with the gloomy daylight filtering through the small sections of broken windows. The stark white beam, of my flashlight cut through the darkness. A circle of vision, too small for comfort. Something felt off the moment I was inside. The cabin of the vehicle was almost empty. Driver and passenger seats devoured down to metal frames

by generations of vermin. Krusty lichen encased the steering column. The cup holders held two metal thermoses. The words, number one dad and number one mom, just barely visible through the years of sylvan filth that had accumulated upon them. I turned my face to the main living space of the old wreck, silence thick on the air, and only cut through by the creeks of the moldering floor beneath me. The built-in couch here had also suffered the same fate as the cabin seats, devoured by rats

and insects searching for a nest. Cubboards hung open near the low ceiling, cardboard boxes of food within, reduced to pulp and slurry by years of exposure. I should have been. I should, shown my needle of light across the room, noticing the narrow door at the rear. It hung barely ajar, a crack of darkness, presumably leading to the RV's bedroom. As I stepped closer, a stench of mildew and wet dirt grew almost overpowering. With a groan of rusty hinges, I pushed the door open. My body ran cold as my flashlight beam settled on what waited beyond the doorway. Shocked, my breaths came quick and shallow as I took in the same. I took in the The room held a bed, mattress and blankets untouched by forging pests, but stained a deep black

brown by mold and who knows what else. Upon the bed was a heap of clothing, gathered from a suitcase half-hazardly left to rot on the floor around the bed. The clothes were stained the same shade as the foul mattress. I could make out at least four distinct sizes of clothing in the pile, two adults and two children. The stink of rotting vegetation was unimaginable. My hand shook, bobbing my light as they did so. As I gazed at the top of the pile, atop the wet heap of moldy old clothing

was a dripping carcass of a deer, broken and twisted at unnatural angles to allow the decaying thing to be propped up and opposed like a man sitting cross-laked. Its head was bowed towards me. What was left of the meat blackened, by rot. Its eyes had long since gone, leaving empty black sockets to stare into the dark. The cluster of mossy and scattered bones by the headboard revealed that this was merely the most

recent animal left there. The next, in a long line of deer propped up in this mess. Despite the dribbling animal wreckage before me, there was no smell of rotting, just the only wretched and overpowering odor of composting vegetation and decomposing fungus. Acrid vomit filled my sinuses and I bolted to the door behind me as I stuck my head and shoulders outside and prepared to wretch. My eyes laid upon fresh horror. The bright orange of my marking paint sprayed at half hazard and dissonant angles as I had wandered the valley, all faced towards me in uniformed stairs.

Every X I had painted down there looked towards me. Neon color, cutting through the forest gloom like electric eyes. The remainder of the food left my stomach. replaced by ice water as I lurch forward and vomited messily upon the mossy ground. Leaning from inside the RV, bodies shaking with confusion and terror. I wiped the tears from my eyes. The smell of rotting wood still clogged my nostrils. I stared at the splatter of fresh vomit below me,

attempting to comprehend what I was looking at. The steamy bile was collecting in a footprint of the sticky gray mud. My shaky breath rattled in my lungs as I stared. It was unmistakable. Fresh tracks in the mud that surrounded the RV. A complete circle that stalked around the vehicle. They were deep, pressed into the muck by something big and heavy. The tracks took on a shape of a half-human foot,

the long toes and forefoot, evident like the tracks of someone walking barefoot and tiptoeing. What? Even the partial footprints were bigger than the tracks I had left. How would something so large move so cold? quietly around the RV. I hadn't heard a thing from inside. I rose to trembling feet and took a cautious step outside. The old growth was utterly silent beyond my nervous panting. The bright orange exes still stared in my direction. Not one where I had originally placed it.

Crap, I thought to myself. I stood scanning the empty forest floor and listening for any sounds to pierce the quiet. Seconds passed, feeling like an eternity. and then I bolted. Fear pounded in my ears as I sprinted through the forest, never once slowing as I made for camp. The feeling of a cold, calculating look from unseen eyes never left my back as I ran. I skidded into my tiny camp on the edge of the stand as the sun began to dim in the darkening sky, nearly collapsing with exhaustion as the daylight that filtered through the trees above began to decay. As I panted and gasped with exertion, I surveyed my soul. surroundings. My tent and fire ring appearing untouched since I left this morning. As dusk settled over

the forest, my surroundings began to darken. It wouldn't be long until they were black as the old growth at my back. There was no way I could leave tonight. Even if I wasn't petrified to be out in the dark, there wasn't any chance I could find my way back to Piper through the dark and unfamiliar woods. My mind raced as daylight failed around me. Do I set a fire? and hope light and flames keeps whatever is out there at bay, or do I sit in the darkness and pray I stay hidden in the shadowy and silent camp? There was no good options. I tensed up as I fought panic from setting in.

Eventually the primal instincts of my cave-dwelling ancestors kicked in. Fire was the one tool that always served our kind against darkness and the things that lurked within it. I piled all of my firewood into the ring. I wouldn't need it for another night. And as the night fell, the glowing light of my bonfire lit the forest around me, faltering at the edge of the old growth. My camp surrounded in firelight.

I climbed inside my tent and sealed the zipper shut. I sat silently inside the thin nylon shell for hours, listening as the wind made the only sound beyond the crackling of the fire, which glowed through the walls of the tent. My hand shook and my spine prickled with nerve. My teeth chattered despite the humid heat that clung to me, sweat dripping from my brow. I moved slowly to check my watch. 3.30 a.m. less than two hours until I could flee this place.

I jolted as a sudden snap shattered the silence. The sharp cracking noise emanated not 20 feet from my tent and followed by cicado wrestling before sudden silence. My eyes were wide. The quiet, nearly imperceptible. rustling came again. Whatever was outside was still there. I slowly grasped the zipper and pulled it with my left hand, while fumbling about with my right hand until it came to rest upon my pocket knife. It was a feeble little thing, but as a gift from my dad, it has always found its

way into my pack. With my little blade clutched tight, I opened the door of my tent, slowly to keep the zipper quiet. I crept out into the night. The chilled air, shockingly cold, had as it connected with my overheated and clammy skin. The bonfire still burned, though it had run low as the night dragged on. Silently surveying the camp before me, I searched for the source of the hushed sound. Slowly my eyes was drawn upwards toward the bows of the trees. Two eyes reflected in the firelight staring back at me. Shock gripped my heart, and it took all of my willpower not to exclaim with fear and surprise.

The eyes went to the side, as if judging me. With more quiet rustles, the owl shifted on its branch, close enough to the firelight to reveal its identity. Relief flooded my body as I let out a quiet sigh. Then, true terror took over me as I noticed a huge shape in my peripheral vision. I slowly turned my head, tears welling up in my eyes. It sat waiting on its hunches, barely six feet away from me, dimly lit by the embers of the slowly dying fire. At first I thought it was a huge man, a giant living in the woods, but this thing was no human, never could have been.

It sat nearly curled in a fetal ball, long arms clasped to scrawny legs, and shoulders hunched. Its humanoid form was covered in greasy, pale skin stretched, taut over knobby bones and joints. The things elongated arms and legs were triple-jointed, Digil grade like the hind legs of a malnourished hairless goat. Its arms ended in hands, each bearing six long twitching fingers, tipped with ragged and blackened nails.

Its legs terminated in feet that may have been human, if they were not twisted and deformed, to allow the thing to walk its mud and filth-caped toes. It carried an unbearable stench of fungus and compost, but most horrible of all was its face. Atop its neck, rested in its head. its gaunt head, oily and pale skin reflecting the guttering flames in the fire pit. Its nose and chin were hideously long and crooked, not unlike the jagged and pointed figures stereotypical

of ancient witches. Its mouth was wide, pulled back to reveal black gums and long, blunt teeth that looked as if they had been taken from a human jaw and stretched cartoonishly to fit. Though it had no eyes, it stared intently at the owl in the tree. The twisted and hoaxed, hulking creature crouched beside me and slowly turned its head to face me. Barely visible, white orbs rolled and twitched in sunken eye sockets. The thing stared silently at me before raising a single finger to its drooling teeth. It let out a quiet, gurgling breath. Sh! Panic set my body ablaze. I scrambled to my feet, dropping my tiny pocket knife in the mud. The owl let out a shrieking protest as it took fight, spooked by the sudden movement.

As I stumbled backwards, starting my sprint into the pitch-black forest, the thing rose to its feet on its tri-jointed legs. The thing had to have been at least seven feet tall, but moved without making a sound. As I turned, it let out a hideous, gasping screech, a sound laden with ancient hate. I didn't look back, dashing through the underbrush, away from the old growth,

and leaving the empty tent to join the other, Randy had found. I don't know if it followed me. It was so big, but it moved so silently. As I ran, I didn't see it, didn't hear it, but the feeling of its look never left me. I ran blindly in the dark, whipping branches and bramble thorns at my face and hands. Sweat drenched me, pooling in my hiking boots. I didn't know how long I ran. At some point I must have collapsed with exhaustion, blacking out in the depths of the forest. I woke up in the glaring shine of daylight, filtering down onto my face through the trees.

My face and hands were caked with dirt. Two of my fingers were at least dislocated. Rising on shaky legs, I began my blind trek into the unfamiliar woods around me, hopelessly lost. I walked for hours, likely wandering in circles. My face and hands ached with a dull, pulsing pain. my skin itched and burned underneath.

Finally, I stumbled upon the forest trail, old and ill-maintained. I couldn't believe my luck. I had resigned myself to being lost, being alone and hunted, deep in the unsettled Appalachia. Tears welled up as I hurriedly limped down the path, and I nearly shouted with elation when Piper came into view. Fumbling my keys, I managed to unlock her and climb inside, slamming and locking the door behind me. As I fired the ignition and the truck started up,

the burning on my torso intensified, an awful itching sensation. Grimmissing, I quickly set to see what the cause of my discomfort was. As I did so, a subtle stench of old vegetation began wafting into my truck. I felt cold eyes staring from the fringes of the woods. I pulled my jacket open and the source of the itch.

Across my torso, spray-painted there with marker paint, was a bright orange X. The day I had been dreading finally came. After months of denied reports, quiet but heated arguments behind my boss's closed door, and the most intense procrastination ever known to man, the company sent me back to the old growth. You have to believe me, I fought it. But in the end, my protests were less than useless. I would have quit this job if I could, but I have bills to pay, fees to keep my parents cared for at their old age.

There was nowhere to hide. The neon orange marker paint that I had discovered sprayed onto the Forrester's X upon my torso had washed away easily enough, but it had left behind an angry red rash of scaly skin. The doctor told me that it was likely an allergic reaction to a chemical propellant in the aerosol, or a component of the paint itself. The itching rash had faded over time, but never fully disappeared. The faintest ghosts of the mark that haunted me, just barely visible to those who cared to look close enough.

I had completed one or two assignments since the experience I previously recounted for you all, working in Pennsylvania and around D.C. to mark up and measure tiny stands of trees just outside the bustling suburban corridors. Even in those minuscule groves of adolescent trees and shrubs, the green grove of the canopy sent shivers down my spine. I was a wreck in nearly every sense of the word, and I don't think anyone who believe me could blame me. The problem was that no one actually did believe me, not truly.

The email from the company heads came on March 2nd, 2020. When I saw it in my inbox, I sat silently staring in my cubicle for agonizing minutes. agonizing minutes, before finally resigning myself to cold acceptance. I scan the details with defeat. Return to parcel. Mononahela National Forest. Work imperative. Multi-million dollar stake.

Depart immediately. The rest of that morning is just a foggy blur, dragging myself through duties in preparation to return to the place where I had encountered something I could not explain. Something I could not forget. It must have been just before noon when Piper and I were roaring down the interstate towards the dreaded grove, acres of black woods and hidden things. I shouldn't have gone.

I have no recollection of the four-hour drive into the depths of West Virginia. The next thing I knew, I was standing next to my truck, engine clicking and popping as it cooled and settled, with my heavy pack slung over my shoulders. Ahead of me loomed a narrow trailhead that led to a forest the world had forgotten. With a shuddering breath, I staled myself and stepped into the woods. The sensation was so strange. My mind was caught in a vicious wrestling match between feelings of terror and the comfort of coming home.

I absent mindlessly pawned at the faded mark under my jacket as I tramped along the winding and undergrown path. Thoughts churned and changed with my aching mind. the things I had seen here, half remembered and half unforgettable, the splendor of the unspoiled forest around me, grinning, teeth, the endless awe of the old growth, I walked in a daze like man towards the gallows, or perhaps towards a holy relinquiry. By the time I walked around the old sycamore tree, just a few scant bones left lashing in its branches, I had regained my senses. The sights and sounds of the woods returned to me as I made it towards the old campsite.

I wiped away the watery stuff running from my nose. It was just cold out here. Only the first buds of the year starting to appear on the branches of the trees. This was about the time I began cursing to myself for coming back out here, but it was far too late now. Suddenly, I stepped out into the tiny clearing in which I had once made camp. On the far end of the, the break in the woods, waited the boundary of old growth, looming ancient trees cast in a shade of dark, old leaves that still clung to their storing branches, in stark refusal to let the sunlight desecrate the floor of the grove. Even in the latest days of winter and the earliest days of spring, shadow ruled the old growth

waiting ahead. As I stared, a chill wind whispered from between the tree trunks, stinging my face and whipping through the air. A grim thought crawled through my mind. Yeah, hello to you too. Pulling my gaze from the dark boundary ahead of me, I surveyed the small clearing. The ground was sodden and muddy with snow melt. The detris of water was fading away with the season. The shredded remnants of my old tent stood in half-hearted defiance of gravity. Poles bent and broken in angles, better suited to modern art, Slowly pulling open the door flap, of the mostly collapsed tent, I saw that all of the original contents were missing. My sleeping bag and backpack I had carried out here previously, nowhere to be seen.

I just let the tent flap fall back. There was no salvaging the nylon heap. Just as Randy, the local who had accosted me the last time I was here, had said, The tents you find here are always empty. I turn around to check the fire pit, less than a dozen feet behind me. The stones were still there, but not as I had left them. The rounded forest stones, now covered in crawling moss

and flaking lichen. They were stacked in a perfect tower that came up to stomach height, one on top of the other, they were balanced immaculately. The slightest breeze should have been enough to upset the delicate cairn, but the stones did not fall. Atop of the tower of stones, untouched by vegetation, age, or weather, was my pocket knife, dropped in the shock of my previous encounter here.

With a spiteful sniff, I snatched the knife and gave the stones a small kick, letting the tower crumble to a pile. I made camp in the clearing over the next hour or so, pitching my new tent and reconstructing the fire ring. I unfurled a large ball of twine I had brought with me, attached aluminum cans to it, as I laid a trapwire perimeter around my little oasis, Setting an alarm like this would do little to help me, should anything go wrong during my stay here,

but it eased my worry just the same. Just as night fell, I sat by my fire, listening to the silence of force that I knew all too well. I awoke in my tent in the early morning rays of the sunlight to the buzzing sound of my watch, letting me know it was time to work. I went through my morning routine, had my breakfast, threw my backpack on, stepped over my trapwire and marced as stoically as I could to muster across the clearing towards the waiting old growth. As I quietly stepped across the mossy floor of the darkened grove, I noticed one thing. My work was gone.

All of the bright orange axes I had marked upon the trees that were meant to be harvested had disappeared like the mist and the wind. That paint was designed to last as long as the logging projects may drag on, sometimes years. and I had sprayed it here merely six months ago, and now it was all gone. The bark of the trees, barren of paint and gnarled and blackened by hundreds of years, mocked me. Gritting my teeth, I began to work. I toiled for hours that day in the chilly March weather, the ancient forest around me, silent beyond the sounds of my work, measuring, mapping, marking. I went through my tasks quickly and robotically, never once shaking the undeniable sensation of cold eyes on my back.

Maybe my fear made me more perceptive, or maybe the forest, and what waited within, it simply chose to show me more than it ever had before. Whatever the case, I saw things. Rare sights that punctuated the hours within the stand, animal bones lashed two and dangling from branches that towered over the muddy ground, a bright yellow hunter's cap,

soaked with water and stuffed into a gap between boulders, the rusted lower frame and wheels of an old-fashioned baby carriage, a tangled pile of twine in aluminum cans, new and untouched by age or weather. There was less than an hour of daylight left as I finished my first day of work. I rounded the thick trunk of a massive honey locust. Stinging odor of the marker paint was still wafting from the fresh X I had marked there. Beyond the old tree was a steep forest pothole, perhaps a sinkhole that had collapsed thousands of years ago.

It had dropped merely five feet down and maybe ten feet across. Drawn by some human curiosity, I peered over the edge. The sides of the shallow pit were choked thick with roots and sheets of moss, creating a coiled mass of wet vegetation that stacked downwards, dangling in to the murky foot and half rainwater and snow melt that collected at the bottom of the white hole. The smell of stagnant water and something far worse rose up to meet my nose, causing me to recoil at the stench.

A shiver ran down my spine as I looked upon what floated in the pit below. Fur matted and oozing mud and rotting mold clung to bloated meat. The extremities revealed the darken and spongy remnants, soaked through with the stinking and stagnant water that filled the pool. The horrid thing had at one point been a large dog, perhaps a German shepherd, judging by the patches of fur. Strapped across the dog was an old backpack I had left behind the first time I came to the old growth. The sharp sound of a snapping twig came from behind me, and I whirled to face the noise.

Sudden shock gripping my racing heart. The man stood there, wrinkled and weather-beaten face below a stained old cap. I recognized Randy Davidson a split second before he spoke. Well, I'll be gone, he drawled, recognition sparking in his eyes as gray as his hair. The remnants of the old rash on my torso twitched dully. It's you again. What are you doing back out? His question was suddenly cut short as a massive pale shape lunged from the growing shadows around us. The hulking white thing moved soundlessly as it took Randy into the muddy ground.

He let out a gasp as the air was knocked out of him. With inhuman speed it whipped around to face me, and my existence ran cold as I laid eyes on its all-too-familiar grin and greasy flesh. The stench of the rotting moss wafted over me. Pale orbs twitched in their membrane-covered sockets as the horror struck in me. A single triple-jointed arm reaching out and bashing into my torso. The thing hit with the strength of a feral beast, bolts of pain shooting through my torso. The lightning-fast strike sent me skidding. and stumbling backwards, the feeling of weightlessness overtaking me as I tumbled into the pit

at my back. I was still attempting to get air in in response to the creature's strike when I hit water, stinking liquid rushing in. I had landed almost directly onto the dog. I lurched upwards out of the shallow pool, alternatively gasping for air. Adrenaline roared in my ears. I could hear the sounds of struggle above, crashing branches and spattering mud accompanied by Randy voice of terror, I scabbed at the slick moss and roots around me, attempting to haul myself out the short distance of the sinking pit. Slipping on wet vegetation and collapsing mud, I managed to drag my shoulders above the edge of the sinkhole. I saw Randy struggling against the pale thing that stalked the old growth, pinned to the ground with its hooked nose mere inches from his face.

I watched in horror as the thing craned its neck downwards with an almost serpentine sway, joints creaking as it did so. It parted its long, blunted teeth. His screams were muffled as the thing leaned in. They held their struggling as I hauled myself out of the pit. Then it craned backwards, turning its face to meet my terrified stare. Randy had a breath, its teeth clenched in a disgusting mockery of a grin. I sat up on all fours at the edge of the pit as it released Randy,

spectral grace, bellying its monstrous sighs as it raised. rose to its full, towering height. Joint and tendons creaked within its gaunt self, as it took slow and purposeful steps towards my prone form. A deep, cloaking click slowly emanated from the depths of it as it reached towards me with its black fingernails. When all of a sudden I was yanked to my feet and dragged to the side, it was Randy, coughing as he pulled my jacket collar.

Come on and run, he gasped, not letting go of me as he began sprinting into the woods, that surrounded us. I pumped my legs to keep up, the speed of terror propelling me. We dove through the old growth, ancient trees seeming to twist around us in the growing darkness. Mud clotted our boots and threatened to pull us into the ground with every step we took. I followed Randy, hoping he had a destination and was not simply running into the woods in a panic. Looking over my shoulder, I could not see the thing following us, but I could hear it somewhere and the gloom as it laughed and called. Noises like the hellish fusion of a squealing pig

and a cackling lunatic. I don't know how long we fled into the darkening night. The sun had disappeared completely by the time we stopped, panting for a breath and nervously eyeing the woods around us. Randy kneeled over with his hands on his knees and waved a finger past me. I turned to check what he was pointing at and saw a dark shape blooming out of the darkness.

The blocky bulk of a light. cabin. I helped Randy towards the structure as he fumbled around in his pocket, producing and jangling a heavy laden key ring. He seemed sluggish, as if the run had taken a steep toll on him. We crossed the creaking porch with haste. The cabin was a plain thing of log timbers, beaten and drained by weather and age until they were desiccated and gray. I stared grimly at the wooden door, which bore a crude and obviously recent carving of an X. Randy put an old-fashioned iron key into the lock and pushed the door open, hurrying inside. I followed.

Randy fumbled ahead of me in the darkness, rattling objects which I could not see. I heard the tale-tale sign of laughter followed by a flash of Flint. Then, after a few seconds, the flickering glow of a tiny fire set dancing, illumination to weakly fill the space around us. The cabin was tiny, one room of maybe 15 feet on each side. A small cast iron stove, caked beyond usefulness by thick layers of rust, with an old pile of firewood at its side stood to my right. Directly ahead was a square table on which rest, an electric gathering of woodworking tools and dining utensils in a half-hazard stacks, as well as the flickering candle that Randy had lit. Two stools waited, tucked underneath the table's edge. At the back of

the room was a simple bed, sheets stretched across the lumpy mattress, almost entirely eaten by moths and mice. Small glass-painted windows glinted in the candlelight. Everything was drenched in dust and a smell of mildew, obviously untouched for years. Randy lurched past me, slamming the door shut and ramming the lock closed. As he moved close to me, I could smell foul sweat rolling down his pores. Help me lock the shutters, he said. I moved to oblige him, pulling the heavy wooden shutters over the small windows and looping the hook locks closed. He talked quietly as he worked to close the windows on the other side of the cabin. Great grandpa's hunting cabin. Came out here once or twice when I was a kid with my old man to check on the property

after my grandpa sold it off. He paused to expel a hacking cough. Lucky I even remembered where it was. I glanced over my shoulder as I moved to the final window on my side of the room. Randy, what is this thing? Your guess is as good as mine. I ain't never seen anything like it before in my life.

I heard him take a shaky breath. My granddad used to say something wasn't right about these woods. Would tell us things. My old man would spin him off or spinning ghost stories. Well, what do we do now? I never should have come back. The hinges creaked as I forced the shutters against the window. Yeah, maybe you shouldn't have.

Randy trailed off as he struggled with his own window behind me. Randy, I probed as silence began to grow. As I slowly turned to see the cause of the quiet, a foul sound and stench got to my senses. A wet, rumbling expulsion of gas and a vicious spattering upon the ground, and the burning odor of sickness, sulfur, brought stinging tears to my eyes. What? Randy? Are you kidding me? The angry words stopped as I whirled around to face him.

Randy stood facing me, shivering in place. His face, gaunt and pale, streamed with sweat and tears, which ran down and pooled in his deep wrinkles of his skin. Dark circles the deep purple of an old bruise had formed under his eyes, which stared blankly ahead. His nose dribbled with spit and mucus. Randy whispered in a quiet, well dang. Before going to the ground, sliding down the old timbers to lay against the cabin wall, fighting back panic, I rushed to his side.

He rolled his head weakly to face me. Oh my, Randy, what's happening? I took his sweat-drenched hand in my own. Grandad got sick like this. Came back from the woods one night. Came back like this. Randy let out a slow cough. Nobody ever knew what happened.

He didn't even make it through the night. That it had got him. Nobody knew what he was talking about. Help me. As he spoke, the boards of the cabin porch let out a creek. Randy let out a noise. Oh no, please. He stared at me.

me with begging eyes toward me. Please, get me. The X-shaped rash on my torso felt as if it were on fire. Slow, taunting scratching rattled along the floor. With his free hand, Randy at my side, his face was a shattered mosaic of pain and strenuous effort, drenched in sweat of sickness. With a weak sound, he brought his head up, clutched his pale and shaking fingers with my pocket knife. the one my dad had given me long ago. He pressed and folded the blade into my hand. Please don't let me go like my grandpa did. He softly baked.

The door at my back groaned as slow, even pressure was applied. Randy's sorrowful, cloudy eyes stared at me. My torso was a stinging matrix of pain. I held my breath as I stared at the little implement in my hand, then back at Randy. There was a sharp pop and a clatter as the lock snap, and fell to the floor behind me. He gasped for a final moment before falling silent,

further slumping soundlessly. I kneeled there sobbing as the floorboards behind me creaked with a heavy weight. A click emanated directly from above me. I closed my eyes. A heavy hand came to rest on top of my head, inhumanly long fingers stroking my face. I sat immobile as creaking joints moved above me. More deep chittering.

the sound of dragging in a heavy thump. The hand left my head. The sounds and creaking floorboards retreated towards the door, and then were replaced by the cracking of something dragging across the forest floor deeper into the old growth. I sat in the cabin, eyes tightly shut, until weak rays of sunlight warmed my back through the open doorway. I opened my aching eyelids. Randy was gone. He was pulled away, leaving behind a dark, trail which disappeared into the woods. I rose to shaking feet. Mindlessly, I wandered the old growth. I trudged, unfeeling and unthinking. I must have stumbled circles around the forest for hours. In the end, I found myself staring at my truck, my fateful old piper, through bleary eyes.

On the stark white paint of her hood, smeared, was a huge Forrester's X. A squealing cackle echoed somewhere in the distance of the woods. Where the lines crossed in the center of the hood rest my pocket knife, clean and folded. The world has all but forgotten the old growth, but I never will. Imagine your worst nightmare coming true. Scary, right?

Well, for some people, it's a lot more terrifying. I live in a small town in the north. It's your cliche everyone knows everyone. John's barbecue and grill is being held after church service on Sunday, kids playing hopscotch with the other three kids their age, and of course, almost everyone is living the American dream, white picket fences surrounding a two-story home with their kids and dog.

I say almost everyone, because some of us aren't so lucky. Yeah, sure, you could say I had a rough childhood. It wasn't the worst, though. I still had a roof over my head, and food to eat, and some friends. Well, behind my house, there are about 10 acres of land. Great for hunting, bad for getting lost.

My parents, the kind souls they are, would let people hunt behind their house for free if they'd like to. Many people did. Of course, since it was free, the word went around town pretty quickly, and more and more people asked us to hunt. As more people asked, we obtained a reputation.

Teens would say it's haunted, but the parents would make them hush up and be friendly. Of course, they were friendly. A town that is so worried about their own reputation, they get obsessed over every conversation. After working so hard, they wouldn't let their children soil it. The first Saturday night I returned home for winter break

was easily the most horrifying experience I had ever witnessed. During my freshman year of college, I finally caught a break. A winter night, colder than an ice box. Well, that's expected. It's winter in the north. I was pretty bored and decided to call my friends to hang out. I called Sammy, Charles, and Alex. That was a mistake.

Sammy, Charles, and Alex were all bored and thought, why not? They came over to my house, and after watching a few movies, in the living room. We all were bored. We tried playing Monopoly, but Charles cheated and ruined the fun. Sammy jumped up like a kangaroo and asked, do you want to go back into the forest back there? Explore a little? No way. First of all, it's way too cold out there. Secondly, we could get lost super easily. It's snowing, so we would probably lose our tracks and never find our way out. And what if there's ghosts? You know the reputation it has, Alex exclaimed.

Relax, Alex. We don't know if there's any ghosts there or not. Besides, we can just take some string or something, so we don't get lost. Charles replied, Well, it'll be fun, right? Just a few minutes in there, we'll be fine. We won't get lost. I tried to convince myself it would be fun,

although I had always hated my backyard. I'm not a kid anymore. I can face my fears. Plus, the rumors were just immature teenagers trying to scare each other, right? Danny, are you serious right now? You hate that forest. Alex replied,

I know, I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle it. Plus, those rumors must have been just rumors to scare each other. The last time I went into that forest was two years ago. I didn't see anything noteworthy, I said. Okay, fine, I'll go. But if we see anything, I'm the first one out of there.

Got it? Alex said. Great, yep, got it, Charles replied. Okay, I said. I may be scared, but I'm not going alone. It'll be fine. Yeah, it'll be fun. I grabbed four spools of thick string, green, red, blue, and yellow, and four flashlights.

We were walking outside when we realized how cold it was. I checked my phone. The weather app says it's only 20 degrees Fahrenheit, but it felt like maybe 12 degrees, if not less. The snow was up to our ankles. Luckily, we had boots. It felt as if we were standing in a thick slushy. Can we please hurry this up? I'm really cold, Alex said. Yeah, aren't we all? Sammy, Charles, and I replied.

We continued walking until we got to the tree line. There were trees of all different sizes. Large, compact, lanky, narrow, overgrown. Any type of tree you could think of, it was there. The numerous branches had thick, fluffy snow on it. It was dark out. In the forest, it was always dark, though. The innumerable branches blocked any light from the moon and stars. Today was no different. I don't know why, but it felt much more isolated tonight. If it wasn't for my friends, I wouldn't have even gone close to the tree line, let alone actually go into the forest.

Well, time to get this over with. I gave everyone their respective string color. me blue, Alex yellow, Charles red, and me. I had green. I tied the strings to a tree, then to the person. The strings would allow us to go about 3,000 feet into the forest. That was more than enough for us. As we all know, it's colder than an ice bath, I said. Yeah, it's an ice box out here. I can feel my bones forming ice flakes. Charles replied, comfortably. Sammy snickers as Alex frowns. Well, which way are we going? Want to split up? Sammy suggests. Are you serious? I finally agree to come out here and you're already joking.

Alex replies disapprovingly. Oh my, Alex, take a chill pill. It was a joke. I wouldn't want to lose you in this forsaken forest. We'll stick together, so let's hurry up and get walking. Sammy says excitedly. We start walking, but going very slow due to the abundant amount of snow. We're only about 20 feet from the tree line, and the amount of snow has doubled. It's now at our shins. Well, I hope there isn't any additional snow further in. It's pitch black, so I handed everyone a flashlight.

We continued walking until we hit a shallow river. Must have only been a few inches. I've never been this far into the forest. I assume we're about 200 feet in by now. My nose and ears are freezing, and I could barely feel my hands through my leather gloves. What is that? Alex says, shakily. She sounds as if she's on the brink of tears. What? What's wrong? What do you see?

I turn around to try to find her, pointing my flashlight in her direction. I almost dropped my flashlight. Alex has already dropped hers. Charles and Sammy mutter under their breath. Oh, no. A spindly, humanoid creature is crawling on the riverbank. It had penetrating yellow eyes, a mouth with teeth so sharp and decayed.

The top of its head is caved in and appears to have some sharp teeth protruding out of it. The limbs were nothing but bones covered in pale white skin. Our flashlight stopped working. What is that? We dash toward the tree line. It's so hard to run shin deep in snow. Was I just imagining that?

Nothing in the world looks that scary. Is the icy weather getting to my head and causing hallucinations? I felt my heart beginning to race and my head ached. My whole body felt uneasy and lightheaded. Alex, Sammy, Charles, where are you? I yelled. I could barely see. Danny, is that you?

Charles came out, leaning against the tree for support while trying to catch his breath. Yeah, it's me. Did you see that thing? Are you okay? Where are the others? I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. Are they okay? Did that thing take them?

I don't know what that was. We need to go back and search for Sammy and Alex. A voice came out of the forest. Don't worry, we're fine, Sammy replied. Both Sammy and Alex came out, holding each other's hands. Alex, just like Charles, was propped up against a tree for support. Let's get out of here. I ran as fast as I could in knee-high snow.

I saw something in the corner of my eye. Is that a man in a cloak and a top hat? No. The weather got to my brain. I'm seeing things now. I arrived at the sliding glass back door. Hurry, I yelled to Sammy and Alex. Once they entered, I slammed it shut, locked it, and closed the curtains.

I ran to turn on the heater and put the teapot on to boil. We were all in hysterics. That thing must have been a malnourished coyote. Nobody wants to talk about it. Yet, I guess that's understandable. I don't want to interrupt the silence. Everyone just needs to gather their thoughts and calm down. Well, don't just stand around here.

What was that? Sammy cried. I don't know. Obviously, it was something like a ghost, Alex replied. I'm going home. Sorry, Danny. I can't stay here, Charles said. Yeah, I'm going too.

Good night, Danny. Stay safe. Sammy declared. Wait, wait. Please don't leave me here alone. They can't just leave me here alone with that thing, can they? I'm going with Sammy. I'm sorry.

Bye, Alex said, sounding panicked. So, they're just going to leave me, just like that. How could they? Fine, I'll just stay here. It can't get me inside here. With the sounds of the door closing, the teapot whistles, sounding like a baby bird screeching for food. I poured myself a cup of water and put in tea and honey.

I walk upstairs, sit on my bed, recounting what it just occurred. As I lay there, it feels more and more lonesome. I decide to visit my parents' old bedroom, expecting the dark hardwood floors with matching furniture, a paper-white bedspread with floral laces on the edges, pictures framing the walls with photographs of all. the places they have traveled to. Man, I miss them. I miss their sweet vanilla scent. It's only

been seven months since they're passing, but I still think about them every day. When I'm about to open the door, it hits me. This intense feeling of dread is clogging my senses. As I look up, I see it. Crouching on the bedspread is that thing, the thing that we saw in the forest. Its eyes, still that soul-stealing yellow. My head feels like it's about to explode. I feel nauseous, but I can't move. Why can't I move? Someone, please help me. I need to get out of here. I try to lift my leg, but nothing comes of it. After what seems like an hour, I can finally move. I bolt to the bathroom, almost tripping my way there. It's here too. This time, it's standing. A hundred hungry look on its face while it reaches out its hand. Those fingers, I can still envision those

long, skinny fingers. Attached to them were nails that were sharp as an ice pick. Its skin looked as if it was melting off. I could see the bones under its melting skin. Under the pale white skin, it was red. I ran to my room. Luckily, it's not in there. I hid in my closet. That's where I am now, writing this, I can hear it prowling around looking for me. I know it will eventually find me. This series of supernatural events I'm going to recollect to you has been kept extremely confidential and non-disclosed for a good 15 years. I was involved with this particular case back when I was a rookie, only being an officer for about a year and a half. All areas and people I were referred to in this story have had their names changed to protect their identity as well as my job.

The first time I was introduced to this case was when my partner and I were called to investigate a missing person. The person who I will refer to as John was a camp host for one of the campgrounds in our local forest, which was a part of our district. The person who reported him missing was a middle-aged woman who worked at a local lodge. We asked her a few basic questions, such as such as how long he had been missing, which were about two days, and how did she know he was missing? She told us that he would always come to the lodge for a pack of smokes each morning, and had been doing that for the past two months, so when he didn't show up for two days in a row,

she became suspicious. I then asked her how he acted, and her response intrigued me at the time when she said, John was the quiet type, not saying much to anyone, other than the occasional hello. He never brought food or supplies here, and I didn't find out why until one day I offered him a free gallon of milk that was about to expire the next day, and he gave me a disturbed look as if I was trying to give him poison. I soon figured out that he didn't trust food that he didn't make himself. He was extremely antisocial, and I wouldn't be surprised if he went off to live in the woods by himself. She answered a few more questions pertaining to the case, but

nothing I need to inform you about. Soon after we finished questioning her, we went to go check out the campground he was in charge of, which was only about five miles from the lodge, but on a winding dirt road that went up the side of a mountain. When we first arrived to the campground that John was in charge of, we noticed that it had not been well kept and maintained. The fire pits were full of ashes, and the bathrooms looked as if they hadn't been cleaned for months, with many different substances and graffiti coating their walls. After we surveyed the other campsites and introduced ourselves to the families who were camping there, we went to visit the man's trailer, which was isolated at the end of the loop.

Surprisingly, his campsite was clean and had been taking great care of. It was when we entered the man's trailer that the smell hit us. It stunk so bad that I expected to find him rotting away in there, but he was nowhere to be found. I tried to turn on the lights to see better, and they flashed on for a fragment of a second, but quickly went out. That's when I realized the smell must have been coming from the fridge. Everything inside must have spoiled due to the power being out. I went over to open it, but wish I never had, because when I did, the gust of wind that came from within it literally caused my

eyeballs to burn. Being blinded for a moment, I bent over and rubbed them to, frantically. My partner came over wondering what was wrong when his eye caught what was in the fridge. Oh man, that's disgusting. He muttered as I lifted my head to see what he was looking at through my red eyes. There in the fridge was a carcass of a squirrel, a few birds, and lastly, what looked like chopped up pieces of deer that still had fur attached to it. Everything was rotting away, and the flies that lingered in the trailer, swarmed the fridge, with my partner, who I'll refer to as Daniel, quickly shut. We briefly looked around to see if there was any evidence that could give us a clue what happened to this man. Right before we were about to leave, I saw the edge of what looked

to be a book poking through underneath the mattress. I grabbed it and walked out of the trailer to escape, that dreadful smell that had my eyes still burning and watering. The book felt cold in my hand, even though the sun was blazing. Upon opening it, I felt the world around me seemed to stop as the wind came to a halt. Even the bird stopped chirping. Do you feel that? Daniel asked me, as he looked about. What? I replied, wondering if he felt the same silence that I did. Can't really explain it, but I feel as if something's watching us, he said as his head twisted about. I don't know if my mind was playing tricks on me, but I felt that same eerie feeling. Yeah, and did you hear everything go silent? I asked back, wondering what was going on. Uh-huh, let's report back to the chief and get

out of here. He said, while walking back to the vehicle, we then heard a raspy whistle, cutting through the silence that caused us to quicken our pace trying to leave the area as fast as we could. Glancing at the book in my hand, I wondered what to do with it. I was supposed to turn it in as evidence, but decided to hold on to it for just a bit before turning it in. I was honestly curious to see what type of book this guy had because of how unusual he seemed to be. Looking back now, I wish I would have just turned it in as evidence because what I found inside was sickening to the very core. While my partner Daniel drove us back into town, I started to to read the book, which I soon found out was actually the man's journal due to how everything

was handwritten and some pages had illustrations. It was all unsettling and off the bat. I could tell this man had some demons lurking inside of his head. I will go more into depth with what was written and drawn in the journal later. But as of now, I need to state that the chief that's over my department ever found out that I stole this journal and then disclose the details of the case online without prior consent, then I could risk losing my job. So I hope no one recognizes this, because this case involved many people whose experiences and testimonies of what happened will be shown. Anyway, when we get back to the station, we had already reported everything we found out about this man over the radio, and they were able to properly ID him. The strange thing is that they didn't

have much on him, since he'd been out in the woods for so long. He only had one living relative left, that was his mother. The only thing that we were able to pull up under his name was that when he was 13, he accidentally burned down his parents' house during the night due to unknown reasons. One account states that he said he was performing a ritual of some sort. Satanic or not, this missing person was unlike any person I had ever investigated since. Continuing to the main subject matter, this case involving the camp host has been by far the most mystic. serious case I had ever investigated. Everything that had happened up to the point of when I stole the journal was the only shallow part of the story, but little did I know that I would soon find

myself in the deep end of the pool. What we found out there could cause any sane person to have a mental breakdown. This was only the beginning of a nightmare. To continue after the first part of this, I'm going to be showing you the account we received from one family in particular who were staying at the camp when the camp host supposedly went missing. This conversation was recorded and then transcribed and is shown below. Officer Daniel, did you notice anything strange before the camp host went missing, such as did you see anyone else roaming around his campsite or anything suspicious? The mother.

Well, when we first got here, we tried to introduce ourselves to him, and he just ignored us until we left. He seemed mentally unstable and unfit to be maintaining this campground, and was often whistling with a raspy uneven tone, which got annoying when we were trying to enjoy the sounds of nature. Also, one weird thing that was during one of the middle of the nights we heard something that sounded like hammering coming from outside our tent. My husband went to investigate, and we found the camp host chopping firewood next to a roaring fire, and it was about three o'clock in the morning.

That was the last time we saw him, and there were many other strange things that went on around the camp hosts campsite. Officer Daniel, did he seem intoxicated at all during any of this? Maybe he was unstable. The father. We tried to avoid him the best we could, so we aren't exactly sure if he was drunk or anything like that. Officer Daniel. Is there anything else that you saw that we should be aware of? The teenage son.

I don't know if this pertains to this case, but I went hiking with my younger sister up the side of the mountain over there, and while we were hiking, we found something. Officer Daniel, what did you find? The teenage son. Well, you see, I'm not exactly sure what it was, but someone had definitely been doing something up there. Officer Daniel, describe it, please. The teenage son. We found a patch of trees that had bones strung up in their branches as if someone had tied it to them.

In the middle of the patch of trees were rocks that were placed in a strange circular type thing. And in there was a straight stick that held what looked to be some animal's skull. Around the circle posted on the trees were pictures of people. I'm going to stop at this point in the interview because he had many questions that were not essential to know, but what the teenage son had hiked in on was what we investigated next. By the time we were interviewing these people, search and rescue had gone out into the forest, but never found him.

They did find some random cigarette butts mixed in the dirt, which tied back to him, buying a pack of them a day from the lodge. So they thought they were close to finding him. However, they still couldn't trace exactly where he went. While search and rescue were doing this, my partner and I were in charge of investigating the place that the teenager had described to us. When we finally found it, based on the description of how to get there from the boy, we took pictures of the area.

It was a strange place, and the random pictures of people posted on the trees, all angled to where any of them could be seen if you stood in the middle of the rocks. I examined the photos, trying to see if I could recognize any of the people, when Daniel said, Isn't that the girl that went missing in the woods last summer? Walking over, I examined the picture, and it matched the photo of which our police department put in the newspaper, wondering if anyone had seen her around.

Yeah, that's the girl, but why would someone put her picture here? It just doesn't make sense to me. You don't suppose that these are all pictures of people who have gone missing. Daniel asked as he looked around. Only one way to be sure. Let's take a picture of each one and send it back for analysis. Maybe this is some weird shrine someone created, or it could just be a trophy shelf of someone's victims.

Who knows, we might just soon find a picture of the man we are looking for up in one of these trees. I responded while brushing my stubby beard. Daniel agreed, and we photographed and documented the area. While we sent this information in, I decided to read some of what was written in the man's diary that I had taken to take from his trailer. It was a random disturbing segment in a page from it, and it goes as follows. I need to appease it somehow, but I can't. It's following me everywhere I go, and there's near nothing I can do about it. Every time I feel it, get close behind me. I dart around,

and nothing's there. I see people in camp smiling and having the time of their lives, not knowing of the evil I have just done. This is what I couldn't understand in the man's writing at the time was that he seemed as if someone or something was trying to get him, but there was no evidence proving that this was true. There was no forced entry into the man's trailer. It was as if he just vanished without a trace. Later, Daniel and I were notified about who the pictures were of, and the answer was mind-boggling. Every single one of those people had gone missing in that forest area, ranging from 20 years ago, all the way up to present day. Either someone or someone or was being insensitive and made this, or this could be a trophy case of someone's victims,

whose disappearances were all blamed on going missing in the woods. All I knew at the time was that this case was beginning to grow far past than just the simple missing person. Sometimes one person's perspective is completely different from the other, even if they are observing the same thing. That is one rule I learned while being an officer. Always be prepared to know that you aren't prepared at all. For this posts in the series, I'm going to read another submission from the missing person's journal

that at the time of when this occurred, gave me more insight to what truly happened to him, but still there lingers a mystery in the crevices. John's journal entry a month prior before going missing, my mind spins at the possibility of what I can do now that I have finally found the ingredients needed. I write this in here as my heart races with excitement of the powers I will soon possess. on the things I'll be able to do when I gain the strength of ten men. However, this ritual is still unclear and could backfire terribly, but I will obey the rules given and not cross my boundaries or lines.

My life depends on it. Next entry was the night before he supposedly went missing. What I have done jumping into something so stupidly, having people around and to be caught off guard as I was, The ritual was going perfectly until that camper came to complain to me about chopping wood in the middle of the night for the fire. He slowed me down

and I wasn't able to place the piece of wood in the fire at the exact time for everything to work properly and now I've unleashed a shadow beast into these woods. One made up of human misery born from flames who can only go by the same. But as soon as it arose from the flames it inhumanly darted into the woods escaping the words I tried to mutter out to cease it from existing,

but now there is nothing I can do to stop it. Its hunger for a host is unquenchable. I know that soon it will come for me, but I will be the first of many. If I do not write again, I bid this cruel world farewell. This was the last entry in the journal, but the last one I showed you in the previous post where he wrote about being followed.

So furthermore, these are some of the last sentences he's ever written. That thing is trying to get me, but I have no idea what it wants. It wanders close to me at night, out of sight, waiting for me to lay down my guard, but it could have got me many times already, but it hasn't, and I truly don't know why.

The only thing that I can imagine is this thing wants to take over me, possessing me and gaining complete control of my actions. Soon after, it would commit the most heinous crimes that anyone could imagine. If this would happen, it would probably destroy the shrine I made to pay respect to the ones who've gone missing, to the wandering spirit I unleashed into the same forest about 20 years ago. All of those people gone because of me, and I fear that if I don't maintain that shrine, they will come back to haunt me. I have dug myself a hole too deep to get out of, and now I pay the consequences.

If someone finds this journal after I am gone, then you need to understand this. That thing won't rest no matter what and can only be eliminated by fire. Torch the forest for all I care if that's the only way you can eliminate it. Also, if I end up missing, whatever you do, don't go looking for me, because it won't be me. After reading that last sentence for the first time, my body ran cold, but my young instincts kept reminding me that most of the things that this guy wrote in his journal didn't make any sense. So as one of the pages had nothing but gibberish scribbled on it with pictures of a human goat thing, with a long snake-like tongue.

So I took everything he wrote with a grain of salt. In general, the book as a whole just gave me bad vibes every time I held it or dealt with it. After I finished reading through it, and trying to understand everything this man was talking about, I slipped the journal in with the other evidence involved with the missing person's case. No one even noticed because this forest was known too often to have people go missing, which meant that cases like this one weren't a priority. However, all these people going missing made me think about when John wrote about releasing a wandering spirit into the woods, and he made that strange shrine that the teenager stumbled upon to try to appease the spirits of the people who were taken by it.

In my entire life, I never would have thought that something this dark could occur in my hometown, where I spent the majority of my youth playing in the same woods, because there's not much else to do in a small town like this one. Being involved in this case made me never want to do anything outdoors again, because who knows what's lurking out there, among the trees. All of this seems so crazy to me at the time, and the time and effort put into the case was all meant to find some lunatic who believes conjuring spirits and gaining powers through rituals and other strange things like that. Again, I was a young rookie at the time, and now I fully understand that there's something in this world, which are best left alone and untouched, because for all you know,

you could be getting yourself into trouble with a much deeper force than you could possibly imagine, like John did. The next post will be my last of this personal story of mine, because I fear that my coworkers and other people I haven't told you about yet we'll catch on to this and know it was me who disclosed the information to the public. This will be the last post involving this personal story of mine, because I've already been hearing rumors at work about somebody who's leaking private information involving a case, but I'm not sure if they think it's me or someone else.

The best thing for me to do is to end it here and lay low for a while. But I hope the chief from my department is not reading scary stories posted on the internet, it, so he won't find this. With that, out of the way, I must tell you how everything went down those last fatal days when my partner and I were still working on the case. With the days passing by, and no strong evidence showing what truly happened to this man being brought to the table, this case was going to become cold and even given up on, and he would just be another missing person ad in the newspaper. At the time, I was sick of dealing with this case, mainly because, After we first went into this man's trailer, I looked into his journal and there had been strange

occurrences and sensations that I felt randomly. Some chilled me to the back of my spine. This whole case was going down a rabbit hole, leading everywhere, but nowhere, all at once. We also had a cleanup crew go through and take down the shrine of the missing people's faces. They threw away the stuff in the trees, and scattered the rocks formed into a circle, leaving the area in its original state. While they were doing this cleanup, there were reports of hearing voices mumbling to them, but so quietly they couldn't understand what was being said. However, there was one thing that every single one of them heard clear as day, and it was someone who was whistling in a raspy, uneven tone. It started with one of them supposedly saying something like,

Hey, if you can't whistle right, then shut up. Everyone was thinking one of them was doing it, But during their lunch break when everyone had food in their mouths, they heard it again. That's when they decided to cut their lunch break and clean the rest of the area up, because all of them felt uneasy being there. It was after hearing those accounts that the light bulb clicked in my head. The family we questioned when the man first went missing told me that he had an annoying whistle. But the hairs on my neck stood up when I remembered hearing the faint whistle when we were walking back to our vehicle after searching his trailer.

This guy must have been playing tricks on us for his own amusement, and probably enjoyed seeing us get all turned around while trying to figure out what happened to him. I told Daniel my story, and he was skeptical at first, but soon understood where I was coming from with my argument. We told the chief, and he told us to investigate one last time during the night and watch the missing person's campsite to see if he's not sneaking back in the middle of the night.

The deal was that if we found him, the case would be dismissed. But if we didn't see anything, the case would become cold and all investigation involving it would be terminated. We agreed and drove back to the woods to stay the night patrolling the area. It was a night that would scar me for the rest of my life. While we were patrolling the area before the sun fully hid behind the mountains, we talked to a few of the campers staying on the campground, and they seemed distressed. We asked them what was wrong, and they said they kept hearing some whistling, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

Even when they walked down to the lake, it seemed to follow them, and because of this, they planned to cut their vacations short and get out of here. It probably made them feel more paranoid after hearing about someone go missing here in the past week, especially when they were constantly seeing officers from search and rescue. I responded, saying, If I were in your shoes, then that would be exactly what I would do too. We talked a little longer, but Daniel insisted that we needed to keep a better eye out for the man, just in case he returned.

I understood, and we drove to where we could see the man's camp trailer, but were still well hidden. That's when the waiting begun until midnight. The full moon illuminated the ground, causing our visibility of the man's trailer to still work out without the need for a flashlight. As we were sitting there, we noticed a few pine cones falling from the trees nearby and bouncing off the ground below. You think that's either a squirrel or a chipmunk knocking those down?

I asked while stretching and letting out a yawn. It could be. I've seen chipmunks knock them down quite often. Daniel responded as we gazed at where they were dropping. That's when we heard something snap and saw a large branch fall from the same tree the pine cones were coming from. that has to be a bear cub or something to break a branch that big.

I stated, wondering what was up there. If that's the case, then we have to get it out of the campground so it won't hurt anyone. Daniel said as he opened his side door and grabbed his heavy-duty flashlight, big enough to be considered as a weapon, and shined it at the tree. I couldn't see exactly where he was shining because I was still in the vehicle, but Daniel pulled out his weapon and started screaming, Sir, get out of the tree now. I wondered what was going on, so I got out and saw where Daniel steadily held his flashlight.

How did he get up there? The words fell out of my mouth as we watched the man we were looking for, at the top of the tree, clinging to the base. He didn't move at all, but his eyes were illuminated by the flashlight and reflected bright red. Sir, I won't tell you again. Climb down from the tree, or if you're incapable of doing so, please let us know. Daniel yelled with droplets of spit falling out. The man didn't respond, but just stayed put watching us intensely with those glaring eyes. Suddenly, the man jumps from one tree to another, and that's when we noticed that all he's wearing is some tattered dirty blue jeans. Daniel opened fire trying to get him down, but the man was so swift with his movements that

Daniel wasn't able to land a shot. Let's follow him. Daniel screamed as he ran after the man. I followed closely behind with my weapon drawn, wondering what was wrong with the man. Briefly, we could see him jumping from tree to tree, and we continued after him slowly, going deeper into the woods. Where did he go? I said while breathing in gulps of air. I don't know. You hear that? Daniel asked as he glanced about. Listening closely, I could hear the faint sound of someone whistling. He's got to be close by. Daniel stated firmly while tightening his grip on his weapon. Closely listening to the raspy, uneven whistling, I said, it's getting louder. That must mean he's... Out of nowhere. The man pounced from one of the trees on top of me. He was trying

to bite me, but I held him back the best I could, but his strength seemed inhuman. Daniel quickly shot the side of him, which caused him to dart off into the woods, and he was hunched over, grabbing his wound just running as if nothing happened. You okay? Daniel quickly asked as he helped me to my feet and said, Hurry, we can't lose him. I agreed and we followed his bare footprints in the dirt that led to an open field covered in dry yellow grass. In the middle of the pasture we noticed a dark spot. Shining our lights at it, it was the back of the man.

Slowly but swiftly, we made our way over to him. But when we got there, we saw that he was shaking and I asked sternly, Sir, please restrain yourself. We aren't trying to hurt you. The man's eyes darted at me, and he muttered. Run, that thing left me to rot and is in search for a new host. Get out of here while you still can. We need to get you out of here.

We're not leaving. Now please explain why you tried to attack us. Daniel asked sternly, not knowing everything that I knew about this man's dark past at this point. The man's eyes who were staring me down slowly, started to move and stare at something just past me. Not looking behind me, I grabbed Daniel's arm and quickly yanked him towards where we came from. He restrained and pulled his arm from my grasp, saying, What are you doing? We can't just leave him here.

Not knowing what to do, I looked back at Daniel and saw a dark figure standing about five feet behind him. There's something right behind you. I screamed, trying to pull my weapon that seems stuck in its holster. Daniel then said, turning around. What do you mean there's something? As he looked behind him, the figure stayed still. Daniel drew his weapon and looked back at me, and I could sense fear in his eyes. The man on the ground began muttering nonsense words, which seemed to anger this thing,

which suddenly disappeared. That's when the man on the ground started to kick his feet and scream. Daniel looked at me, and somehow read each other's mind, as we both darted back to the vehicle, leaving the man there. As we ran, we heard the screaming stop. but not waiting for anything, we jumped into the car and drove back into town. We got on the radio and reported back to the station on everything that went down, and they seemed in disbelief. As we got back into the station, there were people I had never seen there before,

dressed in dark suits, that interviewed us on what exactly happened. And once it was over, they made us promise not to tell anyone else about it. After posting this, I guess I just broke that promise, but it is what it is. Later, I found out they closed the campground down, saying that it needed to be refurbished, and soon after there was a mysterious fire that swept the area, burning everything into ashes. In the newspaper, it was blamed on a butt of a cigarette that was tossed into a dry grass field. I knew that that was a lie and that there was an intentional burning. The fire was meant to eliminate that thing, but I don't think it worked,

because a week later, someone went missing in a part of the woods nearby that was untouched by the flames. We never solved this case because technically the man is still missing, but I'm never going back into that area again. It's been 15 years since I was last there, and I will go the rest of my life avoiding it. Some places need to be avoided the same way some things don't need to be understood. I will finish by saying that if you see a campsite closed, and it says, that there's maintenance going on. Don't believe it. For all you know, there could be another beast lurking in the mist. Be safe out there. I'm a 17-year-old guy, currently living in Phoenix, Arizona. This incident took place around six months ago on an overnight trip into the

Superstition Mountains, which are about an hour drive east of Phoenix. I'm not going to specify the exact trail because I've been doing this stuff long enough. to realize what happens when you post stuff on the internet. Whether it's a good trail, abandoned mine, ghosts, or whatever it may be, people come flocking, and usually with a lot of trash and loud music. Anyway, this particular trail I was taking was an eight-mile loop through a canyon,

pretty simple in and out overnight trip. I had planned to go with my friend, but a last-minute cancel on his part left me on my own. So, with a packed bag and my car ready to go, I decided to go on my own. Not leaving the house on time, and some trouble navigating rough forest roads, I didn't arrive at the trailhead until around 5.45, which for those of you who don't backpack, this is a very big no-no. I had about a four-mile hike until I arrived at my planned camping spot, and it was getting

dark fast, so I figured if I moved quick enough. I could get at least two to three miles in before I had to find a spot. This strategy left me hiking a very dark trail on my own, with about 15 miles of dirt road between me and anyone else. Hiking in the dark by itself is scary, especially for where I was and being on my own. Eventually, it got so dark I could only see where my headlamp was pointing, and that's when I figured I needed to stop and get my camp set up.

Only using the headlamp as my light source and trying to move fast, I ended up in a less than ideal spot. There was some burnt pieces of wood and the remains of a fire circle, so it looked like people had been there before, but definitely not recently. My first priority was to get a fire going. I scanned the area around me and was able to find some dry wood, and I got the fire going. I got my tarp set up and cracked open a can of chili mac I had brought for myself and was very much looking forward to eating. I was feeling good. My camp was set up and my food was on the fire. The feeling of uneasiness from the hike in had almost gone away, but it was still there. Side effect of camping alone in remote areas. To fully understand what happened, I have to explain how my camp was set up.

The site I had picked was a small clearing surrounded by large pine trees with the trail about 30 feet to my left. There was a small circle of light from my fire, and everything past it was pitch black. I was sitting on the ground near my fire, eating my dinner when a small rock about the size of a marble was thrown into my camp. I looked at the tiny rock in shock. As I was positive, I was the only person on the trail that night. I immediately turned my light and faced it toward the area where I had seen the rock come from. Due to the density of the pines and brush, I could only see about 10 feet. I spent the next 15 minutes in disbelief as I scanned the tree line that surrounded me,

searching for what or whoever had thrown the rock, not daring to stray too far from my fire. After sitting back down and spending the rest of my time on high alert, I was able to convince myself that I had somehow kicked the rock, or it had fallen from a tree. That night, I awoke to the sound of rustling leaves, barely audible, but still there. I was still in a sleepy days as I listened. The rustling of leaves got harder to hear, and I assumed they were moving away from me. I went to grab my handheld flashlight that I had left next to me when I had fallen asleep,

but I soon came to realize that it was no longer there. I stood up in my sleeping bag and ducked out of the tarp and looked around. I was able to see a light off in the woods. It couldn't have been more than 15 feet away. It was my flashlight, laying on the ground on a pile of leaves. The flashlight that I had left sitting right next to me when I had fallen asleep a few hours ago was now, 15 feet away from me, past the tree line. I quickly slipped my boots, clutched my knife in the other hand.

and keeping my head on a swivel, I weighed my options. Stay here and wait out the night, or attempt the three-mile hike back to the car in the dark. I figured that whatever, or whoever was out there with me, was definitely going to have a better advantage if I was on the trail without a light. I decided to stay at the camp and waited out the night there. Eventually, it came back. I could hear it walking through the woods.

It was far off, but... I could hear it. It sounded like someone was leisurely walking by, like they were on a stroll without a care in the world. Sometimes it would walk far away, and I would lose the sound of its steps, but then it would return, still faint as ever. This went on for about three or four hours, until the steps got closer and closer. Now they were about seven feet from me. At this point the fire had become very small, as I had run out of wood in my pile. The footsteps stopped and everything went totally silent. I sat there still, for two hours, clutching my knife in my hand and praying I wouldn't

hear anything else. I stayed like that until the sun cast enough light that I could see that I was alone in my campsite. I packed my things and speedwalked the three miles down the trail I had taken. I arrived at the empty dirt road where my car was parked. I nearly sprinted to my Subaru as I was on my own. unlocked it, jumped in and drove, not stopping until I had put at least 20 miles between me and that place. I ended up in a gas station in Apache Junction to buy some Red Bull, but mostly just to

see and or talk to another person. As I exited the store, I was able to read something that was written in the dust on the back window of my car. It said, Sleep well. This story happened during my teenage years at 15 or 16 years old. I lived in a small town of 2,000 people, mainly surrounded by boreal forest in a region of Quebec, Canada. This place was great, as we often saw deer, and it was usually a quiet and safe place. To give a bit of context, my house was located at the end of a dead-end street, and the only light source at night was my houses. There was a single street light at the end of the road, but it only lit up part of the street and the forest behind it. We were a dog family. I only had small dogs when I lived there. Every day we needed to let them out

to pee, as all dogs do, but at night they were almost impossible to see because of the darkness. Our terrain was kind of big, and the light sources were weak. I was a gamer at the time, and I was often up late, so I was the one who needed to take the dog out to pee. I was the one who needed to take the dog out to at 2 a.m. because it stayed with me while I was playing. One night I opened the door and waited for my dog to do his thing. While trying to look at it, I was only able to see the reflection of the light in its eyes when it looked at me. I started to look around because there was sometimes deer sleeping in the woods under the street light or wild turkeys roaming around when a little dark spot caught my attention. It looked like a human head coming out of the bushes, but I wasn't

able to see it because it was a bit in the dark. I don't want my dog to run after whatever it was. It had a tendency to run after wild animals, so I called to it. It didn't listen to me, but the thing in the bushes started to crawl towards the street slowly. It looked like a human, with thin limbs and a normal body and a slightly long neck. I started to freak out a bit and shook the treats cup so my dog would hurry. It came inside, and I shut the door as fast as I could. I turned off the lights in my house so I could have a view of what was outside. The strange animal crawled fast, almost running like a dog with every limb broken as an

improvised crawling movement. The animal passed under the light where I saw it had no fur like a shaved animal. It was disgusting. I was afraid and standing in the dark. The animal ran towards the light and continued on the street. where I wasn't able to see it because the houses in my neighborhood were surrounded by trees. I locked the door and went to sleep with my dog. I talked to nobody about it.

A couple months later, I went to bed kind of early, 11 p.m., and went to watch some videos on my phone. They were gaming videos, and I had earphones on. A sound on the video was recurring, and I thought it was annoying, like a distant, weird scream. After a couple minutes, the video finished and I went to see another, but during the loading, the sound occurred. I took my earphones off and waited for the sound.

I heard it and immediately had tears in my eyes. It was coming from my window. My room was at the second floor, so I looked down in the forest to see if there was some movement. The only light near the forest entrance was the moonlight and an underwater light in our pool that that emitted a small halo around it. I wasn't able to see anything, but the sound occurred again. It was like a mix between a distorted scream

and a pig having its throat slit or a strong pain whining from a dog. I looked down and saw an animal that passed so fast that it was hard to really see, but I barely saw a human-sized animal with limbs crawling like a spider. It wasn't running after anything, but the sound occurred another time.

It was the most horrible thing I ever heard. I closed my window to choke a bit by the sound of it. I heard it again three other times, and it stopped after that. I talked to my dad about the sound, and he told me it was probably a deer being attacked by a wild animal. I was so scared of it, I barely walked in the woods at night the three following years, before moving in a city to go out of university. Even to this day, I never heard of an animal like that. And it made me really doubt my mental health at the time,

because I had PTSD from a dog attack mid-middle school, and I sometimes had light hallucinations when I gamed for too long, like a black shadow that disappears immediately, or things like that. There were barely any reports of wolves, coyotes, or bears in my area. And believe me, I made a lot of discoveries exploring the forest in this town. It was almost 15 years ago now that I first met one of the most interesting people I know. True to that nature, I also met him in one of the most interesting and unexpected ways. I was out hiking on a trail in Washington State.

It was a remote area, but one which I was fairly familiar with. On that particular day, I decided to venture far beyond the hiking trail I normally took, just for the sake of exploration. After some time, I entered a sunlit gully which led up to a local mountain, rife with blooming conifers and serene, glistening pines. I was also alone that day, and felt my soul rejuvenate a bit with every breath of fresh mountain air. After probably 20 minutes, I was well off the beaten trail, and I found something worrying. I was about to take another step when I paused mid-stride, seeing a circular, jagged, metal ring laying just behind a small shrub.

It was a good thing I didn't put my foot down, as the ring proved to be an improvised bear trap. What are you doing out here? A gruff male voice suddenly shouted from somewhere unseen. I looked around, trying to find the person who had spoken, when he chose to step forward and reveal himself. An older man sporting a long gray beard, then emerged. from the brush, he had amber skin, long grayish black dreadlocks, and a scar on his right cheek. He wore a raggedy brown coat that looked hand-woven, and old jeans patched in multiple spots by mismatched fabric. His eyes burned like campfires, and his hands clutched a bolt-action

rifle while his lip cradled a sizable wad of chew. I asked you a question, son. What are you doing here? After fumbling on my words for a moment, I was finally able to piece together a response. I was just hiking. Sorry. I didn't know anyone lived out here. The man seemed to silently inspect me for a moment. I felt my pulse sore in my chest, as I wondered what he was intending on doing. We were, after all, completely alone out there. You see that bear trap, son? He pointed to the same trap that I had narrowly avoided stepping on a minute.

it earlier. I nodded. He tilted to the side and spewed a mouthful of tobacco spit into the dirt. Guess that means I gotta hide him better. He stared at me completely emotionless and I felt my heart plunged into the depths of my stomach. I thought he was some maniac killbilly cannibal, hellbent on having me for lunch. But then he burst into a fit of raspy laughter. I was left there confused and partially horrified as the man continued to cackle for several seconds. Oh, I'm just kidding, son. He wiped a tear from his eye and recomposed himself as I continued silently debating whether or not I should run. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and smiled at me. Apologies, buddy. My wife always says my sense of humor was a bit dark. I eyed the man over,

and he suddenly seemed less sinister than he had a moment to go. There was this sense of jubilance in his gaze, like he was genuinely happy to see me. It's hard to explain, but it kept me from running. I forced a laugh myself. Good thing for the both of us, I guess. This hiking has given me a major case of swamp sweat. I can't imagine I'd taste too good.

The man burst into laughter once more, and this time I joined in. In that moment, I knew I had found a new friend. The man formally introduced himself not long after as Mark Hastings. After conversing for a while, he told me that he had lived in that particular area for a couple of years at least, though admitted he didn't know exactly how long he'd been there. He said he left city life behind in 96, and seemed quite surprised when I told him the current year was 2020.

Mark's accent was something which struck me as quite interesting. As it was one I couldn't quite pin down. He had a significant southern drawl, and yet at times also sounded as though he may have had a bit of British influence as well. He pronounced words like again as again, and had a strange vocal inflection. The best way I can really describe it as, the way someone speaks in an old black and white movies, and yet somehow country. We got to talking and he told me more about himself.

He said he used to do construction back in the day, but when his wife got sick with cancer, it really changed things for him. He said she battled for almost three years, but eventually lost the fight. Afterwards, he was left alone with a mountain of medical bills to account for. Rather than pay them off and attempt to move forward,

Mark chose a different path. It's funny, you know. You work your tail off for years. Begin building the life you want with the woman of your dreams. And then it all just falls apart for no good reason. Then when you, at your lowest, good old Uncle Sam comes in and slaps you with a bill, you ain't ever going to pay back. So I say to hell with them. To hell with their taxes and debt.

Out here, I'm truly free. There ain't nothing left for me in the real world anyways. There was a distinct glimmer of pain behind his gray eyes as he said it, and I felt myself feeling sorry for him. He wasn't all what I expected when we first met, just a normal guy whose life fell apart through no fault of his own. In a way, I found it sort of admirable. The system beat him down,

and rather than just accept it and be a good little wage slave, he left it all behind with a big middle finger. I visited Mark pretty regularly after that, and tried to make the trek to see him at least once a month. He always seemed to have a smile on his face when I came to visit. Soon enough, he even invited me back to his cabin for a fresh meal and some drinks. I was a bit hesitant at first, but decided to accept. Part of me expected him to prepare a meal of squirrels and tree bark when he first offered, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Mark made us a fresh rabbit stew with some homegrown potatoes and bread that he had made from scratch. On top of that, he even had his own home-brewed ale to wash it all down. It was surprisingly delicious, and really made me admire Mark more for his resourcefulness. He wasn't just some wannabe camper. He was truly a man of the land. His cabin was reminiscent of one that would have been used by the early 18th century trappers. A hand-crafted stone chimney was his only source of heat, while animal peltz covered the walls and stripes of meat were lying on his jerky rack. There were two couches in the main room, constructed of whittled wood and bearing hand-woven pillows stuffed with feathers.

He had no electronics of any kind, claiming he didn't need those technological doohickeys anyways. Mark had two hounds, Rowley and Daisy, that lived there with him and he was. were his only real companions. I eventually asked if he ever missed civilization or got lonely out there, but he immediately refuted the question. For a while, yeah, but not anymore. It's easy to forget about society

when society already forgot about you. I really grew to admire Mark and even cherish our friendship. Over our many meetings, he would tell me stories about his life, told me all about his business, and wife before she passed. The way he spoke about her in particular truly broke my heart. He was a man who met his soulmate

and built a life he loved with her, only to have it all ripped away by the cruel hands of fate. More than anything, though, Mark was always ready to tell me how much he'd hated the government. I think that's what made me like him the most. One night, he and I were drinking

some of his home-brewed, honey ale, and chilling around his campfire, He had just got done telling a story about a five-point buck that he had narrowly missed a few weeks earlier. He finished with admitting that he heard some weird, loud noise from the woods that scared it off before he could fire. That detail got me thinking, and since I've always been a fan of the paranormal and whatnot, I figured I'd go ahead and ask him, You ever see anything really creepy out here? Mark's eyes open wide, and he immediately lowered his mind.

mug from his lips. He wiped the suds from his bushy beard and stared down at the campfire for a couple seconds. I could tell he knew exactly what I meant. He then chuckled and rocked back in his chair with a smug grin. Zach, I tell you, you don't know creepy until you've spent some time out here. He then began to tell me a story of when he at first began living out there. He said it took him close to a year to finally assemble his cabin, at least partially. During that time, he and his dogs were living in a simple tent. Mark said that a couple weeks after living there, he started noticing something odd. Every once in a while, he'd awake to find deceased animals just outside the perimeter of his camp.

Usually, it was just small creatures like rabbits, birds, and squirrels. But it didn't stay that way. Over time, Mark began finding more and more things left at his camp. He thought it was the work of a Puma at first, despite the fact that the corpses seemed to retain most of the meat. He quickly rethought that through when he found an actual Puma corpse one morning. He said most of the animals had marks along their sides and necks, and many had been turned inside out.

He began thinking it was the work of some deranged person. but even that didn't last long. One night, as he was preparing to turn in for the evening, he heard a rustling sound coming from within the forest. He ducked down underneath some timber in hopes of catching a glimpse of the culprit. Both of his dogs were already chained up for the night, so he knew it couldn't have been one of them.

A figure emerged deeper into the woods. Mark said he didn't see the entire thing, but he could tell that this thing was bipedal and scrawny. I asked if it could have been a bear with mange, but Mark claimed it was too skinny for that. He said he's seen sick bears before, and they looked and moved nothing like that thing. Mark initially planned on trying to shoot it, but after seeing that, he admitted that he didn't think that would have been a good idea. The creature dropped something on the perimeter, which Mark discovered the following morning was a raccoon. The thing's head.

then tilted and appeared to stare directly towards Mark. They just stared there in silence for several seconds. Until the dogs began snarling vorously from inside the tent, they must have caught its scent, and the thing suddenly crouched on all fours and dashed back off into the woods as the dogs went ballistic. Mark didn't know what he had seen that night, and apparently never saw it again.

To me, it sounded like a Wendigo or a skis. Skinwalker based on his description. I told him that, but he had no idea what those things were. He seemed to think that the thing was actually leaving him gifts, but I wasn't so sure about that. I asked him about the typical creatures seen in creepypastas and television lore. I mentioned the Wendigo, Skinwalkers, Slender Man, the Rake, Sirenhead, and some of the well-known others, but Mark didn't seem to know anything about any of them. He did, however, know about something he called the whistler. Apparently, ever since he had been out there, he had heard an odd whistling sound on occasion. It would start off as a little more than a dull, barely audible

noise in the distance. He said at times it would come closer, and at others it seemed like it was further away. Mark thought it was a bird for the longest time, but one night he found the truth. He was chopping wood when suddenly the whistling noise emerged. This time it was different, and it was closer than ever before. Suddenly, there was a rustling noise from behind him. Mark spun back, but only saw a few branches bristling back and forth. He then heard the whistle again louder than ever before. He looked up, and there it was. About 20 feet up in a large oak tree was some kind of figure. Mark described it as kind of human, with a head that looked like some messed-up eel. He said he saw the thing stared down at him with beady black eyes. He just froze, and before he

could do anything, the thing suddenly leapt from the tree. It crashed into another further away, and continued whistling and crashing as it blended into the depths of the woods. I didn't know what to say to that. I have heard legends about the whistlers out in the woods, but I've never heard about anyone actually having seen one of them. The way he described it sounded quite creative, and I wondered whether he was capable of an imagination so elaborate, or if he had actually seen what he claimed.

I asked him whether he thought this whistler was the same creature, that was leaving him items, but he just shook his head. Without being prompted, he told me another tale about hearing voices in the woods sometimes, sometimes that of a young girl, and sometimes it didn't sound human at all. I wondered whether my new friend was perhaps schizophrenic, or suffered some mental illness that caused him to hear these things. I obviously didn't tell him that, but his claims had to be met with some amount of skepticism, What do you think it was? Mark leaned back, and his head swiveled on his shoulders.

No clue, son, and part of me hopes I never find out. He went on to explain that he continued to hear voices on occasion, but never saw who or what was making them. He seemed to think all of the voices were coming from the same entity, though. Without being prompted, he took the conversation an entirely new accusatory direction. It's the dang government, Sack, messing with things they got no business messing with. He then delved into a conspiratorial rant about how the government, and specifically the guys in black trucks that were up to some really shady antics. He said they knew about gates in the forest and had been actively trying to open them. He didn't elaborate on exactly what he meant by that.

You see them out here? You know, government? CIA? Mark looked confused. CIA, he asked. It was my turn to look confused then. Yeah, Central Intelligence Agency. You know, men in black?

Mark still appeared slightly puzzled. I didn't understand how a guy like him who hated the government to such an extreme degree had apparently never heard of the mother of all conspiracy agencies like the CIA. He then seemed to have an epiphany and his eyes lit up in recognition. Oh yeah, I forgot about them. He then laughed and shook his head as he downed another swig of ale. My memory ain't what it used to be, I'm afraid. Dang, how could I forget them?

Well, in my defense, they don't carry no badges out here, and their vehicles don't exactly advertise who they work for. He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. But you've seen them out here. Mark met my eyes and nodded, without a doubt. Mark told me that one time he had been tracking an elk through the woods in late autumn. He'd followed the trail for a few miles, when suddenly he heard a noise coming from a grove up ahead.

It sounded nothing like a bear, though. and more like several people arguing. Mark crept slowly forward, taking care not to disturb the foliage and remain out of sight. After a couple seconds, he saw the outlines of several people emerge in the grove. One man was on his knees in the center,

while four men in black suits surrounded him. The man on his knees had wounds and bruises, and his clothing was torn and tattered. He was asking the others for mercy, but they didn't appear to be the forgiving type. Two of the men were speaking quietly to one another, while the other two stood over to watch their apparent captive. The man on his knees was dressed in white,

with Mark describing his clothes as looking like a surgeon's uniform, or maybe the attire of someone from an insane asylum. He listened but couldn't make out what the two other men were talking about, but they were clearly arguing. The man on his knees, appeared to be weeping softly. Mark said he didn't know what to do, and before he could do anything, one of the two men who had previously been arguing stepped away. Without a word, the man stepped behind the captive, lifted the weapon, and pulled the trigger. Mark described seeing a splash

of red, but said the weapon made a lot less noise than he thought it would have. The man in white fell down onto the dirt. Holy crap, I said. Mouthfalling agape, as Mark concluded his story, I eyed him closely, but didn't see any aura of boasting in his eyes. They didn't twinkle like that of a man who tried telling a fabricated story to simply amaze or impress an audience. He didn't look at me at all, as a matter of fact. He just clasped his hands at front of his mouth and stared at the campfire with a somber gaze.

It was clear to me that he was either an accomplice, actor or what he had witnessed truly haunted him. Poor boy, couldn't have been much older than you. I wish I would have done something, but I just ran. He shook his head and his eyes seemed to glaze over. I just stay quiet as there's nothing I could think to say. After a couple moments of lingering silence, Mark finally spoke again. Zach, I gotta tell you a secret.

He looked me in the eye. I don't particularly care for the government. I chuckled, and Mark let out a small laugh. I think you've mentioned that once or twice, I replied with a laugh. Yeah, I suppose I have. But it's not just because the IRS is after me. It's because of things like what I saw that day. It's because government corrupts by its very nature.

It takes what it wants and destroys those who have. oppose it. Ain't no justice, no consideration, and nothing you can do about it. Now I don't know the details of what they were discussing on that night, but I guarantee you that boy didn't deserve what he got. I nodded, but wasn't entirely convinced that he witnessed what he thought he had. You sure it was government that did that? Could have been drug dealers or mafia. Mark hunched his shoulders and gave a side chuckle, what's the difference? I chuckled but didn't have a response. Well, I see why you think that, but that's because you ain't spent as much time out here as I have. But what you don't know, and what no one is supposed to know, is about the tunnels. I peeked an eyebrow at that comment.

Tunnels? Mark grinned and nodded back. There are a series of tunnels that run deep below the earth, Gotta be a couple dozen of them within a few miles of us now. Government knows about him. Maybe even built him. But, well, I doubt that. I think they're just interested by what's inside. And that is, I asked, now on the edge of my seat. Mark scoffed and shook his head.

I have no idea, but it's got to be something bad. I was a bit disappointed with that answer, but Mark immediately drew my curiosity. back. You want to see one of them? I nodded without really even thinking. Mark grinned. I figured you might. It's a bit late in the day to go now. So what do you say we head out of here first thing in the morning? I agreed without hesitance and I promised to return the next morning to meet up with Mark. I walked back down the trail that day with my imagination running wild. As I mentioned, I liked Mark very much and enjoyed our conversations. To me, he was somewhat like a

compassionate grandfather with a plethora of exuberant stories that may or may not have been slightly exaggerated. I thought about all he had told me, about the found animals and the whistling thing, the voices in the tunnels. I wanted to believe him, but urban legends abound in our day and age. I was still well aware that perhaps he had just concocted these stories after his decades of isolation. I needed to see some proof for myself. Duke glistened on the leaves illuminated by the crimson's sun rising over the hills as I set off the next morning. It was a bit chilly as I walked, but thoughts of the unknown kept me warm as I went on. Before long, I arrived at Mark and I's usual meeting spot, and,

found him already waiting there for me. He greeted me, and without hesitation, we began the trek out to his spot. We made small talk on the way, mostly about normal topics, like family and work. After maybe 15 minutes of walking, we rounded a small bend,

tucked behind a small grove of trees. Mark stepped out in front of a tree to face me. He then grinned and outstretched his right hand. I followed his gesture and felt my jaw strike the floor. There was an opening in the side of the hill that was lined with smooth stone and bricks. It was quite enormous, with the perimeter having been at least 15 feet wide. The opening appeared collapsed and the entrance was filled with rubble and dirt, looking as though someone had intentionally, yet clumsily sealed it.

Is that the tunnel? I asked. Mark nodded One of many But it wasn't sealed up like this last time I was here How long ago is that? Mark shrugged Don't know Maybe a year or two

I looked back at the collapsed tunnel It was clear that someone had gone through a great deal of effort to construct it But the construction didn't look like a mining operation I'm no expert in mining or anything but I can't imagine they would spend the time laying brick and creating such a wide entrance. Maybe I'm wrong about that, but the more curious fact was why it had been sealed up. I thought maybe it was just vandals, but that explanation somehow didn't satisfy. What's inside? I asked.

Mark paused for a moment and stared toward the wreckage. He then shook his head and spat into the dirt. Bad things I hoped he'd elaborate on that But he didn't I mean it'd have to be for someone to seal it up like that right? That's impressive Would have taken a great deal of effort

He was right about that But I still felt that there was information that he was withholding from me You think this is the government's work? Mark nodded Not a single doubt in my mind about it. Mark's head then suddenly flick to the side and he stared into the trees as if something had alerted him. I watched the color drain from his cheeks as his mouth pursed open. We shouldn't go. I don't like lingering here for too long. I didn't argue as clearly something had spooked him.

He and I trekked back to his cabin, checking his snares on the way back. Mark found a pair of rabbits in his traps, and after swiftly slung them over his shoulder. We got back to his cabin, and Mark set to work on harvesting the meat from the rabbits for his stew. I sat around, petting Daisy and Rally, as they slobbered all over my knee and panted endlessly. I don't think I ever told you the scariest part about living out here, did I? Mark asked. I looked up from the two dogs and stared at him, heart now beating with excitement. Mark sauntered over, carrying the meat of the rabbits along with the clump of chopped vegetables. He dumped the plate into the simmering cauldron on the fire, then took a seat across the fire.

I stayed silent as he stared down at the flickering flames deep in thought. There are things out there that people don't know about. Creatures, places and things that would seem to defy all explanation. The advancement of society and technology. has led people to believe they're safe, and for the most part, and they're right. So as long as they stay out of the woods, those things can't get them, but there is something that can. Mark paused and looked me straight in the eye. I call it the silence. He paused, as if to allow the words to immaculate the dread he felt they deserved. I had an

inkling of an idea where the conversation was headed, but just waited for him to explain. There's been rumors about it for a very long time, and it's something that has just been affecting humanity for centuries, if not millennia. People have only just begun to realize it, but if they knew the true extent of what's going on, well, no one would ever go into the woods ever again. He paused and leaned in to stir the pot a bit before sitting back. People disappear, Zach. No reason for it, no explanation, no bodies are ever found. The cases seem to defy all explanation. And it happens again and again. Mark then suddenly grunted and began rubbing his eye. Ugh, dang smoke. Sorry, where was I? The dissoning. The dissonable. The dissonable. The dissoning,

Disappearances, I replied. Mark seemed suddenly hesitant, as if he didn't know whether or not he should continue. Yeah, the disappearances. I don't particularly like talking about this, if I'm being honest. It's not really my business, but you're a good kid, Zach, and I know you come out here a lot, and I'd be devastated if anything were to happen to you. Dread crept around me like dozens of little spiders scurrying on my, my skin. I couldn't help but raise my guard and wonder where exactly this conversation was

headed. Mark went on to tell me about this silence he mentioned. He said that if I was ever walking through the woods and everything went completely silent, I was to drop to my knees and put my face to the dirt immediately. He said to stay that way until the sounds returned to normal. And what if sound doesn't come back? I asked. Spine tingling with anxiety, Mark looked me straight in the eye, and his words offered nothing of comfort. Then God help you. He said no more about the subject, and I didn't push him on it. It was clear he wasn't really comfortable discussing it beyond his initial warning.

If he had any theories about what was responsible, he didn't voice them. The whole conversation had given me a strong missing 411 vibes. and I wondered whether he was referring to the same phenomenon. Both of us just sort of lingered in silence for a while as the stew finished cooking. After a few minutes, Mark leaned in and scooped two servings into bowls, handing one of them to me. The stew was delicious, as usual, and I happily scarfed it down, as Mark provided his hounds with their dinner as well. Although didn't so much as nibble on his own serving. What do you know about mimics?

I don't know why exactly I asked, but the thought had suddenly arisen in my mind. Mark seemed to perk up, but yet stared back with a look of confusion that seemed to contradict his reaction. I'm sorry, what? Mimics, I clarified. Some call them impostors or liars, things that look and try to act human, but aren't. Mark stared back at me, and a small grin slithered onto his face. Now what would make you ask a question like that? Mark's grin evaporated as he stared back with something akin to contempt.

Truth is, some of the things I'd seen from him made me question who he claimed he was. There was just a subtle wrongness to him. In a way, I've never felt the words to accurately describe. Just curious, I replied. staring back. Mark chuckled, but without any humor in his tone. Your kind always is. Ever since your brothers took up arms against one another in the war of gray and blue, your curiosity has been quite insatiable. You think this land belongs to you. Like this country is your own personal proving grounds to pillage and destroy as you please. His form seemed to shift as he spoke,

his eyes shrinking in their sockets and his skin seemed to twitch. His teeth bared like fangs of a cougar and his long black hair flowing like a clump of wild eels. He leaned forward in a look that no longer seemed entirely human. Zach, there are things out here that your world of science and logic will never understand. And these things are better left alone. He and I just stared at one another, and I felt my heart beating. I thought about his words, the war of gray and blue. Could he have been referring to the American Civil War?

Why reference that event specifically? What year did you say you moved out here? I asked. Mark grinned, now appearing more menacing than ever before. 96. 1896. I don't understand. I replied, shaking my head.

Your kind never does. His voice has suddenly changed, becoming much more high-pitched like that of a young girl. His head moved to the side, and his grin grew almost literally ear to ear as his mouth stretched impossibly wide. Your kind has conquered this world. Both beast and nature bow to your might. You live in comfort, convinced that they're not. there is nothing that can get you anymore. His voice began changing again.

But you are wrong. Mark then stood and his form extended, making him tower over me and the campsite. Even Daisy and Raleigh started altering their form, like they were also simply hiding their true form. I got up and backed away, no longer seeing Mark as the friendly hermit I had thought him to be.

I thought that movement would be my end, and that the beast that hid itself in the form of Mark was prepared to devour me whole. Before he did, I had one final question I had to ask. What are you? Mark chuckled, his form continuing to grow grossly inhuman. He then shook his head. Wrong question. His words bellowed forth, spoken in a chorus of a thousand voices all in unison.

I took another step, back, wondering what he could have meant by that. Then it struck me, What do you want? The thing I had once known as Mark stared down at me with an entirely human gaze. To watch and protect. We stared at one another,

and I attempted to understand what was happening. After all, he had told me, and his time devoted to actually speaking with me, part of me almost wanted to believe his words were meant to reassure me. like he was conveying that it was me, or more generally humanity as a whole he wished to protect. After ruminating on it for a while, though, I don't think that's the case anymore. Why are you telling me all this?

The thing I had once known as Mark grinned, as if that was the question he was waiting to hear. So you can tell the world. And so, I have. I left Mark and that trail behind, and I have not been back since. That's why I'm here now, to tell the world, as that thing I once knew as Mark instructed me to. I don't even know why, or what exactly I'm supposed to be telling.

Maybe that Mark is not human, and that there are things in the woods that will never be fully understood, or maybe that he is watching, and something has given him a great deal of power for some reason. I wish I had more answers, but I had to share this, regardless of whether anyone will believe it. And needless to say, I don't think I'll be visiting Mark again anytime soon. Sometimes when I've had a really rough day and I'm having troubles relaxing,

I go for a drive to clear my mind. There's something about driving down the back gravel roads that soothes me. I admit it can be a little creepy at times. It can be spooky driving in the middle of the middle of the world. nowhere, only able to see as far as your headlights allow, the trees hiding whatever could be lurking just beyond your line of vision. What's even scarier is hearing something in the car with you when you know you're alone. Last night, I was looking for a way to calm down after working a stressful 12-hour shift.

I got home around 7.30 p.m., made and ate some dinner, then watched TV in bed, trying to get some sleep to do it all over again the next day. I tried to sleep for over four hours, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Sometime past midnight, frustrated, I got out of bed and grabbed my car keys. I stormed out the front door and hopped in my beat-up Jeep, speeding out of the driveway. I was angrily muttering to myself about how I can't just roll over and sleep like a normal person. After 10 minutes of driving, I found myself down one of my go-to back roads. It's more of a two-track, surrounded by dense pine trees. I like this road because it's spooky.

The trees are dense, you can't see 10 feet into the woods, letting my imagination run wild. I had to slow down to around 25 miles an hour to safely navigate without hitting anything. I turned the radio all the way down, turning my full. attention to the thin road in front of me. Just as I started to get that eerie feeling, my car radio blared as loud as it could. A talk radio station had somehow popped on, even though I was listening to 80's rock before. I jumped, scrambling to turn the volume down. Before my hand found the volume knob, the radio cut out completely. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion, looking at the radio as if it had a mind of its own. All of the

A wave of dread hit me like a ton of bricks. The hair on my arms and neck stood on end, my heart beginning to race uncontrollably. It got so quiet I could hear my heartbeat, thumping in my ears. After a few seconds of that eerie silence, I started hearing something behind me, in the back seat. It sounded like someone was pushing down into the back seat, like suddenly a lot of weight pushed it down. A loud pop made me jump a little. Grabbing the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles hurt. I started to feel a presence, like someone or something was in the car with me. I could feel it get closer, like it was leaning in to whisper something in my ear.

I noticed movement in my rearview mirror as well. Something was definitely in my back seat. A deep breath exhaled, blowing its breath right in my ear. I was completely paralyzed in fear, not knowing how to react. I was still driving down the road, but maybe at five miles an hour. I was too afraid to turn around and see what was behind me. I had this gut feeling that if I turned around, something bad would happen. Hello, a muffled voice called in my ear.

Its voice sent shivers down my spine. It sounded like an old woman, if she were trying to speak while covering her mouth. It started to breathe deep, raspy breaths in my ear. as if it was out of breath and struggling to breathe. Its breath smelled like rotting eggs, making me almost gag. Every now and then, I could see movement in my rearview mirror

as it shifted around. Look at me, please. The muffled voice said after a few seconds of breathing down my neck, I ignored it, kept my eyes straight forward. Finally, I could see the driveway about 20 feet ahead to my left. Once I got to it,

I pulled in and turned the, car around as calmly as I could. Look at me. It growled. My muscles tensed as it spoke. It was even scarier sounding when angry. I managed not to jerk the steering wheel and successfully turned around. I noticed I was driving a little too quickly for the road I was on, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to get back to the main road where there were other people if I was lucky enough to make it that far. I felt pressure on my shoulder. as it must have grabbed me. Its fingers felt incredibly bony and shaky.

I stayed driving straight and tried not to let it affect me. There was now jerky movements that I could see in the reflection of the mirror, like it was having a seizure or something. The fingers dug into my shoulder, making me wince and pain. Look at me. It growled in my ear again, taking deep breaths in between each word. I noticed my foot consistently pressed. the gas pedal harder, I glanced at the speedometer and saw now I was going 50 miles an hour,

speeding as I went around turns. I have never wanted out of the backwoods so badly in my life. Somehow I was able to keep the car in control, avoiding the trees that were just feet from my front end. At one point, my tail end clipped a tree as I slid. I kept driving as fast as I could. Its fingers were digging so hard in my shoulder that it was getting harder to make the turns. Up ahead, I saw the stop sign, and I almost cried out in joy. The same cracking noise from earlier rang through the car. I could hear the pressure of my back seat leave, as well as the heavy feeling of dread that hung in the air. I didn't even notice I was holding my breath until then, taking a huge breath as I blew through the stop sign.

I noticed a tear was rolling down my cheek as well. I could tell by the atmosphere in the air that whatever was in my back seat was now gone. I sped the whole way home, not stopping at any stop signs on the way. I'd never felt so much relief in my life, as I did in that moment I pulled in my driveway. I slammed the shifter in park and bolted inside, panting heavily. I checked the doors and windows twice

before retreating to my room, making sure the whole house was locked up. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep after that. I sat wondering what that was all night. The next day was a long, horrible, 12-hour shift. I was more than thrilled when 7.30 came and I could clock out. I knew I'd struggle sleeping again, but one thing is for sure, I won't be taking a nighttime drive to help me relax.

I don't know what that was, but I pray I know. I never encounter it again. I used to live in the outbacks in Cecilia, Kentucky. There's a lot of woods around and many wild animals, which gives me a pretty good feeling every day. Well, almost every day. Before I get into it, let me give you some pointers of my property, so you can better understand this situation.

Where I live is rather secluded. The closest town is a good 30-minute drive away, making my old bus rides over an hour long in the mornings, and our neighboring houses are rather spaced out. The property is pretty nice, considering we built the house ourselves. We have a small garden, a chicken coop area, rabbit hutches, and a pig pen. My family's two dogs protected these animals, while mine stayed with the pigs since one of them was pregnant at the time.

We only have about six acres of backwoods land, before we reach a no-hunting, private property sign with barbed wire fencing. Though it does no good, as I later found out, a tree had fallen and broken part of it. Now, although we hear coyotes all the time, we never actually see signs of them. Just raccoons, rabbits, squirrels, and possum prints, and a lot of deer tracks. Going out there during late fall, all winter, and beginning of spring, was something I'd genuinely enjoyed doing, though my family had restrictions, as I wasn't allowed out there at night time. Now, while most would find it disturbing maybe, whenever an animal of ours died, I was required to take it out

back and dump it near the fence to make sure no predators got too close to our property. The walk through the woods was usually fun, but I sometimes feel like I was being watched. Of course, karma, my male German Shepherd mix was always with me whenever I did the task. I never had him on a leash, something I deeply regret after that night. I brought him because I trust his senses more than my own. Whenever I get a sense I'm being watched, karma would just stop walking. When I see the fur on his back rise, I'll toss the animal as far as possible and head back home. Can never be too careful, right? Now that I have explained some things, I'll get on to the point. of the story. One of our prize roosters had died suddenly, and we hadn't noticed it in the

chicken coop floor until it was time to put the chickens up for the night. When my older brother opened the back, we saw it. We assumed this explained why Cookie, one of my family's pyrenees dogs, was acting odd. Even though it was around 7 p.m., and I didn't want to go into the woods since it was still early fall, which meant big spiderwebs still. My mother demanded that I go take it out to where it's supposed to go. I got on my boots and sweater to prevent mosquito bites and headed out to get my dog. His pen with the pigs was only a few feet away from my back steps, so it was really easy to get him if there was an emergency,

like our neighbor's dogs chasing our cats. Once I opened the pen, he shot out, excited to run around as I held the Walmart bag with the dead rooster inside. Making my way to the woods, he knew where we were going, and followed quickly at my side before getting in front of me. He did that often, going off and stopping to wait for me. As a 17-year-old, with no friends, besides internet ones, I found this to be rather sweet of him, and would smile at the fact that he'd wait, as if he didn't want me to be left alone. I'm on my way, I chuckled, as I saw him standing at the bottom of the small hill.

just staring at me in anticipation. Once down, I kept walking, keeping an eye on him. Once I got closer to the drop-off area, I noticed that he was straying farther and farther away, and wasn't stopping. So I let out a high-pitched whistle sound. Usually he comes when I whistle, but this time he didn't.

He raised his head up, ears perked up, and his attention was elsewhere. The fur on his back had raised slightly. before I had the chance to yell no, he bolted. He was never really a barker, unless a stranger was in our yard, or our neighbor's dogs ran over. So it surprised me when he barked before suddenly taking off into the woods. It was then I noticed the tree had fallen, when he jumped onto the tree and over the fence onto private property, chasing whatever he had seen.

Karma! No! I yelled as I dropped the bag and chased after him. only stopping when I reached the fence, but he was nowhere to be seen, and his barking stopped. This scared me as it was getting dark out, and the day animals were falling silent, being replaced by crickets and frogs. I knew I wasn't allowed on the private property, so I stood at the fence and repeatedly called for him. Here, boy, I called out, feeling frustrated.

Come here, now, come back. I yelled and hopes he would return. as tears began forming in my eyes, only for him not to return. I'm naturally a rational thinker, and assumed he had gotten too far away to hear me. So I bolted back towards home, feeling out of breath by the time I got to the small, but steep hill. Mother, I called as I rushed inside. He took off, and I don't know where he is. He jumped the fence back there.

I told you to keep a leash on him when you're out there. She yelled as she got ready to help me find him. only to see the sun was basically down. It sets in our backyard, meaning it would be dark in the woods, since the trees would be blocking the sun. I'm sure he'll come back, she assured me,

while looking out the back door. Since it was too dark out back, I decided to walk down the street and call for him. My neighbor had noticed and asked if I was looking for someone. So I told him my dog had ran off into the woods. He nodded and seemed to glance around before disappearing in his backyard. I wasn't really sure if he was going to keep an eye out or not.

It had been about two hours since he ran off, and he still wasn't back. I mentally cursed myself for not having him on a leash as I went outside to feed the livestock dogs. When scooping their food, I thought I heard a high-pitched whistle. My mind was too focused on the fact that karma was still missing to really think about it as I walked around to the backyard.

When I got to Cookie, I heard the faint sound of what sounded like someone in our backyard saying, Here, boy, very quietly, like he was far away or something. I glanced over, but saw nothing besides what the moon showed. Our back porch light wasn't working currently, so it wasn't much I could see. We had just got new wood siding up in the backyard, so we had to remove the light. Deciding to ignore it, I walked over to Sar. and gave her her food when I heard it again. Only it was louder this time. I looked over to the woods again, feeling uneasy before heading inside. I had two thoughts running through my

mind, aside from karma, of course. One, there was someone in our woods, potentially a neighbor, and two, he seemed to have lost a dog like I did. Although a stranger, I still felt the urge to help, as I just lost my dog in those woods too. Mom, I said as I went inside. There's someone in the woods, I told her, ushering her to listen. She stopped doing the dishes and went out to listen as well, hearing it too. The man never called the dog's name, something I didn't notice at the time, and just proceeded to say, Here, boy, come back, and come here, now.

My mom gave me a wide-eyed look, as she looked just as scared as I did when I first heard it. I think we should go help. I said as I grabbed my Winchester BB gun. The actual guns were in a locker I had no access to, so this would have to do for protection. Should we? She asked. Before we heard a dog. My heart lifted as I hoped it was karma, but it was a hound dog, it sounded like, and it was getting farther away.

Mother's instincts seemed to kick in as she went out there with me. We both knew the dangers of the woods at night, and she began calling out for the dog. I also called out, but I was calling out for karma, really. As we headed into the tree line, not wanting to go down too far, we noticed as we stopped just before the hill that things were way too quiet. Sure, we heard some nighttime insects, but as we heard the man call out again, he sounded closer. Even though the dog's barking was faint and clearly far away,

the leaves on the ground were basically dead. Yet there were no crunching noises, as whoever was out there was getting closer and closer. There was no flashlight shining either. When our neighbor lost their cat, we saw their flashlights in the woods, so we became skeptical at the fact that the strange man we heard didn't have one,

and we stopped calling out. Turning around, we headed back to the small path and into the safety of the yard. Our dogs wagged their tails at the side of us, but it wasn't the same without my dog. We walked along the tree line, staying a few feet back as we looked for some form of light, but found none. It was then we heard it. Come here, boy, in a deep, angry voice. It sounded like it was down some, to our right.

I felt the hair raised on the back of my neck and rushed into the back of our house as our dogs began barking like crazy. Their snarled growls being the only noise as everything else went silent. Mother wasn't far behind as we got inside and closed the door, staring out as we turned out the lights inside, so if the man entered our yard, he couldn't see us as we stayed at the glass door. As I thought of how weird this all was, I realized something. He never said the name of what he was looking for. In fact, he said the same words I had earlier when karma had run off.

Was he copying me? My thoughts were interrupted as I heard my mother grasp and cover her mouth. Before she closed the curtains to the door, her tan complexion had gone pale. Without thinking, I took a peek as I could hear one of our dogs going crazy. I saw her lunging and growling, so I looked to where she was looking. What I saw was not human. I don't even know what it was. Its skin was white.

The moon wasn't even needed to see. It was so pale, I was sure it was a ghost at first. Its eyes sunken into its face. It didn't seem to have a nose, and it looked like it was upside down, crawling on its hands and feet, as if it was doing a crab walk, sort of. But its head was upright,

back arched so its stomach was pointing up, to the sky as it slowly made its way from the tree line. Its teeth didn't even fit its mouth and its jaw hung open, a long slimy tongue hanging out as its dark, beady eyes looked around. Here, boy. It spoke. Come here, boy. It just kept saying. Its head twitching as it turned halfway, shakily before snapping back upright. It didn't even seem to care about the dogs barking at it. Then it looked at the house, and I swear for a second that we made eye contact. I couldn't move for the fear it would see the curtain movements. For what seemed like an eternity, we were just staring at one

another until it twisted its body slowly, bones seeming to crack and pop as it began standing on its legs. Whatever it is, was tall, tall, bony, and its skin tied around its frame, showing every bone in its disgustingly lanky body. Some hair hung from its elbows, patches splotted around its chest. Its arms were long and almost seemed to drag on the ground. Long, sharp nails were seen. They were black, but the moonlight made them seem to shine slightly. Its body proportions were just so off.

It had regular leg size, a bent torso, like its spine grew crooked, and those long arms. It stood at least eight feet tall, and I was petrified. How was it able to twist its body like that? How was a creature like this, even alive? I thought I was going to crap myself at the side of this thing. Is this what karma went after? Did this get him?

My thought stopped when it began walking towards our house, taking slow strides, as its body seemed to sway with each small step it took. Here, boy. Its voice croaked. Though it was hard to hear through the glass, my hand that held lightly to the curtain was shaking as I felt unable to look away, as I felt those eyes were staring back at me. A flash suddenly gone around our backyard. Our neighbor was heading over, I assumed, based on the direction it was coming from. He must have heard the dogs going ballistic and came to check it out. I thought he was going to get attacked, but the creature screeched and ran back into the trees.

Even after it left, I was stuck just staring at the trees until the dogs turned their attention to the front yard. Did it circle around? Slowly, I finally stepped away as I looked to the door and heard a knock. My knees felt so weak as I released a breath I wasn't aware I was holding. My mom had answered the door, and it was our neighbor explaining that he had heard our dog going crazy. Just like I thought. I didn't hear much of the conversation, as I felt. sick and ran to the bathroom. Emptying the contents of food I had just eaten hours before,

Mother questioned me later that night before bed about what I saw, but I couldn't answer. She saw it too, but only a glimpse. She didn't see the way it moved, the way it stared at me. Later that night around 2 a.m., our neighbor gave us a call, saying he saw our dog in his backyard. I ran out back, hoping it really was him. And there he was, strutting over to us with his tail between his legs as he knew he was in trouble for running off. Yet I couldn't be mad at him. I was just glad that whatever that thing was hadn't gotten to him. I moved shortly after that experience and now live in the city. I guess I thought that by riding this out, the nightmares would stop. But they haven't. I can't get the image of those eyes burning into my mind out.

I've also written this as a warning. If you lose your dog in the woods and hear some unfamiliar voice calling for it when you thought you were alone, run. Even if you have a group of friends or family, run, go home and stay away from the windows. There's no telling what it might do if it actually catches you. I have lived in Inverness, Scotland, all of my life. house which I live is essentially in the middle of nowhere and is surrounded by woods which go on for ages. The trail to get onto the main road is through the woods. There is no escaping them. I have gone into these woods every day since I was a little girl and as I got older, started taking

my dog in there for long walks and sometimes even a night out in the park. Never any reports of a dangerous animal in there except your average fox, and one time a female wolf and her pups, but they were taken to an animal sanctuary. The fact is, it's never been a dangerous place, not until recently. I live in the same house I lived in when I was a little girl, but now it's my fiancee and I that live there. My parents moved to a petite neighborhood in the town, as they're getting older, and it's more manageable, and I decided to keep the house for Josh and I. Recently, I've been getting home from work later than usual, so it's been well past dark, especially this time of year. When I get back, it's usually 7.30 p.m. When I get in,

my dog is always antsy for a walk in the woods, as he hasn't been getting them regularly, since I've been working later, and Josh is always working late. He's a police officer. Anyway, it was Monday the 25th of November. When I started noticing something in the woods, I got home around 7.30, and when I got in, my dog was ready to go out for a run in the woods. He was hysterical. I quickly changed and got my dog's leash and opened the door, and he took off running out the garden gate, and straight into the woods. I followed him, slower, though. He knows where he's going, and knows my pace and where to find me. So I take my time and leisurely stroll through the woods, and just as I was starting to get into the heart of the woods,

I hear a sharp cracking sound, like something big has just stood up on a large stick and snapped it in half. I don't worry though, because I'm used to hearing these sorts of sounds, as I'm always in the woods. I carried on, and around ten minutes after the large crack, which came from up ahead, I hear another one. This one was closer, more violent. I'm not going to lie, it made me jump.

At this point, Potato, my dog, must have been a little bit. have been a bit rattled as well, because he came skirting through the woods faster than I've seen him run before. Potato is a small dog, just a short-haired fur ball with stubby legs, which restricts him from running too fast. This time, though, he's running too fast that he's tripping over his small legs and the woodland ground. I stop walking fast enough to reach down and grab him, and I scoop him up to calm him down. Once he stopped panting so hard, and his little heart stopped hammed I put him down on the floor and we carry on our walk. Potato doesn't run off like he usually does after he comes back to make sure I'm still following.

He stays by my side and doesn't stay too far behind or in front. I strike this as unusual because nothing really scares him. Like me, he is used to the sounds we encounter in the woods because he has been with me since I was 18. We walk down to the end of the woods to where there is a short river, which is usually where we stop on our nighttime walks. He gets a small drink from the river before he's ready to start back off through the woods, into the house.

I noticed that he doesn't spend as much time messing around by the river like he usually does, and he's more on edge and jumps when he hears a crack. I figure the large crack we heard before must have scared him, so I quickly get myself sordid and walk through the woods home because I don't want him to feel on edge about being in the woods. When we reach home, I open the doors and he charges through straight into the laundry room where it's warm, and he has a little bed with his favorite blanket that came with him when we bought him. I was worried, but didn't think too much of it. And I knock off my boots at the door and scrape the frozen mud off of them, so I could take them into the house. And that's when I

seen something move in my line of sight. I quickly turn and see black fur shoot behind a group of large trees. I put my boots back on and start off down the path and out of the garden gate, and I see something moving behind the trees again. I start forward, and I think it might be one of the dogs from the house just a little down the road from mine. As I went forward, Potato comes out and follows me. He walks just ahead of me before he notices movement and tenses up. He starts growling and bearing his teeth, which he never does. Not even when he sees. He sees him. He walks just ahead of me. He of fox in the woods. The thing behind the trees starts moving forward, and when I first glance at it, I don't know what I was looking at. It looked like a big, deformed wolf, but wasn't

walking like a wolf. It was walking on its hind legs, with its front legs in front of him for support. It moved like a gorilla. I was too stunned to move, and potato was growling and snarling even worse now. When I realize it's staring at us, also bearing its large, set of teeth, I noticed its large, yellow, glowing eyes. The sense comes back into me, and I slowly grab potato and run straight back into the house as quickly as I can. All the while, this thing was growling loudly at me, but didn't move. I slammed the door and took potato into his little room and gave him some food to calm him down. I walked through the living room and closed the curtains and do the same in the kitchen. Then I phone Josh and tell him what I just

witnessed, and he reassures me and tells me that when he gets home at 11, he will make sure everything is okay. Until then, I just sat and watched TV with Potato and had some dinner, and tried to take my mind off whatever it was I seen. Just a little after 11, I see Josh's headlights shine through the curtain, and Potato starts getting excited, and goes and waits by the door. I stand up to look out the curtains, and sure enough, Josh is shining his torch into the woods, and looking about. About 15 minutes later, he comes in and says there was nothing there, but there is a deer carcass just a little into the woods.

That unnerves me, but I don't think anything of it, and we go to bed, and that's that. Over the next few days, I don't think much about what I saw, and Josh doesn't mention it again either. Josh and I had been working a lot, so Potato was staying with my parents for a few days, until Josh and I were off for a week for our seven-year anniversary. Yesterday I finished work early, and that was me off for a week, so I went to my parents' house and picked up Potato, who was quite a few pounds heavier than when I left him, all thanks to my mom.

She's always had a soft spot for my dog. I spend about a half hour at my parents before going home and changing before getting potato ready to go out for a short walk because it's getting colder, and it's too cold to stay out for too long. I put on my coat, scarf, hat, and gloves, and my walking boots, and I put on Potato's winter jacket, and we set off on our walk. We get a small bit into the woods, and it's apparent that Potato hasn't forgotten about our encounter we had last time we were in there, so he doesn't run off,

and sticks to my side for the whole walk. Nothing happened until we were walking back to the house. We were nearing the edge of the forest, and I could see the gate to my house, and I could see that Josh was now home because his patrol car was parked next to my car. Potato sees this too, starts walking a bit faster towards the house, and Josh comes out of the front door to greet Potato. But just as Potato walked out of the forest, he gets knocked to the floor by something that's large with black fur, and the rest is a blur.

I don't know what to do, but my adrenaline starts kicking in when I realize my little potato is getting attacked by a massive beast. Josh apparently feels the same because he runs back into the house and comes back out with a rifle. I run up to the creature, which wasn't a wise choice now that I look back, and kick it with as much force as I could, and it growls and I do it again, because I see that there are red spots all over the ground, and I knew it must have been potatoes, because the beast didn't have a single scratch.

I'm trying to get it off a potato, but it's massive. He turned to look at me with its piercing yellow eyes, and I was shocked at the sight of it. It had the face of a wolf, but it was so much bigger and fiercer, and didn't have fur in some places, but was just skin. It stood up on its hind legs and towered over me. It was bigger than I anticipated. I moved back from it because I realized it was off of potato,

and it followed me, and just as it was about to swipe at me, a shot rang through the air, and the beast-like creature howled so loud I had to cover my ears, I heard it running off, and I opened my eyes and stood in shock, but the side of Josh running, and the sound of whimpering beside me, brought me back to reality, and ran to Potato who was bleeding a lot, so much that I couldn't tell where it was coming from. Josh picked him up, and we ran to the house, and I followed close behind, not looking back into the woods, because I was too frightened with the idea of what I might see.

I locked the door behind us, and Josh takes Potato into the laundry room, and plays He faces him on top of the clean worktop and grabs one of his t-shirts that was folded in a pile on top of the washing machine. I stood stroking Potato's head and crying because I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do. Potato was whimpering and twitching, so I tried to comfort him as much as possible. Josh started wiping the mess away, and that's when I noticed something that made my heart stop. Potato had two deep gashes, one on his neck and one close to his stomach. I remember crying out and Josh runs and grabs the phone, not before telling me to keep pressure on both of the wounds, to hold it. I placed both my hands on the wounds and pressed down until Josh came back and told me that he was going to take Potato down the road to the nearest vet and told me to stay home.

I wasn't happy, but I didn't argue because potato was injured, and I could hear it in his breathing and his little eyes. Josh left and I sat crying in the living room for hours until 3 a.m. Josh came into the house, and when I see he didn't have potato, I cried harder. But anyway, I worry about potato. He has to stay at the vets for a few days, as they gave him stitches, but they had to see whether he would make it through the night, as the gashes were very deep, and they weren't sure whether or not he would succumb to the wounds. Just past 11 this morning, we got a call from the vets,

telling us that potato made it through the night and is awake, looking for me and Josh. So we took his blanket and we sat with him for a few hours. He will be home on Wednesday if everything is okay, and I will visit him at the vets. I haven't seen anything in the woods, but we never usually did after dark, and I'm not going in there hunting until I'm sure that my potato is back home safe and sound.

I know yesterday wasn't the last time I will see it. I want to start this off by stating that I'm a 25-year-old female, and I don't really consider myself to be a, an expert camper, if that's even a proper term. I'm somewhat of a novice, at least when compared to my boyfriend, who's been on countless of outings all over the country since he was a teen. I would never make it on my own. While he would probably find a way to send a smoke signal even on a rainy day, I think that should paint a clear enough picture of where we both stand on the subject. But if there's one thing we share in common, it's the fact that we've read and heard about all kinds of

of strange, creepy, and downright unexplainable things happening in remote locations. Of course, when it comes to the internet, you'll just have to take it all with a grain of salt. But even when it comes to some fellow campers that we've met on the road, you just never know. Sure, they don't really have a reason to lie, but then again, what's the harm?

They tell some random nobodies a weird story that they came up with just for kicks, and in the process, they might even get to scare themselves later on by overthinking it. Like I said, I'm not an experienced camper, but I'm no stranger to it either. Anyone that's ever gone camping will likely tell you that it's only natural to hear something weird every now and then. But hey, that's just nature for you. You eventually get over it, as my boyfriend said, but I'm pretty sure there's no getting over what happened to us. It happened on the second night of what was supposed to be a four-day trip,

The first thing I recall is suddenly waking up in the middle of the night with the weirdest sensation, almost as if I hadn't been sleeping at all before that, which is just weird to me. I heard some noise right outside our tent, and upon realizing my boyfriend wasn't next to me, I quickly came to the conclusion that the leaking sound outside was, well, him taking a leak. No big mystery there, no reason to freak out. He had gotten up to take a leak and likely tried his best to make as little noise as possible, but because I have yet to get used to this sort of environment, I guess I can't help waking up due to the slightest thing,

whether it's a sound, an itch or whatever. It wasn't his fault, I thought, just as I was about to roll over and go back to sleep. But I couldn't roll over. I couldn't move. It didn't make sense to me, which was a good enough reason for me to start free. out, if only fear hadn't gotten to me first. Just as soon as the words, sleep paralysis popped in my head, I realized what was really going on. It's not that I couldn't literally move because my body wasn't responding, because I could tell that it was with what little

sensation I had left before the chills took over. But rather, something was keeping me in place with the strangest, but firmest grip. I could clearly feel the pressure-like sensation, mostly on my arms, wrist and shoulders, and legs, occurring almost instantly whenever I tried to shift my position in any way I could and prevented me from doing so. Just as I was about to call out to my boyfriend, however, a pressure manifested itself right in the back of my neck, almost as if a weight had been dropped on it.

What's more, another familiar yet eerily distinct sensation appeared to cover my mouth. It felt cold, bony and dry. like a branch or something like that. But even in that near darkness, my boyfriend had lit up a small lamp outside. I could see that there wasn't anything on me, and yet I couldn't bring myself to utter a single word.

I could barely make a sound in my desperate state, and the more I tried to fend off this invisible force, the harder its grasp got. I did whatever I could, but it wasn't until I heard the voice that I stopped completely, out of fear more than anything else. Thank you, it said, almost like a raspy whisper traveling along with the night breeze. My eyes quickly shifted to where my boyfriend was, right outside the tent.

It couldn't have been him. I knew it couldn't have been him. The voice didn't belong to him, but whose could it be? Even in my current state, I was able to tell there wasn't anyone else inside the tent with me, but all signs seemed to indicate the very different reality than the one I was experiencing. Warm, so warm, it continued. It took me a moment, but once I added the voice on top of all of the other weird things that happened since I woke up, I instantly realized that those pressure-like sensations that were keeping me put felt a lot like hands and fingers holding me down,

same as the ones over my neck and mouth. Thank you for being warm. By this point, tears were already streaming down. my face as hundreds of thoughts flashed before my mind, each one darker than the last. My boyfriend eventually walked back inside the tent, completely oblivious to what I was going through. I tried to get his attention, but sadly, eyes looking out of their sockets due to absolute terror isn't something that makes a whole lot of noise. He just lay down next to me, unaware of it all. I can't blame him. I mean, from his perspective, he had gotten up to take a leak and had no reason to believe he had woke me up in the process.

I feared he was just going to fall asleep and leave me alone with whatever was happening. But then he mumbled something. I waited, not that there was much else for me to do. Yeah? He asked. After another brief pause, he continued, Babe, what is it? Stop nudging me.

But I wasn't. I wasn't doing anything, because I couldn't, and if it wasn't me. He finally turned to face me, but as soon as our eyes met, and he had saw the terror that had taken a hold of me, I saw him fall victim to the exact same thing, unable to move and unable to speak, just like me. All I could do was lock eyes with his gaze, as it gradually showed confusion, frustration, and finally, fear. All so warm, the voice spoke again, and judging my boyfriend's reaction, I could tell that he heard it too. I wasn't crazy. Something was really going on, and whatever it was, we were completely powerless against it.

I don't know exactly how long we stayed there just like that, completely motionless, staring into each other's eyes with tears rolling down our cheeks, unable to comfort one another when we were so certain that our lives were about to end. I lost track of time. It had become meaningless, especially with the voice constantly spewing crazy nonsense right into our ears throughout our entire ordeal, as if someone else was right in between the two of us.

Thank you. Thank you for being so warm. So, so warm. My boyfriend and I eventually snapped back into reality almost at the exact same time. By then it was already morning, but we could tell that we hadn't gotten a second of sleep. Just by looking at each other's faces, we knew we both had experienced the same thing for real. It hadn't been a nightmare or a shared delusion of any kind.

We quickly packed up our things and got out of there, while barely exchanging any words. On our way back, we came across an officer from the U.S. Forest Service, who was able to tell, almost instantly, that something bad had happened to it. us. My boyfriend tried to shrug it off. He just wanted to get out of there and go home, but I couldn't help myself and blurted out some things about what had happened. I didn't even think. It probably all sounded like gibberish from a crazy lady, talking about a mysterious presence that got inside her tent, but the officer kept a calm, respectful, yet somehow somber, faced throughout the entire exchange. First, he made sure that we weren't in need of any urgent

medical attention, and then he called for a vehicle to come and pick us up before dropping us off at one of their small offices located nearby. He told us that we didn't have to do it if we didn't want to, but that he would greatly appreciate it if we could each provide a separate statement in regards to what happened that night. My boyfriend declined and insisted for me to do the same, but I didn't listen to him. After what we'd been through, it felt good having other people around you, ready to hear you out, and not dismiss you right away. What's more? I could tell from my boyfriend's behavior that this is the sort of thing that he would just put a lid on and never bring up again. So, if I was ever going to talk openly about it, and hope to get some kind of

an explanation in return, it was now or never. Plus, the whole thing was relatively fresh in my mind, for better or worse, so I just had to do it. The officer was really cool and respectful, and I hope I'm not getting anyone in trouble by saying this, but I recorded most of our conversation with my phone without his knowledge or consent. I know it's probably against the law, but the reason I did it is because I wanted to make sure that I didn't forget any of the things he told me. You'll have to forgive me for that, but please do take into consideration my state of mind at the time.

I was still somewhat out of it, not to mention the fact that we hadn't gotten any sleep or rest the night before either. So I was just making sure that I kept a proper record of it all for posterity, since I couldn't trust my brain to take note of all of the things he said and remember them down the line. I'm leaving out names, dates, and actual locations for that purpose alone, to avoid getting anyone in trouble. Once I finished telling him the whole thing, from beginning to end, he asked me to mark the location of our map as accurately as possible on one of his maps.

I gave him the precise location, and right after doing so, he drew a circular radius around it, which perplexed me a little. The more I studied his pensive expression, the more convinced I became that this wasn't anything new to him. In fact, not only was this not new, it was also something that required some actual, on-the-field work from him, which left me somewhat distraught. After all, if you tell most people a similar story to what happened to us, they would just shrug it off as it being your imagination's fault, I think. When I politely asked him what the deal was, he apologized, said it was nothing, and that they would take over from there and comb over the area to see if they'd find anything. I didn't believe him and called him out on it before I even realized it, much to my shame.

But he was very understandable, and this is where I'll quote. some of the things he said to me, look, I've been doing this for quite a while, and I've heard and seen all sorts of things. I can't tell you anything more than that, because it wouldn't be right, you understand? It wouldn't be fair to you. You just experience something you can't quite logically, rationally explain,

and now you want answers. I get that, but I'm not in a position to give those to you. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe it wasn't. What I'm trying to say is, it's part of our job to shoulder that burden. It's not yours to carry. Many campers lose their lives each year, most in unfortunate but preventable accidents, while others. And then there's those who happen to experience some things that just make them come out of the woods all shell-shocked and the like,

but certain that they'll never set foot in a similar setting ever again for as long as they breathe. You're all right, miss, a little shaken. a little dehydrated, but you're all right. You're going to be okay. You and your partner. And that really is the only thing that matters. You're alive. You're okay.

And the only thing that I wish for you is, for you to forget about what happened, no matter how hard or impossible the idea may seem to you at this time. No, it's not worth it. Trust me on this one. If you try to figure things out on your own, not that I'm saying that there are things

that need figuring out, mind you. You'll keep on spiraling down an endless rabbit hole. It's not worth it. What happened to you could have happened to anyone else. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not about you. And it has nothing to do with you. That much I can assure you, but you best be certain that we'll take care of it.

It's what we do. When I asked him if he had ever seen or heard similar reports of what I had described, he made a little grimace, clearly trying to fight off the urge to tell me more than he should. He had waved his hand, declining to answer, but knowing as well as I did that he had answered me in the process. Finally, when I asked him if I could leave my contact number for him to call me at a later time, maybe once the issue was resolved, and he could tell me about it. His response was very swift and pointless to contest. No, I'm sorry, but no. You've done more than enough. In fact, you've helped us out tremendously. Thank you for your time.

Afterwards, they drove us all the way out of the area and dropped us near the city from where we eventually made our way back home. It's been a little weird ever since, with my boyfriend not wanting to discuss these events, as if he's pretending that nothing happened at all. I can't tell if this whole thing just scared him to his core, or if there's something more to it. Either way, it helps being back in the city and being surrounded by all of this noise and people, but I don't know what's next for me. for me. Part of me wants to follow the officer's advice. I'll admit that I'm still as curious as ever, cautiously so. But I know the man was not only speaking truthfully, but from experience as well. I really want to let it go, because that's probably for the best, but it's not that easy, especially with the internet at your disposal just a couple of swipes away, and a whole world

of information and people out there, ready to share their stories and knowledge with you. This incident might have put my boyfriend off from camping for a little while, maybe permanently for all I know, but I can't say the same for me, I think. Maybe someday I'll go back, on my own. I really don't know why I would, but that's just the me talking right now. Who knows? In time, I might just find a good enough reason. I'm a private guard in a European country.

My job is mainly at night, as I usually patrol the streets. with my car. Here, the law about guns are quite restricted compared to the U.S. Our job is to prevent and report crimes to the actual police. We carry guns, but in fact we can't use them, as they are a mere dissuader to hostile subjects. My nights are made of me driving around, checking the outside of commercial buildings and answering alarms when needed, usually in isolated places where cars don't usually pass by. My area is quite cold and humid, and it is not uncommon during the winter nights

that a strong fog covers the streets, buildings, and entire villages, like in Silent Hill, a fog that would make you think everything is possible in those dark, isolated places. That night, I was doing my usual routine. I've almost finished my patrol. I was driving on an isolated road to reach one of the last clients,

a warehouse for I don't know what kind of stuff. It was a secondary road running in the fields, nothing but grass and bushes on the sides of the street. As usual this time of year, the strong fog didn't let me see the road in front of me for more than several feet. Slowly, I was driving to the building, nothing but fog in the distant light of the warehouse in front of me. I was tired, the last coffee I had was consumed more than two hours before,

and staying focused wasn't easy. Suddenly, a figure just a bit smaller than a human being crossed the road in front of me. The fog didn't let me see details. It was very fast, running like a dog. But for sure, that unnatural pose and dimensions weren't like any animal had ever seen in my career. And I've seen deer, cats, once even a small bear crossing my path.

Nothing like that, something vaguely similar to a human. I stopped the car immediately. I didn't know what I saw, but it for sure wasn't normal. My job was to repeat irregular detail during the patrol. But what should I say to the station? I saw something for a few seconds in front of my car's light. Really? Something very vivid, but that could be influenced by my tired brain? They probably would laugh at me in the best case scenario, suggest me to stop drinking on the job and the worse.

I decided to go on and reach to the isolated building. As always, I left my car open, took my flashlight out with me in the shadows. I recognized with my hand the correct key to put in the gate of the building and started my search. I didn't turn on the light inside the car. I know every part of it, just by memory. I made my patrol by foot around the warehouse, checked every door, and after almost five minutes, I got in my car. I put away the key without using the light. I got on the road again, same fog, but this time nothing unusual on the road.

The air in the car was oddly cold. The heater was pumping warm air in the vehicle, and the windows were closed, but I really couldn't understand why it was that cold. And then a noise seemed to come from the car. I've never been a mechanic guy. I don't understand anything about cars or engines. I just drive them. But that noise didn't sound like anything I've ever heard from a car before. Like a slow, not too heavy scratching. The car seemed to drive just fine, so I would just report the problem once I finished my shift. After five minutes of this, I got a call from my colleague. An alarm went off near my position, so he asked if I could check it out.

Lately, that alarm went off every night, as a technical problem. So it wasn't anything serious. I arrived to the place a bit later, left my car running outside, and checked inside the building. Everything was normal, as usual, just the alarm going crazy. I got in the car, finally ready to finish my shift. The strange noise finally stopped. No need to report the problem. I arrived at the station where I worked and found my colleague waiting for me outside to get in the car and start his shift.

I took my stuff and got out of the car. He got in and turned on the light to search for something. I was already walking away when he called me. Dude, what the heck? You took a dog in the car? What is this? And then with horror, I saw it. In the back of the vehicle, just behind my seat,

there was mud everywhere and footprints, big ones. Of some animal I cannot explain. Like a big, dirty dog opened up the car door, got inside behind me, and closed it without making any noise, and then it made sense, the strange noise. All that time, it was behind me, watching, grinning. I was in shock and couldn't even speak. My colleague was confused in staring at me, and if I just turned the light on,

I would have seen it, staring at me in the rearview mirror. Pretty sure last night has ruined hunting for me for good. I don't know if I'll ever feel comfortable out of it. in the woods after last night. You see, I have no family here in central Michigan, so I figured I might as well try to bag a buck. Well, I didn't see one. Just a very creepy guy, dressed as an officer. I got out to my stand around 3 p.m. Perfect timing for me, as I like to spend around 3 hours out in the quiet backwoods. It really doesn't matter to me if I get a deer. It's just a bonus. The real treat is escaping reality for a few hours and enjoying nature's beauty. I didn't see much, a couple squirrels

and a small dough, which of course I passed up. It was getting to be around 5.30 p.m. when the sun was quickly fading. I knew I had roughly 20 minutes of enough light before I knew the evening hunt would be over. Just as I was about to quietly gather my gear and get ready to leave my ground blind, a twig snapped to my left. My heart began to be. began to beat a little quicker as I envisioned an eight-pointer strolling out just before nightfall, offering me a clear shot. I slowly leaned my head forward so I could try to get a better look of the animal that was approaching. Something stopped me though. The forest was unusually quiet. The air began to fill with a very odd smell of what I could only describe as iron. I'd smelled

it many times before as I've shot plenty of deer throughout my 29 years of life. A bleat ran through the woods. Instantly I froze, and my heart was beating for a whole different reason. Fear. This was no ordinary deer bleat. It sounded like a person was trying to mimic a deer. I sat as still as a stone, as the crunching of my unwanted guest slowly walked closer and closer. It was almost pitch black now, and I was left feeling more terrified than ever.

Something felt extremely off about the whole situation. people that called for deer, used a deer call, which would have been hard to tell apart from an actual deer. This, however, sounded painfully obvious that it was someone using their own voice. It blasted through the forest again, this time, maybe 10 feet away. My heart was beating uncontrollably at this point. Whoever was out here had to know I was there. It is rifle season, and it's incredibly stupid to be out here wandering in the woods, let alone trying to make yourself sound like a deer. The smell of iron was getting to be unbearable, as whatever was out here was getting closer. I decided to bring my 30-30 to my shoulder and prepare to defend myself if need be.

That's when I finally saw movement through the flap of my blind. It was a tall, lanky man, wearing an officer's uniform. For a second, relief washed over me, as the feeling of not being alone was much better than being by myself in the dark woods. Then, as he took another step, I noticed how off everything was about him. His arms were too long and contrast to his short legs. Now that he was within 10 to 15 feet of me, I could see just how tall he was. He had to be close to 7 feet tall.

He stopped directly in front of me and threw his head back, making that awful bleeding noise again. That was when I got a good look at his face and almost threw up from the amount of fear that I was feeling. His mouth didn't move as he bleated, but I could see his cheekbones moving. His mouth drooped in a sad-looking expression. Blood dripped down the corner of his mouth.

He bellowed again. Seeing it a second time was when I noticed what was wrong about him. His face wasn't his. He had the skin of someone's face pulled over his head. Most likely the officer's face. My heart started to beat so loud. I actually feared he would hear it. I don't know how, but he still didn't notice me.

only about 15 feet away, sitting in my blind. I prayed he wouldn't. I watched in horror as he took slow, staggered steps until he walked out of view. The sound of his footsteps slowly got quieter as it walked further and further away. The smell of rot. I heard one more final bleat ring through the woods before his footsteps were all out of range together. I waited another 20 minutes before slowly exiting my blind. Too afraid he would hear me and come back.

I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could back to my truck. Once I was about 30 yards away from my truck, I heard the bleat again, followed by heavy footsteps. He spotted me. I took off running full blast, knowing that I had a short distance to cover, hearing him get closer with crazy speed. I made the mistake of glancing back as I reached back to my truck and what I saw will still stick with me forever.

He was running on all fours, making these huge galloping strides. He moved way faster than he should have been able to in that position. I jumped in my truck and started it with my shaky hands. Just as I started to pull away, I saw a flash, then a huge banging noise as it slammed into the side of my truck. I floored it and raced out of there as fast as I could without ditching it. He gave chase for a short while, but fell behind pretty quickly. I drove the 15 minutes home in silence, looking in my rearview mirror every five seconds expecting to see him chasing me.

He never did, though, thank goodness. Once I got home, I grabbed my stuff and raced inside, locking the door behind me. I tried to make sense of what I saw, but I just couldn't. I have no idea what that thing was. I was pretty exhausted after running and having my heart racing for such a long time, so I went straight to bed. I had a hard time falling asleep as the memory of his scratched out

stolen face was burned into my brain. Just as I finally started to doze off, I froze again, as I heard the same strange bleat out of my window in my backyard somewhere. This thing followed me home. It made sounds out there all night and I could hear its odd footsteps

as it circled around the house. I made it through the night somehow, so I'm posting this. in hopes that one of you might be able to help me identify what this thing is, maybe how to get rid of it. I don't want to call the police, because I know they will think I'm insane. So if anyone has any suggestions,

I'd gladly take the advice. This happened a while ago, but my then-girlfriend, now wife, Mary, has finally given me permission to share this. It happened in the mid-80s. We were 18, and we had just started going around together. It was the middle of summer, and we had just finished school. I held down a job as an apprentice mechanic, while she worked as a receptionist at her father's company.

This meant that we didn't get to spend as much spare time together as we would have liked. However, the perfect opportunity for a weekend getaway arose, with a long weekend federal holiday, and I was able to convince her with only minimal pestering that we should go for the weekend to camp in a popular national park. When that weekend arrived, I packed my truck with all of the supplies we would need and drove around to hers. I waited patiently on her front porch for her to be ready, while her father stood with arms crossed in a hard glare. When she was finally ready, at least four eternities later, she said goodbye to her father, and he gave me a stern handshake with a gruff. You look after her, to which I agreed that I would. Being the father of two now adult women myself, I understand his concerns, but I would be lying if I said he didn't scare the crap out of me then, and still a little bit now.

However, once we hit the open road, we were gone without a care in the world. Making our way through picturesque-y-ass countryside, we sang along to the radio with our windows down until we were good and windbeat. played monotonous travel games until we ran out of items to guess, and I let her nap when she fell asleep leaning against the passenger side window. While she slept, I got a little turned around. There were no turns on the road where I thought there should have been, and we ended up going straight for a long time where there weren't any familiar landmarks. As the car began to run low on gas, I decided I would need to pull into the next gas station I saw,

which as it turned out wasn't too much further down the road. Its neon lights drew me in like a beacon in the night, but as I approached, I saw that it was quite run down. There was a layer of grimy dust over everything. The fuel prices were outrageous. The neon light was missing a couple letters, and a single moth flew repeatedly into the light above the service attendant. Suffice to say, if my car wasn't dying for a drink,

we wouldn't have stopped. I left Mary asleep in the car while I filled it up and locked the car out of paranoia when I went to pay and ask for directions. Inside, the attendant looked just as washed up as the gas station did. It was a guy around my age

with an absent expression on his face and our conversation went to something like this. Pump 3. Pack of Skittles. And can you tell me which direction the National Park is? I asked direct though not rudely. That'll be $50 and $90. He spoke in a heavy droll of a country accent

and just pointed down the road in response to my question. Okay, uh, thanks. Good evening to you. I said uncertainly, but decided to just go with it and re-consult my map if necessary. There was a long pause for a moment, and I was almost out of the store before he spoke up again.

You be careful out there, in so-and-so forest. The way he said it was unsettling, and I hesitated a moment, unsure of how to respond. In the end, I gave him an awkward nod of thanks, and left a little quicker while reflecting on the strange conversation and crazy prices.

However, when I came out and looked to the car, my heart leapt into my throat. The passenger door was open, and Mary wasn't in the car. Mary! I called with a wave of the car. of concern raising in my stomach as I jogged back to the car at a considerable pace. What?

She answered almost immediately, and sounding just as panicked as she picked up on the strain of my voice. I whirled around confused to see her behind me coming from the direction of the bathrooms. You, I... Why did you leave the car door open? I demanded. Worry giving way to hot embarrassment and uncertainty. She apologized for scaring me, and then explained that, she hadn't left the door open. My initial thought at the time was that we had just been

robbed, but upon searching the vehicle, saw nothing was out of place or otherwise missing. We assumed that she may have in fact just not closed the door as firmly as she thought, and that it had swung open after her. This was really the only rational explanation that would calm our nerves enough to get back on the road and keep driving. We traveled down the dark road until the asphalt gave way to gravel, and we passed signs, pointing to our intended destination. The camp itself was actually pretty easy to find, once we had an idea of where we were going,

though setting up in the dark was a little spooky. Mary held the light while I pitched the tent and lit a fire. Overall, I'd say the first night ended up being pretty romantic. The mild state of fear put her into a clingy mood, and I was only happy to oblige. The only thing I could say might have been some indication of what was going to come is when I went to get the tent out of the back of my truck, the tarp canopy over the tray was loose, not entirely undone or anything,

and there was obviously nothing in the back other than our supplies, but it's something that I look back on now and wonder about. It could have come loose from the travel, sure. Then again, I didn't check it at the gas station, so who really knows? The following day we woke up early to welcoming sounds of morning songbirds and we ate breakfast, which was a gourmet assortment of beans and toast in the company of a field mouse. As it turned out, we'd chosen a pretty good campsite in the dark. Situated near the edge of a clearing, there was a decent patch around us,

with a clear view across the river to the hillside with deer grazing and thick woods behind us. Activities for the day included frolicing. in the river and hiking. We settled into the evening drinking around a campfire with neighboring campers and exchanged stories. Our new friends, a couple of guys named Joe and Patrick, were excited to share stories about their experiences the day prior. They had encountered the odd fellow at the gas station as well, but Joe told us in a more hush tone that other strange things had happened to them since arriving. They had heard the footsteps crunching the leaves around their caravan late at night and seen unidentifiable shapes moving between the trees at dusk.

This was about the time that Mary added in that while we were out on our hike, she felt watched, or like we were being followed, and kept glancing behind just to make sure. As she spoke, I could tell she was genuinely spooked, though she kept her voice jovial. Patrick noticed too, and was quick to interject that it was probably nothing more than wildlife. Joe, however, was equally as eager to inform us that he had grown up in the area and that this forest had a reputation for missing campers. Of the campers that had been found, their bodies were always discovered beyond recognition. Some were found seemingly skewered at the top of impossibly tall trees, while others had been strung up by their feet and torn apart. All circumstances were mysterious, and while each case had an official explanation, many locals suspected the police.

department was covering something up since most explanations were a stretch at best. The conversation died off pretty quickly with that information, and Mary and I returned to our campsite. She was understandably unsettled and even suggested that maybe we should leave. I reassured her the best I could, promising that if anything unusual started to happen, that we would leave, and my drunken charm somehow managed to convince her, since it was only one more night anyway. Under the guise of watching the stars, I laid down blankets and pillows in the back of the truck, and we lay down together to snuggle. Naturally, things went the way I hoped, and before long, we were getting pretty heated, when we heard a soft snap from the forest.

At hearing the twig break, she stopped and started to sit up. I did my very best to convince her that it was nothing, but the sounds of bushes rustling was undeniable. There was something moving bored us from the brush. At this point, I sat up and gently pushed her to the side and half behind me. I was assuming that it was maybe Joe or Patrick, drunkenly wandering over to us, so I hurried and found the flashlight while she struggled to find her stuff. However, once I turned on the light and pointed it in the direction of the sound, the noises stopped. It was then that we realized it was dead silent, not a single insect, bird, or other otherwise mammalian creature dared to make a peep. This is what truly terrified me. One of the

most basic human instincts we have is that utter silence is bad. I scan the trees and bushes with the light slowly. I could hear Mary barely breathing behind me and realized that I myself was holding my breath as a beam of light shone over empty leaves and branches. The moment it landed on something in the darkness is the moment I'll never forget. Set back between the trees was a pair of round eyes reflecting back at us. They were maybe 100 yards away, if that, and approximately the height you would expect a deer to be standing. Both Mary and I froze as we stared down this thing in the darkness, trying to determine what we thought it was. Then it stood up. We saw the eyes elevate from deer height to what are we seeing height? This thing stood tall, seven or eight feet by my best estimation in the

dark at a distance. Then it screamed. Now when I say it screamed, I mean it let out the most unholy screech I had ever heard. It was simultaneously high-pitched and reverberatingly deep. It shook me to my core, and to this day neither of us had heard anything even remotely similar or have been able to accurately describe the harrowing sound it made. Mary and I sat terrified for a moment before we realized the creature was now running headlong at us, crashing through the undergrowth with fury. I only caught a glimpse of what it looked like. It was a mixture of bare skin and tattered patches of fur,

gaping wide, loose-hanging jaw of a mouth, and sunken in oblong-shaped eyes with distinctive cheekbones. Sometimes at night I still wake up in a cold sweat, imagining it coming for me, or sitting in the dark of my room just beyond the light of my phone screen. At the time, however, we scrambled ourselves out of the back of the truck and into the front. I fumbled frantically with the keys and pedals trying not to stall the thing, while Mary chattering frantically about the impending creature getting closer. She told me later that it almost reached the tail of the truck before I put it into gear,

and we tore off down the road at a dangerous speed. It was really a miracle we made it out in one piece, considering how inebriated I was, and how many times I felt the back end slide out on the gravel as we drifted around bends of the road. I didn't stop driving that night until we were more than halfway home. We passed by the creepy gas station in favor of another more populated and well-lit one in town.

I'm pretty sure we looked ridiculous. Two shell-shocked people staggering out of a dirty, scratched-up, car and wide-eyed. When I tried to have a smoke to calm my nerves, my hands were shaking so bad I could hardly get it to my lips, and when the clerk asked us what happened, neither of us made any sense in our explanations. We checked into a hotel for the night, and made it home earlier than planned the next day. Neither of us mentioned anything to her parents. In fact, she forbid me from mentioning the story until now out of a combination of embarrassment and fear. I was only able to convince her to allow this now because recently, a group of high school kids

disappeared in that forest. According to the news report, four went in and only one came out. The surviving teen was institutionalized for babbling incoherently about a monster in the forest. My wife and I know that we're not crazy. We also know that this means that whatever we saw is still out there somewhere. I begin, there's something you have to understand about the woods, and I'm talking about the deep backcountry, 50 plus miles out from any station or any signs of civilization. After a certain point, everything begins to blend.

The longer you spend out there, the smaller and smaller you become, till you're just another part of the environment, a movement through valleys and peaks. It's depersonalizing and ego-killing. You forget things about yourself, and instincts guide you. It becomes natural, but it also makes you look like a lunatic. That's why we never spend more than eight days alone in the back country at a time. That said, my first few months on the job were everything I wanted, plenty of time outdoors, mostly upkeep on trails in the back country, along with checking up on some old stands

that the Forest Service had acquired in the 50s. The Pine Beetle epidemic was especially bad in my region. in this year, so I had a lot of time marking the mortality rate in the area, amongst other details. For the most part, I loved my job. I'm a bit of an introvert, so time alone outdoors working is perfect for me, but there have been a few moments that still make me uncomfortable to think about. A couple weeks after I started, I woke up early and drove down a pretty rough, forested section of backcountry, with lots of elevation. I was trying to check on a site that some backpackers, who had just returned from a week-long trek,

had reported seeing bonfires a few nights ago. They said the fires seemed to be a few hundred yards off the trail, and that it looked like there were people around the flames. An aerial team couldn't find any signs of the fires, like the backpackers were describing, so they assumed it was falsely reported. Even so, we had a serious burn ban in effect, and I was sent out to double check and make sure.

I got about 20 miles in, before I found the section of trail I needed to go down, covered in earth, destroyed in some sort of landslide. It must have been recent. Neither the backpackers nor the aerial team noticed it, and someone would have. I definitely couldn't drive through, but I was only two miles from the site, so I grabbed my pack, checked my water, and radioed to the forestation from my ATV to let them know I was hiking the rest of the way in. I probably should have waited for a crew to come out and clear the road, but we were all really concerned about the fire, and I won't lie.

I was mad at the thought of backpackers being so careless. You couldn't miss the signs coming into the forest, warning about forest fires and announcing the burn ban. There was no reason to be reckless. And so, I hiked out there. It was only about 10.30 a.m. when I set out. I expected it to take about two hours to get to the area where the fires were reported. The elevation increase was drastic, so I had to pause every so often to catch my breath.

After hiking for a while, I paused for a moment and realized I wasn't on the trail anymore. This isn't that unusual. If you've ever backpacked or even gone on long hikes before, you know that it's easier than you think to stumble off the trail, even for someone experienced. I'm one of the newest and youngest rangers, but I've spent a lot of time outdoors backpacking and hiking, and normally would have a great sense of direction, so I wasn't too alarmed not to know exactly where I was. You get used to being lost. The thing that alarmed me was noticing a pink hue lighting up the forest.

The sun was about to disappear behind the tree line that covered the mountain to the west. I didn't think I'd been hiking that long. I had gone maybe a mile and a half in an hour, or so I thought. Nonetheless, it appeared to be almost 7 p.m. now. I quickly decided the safest thing would be to head back south towards my ATV, which stored all of my overnight gear and come back tomorrow. It would be embarrassing to explain to the other rangers that I lost track of time, but it would be worse to get stuck out here all night. Without the right equipment, I might freeze. Besides, they'd start wondering why I hadn't checked back after so long.

I grabbed some loose stones off the ground and left a sign to indicate I had been there, and set off in the direction I thought I wandered off from the trail. I quickly found it, but it was a section I hadn't been through earlier. Somehow, I had found my way farther north, and funnily enough, I saw a yellow trail marker not too far up the mountain. I realized it was the marker for the next 10-mile section, the area the fire reports had mentioned. The sun was almost touching the mountains now, but I decided to hike up to the marker at least,

stay for a few minutes and then quickly head back before it got completely dark. I realized this wasn't ideal, but at the time it seemed better than going back with nothing to report. I hiked a few dozen yards to the marker and looked out over the valley to the east. It seemed empty, nothing unusual. I took a sip from my water bottle and waited another five minutes. I still didn't see anything, so I decided to head out. I hadn't gone a mile before I smelled smoke coming from down the mountain. I looked around but couldn't see any smoke columns.

It was kind of unsettling. The sunset was so red, everywhere I looked seemed to glow. Getting worried, I stumbled the last mile back and immediately called it in. The night was darker now, and without any trace of the fire in the valley. Despite smelling the smoke earlier, I decided to spend the night on the trail, in case whatever caused it, caught up again. I set up a temporary camp with my one-man tent and waited the night out. Nights in the back country are different than camping in other places.

In the back of your head, you recognize that you are completely alone for dozens of miles. You end up listening to the night differently. Everything you hear suddenly becomes important, because now you're just another part of the forest, vulnerable. At some point, I woke up from a dothouse. dream, I can't remember now, but I recall feeling unsettled. I poked my head out of the tent and crawled out to take a leak and look around for a minute. I didn't see anything, but it's hard to explain exactly how I felt. It was almost like I was being observed, but very lightly, as a part of

the background. It was kind of discerning, so I went back to sleep pretty quickly. Ariel Recon flew over the next morning and still found nothing. About midday, the team arrived to clear the landslide, and the other rangers and I began searching the back country. At the end of the second day, we found it. A chunk of the forest had completely burned down. It was tucked into a valley in the northeast, only a few hundred yards away from where I camped the first night. But I missed it then. It was maybe 200 yards across and 300 running down the mountainside.

You think this would be too large to escape notice, but it took us almost two days to find. It. Even then, the aerial team missed it altogether. This was a strange fire, too. It burned in an almost clean line down the mountain's ridge, forming a recognizable rhombus, and normally forest fires around here aren't intense enough to completely take out fully grown pine trees. But this fire had been hot. Everything was scorched, total mortality.

It almost seemed unnatural, but we couldn't find anything in the ashes to explain it. I wondered if I had missed something a few days after we left, but eventually, after talking to the veteran Rangers, I decided it was just one of those things that can't be explained. Apparently, it's not all that uncommon from what they've said. According to them, if you spend enough time in the wilderness, you start to see things seeing you. I didn't know what they meant by that,

but we didn't have time to talk more, and I haven't seen them much since. A week after that, I found a couple of idiots trying to, to start a cooking fire at one of the trailheads. I yelled at them probably harsher than I should have. They seemed to genuinely feel bad about it. Apparently they missed all of the signs. I decided to let it go and began to leave. But before I drove out, I saw the spark and catch of a fire in the rearview mirror. Infuriated, I drove back and got out. The campers were just as confused as me. The fire pit was completely cold. It looked the same just as I had

seen it, empty and unused, after making them clean out the twigs and leaves they tried to use. Confused, I walked around the entire trailhead, but didn't see any sign of a fire. I figured it was a trick of light in the rearview mirror and left. I convinced myself over the next couple months not to worry about the wildfire stuff, and nothing else out of the ordinary happened. Until a few days ago, I was on trail maintenance with another ranger, Lauren. She'd been working as a ranger for almost 10 years, so I generally followed her lead. We were about 15 miles into the back country, checking on some primitive campsites for campers.

We were currently at Campsite 3. There's 8 total, and they form a large U, over almost 90 miles surrounding one of the larger mountains in the region. It was getting into fall, so it was supposed to be empty while we worked our way through, checking up on site quality. All afternoon, I had been cutting out a new trail from the campsite, up to a spring that had changed course recently. The shadows were beginning to grow long, but I was close to finishing, so I kept cutting away. About a half hour later, I broke through and walked onto a boulder the ground slanted into, and watched the head of the spring just inside up the mountain. It looked like a deer path meandered its way up the springhead, so I started up.

When I got there, I almost threw up. The spring flowed clearly enough, but just to the right of it, a section of the ground turned into weathered stone. In the middle, a skin deer, with spatters and other pools of red scattered everywhere in the nearby vicinity. I've seen plenty of dead animals before, but this was messed up. Something had skinned a deer, and very cleanly, and I couldn't find any other signs of damage,

but its actual hide was nowhere to be seen. Flies were starting to circle the meat. It did not look like it had been there long. I quickly hiked back down the several hundred yards I cut out and found Lauren, who was back from working and making dinner. I paused to catch my breath and told her I had to show her something. She looked concerned, so we went back up to the spring. When we got there, the deer was gone,

and I couldn't find a drop of anything. I had been gone maybe an hour at most. It didn't seem possible. Lauren assumed I was just messing with her, so I played it off and tried to forget about it. But I haven't forgotten about it. And apparently, Lauren told my supervisor, Jonathan, he asked me to come back to the forestation,

so tomorrow I'm driving out of the back country. He sounded different, though, almost like he didn't really want to call me in. I guess I'll see how this goes, and update this when I can. Part 2. I don't think I should be alive. I met with my supervisor yesterday,

and at first, it seemed like it might be just a formality. He didn't say anything about the deer. We made small talk for a while, but finally, he broke the safety of our conversation by pausing and saying, You're probably wondering why I called you back a few days early this rotation. I nodded slowly, and he continued.

Well, we've all been really impressed by your performance, and I finally got approval from HQ, so congratulations. You passed your three-month performance review, and are now a permanent ranger with us. This caught me off guard, but I quickly masked my relief, and thanked him. We talked a bit more about the increased responsibility, and he gave me my next assignment with the team. I was feeling pretty good, shook his hand, and was on my way out. Before I shut the door behind me, he said, Before you leave, you mentioned you saw some oddly skin deer out there? Something scare you?

My face went pale, and I thought about telling him the truth, but I instead muttered something about it being a dumb joke. Jonathan nodded his head thoughtfully, and though he didn't look satisfied with my answer, he didn't press me. He just said, that would be an unusual thing to find, measuring each word out carefully while looking past me distantly.

That felt like the end of our conversation, so I shut the door behind me, walking away as quickly as I could without seeming weird. Something was off, and for some reason I got the feeling the whole meeting had been to ask me that last question. I should have driven out of the mountains and back home after that meeting, but something held me back. On the drive back into the mountains, I got caught up in the beauty of the right, rising slopes, twisting valleys, and graceful, swaying pine trees. My whole life, I've come to the mountains with problems and ideas I need to think over,

and they somehow make everything simple. In the shadow of the mountains, I've always been able to realize how small my worries are and find content. I briefly thought about driving home, but once I got a few miles in, I was never going back. I still had to do work here, and by the time I got my assignment location, I wasn't worried at all anymore. I had met up with the other rangers at the campsite. They'd set up near the trailhead

and found that they decided to celebrate my pseudo-promotion. At first, I didn't think I was in the mood to party, but the atmosphere was so nice. I only had a few beers, and a few hours later, I was pretty drunk. I got to talking with Ryan, another ranger who had been on the job about as long as Lauren, on the tailgate of his truck, away from the rest of the team.

We were overlooking the valley that ran for miles north, where we'd be working for the next few weeks. There's a lot of different types of rangers, but I've always found the quiet ones to have the best stories. Ryan was normally one of the quiet rangers, but he chose this time to open up to me. I'd been telling him about the Rombus fire from a few weeks ago, and he was nodding at different points in my story. When I mentioned I was walking off the trail and losing track of time, he looked alert. I laughed it off as a dumb mistake, but he took it seriously. I've heard of losing time like that before, but never so close to the forestation. I've always heard it happening deep in the forest, like a hundred plus miles out,

and you weren't that far. This seemed to discern him. He took a sip of his beer. There's more too. I've heard it goes way back, to Native Americans even, but they called it wandering. They say that the people who become a bit of the people who become a bit more. wanderers first wander through the woods from camp to camp never staying anywhere overnight preferring to keep to the caves and hollows throughout the pines they

eventually accomplish what they seek in a way becoming a part of the wild they adopt animalistic qualities and disappear from society reappearing here and there in stories and folktales separate from time he shook his head those are just old myths but I do believe there's something off about these woods, and I don't know. I wanted to bring up the deer, but I didn't quite know how to bring up the subject. Ryan ended up talking about something more interesting, so I kept listening. The thing with the fires is weird, though, he said. Don't let yourself be convinced it's not. Those backpackers said they saw multiple fires with people around them, so why would they lie

about something like that? Ryan had also been there while we searched through the ashes, and knew that it wasn't really resolved, though it was filed away as a natural wildfire. Whole thing sort of reminds me about this woman that went missing out here, maybe five, six years ago. Some backpacking trek turned around after 40 miles when one of their people got sick. Well, it wasn't until they returned to the trailhead that they realized they were missing one of their party. A young woman vanished at some point on the way back, and no one remembered seeing her leave, or when she disappeared, she was just gone. Somehow, no one noticed.

An SAR team came in to look for her, and even they admitted it was bizarre. We all wondered if foul play might be involved. How does someone disappear without being noticed over a 40-day return trek? He shrugged and said, We found her a few weeks later, and not where we expected to. Normally, these types of people show back up around the trailheads and primitive campsites along the trail after a while. Not this girl.

We found her way up in the mountains, above the tree line. And honestly, we probably never would have found her on our own. We were only out there looking for anything because someone reported a huge smoke column coming from up behind this peak. We went to check it out and didn't find any fires, but we did spot a bright red jacket, one exactly like the backpackers said she'd been wearing. He leaned in.

Over the next couple days, we brought more people. Another S-A-R team eventually found what was left of her. Closing his eyes, he paused for a moment. Someone had filleted her, as it looked like from the scratch marks, gouged around her. She was already rotting. She had been there a while. She wandered so far, too, almost 70 miles from the trail she had been missing on. Sometimes people go in the wrong direction, but 70 miles.

her group was shocked police investigated but it was obvious none of them had any part in it i sat speechless it couldn't be a coincidence the deer was not the first a family of owls began hooting down in the valley and we both listened for a moment that was a long time ago though i try not to think about it too often suddenly he looked nervous like he'd said too much anyways i'm pretty tired I'm going to catch some sleep. He patted my back and walked away. There was no way I was sleeping now, so I decided to walk down into the valley to clear my head.

It was late, but the moon was easily bright enough for me to follow the trail down. I walked maybe a half a mile before moving just off the trail to sit on a rock ledge that overlooked a high slope, watching the stars, the pine tree swaying gently in the wind. I began to relax. I sat there for a while and closed my eyes, trying to empty my mind, but very gradually, an unnerving feeling began to wash over me. It was very slight at first, like the sense of being observed I felt before the forest fire, but it grew stronger until I was almost certain that I was being watched by something intelligent.

I was still laying on the rock, scared to move and startle whatever this presence was. My science teacher in elementary school told my class about this when I was a young kid, but I never actually experienced the feeling myself. He told us about wild cats, apex predators, that stalk their prey so efficiently, you can't see them, but you instinctively know they're there. Your brain subconsciously observes very small details that, on their own, are meaningless, but together are unsettling, because they only mean one thing. Something is watching you, and you don't know what or why.

I remember thinking it was cool at the time, but now it was terrifying. I tried to remain calm while I thought about what to do, but I realized I only had one option. I stood up and started sprinting back to the trail towards the trailhead. As soon as I hit the trail, I heard a distant thumping of some sort of running gate behind me that sent me up the trail faster, adrenaline allowing me to ignore my lungs, which were beginning to burn. I glanced over my shoulder once and saw some sort of semi-humanoid-shaped figure running after me.

It looked like it had the skin of a deer, but it seemed to conform to a different contour than that of any animal I've ever seen. Its back was painfully twisted forward. Its skin ragged and pulled down to the hoofs, which it used to move unnaturally quick over the trail. I couldn't see its face in the moonlight, but I could see elegant antlers arching on bowels.

sides of its head. I ran harder and finally saw the campsite ahead. I burst into the clearing and crashed into someone in front of me. A high-pitched, breathless gasp, told me it was Lauren. I'm so sorry, I said, getting to my feet and giving her a hand. There's a... Her jaw dropped and she pushed past me to look down the trail into the valley. I followed her gaze and looked over my shoulder. A huge wall of fire cut the forest in half. The forest was burning. Part 3 Strange trails have appeared in the back country in areas that are supposed to be completely undeveloped.

I first noticed one a few days ago, following them when they cropped up here and there, only identifiable by the cleared vegetation and worn topsoil paths. But these aren't normal trails. They loop around, run uphill, and distort sense of direction by winding back and forth through these steep valley. I must have explored 20 plus miles of these trails over a couple of days, but at times I'd go back through an area and it would be different. At first, I thought it was just my memory failing, but then I started paying attention, curves and other points of interest shifted in certain ways.

They weren't completely different, just enough for me to notice. Yesterday, I swore a path had run on the other side of a stream I was going down. Then on my way back, I couldn't even remember which side it had been on to begin with. It was just to my right now. I'm scared to mention this, but I have to. Deer carcasses had become a normal sight out here. I see them almost daily. Sometimes they're days later, rotting away, but sometimes they disappear without any trace.

After several days of finding deer carcasses, I had enough and pulled out of the valley the trails were in and hiked back to the start of the back country. I'm not sure I even want to report these to HQ, but I've been on an extended solo trek, surveying and monitoring wildfire risk in the remote forest to the north. So I really could just say nothing, and I'd probably be the only person to ever find them before they become overgrown again.

However the trails got here, I haven't seen anyone around to maintain them. So soon enough, they'll be impassable, and slip back into the wilderness and fade away with time. To quickly address my last post, the forest we were going to work in had some sort of spontaneous combustion event that rapidly lit a huge fire across the valley. Our team quickly moved out above the tree line and called it in. Over the next few hours and into the late morning, aerial teams dropped fire suppressants and eventually contained it in the valley. We walked through

later that evening when just the smoldering ashes remained. This had also been an intense, total mortality fire. We never found the cause either. Beyond natural circumstances created the perfect conditions for a fire. I didn't mention anything to anyone about the thing I saw the night before, but I kept an eye out for any charred, disfigured bodies. The other Rangers and I were pretty shaken up after the whole ordeal, but our supervisor didn't seem to sympathize. He told us there'd been an unannounced control burn, and due to some critical error, we got sent out to the wrong place. This seemed totally out of the norm to me, but no one openly questioned him. He gave everyone the next day off, but when we returned, he split everyone up to separate

assignments across the forest. I ended up on a solo trek in the north. Other than the trails, it's been a quiet assignment. I wish I could talk to Ryan about the thing I saw, but I haven't gotten a chance. It almost seemed like he avoided me after the fire. The more I thought about it, I think whatever I saw out of the time. there was the dark tricking my eyes. It doesn't seem that unlikely that some deer got spooked when the fire went off and ran up the trail and I mistook it for something

else in the moonlight as I glanced over my shoulder. But I have become a little paranoid since seeing the deer thing. It validated my concerns from the first fire. Something is out here and I won't let it scare me away from being here. I'm just more careful, always carrying overnight gear Rations for a few days, plenty of water, and even a rifle. We're not really supposed to carry guns, but if I get crap for it, I'll just say it's for bears. Better to look foolhardy, then let them know what it's really for. I guess that brings me to the realization that I don't trust my supervisor at all.

I've got a strong gut feeling that something's up with him. I just don't know what yet. I'm not sure how much I trust the other rangers either. They seem to readily accept Jonathan's explanation about the fire that almost killed us. If there is some sort of cover-up or conspiracy going on, there's no one telling how high up it goes or who all is involved. Anyone could be in on it and have an incentive to keep quiet. I should also tell you,

I'm probably going to get pulled from my post in the north in the next couple of days, unless something changes. A young girl went missing yesterday in the southern part of the forest. They've kept it quiet so far, but if they don't find her soon, they're going to have to pull us all in to help look for her. Normally, they leave this kind of thing to search and rescue, but I heard from one of the rangers who works closely with Jonathan that some big people in administration aren't happy with another missing person, so we're getting looped into this too. Whatever is going on between the dead deer, bizarre fires, strange trails, and the missing girls, It all feels connected.

As much as I want to, I can't leave now. Whatever is going on, it's messed up, and I don't want to stop until I get to the bottom of it. I spent all last night downloading low-res satellite and topographic maps of the forest where the girl went missing, since I haven't worked there that much. Whatever people were even doing down there is beyond me. It's a mostly forested, mountainous region, with an incredibly rapid elevation increase of several thousand feet. And I spent a lot of time looking this up because I couldn't believe it. But the area this girl went missing in is also supposed to be mostly undeveloped. Besides an old mining outposts

that was forcibly closed in the 30s after environmental concerns. The Forest Service is normally pretty relaxed as far as conservation goes. But from the old news reports I've found, this place was responsible for killing off large amounts of game, polluting the entire watershed, and spreading horrible illnesses amongst the miners. The search effort isn't coming within miles of this place for whatever reason, but the nature of its closing makes me wonder if there's something more to it. Most of the old mines around here closed during the 60s, after it became apparent that there wasn't an abundant amount of gold in the mountains. None of these mines were particularly careful about conservation, and like I said, the Forest Service doesn't normally stick their

nose in, so how this one closed struck me as odd. Ryan's story about the Native American wanderers got me curious about other folklore from this area, but I haven't been able to find anything. States in the West, and really most federal nature preserves, do a pretty good job of documenting Native American culture and view it as a responsibility due to their tragic treatment. But I couldn't find much besides a list of a few tribes that may have passed through here in the initial land migration thousands of years ago. I dug a little deeper and stumbled across an old nature-themed internet forum, talking about weird stuff in the woods that mentioned strange tales. The poster was someone homesteading off cheap government land in the mountains, who

who discovered a huge system of trails. They were a little larger than deer paths, and let off the poster's property and through the forest for over 40 miles. These didn't sound like the trails I found, but they were similar enough to keep me interested. They specifically mentioned that these weren't documented in any map, so how could such an extensive system of trails remain undiscovered? I wanted to message the poster that the account was deleted years ago, and this was written back when the internet was all anonymous, so they made sure there weren't any

identifying details in the post that led back to them. The rest of the thread seemed like mostly speculation. One guy asked if there was a sizable deer population, claiming large herds break into smaller families that sometimes inadvertently create these types of trail systems. The original poster didn't think this was the case though, as they hadn't found any evidence of recent activity or a large deer population. Both of which would have been necessary for something this extensive. The same went for the trails I've found. Another user suggested that they stay as far away from these trails as possible,

saying they've seen the same thing and that their time holes. If you go in, the trails may twist beyond you, trapping you in, and no matter how far you wander off the trail, you'll end up back on the same trail. Eventually, a trail will open with a pathway out again, but you may come out at a different place in time, then you entered. I'm aware it's the internet, and there's no reason to take anything on here as truth, but this sounded eerily familiar, and the forest is just weird in that way.

Truth is often stranger than fiction out here. Stories around the campfire are usually based on some distant truth, sometimes more disturbing. I promise not to tell too many campfire stories. I'm sure you've heard enough, but this one. This one is my personal favorite, and my biggest fear. It goes something like this. You're backpacking in the mountains one day, which are notorious for unpredictable weather. High-speed winds, storms, sleet, and rain can form around the peaks without any warning.

All backpackers know this if they're even remotely experienced, so everyone always carries gear and equipment to safely survive any type of weather you might experience. This isn't such a big deal on a day hike, but if you're going on a multiple day trek, it's essential. Today, you're backpacking on a familiar trail off the main path through the backcountry winding up the crest of the mountain. You didn't see it marked on the map anywhere, but you were curious, and it didn't look too intensive, so you decide to check it out for a few miles.

After a while, you spot another backpacker in the distance. He's by himself, coming down the mountain towards you while you're hiking. up. Nothing is alarming at first, but then he gets closer. He's wearing a white hat and a green rain jacket and rain pants covering black hiking boots. You wave at him when he's about a hundred yards away, but he doesn't seem to notice. He gets closer and you realize that other than his clothes, he has no gear at all, no backpack or even a water bottle. He walks by you with his head down, not saying anything, and speeds up once he passes you. almost trotting down the mountain.

You briefly wonder if he's camped out somewhere, but you don't remember seeing a tent or supplies anywhere. You walk another mile, thinking his camp must be somewhere up ahead, but you find nothing. Then movement catches your eye, and you spot him crossing over the hill in front of you, coming down ahead of you again. Suddenly, everything about him feels wrong, and you take off down the trail back to the main path. You see him again an hour later, but this time, halfway up the steep valley the trail crosses the top of.

He's struggling to climb the rocky mountain side. You hear him loudly moaning, incoherent noises filling the valley, and you call out to him, but he stops making noise and goes quiet. Unnerved, you get back to the path and hike the rest of the trek faster than ever before, sleeping very little. You don't see him again. When you get back to civilization a few days later, You talk to local rangers about what you saw and the unmarked trail,

but they have no record of any trail ever existing there, or anyone else who registered to hike in that particular backcountry trek, though it was a self-registration system. They tell you they'll send someone to check in on it, but you never hear back from them, and that's fine with you. That's pretty much it. There's a lot of variations of the story. Everyone who's been in the wilderness is afraid of meeting the impossible man,

He shouldn't be there, but he is. The forest is overflowing with stories like that. Practically half the time rangers spend socializing. We just tell each other's stories. In many cases outside the forest, I'd be inclined to say that word of mouth is unreliable, but spend some considerable time in the woods, and being alone will change your mind.

People's experiences and gut feelings are different in nature. You trust stories, because the farther you get into the mountains and the forest, the less relevant time and truth become. What exists out there just is, and what you think should, or what is supposed to, doesn't pertain to the reality. Some of us like stories with conclusive endings, but I've always preferred the more ambiguous ones. However, somehow they feel more plausible, especially lately. I can't make sense of anything. Put back to what I do know, there are. There are unusual things going on in the forest and they're tied together.

Hopefully, this girl shows up alive soon, but I somehow doubt it. Once I get reassigned down there, I'm going to see if I can sneak away and check out the old mining outposts. It seems like a good start. If you don't receive another update, assume the worst, and stay away from the strange trails in the forest. I was home alone one day and started really getting an itch to go out and take a walk. I live in Southern California, and we have some really beautiful forests down here.

I grabbed a flashlight, my phone, and my wallet, and set out. The night was absolutely beautiful. There was a full moon in the sky, and the forest fauna was in full gear. The sound of crickets was almost deafening. I took my usual route into the forest. It's a nice path that branches off onto a game trail. It's not uncommon to see anything from deer to cougars out there. doing their thing. I had been walking for about half an hour when I stopped because something felt wrong. It's hard to put specifically, but I just felt this cold dread begin to run down my spine. That's when I heard it, or, more specifically, didn't. The forest had gone, completely silent. I took a few experimental steps, but the feeling of dread was increasing with every step.

The silence was almost deafening. Thinking there might be a cougar around, I walked over to a tree and crouched down, while listening intently. At first, I couldn't hear much around me, but then a sound came from the darkness, the snap of a branch being stepped on. In this silence around me,

the sound was like a gunshot. I jumped and looked towards the noise. When I saw what was making the sound, my heart about stopped. What stood there, about 30 yards away, was a huge deer. It had a rack full of antlers, but there was something wrong with it. It looked wrong, malformed. It was far skinnier than it should have been, and it had a strange gait.

It walked carefully, but only moved one leg at a time. As it turned away from me, I saw that it had no tail. As much as I was trying to stay silent, a small gasp escaped my lips. The deer's head went up, and it turned, and looked at me. It didn't turn its body like a deer would have done, just its head, like a person would. Its head was all wrong, too. Its eyes were facing forward like a person's wood, and the skin on its face looked worn and saggy, like it was wearing a mask.

It opened its lips in a snarl, and that's when I saw that it had a mouthful of pointed teeth, like a canine. it took a few steps towards me. I tried to move, but found myself paralyzed. As much as I wanted to run, I couldn't. Then, it stood up. It went from being on all fours to standing on its hind feet, and that's when I noticed, its hands were tipped with large claws instead of hooves.

It started to run at me. While it screamed this horrific sound, it was like a cross between a baby's cry and a cougar's scream, With the scream, I found myself able to move again. I got up and took off as fast as I could down the game trail. As I was starting to run, I heard it scream again and changed direction to pursue me. I was running as fast as I could, my breaths coming in as ragged gasps, all the while hearing its loud footsteps hitting the ground behind me.

As fast as I was going, I could hear it gaining on me. I kept going and going, but just could. couldn't outrun it. As it was almost upon me, I heard it grunt slightly and felt an impact on my back, followed by a searing pain. It had struck me and laid my back open. I stumbled slightly, but regained my balance and kept running as hard as I could manage, my breathing still ragged. Again I heard it scream, but could no longer hear it pursuing me. Not having it pursue me, didn't slow me any, and I could see my house from here, so I kept going. It only took me a few seconds to get to my house and I ran up to the door.

Fumbling with the keys, I managed to unlock the door and get inside. I frantically went through all of the doors and windows of the house, making sure everything was locked. I went to the bathroom, took off my shirt, and looked at my back in the mirror. I had four large gashes in my back, going from the left shoulder to the right, having cut my bra strap in the process, and they were all bleeding profusely. I decided to go to the hospital, so I grabbed my keys and went to the front door. When I opened it, I saw the creature at the foot of my driveway. It started to charge me, so I slammed the door shut, locked it, and backed away. The creature started pounding at my door for a few seconds, before there was silence.

Then I heard the door knob being rattled as the creature tried to open the door. From outside, I heard a terrifying voice. Let me in Alicia, I want to see you. The voice was high-pitched and had a strange note to it, like it was being played through a radio or an old speaker. Let me in, Alicia, let me in, let me in. The pounding started on the door again, and I screamed. The pounding stopped after a few seconds,

and I heard the creature walk off the porch and onto the grass. I stood in shock and silence for a while, before I heard the back door begin to rattle at the rear of the house. That was when I made my move. I opened the door quietly, shut it behind me, locked it and bolted to the car. I unlocked the car, which emitted a loud beep, and I heard the creature begin to race around the house to get to me. I get into the car and peeled back onto the road.

The creature burst from the side of the house and bee-lined for the car. Just as I was taking off, it reached me and slashed at the car with its claws. I heard the sound of screeching metal and glass as it scraped the side of my car, and I hit the gas and floored it. I breathed a sigh of relief and sped down the road, but I heard a bang and saw the creature keeping pace while trying to open the back door of my car. I sped up to 40 miles per hour before I started to outrun the creature and it stopped chasing me.

One last time, I heard it scream and then make its way back into the woods. I drove to the hospital and they treated my wounds. I got back to my home the next day and saw no sign of it. I wasn't taking any chances, though, and moved out a week later. Here in central Michigan, almost everyone hunts, whether it's deer, rabbit, squirrel, turkey, or quail. We all hunt, so it's pretty common while I'm hunting on state land to run into a few other hunters. Normally, it's just frustrating. You pick your spot, settle in quietly for an hour, only to have some idiot go wandering 20 yards in front of your tree stand right at primetime.

This evening was one of those times when my hunt was interrupted, only instead of getting angry at first, I was concerned, followed quickly by being terrified out of my mind. I got out to my stand around 4.30 p.m. got all settled in, sat freezing for the next hour and a half, just watching the snow come down, It was starting to get dark pretty quickly. When to my left, I heard the sound every hunter loves hearing. Footsteps. My heart immediately started to pump faster as my adrenaline started to kick in. Very slowly, I turned my head to the left, so I wouldn't alert the animal coming in that I was waiting 20 feet up in a tree.

Instead of seeing a deer walking up, though, it was a man. Instantly my adrenaline turned into anger, as yet again, my hunt was ruined. I stared him down, hoping he would back up and notice me in the tree, then turn around and go back the way he came. That way there'd be a slight chance I could still see some deer. Once he got about 20 feet away from my stand, I noticed something was off about him. His body was completely stiff, his arms glued to his side, and he stared straight forward with a stone expression on his face.

His legs, however, were taking these huge, high-knee steps, like he was sort of marching or exercising. I was a little creeped out at his odd behavior, but not really scared yet. After a few seconds of watching him, I figured he was some idiot intentionally ruining my hunt. I was just about to shout out to the weirdo and ask what he was doing

when a twig snapped a little ways off to my right. The guy froze, and his head snapped in the direction of where the noise came from. He stared for a few seconds, then out of nowhere, took off running, impossibly fast, to whatever had caused the twig to snap. I stared surprised at how fast this thing was running. I kid you not, he had been running well over 30 miles per hour, as he closed 60 to 70 yards in about four seconds. As he got to a tree, he scaled that tree faster than a squirrel could.

My heart was hammering so loud at this point. I actually feared he would hear it and come for me next. The sounds of an animal screeching, as it was being torn about, rang through the woods. Whatever it was, he caught it, and was, what I'm guessing, eating it alive. After a couple seconds of screeching, the woods fell completely silent, other than my frantic breathing. I closed my eyes and took three deep, slow breaths to settle my nerves. When I opened my eyes back up, my heart took another leap, as the guy was standing 20 feet away, looking down in the snow at something. My footprints in the snow. Oh, please no, I thought to myself.

I'm not ashamed to admit I was in tears at this point. I was so afraid. I slowly reached to my side and put my hand on my pistol I always carried with me in case it came down to it. I watched in terror, as he slowly followed my footsteps. He crept along until he stood directly under my tree. Then he slowly lifted his head up until he looked directly at me. We stared at each other for a good couple of seconds until he put his hand on the ladder leading to my stand, getting ready to climb up. I was completely paralyzed in fear as I watched him slowly pull himself up the first step. Then, by the grace of God, I heard a voice somewhere in the distance.

The creepy guy heard it too, and he hopped back down onto the ground. Jim, I got one. I heard the guy in the distance shout to someone, probably his buddy. The guy under my stand took off running as fast as before, towards the other hunter's voice. I saw my only chance to get out of there, so I undid my harness in record time, and practically jumped out of the tree and started running back to my truck. Thankfully, I wasn't too far in, and soon soon as I was. made it over the small hill. I looked back to see if he was chasing me, but I was in the clear.

I got to my truck and threw my bow in and jumped in, starting it and pulling away as fast as I could. With snow, I wasn't able to drive as quickly as I wanted, but after an intense 10 minutes, I was back on the main road. I don't know what that was, but I know one thing. I'm not hunting in state land ever again. uncle told me of a story about how he had seen skin walkers by shiprock, New Mexico. My uncle was a long-haul truck driver. He was coming back from Colorado and had pulled over by the shiprock to stretch his legs and let his dog pee. We are Navajo, so he knew better than to be walking around after sundown. But he was always mischievous and curious. His dog Moose got out

and peed right away and wanted right back in the truck. No matter what my my uncle did, he couldn't convince Moose to take a walk with him, even though they'd been in the truck for over ten hours. So, my uncle takes a walk toward the actual shiprock, and it's almost sundown. He continues to climb the rock. See, his friend told him a story about a secret cave up on top, and he wanted to see if it was true. He continued to climb and circle the mountain. Soon he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He felt wrong in the pit of his stomach, but he had to see what was going on up there. Soon he began to feel a weird vibration in his feet,

but before he could process what was happening, he heard chanting. He began to climb again. The higher he went, the louder the chance got. It was almost as if they were calling to him. Soon he began to see a glow on the rocks. The closer he got, the more he could see the fire dancing against the rock walls. He carefully slid up a rock, he was shocked to see four men dancing in animal skins.

They circled the fire, always dancing, always chanting. Soon they began to change right before my uncle's eyes. My uncle was hidden low, but unable to move. The men's legs began to change as they danced. They were throwing some sort of herb into the fire and danced round and round. My uncle watched as their hands began to turn into paws, but they still danced. Soon their faces began to morph and blur. My uncle felt his sickness take place in his chest and stomach.

But what could he do now? He had to stay hidden. Their coyote faces still chanting, and their long coyote legs still danced. Soon their melodic chanting turned into howling, they danced with two legs. The night was dark. There was no moon,

no light except the light that came from the fire. My uncle wanted to run, but he knew if he ran it would be sure death. While he was thinking, all of the sudden the skin walkers took off in a blink of an eye. They ran down the mountain as if it was nothing. My uncle watched as they all went in different directions. He knew this was his only chance to escape. He tore down the mountain like he had a rocket strapped to his back.

He finally made it to his truck. His hair was still standing on his arms. He jumped up to open the door and there by the handle. was a giant coyote print. It was red. He dared not to touch it. He opened up the door and started up his truck and got out of there as fast as he could.

He started to head towards Gallup, New Mexico. He was doing 70 down the highway, trying to get as far away as he could. When he looked out his passenger side window, he saw a giant coyote keeping pace with him. My uncle said it was almost like it smiled at him. It then ran off into the desert, and he never saw it again.

He got the courage to go back up the mountain in the daytime a couple years later. He couldn't find the cave, and there was no evidence anything had ever happened there. He was sure some sort of bad medicine made it possible for them to do what they did. He also told me that he was wearing his cedarberry necklace my grandma had made him. It had shielded and protected him. He died about a decade later, having bad luck the rest of his life. respect the old ways Don't be going out at night

looking for evil Because it just might find you This experience happened to me a long time ago And I forgot about it for the most part But one day I was watching a video About different old beliefs and things And somewhere they mentioned skinwalkers And about how somebody saw their friend

With dead eyes or a loved one's voice But I'm not sure if this thing qualified When I was in the fifth grade, I went camping with my cousins, uncle, aunt, and her boyfriend. I remember this day specifically, because it was the first time I ever went camping. We stayed at a lake in upstate New York. I'm not sure exactly where in upstate New York, but I can ask my aunt if she remembers. Because of how long ago this is, I can only faintly remember some details. When we first got there, the first thing I did was sit in the car.

and text my mom I was safe. Unbeknownst to me, that was a lie. It was evening, so we decided to unpack some things. There was a wooden platform for tents, and we set up our tents surprisingly easily. Quickly, the day turned to night, so we ate some sandwiches that were pre-packed, and my uncle tried to teach us how to make a campfire.

After making a circle of stones, putting wood and sticks in the form that he told us to, and ripping pieces of paper and tissue, up, lighting the fire came next. Given my experience with matches, it only took me a few tries to light up the first paper, but marshmallows quickly came after. We were all getting tired, so we stopped feeding the fire until it got low enough to put it out with water and feet. After this, I sat in the car again and texted my mom I was going to sleep. My mother was very overprotective, and this was necessary for her to sleep soundly back in my apartment.

I didn't own a sleeping bag, so I wrapped myself in a quilt and shared the tent with one of my cousins. The other slept with her dad in the bigger tent, three tents total. My cousin, who was staying in the tent with me, let's call her Jess, told me to put my shoes right next to hers, so I did. She fell asleep quicker than I did, but eventually we both fell asleep. My aunt is big on no technology, so we had to leave our phones in the car. I woke up to Jess calling me from outside the tent. When I looked over, all I saw was a lump of quilt and a pillow. So I walked out of the tent to see her walking towards the woods.

It was very, very dark. Normally, in the city, there's no stars because of light pollution. Upstate, however, the stars were beautiful. She said, come look at the stars. And I, of course, followed her into the woods. But every time I walked to her, she walked farther away. away from me. She kept repeating over and over again. Isn't this so much prettier than the city? And walking away farther and farther. At this point, I started to get worried we would get lost,

and she was still a good 10 to 15 feet away from me as she spoke. I told her, we might get lost. Why don't we stick together or turn back soon? At this point, she started to sound a little angry. No, just follow me. We're almost there. She started to sound a little fishy, so I asked, where exactly are we going? Her voice became almost robotically angry. Why don't you just trust me? It sounded like something my mom would say whenever I would ask something too many times. Almost like she could read my mind. She started walking more, expecting me to follow her. I did for a few steps, but the more I tried to trust her, the more we were. worried I got. Here was the first why question. Why are we even doing this? I said. And there was no

response, except for a grunt of some sort, like an annoyed grunt. Jess? And that's when I knew something was wrong. Because I said so, she said. But it sounded like my mother, exactly like my mother, so extremely like my mother that for a millisecond I was relieved. But then I remembered my mother was not with us on this camping trip. Mom? I said, confused and scared now. I started backing away

and that thing started coming closer. Hello? Who are you? I said. Starting to back away. You know me, it said.

It was switching between my mother and my cousin as I backed away. I have the worst sense of direction so at this point I had forgotten which way was back but I ran I ran in the opposite direction of the thing.

I've never been an exceptional runner. In track, I always finished last. I never liked running, but here, I felt I was running faster than the fastest runner I knew. Nonetheless, I kept running. I heard a faint. Come back. Wait. Behind me.

But I didn't hesitate. I was like a scared dog. Eyes ahead, full speed. The run back felt a lot longer than the walk to wherever we were. we were, but soon I saw some trees that I pulled dried leaves and sticks from earlier. I ran so fast to my tent and looked behind me. There was what either looked like two yellow eyes or a tiny car's headlights is the best I could describe it. It seemed to be standing still, though. Almost tripping on the wooden platform, I went straight back into the tent and kicked off my

shoes faster than ever before. When I looked back at what I previously mistook to be a lump of quilt, Jess was sleeping there the entire time. I was breathing extremely heavy, but I laid down closer to Jess than before, shivering. I remembered we were told strictly to not go outside our tents during the night, so I didn't tell her about what happened to avoid getting into trouble. Multiple times during the night I heard different noises. At one point, I heard our car driving away, and even faintly, running somewhere in the distance. I chose not to pay attention to those noises, though.

In the morning, I was the last one to wake up. I woke up not thinking about the night prior, but thinking it was a nightmare or something. When I walked outside the tenth, though, my cousin's flashlight was on the floor, near where I had entered the woods. Also, my thrown shoes were not next to my cousins, but where I threw them.

I can't think of other proof that this wasn't a nightmare, but there was a dead squirrel near the car for some reason. Besides the horrible adventure that had happened throughout the night, the day went on as normal. I heard no noises or voices, but I did ask my cousin if she got up during the night. She said no, but I did wake her up a bit when I moved a bit close to her. She tried to forget about what happened, and soon my thoughts were mostly about the lake we were swimming in. There was nothing sketchy about the lake. It was meant to be swam in, with beaches and lifeguards.

After the beach, we got ice cream, ate at the picnic bench, and my other cousin taught me how to play a card game. Another strange thing, though, my phone mysteriously disappeared during the night. It was not in the car when I checked, and it wasn't in the trunk after we pulled everything out. I was in fifth grade, though, and it was just a small free phone my mother gave me to contact her. She wasn't too upset about the loss of this phone. After arriving back to the city, I didn't tell anybody about the experience until school started again. I told a friend or two in my class, but it wasn't mentioned again. The surreal, horrific experience was truly scary.

My wife and I decided to go camping this past weekend. It was the first time we both had time off together in months and wanted to spend it unplugged from the rest of the world. Just the two of us. We chose a scenic spot in the North Georgia Mound. about a two and a half hour drive from where we live in Atlanta. It wasn't too far out, but we'd heard from friends that once you get up into those hills, you feel completely isolated from the modern world. We both have been camping before, but it had been a while.

I was in Boy Scouts, but I wouldn't call myself a natural in the wilderness. Despite our lack of survival skills, we ended up booking one of the park's backcountry sites. For those that may not know, that means you're more safe. that means you're more separated from the rest of the campers. There is no electricity or water, and you have to hike a fair bit to get there. You feel like you're really on your own that way. Our site in particular was very wooded and felt particularly isolating,

in a good way. Or at least, that's what we thought at first. We got there early in the day, because we wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to unpack and set up camp. We also wanted to get in some good hiking, while there was plenty of daylight out. After several hours of hiking, we got back to our campsite around 7 p.m.

It was really starting to get dark at this point, so we lit a campfire and made dinner. This is all sounding pretty normal, right? You're probably thinking. This is a pretty basic camping trip. Why did this guy post this here? Well, it wasn't until we turned in for the night that things started getting weird.

It wasn't late when we went to bed, mainly because we were exhausted from the day, but also had an early start planned for the next. After a few uncomfortable hours trying to sleep in a small tent, not designed for my 6-foot-3 frame, and my wife huddled next to me, I was awoken around 1 or 2 a.m. I don't know for sure because I was honestly too scared to check my phone for the time. There was a weird, sudden noise outside the tent. At first, I sort of just rode it off as just some random animal running through the sight, The initial high-pitched sound was far enough that I felt like I didn't need to worry.

But then I noticed the sounds weren't leaving, and they weren't getting farther away. Suddenly, startling squeals interrupted by the sound of leaves being trampled, like something was running between our stuff, broke the sharp silence of the woods. So, at this point, I'm pretty awake. I laid there still, wanting to make sure that whatever it was didn't get into any of our stuff, but also worried just enough to not dare reach for the zipper on our tent door. I started listening more closely and began to notice different variations in sounds. Like all of the sudden, all the movement would stop.

I could hear light, slow sniffing, like it was trying to memorize our scent. I was getting used to the faint sniffing sound, only to be surprised by the sound of rushing, determined footsteps barreling toward the tent. They stopped just short of the spot where the top. Top of my head grazed the tent wall. It started to sniff again. I could now feel something, its nose, probably, pressing against the thin wall. Now that it was closer, I could sort of make out its size, about that of a large dog,

like a German shepherd, maybe bigger. Maybe someone's dog got out and was running between campsites. Hard to tell while you're holding your breath and keeping one eyes shut. When the sniffing stopped, I heard feet shuffled back quickly away from the tent, as if it had gotten a whiff of something it didn't like, possibly me. That's when it started growling. The growl is sort of hard to explain. It wasn't a dog, that's for sure. The best way I can describe it is like a cat who is pissed off, but much lower pitch.

Too low, maybe for a cat, almost like a guttural sounds of a wild hog. But even that wasn't quite right. Over and over it growled at me. It felt like forever. Now my mind was racing. I didn't know what to do. Should I try and scare it? Make lots of noise?

Maybe there's something in my tent I can grab and use as a weapon. I thought about everything within reach. My flashlight was within my finger's length and my backpack against the wall by my feet. I knew I had a pocket knife in there, but I didn't think I'd be able to get it without making a lot of noise, probably too much noise. The next few moments I think I will remember for the rest of my life.

The creature started moving again, only this time, slowly. It circled the tent like a lion stalking its prey, stopping every once in a while to get a sniff here and there. I think it was getting its bearings, you know, trying to figure out where the smell was strongest. It made a full circle right back to where my head was pressed up against the wall. The growling sounded even more. irritated, even more guttural. I knew my wife was awake now. I feel her hand working down my

arm before wrapping her finger around my wrist in a death grip. It was then I realized the creature outside was now pressing against the wall. I could make out a shallow hole and points through the thin fabric. Teeth? Lots of them. It began to lick the tent wall, grazing its teeth on the fabric, like it just wanted a taste. The next thing that happened is the real reason I had to had to post here. After what felt like forever, the creature stopped. It stopped growling, stopped moving. For all I knew, it was just standing there outside the tent, thinking about its next move. I braced for something. I wasn't sure what, but I just continued lying there, waiting. Was it about to pounce? Was it done? As the seconds ticked on, my fear dissolved into

anger. I was sick of lying there, simply wanting for something to happen to us. In a moment of dumb bravery, I grabbed my light and my backpack, thinking maybe I could use it as a shield and ripped open the tent door. I stepped out and waved my light around the campsite. I saw nothing, not even a rustling of leaves in the distance. As if something was running away, I suddenly felt stupid. It had to have been some random animal I tricked myself into thinking was some sort of of wilderness monster rearing to eat me and my wife. I took one last look between the trees before turning around to get back in my tent. That's when I saw it, right outside, right where my head had been resting against the wall,

were footprints, unmistakably human. The outdoors isn't something I would consider myself acquainted with, the potent air from the moist soil, the nonstop chirps of life in every nook and cranny, and the ambiguous emptiness I feel when I'm among the trees are things that do not suit my daily life, nor my personality. Exchange the damp soil, chirping life, and emptiness for the smell of carbon exhaust from a passing bus, the sound of commuters whistling through their morning walk,

and the clear, overcrowded sight of a city street, and there you have my paradise. Growing up in the city injects thrill into every aspect of daily life, danger, adventure, and plain adrenaline can lurk around every city block. The natural world simply cannot produce that same aspect of thrill in life. Not enough happens, not enough lurks in the corners of the thickets. That being said, I try staying away from nature as much as possible, remaining in the shadows of skyscrapers rather than the shadows of oak.

However, being 17 and living with my recently retired, high-ranked naval father, who has more than enough experience and memories with the woods. My paradise couldn't be present at all times. This realization dawned on me when my father approached me to tell me we were spending a week in the cabin in the North Woods. Are you serious? My emotionally accurate thought was interrupted

when my dad handed me an oversized suitcase to toss in the back of the car. You might want to grab a pillow for the ride. We have a long way to go. He said, smirking. This must be punishment for how late I'd came home from Stephanie's house last week. I thought to myself. Little did my father know, my tardiness was due to the curious nature I was born with.

I was simply walking around the dark streets exploring. Albeit, that may have been a rather dangerous and unintelligent venture, but no less filled with entertainment for myself. Punishment fits the not-so-crime-adjacent action, I guess. Nonetheless, we piled into the car, and set off north. The drive was seemingly endless. After about seven hours, there was nothing but dense forests surrounding us.

It wasn't long before we spent the rest of the drive on gravel road, tossing and shaking in the car in such a way that no fishermen would be able to resist motion sickness. Upon arrival, the sight of a very underkept, not so sturdy-looking log cabin lay before us. Best home we could ask for out in these parts, huh, bud? my father said in a slightly teasing tone, Oh, you bet, I'm thinking it took a fortune to build her, I said rolling my eyes in resentment. After quickly unpacking the car and moving into our temporary home,

my dad suggested we take a walk in the sea of surrounding pine and oak, with nothing to do other than staring at some truly, talentless art hanging from the cabin walls. I accepted his request willingly, but not happily. As we plummeted into an answer, endless abyss of trees, my comfort hastily left my being. Gone were the skyscrapers, the commuters whistling on their way to work, and the crowded, comforting city streets, only replaced with thick bark and oddly silence. There was no chirping, no singing of any life around us. In addition,

I never truly felt empty or alone amongst the trees. Yes, my father was beside me, but there seemed to be something else present in the air. I couldn't quite put words to it. I pushed that to the far reaches of my mind. As we continued, I began to hear strange sounds from around us. They reminded me of the whistling commuters I encountered every day, but something was off. What is that? I asked my dad. That is just the wind in the trees, the leaves rustling and the wood creaking. Almost sounds alive, doesn't it? He said. Ah, sure, I said, trying to push back the paranoid feeling growing inside me. Our walk was short, only about an hour.

I tried not to think about the sinister feeling I received from the trees, but every now and again, it would tiptoe into my conscious mind. I sat lying beside the fire in the dusty family room, when my dad approached me saying he had to run into town to grab a few things. How long will you be? I asked. Oh, about a few hours or so. Unfortunately, the nearest town is about 50 miles from here, he said, sighing. And with that, he drove off to who knows whatever town would be in this barren wasteland.

I sat watching the dancing flames of the family room fire for several minutes before boredom, pulsed through every vein in my body. For some reason, my natural curiosity pushed into my mind and triggered my exploratory being. Why not go for a little midnight stroll? As I stepped down the stairs of the rear patio, I noticed that the forest was filled with the sounds of crickets, frogs, and basically anything that dwells in the mud. This was a pleasant surprise,

but the empty, lonely aura surrounding me was not. What? You're going to be lonely no matter what until Dad gets back. Might as well explore. And with that thought, I set off for a little moonlight adventure. I never noticed how beautiful the natural world was, honestly. Everything was just so primal. The chirps of the crickets, the croaks of the frogs,

the light of the fireflies briefly illuminating the area, and the wind in the trees. Wait, where was the whistling noise that accompanied the breeze earlier today? As if whatever higher power was out there was playing a sick joke on me, the orchestra of nature ceased. There was nothing, nothing but silence. Even the wind came to a halt, causing the leaves of the tree to sit motionless,

hanging from their branches as if they were in the gallows. The only thing that remained were the fireflies, still blessing their surroundings with short bursts of light from their posterior. With the retreat of the sounds from the natural world came the approach of something more sinister, the approach of being accompanied by things that I simply could not lay my eyes on. As that feeling coursed through my body,

the familiar sound of whistling filled my ears. I didn't know whether to act on my fight or flight instinct, so I merely stood still, waiting. The whistling grew louder and louder, coming from all directions, as it felt as if something was whistling directly into my ear. The fireflies shined on something. It was only for a second or two,

but I could have sworn it was a person, Relief filled my body as I felt more safe with another person being around, but that ignorant feeling quickly faded. What would another person be doing so far out here, and why would they be following me? That thought died as soon as the fireflies illuminated once more. It was not a person. Whatever was standing a few feet away from me, in the shadows, didn't look like something God would have created.

It had the figure of a humanoid being, but its limbs were elongated. and bent at unnatural angles. Atop its disfigured, human-like body was a round head that housed two sunken, pale eyes, and a gaping maw filled with needle-pointed teeth. However, that was the only one that stood directly before me. There were others. I couldn't see them fully, but their awful silhouettes

sickened me to the point where I desired no further physical details of their appearance. Still frozen, in some sort of shock, the closest being crept closer, and closer. As it got a few inches away from my body, it let out a loud, familiar whistle through its open, grinning mouth. As if some sort of electrical shock pulsed through my body, I suddenly threw myself into an all-out sprint towards the cabin, with the whistlers in close proximity. I hadn't realized how far I walked out into these woods, but the approximately

15-minute sprint gave me an idea. As the cabin lights filled my vision, I looked back to see my pursuers were about 50 feet behind me, and there were too many of them to count. They ran in such unnatural ways that the mere sight of it made me nauseous. I practically broke down the back door of the cabin. After bursting through, I managed to close the door and lock it behind me. I quickly did so with each door and window throughout the cabin, then barricaded myself in the upstairs closet, waiting for my dad to get home, and hopefully get me out of this hell he put me into. All I could do is sit, and try to keep quiet. I heard thumps and scratches coming from the ceiling,

most likely from those things crawling on the roof. The whistling never stopped. It was a constant reminder of the creature's presence. I sat in fear for what felt like an eternity until the whistlers erupted into what sounded like crackling, maybe laughter. Shortly after they began their unnatural course of laughter, silence tore through the place,

leaving a stale, sinister sense in my ears. Maybe it's safe to come out. Maybe they got bored or just simply couldn't get into the house. As I was about to open the closet door, a familiar sound echoed from the back of my closet. I wasn't in the city, so that whistling wasn't coming from a commuter. For starters, we both work at a hospital and work until 1 a.m.

This all happened about two weeks ago. We worked a 12-hour shift due to our departments being slightly understaffed for the night. for the night. We're leaving the hospital around 4 in the morning. We usually take the highway, but the on-ramp was closed due to an accident. So, we decided to just take the normal roads home. It was going well for the first 30 minutes until we get to the part of the trip where the once touching residential houses became nothing but woods. The speed limit was 25 because it was still residential. There was probably one house every two miles. My girlfriend and I were talking about new music and having a nice time.

When I got this awful feeling, I'm being watched. I looked into the back seat, feeling like I would 100% see a person sitting back there. I start observing the tree line to my right and see nothing. Then it happens. We slam into a deer running on the left side of the road from the woods. My girlfriend screams and I start looking around to see what just happened. I see the back legs of a deer stumble away before getting distracted by my girlfriend, shaking me, asking me what just happened.

I told her, you just hit a deer, and was forced outside to see the damage on her car because she was too afraid to leave. I open the door and go into the front of the car to look at the grill. I can't see anything due to her headlights still being on. I flick my wrist to signal her to shut off the headlights. I turn my phone light on and turn my head to where the deer ran off to. My girlfriend turns off the headlights, and perfectly where I was looking, I see a set of glowing eyes in the tree line.

Standing at the height a deer's eyes would be. I look away to see if there's any damage. We were only going 25, so it was just a small piece of the grill, was broken off. I give her the thumbs up and start walking back to the passenger door. I grabbed the handle and decide to give you. the deer one last look and see the same set of glowing eyes, but now standing about six feet. My heart sinks deep and I get into the car. I tell my girlfriend there was minimal damage and to just drive. She kept asking questions and I wasn't ready to tell my girlfriend who gets extremely

scared very easily that I saw the deer we hit standing and watching us. She asks how the deer was and I said, You were going slow and lightly tapped it. I saw it walk off and it was fine. I also worked in that there wasn't any blood on the ground or on the car. She finally takes off and I feel 100% safer. Something tells me to look back using the side mirror. I glance into the mirror and slide down into my seat so I could see the deer.

It was no longer standing in the tree line, but in the middle of the road. I see it in her back light. and I could see that it's not a deer. In the red glow, I saw a very tall man in very little or worn clothing. My heart must have skipped a beat. It was just staring with its piercing yellow eyes, looking at me. I didn't say a word to my girlfriend the whole way home, and haven't since. We drove in silence for about 30 minutes or so until we got home. Then she starts saying how lucky we were. I was asking her why she said that, thinking she would know what I just saw. She says it could have rolled up on the hood and into the windshield.

I breathe a sigh of relief. We get out and start looking at the car. The grill had more damage than I remember seeing, but it wasn't too bad. I apparently miss seeing a thick branch in the grill. My girlfriend takes it out and throws it on the ground like it's nothing, but I'm thinking to myself, Why would a deer have a stick on them? Or how would they, is the better question.

We go inside and start making dinner. The image of that thing's eyes are burned into my every thought. I try to stay focused, but can't. I excuse myself to the restroom and take out my phone. I start looking up its features and compared what happened to me to other people's stories. I had a hunch it was a skinwalker, but being an avid scary story, reader. I never assumed they're true until that night. I let it go, and thankfully my girlfriend and I were left unharmed and got home safely. I'm still thinking about it today, and feel so unsettled.

First, some backstory. I live in a part of New Jersey, most people don't even know exist. It's in the northwestern corner of the state, right in the Appalachian Mountains. I live in an extremely secluded area, and my town is surprisingly large. Not only does the Appalachian Trail run straight through town, but there's a large park that has been built over Native American burial ground. This is legitimately a fact, with the land marked with a sign explaining the grounds and events that occurred there. This makes me believe that a far larger part of the town

is on burial grounds of some sort. Not to mention, the Appalachian Trail has been known to be fairly creepy, and possibly even carry some paranormal energy, so that could be a factor in this story as well. So this event happened my freshman year of high school, so four years ago. My older brother was a senior, and both of us were in marching band.

Towns are very spread out in this area, so we would often get home from football games and competitions very late. On this night, it was one of those times where we got back super late. I followed my brother around, he was saying goodbye to everyone, including one of the drum majors, who also was my big buddy, so I knew her a decent amount. Naturally, the drum majors always stayed super late, just because they have a lot of responsibilities to cover before they can leave. So when we said goodbye to her, she was still donned in full drum major uniform, cape and

all. It wasn't anything weird to see, so we set our goodbye. and my brother and I left. My brother drove us through the secluded expanse of the town, and I had noticed that it seemed like absolutely no one was out on the roads. I figured it was just late, and once again it wasn't something that I really made note of. My brother and I, both tuckered out from the long day,

drove in silence, and I watched as the forest and farms passed by. There is a very popular portion of the trail, known as the stairway to heaven. Nearby the entrance of the trail, there's a big red barn and a giant empty lot used for parking when they have barn antique sales. As we began to get closer,

we could see a bright flashing headlights coming from the lot. My brother slowed down a bit, and when we passed it by, I saw something that still chills me to this day. In the lot was a car. It had the lights within it on, and the hood was open. Getting out of the jeep-like car and standing beside it was no other than my drum major dawned in her full uniform, cape and all.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. No one would ever leave the high school in their uniform, and she looked visually in distress. It was definitely my drum major. I could see her blonde hair coming out from her hat, and it was the same body shape and all. I thought I was just tired and I was seeing things, but after we passed by, my brummed. brother finally spoke up. Was that Kate? Yeah, that was definitely her. We were silent for a moment. Should we turn around to see if she's okay? No. We drove back the rest of the way home, the air now tense. When we got home, we tried to assess the scene. My brother knew her better

than I did, and I knew that wasn't her car, nor did she live anywhere near where we lived. Again, the town is very spread apart, and she lived on the other side of town. She was in her full uniform. It was completely clear it was the drum major uniform, and it was the spitting image of her, but she looked like she was legitimately in distress. No one else was around on the road, seemingly, as if this was something we were meant to see. She was the last person we had said goodbye to, and now here she was, looking as if she was in trouble. Plus, my brother is not the person with an interest in the supernatural.

He honestly just tries to avoid the topic of it. I, on the other hand, am very into the paranormal, and have had a pretty big share of experiences. The females in my family tend to be very sensitive to weird paranormal things, but nothing ever like this. I tried to look up what it could possibly be. It seemed like it was an entity that was using some sort of mirage of something we had both seen,

and making it look as if the individual was in some pretty deep distress, as if it was luring us in. The fact that my brother spoke up first, confirmed that he had seen the exact same thing, also was jarring, especially with him being less interested and sensitive to this kind of thing. From what I've been researching, it's possible that it was a skinwalker or something. It was near the trails and the burial grounds, and seemed like it fits well with these Native American folklore creatures. I don't know if this is important to add, but I recently found out that a great-grandfather was married to a Native American female, so I do have some Native American in me, but it's not a huge percentage. I don't want to be that white person who has like 2% of Native American in the gene pool,

and equating it to being super in tune with that side and proclaiming that I'm Native American. But I decided I'd mention this, just in case it maybe lends a hand in figuring out what this thing may have been. If anyone has any clue to what my brother and I have encountered, I would really appreciate some feedback. I'm still chilled by this experience. Whenever I try to talk about it with my friends, it scares them too much for me to even fully explain what happened. What's most unnerving is the fact that it was deliberately showing us an image of a friend in distress to lure us in. The thing is, I'm so lucky I had my brother with me, because I was considering turning back, and I'm still haunted. by the thought of what could have happened if we had.

I live in an area of Michigan that was inhabited by the Odawa for centuries. I live in a really secluded area, and even within my property backs up to a nature preserve. I'm the last house on my street, and the next closest is a solid three-fourths of a mile away. I'm a smoker and an insomniac, so I end up outside smoking at like three in the morning pretty often. Note, I'm not a writer, and I suck at creating suspense, so I'll try to just tell it like it happened. I think I should also mention that I'm a staunch atheist, and generally don't believe in any gods, demons, spirits, fairies, or any of that other stuff. So some random night, I'm out smoking. This is maybe a decade ago. It's after midnight, maybe before 2 a.m.

I'm on my deck and I hear a woman scream from the woods. Now I know many of you are thinking it was either a coyote mating call or maybe a bobcat or maybe some smaller animal getting killed, all of which do sound like a woman screaming, but I've heard all of those plenty of times and have learned how they sound. And besides, this one was screaming a combination of help and the most guttural desperate sounds I have ever heard.

It was a woman. My body ran cold. I had never experienced this before. I'd read it in books and heard it described when people freeze up in movies. But I'm telling you, I felt the cold go from my heart and spread throughout my torso and limbs. Some long-asleep lizard part of my brain had just woken up. I felt like I was prey, and I'm a six-foot, 200-pound guy who long ago was a college linebacker, so I don't scare easily.

I was frozen for what seemed like an hour as this woman's screams persisted, and then were cut off abruptly, but it was probably 20 to 30 seconds, tops. At this point, I kind of regain my senses and decide a couple of things. Firstly, I'm going to go investigate because I need to know what happened, no matter how afraid I am. And at the time, I figured somebody just got murdered. Secondly, I need a weapon. I've got an old 30-40 crag I inherited from my dad, who had got it from his dad, who had carried it in World War I. I don't use this gun for hunting, because it leaves too much damage,

but it seemed to be appropriate for this. So I loaded it with four rounds, chambered the first one, grabbed the mag and went out the door. There's a hiking trail that runs by my house, and comes to a tee about a half mile off, and led in the direction of where I'd heard the woman, so it seemed to be the best bet. I set off down that trail going quickly, but as quietly as possible. In a couple minutes, I'm to the tea.

The screams came from north of here. I turned left, shine the light, and there, maybe 150 yards down the trail, is the biggest buck I had ever seen, or so I thought. I'm actually pretty scared now, because a hunter, will tell you, the most realistically dangerous thing in those woods is a buck in the rut. And I decided to slowly move up just to see if I can get close and then spook it away. I've probably closed the gap to about 30 yards. When this buck stands up on its hind legs, looks me right in the face, and says, Hey, I know it's a bit anticlimactic, but that's what the

thing said. It absolutely was not a buck snort, and it was a clearly male and human voice that said, Hey. What I have since determined to be a skinwalker, I had no idea at the time. Then slowly takes a few steps toward me. I level the 30-40 at it and held my ground, not saying a word.

It closes the gap another few steps, and I let out the loudest scream I could muster. Rather than run, it breaks into a sprint towards me, and bam, I fire off a round. I'm working the bolt, trying to get the next one chambered, when the thing takes a hard left and loops into the forest. Now, on all fours, running like a white-tailed deer, I would have liked to search for the woman, but frankly, I was scared out of my wits. I pretty much walked backwards the mile to my house, all of the while shining my flashlight around in panic, trying to spot the thing. I made it back to my house, locked all the doors and windows.

Then I looked at the phone. Should I call the cops? Well, this was ten years ago, and I have a grow-op, so I didn't. And besides, I figured if they did find the woman's body, they'd probably pin it on me. I didn't sleep at all. I just sat at the dinner table with the 30-40 and a bottle of Shmirnoff in front of me. And as soon as it was in the morning, I went out to search that area. No signs of the woman, no signs of distress, no blood, no doubt, no time.

tracks, except for my own from the night before. I checked the local paper for weeks and the regional affiliate and never heard anything about a missing woman. The worst part, though, is that on half a dozen occasions since, I've been out smoking late at night, and I'll get that cold feeling, and then I'll hear from a ways into the woods. Hey. I'm currently hiding in my closet, shaking in fear. I'm typing this out on my phone. During April of 2018, I adopted a five-month-old puppy from the pound. I was lucky enough to get her out of that hellhole and into my loving home. She was a border collie mix, and her name was Nellie. I don't know what happened to her, but what I have now is not my dog. She was a timid little pup when I first brought her home. I remember she was

inside for at least five minutes before she peed on the carpet. I could only laugh and kiss her because I was so happy. She slept in my bed that night, and for many more nights to come. She only weighed about 10 or 11 pounds when I first picked her up. The months that followed were amazing. For the first time since I graduated high school, I was over the moon. Every day when I got home from work, she would rush to greet me, with her tongue dangling from her mouth, her tail wagging wildly.

She absolutely loved to grab the newspaper. from the mailbox with me. She was also an awesome chick magnet, but that's besides the point. She loved my neighbor, a nice man named Paul, whose wife recently passed away from breast cancer. He was an older gentleman, well into his 50s, but never looked a day over 40. He liked to throw a barbecue for a few neighbors we had in our little rural community. He always made an effort, so we all returned the favor with bringing food. Things began to change in December of 2018, when in the early hours of the morning on the fifth, Nellie woke me up. I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. She stood about a meter from

the door, pointing right at it. I could hear a low growl emanating from her. Curious, I got out of bed and opened the door. To her surprise, there was nothing there. I thought that would have been the end of it. A few more days pass, and on the ninth, it happened again, early hours of the morning and pointing at the door. This continued for the next week. I believe this is when Nellie disappeared. At 2 a.m. on the 21st, Nellie woke up and wanted to go outside. She would do this once every few weeks, so it was nothing out of the ordinary. She would wake me up by licking my face, and then sulk and lay down in front of the door if I wouldn't get up. Behind my backyard is a forest that extends for miles.

Sometimes Nellie likes to hunt down rabbits and possums when we would go for a walk through the woods. When I let her out that night, she walked about five meters before the tree line. I watched her and she started her way back to the house, that is, when things didn't go exactly as planned. She must have heard something because she whipped around and pointed at the trees and growled. I thought it might have been a rabbit, but thinking back on it now, it was probably something much worse. She barked and then made a bee line for the trees. She disappeared into the thickness before I heard more barking, then nothing. Absolute silence.

I was about to grab a flashlight and put on my red bands, but then the trees started rustling. There was no wind. It was distressing, to say the least. Then they stopped. I called out her name and waited. About a half a minute later, she wandered out of the trees and back inside. I thought nothing of it and promptly went back to sleep. I should have thought about it. As the months continued, things got weird. She stopped wanting to go on walks. She cut back on her food and began to get skinnier. I decided to change up her diet from dog biscuits to meat. She liked that. She really liked that. Sometimes she would run off into the woods and go hunting for rabbits

or anything she could get her paws on. I also noticed she began to get bigger, not fat bigger because as she got bigger, it looked like she got skinnier, then she stopped playing with her toys. That weirded me out the most because she loved her squeaky duck toy I got for her the day she came home

now it lay gathering dust in the corner of my room but she began to show a liking to the barbecue get-together Paul would throw a little too much honestly that should have been a warning sign that day was the 26th of February 2019 in the following weeks people

unfortunately died it was small to begin with that makes it sound better than it was Old people died first. As sad as it sounded, we all thought it was because of old age. Then we got the details. Horrific details. They were murders.

We were absolutely scared then. Paul and I started communicating a lot more than we used to. A text every hour or so, just to check in. Or maybe a phone call or two. He told me I should keep the key from my gun safe in the lock in case of an emergency. I listened. I listened because I trusted him. I listened because he was one of my only friends. That brings us to tonight, the 24th of March. I awoke to the sound of gunfire. I rushed over to my curtains and yank them open. Paul's house was on fire. I immediately rushed to put on some

thick clothes and grabbed a flashlight and my phone ready to dial 911 for a fire truck. At the time, I didn't even notice my bedroom door was open, when I clearly remember closing it before I went to bed that night, nor did I notice Nellie was missing. I yanked open my back door, and I froze. It was illuminated by the bright fire of Paul's house. It stood on its hind legs, tall and lanky, completely black with white highlights over its body. Its eyes were almost glowing yellow. Its claws were massive. and sadly one set was clearly protruding through Paul's chest. I was, I actually don't know. It felt like so long ago, even though it was only an hour, I couldn't feel a thing. I couldn't even feel the flashlight slip through my fingers and land heavily on the concrete ground of my back patio.

I instantly realized my mistake and saw it look at me. It looked at me deep in the eye and I saw her. My sweet girl, my Nelly, or more rather, what was pretending to be Nellie. It dropped Paul to the ground and terrifyingly reared its head up in the air and howled deeply. It sounded like a mix between the sound of absolute pain and what I could only describe as Lupin's howl from the prisoner of Ascabin. That was the only motivation I needed to run.

I hauled it into my bedroom and dived into my closet and shut the door. I covered myself in dirty clothes and stayed still. It felt like I laid there for a few million years. It walked, or skulked more rather, into my room. I heard its claws clatter across the hard floor before stopping, but I heard it howl once again before it sounded like it tore my bed to bits. I heard glass smash and hard objects collide with the wall. Then nothing.

Complete silence once again, before I heard it soak off, and leave the house, probably to finish eating my friend. Now it's 7 a.m. I hear sirens outside, but I'm too afraid to leave, lest that thing is waiting for me on the other side of the door. The inky thing I could do for the last few hours was type this out and do research. But it didn't make sense. I googled everything I remembered about the thing. I got a result that I'm fairly certain is what it is. It didn't make sense. I read pages upon pages of this thing.

looked at artwork, folklore, everything. The research says it was a skinwalker. I'm not sure what to do, but I'm terrified. It's been six days and my world has changed entirely. I guess anything can be possible now. Like if I saw a unicorn fighting a werewolf tomorrow, I wouldn't be shocked after everything came to head six days ago. I'm 17 years old and it's summer vacation. I won't say where I live, but it's in the north of the U.S. I have a sister who's 15. We're very close. We live a bit off the beaten path. Town and school are a good 20-minute drive from where we live in the woods. We have no neighbors out here. We never thought anything of it until recent years, when we'd want to hang out with our friends. But town is so far off. I guess that's why we're

so close. We've always been kind of isolated from other kids, but we grew up in this old house with our mom and dad, so we never knew any other way. Our family is, was. Our family was pretty solid and stable. The only thing that ever caused any issue was my mom. My mother had schizophrenia. This usually wasn't an issue because she took her meds, but every few years she'd skip a dose or just stop taking them. She would get weird, mean, paranoid, delusional, and scared, more than anything. Since my dad owned a business, he was at work. As my sister and I were left with an authority figure whose perception was way off, she would just arbitrate rules and punishments for us, based on events that she believed to happen.

During one bad event, I feel like I was grounded for a year for doing things I'd never done. It would go on like that until she got bad enough that the police had to be involved, usually because she'd run away, get lost in the woods, and she'd be involuntarily committed, stabilized, and come back as our kind, wonderful mom again. Anyway, my sister and I were enjoying our summer break, staying up late, goofing off in the woods, and something new. I could drive now, and I'd saved up money, and my dad helped me buy a cheap-used car. It was 13 years old, but it was in good shape. It had been owned by an elderly couple who didn't use it much. So, my sister and I had the freedom to independently drive into town, go to the mall, meet up with friends.

I'm sad to say, what started as the best summer ever, looks like it stopped abruptly as a bit of it started, and there's no going back. My sister and I decided one afternoon to meet some of our friends from school in town for lunch, and spent the rest of the afternoon at the lake. Mom had been acting a little strange, and we'd wondered if she stopped taking her meds. She just seemed a little bit more scared than usual, which is generally the start, but none of us wanted to hurt her feelings by asking just yet. She told us to be home by dark, and we were. I guess dad was working late, because he wasn't home. Mom's SUV was in the driveway,

but all the lights were off in the house. When we went inside, my sister announced, Hey mom, we're home, but mom wasn't there. We looked in our parents' room, our rooms. Then the rest of the house, we started to look in the yard, and we heard her voice further out in the woods,

but we couldn't make out what she was saying. We didn't stop to think. My sister turned the flashlight on her phone on, and we started out into the woods. This was our mother. If she was lost out there, she could get hurt. And there was the concern because of her frightened behavior and her mental health history. We walked quickly for about 15 minutes into the woods, and we realized we were going further in a direction we'd never been. All of it was unfamiliar.

Outside of the little trails and familiarity of what was nearby, our home was nestled between a human street and wilderness, what my dad called the deep woods. While he was leery of us getting too far into the deep woods in general, he specifically forbade us to never be caught out there after the sun was down. We were both realizing this when we heard what sounded like our mother's scream and animal growls. We didn't say a word but blindly rushed through the trees, dodging twisted roots and thorny vines in the direction of the noises. We came to a stop and a little clearing.

The trees were thick on all sides. The sky was visible but dark. No bright moon out to illuminate. We heard rustling in the nearby brush, and my sister wheeled around with her flashlight, looking for the source. We saw branches of trees and bushes quivering, as if we were surrounded, but we saw nothing. We heard our mom's voice again, which was disturbing. Her tone was conversational, and we could hear it well enough. But the words, or sounds, didn't make much sense.

Then it stopped. Everything went silent. Everything stopped moving. That's when the smell hit us. The scent of decay. Something had crawled somewhere to die, and be discovered days later by the scent. What is that smell? I asked my sister in a whisper.

She was about to respond, but my scream cut her off. While she was looking at me, something stumbled into the beam of her light, something with red, reflective eyes, and she totally went still and silent. I did too, as we tried to make out what this thing was in front of us. It looked like a buck, standing on its hind legs, but it was all wrong. It stood about eight feet tall, and the more we looked at it, the more wrong it was. Its head was in profile now. The red eyes had been replaced by black empty sockets, and I realized its head was a skull

with bits of flesh and fur barely hanging on. It looked more like a canine skull. Its jaws seemed to turn up in a sinister grin. From its torso, it had two arms, ending in almost human hands, but with deadly claws. Instead of hooves of a deer, its legs looked more like those of a a bear. It was covered in blood, and here and there the flesh was gone, and the skeleton was visible beneath. It turned back to face us, defying everything natural, as its head turned. The face and the rest of the creature went black, like a shadow. In spite of the light shining on it, it looked like a

silhouette, and then some red eyes opened, and we could see the yellow fangs grinning, like a man's face. It looked like it was laughing, but then it began screaming. It was somewhere between a human and an animal's cry. The antlers had begun to change, wriggling like snakes. Then the thing took a jerky step toward us. Then another. Then another. As this thing started running on its hind legs, our fear paralysis broke, and my sister and I both

broke into a run. She was ahead of me with a flashlight. I was behind her, and I'll admit, I had tears streaming down my face in pure terror. Even though we have never been that far out, we seem to be heading in the right direction. We could see the lights from the house. Had we left that many lights on, Dad must be home. I didn't look back for fear that thing would be there

and pounce, or whatever it would do. Then I heard my mom's voice. Pst. That made me stop. I turned to look. My sister ran a bit more, then realized I'd stopped. Come on, are you crazy?

Let's go. But I had heard my mom. I swore I could see her through the darkness, peeking out from behind a tree, beckoning me to come back, and I almost did. My sister grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the trail, and we didn't stop running until we were at the front door, which was open.

We hadn't left the front door open, so this was strange. We took a minute to investigate. My dad's truck was in the driveway, but not parked like he normally does. The doors of the truck were open. As we walked into the house, we saw dark tracks leading in on the hardwood, like those of a dog, or in some places, a bear. These tracks looked like mud, but became bloody. We followed them through the living room to the kitchen.

We swung open the door to find our mom, pushing a mop, decidedly cleaning up the mess. We were so relieved. I think I approached her to give her a hug, but my sister grabbed my hand and stopped me. She wasn't mopping right away. I don't know how to describe it. She was just kind of raking the mop back and forth in a jerky motion, and the mop bucket wasn't out. So she was just using a wet mop to move dirty water back and forth across the floor. She actually wasn't standing the right way either.

Her head was facing down, but rolled off awkwardly to one side. Her legs positioned in odd angles where she stood. She stood up at us for a minute. I almost screamed again. Her eyes were hollow, and her mouth was full of crooked fangs that didn't fit in her mouth. But I blinked, and she looked normal, except the face. I don't know how to describe it. Her eyes didn't shine like they normally did, and in spite of a definite grin, her face seemed flat.

Hi, guys, how was your day? She asked, pronouncing some word strangely, in a bit of a staccato. Good, where's dad? My sister asked. Dad is gone, she said, cryptically, although a bit more natural, he's been having an affair. He decided to leave us, with no emotion in her voice. Normally this would be a huge shock, but I think we were both so overwhelmed with fright as it was. We just left the kitchen, without a word, walk straight upstairs to my room and locked the door.

We just sat in silence for a while. Then my sister asked, what do we do? I don't know. That isn't mom. That's the thing from the woods. The walking deer thing. What are you talking about? Apparently my sister had seen a wolf, the size of a horse, but where are you?

Where the tail end should be was another wolf. She said she saw it go all shadowy and transform into a giant figure with human-like features and the writhing antlers too, before it began to chase us. Skinwalker, my sister said. I felt like this quickened some memories in me. We had always been fond of spooky stories and supernatural sort of things. From what I remembered, a Skinwalker was a southwestern story, a Navajo witch who can change shape to do wicked things, like the Navajo version of a werewolf. I mean, after what I've seen now,

I certainly don't doubt this. We were in the north, though. The native legends and lore surrounding us spoke about a creature, or god, called the Wendigo. I couldn't remember the term at the time, so I think I called it the dead god. I was trying to remember. There was different tales about the Wendigo, most often a giant emaciated corpse with antlers and fangs. Like a Frankenstein monster made of animals, some stories say the Wendigo was cursed for committing cannibalism and transformed into a flesh-eating monster. While another story, a friend of mine, whose culture takes these things seriously, told me in a hush tone that the Wendigo was the God of the Deep Woods and the God of Death. Its spiritual touch could turn men into cannibals and would raise the dead, making host

bodies of animal carcasses, but possessed human bodies when it could, to spread its influence. After I explained this, I think we both silently accepted this as a possibility. What if mom wasn't sick all these years? What if it was the Wendigo's influence over her, trying to get to the only human family in the area? We didn't have a lot of time with our thoughts, because there were crashing sounds from the kitchen, pots and pans, dishes breaking, and an instant later, a pounding at the door. It's like this thing knew our thoughts, and it knew we weren't fooled that it was in mom's body. Our little mom, who was about five feet tall and 115 pounds with blonde-like hair and big blue eyes, she always looked so sweet, like a doll. It was unsettling to think that

something so sinister might have gotten to her, and maybe dad too. Where was he? The pounding on the door stopped. The imitation of our mother's voice was more convincing now, as if by me thinking of her gave the thing more knowledge. Hey guys, open up. I want to talk about Dad. Clearly, this is traumatic. She sounded so kind and so sympathetic. My sister is a tough girl, though.

She screamed, stay away from us. Silence. Then a growl. Then the pounding on the door resumed. It was so forceful, though, the door was going to break for sure. Before we knew what to do, a bone-white antler stabbed right through the door, showering splinters and creating several large holes.

Through the cracks, I saw a brief, broken vision of a buck's head and a wolf's jaws, covered in rotten flesh, but through another, it appeared to be totally skeletal. It laughed, or made a noise, like a deep, creepy laughter. That's when we jumped off my bed. It started ramming its antlers into the door, breaking in, but we were already out the window, climbing down the lattice that my mom grew Jasmine on. We heard the thing break through the door. Looking up, I saw its enormous, terrifying silhouette with huge antlers.

The hole totally obscured and black, except its glowing red eyes. I had my car key still in my pocket. We jumped in my car, and I started her up, and began speeding out in such a hurry. My sister had to cry out. Turn the lights on. I did, but wish I hadn't. This was taking place over seconds. We had just seen the thing upstairs, and I had to slam on my brakes,

as my mom, or whatever was in my mother, came limping out in front of the car. It was literally dragging its feet behind it. It didn't know how to use the body properly. Then it stopped. Blank face. Empty holes for eyes. It raised my mother's hands, trying to signal us to stop. My sister urged me on. What are you waiting for? That's still mom. No, it isn't. Either get around it or run it down. I wasn't sure how I felt about any of that, until what I saw. In the headlights now, I could better see Dad's truck. Hanging out of the open front door was what was left of my father. Covered in blood and his tattered work clothes.

His forearms and hands were intact, but that's all I could see. I was filled with immediate sorrow and fear. Then, a blind rage took over, and I screamed. I slammed my foot against the gas and plowed into the shape of my mother. It flopped like a rag doll over the hood, then clung to the windshield. It looked at us with red, glowing eyes for a moment. Then the eyes went dark. As her back split open, a dark shadowy figure jumped out,

vanishing into the woods in a single leap. Then the body went flat. Like a popped balloon or an empty snake skin, it seemed to just blow away too. We drove to the police station in town. Neither of us spoke the way there. My sister hasn't spoken since, or so I'm told. She's in the mental health ward of the hospital.

They've asked me vague questions and treated me physically. I'm fine. But from what I understand, there's a lengthy investigation going on. I guess the house and some of the woods caught fire from a flash lightning storm sometime after we left. I'm just now able to access a computer, so I thought I'd write this all down and try to get it out there before the doctors and the police start making me answer questions

and try to lock me up too. My whole life that I've known is gone. Nothing will ever be the same. I just want people to know what really happened before they say I've lost my mind. If anyone can offer help or advice, I don't know if I'll get it in time, but please help me. I live in a partially suburban area in Ohio. There is a small wooded area with a creek next to my family's property. I'm 16 years old, and sometimes I like to go down there and catch things like crayfish and minnows.

I have a room in the upstairs of my house, but it gets really hot in the summer, and I do not have air conditioning, so I instead sleep in the basement, which is a lot cooler. There is also a PS4 down there, so I can stay up late watching movies and playing games. In the basement, there was a very large window, and it is right next to the couch where I sleep. It all started one night, when I heard strange howls that sounded a lot closer to my house than usual. At first, it didn't scare me, because I often hear coyotes howling at night, and I just figured that there was one a little closer to my house than usual. Big deal. However, there was something off-putting about each howl. First of all, it didn't sound like a coyote, which have very high-pitched howls, and usually there are multiple coyotes howling at the same time.

The howl that I was hearing was very low-pitched and went on for probably about 15 seconds at a time. I still brushed it off, and I figured it was a large coyote that was maybe lonely. These howls went on for a few more nights, and one thing that confused me is that I stopped hearing the occasional regular coyote howl. Instead, every night there was just this howl. Remember, I had mentioned that this howl sounded closer to my house than normal, but that wasn't always the case. In fact, the howl seemed to change in volume every few minutes, like the coyote was moving while it howled. I did not see how it was possible, but the coyote was either moving at an impossible speed, howling at different points in the forest, or maybe there were multiple, but the howl didn't even sound like a coyote to begin with.

So I just assumed that maybe an odd family of coyotes moved into the forest and scared all of the the regular ones away. Some nights, the house sounded close to my house, and then in the next minute, it sounded far away. This made me feel a little bit uneasy, but I just ignored it. So, I woke up in the morning and did my usual routine of feeding my chickens, practicing driving, and going for a swim in my pond. Then, once night came, I went down into the basement to watch Thor Ragnarok, then, right about the time when Thor was fighting the Hulk in the arena, I heard one light tap on my window. This instantly broke me out of my investment into the movie and made my heart jump into my throat. I have always been a paranoid person.

At first, I just laid there, not able to move, and then once it had been a while, I relaxed and decided it was probably just a bird or something. But then, abruptly, I heard another tap at the window, and at this point, I had reasoned that it was a bird, so I didn't feel scared of moving the curtains to see if there was a bird sitting there, stunned. When I opened the curtains, I immediately wished I had been more paranoid. What I saw was not a bird. It was a face.

A terrifying, disfigured human face. I only looked at it for about two seconds before I ran upstairs to wake my parents, but I will try to describe it the best I can. Its face was longer than any person's face I had ever seen. It had no lips, and its teeth were yellow and so pointy. It looked like someone took sandpaper and did their best to carve spear points for their teeth. Its nose was gone and had no eyes, only sockets filled with blackness. And the most disturbing part was that the whole face looked like it was decaying.

When I woke my parents, my dad agreed to come with me down to the basement to see what was there. But when he went down there, the creature was gone. Needless to say, my dad didn't believe me and just said that if I was scared, I can just go upstairs to my room to sleep. That is exactly what I did. I didn't care if my room was hot. I just wanted to feel safe. So I went into my room, I locked all my windows and locked the door,

then I went on to the internet to see if anyone else had any encounters like this. It turns out that what I think I saw was something called a Skinwalker, and it started to make sense, since Skinwalkers can shapeshift, and turn into animals they kill. That would explain why the face looked like it was decaying, but then it hit me. This Skinwalker had the decaying face of a human on it. I have never seen the creature again, and I hope I never do, but it still terrifies me to this day.

Why was the Skinwalker at my window? And who did it kill to get that face? Today is the anniversary of me destroying my lower back. I am not paralyzed or anything, but I've got two herniated lumbar discs and a compressed sciatic nerve. I know that today it's not a big deal to have surgery and fix the bulging discs,

but due to an unfortunate family history with the medical practice, I'm not entirely trusting of doctors. Usually, one wouldn't bother remembering the exact date of an accident that didn't cripple them after a few months, but I remember. I feel like I have to remember that day. I injured myself taking a nasty fall, traveling in the Judean mountains, close to Comran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. One moment, I was standing on a hilltop, and the next I found myself tumbling down into a cavern. The fall didn't feel serious.

I say that it hadn't felt serious because I landed on my backpack. and the impact mostly sent waves of adrenaline through my body. Now, I obviously know better. I fell about 10 feet down. The surrounding space was spinning for a few moments and could hear my pounding heart in my ears. I looked around frantically. I didn't feel any pain at that moment,

so my biggest concern was being trapped in some cavern with no way out. Just as I was beginning to panic, I noticed a stream of light coming into the subterranean cavity I landed into. I collected myself and got back up on my feet, Walking around the cavern for a bit, I made sure that the source of light was indeed an exit, which it was. Feeling adventurous for a lone traveler who could have died mere minutes ago, I opted to go look around the cave for a bit. I guess the adrenaline rush hadn't worn off by that point yet. Anyway, I pulled my flashlight and started walking into the depths of the cave.

For about a half an hour, I couldn't find anything other than an endless maze of cave formations, sprawling seemingly into infinity, the various spiky mineral deposits forming the floor in the roof of the cave gave an appearance of some ominous colossal aliens maw. It was almost mesmerizing to look at. Endless stony tendrils sticking out in all directions for what seemed like miles upon miles. I heard someone call out from the depth of the cave just as I was about to make my way out. A man's voice boomed from the deeper parts of the cave. It sounded almost worried. Who's there? The sudden vocal. made me shudder and surprise, and I turned around calling back.

Hey, is anyone there? Hey, the voice trailed off. I thought someone was deeper in the cave. In my mind, it could have been someone who got lost or a patrolling ranger. Help me. The voice called out again, seemingly closer to me. My heart raced, and I was sure it was someone who needed help. I took a deep breath and started pacing hastily towards the source of the sound.

As I walked out, I called out. Hey, are you all right? Do you need help? Who are you? The voice called out again, seemingly closer to me. I was cut off. Stop right there. Who is that?

The voice called out. Something about it sounded odd. My instincts were practically screaming at me to take my feet and turn around and run for it as fast as I could. Instead of listening to my gut, I just stood still and started explaining who I was and what I was doing in this cavity. No response came.

Thinking whoever it was might be too hurt to keep on responding. I decided to run towards the location from which I heard the sound. What are you? That question was screeched at me from a close distance. My heart sunk as I was beginning to realize that I was in a bad situation. I sheepishly called out. Hello? As I carefully shined around my flashlight.

I just want to help you. I had called out again before I heard the sound of an animal, claw scraping against the rocks. It came from above. I didn't want to look up. I knew I should have just blasted my way out of there and never looked back, but I didn't. I didn't do that because I felt something dripping on my head. Help me. Something said close to my ears. That's when I looked up. As the light hit the cave ceiling, I nearly had a heart attack, not to mention that I cursed under my breath. Above me, clinging to the ceiling like a lizard, was some sort of amazing. It looked human-like, but it was so skinny and freakishly long.

As I stood there, frozen with fear, slowly building up in every fiber of my being, that thing, it screamed at me, revealing its rancid, serrated, yellow rows of teeth. Time seemed to slow down at that moment. The same moment I had noticed that this thing had no eyes at all. There was just terribly stretched, sickly skin over most of its head. Without even consciously deciding to run, I felt my legs move on their I managed to move a few meters away from that thing before it jumped into the air, disgustingly twisting its body in the air, landing on its all four limbs.

It charged straight at me, managing to grab a hold of my backpack. This thing tore it straight from my shoulders. I felt a tug and a lot of weight taken off my back. I just ran as fast as I could, assuming this thing was occupied with my backpack. Moments later, I heard the noise of scraping claws on the rocky surface again, followed by more calls for help. They were getting louder and louder with each passing moment. I ran and ran, without looking back, the cave seemed to go on forever.

Eventually I could see the penetrating light of the sun. The exit was in sight. As I was about to escape from the cave, I heard the creature call out to me. My heart sank. It uttered the opening words of a prayer. I was inches away from the exit of the cave, and a surge of a sharp pain shot through my spine, starting at the center of my lower back and traveling all the way along my right leg. It was so bad I just froze, and that monster slammed me to the ground.

It growled at me, scraping its bony forelimbs at my body. The weight of this thing sent further waves of agony along my lower back and leg. The pain was unbearable, but I knew I had to keep trying to escape from this thing. I twisted and turned my body underneath that thing, and it bit my shoulder. I felt liquid running down along my arm. My heart was racing at this point, and something snapped in me. I started banging my fists on this side. thing. I don't know what I hit. I couldn't tell. All I could feel was its leathery skin. It let go of me for a moment, and I turned my back, forcing myself to kick the thing that was now looming over me. It barely budged backwards. It just screeched while displaying itself like some sort of bird,

as if to tell me I have no way to survive this encounter. Whatever this thing was, its neck was completely twisted on itself. It looked like it had been snapped backwards. I kept on kicking at the abomination, while slowly crawling towards the exit. I have no idea why I did that. I just wanted to create some space between it and me. I felt something stabbed me in the hip, sending another gut-wrenching wave of needles down my leg. I turned to my side, and as I did, I felt my hand land on a rock. Instinctively I tossed it at the monster, and it retorted by pouncing at me. But I managed to roll out of its way, and it landed in the light.

It screeched and howled before bouncing on one of the cave walls again and scurried away into the darkness. While it let out some curse words I uttered when I first saw it, a mixture of fear and confusion took over my senses as chills ran down my whole body at once. I heard the thing mimic my speech, almost even mimicking my voice. My heart was about to burst out at that moment, and I forced myself to limp out of the cavern. I was lucky enough to encounter a couple of patrolling rangers. I told them I had fallen and gotten hurt as a result.

At the moment, I didn't think telling anyone about the creature was a good idea. Legend states that King Solomon banished all of the demons and evil spirits from the land of Israel. Knowing what I know now, I can wholeheartedly say Solomon was certainly not very good at banishing demons. I must tell this story before they find me. I'm writing this on a library computer on an account I made to tell the story. For this story to make sense, there are three things about me to keep in mind. I'm a female. I've lived in Tucson, Arizona, my entire life, and I speak fluent Spanish.

Back in 2016, I lived in a small apartment near 12th in Valencia, the same main street as the airport. If you go several miles down Valencia, you can visit the Sawaro National Park, though the street more or less becomes off-road past Wilmont. It's basically a straight line. My boyfriend I lived within the apartment knew this, and thought we should spend a day out there. We took his old truck out there. I'm not experienced on automobiles in any form. All I know is that it was a Chevy, and my boyfriend, we'll call it.

Adrian would often talk about the lift kid he put on it, so that it was raised even higher off the ground. If I asked him, he could probably give a lot more details on that truck, but that's not important to the story. All that really needs to be known is that it's great for off-roading, and we often went up on the mountains together in it. It was a cloudy day in November. I'd say it was probably 80 or so degrees out. When we went to spend the day at the National Park, we'd been planning it for ages, and I was really excited for this. But that was all great. going to change. I remember this, since it's been haunting me for nearly three years. We had spent the majority of the day hiking and smoking weed in an assortment of different locations,

just enjoying the cacti and the snacks we brought along. It was starting to get late. It was getting on to be winter, so it was dark around 5 p.m. And yet we weren't back in the truck until about 8 p.m. The truck was off with the windows open. Before I could speak, he put his hand over my mouth and held up a single finger. Having been sitting in the dark for hours, my eyes were well adjusted, and the glow he pointed out to me in the distance took all of my attention. What appeared to be some sort of firelight was about a hundred or so meters in front of us, but behind us was the sound of movement. It was like a group of animals thrashing about. Adrian turned on the truck, keeping the headlights off to roll up the windows, before promptly turning it back off. I was so

out of it at the time I wasn't sure what was really happening. All I was sure of was that he needed me to keep quiet and remain alert. When the thrashing sound came closer, it was apparent that it was stomping and chanting. They were clapping and chanting about Santa Morte. Now Adrian doesn't speak Spanish, though he's full Mexican. He just never learned, so I ended up whispering the translation to him. It was like one of those prayers on the candles you can buy. It spoke about asking the holy death for a blessing, but I don't remember what they wanted very clearly. What I do remember was the slam of a hand on the hood of the truck and the wild eyes of a boy. He looked to be somewhere between the ages of 18 and 20, not very old, but not a young teen. He had paint around his dark eyes,

and it haunts me in my dreams. To the best of my knowledge, this boy was all who knew of us at the moment. Adrian swore, but he didn't move. Instead, he just watched the boy, and I watched him. Adrian has always been the type of guy who's confrontational, and he's always been insistent on solving any issues we face, and being someone who hates confrontation, I was rather reliant on him to face the issues for me. The boy yelled for others to surround the truck in Spanish. In the moment, something in me snapped, and keeping my eyes trained on the mirror on the passenger side, I told him to reverse, darting my eyes back and forth between the boy and the figures coming out from the cacti, as Adrian reversed and turned in a huge jerky motion, before hitting uneven road.

We were originally just parked at the side of the road, the feeling of being washed. The feeling of being watching watched, hunted even, compelled me to tell him to head downtown, where we ended up spending a few hours at the shot in the dark, a cafe that's long since closed. For two months following that night, I had gradually got more and more paranoid about it, and although Adrian tried to convince me that I was overreacting, and there were no chance that we'd ever encounter them again, I just couldn't believe him, despite how desperately I wanted to. It was when we were nearing three months since that night, when the previously fixed hand dent was back. and heavily multiplied. It was like dozens of hands tried to peel the metal back to get in.

I haven't had any other events since Adrian had his truck fixed and sold. But recently he bought a similar one, and the paranoia has been seeping back into my bones. When I'm not at work, I don't leave my house unless I'm going to be indoors, because I can't risk the thought of them finding me again. The thought of them finding me vulnerable, alone or not, it leaves me shaken. I can't remember what they wanted, but I remember the way he smiled when he mentioned wanting to get into the truck and to have us surrounded, and I would rather I never found out what he planned that night. In July of 2016, I went with three of my roommates on a camping trip in New Mexico. We decided to hike into the Pecos Wilderness because of the beautiful pictures of the lakes and trails on the

preserve. I don't know if camping on the preserve is actually allowed, but we were carefree and didn't check to see if we could. We hiked until we reached the lakeed until we reached one of the lakes. By that time it was dusk, and we were starving and tired. We decided to set up our tents about half a mile from the lake. We brought hot dogs and beans to cook on the fire, classic camping cuisine. We split up to get stuff for the fire, dead branches, twigs, and stones. While getting firewood, I noticed a lot of coyotes scat in the area. I made a mental note to keep my pocket knife close, even though coyotes aren't a huge threat. When I came back, I told my friends, but like me, they didn't think much of it. After dinner, we sat talking about things that

went on that year. It soon became pitch black, and the only light came from the fire and a couple of electronic lanterns we brought. My roommates went to bed one by one, until, like in normal horror story fashion, I was alone. I sat stoking the fire, making sure it was a controlled burn, before I could brush my teeth and change into sleeping clothes. I walked a half a mile back to the lake with one of the lanterns and used the lake water to brush my teeth and wash my face. While washing my face, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I got the feeling of being watched. I'm crouched at the edge of the lake, realizing how vulnerable I am, only a pocket knife to defend myself. There could be a deranged camper out there. I stand up, hand to my pocket

on my knife, when I hear coyotes howling. I relax, thinking that it may have just been coyotes watching me, so I walk back to the campsite. I make it back and go into my tent to get sleeping clothes out of my backpack. I'm about to start changing when I hear twigs break. I just thought one of my roommates came back out of their tent to go take a leak. I stuck my head out of the tent when I saw a coyote near the campfire. I froze trying to take in what's happening. It looked like a coyote, except for a few characteristics. Its eyes were really bright yellow. It looked taller than a normal coyote would be, and it was crouching near the fire, crouching on its hind legs. I'm frozen, being stared down by the coyote when one of the roommates tries to get out of the

tent. He sticks a foot and head out before he sees it. He stares and yells, what is that? The coyote runs at a breakneck speed into the darkness, but not normally. On its hind legs, my roommate continues to yell and wakes up the others. They asked what happened and we explained to them what we saw. They thought we were trying to fool them. and didn't believe a word we said. The roommate and I decided to sleep in the same tent since I was the only one who brought a knife along. We laid there, cramped in the tent,

too terrified to sleep when we heard noises. Twigs were snapping around our campsite, as if it was circling around us. We stayed motionless in the tent, not daring to see the time go by on our phones. Eventually, daylight came, and the noises grew further away. Our two roommates didn't hear the noises,

and had to force us out of the tent in order to leave. We walked miles back to where we parked our car and decided that we should get a motel and spend the night in Santa Fe. When we get to our room, I immediately Google the events of what happened the previous night and learned of the Navajo legend. When you go camping, make sure you have something to protect yourself and a way to get out of there at an instant. Nothing about my life is exactly what you would call extraordinary. I'm a 25-year-old male who's been cut out of work for about a month now and single for longer than I can share. Seeing how I live alone in an almost empty apartment complex in the middle of West Virginia, there wasn't much entertainment to be found.

I picked up my smoking habit out of boredom more than anything. This means I had to make routine trips outside, a new activity for me. Sadly, my overpriced apartment lacks a back porch or patio to go out and smoke on. However, there is a rarely used park between both apartment buildings, with a few wooden benches amongst weathered swings and play sets. The whole apartment complex is surrounded by practically nothing, other than miles of dense forest and a highway that's a bit off the beaten path, so it's quite a secluded spot. At first, it was pretty relaxing just to sit outside unoccupied, allowing my worries to wander

with each drag off my cigarette. However, it only took a few nights before I started to feel uneasy whenever I went outside. Almost as soon as I would step out of my apartment, I would get an overwhelming feeling of being watched, as if a pair of eyes were constantly following me. Although, as soon as I looked towards the thicket of the woods behind me, the feeling would instantly disappear. At first, I shook it off as either being too paranoid or that perhaps a noisy neighbor was simply spying on me.

However, I would soon come to learn that neither of those guesses were correct. I quickly decided that the uncomfortable feeling of being watched wasn't worth the trip outside, so I began to drive around and smoke whenever I got a craving for a cigarette. I smoked nearly half a pack before realizing how long I had been gone just driving around, so I began to make my way back to my apartment. I wondered if perhaps my suspicions was also afraid of whatever was lurking in the woods behind my apartment. I arrived back to my place around sunset.

The moon and the sun both hung ominously overhead, cradled by swirling amber skies. As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that the door on the second floor of my building had been left open. This seemed odd to me, as I hardly ever see signs of life. aside from the empty pizza boxes left outside of the other apartments, and the occasional muffled, yet still loud arguing of the couple that live below me. It wasn't until I got closer that I realized it was actually the front door of my apartment, wide open. Not wanting to investigate in the dark that the encroaching night-time would bring with it,

I crept up my apartment, afraid of what I might find inside. Even though I tried to walk as quietly and carefully as possible, each step boomed and reverberated through the concrete structure. I stopped in my tracks once I reached the top of the stairs. There were large, muddy hoof prints leading into my apartment, but none leading out. Whoever, or whatever, had broken in, was still there. Feeling a newfound sense of bravery,

I began to creep closer in my apartment. When I suddenly heard a floorboard right next to my door creak, I immediately turned around and booked it down the stairs and back into my car without looking back. Once I got in my car, I locked all the doors before throwing a glance back at my apartment. The first thing my eyes landed on was a leathery, black-clothed hand wrapped around the door frame. Right above it was a single piercing yellow eye, glaring right at me before quickly retracting itself back into my apartment,

slamming the door shut. Regardless of how terrified I was, I couldn't look away from the spot where that person or thing was just seconds before. I was paralyzed in fear for a few moments before eventually snapped myself out of it and searched for my cell phone. I hastily began to dial 911 when I realized how ridiculous it was going to sound when I told them that a black, clawed creature of some sort, had broken into my apartment. Regardless, there was absolutely no way that I was going to step foot back into the apartment alone and unarmed. I decided that I would tell the police that someone had broken into my apartment, and I believe that they were still there. It took about 45 minutes before I saw the signature flashing blue and red lights pull into my apartment complex.

I promptly met the cop and the cruiser and briefly explained the same. situation to him, leaving out the part about worthy intruder, possibly being inhuman. We walked up the stairs together, with him leading the way and me following behind. He stopped abruptly as soon as we reached the top of the stairs. Even though I was still behind the officer, I could tell his eyeline was still fixed on the hoof prints leading to my apartment. Without hesitation, he slowly but confidently unholstered his handgun and gripped it with both hands, ready to shoot. He told me to stay at the top of the staircase as he went to investigate further. I watched as he pulled the apartment door open, announcing his presence and for the intruder to come out with his hands up. There was no response.

The following silence hung thick in the air. He began to take a step forward into the apartment when I heard the same floorboard creak again. A quick flash of black jutted out from inside the apartment and slashed the cop across the face before pulling the door shut once again, leaving four distinct claw marks engraved in his skin. The cop fell back, stunned before quickly gaining his composure. He jumped up, pushed past me, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he sped down the staircase and back into his cruiser. I yelled out to him, but he didn't even bother to look back. I ran down to try to stop him from leaving, but he had already put the car in reverse.

His tires spun furiously in the gravel, throwing a cloud of dust and rocks at me as he sped off. I couldn't believe my own eyes. I shakily dialed 911 once again and explained the situation to the operator, but there was a strange tone in her voice. It was if she knew something more about all of this than I did. They simply told me that there was nothing else that they could do, and to call again should any other problems arise. If the people who were put in charge to protect couldn't even help me,

then what else was I to do? I fell down on my knees, feeling defeated, as tears began to pool in my eyes. Suddenly I heard the apartment door creak open slowly, followed by two thunderous stumps. I felt the creature's eyes staring at the back of my head. I was frozen in terror, afraid to even take a breath or look back. The steps began to get closer, with each one being louder and more doom-laden than the one before. I started to accept my untimely demise when I heard a vehicle squeal into the parking lot.

A young girl with rowdy brunette hair swung open a passenger door. Her mahogany eyes burned with a rugged ferocity. We didn't even have to exchange words. Her curt demeanor said it all, and I made my way to her car as fast as my feet could carry me. I heard the pace of the footsteps behind me quicken, along with a demonic yet primal growl. I barely had both feet inside the car before it sped off towards the exit.

The creature swiped at us one last time. Its claws scraping the passenger side of the vehicle. I turned around, locking eyes with the creature once again. Its glowing yellow eyes, and a wide, fanged smile faded away, swallowed by the blackness surrounding the edge of the woods. Despite the pure, unbridled terror and confusion I felt at that moment, I somehow knew I would be back. I live in a big house by a country road in Pennsylvania.

I love the outdoors. Often I go hiking, hunting, fishing, or ride my ATV whenever I have a day off from work. There's a massive forest behind my house, and I have had countless adventures in those woods. Sometimes during the night, animals visit my best. backyard. I don't mind. They never cause me any trouble, but I have a security camera that monitors the backyard just in case. Most of the time it's just deer, foxes, and one time a black bear. There are not a lot of

houses in my area, so the animals are essentially my neighbors. Last year, I invited my friends and family to my place for a barbecue cookout during the 4th of July. The adults and I were on the deck telling silly stories of things that happened at work. Their children were either playing in the backyard, shooting Nerf guns at each other, or inside playing games. After the party ended, I cleaned up around the house. Around 10 p.m., I was in the living room watching the news, and started to hear loud shrieks coming from the woods.

I turned on the lights in the backyard and looked through the kitchen window, but saw nothing. I didn't think much of it, and just assumed it was a cougar. I have seen them a few times throughout the summer, while hiking in the forest late at night. I turned the lights off, and I went to bed. The next morning, I decided to check the security camera to see if any animals came into my backyard,

but nothing happened that night. I was off from work that day, so I took my ATV and ventured into the woods. About 10 minutes of driving through the forest, I came across the remains of a deer, covered in claw marks lying in the dirt. His eyes and tongue were ripped out. Upon further investigation,

there was a massive slit under the belly, and all of its organs were removed. This was rather unusual, and I assumed that the deer was attacked by a bear, but I brushed it off and continued to ride my ATV through the forest. After 20 minutes go by, I got thirsty and stopped by a small rocky cliff near a creek. I drank my water while sitting on the cliff. It was very relaxing hearing the calm stream of water, and the birds chirping in the trees. I saw a red-tailed hawk swooped down into the water and grab a large fish, This was an incredible sight, and things like that is why I love going into the woods.

Just when I was about to go back to the ATV and drive home, I noticed that a corpse of a young man was lying at the bottom of the cliff, and red was smeared all over the rocks around the body. I walked to a nearby hill and got a closer look, and much like the buck I saw earlier, the corpse was covered in claw marks, and its tongue and eyes and organs were gone. This unsettled me, so I took pictures, and showed them to the police when I got home.

I got home. The police recovered the body for further investigation and told me to contact them if I find anything else suspicious in the forest. After they left, I went to the diner for lunch with my best friend George. Something strange has been going on in the woods, I said. I came across the husk of a deer, and later a young man. Both of them had their organs, eyes, and tongue extracted by something. George had a curious look on his face. I recently got a job with the local police and there have been numerous reports of cattle, even human corpses with the same conditions for the past week. He said, what he told me gave me an uneasy feeling. Some farmers think this might be aliens abducting people and animals, but that's just ridiculous, George said. He drank

his coffee and asked a waitress for a refill. He noticed a nervous look on my face. What's wrong? You think aliens are doing this? George laughed. No, not at all. I'm probably still in shock from what I saw in the woods earlier, I said. George nodded his head. I would be spooked too if I was in your shoes. Well, at least you didn't go Logan Paul recording the body and making a joke out of it, George said. I chuckled from this comment, and after lunch, I headed home. As much as I loved the outdoors, I didn't feel safe going into the woods anymore. So I locked all my doors and windows and played my PS4 for the rest of the afternoon. When it got dark outside, I started

hearing the same screaming that I had heard last night. I turned the lights on in the backyard, and for a split second saw a pair of big eyes in the woods reflecting the lights before rushing deep into the woods. I kept hearing screaming throughout the night, so I went to bed with headphones on, listening to relaxing music, and I had a pocket pistol under the pillow just in case something enters my room. Luckily, I was able to sleep well for the night. When I had breakfast the next morning, I checked the security camera. Nothing came into my backyard until 3.17 a.m. I was shocked at what I saw. A hairy humanoid with six long limbs crawled into my backyard. It had dark, shaggy hair hanging from them like an orangutan. There was an arm directly on top of each

shoulder. It had big glowing eyes with no pupil, massive claws on each hand, and its mouth gaped open with long, sharp teeth. It was dragging a massive bear covered in claw marks. The creature then began to eat the bear. When the creature finished eating, it came to the backyard and scratched on it like it was a dog trying to get inside. It snarled and slowly crawled its way back into the woods, leaving behind the bear's skin and bones. Of all those years I spent in the woods, I have never seen anything like this. I went to my backyard, and sure enough, the empty husk of the bear was lying in the grass. I checked my door, and there was no damage. I called the police immediately, and George came with them. I showed them the bear husts.

and the security footage. This is horrifying, cried George. Whatever that thing is, it's probably the one that got all of those animals and people. George and the other officer decided to contact the state police. Shortly after, a squadron came and searched the forest. After several hours, they didn't find anything, so they left the area. When I came home from work that night, I began to hear the same screaming sounds coming from the woods. I was outside and I heard the sound much clearer.

It sounded like a dog or a hyena, but much deeper. I could not let this creature harm people and their livestock. I wanted to end this once and for all. I grabbed my hunting shotgun, pocket pistol, cell phone, and flashlight. I then started to walk into the woods. As I journeyed into the woods, the screams echoed all over the place. The creature could be anywhere. Suddenly, I saw it several yards away from me, eating an elk.

I carefully aimed my gun at the monster, and then it noticed me. I pulled the trigger and shot it. The beast fell over but quickly got up, brushing it off. The ape creature gave out an enraged roar and charged me on all six limbs. I shot at it four more times, but they only slightly knocked the creature back. My gun suddenly jammed, and the creature jumped towards me. I swung my shotgun at its head like a baseball bat. I heard a snap and the creature cried. It fell to the ground and its top pair of arms snapped its head back in place.

The creature snarled at me, and I ran deeper into the wall. woods. I tried shooting at it with my pocket pistol, but the creature got away. Exhausted, I walked back to my house. I checked my phone, and it was 11 p.m. I locked everything and went to bed. I woke up at four in the morning and started hearing loud banging coming from my back door. I put on my pair of night vision goggles and looked through my window. I was startled when I saw, not one, but three ape creatures standing on my deck. One of them was able to smash the door open, and they crawled into my house one by one. Terrified, I tried calling 911, but my phone died. I could hear the beasts walking through the house. They curiously looked around the house, interacting with objects around them.

I then noticed that one of them was right underneath my chandelier by the front door. I shot the chain holding the chandelier, and it fell on top of the beast. I then ran downstairs to the front door. The other two creatures began to chase me. One of them walked on the broken glass and cried in pain. The other one observed the two injured creatures and then climbed on the wall avoiding the glass as if it were an insect. I put my shoes on and ran for the car. Just when I was about to start the engine, the ape creature slammed into my car, nearly pushing it over. I started the engine and drove away from the house. I headed to a hotel near the highway and asked for a room on the top floor. I spent the rest of the night there sleeping. I called off work the next morning,

telling them I was sick. I was able to charge up my phone in the hotel room and call the police. Besides the chandelier and back door, not much was damaged in my house. When the police investigated my house, all the creatures were gone. However, the police were able to find clumps of black hair around the house, as well as some blood around the broken glass. The samples of hair and blood they collected has only added more mystery to what happened. At first, it didn't seem like anything unusual, but one of the scientists in the crime lab discovered that their chemical makeup wasn't only organic. It seemed to be unexpectedly, mechanical, an organic machine.

The samples were then sent to a hospital lab for further research. After I got the damage in my house repaired, I adopted a young German shepherd from the animal shelter. I take her with me whenever I go into the woods and stayed out of there whenever it was dark outside. I haven't seen the creatures since then, but every once in a while, I hear them screaming in the woods. Occasionally, there are still reports on the local newspaper of animal and human husks being found in the area.

Every time I am reminded of those things, I keep asking myself, what are they? But more importantly, how many more are out there? I've been working second shift for a couple of years now, and I have to say it's come with some distinct advantages. The biggest one that I can tell you is that by the time I get off work, most people are home and either asleep or ready to go to sleep. This means my drive home is peaceful, with few drivers to look out for and almost no one to slow me down. But last night, my drive home ended with something I cannot fully explain. I need to give you all a bit of information about my drive home. I live on the outskirts of a mid-sized city.

The drive itself is only about 25 minutes. I cut that down to 20 at night when I get to speed home. The most important thing to know is there's lots of fields on both sides of the road for most of my drive. Roadkill is a common sight. Deer were unfortunately the most common. They'd sneak out of the fields trying to cross to the other side, only to be met with a car going a little too fast to stop in time. It's unfortunate, but they would be left on the side of the road

with contorted limbs, a bent neck, or gore spilling from their body, sometimes all of the above. A pretty gruesome and violent way to go, but something most people are desensitized to with how common it is. Day by day, the corpse would slowly rot. Each day I would see the decay as I drove by until that day where it was just gone. I still have no idea where those dead deer go. I just know they sit there for days rotting, and then suddenly they're gone,

and the side of the road waits for its next piece of roadkill. Nearly every night as I drove home from work, I would see a dough that would linger on the edge of the field, like she was waiting for her chance to cross. I would also slow down to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. There were a few times she stood in the center of the road, and I would just have to lay on my horn to get her to move. I'd figured that I'd see her on the side of the road after a while,

hit by some speeding driver. Well, last night, I was in a bit of a rush to get home. There was no particular reason for it. Maybe I was just hungry and wanted to get some food in my belly. Or maybe I just wanted to get home and relax. I'm not entirely sure myself, but I found my foot pushing a little too hard on the gas as I sped down the field-lined road,

watching as my speedometer crept ever higher. I think by now you have a clear idea of what happened. I slammed into the deer at maximum speed. There was a loud thud and the car shook from the impact. She flipped clear over my car and landed behind me as I pushed my foot down on the brake pedal. I barely kept control of the car until it finally skidded to a stop. My immediate thought was to check and make sure I wasn't injured. I felt fine, other than the jerk forward from braking so hard.

There was no reason to be injured. I looked myself over and everything was fine. I shamefully must admit that the next thought was not the deer who lay on the road behind me, but instead it was my car. I took a deep breath and opened my door. Stepping out into the dark of night, I moved to the front of the car to inspect the damage. In the dark, it was too difficult to see, but the front bumper in the hood had received damage, though it was nothing catastrophic.

I hoped my insurance would cover it as I cursed aloud at the situation. Lastly, I decided to check on the deer. It was immediately clear that she was gone. Her head was bent so far back that it nearly touched her back, and I silently accursed myself for not slowing down and paying more attention. This could have all been avoided. I returned to my car to fetch a pair of gloves from the glove compartment. I wasn't going to touch that thing without some gloves on.

But I had to get that deer out of the road, so other drivers don't continue to run her over. It was the least I could do, so I grabbed the legs and began to pull the deer off the side of the road. She was heavier than I imagined, but it wasn't far. As I got her to the side of the road, I let go of her legs and noticed something odd.

On her side, I could see a pulsating pattern, like the muscle underneath was moving, a death spasm perhaps, or maybe some sort of twitch. It was a violent way to go, so it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility. I watched as it continued, curiously placing my hand on the area

and feeling the rumble underneath, but then something happened, and the pulsating grew more rapid, more violent. I removed my hand out of fear as the area began to bulge like something underneath the skin was pressing to get out. I watched the skin bulge, then relax, each time getting bigger, stretching the limits of the deer's skin. My heart rate was skyrocketing, but things were only getting worse. I was backing up now, but I could still see clearly when the skin ripped and out came a red hand, a human hand. I had seen enough. I ran to my car and tried to start it, but I was fumbling with my keys out of nervousness.

started to panic as I got the keys in place and started the car. Looking in the rearview mirror, I could see an entire body emerging from the deer. It had the head of a buck, complete with a set of gigantic antlers, but its body was human, covered in what was left of the deer. It stood on two lakes, being nearly eight feet tall by my quick estimation. It wasn't even possible for something like that to fit inside of a deer. I didn't have time to speculate on what it was or how it came to be. I put my car into drive and sped off as it turned around. I kept watch on it through the rearview mirror and saw it get down onto all fours, and to my horror,

it started to run after me. The way it ran on all fours with a human body was startling. The unnatural creature somehow landed itself to a furious speed. Its eyes were filled with malice and copious amounts of drool dripping from its mouth. I floored it as it gained on me. There was no way it could outrun a car. But my car struggled to accelerate, and I could hear a low grunting noise coming from the deer creature.

He was so close now. My nerves were shattering. I had a crazy grip on my steering wheel as I prayed for my car to move faster. Its antlers scratched the back of my car as it disappeared from my rearview mirror and came back into my side view mirror as it made its way alongside my car. With quick thinking, I turned my wheel ever so slightly to the left in an effort to push him away. To my fortune, he stumbled and fell, losing all momentum. My car, having finally gained enough speed, roared down the road without an issue.

I made a few last checks in my rearview mirror, but the deer creature was gone from sight. I got home safely, but there was no way I could sleep after an event like that. I altered between anxious pacing and sitting at my computer to search the internet. I searched everywhere for some sort of explanation. I read about skinwalkers, Wendigo, ghosts, demons, but none of it really matched or explained what this thing was. Half of it was fictional stories that people cooked up, and the other half were likely just fake too. As I paced past my window for probably the hundredth time that night, my motion sensing light in my front yard lit up.

To my horror, it stood there on two legs in my front yard. The deer creature arched its head back and forth, almost like it was sniffing the air. I crouched down below the window, and before I knew it, I had found myself lying down on the floor in a fetal position, trying my best not to make any noise. Terrifying thoughts of him catching me and goring me with his antlers ran through my head. I don't know how long I laid there, but I only moved once the sun started to come up.

I cautiously checked the front yard, and it was clear. I looked out every window in my house to make sure it wasn't just waiting outside, but I didn't see any sign of it. I tried to convince myself I was delusional. It was all just my imagination, where I was sick, but my car still has the damage from hitting the deer

and scratches all over the back from the thing's antlers. There was no denying that. A quick shower and a change of clothes had me feeling a little more at ease. But my lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me. I had to go to work, though, and that meant going back down that road. I could detour around it, but I wanted to see if that deer was still laying on the side of the road. The car started as usual, and I found myself driving to work on autopilot. My thoughts went back to last night's events, and I nearly lost my nerve to keep going.

But I reasoned that in the day it would be safe for me to go down that road. Traffic was heavier during the day, and for once I was thankful there would be more people than just me on that road. But when I was approaching the road, I saw multiple police cars with their sirens on. They were blocking off the road, testing my luck. I rolled down my window as I approached the turn and decided to ask the officer what was going on. This road closed? Something happened down there? I asked the officer.

Yeah, the road's closed for now. You can go up the next road and cut through there if you need a detour. He was not forthcoming on the reason, so I tried to. a second time. Can I ask why you're closing it? Was there an accident? Right now, I can't say anything for certain. The policeman looked around before leaning in and speaking softly. This was no car accident. All I can say. I gave him a quick thanks and began to slowly drive off, peering down the road as best as I could, I noticed an ambulance there. An ominous feeling came over me and I started to think about the deer creature. I saw a group of men who appeared to be field workers,

judging by their slightly dirty clothes and gloves. They all frowned as they silently sat outside the barricade of the police cars, and one of them appeared to be crying. I pulled my car over and decided to ask if they knew anything. You guys know anything about why the road is closed? I asked. The group of guys just looked at me and then at each other, but one of them stepped forward and spoke to me reluctantly. Ain't no easy way to say it, but there's been a murder down on that road,

one of my workers. There was a long pause and I thought he might stop there, but he offered more details. Well, he usually is the first one here every morning, but this morning we came and found him on the side of the road, gone. Looked like an animal got him. He had holes in him and looked like he had been charged several times, but I ain't ever heard of a buck getting someone. My blood ran cold as he told me this. I shuddered out something about being sorry for their loss and turned around to head home. Whatever that thing is, I can only hope it never finds me.

again. This is one of the most recent encounters I've had. Last night was a cold one, even for South Carolina, and my friend and I had just come from downtown Charleston. Oddly enough, we were on the hunt for any unnatural things, hoping that we'd attract yet another set of terrifying or suspenseful circumstances. Suffice it to say, our wish had been granted. So, without further ado, let's begin. My friend and I had a long day, filled to the brim with fun and adventure. investigations and whimsical things. After we had spent most of the day in the downtown portion of Charleston, enjoying the frigid breeze and watching the rough waters roll against the docks,

we decided it was best to head back before nightfall. Some time had passed, and we eventually arrived back in our city of Somerville, but our appetite for the supernatural and otherworldly hadn't been sated just yet, so we decided to drive around and look at a newer town that had just been added close to us. the town of Summer's Corner. It was a nice town, sure enough, but the energy there had just felt weird. Atmospherically speaking,

it was heavy and almost suffocating. That wouldn't deter us, as we're quite a resilient bunch, always moving forward, keeping a smile on our face, even if the circumstances are pure unadulterated agony. About half an hour into the drive, we discovered a street called Navajo Boulevard,

which had immediately piqued our interests, as the name itself is similar to the Native American, American tribes of the Navajo people, the exact people who hold within their traditions one of the most scariest entities to haunt our world, the Skinwalker. So, we start to drive down the road. It's dark and the energy there is thicker than the rest of the road. We had our windows down so we could truly feel the atmosphere and its energy, its vibrancy, and we were not disappointed. Immediately, we felt watched, not by multiple things, but one entity. This thing did not want us there at all, and we felt it come closer to us. Its present was intimidating, quite malicious as well,

and it put us on edge, our eyes peeled and ourselves readied for whatever might happen next. The night grew quiet. All the noise ceased and the silence fell around the surrounding area. Where there had been no prior wind before, a heavy gust slammed itself into the side of my car and nearly shoved it off its left side. That's when we knew this was no mere entity. Just then, we saw a face in the front of our flickering headlights, grotesque, reddened with malice and spiteful things. Its eyes as pale and silver as the moon, gazed into our souls, sending nothing but fear throughout our entire bodies. We were motionless now, ourselves shrinking into our seats as this abomination grew closer and manifested more into view. It unhinged its jaw and let out a horrific scream.

Much like from the first one I heard, of a dog's bark, a goat's bleat, and additionally, a fox's scream and an eagle's soaring screech. Enough was enough. I put the car into reverse and we drove the hell out of there. Unfortunately, the feeling was only intensified as we got back under the road and sped away. The intensity and dread grew ever more as it gained speed. Another gust of wind slammed into the car. Suddenly, my friend yelled for me to look out the window. Right behind my seatbelt on the outside of the car, that's when I saw this awful thing in its entirety. Reddish, pale skin, eyes that seem to have no end, with goat and reptilian-like slits in the pupils. Two stubby little horns adorned its head,

sprouting out from atop the brow ridge and rising just above its forehead. It opened its mouth and revealed rows of sharp, gnarled teeth. A hand with long, stained claws scratched at the glass, making a scream to high heaven. My foot pressed the gas pedal as hard as it could, as we were about to drive out of the neighborhood. The thing smiled at us and faded away. The breeze scattering the leaves on the road against where it had been perched on my car's side, it was gone, but we heard a very audible whisper tell us that it'd be back real soon. Then it was quiet again.

The heavy energy subsiding and gaining some neutrality as the night dragged on. All of this goes to show us, my friend and I, that just because we've experienced our fair share of unnatural things, and even more together, that there's always something out there waiting to show us more of the true world we live in, the world that we share with these entities, beings that cross from their veil into ours. So I used to live in northern Arizona in a town called Page. The town is on Lake Powell and nearby Horseshoe Bend, which are both massive tourist attractions recently. It also happens to border the Navajo Reservation and has a population that is majority native. I'm currently 18.

I moved away less than a month ago, so I live my whole life in the town, essentially. I have heard stories, many stories from my friends, their parents as well, but these two stories are my actual experiences. The first story happened a year and a half ago. Since pages a 60 mile drive from the next closest town, the nearby area is very popular among locals for jackrabbit, coyote, and bobcat hunting. This particular day, I was out on my own, pretty far back on some local dirt trails. Pretty recently after, I started hunting myself. My target was coyotes. This was before I had a call, so I had to look for them or bait them. And my firearm was a Springfield Saint AR-15, loaded with American Eagle 55-grain AP shells,

which, yes, is an important detail. It was probably around noon, and I had wandered down into the wash that ran up into and across the bottom of one of the sandstone cliff sides of the area. While walking through the wash, I scared probably the biggest coyote I had ever seen up the side of the cliff, face. As it was scaling, I took three shots at it, and I was able to hit at least one because it started bleeding as it made its way up and over the top of the hill cliff. I gave pursuit and probably scaled the face in three to four minutes of winded climbing. At the top, the cliff turned into a flat mesa, covered by shrubs and dried up bushes, probably about knee high at most, with no coyote in sight. I started to follow the blood trail. After about 20 minutes of following,

I was confused and somewhat concerned. The trail was still thick. Too much was being spilt to allow the coyote to continue in a straight sprint for that long. And I was hunting with the round that would drop a mountain lion in its tracks. After about ten more minutes, the tracks from the coyote met up with the tracks from what I'm assuming were goat tracks. This is where I turned and got the hell out of there. Both of the tracks were recent, deep, and the sand was still loose enough to fall when I kneeled down to take a look at them. The tracks split from each other, the coyotes going far off to the left, and the goats going to the right.

The blood trail, though, no longer followed the tracks of the coyote, but instead indicated that the goat had been shot. The tracks led down into another wash, known in the area for being bad news, so I got back to my truck, fast after that. The second story took place near the outskirts of town, and has a video that comes with it. My friends and I were out around 10 at night, near one of the local jogging trails. At the edge of one of these trails, a storm drain tunnel sticks out. We used to joke about skinwalkers using it to hide from joggers or bikers, but it never paid it much attention. This night, though, we decided to go into the storm drain to see for ourselves.

I, of course, was the first one in, and had five people behind me. We were probably 300 feet in when I heard what sounded like claws scraping against the concrete ahead of me. I could only see about 50 feet in front of me with my light, so I shushed everyone behind me. As soon as we got quiet, a moan resonates through the tunnel. I had never backtracked on all fours so fast in my life. The storm drain leads to a nearby road,

which the people who were too scared to go into the tunnel were looking at, but they were not on the road or anywhere near the opening of the road, and were taking Snapchats at the time of the noise, showing us that one, it wasn't them. And two, there were no cars on the road at the time. I can't prove these were skin walkers, but they definitely weren't any person or animal I've ever encountered in my lifetime. Here's the video.

To start this off, I wanted to give some background information. I'm 14, female, and half Navajo. I've never been on the res, and my mom and grandma never told me about these things. I'm pretty small and rabbit-like with how I act. Pretty much everything scares me, but given the chance, I won't hesitate to break someone's jaw. My girlfriend is 16 and mostly Russian. She usually puts herself in front of me to try to protect me if need be. These are important later on in the story.

In my town, there's a plot of land that I believe that may have once been a golf course. I go to this plot of land with my girlfriend, we'll call her Casey, and my friends. This piece of land has become overgrown after no attention for a few decades, and is almost a plot of woods. It has long grass, vines, bushes, and trees. It's always full of life too. Rabbits and squirrels in the spring and summer, deer foxes and raccoons in the fall and winter,

and it always has blue jays everywhere. It was a really beautiful sight all year long. We call this plot of land, Wonderland. Flanking Wonderland is a set of abandoned train tracks that goes all the way through the town. We call this the deer trail because we see loads of deer all along it every fall. In Wonderland, there's a small shed alongside one of the deer trails

that we call the devil's toy box, which overlooks the majority of Wonderland because of where it sits. Up on the hill is a circle of trees that we call the ark, because we're big fans of marble hornets and needed a name for it. So hopefully this sets the scene for you. Again, all important later on. This happened sometime two years ago. It was about a week before Halloween,

and I was walking home from school. Casey didn't join me like she usually did because she was sick that day, so it was just me. The way I walk home usually takes me down an alleyway near Wonderland, so I figured I'd stop in Devil's Toy Box to rest. I popped down inside and sat my stuff down as well. I took a moment to look around Wonderland

to enjoy the beautiful fall colors being lit up by the sun. Up on the hill, emerging from the ark, was a massive buck with these huge antlers. I just started to awe at the size of it. All at once, all of the blue jays stopped chirping, and the sun disappeared behind the clouds. There was a distinguishing stench in the air that I could only describe as burnt hair mixed with old dog crap.

It was completely awful. I gagged and struggled not to throw up while the deer snapped its head and looked at me. The movement was all wrong. Its head and neck moved, but the rest of it stayed completely still and rigid, kind of like a statue. I studied the buck further,

and saw its skin was loose and seemed to be just draped over its body. I also started to realize that it was bone thin, and I could see its ribs. Its eyes weren't the dark eyes of a deer. They were strangely human and bright yellow. As I grabbed my book bag and prepared to book it out of there, the thing stood up on its hind legs. I know that deer can stand on their back legs

to get a better look around, but I do know they can't walk for very long and sure as hell know they can't run like that. It started running at me. I heard an ear-piercing shriek that gives me chills to this day. It sounded like an infant's crying with a grown man's baritone screaming underneath, and it was all distorted. I threw my book bag over my shoulder and started running as fast as I could down the deer trail.

I could hear its hoof steps behind me. When I got about halfway down, I turned around to see if it was still following me. It was standing at the edge of the deer trail and just staring at me with those evil, evil eyes. I burned sage and smudged myself in my room as soon as I got it. got home. My room smelled for a week. The next day, Casey was back at school. As we were walking home, she noticed a set of deep deer hoof prints in the dirt next to the deer trail. Kate, she said as she looked from me to the hoof prints and back, what are these? I explained what happened the day before. As I talked, I could see her eyes growing wide. Let's go. She grabbed my hand

and pulled me along the tracks. The next time we went there, we brought sage bundles and other cleansing stuff. We haven't seen anything like that again after that. But the fact that something as evil as that thing was in a place of such serenity gives me chills. This has left me feeling extremely shook and I'd love some opinions, especially from someone with experience. Last year I had a very strange experience in the National Forest out in California. I was by myself on a road trip with my dog and I was driving pretty far into the Mendocino National Forest. I liked a camp in National parks and forests because it's isolated so my dog can roam and they're free of charge. A trade-off for the sketchy rough drives into the park sometimes and a lack of service assistance.

Anyway, I was driving up this dirt road, kind of curling up the mountain maybe around 5 p.m. It was very nice out, sunny and warm with a light breeze. Nothing serious happened, but I felt extremely uncomfortable driving into the area and that feeling didn't let up. Driving up the mountain, and I felt like I shouldn't stay there, and I even texted my boyfriend about it for as long as I could before my phone completely lost service. I was looking around for a sign of another person having been around the area lately, but didn't see anything.

I pulled over and got out of my car with my dog and looked over the edge, and noticed a dead squirrel and some broken glass mixed in with the dirt and gravel road. Yuka, my dog, starts growling slightly. She's vocal, but I've almost only ever seen her growl at other dogs. I did see her growl at a possum once, so it could be something she smelt, maybe. This place continued to make me feel quite on edge, but I pride myself on being an independent

traveler and backpacker, so I decided to continue at least a bit further with my grumbling pup to see if I could find a good place to camp. I continue to notice more dead animals. Keep in mind, no one is going more than five or ten miles an hour up this thing, and that's if there's anyone up there. I hear men's voices. They sound close and I think I should call out to them. So I stopped my car, but then I kind of freeze up and feel like I shouldn't.

I can't really make out what they're asking. I don't see any sign of people anywhere, and I get back into my car and continue to slowly drive forward and cautiously look for where the voices could be heard from. I've never ran into other people in the national park or forest when I've gone this deep in. The unsettling feeling grows about the voices, which have sort of come and gone a few times,

and I give up and begin to turn my car around. I honestly don't remember how Yuka was acting on the way down. I was scared and focused on getting out of there. I just distinctly remember being surprised at her grumbling when we were standing outside of my car. Kind of dangerously, I quickly went down the mountain and not seeing any sign of anyone. I decided to spring for luxury and get a hotel for the night.

I figured I was just fine. Huge and open spaces can be intimidating, I told myself. And the voices could have been echoing from somewhere off in the distance, and they just sounded close. Animals die, glass gets broken, nothing happened, cool. But I remember this place, it sticks with me.

Whenever I'm watching scary movies, if I'm walking my dog in the woods at night, nothing compares to that feeling I had driving up in the mountain, and it's honestly kind of interesting to me, as well as frightening. I recently happened across some information as well as some Native American lore

that made me extremely uneasy. Fast forward a year, I mentioned this place to a few people and the haunting vibes it gave me, but nothing much more. I googled the National Park once and didn't see anything, but didn't look much either. I like scary movies and things of that nature, hence my fascination in this little event. So my boyfriend and I were coming up on finishing our road trip just yesterday. We were in Wyoming for a wedding. There were only two to three hours left, and the sun had to set, so we decided to listen to some scary podcasts and YouTube videos.

We went from No Sleep Podcasts to X-Files and ended up on True Stories video dealing with a Native American lore. I'm half paying attention petting my dog, playing Pokemon on an emulator, and I hear the narrator mention Skinwalkers and Wendigows. Very briefly says what they are, and casually mentions they can mimic voices. I mean it when I had the most horrible chills I'd ever had in my life crawl down my spine, and I stare at my boyfriend and ask him if he remembers the National Forest. He says he does and reminds me that he texted me. I was probably close to a Skinwalker. He did.

I remember him saying that, but I didn't know much about their lore, and thought he was just being funny, like, yeah, Bigfoot is probably stalking you, or some other dad joke. And he was like, no. I mean, I was mostly joking, but I said it specifically because you said you were hearing voices that you couldn't find a trace of. I feel strange, and I start Googling Skinwalkers, etc. They are allegedly able to mimic human voices, and they would live in that sort of area.

It all matched up. Obviously, there's a ton of questionable information out there, but I tried to find more reputable websites and authentic experiences. I then specifically looked up missing persons in the area, and the first headline that catches my eye is, Another family goes missing in Mendocino. And I went through different websites and news articles of people going missing, but they are all a little hidden underneath a National Park website,

and pictures of trees. I remember looking up the forest about a year ago and didn't see anything and realize these stories didn't seem to be talked about much, which also piqued my intuition. It has also stated that well over 100 people in the past eight years have gone missing and have not been found,

on top of many which are found dead. It just has my intuition super spiked, remembering how unsafe I felt and how much I wanted to get out of there terrifies me, and I felt so uneasy about what I was hearing and due to this day. My dog and I are very close.

She was a stray that started following me one day, and I ended up bringing her home from Costa Rica. So her little growls along the way makes me feel like there was something wrong. Even though it was just a storytelling video, those stories originate from somewhere. I have done a lot of solo traveling both in and out of the country, and I have never had such a bad feeling,

on top of seeing an unnecessary amount of dead animals in national forests, which just seems strange. I don't think I'll be doing more solo traveling unless it's around civilization. I used to love going for night drives, but I never want to do it again. My friend and I would go for night drives all of the time. Sometimes Jamie and I would find a spot where we could see the stars really well and just lie back on the hood of his car.

Driving around at night, we've had some incredible conversations, and occasionally we see some really cool things. Driving is Jamie's thing. He loves it. Last night, Jamie was in an awful mood. He called me saying he needed to go for a ride and didn't want to be alone. But when he picked me up, he could barely talk to me. He was speeding, but he's a good driver, so I wasn't concerned. We got pretty deep into the countryside, and I didn't recognize the area at all.

We've been driving for a long time, though. At this point, it was just dirt roads and no streetlights. I suggested we go back, but Jamie says he couldn't go home right. right now, so we kept going. A while later, we were driving through the wooded area, and Jamie pulled over to announce he had to go to the bathroom. Don't go too far, I told him. Jamie and I had explored enough forests at night,

and I wasn't even slightly worried, and I thought he'd be back right away. I was looking down at my phone, scrolling through Reddit for what felt like a really long time. I looked up to see if I could see Jamie heading back, and I thought I saw a person standing straight ahead, about 20 feet in front of me. I flashed the car lights just to make sure.

And sure enough, a man was standing there staring at me. Once I flashed the lights, he started groaning, very loudly, and just kept staring. I immediately locked the car doors. We were in the middle of nowhere, and I hadn't seen another person or passing cars in ages. I called Jamie, but I could hear his phone ringing. He had left it in the car. My stomach dropped. There was no way it could take this long for him to.

go to the bathroom. He should have been back by now. I started looking out the passenger window, looking for him, making a silent deal with myself if he wasn't back in three minutes. I was going to call the police and drive away to somewhere safe. When I looked back straight ahead, I saw the man was only 10 feet away now, and instead of groaning, he was weeping, still staring very intensely at me. I decided to screw waiting three minutes and just take off when Jamie reappeared. The man stopped weeping. I unlocked the door for Jamie and let him into the car. Jamie looked super pale and very stone-faced. I started freaking out and screaming at him that we had to go, but he just sat there. Suddenly a bunch of people covered in body paint emerged from the trees. I started crying and

pleading with Jamie to start driving, but it was as if he couldn't hear me. The people set the man on fire. The man didn't make a noise, and the people started chanting. Jamie started howling with laughter. He then proceeded to turn the car around and we drove away. He was speeding faster than he had ever done before. I started to dial the police, but Jamie grabbed my phone. Don't call the police, or you'll be next. He then gave the phone back to me. After that, Jamie returned to being emotionless and refused to talk to me, but he was muttering a ton under his breath. I couldn't understand any of it, though. It didn't even sound English. I was too petrified to say or do anything. And Jamie dropped me off.

Since then, Jamie texted me every hour on the hour, saying, Do you want the fire to spread? I haven't responded to any of his texts yet. Something happened to Jamie in the woods. I'm sure of it. He sent me a new text a few minutes ago saying, Let's go for a drive. I want to show you something.

I don't know what to do. To start off, I'm not a believer in anything paranormal, magical, or voodoo. None of that. The extent of my creepy ghost-like or urban legend experiences, until now, had been through my friends, and most of them chalked it up to the usual. It was a cougar fox scream, not a woman's. The wind did that. It was just a messed up homeless guy stalking me, and then left it at that. But I cannot logically explain to myself what I just witnessed in any terms other than saying it was unnatural at best, or terrifyingly unworldly at worst.

So this all happened just a few hours ago when I decided to do something different after work and take a hike by this little park my shop is by. I'm a mechanic. It's something my wife loves to do, and I decided to take some trails she likes to go on. Now, the thing about this park is it's basically just an oval, some roads to look at the scenery, and a place to fish and dock boats in the lake nearby. But after that, it's mostly trails. The trails go out into the woods about 10 miles,

And after that, it's about a thousand acres of no man's land woods and blind cliffs owned by the state. People get lost, go missing all of the time because idiots think they can rough it. And my wife had her own stories of going off the trail for a second and getting instantly turned around. In my college days, I used to do the same thing, but not anymore since I've had my fair share of getting scared after getting lost in places like that. It's by the grace of God I could always find my way back, but it's never a way of the way. wise thing to do, even if you are confident in your navigation skills. I think you're getting the picture of the place that I was in. When I get there, I'm parked and I decided to take one of the relatively shorter routes, a two-mile trail, since it had been a while since I hiked the trails,

and I didn't have any gear on me. Plus, it would be dark soon. I grabbed a map from my office right by the start of all the trails, on the off chance I got lost or something, and thank God I did. I was pretty confident that getting lost wouldn't be that big of a deal, since one of the longer trails, also a round trail, about 10 miles made for camping on, went all the way around the parking lot, and my trail and my car being in the center of the whole thing. When in doubt, I could walk in any one direction and find it and get back home. So, starting off the hike, I wasn't worried, just ready to get some walking in, and then brag to my wife how I finally went out to see her favorite place. I'd say I was even excited. The weather was amazing. The wind was just the right speed,

and I would have something to talk about. I'd say I got about a quarter mile in before things got a little weird. It wasn't that there was anything visibly off or anything, just that I started to feel uncomfortable, kind of like a nagging feeling in the back of my mind saying, you should probably leave. I had already started and didn't really feel like turning around,

so I kept going, looking at wildlife, enjoying the view when I could, could and generally taking it slow. But that feeling never did go away. It was at the halfway point, at what my map said was the crest of the trail. That feeling got overwhelming. It was suffocating, like my whole body wanted to just up and run out of that perfectly fine looking trail, but I had already come so far, and there was no use in turning around since I was at the halfway point. I thought maybe I was just getting freaked out since I hadn't done it in a while, or maybe I was just having a panic attack from all the stress I'd been under for the last few days.

So, I decided to sit down and take a breather to calm myself down. It didn't. Around five minutes into me flipping through my phone and reading some random Reddit stories, I noticed how quiet the woods had gotten. The air was completely silent. There was literally nothing. You ever hear the phrase, silence can be deafening? Well, in that moment, it was so quiet I could hear my ears ring.

It hurt. so silent, and it unnerved me to no end. So I did what any husband does. I called my wife for guidance. The conversation went something like this, at full speaker volume since I was so desperate to clear the air. David, what's going on? She knew something was up because I rarely ever called, even for emergencies. Hey, don't worry. I'm going to be a bit late since I decided I was going to hike that two-mile loop today. But I had a question for you. What does it mean when the woods get like? Suddenly quiet. She went silent for a bit, freaking me out more.

Where are you on the trail? Like how far in? About a mile. Why? I want you to get up and grab a big rock or a sharp, long stick or something, and finish the trail as quickly as possible, but don't run. It's quiet because there's a predator around, maybe a bear or a cougar, something big at least.

I don't want to freak you out, but I want you to know that it probably already knows you're there. And if it's a cougar, it's probably been following you. Make it know you're there, and don't run. I'll drive up to the trail and meet you when you get out. She hung up before I could properly freak out. Rather than puking up my anxiety or running as fast as I could, I got a stick, broke some of it off so it'd be sharp and send a quick I love you, thanks, text to my wife. Our house is close, so I knew she'd be there in about 15 minutes or so, but it didn't calm me down, Not at all. For the next half hour, I'd slowed down to about a crawl,

as I looked around for whatever could be near me. All the while, the woods were still quiet. At this point, I was so anxious, I wanted to barf. And I might have, if I wasn't so paranoid, that closing my eyes just for a second would alert whatever was making the woods so quiet attack. So I just went on, looking over my shoulder every few seconds,

and stopping to strain my ears to hear if there was anything walking around me. For a long stretch of time, there wasn't. Still no sound. Still no wildlife. Still nothing. Just my heart racing. But as I went on to the trail into some thicker parts of the woods, I began to notice how my footsteps seemed to echo ever so slightly. It was hardly noticeable, and had I not been so on alert, I wouldn't have even registered it. But once I heard it, it was deafening. When I stopped to check behind me, though, there was nothing. At first, I thought I had just gotten so worked up that I was hearing things, that the quiet was messing with my head and my brain got bored, so I tried to ignore it, but after a while, I just couldn't. It was so unnerving that I started to play with it. I'd quicken my pace ever so slightly, stop, go, go nearly into a full sprint, and every time, an almost perfectly in-time replica would follow. I hated every second of it. It felt so unreal that I could feel my body begging me to just book it, but I couldn't.

If it really was a cougar, it'd get me. So I tried one last effort to see if it was really in my head or not. I took a few normal steps and then acted like I was about to put my foot down before I stopped, just above the leaves. Crunch. I had never gone so still in my life. I couldn't breathe as the sound of an extra footsteps echoed in my brain, and somehow I knew, just knew deep down, despite never being involved in this type of stuff,

that whatever was behind me was unnatural. For the longest time, I couldn't move, and sure as hell didn't want to look behind me. I'm 5'3, and wouldn't last a second. After what must have only been a few seconds, now that I think about it, I started walking again, faster this time. The echo admittedly didn't return, but I still had a suffocating sense of dread and terror pumping through my veins.

I only had a quarter mile left to go, and I was sure ready to get out of that place. I wasn't any less scared than I was, but at least I had the solace of still being in one piece and getting one step closer to my wife. I thought it was all over at this point, and that it was just going to be a moment of me having a freak out moment and laugh about it tomorrow. And, after being a few minutes of footstep free, and hearing my wife call my name a little ways up the trail, their relief washed over me had me thinking just that. I had been walking slow, slower than usual, so I wasn't even shocked that she had to come meet me. me on the trail. From the exit, it would only be about a 15-minute walk from her quick pace. She was the type of person to meet you if you were freaked out, even in the middle of nowhere.

What else was I supposed to suspect? So, I keep walking and hear her call me again. I reply with some, I'm coming, I'm here, I'm safe. Keep on following the trail. There was nothing that threw me off, not a single thing, so I just kept going. The only thing that I had even detected was off, was that no matter how much further I got, her voice didn't get any louder. It was odd, but I thought maybe she was trying to lead me to the exit, or thought I went off the trail or something. And when I heard her voice subtly switched from in front of me to my left, those suspicions were answered. At least they were for a split second. I was bleary from all that fear. I knew that, and when I remembered who was calling for me, I knew for a fact that that woman had learned her lesson

on getting lost in the woods. The last time had nearly been over a year ago, and she was lost for a whole night. She didn't go hiking for a few months after that and was so shaken up, and had to go to therapy for weeks because of it. She loved me, but she wouldn't go into the woods for me, not again. But what else could it be?

So, for a second, I just listened, as her voice subtly got closer, still calling my name. The more I listened, the otter I noticed it was. It was the same. Every single time she said it, it sounded exactly the same. Same intonation, same speed, everything. No other words but my name, none.

And it kept getting closer. Hun, is that you? Answer me, yes or no. I don't know why I asked that. I honestly don't, but I'm sure as hell glad I did. For about a second, it had stopped. Back to the silence, and I thought my heart was going to implode from the anticipation. It nearly did, when I was.

I heard the most curdling scream I had ever heard from a woman. It just kept going and going. There was only a stop, like for a gasp of air. But the sound never weakened or broke, like anyone in pain would. It was just an ongoing sound that would pause for a second and then just keep going. And in my panic, I booked it as fast as I possibly could, because all of the things I knew and I didn't, that thing wasn't my wife. Running at the speed, I was in a hurry.

I didn't even notice I went off the trail, since they weren't well cleared this time of year. and I didn't know I was lost until I knew I shouldn't have been out in the woods, but I couldn't stop. I didn't want to turn around and run back because that thing was still screeching, and it still wasn't getting any closer to me. I could hardly see from the tears in my eyes as I just kept running, bolting until my legs were nearly about to collapse, and until my lungs felt like they were being pierced. I hadn't even gone a full five minutes before I had to stop, with that screeching still behind me. There was nothing I could do. I was in the middle of a gigantic forest.

I had dropped my stick and something that wasn't a cougar, a bear, or a fox was following me. That 10-mile loop was at least a mile or two away from where I ran, and if that was my only bet, it would be dark by the time I found it. It didn't even matter since I was so out of breath. All I could do was hide, since the trails themselves were getting pretty messy, when they weren't all forest. I raced to find myself some rocks and ended up squeezing myself between them. Thinking back now, this was the stupidest thing I could have chosen to do, but in that moment, It was the best I had. I sat between those rocks holding my breath, sweating up an anxious, smelly storm, as my bug eyes looked around to see what I could see from my hiding spot. The screaming never did stop, but the footsteps returned. It was a very quiet, very subtle crunch, so predatory in nature. But I think the worst part of it all, the part that may never leave my mind, is that this thing's footsteps moved right behind me to the back end of the rock and totally covered me.

That screaming never got any louder. Even when it was right behind me, the scream stayed the exact same volume, until, out of nowhere, it just stopped on a dime. I heard the footsteps explore around for a long, long time, but eventually they two went far away and I couldn't hear them. I didn't dare leave my hiding spot for what I determined was about an hour, trembling and the light-headed as it got darker. When I finally pried myself out of the rock cheeks that saved me,

For that moment, I walked as quickly as I could towards the 10-mile loop, hoping to find it and some campers before dark. I made it to the trail just after dark, exploring for two hours, and found a ranger cabin just a little ways from where I started on. She had just been getting the missing person's call from my wife when I knocked on her door, pale as a ghost, scared. Before she took me back, which was thankfully a short drive on her four-wheeler, I asked if I could use her toilet and threw up more violently than I had ever have in my whole life. She didn't ask me

what happened, just took me back, and on the whole way from the cabin to the parking lot, holding onto her a lot more tightly than someone with dignity should. I had a distinct feeling of being watched. My wife nearly sobbed when she saw me. Five hours later to the parking lot that I was meant to be, the cops and the ranger checked over me and determined that though shaken up, I was fine. My wife and I left and she pulled over into a nearby gas station to calm herself down. As she looked me over, utterly silent. I thought you had gotten attacked by a cougar or something, David. All I could say was, it wasn't a cucker. The silence that she gave me then, the look on her face as she just stared at me, will never leave my mind. Before she said freakier stuff that I could manage to describe what I had just been through, I know.

I just got home about an hour ago, and I haven't spoken to my wife about it any further. We've just been quiet. I still have sticks in my hair, but I'm terrified to be alone. What did I just witness? This story takes place around a few years ago when my dad left town for a business trip. I've never told anyone this story, but I guess I now have. I used to live in a fairly wooded area, with about a two-story house in a small town in the United States. This house was kind of creepy, though.

I don't know how to exactly describe it, but it's always just settling, after being there for maybe decades. If you really shut up and have no source of sound, you can hear a noise, like a muffled crack, with a drag that lingers a small amount too long for comfort. But the story's not about that house.

It's about something even scarier. About five meters behind the house, it's nothing but forest for approximately three miles. I'm one of those people who is just absolutely fascinated by the wilderness, but never likes going out. Knowing that my dad was out for a business trip, and he thought I was adult enough to stay out of trouble whilst he was gone. I tried changing my ways and decided to go into those woods. Little did I know, that would be the biggest mistake of my life. It was approaching the late evening when I embarked on my journey.

I had a little caution in my step since I was deathly scared of mountain lions, snakes, coyotes, and the like. But as I went along some trails, I felt better and got more of a pep in my step. I even got confident enough to hike a bit away from the trail. Thing is, I kind of ended up getting lost. I started to panic. I tried to find my way back to the trails. Being a coward and the sensitive teen child I was, shaking in my sneakers was my first instinct.

Mind you, I was only 15 at the time. I started to walk around, growing increasingly anxious. The walking turned to running. The running turned to sprinting, and eventually the sprinting turned to sitting and crying. I was huddled up against a rock, knees to my chest, sobbing silently. This was it. These are going to be my last moments out here. I don't have the guts to get an animal, and I wouldn't know how to light a fire.

If it wasn't starvation, I'd definitely be taken by a vicious predator with malicious intent. It wouldn't be by natural causes, or in the military, or saving someone. No, I'd be gone because of my stupid decision. to go off of the path. I started to think about what it would be like. Would I be reincarnated? Would I be in an empty void for nothing for all eternity? Would I be with God in heaven until the end of time?

And even if I went to heaven, would it be for the better? I was raised in a Christian household and raised to know heaven as a paradise. But there was something scratching at the back of my head. Maybe heaven wasn't a great place as it was shocked up to be. Stuck in my own thoughts, I slowly slipped into a deep sleep, scared and waiting for the inevitable. Maybe I would go in my sleep. Hopefully it would be painless, except I woke up.

It was late at night, but the worst part was, the ear-splitting screech that seemed to be a few feet away from me. The screech was just something incomparably terrifying. It sounded like a shriek. When you would hear from a woman that saw something scary in a horror movie, but something was off. It sounded like a wounded animal at the exact same time.

I don't know if whatever it was got the animal, or if that was the noise it just made. I didn't want to stick around to find out. Fighter flight was activated. I jolted up and ran as fast as I could in whichever direction was opposite of the noise. Due to my panic state, I ended up running so fast I didn't look where I was going and tripped over a log. I face planted into the dirt. I didn't know what happened other than I could taste the dirt and leaves in my mouth.

I spat out what I could and when I looked up, I was in shock. I was always a skeptic, but I always loved hearing about folklore and mythical beasts. I looked at the creature. Its eyes were sunking into its head. Its body withered to the point of amaciation, to where you could see the bones under its skin. Its body color was ash gray, lips tattered, its body emitting the scent that which I could only describe as the fresh scent of decay. I just stared, and based on this thing's appearance, it was the face of a wendigo. My body froze as I looked into its eyes. It had no eyes. That's what made me panic. staring into a horrifying creature that was just itching to tear me to shreds. I thought of my family. I never really liked them, but I wanted to see them. As I was thinking, I noticed that the Wendigo was already leaping towards me, and that's when I saw my short life flashed before my eyes.

My elementary years, my family, middle school years. My family was still all I could think of. I wasn't even supposed to be out there, and by some miracle, I was able to move. I scrambled onto my feet, but I felt a sharp sting on my back. I didn't care. Adrenaline pumped through me. I ran faster than I thought humanly possible, and by some miracle,

I guess it lost interest or something, because after a while of running, I came across a trail with a few people trying to investigate the screech I heard a while back. Before I started running, they saw me, and they watched as I collapsed. A wound in my shoulder and my shirt ripped. They asked if I was okay,

as one of them patched my shoulder up with the bandages in their first aid kit. I explained what happened. Their original plan was to call an ambulance, but I'd hold them not to. It would be stupid. My family would scold me. No one would believe me, and I had a phobia of hospitals. And thinking about the creature, the Wendigo, made me think about death, and knowing that there

would be a lot of that in a hospital, I wouldn't be able to bear going. I'm not sure if they believe me, but they helped me to my house. I didn't feel safe there, though. I asked if they could escort me to my neighbors, which was maybe a few hundred meters away. It took me a bit to realize that this thing I felt, it may have been a claw, a claw from a wendigo. I didn't care. I made it out alive. I made it to my neighbor's safe and I haven't had an incident yet. I'm still waiting. I feel like it will come back. It felt weird how it just left me alone, knowing that, I didn't get too much sleep that night. It scares me to even think

about the incident. And even now and then, I can hear the same screech, yet it's usually so quiet, so quiet to the point I can barely hear it, and it almost sounds like the cracks in my old house. This story recollects what happened during the Navajo Nation Fair season of 2015. My roommate and her boyfriend decided to head back to the reservation to take part in the festivities, rodeo, parade, and carnival. My roommate was the offspring of divorced parents and spent her teenage years half on the reservation in Window Rock, Arizona, with her mother, and half with her father in Phoenix. She was raised as a devout Catholic, even attending Catholic school. Nothing paranormal had ever occurred in her life up until this point. Her boyfriend was an urban Navajo who was a Christian,

having been born and raised off the reservation in Phoenix, Arizona. I am to clarify their religious ideologies and affiliations, because neither of them believed in Navajo traditionalism or ghost stories. Late one evening, after both of them got off work, they decided to head out, to make the most of their three-day weekend. My roommate made prior accommodations with a good friend from high school. When my roommate was a young adult, her mother decided to move away from the res. If her mother still lived in Window Rock, she would have simply stayed there. The accommodations were as follows. Her good friend opted to stay close to relatives and offered her a two-bedroom two-bath manufacturer at home at her disposal. The trailer was located off the road between St. Michael's

and the first four-way intersection, when you are heading towards Window Rock from Summit. Many have called it the back road to St. Michael's, the old original township of St. Michael's, that is. As you can imagine, they arrived to their Navajo Fair B&B pretty late. The trailer was off to the right of the main highway and was situated at the foot of a large rolling hill. There was no streetlights.

First order of business, my roommate calls her friend to let her know they arrive safely. They walk up to the trailer and unlock the door and give themselves a tour of their accommodations. They turned on all the lights in every room they toured. My roommate had driven the entirety of the journey home, so she was a bit more fatigued than her partner. She asked him to get the luggage from the car. It was a hatchback.

The car was parked about 40 feet away. She explained to me that it had rained some weeks before, and the dirt road leading up to the house was wrecked. To avoid bottoming out, she parked on level ground. She walks into the guest room and her boyfriend is already laid out on the bed. She pleads with him to go get the luggage, and most importantly, her makeup bag,

so she can remove her makeup before bed. She compromises with them that she'll go out with him if he does the heavy lifting. She doesn't want to put her heels back on, so she decides to watch him from the porch. Yes, heels. She worked at a bank and always had to dress professionally, in a pantsuit and heels.

So she is standing on the top stair of the small three-stair porch, with the front door slightly adjoined. her hand on the doorknob. Her boyfriend walks off into the pitch black. The light from his phone serves as the only beacon of light, signaling his location. As she watches as light grow dimmer and smaller in the distance, she hears what seems to be a pack of dogs howling and barking.

She said it sounded like a rumble, a pack of feral dogs or coyotes fighting. The pack of dogs come barreling down the large hill behind the trailer. She hears a loud thud against the back wall of the trailer. The thud was so loud that she heard that she heard the the rattling of picture frames that were hanging. At this point, fear begins to creep in her mind. She calls out to her boyfriend, and here's no response. She shouts for him once again. That's when she realizes the dogs have all gone silent, all at once in a fluid succession of motions. She said that something from inside her trailer slams the front door, so fast that it

creates a gust of wind. She said that if she had been holding onto the doorknob, it would have knocked her off the landing off the front steps. The porch light flickers and the then goes dead. She is standing there barefoot, in the darkness. She tries to open the door and retreat back into the trailer. She was able to turn the doorknob until it clicked. The door wasn't locked. Something heavy was pressed up against the flimsy manufactured hollow cord door from inside. At this point, she said she didn't realize she was crying at the brink of an anxiety attack. Adrenaline took over her and she began throwing herself and all of her weight against the door. She saw it inch open, and the light from inside flooded the doorway for a split second

before it slammed shut in retaliation. Fight or flight. She decides to run barefoot into the darkness to find her boyfriend. His account. He leaves his girlfriend at the top of the front door steps as he walks off into the dark, with only his phone serving as a flashlight. He's being very careful where he steps because the earth is turned up and twisted and gnarled. Deep ruts and grooves from a vehicle driving in the mud,

before it hardens into crust. He is afraid he might twist his ankle. He too hears the frenzied howls and barks of the dogs. He turns around to look at where the sounds are coming from. In the distance, he sees the faint light of the porch go off. He rationalizes to himself that the barking dogs frightened his girlfriend, and in fear she ran inside and unintentionally turned off the porch light. He continues walking in the direction of the car.

He hears a thud of a heavy footsteps behind him, mimicking his own stride. not exactly in tune with his, following a split second after his own thud, almost echoing intentionally. Figuring it might be his frightened girlfriend running out to him, he calls out to her to no avail. He sees a dim flicker in the distance, the light from his phone bouncing off the reflectors of the tail lights of the car. His body floods with relief. The relief quickly drains to despair. His phone erratically stops working and won't turn on. His heartbeat almost beats out of his chest. How could this be. He wasn't on his phone the entire drive back. It was fully charged. He takes a few urgent

paces towards where the car was before the lights turned off. His palms are sweaty, and he swears he could feel his heart pounding through his hands. He desperately reaches into his pockets for his car keys. He begins frantically pressing all of the buttons, the lock, unlock, panic, and open hatchback buttons. Nothing. He even stretches out his hands in the dark as pressing the buttons, thinking that he is on the cusp of the electronic radius of the vehicle to respond. Still nothing. The footsteps behind him hastened and almost sounded like he was going to be charged from the back. He is too terrified to look back. At this point, he realizes the dread that he feels in the pit of his stomach means it's something unnatural. His shoulders drop as he instinctively

braces for some sort of impact. The sound of heavy footsteps would indicate that he would have been hit by now. Nothing. The footsteps loudly led directly up to him. to his heels and nothing. He opens his eyes and hears something like a coin drop and hit the top of his car. He turns around to the patter of bare feet on the dirt road. His girlfriend charges into him, full embrace, hugging him. Mind you, his feet stayed planted. He doesn't take one step forward or back.

The car keys are still in his hands, his thumb presses down. A loud click, the familiar sound of the hatchback opening, and the lights from inside the car quickly floods their immediate surroundings. They grab their luggage and a pair of flip-flops from the car and slowly make their way back to the trailer. Oddly, the front porch light was on now. My roommate makes her boyfriend go inside and check all of the rooms before she goes back in. He opens the door with ease. He checks each room meticulously.

There is no one inside. All of the windows still locked from the inside. I have never retold this account to anyone, but thought I would finally share it before time and life erases the details from my memory. Once in the safety of their trailer, her boyfriend pulled out his cell phone and turned it on to the exact same battery percentage. They corroborate their experiences to recount what happened to each other. Both of them are dumbfounded at the fact that they were shouting at the top of their lungs for each other at one time or another, but neither of them said they heard the others yelling. Growing up on the res, you hear your fair share of Skinwalker and ghost stories,

but this was the first time I heard one where the perpetrator manipulated electronics, to a great extent, or even at all. It was also the first case where the perpetrator manipulated sound waves. Both of them swore that they were easily an earshot of each other, but weren't allowed to hear each other's cries. There were no structures or trees between them, obstructing the sound waves. He had heard the pack of dogs, but wasn't allowed to hear her screaming out for him. What also spurred me is that this massive amount of questioning from some Reddit users,

if they exist, why haven't they been filmed or caught on camera? Skinwalkers are just as modern as you and me. Wicked as much as they may be, they are not stupid to deal with smartphones and technological advances as much as anyone. They walk the world as normal people during the day. This is an experience my mom and dad had that happened in December of 2018. They were coming back from dining out and pulled over in the driveway and parked. The area where they live is moderately wooded in a large plot of land, about 20 acres. They got out of their car and started walking up to the door,

when they heard a blood-curdling scream coming from only 10 feet away from them. Not only was the scream terrifying, but it was extremely loud. My dad is a state trooper and served in the U.S. Marine Corps, so not much actually scares him. He's the guy to watch a horror movie at 3 a.m. with all the lights off and the curtains open. However, that night, he said he was genuinely terrified. They snapped out of their trance and ran inside. He came back out with his gun and his patrol car and started checking around the area. He shined his spotlight down into the pasture and around the property, but couldn't find anything.

The fact that he did this was alarming because he would never pull out a gun if he was joking. I've only ever actually seen him pull out a gun two other times in my life. Only about a week after I came home from college for winter break, I sat on the porch late one evening drinking coffee. It was pretty cold and I was reading a book when I heard something eerie coming from from the pasture to the east of my house. It sounded like creaking, but there was no wind blowing, and I know the area clearly,

and there wasn't a hanging branch or anything for that matter that would justify the sound. Even though it creeped me out, I refused to think anything of it and brushed it off as strange, but explainable. Thoroughly chilled, I stopped reading my book because of bad lighting and went inside. After a while, I found I forgot my book outside

and went out to grab it. This time, I heard a low, Poor howl. The only canine creatures that live in this place are coyotes, and when you hear them, it's a mixture of yips and short, pitchy howls. Hearing it and having my fears proved that it was some other worldly being, I grabbed my book and ran inside. About 20 minutes later, my brother comes home from a friend's house. He walks in and doesn't say anything other than hey. I tell him about what I experienced. To my surprise, he said he heard the exact same thing just a couple minutes earlier when he was walking inside. The sound had moved from its previous location southwest of my position, and was now to the northwest corner of the property. He said the sound was long, deep, but poor or weak, kind of like the one I heard.

My brother seemed more spooked with his encounter than I did with mine. He said that the duration was so long, and then just sounded very fake, like a poor imitation. After that, there wasn't any more sightings the entire time I was home. It's since been ruled out as a deer, since we have a lot of. of them, and they don't make strange noises like that. But after reading through Reddit, I feel like this may be a skinwalker issue, or something of the sort. We do live near a spot where Native Americans hold their rituals, and there is a house in our neighborhood that was built on a Native American burial ground, so it wouldn't be a surprise to me that this may be the case. I have experienced

other strange sounds and being whistled at in the dark, but no sightings so far. My aunt told me this story. We are related by marriage, so she has a whole new set of Skinwalker stories that I would like to share with you. This story took place when she was a child. My aunt's family lived in a community about 20 miles south of Gallup, New Mexico. The area is far different from where I live. My house is surrounded by desert and you don't really see trees until you move into the canyon. Breadsprings is a forested area and where our story takes place. Like many people on the reservation, my aunt aunt's family didn't have running water or electricity, so in order to have water, they would have to drive into town and haul water back in large containers. The containers are huge and easily

fit in the bed of the truck. Her family would place two containers on a long flatbed trailer to make the best of each trip. Her family went into Gallup, filled up the containers, and went into town to do other types of business. Back then, seatbelt laws weren't so strict, and so my aunt and her siblings sat in the bed of the trucks as they went around town. It began to get dark, and so the family started to go back home. Most roads weren't paved, so they had to drive carefully because of the attached trailer. The lights of the town faded away in the distance, and soon the vehicle was surrounded in darkness. They drove, and the kids sat in the back and talked amongst themselves. That was until my aunt noticed something. A figure was crouched by the

farthest water container on the flatbed. The truck wasn't barreling down the road. but it was going at a speed that it would be impossible for someone to run and jump on. My aunt nudged her siblings, and they all paused to look at the dark figure. They sat silently and squinted their eyes to look. It was too dark to really make anything out, and so they ignored her and continued to talk. My aunt kept her eye on the figure and pulled hard on the sleeve of her brother, when the figure began to crawl over to one of the water containers. The kids all stopped and watched in horror as the figure began to move carefully over the second container. My aunt said the figure looked like a person. However, the limbs

were abnormally long. These long limbs pulled its body closer to the kids. At this point, they began to scream and cry. They banged on the window of the truck. At this time, the creature was reaching for the tailgate of the truck. Due to the huge commotion that was now going on in the bed of the truck, the driver slammed on the brakes. The creature hit the tailgate and fell down between the truck and the trailer. The driver rolled down the window and asked what was going on. The kid screamed at the driver to go. They weren't sure they were safe until they saw the trailer move up and down, as if it ran over something large.

When my aunt told me this story, I sat in disbelief. She told me that she was uncomfortable when this thing was crawling on the trailer. But true fear rang through her body when she saw its eyes. I asked her what she meant. She said they were like teddy bear eyes. I didn't quite understand what that meant until I pressed further. She said the eyes were shiny. When you shine the light in the eyes of an animal, they reflect back.

The brake lights were shining, and whatever they saw that night, had eyes that glowed back. I'm going to be honest. I already wrote this out one time and deleted it, because I'm honestly unnerved about posting it. On one hand, it's been 16 years since it all went down, and the primary Skinwalker in question is locally dead, as she was very old when it occurred. On the other hand, I was also silenced a long time ago for talking too much, so here's try too. The area that we lived in initially was slightly out of town, a neighborhood near a park that was a sacred site to the tribe. Because of its location, it was a bit isolated and the homes were all company owned.

Most of them had stood empty for who knows how long, but the company my SO worked for at the time had just started opening them up for their employees. There were maybe 15 homes in this little pocket neighborhood with lots of space between them, and only three of them had anyone living in them, including ours. On our street, there was a single empty house across from us, some basketball courts next door and up the street, an empty house next door, and an occupied home at the top of the road, with its back to the park. Streets out on the res are pretty dark, even in neighborhoods.

For this one long road, there was just two street lights, one at the bottom of the road and one at the top. Being in the middle, it was quite dark and pretty awesome for stargazing. Our house was nestled at the bottom of a steep slope, so the road in front of it was up on about a six-foot ridge. I'd been out there for less than a year when it all started. I was a smoker, and so in the evening, I'd go outside and sit on my bench, smoke a cigarette, and bounced between looking at the stars and checking around my feet for scorpions. The first thing that I ever noticed was hearing a kind of mad, chaotic flute song. It sounded like somebody had handed a recorder to a toddler, and that's how I rationalized it.

Some poor parents in this practically empty neighborhood had given their kid a recorder and were being tortured with it. I kind of laughed at their imagined misery and didn't think much of it. The next night, around 9.30, again, the same thing happened, I heard the flute, laughed at the poor parents and didn't think much else of it, and the same night after that. On the fourth night, though, I was up later than usual, much later, and went outside to have a cigarette. I heard a strange sound come from where the basketball courts were, next door, but I couldn't figure out if it came from a small pocket of trees

between me and the court, or the court itself. It sounded very human, so I decided to call it a night and go to bed, The following night, I went outside for a cigarette and was sitting there when I saw something small and distinct moving through the trees. But on the road, I sat there smoking and watching it, trying to figure out what it was. I wasn't too worried because my S.O. was awake. And in the front room with his door open, so if anything was going to make sounds at me, he would be there in a second. Whatever it was, didn't look human.

It was far too small and low to the ground. so I just watched it, curious to see what it was. Its fur was very light-colored, and when it cleared the trees, it started to casually continue up the road in front of my house. I figured it had to be a cat because of its size and color of its fur. There was no way it could be anything else, and on top of it, its fur was so clean.

To me, it looked like somebody's cat had gotten out of their house. I was still pretty new to the res and didn't realize that most Navajos don't have cats in the house. I got worried about that as I watched it walk up the road because the house of the family on the top of the road had some big dogs. So I got up, put my cigarette out, and decided an intervention was in order. I made my way up the driveway and slowly tried to catch up with the cat because I didn't want to scare it off and send it running straight into the dogs.

There didn't seem to be much of a rush, though, as the cat had taken to meandering on the road ahead of me, so I started calling it softly, trying to coax it over to me so I could rescue the poor thing. I got within 10 feet of it. However, I realized that there was some serious problems with this cat. It had no tail, and its body was lumpy and odd. It looked like it was floating above the ground instead of walking,

and its legs swung back and forth rhythmically instead of stepping. The head didn't even appear to have ears. I felt absolute terror, as I had no idea what I was looking at, because this thing was so not right. I ran back down the road, down my driveway, and had my hand on the screen door to go inside. When I stopped myself and turned back to look at it one more time, the Skinwalker had stopped where we had just been

and was just sitting there with the ridge and the chain link fence between us. Dumb me. And the screen door right there to run inside. I figured it was safe to keep watching it and tried to figure out what it was. I let the screen door go and turn to. to watch. After a few seconds, the Skinwalker started to walk its way up the road again, towards the house at the top. Just before it got to where the light from the streetlight shone down

though, it stopped at the dim light and started to roll around furiously in the clay alongside the road. All I could see was fur and dust, but then it stopped and rose up, this time appearing much larger than the cat before, with its fur all dusty from the dirt. It moved into the light, and that's when I saw it was an elderly woman, under a skin that covered up the top of her head and ran down her back. She slowly walked on all fours until she positioned directly under the street light, and then, crouched down to stare at me. I don't know how long we stared at each other, but at that point, my S.O. spotted me outside the door, totally frozen, and came out to investigate. I didn't say a word, and he looked over to where I was staring, uttered some scared

obscenities, grabbed me and dragged me into my house, bolting the door behind us. He was Navajo, and he was pretty upset that I was gawking at a skinwalker, instead of running inside and locking the door behind me, like a sensible person. He was even more livid when he found out that I had actually thought it was a cat and tried to capture it. Nice moves on my part. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night, and had to deal with my friends, and even my own mother, who knew I've never done drugs or drinking, implying that I somehow either got high or drunk to experience this. Thanks, Mom. The rules totally changed after that night.

I wasn't allowed to go outside at night anymore without my S.O. And never, after he went to bed. On our next visit, shortly after this, we were eating dinner in the kitchen, when my cat, very uncharacteristically, jumped at me, climbed on top of my shoulder, and started hissing and growling at something behind me. The only thing behind me was the laundry room with a small window when my S.O. and eldest saw a pasty, globy white face of a skinwalker peering through it, watching us eat dinner. All we could really do is just shut the door to the laundry room and not go outside that night at all. Out on the res where we were

at, the garbage cans were kept in these elevated cages to keep animals, especially wild dogs, from knocking them over. The next morning we came to find out our garbage cans and that completely lifted out of the cages, and our garbage was all over the road. When we put them back, we spotted dusty mountain lion tracks on top of one of the lids. To me, this was really interesting

because it wasn't like a random collection of paws like you'd imagine. They were neatly lined up. They were definitely not legitimate animal tracks, but more like something stomped on top of it with a mountain lion paw. It was at this point my S.O. decided that we needed to contact a medicine man.

What we didn't know at the time was that, during all of this, my eldest had woken up in the middle of the night, and thought he heard me up, so he turned on his light to come see me. It took him at least 15 years to tell me about this, but apparently, when he came out of his room, he realized our door was shut and the lights were all off in the house. He looked down the hall and saw two yellow, glowing eyes. He did what any six-year-old would do in that situation.

He went back to his room, shut the door, door and hit under his covers. Anyways, my S.O. called his uncle, whose father was a medicine man, and told him that we were getting visited by Skinwalkers. Our medicine man was a crystal gaser and singer, and that was really interesting. We didn't tell him anything about what we had seen at all, but somehow we knew everything. He knew that I had seen a very unusual colored fur, and told us that the Skinwalker that I had seen was actually head of the local Skinwalkers. She was very old, and the only one that had the right to wear that fur. Her purpose out there that night was to teach two young skinwalkers,

the art of skin walking, and there was a fourth skinwalker there to guard the children, who was a mountain lion. Unfortunately for us, because I reacted the way I did, this elderly skinwalker decided that I must have some sort of power that she had not seen before, and so there was nothing that we could do

because she was now interested in me. She wanted to find out what my power was, and if I posed any threat to her, and if I didn't, then she wouldn't kill me. Lucky for me, I didn't have a power other than equal measures of object stupidity and curiosity. Unlucky for us, because of this, she never figured out what my power was, and maybe she was resentful of the fact that I didn't get completely duped or rush inside the house after that. It didn't matter what house we lived in on the reservation.

The flute would start up, and skinwalkers would show up after. note, this story happened to a very close friend of mine. I found it so interesting and I wanted to share it. It's written in his perspective. This incident occurred sometime in the fall of 2006. I grew up in a secluded part of Ohio. My house had fairly dense woods located directly behind it. As a child, I had a passion for exploring.

I especially loved exploring those woods. It was my favorite place to be. to be. Prior to the incident, I had wandered through those woods many times, always with my mother's permission. There was one tree in particular that I frequently enjoyed to climb, usually about to the halfway mark, so I could perch myself on one of the heavier branches and just relax as I listened to the peaceful sounds of nature. Climbing that tree for the first time was quite an accomplishment. From that position, I could partially see the back of my house. On that day, after a fair amount of exploring, I carefully scaled my favorite tree. I seated myself on a sturdy branch and took in the

view. Naturally, being in late October, the sun inevitably began to set within a few minutes. I always felt a little sadden to see the darkness approaching. The woods were more like my sanctuary. I could entertain myself out there for hours. When the darkness began to fall, however, my mother would stand at the edge of the woods and call my name until I obediently returned home, so not to be stranded out there after dark. After watching the sun until I could no longer see it, I begin my descent down the tree. I was nearly at the bottom when I heard my mother's familiar voice,

calling my name. I thought nothing of it at first, as this routine had occurred plenty of times before. Then I realized something strange as my mother's feet touched the ground. My mother's voice was coming from behind me, deeper in the woods, rather than towards the entrance where she always stood when she was calling me home.

My mom had never entered those woods before. I was eager to find her and show her all of my favorite spots before it grew too dark. That's when I realized something was off. How could she have gone into the woods ahead of me? Certainly, I could have missed her. But as I said, she never entered those woods.

She continued calling my name, but there was something strange about it. She sounded absolutely frantic, almost angry, fearing that I was in trouble for, for reasons currently unknown, I froze in place. As her voice drew closer, I squinted my eyes to see if I could locate her and determine exactly how angry or upset she appeared to be. However, I didn't see anyone or anything unusual.

Suddenly, I heard her voice calling my name from the direction of my house, sounding much calmer. Seconds later, from somewhere within the woods yet again, it wasn't an echo. I wasn't imagining things. I was literally hearing her beckoning me from the edge of our backyard, as well as ahead of me. My leg suddenly turned to jelly. I couldn't quite comprehend what was going on.

Come here, right now! The voice that I originally believed to be her screamed just ahead. I realized that whoever, or whatever was mimicking my mother, was drawing closer. I didn't question which voice was actually my mother's, as there was something about the way it sounded that unnerved me, terrified of what I would see if I stood there much longer, I turned around and ran towards the exit of the woods, as quickly as my lakes could possibly carry me.

It was amazing that I didn't trip over anything in my hustle. Even though my house wasn't very far away from where I had been standing, those woods have never seemed larger to me than they did in that moment. From behind me, my mother's voice continued to call my name, now sounding desperate. Panic set in as my actual mother finally came into view, waiting patiently as she usually did until I returned home. In my frightened state, I absolutely refused to look back.

As soon as I was out of the woods and in the backyard next to my mother, the other voice was suddenly gone. Rather than fading away, it seemed to stop the very moment I stepped foot into my backyard. I must have looked as frightened as I felt because my mother asked me what was wrong. Slowly but surely, my panic subsided. I didn't say anything until we were safely inside of the house, with our doors locked. I asked my mother if she had entered the woods.

Appearing confused by my question, she told me that of course she hadn't. With that confirmation, I hesitantly asked her if she had heard anyone else calling my name and yelling. The answer to that question was also no. Although I was still very much shaken up, I managed to explain everything

that happened as clearly and rationally as possible. My mother was surprisingly nonchalant about the whole situation, explaining that I must have imagined it. that I was spending too much time out there by myself. The incident in those woods have stayed with me to this day. I can still hear that voice as clear as bell. Whoever, or whatever was calling my name,

sounded exactly like my mother, but I know it wasn't her. Not only was she waiting for me outside, but the voice also sounded strange in a way that I still can't fully explain. I didn't go back into the woods until I was 17 years old, and even then, I never hung around for long.

I have carefully gone over every possible explanation, but none of them seem entirely plausible. It certainly wasn't my mother playing a prank. There was no way that she could have pulled it off, not to mention the fact that she'd never been one to play pranks. I also highly doubt it was anyone else, because as I stated before, we lived in a secluded area.

The closest neighbor was at least a mile away, and I wasn't personally acquainted with any of them. How could they have known my name and where to find me? We've since moved out of that house, but my mother and I occasionally discussed the incident. She still claims she had never heard or saw anything unusual out there. I know it probably shouldn't, but what happened in those woods continues to bother me.

I spent many hours out there prior to that day and never had anything out of the ordinary occur. The best explanation I have at this point is a doppelganger, or possibly a skinwalker. but I'm unsure. If anyone has any possible explanation as to what might have happened, I'd love to hear it.

Thank you for listening. My aunt told me this story. We are related by marriage, so she has a whole new set of Skinwalker stories that I would like to share with you. This story took place when she was a child. My aunt's family lived in a community about 20 miles south of Gallup, New Mexico.

The area is far different from where I live. My house is surrounded by desert and you don't really see trees until you move into the canyon. Bread Springs is a forested area and where our story takes place. Like many people on the reservation, my aunt's family didn't have running water or electricity, so in order to have water, they would have to drive into town and haul water back in large containers. The containers are huge and easily fit in the bed of the truck. Her family would place two containers on a long flatbed trailer to make the best of each trip. Her family went into Gallup, filled up the containers, and went into town to do other types of business.

Back then, seatbelt laws weren't so strict, and so my aunt and her siblings sat in the bed of the trucks as they went around town. It began to get dark, and so the family started to go back home. Most roads weren't paved, so they had to drive carefully because of the attached trailer. The lights of the town faded away in the distance, and soon the vehicle was surrounded in darkness. They drove and the kids sat in the back and talked amongst themselves. That was until my aunt noticed something. A figure was crouched by the farthest water container on the flatbed. The truck wasn't barreling down the road,

but it was going at a speed that it would be impossible for someone to run and jump on. My aunt nudged her siblings, and they all paused to look at the dark figure. They sat silently and squinted their eyes to look. It was too dark to really make anything out, and so they ignored her and continued to talk. My aunt kept her eye on the figure and pulled hard on the sleeve of her brother when the figure began to crawl over to one of the water containers. The kids all stopped and watched in horror as the figure began to move carefully over the second container. My aunt said the figure looked like a person. However, the limbs were abnormally long.

These long limbs pulled its body closer to the kids. At this point, they began to scream and cry. They banged on the window of the truck. At this time, the creature was reaching for the tailgate of the truck. Due to the huge commotion that was now going on in the bed of the truck, the driver slammed on the brakes. The creature hit the tailgate and fell down between the truck and the trailer. The driver rolled down the window and asked what was going on. The kids screamed at the driver to go.

They weren't sure they were safe until they saw the trailer move up and down, as if it ran over something large. When my aunt told me this story, I sat in disbelief. She told me that she was uncomfortable when this thing was crawling on the trailer. But true fear rang through her body when she said, saw its eyes. I asked her what she meant. She said they were like teddy bear eyes. I didn't quite understand what that meant until I pressed further.

She said the eyes were shiny. When you shine the light in the eyes of an animal, they reflect back. The brake lights were shining, and whatever they saw that night had eyes that glowed back. My grandma was a practitioner of native medicine and ceremonies. She was what the Navajo people call a crystal gazer. People would often come and visit her and ask her for healing or causes of their ailments. At times, people would ask her to help with protection from being attacked by evil entities. My grandma used to teach my aunt and her granddaughter the rituals and ceremonies, much like

an apprenticeship. My cousin was one such person my grandma had chosen to teach her shamanistic rituals. She would tell me the weirdest and scariest stories ever. One of the stories she told me was about a pesky skin walker that attacked a neighbor of my parents. The Skinwalker would go over to their homestead and tap on the windows, open the horse corral, knock over water barrels, and just be a pest to the family. It was thought that the Skinwalker had been sent because of a jealous man was infatuated with the girl that lived there, and she had refused to date a certain person. That family had visited my grandparents and had asked for help, but my grandma was

reluctant. A few days later, the Skinwalker came back, and this time it harassed the sheep herder. It's a His attack was relentless, and the sheep herder was frightened and ran over to the family's house in the middle of the night. The father of the house told the sheepherder to calm down and go back to his house. The sheepherder kept saying it was calling his name, and he wanted it to stop. The father walked the sheepherder back to his house and walked around and didn't see anything unusual. The next morning the sheep herder didn't come over for breakfast, and the father went over to

check on the sheepherder. He didn't find him there. the front door was wide open. The father started to look for the sheep herder. It wasn't long until he found him. The sheepherder was found strangulated by a barbed wire fence that was used at the sheep corral. The sheep were also gone, more than likely from the barbed wire that was taken off of the fence. The family was distraught and visiting my grandma for help. My cousin told me about the ceremony they performed and got rid of the Skinwalker. She said the next morning they gathered some ingredients. Navajo Ceremonial Basket and a Crystal Arrowhead.

She said that in the early morning, before the sunrise, they started the ceremony. She held the basket, and the Arrowhead was buried under the ingredients. And while my grandma was singing, the Arrowhead started to rise and levitate above the basket and flew out. They kept singing until the sun came up, and my cousin asked me where the Arrowhead went. My grandma told her that the Arrowhead took care of the Skinwalker that was terrorizing the family. My cousin told me that the family had been freed from the Skinwalker's curse, and they wouldn't have to worry about it again. This is a story my family told me when I was growing up.

We live in a rural community on the Navajo Reservation. My aunt and her two brothers were home alone while my grandparents had left for the evening to attend a chapter house meeting. They were in the house and like many people from the reservation, they didn't have electricity. It had been dark outside for about an hour and my aunt and uncles were getting ready for bed. Outside they heard noises as if something was moving things around. My oldest uncle went to look out the front window and saw a figure by the truck. This was immensely out of the ordinary because the closest neighbor was miles away. Whatever it was opened the truck door and began to dig through the personal items that my family had left in the vehicle. My aunt and uncles were frightened by the sight and knew they should take action. They took out a rifle

and all steadied themselves to hold it up. They flung open the door and aimed it at the dark figure. The figure turned around and started to walk towards them, totally unfazed. My uncle pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The figure drew closer, and my aunt began to smell something like a rotting corpse. It was so strong, it made her gag. My uncle continued to pull the trigger with no luck, and the figure came closer and closer.

Off in the distance, headlights were coming up the road. My grandparents were returning. The figure looked towards the lights and started to move away and tucked itself behind a tree near the house. My oldest uncle ran towards the truck. My grandfather got out of the car and my uncle pointed to the tree. The thing was poking its head out to observe what they were doing. My grandfather ran into the house over the stove and grabbed a handful of ashes and rubbed it over the gun and bullet and placed it into the chamber. He walked out onto the porch and fired towards the tree.

Whatever that thing was didn't expect the gun to. to go off. The gunshot echoed and the dark figure began running. My grandma chased my aunt inside and my uncles and my grandfather went after it. There weren't many roads or paths, so my grandfather and uncles chased after the figure. The truck was bouncing and the headlights were not fixed on one particular spot. My uncle swears that every time the headlights would hit the figure, he saw a woman. Not only that, it was running on all fours like a bear. My grandfather eventually stopped the truck as it neared the ditch that drops about 20 feet. He got out and began to yell in Navajo.

My uncle says that he was yelling about a local woman. He yelled that he wasn't scared and that he knew her and to leave his family alone. A few days passed and there was news that a woman that my grandfather was yelling about had passed. I've always been told that if you know who a Skinwalker is, say their name, and it will kill them. My cousin lived in the Eastern Agency of the Navajo Nation in a community known as Crown Point. She was still living with her parents at this time and was a good girl, and was very popular and played on the basketball team. When she told us this story, it was very out of the ordinary, and the events that followed

would also deepen my beliefs in the traditional Navajo way and of the taboos associated with the Navajo culture. My cousin was coming home from basketball practice, which ran past sunset. It was during the colder months, so it was dark by the time she pulled into her neighborhood. She pulled into a small housing community that she lived in. It was far from a fence community, but there were streetlights and the neighbors weren't too far from each other. As she neared her home, she saw a group of dogs. This wasn't unlikely, as there are random packs of stray dogs that roam rural communities.

These dogs don't belong to anyone, and they get food wherever they can find it. As she got closer, she noticed something was off about the dogs. There were four dogs, and they were sitting in a circle all facing each other. This didn't really phase her until she spoke about the event later. Because this was a housing community, my cousin couldn't barrel down the road, so she slowly drove past the group of dogs and kept going on her own way. As she continued to drive, she noticed in her peripheral vision that something was running alongside her car. She turned her head to see that brown dog from the group was trotting alongside her car. She didn't mind much until she hit a strategically placed speed bump.

The impact of the bump made her entire car wobble. She looked over at the dog again, still casually keeping pace with the car. She tried to ignore the dog and tried speeding up, keeping in mind where the speed bumps were placed. The dog continued to keep pace. My cousin had to eventually stop at a stop sign. She began to feel immensely uncomfortable and tried to keep her eyes forward, but curiosity got the best of her. She looked over at the dog and was facing forward. She continued to stare, and that's when the dog turned its head. Instead of the face of a dog, there was a flat face of a man covered in hair, smiling from ear to ear. Fear shot through her body, and my cousin pushed the pedal to the

floor, not daring to look back in her rear room mirror. She reached her house and barely pulled herself in the door, weak from fear. My aunt came to her and my cousin began to sob. She told my aunt everything, and they scheduled a meeting with a medicine man the next day. That night, my cousin was trying to get some rest. She was tossing and turning and felt very ill. She was, she was, and turning. She could hear people outside laughing and talking in Navajo, but she didn't think too much of it because she lived in a community near plenty of neighbors. At the medicine man, she told my cousin that she was very fortunate. The Skinwalker wasn't meant for her.

She just happened to spot it while it was out bringing another person misfortune. He also told her that the laughing and talking that she heard in the night was the Skinwalker talking to its friends, letting them know that someone had saw him and that he had scared her. The Medicine Man told my cousin if the Skinwalker had been for her. and she had seen him like that, it very well could have killed her. After that encounter, my cousin suffered from many ailments and had to stop playing basketball for a while. She had many ceremonies and eventually got back on her feet. My mom told us this story on many of the nights when the electricity would go out.

When I asked my cousin about it, she confirms it's true, but doesn't like talking about it much. Out on the Navajo Reservation, we don't have this city come and collect our trash, so we burn our trash in these huge burning barrels. Not very eco-friendly, I know, but it's what we got. If you don't like the trash properly, the fire will go out and the trash will just sit in the barrel. It is important because we are told to dispose of our personal hygiene items correctly. If you removed all of your hair from your brush, make sure the trash burned. If it was that time of month, make sure the trash burned.

If you changed a baby's diaper, make sure the trash burned. They tell us these things because Skinwalkers have been known to dig through the trash in order to find things that they're can get to use against us. They use the things that were briefly connected to and bring misfortune on to us using these things. Some of my family members take part in the sport of rodeo. So to practice, they have to rope a dummy and take turns roping it. My two male cousins were enjoying themselves outside and taking turns swinging the rope at the fake calf. The elders were always adamant that we shouldn't stay out past sundown, especially out on the res, where it's pitch black and there's no one around for miles. But my cousin,

cousins weren't the superstitious type, and they were under a streetlight. My cousins were joking around laughing, having a great time. That changes when my eldest cousin looks over to the burn barrel. A dark figure is bent over, rummaging through the garbage that failed to burn. My cousin devised a plan that they were going to grab weapons, sticks, and rocks, and go chase whatever it was. They move strategically, so that they are able to flank the figure. They run full speed and begin yelling and swinging their sticks and throwing their rocks. My cousins said that they kept up with it for the most part. That was until the figure ran underneath the streetlight. What my cousins thought was a person was actually a goat. Why would they think it was a person?

Because the goat was running on its hind legs. They stopped running and fear ran down their backs, and the figure ran off into the dark, feeling nervous and not entirely accepting what they just saw. They began roping the dummy again. There was an awkward silence among the boys now. They saw something so unnatural, but talking about it now would just make it seem real. Were they crazy? Did they really see a skinwalker? The boys roped the dummy in silence until one of them looked over to the tree. There was a head peeking out at them. If they didn't pay attention to it, whatever it was would just poke its head out from behind the tree and stare. When they would look in the direction of the tree, it would quickly move back out of sight. This was the final straw,

and my cousins ran back into the house. They told their parents, and my uncle came out to look. It was still there, poking its head out and going behind the tree. My uncle loaded his gun and started to walk towards the tree. He aimed and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The gun jammed. Whatever it was began to run,

but it was so fast, like a blur, as my cousin describes it. When it left, my uncle gave the boys a thorough lecture about staying out late. The next day, my cousins told my uncle about whatever it was had been digging through the trash barrel. They went out to investigate and saw the creature had pulled out a lot of things out of the barrel.

What was odd was the tracks. Goat prints were all around the area. They followed a set of tracks that were found around a baby diaper, several feet away from the barrel. Whatever they saw that night had very malevolent intentions. My cousin said that although the sight was ungodly, they know what they saw and stand by their claims. So I grew up in Utah and lived about an hour away from the Skinwalker Ranch. And going there as a high schooler was just a thing to do, just to see if it was true or not, and to see if you actually got scared. But here's my story.

First time me and a couple friends went out there, we got pretty far in. We got out of the car and started walking around. Mind you, this was around 1.30 in the morning. We found an old beat-up wood shed that looked like it was falling apart, but you could see through the holes of it. There were hooks, the kind you use for hanging up deer or cows. They looked mostly rusted, but the walls and everything around looked like it was splattered with old dried blood. It was everywhere, but of course it was dried. But the worst part started happening when we walked away from the shed.

Since we had a couple of flashlights, we looked around when we were walking. We would see pairs of eyes around us. At first it was just the shiny reflective look, like when you shine the light at a dog or a cat. So we thought it was just a couple dogs or coyotes. We continued on a bit more until we started seeing me. more eyes, but they were red, like bright red, even if you had the light in their direction, and they were a lot higher than a normal level would be for an animal. That's when we decided to turn back. What started to get me was one pair was always in front of us as we were walking

to the car, staring at us, like it was walking backwards with us. We never caught up to it, but it never left. Same with all of the others that kept circling us as we made our way back to the car. When we got to the car, we just wanted to get out of there. We got in, and it wouldn't start. Nothing would turn on at first, no matter how hard he turned the key. He tried it twice, then only the radio kicked on. We started panicking because the eyes got closer. Then bam!

Something hit the side of the car really hard, but we couldn't see what it was. It hit the car on the right side three times. My buddy got the car started finally after like five minutes of freaking out, trying to get it going. I'm in the passenger seat about to crap myself and my other friend was in the back seat freaked out but speechless with the most scared look I've ever seen But when he got the car started there was no delay in leaving He put the car in gear and spun those tires and got us out of there Once you get out of the gate onto the main road that goes by you're pretty much off the ranch We thought we were away from everything since we were on an actual road

But my buddy didn't slow down we were going 85 miles an hour down that road going right home I I looked and to the left about 15 feet off was a pair of red eyes. It was keeping up to us, and that's when it charged at us. I kind of got a glimpse before it smashed into the side of the car. It was definitely big, like four feet from its lakes to its headish-looking thing. Kind of hard to explain when I didn't get a great look at it. We eventually lost it, and when we got home, we went straight to bed. But in the morning, we looked at his car, one huge dent on the left rear fender and another dent on the right end. door on the passenger side, about the size of my head. We were so lucky to get out of there. So every summer I go to a lake in upstate New York, near the Canadian border. My family has a house that is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. It's a 30 to 45 minute drive to the nearest convenience store. We have three neighbors on our side of the lake, but there aren't any kids and it's mostly all retired or vacationing elderly people. They don't stay up past 10 and it's perfectly quiet when the sun goes down. Here's my story.

I have zero explanation for this, and the most reasonable thing to assume is a skinwalker. Around 11.30 p.m., maybe midnight. My cousin and I go down to the dock on the water. We have to walk through a short path in the woods to get there, and the thick trees bordered directly on the shore. While looking out at the stars in the water, we hear quiet, raspy rumbling. That's the best way I can explain it. Out of the forest, pretty far away.

We didn't really know what it was and wasn't bother. by it. About two minutes later we hear the same voice say both of our names. This time it was closer to our property. From our dock we can see along the shoreline, and we're near a corner so we could see pretty well along the coast to our left. We were looking with a flashlight in the trees and saw nothing. Maybe someone was out kayaking at night and said something to their friend, and we just heard them wrong. Sounds travel across water very easily, so it couldn't have been someone from their house, although our neighbors are about one-third of a mile away. Our uncle couldn't have been pulling a prank on us because of how far away it was,

and there wasn't any light. Five minutes passed and we've calmed down. While we were sitting there in silence, thinking about what just happened, we hear footsteps. Loud, leaf-crunching footsteps, about 10 feet to the left of our dock, right behind the tree line so we couldn't see anything. These footsteps were either from a human, bear, or deer. My cousin whispered to me that we need to get inside, but I told him that it might be a bear, and I didn't want to get chased while running back inside. So we were sitting on the dock holding our breath as the footsteps continued,

then stopped for a bit. All of the sudden we hear the same voice that said our names. Hello. I have never been more scared in my life. The voice was speaking English, but it wasn't human. It had an almost robotic growl, under the word. Both of us flipped out at this point and sprinted inside, not even trying to glance at what was in the trees. My uncle was sitting on the couch with our dog. We spent the next 30

minutes checking the whole property in the nearby forest and didn't see anything. What the hell could it have been? This happened a little more than a week ago, and the scariest part I wondered was, how did that thing know our names? And why was it on our property? Yesterday I was reminded of the Skinwalker from some videos on YouTube. It fits perfectly, with the story, but they aren't known for being in New York. I wish I saw what it was, to see if it had a human or a deer form. But the trees were so thick and it was so dark, we couldn't see anything behind the trees. Anyways, talking about them is apparently bad luck, and encountering what I experienced ever again will be too soon. So this took place in my dad's then-girlfriend's house

during broad daylight in Grand Rapids, Minnesota, just off of River Road. Behind the house, There was a forest, but it's a bit dense to play in, so we'd usually just follow the deer trail a bit into the woods till there was a clearing where there was a barbed wire fence that cut right through the middle of it. We'd hopped the fence and go through the woods on the other side. On the other side was a planted pine forest that ran along the fence for the airport there. It was pretty wide open back there, so you could see straight down the rows to the other side. My brother and I were back there with the girlfriend's nephew just tromping around. You know, just some kids being rowdy and noisy.

Well, at the very end of the rows of trees is a road, which is actually a fire trail, but we called it the road. And on the other side of the road was a more dense forest. We reached the road and stopped and talked like we usually did, to look at a deer track or a squirrel or something. When this skunky bear-like smell came up, my brother and I both felt an urge to look up at the road towards the airport fence. What I saw was what looked like the head of a huge black wolf.

but it didn't look right. His ears weren't in the right spots and looked droopy, and his eyes looked off. They were too big and bright for his face. His front legs were long and skinny, but he was standing right like a wolf, just way too big. My brother and I looked at each other,

and here's where I'm going to mention that my brother and I are very close, so we would usually give each other a look and know what it meant. Here we looked at each other and instantly started to briskly walk back. The girlfriend's nephew just started to walk with us. He asked what was up and we just shushed him. We were being as quiet as we could,

but we knew it would hear every step and movement of us. Once we hopped the barbed wire fence, we ran as fast as we could to get to the house. Once we got to the back entrance, we looked back, and there it was, looking at us through the brush. We didn't hear it move behind us or anything. We pointed it out to the nephew, and we all watched it flop back into the woods.

Now my brother and I have been raised on 80 acres of land just south of bobbing. We've seen wolf, bear, moose, mountain lions, coyote, pretty much everything else. We both have never seen a wolf that big and lanky in our lives. I feel like it's important to note that at least I didn't feel any dread or anything like that. It was more a primal fear, like I knew we all had to get away from it, but not show we were afraid. I felt like if we ran from it, it would have taken us down. My brother and I told my dad, and he didn't seem too interested, but he was that way about everything growing up. The next morning, my brother and I went back out to look for tracks, so we could see where and how it stalked us.

We saw huge dog-like tracks, and about six feet up in a tree following its root back, we found thick black fur. We noped out of their fast and didn't go back without protection. About a few weeks later, I'm home alone. All the doors are locked, and only the back windows are locked. the house are open. I suddenly noticed the dogs are acting weird. Then I hear clear as day, by the back door my dad's girlfriend's voice, call for her dog. I froze but looked up at my bedroom doorway into the small hall. The dog got up and went to the kitchen where the back door was. She was quiet for a moment. Then I heard her claws skid across the floor and she ran back to my room.

I closed the door and locked it fast and closed my window. The only reason it freaked me out was because I didn't hear the garage door open or the side door open, just the voice. I blessed my room and made sure nothing was allowed in it or around it. The next time my brother visited, he slept in the living room. Now the living room was huge, and you could see out to the front deck. As my brother was sleeping, he heard what he described that as an old woman screaming on the deck. He woke up panicking, and said he turned on the porch light, and there was a big black crow sitting on the deck Bannister. After that, he only slept in my room, never out in the open. I'd also like to note that neither of us knew what a Skinwalker was at the time, being that we were 11 and 13 years old, and lived in

the north. We just assumed that it was a goofy wolf that smelled bad. For context, I live in the Midwest in a suburban area. My boyfriend lives about 30 to 60 minutes away from me, depending on if I use either the interstate highway or the city roads. That being said, I usually take the interstate, then take the highway partway home, since the highway is only about a mile or so away from his neighborhood, and I take it all the way to the interstate. There is also another road I can take, a paved country road with one lane on each side of the road with no streetlights. It eventually meets up with a few main streets, which are numbered roads, and it will take you back towards the highway and city. I'm sorry for all the background about the road.

roads but I feel it's important and I feel like my choice was a definite sign that the butterfly effect is always in works. On to the story. Earlier today I went to pick up my boyfriend and we basically hung out and binge watched a TV show I recently got him in. Around 11 p.m. he says he probably should go home since he works in the morning. I agree and drive him home using the interstate with no problems. We kiss goodbye and that I am on my way out of the neighborhood and towards the street that takes me to the main roads If I turn right, it's a straight shot to the highway. If I turn left, I could take it down to the country road for a bit of a late night drive.

I decide to take the ladder. I turn left, then turn right at the stoplight and begin to drive through the dark country night. So I had my windows rolled down and my music up, just letting the breeze come in. It was pretty windy, so my car was swerving a little, and you couldn't see the stars or anything because the clouds were taking over the sky, building up a storm. I thought about switching on my high beams to see better, but the road was really curvy and had lots of hills, and I was afraid of accidentally blinding someone coming from the opposite direction. What happened next makes me glad I didn't turn them on.

On the left side there was a small patch of woods with overgrowth. To my right were wide open fields, and in front of me was a hill. Toward the crest of the hill, I saw something beginning to cross the road, something large and dark, with what looked like antlers on its head. I thought maybe at first it was a deer or even an elk and I slowed down. But when I got closer, I realized something was wrong. One of the things that were wrong was it was moving very slow, like it was hurt or something, and it didn't even glance at me.

It just kept moving toward the patch of trees on my left, which I thought seemed weird. I felt like it should have at least acknowledged the sound of my vehicle. The second thing was, this thing, this animal that I presumed was a deer or an elk, couldn't have been. It was at least the size of a moose, but that couldn't be right, because where I am from, there are no moose. We had deer and maybe some elk, but no moose. I felt a cold wave of dread wash over me as I watched this moose thing, make its way across the road, and then it stopped, and it looked right at me. It twisted its head so fast to look at me I almost screamed. Its face was hideous. It looked rotten somehow, like it was withering away, and its eyes were so dark.

I was so scared it didn't have any eyes. There was something dripping from where the mouth was, and I could see sharp teeth poking from its lips as they pulled back into a sneer. I thought about reversing my car and high-tailing it out of there, but I was frozen. You know how when adrenaline kicks? They say you either enter fight or flight mode? Well, they don't tell you that there's a third option, and that's to freeze, which is exactly what I did.

I just stayed in place, my hand's still on the wheel, foot still digging into the brink, into the brakes. I don't know how long I sat there staring at this thing with the thing staring back at me, but when it started towards my car, I honestly thought that was going to be the end of me. I couldn't move, couldn't blink, could barely even breathe. All I could do was hope and pray that I wouldn't be ended by some freakish moose-looking monster, and then a pair of lights begin to rise over the hill toward us, and as the other vehicle's high beams shined on the thing in the road, it let out a curdling scream that didn't sound entirely human. It It was animalistic and sort of raspy.

It's hard to explain. But I watched as that thing got on its hind legs and lurched itself across the road into the thicket of the trees and bushes, narrowly missing the other person. I knew this thing would probably come back if I stayed where I was. So before I could give it the chance,

I slammed on my gas pedal and gunned it out of there, going well over the posted speed limit. I just wanted to get as far away from it as possible. Every dark curve or patch of trees or field made me feel so paranoid that I could see the creature again, and all I wanted to do was go home, and never, for the life of me, drive on that country road again. I made it home safe, but was shaken.

And to cut a long story short, my family thought I was just being hysterical, and had just seen a deer, but I know what I saw, and this thing wasn't a deer. It couldn't have been. I've read up on Skinwalkers, but I'm not sure if it's what I saw. I mean, do they even exist out in the Midwest?

I thought that was more in Arizona or New Mexico. Why would a Skinwalker be here? Why would it come after me? Was it even a Skinwalker? Or was it something else entirely? Was it my mind playing tricks on me? What was that thing? Please, if anyone knows what it was or has any idea of it,

please tell me. I'm so scared I'm going to come across that thing again. And I don't know if next time I'll be as lucky. This is 100% true, so this will probably be a boring account compared to some of the other posts here, but I wanted to share this memory somewhere and maybe get opinions on the matter.

I grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico. My mom would often take us camping in the summers. This particular camping trip was somewhere in the vicinity of Shiprock, New Mexico. My mother took my older brother, Chris, 10, and myself, 8, camping often in those days, and preferred dispersed camping on BLM slash NPS land to camping and merged grounds. She usually find us a spot and make herself busy setting up the tents and pit,

while Chris and I would scamper around and explore the area and be generally unhelpful. On this particular trip, we arrived in the middle of the day, and as my mom started setting up camp, Chris and I started to explore the area around our campsite. We wandered into the woods of our campsite. Being in the desert, it was really just stunted trees and sagebrush, so I hesitate to describe it as a forest. But the trees and brush were taller than me, and provided a decent screen.

I wandered down into a gully and came face to face with what I described to my mother as a wolf kangaroo. It was crouched low, with long, slender arms reaching down to the ground and large pointed ears like a deer. The fur covering its body was sandy brown and patchy, as if it had mange.

It had large orange eyes and a snout like a wolf or a coyote. It bared its teeth at me and stood up. At its full height, it was the biggest animal I had ever seen, towering over us and the sagebrush. I had never been, and probably still have never been, as frightened as I was then.

Chris and I started screaming for our mom to come to our rescue. Chris regained his senses before me, taking off running back up the embankment to the campsite. The wolf kangaroo turned and sort of, I don't know, speed skated away from us through the brush and tree. Its legs were backwards, like a dog's, and its strides took it far away and fast, faster than any deer or antelope I'd ever seen.

After a split second of staring at it in horror, I followed my brother up the embankment, screaming from my mom. We were so frightened that my mom packed us back into the car and moved camps, conceding for once to stay in the managed campground. Chris and I were too scared to sleep in our tent that night, and we clung to mom at the smallest twig snapping in the brush. So that's my story.

It's boring compared to some of the others here, but it's 100% true, and I wanted to share. I vividly remember the way this animal moved as it glided away from us into the desert, and the sheer, utter horror I felt looking into its face, Chris and I have never managed to find an explanation for what we saw that day in the brush.

I used to work at a local coal mining company on the Navajo Reservation as an operator for a coal-hull-hullage crew. I drove haulage equipment, and it was one of those crest 240-ton coal-hall belly dump trucks. If you've ever seen those trucks, pretty huge. They're about two to three stories high and about one-third the length of a football field. I remember that I was working the night shift, which started around 11 p.m. Before we started the shift,

we required to do a pre-start inspection of our equipment. I walked around my truck, and when I went up to the rear of the truck and lowered its stairs, that gave me access to the engine bay. I walked up the stairs and started my inspection. I found a pretty bad coolant leak on the truck. I climbed back down and went to the cab and called my haulage supervisor. He answered and asked me if I can drive the truck to the main shop for repairs. So I left the ready line and drove six to eight miles back to the shop, and I called the shop maintenance supervisor, and he instructed me to drive around back of the shop and park the truck there. I drove around the shop, parked the truck, and I wanted to see how much coolant I had left. I climbed back down from the cab, walked around to the back side of the

truck and lowered the stairs. I checked the coolant level and I had a significant loss of coolant. I called my supervisor over the radio and asked him to pick me up. As I started to walk away from the truck towards the shop, I seen it. It was big like a bull. It walked weird, patches of tan fur missing, blotches of blackened skin and its head was big. The head was as large as a pumpkin and it wobbled around like it was unbalanced. It had an unnatural look, nothing like I'd ever seen. This thing walked on all fours and about four to five feet tall. It was about a hundred feet away and was walking toward me. My first instinct was that it was a sick dog, mange infested, and malnourished.

It continued to walk toward me and I thought this sucker might be sick and have rabies. I took out my flashlight and shine the light at it, yelling at it to stay away. It continued to walk towards me. It was then that I noticed it wasn't alive. Its eyes did not give off any reflection and were black and solid. It was unnatural. I reached for my pocket knife and yelled at it to stop. It stopped when it was about 20 feet away.

I was still walking towards the shop, and it paralleled me all the way there. I never looked away. I thought it could attack me. By the time I got to the shop door entrance, it started walking towards the east. I went inside and got the shop supervisor, and we both came out. It wasn't about a minute later, and it was gone. We walked to the east, and my supervisor drove up. Now there was only one way into the backside of the shop, and my supervisor should have seen it.

He didn't. I explained to him what I saw, and he said he didn't see it on the way into the shop. My supervisor said that I saw a Skinwalker, and that it usually was seen walking around the shop. The rest of the shift, I stayed with my supervisor. I think he was scared. I wasn't scared, nor did I go into shock like some people describe. It was an experience that I would never forget. To this day, I don't know what I witnessed those few days, nor do I want to know.

I think it would be better that way. To set this scene with some background information, I'm a 20-year-old Latino woman. I'm a Lance Corporal in the Marine Corps, and I've spent a year in Afghanistan back in 2015. During the time of this experience, my girlfriend and I took a camping trip, and for the sake of this story, I will call her Olivia. I've grown up in a very wooded area of Florida. Many trees and animals of all sorts, alligators, bears, panthers, coyotes, and sometimes wolves from people owning them and letting them into the wild when they got big. The area we had gone to was new terrain for us.

She insisted we go somewhere new and explore around, since I would have to return to California to my duty station in a few days. She wanted to explore the new terrain with me. We walk along the beaten path, admiring nature in the wooded areas, flowers, and even small animals and birds. that inhabited the area. Olivia went to college for zoology, so she enjoyed teaching me about the different animals and the ways to identify them by their tracks and other signs. As we were walking to the camp clearing in this particular forest,

we came across a hardly visible pathway, winding deeper into the brush. Her nature calling was pulling her into it. She wanted to explore and find a place inside to set up camp. But call it military intuition, but I felt really uneasy with the idea. idea. Reluctantly, with her pleading, I agreed. We then began to trek through the brush, thorny vines cutting up my legs through my jeans, and a spider web hitting me in the face every now and

again, due to the overlaying branches. We walked for roughly 45 minutes until we came into a clearing, deciding this was the best spot we could set up camp. Olivia pitched our tense as I got the fire roaring, and at this point the dusk is creeping in on us. We lay down to settle in for the night, and all is well. That is, until I'm awakened by things being thrown by the side of my tent. It takes me a little bit for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The campfire was now a dim glow. My eyes finally adjust as I look around. I wasn't truly awake until the smell hit me like a semi-truck. The smell of rotting garbage. It was sickening. As I tried to gain my composure, that's when I saw the figure. It was tall, very large and stalky, and appeared very human-like, just too large to be a

person. There was still tapping against the tent, some large, other small, but I didn't make a peep. My voice was lodged in my throat, and I'm not even sure at this point I was breathing. All the hair on my body was on end. I was terrified. Olivia shifted in her sleep, opening her eyes. Hey, is everything okay? I cut her off by placing my hand over her mouth, raising a finger to my lips in order to tell her to be quiet. That's when I heard it. The growling. It was low, more like a grumble and a groan than a growl, but it was a sound like no other. It was enough to make even my drill sergeants piss themselves. Our eyes directed to the zipper, and it began to move. It slowly started unzipping. Whatever this thing was, it was getting into our tent. I reached next to me and grabbed

a small handgun I took everywhere with me, and took aim. A rather loud bang is heard as I took my shot, making a direct hit into the thing's shoulder. A monstrous growl scream is heard. It rattled me to the bone. And Olivia only cried out of pure fear. We watched as this figure disappeared, and we didn't fall asleep just in case it returned. I stayed with her all night, my handgun at my side. The next morning we were packing all of our stuff and getting ready to head out when we saw it. A stocky figure standing in the tree line, it was around eight, maybe nine feet tall. It was large, hairy, and seemed rather human-like, besides its dark, deep eyes and fur-covered body. It just watched us as we collected our things. We never broke eye contact either. The thing just watched

before sinking back into the woods. We've never ran so fast in our lives back to the main road. Olivia still has nightmares about this thing that terrorized us by throwing things and opening our tent. And I'll admit, the thing really creeped me out. Let me just tell you, I haven't been camping since. During the summer of 2016, my larger group of friends and I went camping out at this spot called Desert Creek. It's a place that's about a hundred miles from any town, deep in some mountains in Nevada. I'm not of any sort of native descent, but I've heard a few Skinwalker stories before. I didn't believe them too much until this night. My large group drove out to the camp spot and got set up. Being stupid teenagers, we started drinking. It was 4th of July weekend,

so the camp spots were sort of busy, but all of the spots were pretty far apart, so we didn't think we would have too many problems. The drinking started around two in the afternoon, right after we set up camp. While setting up my tent, I noticed some odd footprints, but didn't think too much of it. By the time night fell, all of us were pretty drunk. I decided I had to go take a leak, so I walked over to a tree. But before I could, I saw what looked like a coyote, but something was off about it. It turned and looked at me and stood up on two feet, and it sounded like it was trying to say something to me, but it couldn't get out the words. They were just sounds for a few seconds. I was paralyzed with fear, and then it seemed like the words started to become more clear, but it's still not

right. I heard my best friend. Let's call him C. C's voice came from its mouth. Hey, hand me another beer. That's when I snapped out of it. I turned and ran back to camp and told everyone, but no one believed me, and I wasn't sure if I believed myself. But after, I became really paranoid. I thought I could hear sounds all night. When it was time to go to bed, I had almost forgotten about it. Keep in mind, we were about two thirty-six packs, in between about eight of us. I was lying in my tent, listening to the crackling of the fire when all of a sudden I could hear footsteps, but they were scattered.

I looked out the window of the tent and saw a humanoid figure, about ten feet away standing next to the fire staring at me. Then it said again in C's voice, Hey guys, I think I'm going to go to bed. That's when I heard C, safe for me. from his tent. What was that? He poked his head out of the tent and screamed.

Everybody got up at that point, and that's when this thing turned and lunged at my other friend. Let's call him Jay. Jay jumped out of the way and hopped into his car, which was right next to his tent. The thing then howled this terrifying sound, and that's when I realized the smell of rotten eggs and burning garbage. The thing ran away and C said, Guys, we need to get out of here. We all hopped into our cars and started driving out.

When one of my friends in front of me stopped, about a mile from the main road, I got out with the pistol my dad had let me borrow for protection, and I realized my friend's truck had a flat tire. We all heard the howl again, and it sounded like it was in the middle of the canyon where we were in, about a 25-minute drive away from us. We thought we would be okay, so we got to work putting the spare tire on. We had only just gotten the flat tire off, and we started to smell the rancid odor again. We stopped and looked around and heard the howl once again,

this time right next to us. We bolted to our cars and tried to drive away when this thing jumped out in front of the car and stood up. The creature looked into my eyes and spoke once more, but in a demonic-like voice. Gonna have to try harder than that. I slammed on the gas and this thing jumped over my car. We got out of there and drove 150 miles back home, still drunk, and way past curfew, but we didn't care. The next morning, I drove my friend back to his truck,

and when we both got there, we were both struck with this terrible fear. feeling in our stomachs. His truck's windows were broken and scratched into the car all over the place was every single one of our full names. There were two animals in the bed of the truck, but we couldn't tell what kind of animals they were because they were so mangled. From that point on, we had never given a thought to going camping at Desert Creek ever again. I will not say my name for this story, as I am afraid they will find me, but you can call me Rose. I was 14 when it happened, so about a year ago. I was at a powwow with my friends, a young girl, let's call her Lily and her older sister, Saria. It was getting late, probably around 10 p.m., when we came up with the idea to tell scary stories.

I've always been fascinated by Skinwalker stories, though I have never seen one myself. Well, that was about to change. I came up with a story and told my friends, then Lily, then Saria. After telling stories, we finally got tired and went to bed. Saria and Lily slept in a small tent while I slept in a camper with my dad. I've been up where the powwow is many times, and we call the area the grounds. I'm not really a native. I have a little blackfoot, but I'm mostly Irish. The grounds are full of mostly Cherokee.

Anyway, I came up with a stupid idea to scare my friends. I went outside next to their tent and snapped a twig. Then I made loud footsteps along with hard breathing and groaning noises. I could see their shadows sit up, so I knew they were awake. I was just about to shake the tent when I heard footsteps behind me. I knew there were bears and big cats in the woods, but they rarely come in the grounds, because all of the lights and people. I didn't want to take any chances, so I slowly walked towards my camper.

Then I hear the same groaning noises I made behind me. I thought it was Lily or Saria trying to get me back. But something wasn't right. It sounded just like my voice. Ha ha, very funny guys. I call back to their tent. Ha ha, very funny guys. Said someone who sounded just like me in the woods.

Then I see Lily and Saria walk out of their tent. Will you stop? We're trying to sleep, said Saria in an annoyed voice. A branch breaks and echoes in the woods. Saria and Lily look behind them to see nothing. I think a bear is out there. Hurry. Come inside my camper, I whisper to them.

They both walked towards me, when suddenly, a loud, curdling scream filled my ears. It sounded like a girl and a dog screaming in the woods. Loud footsteps came closer to us. We ran as fast as we could to my camper and slammed the door shut. I looked out the window and see a dark shadow next to my friend's tent. Then I did something I still regret to this day. I got a flashlight and shined it at the figure. It had the head of a bear and the upper body of a human.

and the legs of some kind of dog. It stood on its hind legs and stared at us with glowing eyes. I screamed so loud I probably woke everyone up from a mile away. My dad came running. What's wrong? Are you okay? I yelled Skinwalker. I saw a Skinwalker. My dad got out his shotgun while his friend who was staying the night. Let's call him Jack grabbed a bowl of sage. My dad ran out the door to see nothing. Jack lit the sage and put it in the bull outside the front door. We stayed inside. We stayed inside. the rest of the night. The next morning we went out to investigate the area where the Skinwalker was. All of us almost puked from the rotten smell of animals. I went home the next day. You would think the story ends there, but sadly no, there's more. I was laying in

bed trying to sleep when I heard footsteps outside my window. I looked at my window to see a face of a bear. It followed me home. I screamed, but I was home alone because my mom was still at work. The skinwalker banged at my window, cracking it. I tried to let out another scream, but what came out was a loud growl. The creature froze. I did something I thought I would never do. I ran to the window and yelled, go away, be gone, at the creature. Slowly, it backed away into the woods. I stayed up all night waiting for it to come back, but it never did. Why did it follow me home? And why did I do what I did? I probably will never know, but all I care about is it's never coming back. I'm 15 now, and still no sight of the monster. Hopefully I will never see

something like that again. My name is Jonathan. I'm 22. I've encountered this creature twice, so I'm covering the first time I saw the thing, which was when I was 14 and lived with my parents. My grandparents told me stories of skinwalkers, and they took them quite literally, which is how I knew what this thing was. One night, I was getting ready to go to bed, and my cat was in my window. As I went to get into bed, he started growling. I didn't really think much of it, just thought maybe he saw a deer or a straight cat or dog. He kept going and started hissing. Then my curiosity got the best of me and I looked out the window. I froze. I hadn't looked directly at it. I had just looked at my yard and its glowing red eyes caught the corner of my eye.

I knew exactly what it was. I tried to move, but I just couldn't as it just stared at me and my cat, still hissing and growling. A couple of seconds went by and it let out a curdling scream, so loud it might as well have been right in front of me. I broke the gaze and closed the curtains, grabbing my cat and getting away from the window. Then, not a couple seconds later, I heard a tapping at my window. I knew they were really fast, so I wasn't surprised that it got to my window so quickly. My gut had sank at this point, and I couldn't move. My cat was silent but on edge, and all of its hair was standing up. Then it tried to be. to speak, there's no explanation on how it did this, but that it's been around for a very

long time. It said, Jonathan, come here, I need your help. The most frightening part about that was it was in my dad's voice, but he had been gone for over a year now. The tapping continued for about ten minutes and stopped completely, longest ten minutes of my life. After it stopped, I heard footsteps stomp off quickly into the woods where I lived. I didn't get any sleep that night, and the next morning everyone was up and didn't seem like they had heard anything and acted like everything was normal.

I haven't told anyone, and you're the only person I've told this. I couldn't tell if it was a Skinwalker or a Wendigo, as I didn't see any of its features except that it had glowing red eyes and that it mimicked my dad. I was 15 when this happened. I have some family in Arizona, so I decided to go out there for the summer. I was very bold and stupid. My grandmother used to say, you're like a young wolf cub, always trying to figure out your fangs.

That can lead to trouble. I didn't understand at the time what she meant by that. My uncle, let's call him Tom, told my cousins and I when I arrived not to go out at night. I thought to myself, why not? Sure the place is colder at night, but I'm 15, almost a man. So I waited until he, his wife, and children

went to sleep that night. I snuck out of the house quietly. I was wandering around, looking at everything, houses, stores, etc. I had walked two to three miles away from the house when I realized that I needed to take a leak somewhere away from the streetlights. I found a house with no one living in it not too far from the road. I stepped off the street, going around the right side of the house. I was in the middle of doing my business and I thought I heard a cry from a little girl,

but it sounded somewhat off, like if it was coming from a ton of. or something far off in the distance. I listened closer for a while, before stepping in that direction, I thought it may have come from. I yelled, Hey, little girl, where are you? Then the crying just stopped.

I was confused. What was going on? That's when I heard it. My own voice, but not quite right. More like a growl reply. I'm scared. Can you come to the other side and help me get home? The home was almost a dog's growl.

My mind was racing now that I was fully creeped out, and I felt an overpowering need to run. As I turned to do just that, I heard movement from somewhere behind me. At the same time, I started smelling something like rotten meat. Looking back, I saw it. I think it was trying to look human, but the way it moved like a movie zombie, all stiff. Though once it saw me, it started moving much smoother, plus its eyes were wrong. They look like dog eyes when light hits them at night. As it moved closer, the thing tried to mimic my Uncle Tom's voice.

I just ran from it, but as messed up as its walk was, the thing was fast. I ran full speed, but the thing was catching up fast. The thing passed me, then turned into the middle of the road. I saw something about it, now that it was in the street light. Not only was its eyes dog-like, but the face was no longer human, but looked like a coyote now. My instincts told me to run the other way. I was frozen, and before my eyes, the rest of the body snapped and popped as it was transforming into the coyote on all fours.

I ran in the direction of my uncle's house. I heard it coming from me as I ran. This is where something weird happened. As I got close this time, my mind went blank. I don't know how to explain this, but I'll do my best. I saw a gray wolf in my mind's eye, and I turn realizing a growl from my mouth that even sounded like a wolf scrow. The thing stopped, clocked its head to me.

the side and just stared at me. The thing looked like a coyote, but it was standing on its hind legs. I started walking backwards, seeing the gray wolf, and knowing I was using my instincts at the moment, that if I turned to run, it would cease to chase me down and get me. I kept my eyes on it until I was almost to my uncle's door, where I regained control of my mind. Going into the house, I heard scratching on the door, asking in different voices to be let in for an hour. Then it left. It did come back the next night to my uncle's house, but Tom knew what it was after. Looking at it through the window of the front door, it pretended to be human again, but tried to use my voice to get Tom to open the door.

He went straight to work, burning sage and other herbs, afterwards asking me if I was the only one it was after, I told him everything. He was mad, telling me, you're safe for the night, but I'm sending you home in the morning. I know he was mad, but I needed to know what this was. He told me it was a skinwalker, and it was going to hunt me until it loses my scent. He told me about the legend of them. But the Wolf Thing, he smiled and said that, you'll have to figure that one out for yourself. The next day I was picked up by my mom.

I am afraid to go back that way. I don't walk at night anymore, and I still have no answer about the Wolf Thing that stopped through my mind that night. I was heading to a small town in southern Utah with my wife and a couple of friends. We were on our way to see Lee, a friend of mine that hadn't been seen for a long time. We met up with him at his place and decided to hang out at a nearby lake. It was a typical quiet campsite with a fire pit and a couple of logs around it. We had a little picnic there and we were exchanging stories and catching up with each other all day. Eventually, one of my friends, Bryce, got tired and decided to fall asleep in the car

while the rest of us continued talking. At this point, Twilight had fallen. Erica and I were discussing something while my wife and Lee were talking about something else. All of the sudden, my wife and Lee fall silent. Erica and I quickly notice. We look at them and Lee says, Get in the car. I asked him, what's wrong?

And he says, there might be a skinwalker around. Now, Erica and I had no idea what a skinwalker was at the time, so we asked him to explain. After his explanation of what it was, Erica and I, being the only sensible thinkers at the moment, and Bryce, just barely waking up from us jumping in the car, decide we should investigate, believing that it was probably just some kids in a nearby campsite

trying to mess with us. We came to the top of the hill that was between our campsite and looked for any likely candidates for the scare. None. All we could see was a couple of trees and some bushes. We even called out and there was no response. As we were walking back to the campsite, we heard it. A rustling in the bushes behind us,

we look again but see nothing. point we were considering that Lee and my wife may be right. We get back, and it's getting dark fast, so I ask them, is there something we can do to keep them away for a little bit? Yes, said Lee. They don't like fire. And Tim, my wife and Bryce, start working on the fire, while me and Erica go down by the lake to collect the two liters we had put there in the water to keep cold. Now it's dark, and Erica and I headed back with the sodas. We hear rustling in the bushes beside us. We're both scared. We hurry back and start putting everything back in the car as soon as possible, while Lee made sure the fire kept burning. After getting everything into the car, I rush over to the fire pit and tell everyone to get in the car as I proceeded to stomp the fire out.

Right as the fire went out, I hear a curling scream across the lake. I felt my heart stop. Lee had said Skinwalkers are fast and could make up a full lap around the lake in a matter of seconds. I jump in the car and yell, go! Right as the engine started and the lights come on, we see it. coming out of the bushes right in front of us, glowing yellow eyes, and what looked like a zombie-fied coyote with decaying flesh, a skinwalker. We backed up and peeled out of there as fast as we could. This happened two years ago, and it still scares me to how close of a call it was.

I am honestly amazed that we all survived such a close encounter with this skinwalker. When I was about 11 or 12, we lived in a small house made of mud and stone, a lot like our house now. It was two of my brothers and I in the house. Everyone else had gone to the feast and left us to tend the sheep. We were getting ready for bed when we heard the dogs going crazy outside, thinking it was nothing more than coyotes howling in the distance. We told them to be quiet. We began to drift off into sleep, and the dogs would not shut up.

Somehow I was able to get a few hours asleep. Then I woke up very late in the night. It was very quiet and still in the house, except for my brother's snoring and breathing. I realized I needed to use the outhouse and woke up my brother to take me there. He teased me about being scared, which I certainly was. We went out with our flashlight to the outhouse. The dogs began with their crazed barking, out in the sagebrush, going from one place to the next.

My brother went first and I waited for him outside. While waiting, I tried to follow the dogs with my flashlight. Suddenly, there was a very loud whine from one of the dogs. Then everything went silent again. It was really too quiet for that time a year. Not even the sheep were making noise. Suddenly I heard a few of the dogs going completely mad by the truck. When I looked over, there was this man.

He was unbelievably tall, leaning one arm on the cab roof of the truck. He was looking at the dogs for a little. They all scattered in different directions. The thing looked up at me, and I saw its face. It had a pure white face, like a full moon, two burning yellow eyes, and a slight smile that was pure black. I could not move or make a sound.

It began to walk towards me with long strides until it finally towered over me. All I began to see was dark red. I kept getting deeper and deeper into its eyes. I could faintly hear my brother coming out of the outhouse. With this, the thing looked up at him. Reality came rushing back to me. I noticed my brother was too distracted with his buckle

to realize what was going on. I noticed this thing's long hands hovering just inches from my head. Its skin was black ash and smelt like rotten flesh in the summer. I was still unable to move or speak. The Skinwalker began to move toward my brother. Finally noticing this figure, my brother became paralyzed as I was. Closer and closer it drew.

Reaching its arm out toward my brother's head, something finally snapped in me. I became unbearably angry. I broke from the trance and lunged at the Skinwalker, raising my arms like a wild animal and bearing my teeth at it. A growl came out that I never knew I could make. I became more angrier at the thing that it was trying to hurt us. It kept that smile at first, but the angrier I got, the more the smile faded. Finally, with everything I had, I began to make a primal roar at it.

It fell backwards and ran into the night. Looking back at me, its eyes were dim and dull. Its smile now long since gone. The next morning, my family returned home from the feast. After relaying the story to my parents, they quickly hired a medicine man. I'm half Navajo and half Mexican. For over 20 years of my life, I've lived on the Navajo Nation Reservation in New Mexico. My Native American side of the family always warned us to be careful at night.

My grandparents would always tell me stories of these shapeshifting witches who can curse you or mess with you. They called them Skinwalkers. Because they would take the skin of animals and wear them to change into that animal, or something in between a human and an animal. I never believed in it, really. I'm only half Navajo and light-skinned, so I was never treated the same by most people here, so I drifted away from the culture and thought it wasn't for me. It was around summertime.

This happened when I was in high school, so about six to eight years ago. I would have been like 15 to 17 then. I used to hang out with a group of guys who like to do a lot of delinquent type stuff. You know, smoke sigs and stay up all night playing video games at someone's house. Then at 3 a.m., if we felt like it, we would go sneak out. to paradise. I know it's an ironic name. It's basically a giant metal pipe that carries irrigation water to all the farms. But really, it was also a spot for kids to get drunk or high in the evenings. However, the place did have a scary history of kids and adults who drowned in the night. But I always

thought those were urban legends. But at 3 a.m., that was our time. We as boys would test one another across the pipe, sort of an initiation to see how far you could go. We usually could go all the way across. Now keep in mind, this pipe goes well over three stories high. It's also wide. I'd say as wide as an average car. We would walk this thing for kicks in a group of nine at 3 a.m. So one night, me and a small group of friends were driving around board at 2 a.m., wanting to spook each other, so I said let's go to paradise and walk the pipe. As to most of these friends I was hanging out with had never done it. They agreed, pumped up on energy drinks, and we drove.

It was pretty quiet. The sky was dark and the night was cold. The boys with me were Michael, Cody, Tommy, and Thorell. Now, Tharrow was the driver because he had a car and his family was pretty well off too, so he never had to worry about cash. We got to the place and he didn't want to go, said his parents were traditional, and he wanted to just chill in the car. Basically, he wanted to text some chick, I'm sure, without us bugging him.

I told him it's fine, keep the car locked and running in case we see something scary. Me and the other boys went on without him. As we got onto the lead pipe, a few of the guys were scared, and had me take the lead. As we crawled, I'd say a fourth of the way on the pipe, talking and laughing. I noticed a faint white or light gray bat bigger than my head flying around us. It dived for us a few times. We dodged it, but then Tommy slipped. because of the shoes he was wearing and almost fell off the pipe.

I reached out, grabbing him on his right arm. Michael had grabbed my shirt collar, and Cody grabbed his. Altogether, we got back on the pipe, shaken that we almost lost Tommy to the dark depths below. The bat was gone. We were all freaking out, but the guys wanted to continue. We laughed about it, as guys usually do. We passed the halfway point on the pipe with no problems. But as we got three-fourths of the way, Michael saw something.

You see, at the end of the pipe there's a hill. Behind that hill, it's very brightly lit because of a church somewhere off in the distance. Anyway, on that hill was a black figure of pointy ears, a dog's silhouette. Now, Michael was a tough guy. He yelled at that thing. I'm not scared of you, Skinwalker, and tossed a few rocks he had in his pocket. One rock hit the pipe and the other fell into the brush below. That shadow silhouette dog stood up on its two legs like a person.

We all freaked out. Jaws dropped. Then Cody said, look, another one to the left. Tommy said there's another one on the right. So there's three silhouettes of pointy dog-eared people on the hill. I told them to back up so we could get back to the car. The things to the right and the left of the hill started to move down the hill towards us. Now there's just one standing on the hill, the one who stood up first. Now we're trying to go back, but we're still halfway. Under us, complete darkness. It's quiet for a few minutes. Then we heard a girl crying. Sounded like she was hurt and scared. We were overcome with a strange feeling of wanting to help. Michael wanted to go back towards

the end and crawl down the pipe to help this girl. I almost followed too, but inside I said, No, this is wrong. Something isn't right. So I yelled at him and everyone, saying, are you stupid? Look at the thing up there on the hill. Did you not see those things? It's a trap. Let's leave that fake crying. If that girl is hurt, we'll come back when the sun is up in two hours. Now the moment I said this, the crying stopped. All the guys freaked out saying they can't believe what came over them. They said they almost forgot what we saw before. Halfway on the pipe now, we hear a drum being played. We start running. Running on this pipe almost to the car, Corey stops us. We can all hear it, and it sounds like a pack of snarling, growling, yelping coyotes, but it's pitch dark

below. But we know they are under us. We run full speed. Not looking back in the car, we yell and drive as fast as we can back onto the dirt road to a well-lit gas station and explained what happened to Tharrel. We couldn't get the girls crying out of our heads, and we went back in daylight just to make sure. We did not find the girl. Instead in the area, we heard the crying and we saw a coyote watching us a close distance away. It was not shy. It looked at us for four seconds. and walked into the brush. I did not go back there after that. This was about a year ago. I lived in Michigan. My older brother was planning a big cruise to Mexico and then invited me to go along. I agreed because I'd never left the country before and I thought it would be a fun trip. So it was a day

before the flight and I went over to my cousins to sleep because our flight was very early and I live 40 minutes away. My cousin's backyard is completely woods with a small creek and it's beautiful down there in the summertime. But it was about March when this happened, so the woods were very bare. It was getting late, and we were all starting to go to bed. I slept in the living room while my cousin went upstairs to bed, with her husband and said good night.

I was up, just facing the window to the woods, because it always takes me a little bit to fall asleep. Then, very faintly, I saw a pair of glowing eyes off in the distance. My mind raced, as I told myself, it was just a deer, But the glowing eyes were getting closer and closer. Then I realized it wasn't a deer. The thing had to be at least nine or ten feet. I was horrified and paralyzed with fear.

It looked like a big wolf or deer that had been decaying. The thing went back into the woods. That night I didn't sleep. When it was about four, I heard my cousin's husband walking down the steps, and I told him about the whole thing that had happened that night. His eyes got very wide and said very quietly, you've seen a skinwalker. I've done some more research about these things,

and I do believe I've seen a skinwalker. I never told anyone the story because I felt like I would be called a liar, but that was one of the scariest moments of my life. To start, I'm a white female. I was adopted seven years ago by my Navajo family, and we've always been close despite my obvious cultural differences.

Still, I learned about Skinwalker's firsthand, and they've since then become an accepted part. part of my life. I left Utah at the end of 2012. The first story happened to my adopted uncle. He was driving through the canyon area. They live in Blanding, Utah, a spot not quite notorious for Skinwalkers, but full of them nonetheless. It was dark outside, but the moon illuminated the canyon and brush, enough for him to see out of his side vision that something was running across the desert night. He was in his 40s, and at the time, he was a police officer, so a full grown man. He started singing and praying in Navajo and kept his eyes on the road in front of him,

but he was driving at least 55 to 60 miles per hour. So the shape running through the desert was keeping pace with him, despite his high speed. He said that it looked very vaguely human shaped, but paler than any human that he'd ever seen. Still, he didn't look directly at it, and despite his singing, he was getting more and more scared. One thing my Navajo family always taught me was that these creatures feed on fear. This one certainly seemed to. My uncle was shaking and sweating when this running thing picked up speed, outpacing his truck, and then it was maybe 30 yards ahead of him. It made a sharp right and began to run towards the road. He knew it was going to directly intersect him, and he made up his mind to put the foot on the gas. So we got closer and he sped up, and just as the

two crossed paths, it jumped onto the road. He saw it for the first time then. He described it as a skinny man in jeans with a plaid shirt, typical reservation wear, with a long face and big yellow eyes that looked like cat eyes. Its arms were thrown up over its head and its hands were kind of flying behind it. The worst part was its mouth was open and seemed disconnected from its jaw. The chin was just flapping around, about a foot below its nose. It leapt under the road and just as quickly jumped out of the way of the truck and he didn't see it again. He prayed the whole way home and they had a ceremony shortly after that. Another encounter happened to my adopted brother,

who was one of the most level-headed and unshakable men I have ever met. He was 30 when this happened. He was at their dad's house, partaking in one of these ceremonies, which happens in a Hogan. The rule is that you never leave the Hogan alone, because the magic and energy that you make in one of those ceremonies is kind of like a supernatural light beacon. You never know what kind of creatures you're attracting.

Still, Eric, my brother, was a pretty rational guy and wasn't afraid of the dark. He's been in the Hogan for hours, chanting and praying, and all that good stuff. He needed a smoke break and to take a leak. So against the general rule, he edged out of the round house and out into the night. There was nothing around except 15 or 20 parked cars, all close to the ceremony area. It was a large gathering, so Eric did his business with no incident and lit up a cigarette. He was standing there, staring off into space when he got that feeling of being watched. To shake it off, he walked away from the Hogan, about 20 feet, and scanned the desert.

Everything was quiet except drums coming from the back of the tent and singing within. Just as he was about to shrug off his weird feeling and chuck his cigarette butt, he saw it. Under one of the vehicles, a dark shape with two shining eyes. The eyes were animal-like. They didn't glow on their own, but had one. reflective light in them, and they glinted right at Eric. They were yellow. The creature didn't have the shape of any animal he'd recognized, though. He explained it to me that, it was shaped like Gallum, really skinny with a round human head. Eric walked towards the vehicle and bent down to get a

closer look. Dusts rabbled around and he could hear a skittering noise. One bony arm shoved gravel his way and the next thing he knew the creature was gone and the vehicle was empty. But then he smelled this disgusting, puk-worthy stench. And he got scared then, because that's one of the worst things in Navajo culture. Bad smells are treated very seriously when they're assumed to be supernatural. So he straightened back up and then he realized the source of the smell. A shadow fell over him, covering him from behind. He is around 6'2, so this thing he said it was at least 7.5 feet. He was shivering and didn't move as it approached him from behind. Until it was standing inches away, he could feel it, he could smell it, see its shadow, and then the worst thing,

he felt it breathe on his neck. Eric said that it sounded like a horse or a cow when it snorts, and its breath was warm. When he looked at his feet, he saw his shoes and behind his right foot, a big hoof. So he closed his eyes and started to sing, and right in that moment, dad and uncle got a terrible feeling from inside the Hogan. They bolted up and exited, calling his name. They found him shivering outside, too terrified to talk, and too terrified to stop singing in Navajo. It took Eric months before he shared this with us, and he did so expecting us to laugh or call him crazy, but I completely believe his story. This just happened mere seconds ago. I'm a 22-year-old female. Of sound mine, pretty but not immaculate, average.

size living in Oklahoma, I have a job and have never had anything that could be considered a mental episode. I live in Tulsa, the second largest city in the state. To give a little backstory, I live in a house with four roommates, all men. I think of them as brothers, and we never really worry about anything like intruders, and always have our three back doors unlocked. Now, to give you a visual aid, I live in the front part of the house, the living area, and two of the doors are the back doors to my roommate's rooms. The back doors lead out to a porch that overlooks our backyard. The backyard is large, though it's a pretty urban area. It snowed a few days ago, and there's still some snow on the ground, and it's freezing.

But there's no smoking in the house. I put on my jacket and throw on some slippers. I grumble to my roommates about having to go outside to smoke alone, but trudge out our back doors anyways. I usually bring my phone or another persons, but this time I didn't. I've been bringing people because I've been hearing strange noises. I'm not the only one either. My other roommates have heard them as well. Sounds that resonate in our backyard, but seem to have no place.

They sort of sound like chimes. The fence surrounding our yard is wood until about halfway up, and then the chain links start. So it's about 12.30 a.m. and I'm on the porch smoking, when something catches my eye. Now I have two cats in my house, my boy cat and my roommate's female cat. There's a cat that wanders around and tries to sneak in from time to time. And I notice this thing that caught my eye as close to the ground and wiggling. I assume it's the cat and start looking around for something to shoe it away. Finding nothing, I resort to building a snowball, and I throw it.

A small one, nothing too big. I don't want to hurt it. I just want it to go on. So I throw the snowball and it hits it. It was then that I realized how big this thing was. As soon as the ball hit it, my entire body filled with an outstanding fear. One that I cannot explain. I was frozen.

I watched this thing slowly stand up from the crouch that it was in. It looked like a man, but gross. Its knees was bent in the wrong way, and it had gross, sagging skin. It was unbelievably tall. Its arms were like twice as long as a person's. Its face was distorted, crinkled with the same. wrinkles that creases its body. It looked at me, and I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. With an inhuman speed, it took off towards the back of my yard, and it was gone. My feet

started moving again, and cigarettes still in hand. I crashed through the doors into my house. I screamed to my roommates to lock the doors and tried to calm my trembling. I can't get the image of this thing out of my mind. I can't calm myself. They keep telling me that I'm tripping, and that can't be real. But it's Christmas. I'm not on any drugs. and I know what I saw. I'm terrified. What do I do? What did I see? Update 1.43 a.m. I forced my roommate to go outside with me, and there are prints in the snow, while I can't confirm that they are the creatures. They appear too large to be that of Tyler's or my own. My cats won't go anywhere near any of the doors, and when we were outside, we heard what sounded like a cat, but it's weird. It had an almost garbled undertone.

The leaves were moving as well. I'm terrified. Update. Last night was the toughest night I've had in a long time. None of my roommates believe me, except for the one that's also seen a skinwalker. All night long there was this very strange tapping and scratching coming from the attic. I couldn't get more than 45 minutes of sleep at a time.

While trading stories around a campfire, my friend recalled an encounter he had while serving an LDS mission. My friend's mission region had a reservation within its boundaries. However, it was relatively far from where he was serving. On occasion, him and his mission companion were asked to travel further than usual. To meet with some investigators, this took them near the reservation. On their way home, their car ran out of gas, and it wasn't until late that night that they were able to continue the journey home. My friend, who was driving while his companion slept in the passenger seat,

chose a different route that took him through the back roads in an attempt to get home sooner. He told us he was driving above the speed limit when he noticed movement in the woods, lining the road. Because coyotes were common in the area, he took a little notice at first. Then he looked out the window and slammed on the brakes. The sudden stop jolted his companion awake, who immediately wanted to know what was wrong. My friend was shaken, and he said he would tell him once they got home. He asked him to say a prayer. By the time they made it home, his companion, was eager to know what happened. My friend told him, I looked down the road next to the car and saw six men running on all fours, keeping up with the car. I was driving 40 miles an hour. I'm from

Southern Ohio. My particular neck of the woods was hilly and full of the Amish. I live deep in the countryside with my father, who was stricken with frequent seizures and was unable to work or live alone. My story takes place early in the autumn of 2014. I was a 26-year-old college dropout at the time and working part-time at a gas station. Thanks to this, I had a lot of free time on my hands, most of which was spent hiking in the woods surrounding my home. On one of my many solo hikes, I saw something that changed me. As stated before, the seasons had just changed to autumn, and the trees were just starting to change into the many brilliant shades that time of years known for. I had decided after one of my shifts at work to get one last extended hike in before the cold

started to set in for the year. I had left the house around 2.30 p.m. and told my dad I'd be back around 7 p.m. for dinner. Warm sun, but with a cooling breeze, remarkably low humidity, and not a cloud in the sky. Perfect weather for a hike. I had been walking alongside a creek using a large branch turned into a makeshift walking stick, my usual route, for around 45 minutes when I realized, the woods were quiet, too quiet. I stopped to listen and aside from the running water to my right, there was not a sound in the forest. After shuddering from a chill, I attributed to a breeze that had cut through the trees. I continued my trek, trying my best to match the silence of the woods with each step. Another 45 to 60 minutes passed, and my trail separated from the creek and began

to loop back around towards my house. I had always dreaded this part of the hike due to the steep hills that laid before me and stopped to take a breather. After resuming my hike, I had made it nearly three-fourths of the way through, when I felt a strong wind at my back, then allowed crack somewhere in front of me. About 40 yards ahead of me and about 15 yards to the right of the trail, a young, white-tailed buck stood alert, but unaware of my presence. After a few seconds of taking in the beauty of the creature, I noticed that the wind was still blowing, and thought it was strange that the buck hadn't noticed me. I had always heard that being upwind of a deer would ensure that you'd be noticed and that the beast would flee. Shrugging it off, I continued walking,

making sure to remain silent as to avoid spooking the buck. After walking about 15 yards, I noticed movement in the direction of the deer. Looking, I noticed he was no longer alert, and began walking slowly through the brush, but I noticed something else as well. The deer was now around 30 yards away from me, but in between us, close to the tree. to the ground, there was a pitch black mass moving under the cover of foliage. It was much closer to the buck and approaching him. He had yet to notice it. I froze, waiting to see what the strange creature was, as coyotes are the only common predator around here, and this was way too large and much too dark to be one of those. After the distance between the two forest dwellers shrunk,

to what couldn't have been more than ten yards, the hidden beast stopped, and with it, the wind. Time seemed to freeze in that moment. The deer suddenly looked in the direction at me and flinched as if it was going to sprint away. But before it could take so much as a step, a large black cat lunged at it and instantly took the deer to the ground. While shocked at the appearance of this foreign predator,

I remembered that there have been stories and eyewitness reports going around for the past couple of years of a large black mountain lion roaming the hills in my county. I could no longer see the animal through the brush, but I didn't need to see to know what it looked like. Quietly, I continued along my path, wanting to avoid disturbing the feasting feline.

As I walked along, I realized I was getting a clearer view of the cucker. It was bigger than I expected, having only seen them on television or in books, and the color was mesmerizing, a deeper black than anything I'd ever seen, almost as if it was pulling the light towards it, never to escape. I stopped to marvel at the cat,

and as I did, it began eating. I felt bad for the deer, but it was the circle of life and all. What felt like minutes couldn't have been more than a few seconds, and I was hit with a horrid smell attributed to the deer. I noticed that the cougar wasn't black all over. Its face and hands were the typical color. Wait, hands? Why did it have hands where the paws should have been?

I began to study the creature more, features which just seconds before were that of a large cat were becoming more human-like before my eyes. What was once a black cougar or mountain lion is now a large, bulky man, with long black hair, and covered in black furs for clothing, eating the deer raw, with only his hands. I couldn't help but let out a quiet gasp, but it wasn't quiet enough. The man stopped and didn't move for a few moments. I knew I had to get out of there, but didn't want him to be able to follow me home.

He hadn't looked at my direction yet, and as he was beginning to stand, without thinking I launched the stick I had been using to aid my hike, back down the path in the direction I came from. After hearing the crash, the man sunk back down and began creeping in that direction, becoming a cat yet again as he moved. Taking my eyes off of him as little as possible, as fast as I could without making a noise, I continued along the path. Once I felt like I was far enough away, I broke into a sprint and didn't stop until I was through my back door. I haven't seen the man or cat since, but I quickly convinced my dad to move to Cincinnati, and haven't been back to those woods, so who knows if he's still around?

I knew about the Wendigo, Skinwalkers, etc. Before my encounter, but though it didn't cross my mind until a few months ago, when I was retelling the story to my younger cousin at Halloween to scare him, the problem is my story doesn't match up to many Skinwalker stories I've heard. In nearly all others, the Skinwalker takes on the form of a dog or related animal, and my part of the country isn't exactly known for them. Anyone know what else it could have been, if not a Skinwalker? A few years ago, 2012 or 13, I think, since I was still in high school then.

I was at a party with some friends, and as the night goes on, maybe 11 or 12 at night, one of my friends and I go outside to have a cigarette. The second we get out there, there's just this completely awful, foul smell, just like vomit and decay all at once. Now this was in the middle of nowhere, so we just figured it was an old animal, and went on having a cigarette. Less than a minute later, we hear something moving in the dark,

and sure enough, a deer comes hobbling into the very edge of the porch light, but then I noticed something. One of its front legs was messed up in some way. I'm talking like broken in multiple places messed up. So my friend and I are slightly put off by this, and finish up our cigarette and go inside. However, right as we start to do that,

one of the two porch light goes pop and then goes out. So now there's less light outside, and the deer goes back into darkness. So, a bit giddy, we both do a fake, scared squeal at each other and turn around and go inside. And that's when we heard it. That undeniable sound of nails on the concrete patio.

We both slowly turn around and see this hunched over, rotten coyote doing this very slow, unnatural crawl toward us. We go from zero to 600, paralyzed with fear, almost instantly, until another one of our friends playfully pulls us through the open door, telling us to get back to the party. To this day, I have not experienced anything like that,

and it's one of the most horrifying things I've ever experienced. When I was 17, I was living in a small town called Orange Grove in Texas. It was a main city, but I lived in the outskirts, so it had no lights, and it's really, really dark and freaky. There are so many stories about this place, and the town next to it, but I never thought I would be able to tell a story myself. It was around mid-December and about midnight. I had just had a fight with my mom and walked out to the road to calm down.

The roads there were narrow and rocky, and next to it is a cornfield. Thankfully, it was empty. But on the right side of me, there was a row of large trees that blocked out most of the land, and you can't really see anything. After walking for about 15 minutes, I started to hear a strange sound. It sounded like a bunch of whistles and howls. And of course, I started to get scared. I was tempted to turn around, but I was still pissed off and I didn't want to go back to my mom's.

I was on the phone with my grandfather, whom was on his way to come pick me up. I figured I would just wait for him, but then my phone suddenly cut off and it said low battery, which is weird because I remember charging it. I put my phone in my pocket and looked toward the trees. At this point, I was stopped and standing in an empty cornfield since it was closer to the road, and a single street light. The light was low. As I was waiting, I could see a car approaching, they had their high beams on, and it was those really bright ones where the car doesn't even have to be close, and you can see everything.

It was at that moment I saw it hiding on the side of a tree. I nearly threw up at the side of this thing. Its body looked about the size of a cow, but its head and neck were long. It had wavy hair throughout its neck and on top of its head, like it was a person. The rest of the body was a lighter color and didn't look right. I heard those howls and whistles again, and I saw it making its way across the road. I was not as scared because I figured the car would see it and either hit it or stop and look at it, and I can just run back.

But the car turned into one of the streets, and this thing was just walking to where I was. I ran to the street lamp and even passed it. A few seconds later, this thing comes walking into the light, and I can see it clearly now. Its face looked like it was human, but the mouth was elongated like a snake or a dragon, and its mouth was covered with teeth. I nearly puked and started crying. My life flashed before my eyes, and I heard its howl begin to get closer.

It must have been a miracle or something, but my grandfather drove up to the road just behind me and told me to get in after shouting. After all of this happened, I asked him if he knew what that thing was, and he didn't say anything. He just drove me to his house and never mentioned it. The next day I told my brother, and he thought it was funny,

until later that night I heard a kitten meowing, at his window. It's weird because my brother and his girlfriend have a weakness for cute things and were about to go out and find it, but for some reason I felt uneasy and said, just wait and leave it. We could hear something meowing, getting lower and lower, until it got demonic, and it was just a long meow with some other sounds and whistles. Then it stopped, and we heard a loud scratch and a bang at the window. I didn't sleep at night for months after this. It wasn't until my friend Colin, who took interest in it, told me that his sister, had been seeing something like that in the same road that I had, about four nights after I had seen it,

and that it tried to run her off the road. Then another friend said she would see something peeking out of the cornfields when it was full, and he could see something very large crashing through it. About a week later, Colin went to the police station to ask about the road, and learned there were a lot of open investigations of missing people spanning from 10 years back. To this day, I never go down that road at night, and I'll never forget what I saw. So when I was four years old, I lived in a small neighborhood, decently wooded. I would have terrible nightmares in this house. I would always have the same dream.

I'd be outside facing the woods and see a towering black figure. I never could see anything other than the outline, and I'd be in a panic and slowly walk to my house and look at myself sleep, like it would be an out-of-body experience, and I'd wake up sweating. So after I had this dream five or so times, I awoke to a tapping at my window, and had an awful stench fill my nose. And I heard a voice, it was more in my head, though,

saying something like come outside. And I walked to my door, and I saw the gigantic figure from my dream, peering through me with yellow eyes, and I passed out from fright at the moment. I woke up on the floor at 6 a.m. And I thought I had dreamed it, and went back to bed,

being the little kid I was. This experience dubbed my anxiety. It happened about four months ago. I lived in the Texas Panthers, handle. I was in my room talking to my girlfriend at the time. She's of Navajo descent and I had my window open and I heard what sounded like an old-time radio static and smelled rotting meat, so I looked out my window and saw a coyote, standing seven feet tall on its back legs looking around. So I shut and locked everything up. I heard tapping on the window for the rest of the night. I told my girlfriend

what happened the next morning and she came over and blessed me in the house and everything in it. Then she blest herself and her household, and I haven't seen one since. When I was about five years old, I used to live in an isolated region in Arizona, in the Navajo Reservation near a little town called Steamboat. The land belonged to my great-grandmother, and not much was built there, only a couple houses and some graves. I used to love it there, me just running around with all of this land to explore. I live there with my two brothers and one sister, mother, stepfather, and great-grandma. Being Navajo, I commonly used to hear the term Skinwalker, and how they can curse people just by taking such things like the victim's hair, urine, nails, and saliva.

I never really thought much about it, though, until that one night. It was a typical, busy, cold night. My parents left somewhere for the night with my great-grandmother, and my older brother and sister headed into town. All there was was me and my brother, who was about seven at the time. I decided to go to sleep, being ordered to by my mom, who had just left minutes after I fell asleep. Being asleep, I was alarmed by what seemed to be knocks at my window. I didn't really think much about it. Instead, I tried to fall back asleep, hoping my mom returns back soon.

I go back to sleep. I woke up in shock, barks coming from all around the house. These didn't sound like our dogs we had at the ranch, as all of them sounded exactly the same when compared to each other. It sounded like four or five surrounding the house. I was scared, being only five, I had no idea what to do. Those five minutes of hiding under the blanket crying as four or five coyotes surround the house. I looked in the living room and the TV was on with my stepdad sleeping.

Made my way into the living room and tried to wake up my mom. She wakes up with the barking continuing. Just go to sleep, though go away. I try to sleep, crying, scared, traumatized. The next morning was strange, no sleep. No acknowledgement. No one was talking about it. It was like it never happened. Mom remembers it, but she doesn't talk about it. My stepfather runs into the house. The sheep. We rushed outside, leaving our food behind, and what happened to our sheep was devastating.

They were all gone. No trace. Nothing. So far, I'm clueless and why the sheep were gone. And where those coyotes came from. The first thing that I can remember of that night was it was a cold, crisp evening out in the pasture. The grass was tall and crunched beneath me with every footstep. I saw a dried red trail and I thought it was a deer that had been injured. I brushed it off. I kept walking until about midnight and it was even colder than when I started. I had walked for miles and was about to turn home.

I felt a presence, so I looked back and saw my friend smiling at me. I could smell a horribly putrid smell coming from the direction of him with every gust of wind. I didn't think much of it. I asked him what he was doing here. With his small, quiet voice, he replied, I thought I would just drop by and join you on a walk. He usually doesn't walk with me,

so that's when I began to become curious about what he was really doing here. I began to catch up with him because I haven't seen him in a week or two. I asked him a few questions, and of course, he replied. It didn't really sound like him, though. I finished my walk and he went away. Later, as I was laying in bed, I thought about attending a funeral. I couldn't exactly remember whose it was. I left that thought and went to a happy one and then drifted into slumber.

The next day seemed pretty normal. I woke up, ate breakfast, etc. I even went into town to grab a few things from the store, like some gas, groceries, and other stuff like that. I came home and stocked my pantries and sat down to see what was on the news. I found out that a man went missing. I didn't hear the name or see the picture because the TV lost signal. I started to feel uneasy. I didn't know what for. I thought I would just keep that to myself.

It sounded like a good idea, so I stuck with it. I carried out the rest of my day normally. Later, I got ready to go for a walk. It was getting dark out, so I grabbed my flashlight and headed out. A few hours passed, and it was really dark outside. My friend appeared out of nowhere, and then began talking like normal. He still smelled terrible and wasn't acting right. I began to think back to what I thought the night before. I remembered I was going to my friend's funeral. He had been missing. He died. How was he here right now? I put two and two together and finally realized what was before me. From all those stories I've heard, Skinwalkers tend to stink terribly, and they take on the shape of whatever animal or person they got to. The head looks very much like my friends.

I realized that when it started to grow its legs out, it says, you look like you saw a ghost. an expression that had been a mix of anger and adrenaline. It was what a killer looks like before they get somebody. I saw all the skin that was previously on it melt off and it turned into a 10-foot tall gray thing. And when it turned slowly back to its bony structure, I just stood there, almost to the point of insanity with fright. It stared into the deepest part of my soul and I felt it. With all of my might, I ran off into the forest. That thing followed me. I found a trail that led deeper into the trees. My flashlight beam was dancing side to side while I ran. It was one of the most hypnotizing things to me. It was until I stumbled and almost fell. I hastily regained my balance and

kept running. It was getting harder to see. My flashlight, the batteries were wearing out on it. I had to find a place to hide or tire this thing out enough so I could change the batteries. I knew that thing was just trying to tire me out because it didn't look like it was straining at all. It looked like it could do that for hours at a time, so that told me my second option wasn't a choice for consideration. After about 100 yards of sprinting, I took a sharp corner and climbed up a tree real fast, and it kind of worked. That thing was puzzled on where I went. I didn't realize it, but I had my hand over my mouth trying not to make a sound. It screeched.

I had goosebumps so big, my shirt shrunk two sizes. It sent shivers down my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck, stand straight up. It sounded like a bird with the screech of a demon mixed together. I could not believe how it sounded. I had only heard something like that once before when my teacher would put her nails on the chalkboard and slide them. I silently changed the batteries on my flashlight and reassembled it. I took off one of the old batteries and chucked it into the woods further off. I heard it crashing in the distance and heard the thing take off after it. It sounded like it was a car on the highway. It just took off. I climbed down and ran in the opposite direction of which I threw the

battery. I turned my flashlight back on and started going faster. There was some deer running behind me. I thought nothing of it and went on. That thing came up from behind and got one of the deer. I stopped to catch my breath. The dust from the path had kicked up and now blinded me from the view of that thing, and hopefully it had lost all side of me too. I was wrong. I heard those same words coming from nowhere but everywhere at once. It had a slight echo to it. In a faint whisper I heard, You look like you saw a ghost. How about I comfort you? From the thick dust.

It jumped down next to me from above. It screeched and ran after me. I had already started running. I had tried to jab a stick into it, but it stayed alive and full of energy. I got lucky. It got tired. It stopped after hours of running. I found a stream.

I took a few sips from its clean, fresh water. I sat down on a stump. It was soaked. I turned my flashlight on and looked where I had been sitting. It was red. smelled like iron and was dripping. It was coming from my leg. The skin walker got it. I took the sock off and tied it around my leg. It burned, but the dripping slowed. I knew I better get a move on before something else happens. I was in the middle of the field when I heard a screech. I just ran home.

I was soon there and the gash was bad. I got some rubbing alcohol and poured it on there. It burned like a fuse of a firework on the 4th of July. I got some water, then rinsed it out. I felt a little burn from the alcohol but not much more. The sun was coming up so I made some coffee and went into my Saturday and got out of there. I have told this story many times over and almost nobody believes me. I was almost put into a padded room with a straitjacket on because they thought I was crazy. That was until they saw the scar. There was almost nothing that could match the look of that gash. It had the signature mark from a skinwalker. I say again, almost nothing could match it. I remember back to this night sometimes and wondered to myself. What would have happened if I stopped? That never leaves my

mind. Sometimes when I'm asleep, I dream back to that night when I was awakened. I have that same feeling of being watched. I feel like I'm being stalked. I still hear those footsteps and screeches coming from the dark forest every once in a while. There's nothing like them. This happened when I was 15 years old. I had an aunt and uncle and they lived on a rural farm in the middle of Washington in a small town. My grandmother lived in a cottage about a hundred feet from the main house, and my grandma had a dog named Maggie, and she's about 11 years old. I had my mom make my bed on the couch, and this house was very small. Every part could be seen from the front window, and I was right underneath that. The window had a view of a road with tall pine trees behind it, so I finally drift

off to sleep as my family were all watching a movie. I woke up and everything was dark out, But the thing was I heard the dog walking around. I brushed it off and decided to get up to go to the restroom and I realized there was no dog and my grandma's room was closed and the dog always sleeps with her. It hit me like a truck. So the restroom was unfortunately on the other side of the house in the far corner of the property. I decided to just go behind a tree because I was going outside. I crept into my grandmother's room and grabbed the dog. As we walked out the door, the dog started to whimper and she ran out of the door.

and she ran out of the door to the edge of the road and just stared into the woods. I yelled for her to get back, but she wouldn't. She just sat and stared. I had to go and grab her to drag her back into the house. When I reached her, I decided to look where she was, and I saw nothing. So I went to the restroom and went back into the house. I put Maggie back into my grandma's room and went to sleep. It was about 3.14 a.m.

But I woke up sometime later by the sound of a dog walking again. So I got up and saw that my grandma's mom. room was open, so I thought it was Maggie, but then I looked and the front door was wide open and I froze in fear. Then I found the courage to look outside. So I went and walked through the door and I saw a trail of red leading from the door to the road. I followed the trail into the woods, and then I saw Maggie in a tree, and I looked at what was holding her. It was a tall-looking man, I thought at first, but had very distorted features, and then I realized it looked like a deer. I froze and ran back into the cottage.

I was so scared, I yelled for my family, and they ran out of the rooms, and I explained what I had seen to them. So my dad went out and I followed them, and he froze in fear before me, and he turned around and ran back into the house. I chased him, and he told me what he had seen and described the same thing as me the next day. We packed up and left, and haven't been back since. A few years ago, 2012 or 13, I think, since I was still in high school then. I was at a party with some friends, and as the night goes on, maybe 11 or 12 at night, one of my friends and I go outside to have a cigarette. The second we get out there, there's just this completely awful, foul smell,

just like vomit and decay all at once. Now this was in the middle of nowhere, so we just figured it was an old animal, and went on having a cigarette. Less than a minute later, we hear something moving in the dark, and sure enough, a deer comes hobbling into the very edge of the porch light, But then I noticed something. One of its front legs was messed up in some way. I'm talking like broken in multiple places messed up.

So my friend and I are slightly put off by this, and finish up our cigarette and go inside. However, right as we start to do that, one of the two porch light goes pop and then goes out. So now there's less light outside, and the deer goes back into darkness. So, a bit giddy. We both do a fake, scared squeal at each other

and turn around and go inside. and that's when we heard it. That undeniable sound of nails on the concrete patio. We both slowly turn around and see this hunched over, rotten coyote doing this very slow, unnatural crawl toward us. We go from zero to 600, paralyzed with fear, almost instantly, until another one of our friends playfully pulls us through the open door,

telling us to get back to the party. To this day, I have not experienced anything like that, and it's one of the most horrifying things I've ever experienced. I live in the mountains about 10 miles outside of a small town, near a winding backroad highway well known for its many accidents, a lot of which happen to be collisions with animals, deer, small rodents, and sometimes more often than not, mountain lions. I grew up in the country my whole life, so I've seen just about every animal my side of the state has to offer, whether alive or roadkill. Recently, I saw one that I could neither identify or rationalize. My husband's

and I had stopped by for dinner with his co-workers in town down the winding road from our home. Once it grew close to midnight, I knew we should be getting home. My husband insisted he wanted to stay a little bit longer to have a drink with his buddy. Reluctantly, I agreed he could stay. Even though he knows, I hate going home late at night by myself. We have about a half a mile of driveway leading to our home, which is blocked off by a padlocked gate. I get paranoid every time I have to get out of my car to unlock the gate pole inside. then relocked the gate behind me. Not that I'm afraid of something attacking me, but way up in the country a wild animal mauling me. The number of mountain lions and bears in our area was

definitely above average. I headed back home alone, my husband promising he'd only be out for another hour. I took the dangerous road extra cautiously in the evening. The thick cover of trees surrounding the road made it pitch black. After finally arriving at my road, I hit the gravel fast, eager to get inside. What I saw next made me. me slam on my bricks so hard I fish tailed a bit and scattered gravel every which way. What I saw barely two feet in front of my car was incomprehensible. It looked almost like a human figure at first. Its ribs stuck out so far it took a barrel shape.

It was hunched over, but if it stood up straight it had to be at least eight feet tall. Tufts of mattered hair all over its body. What skin shone through appeared to be mangled, long limbs resembling human arms but too thin and discolored. legs arched like wolves, it had no sign of a human face. The face it had seemed to be a snout that contained a sharp set of canine teeth that shone and snarled at me. My eyes locked with its piercing yellow eyes. It stared me down for what felt like an eternity. Then all of a sudden it broke our gaze, swiftly disappearing into the woods. I was so scared I sat in my car

until my husband arrived home after an hour later. He had to knock on my window to get my attention. He questioned me about it once we were in the safety of our own home. I've been dealing with paranormal experiences with spirits since I was a child, but my husband says he has never seen me this shook up before. I'll take a ghost over that creature any day. This is a story I was told by one of the other guides who had spent around six years guiding canoe trips in the lake of the woods. Let's call him Stephen.

I want to remind you that I did not experience this, but Stephen had told me about a few experiences he and the other guides he worked with had. What I do want you to know is that we do not joke around about Wendigows or Skinwalkers at our workplace. We do not tell these stories to our campers anymore, and we don't even say their name but refer to them only as W. This is not something that we joke about,

or just make up to scare campers. I'm not an expert in Wendigows or Skinwalkers or Native American culture by any means, and I hope not to offend anyone, but the knowledge that I have on them has been passed down by guides, and their experiences. One detail that I should explain before I tell Stephen's story is that a definite way to tell that you are seeing a Wendigo or a skinwalker as if the animal or creature has too bright, glowing red or yellow eyes. One summer, about five to six years ago, Stephen had a couple encounters with the Wendigo. His first encounter was on an earlier trip in the summer,

where their destination was into Shoal Lake. It was a six-day trip, which had about 60 miles of paddling and taking your packs and canoes over the land to another lake into shoal. On day four, they were going out of shoal through a portage called headman's portage. Sounds made up from some scary story. No idea why they call it that, but it's quite fitting. There was a campsite that is pretty frequently used about half a mile from the portage. We just called the campsite Headmans. Stephen and his trip left Shoal Lake aiming to get through Headman's portage

and stay at the campsite right after it. It's a little long, but a nice highway of portals. without too many ups and downs. I believe the Canadian Park Service even clears out this portage, which may be the only one that is frequently maintained in the lake of the woods. The short paddle from the portage to the campsite is just surreal and beautiful. It's through a little stream, with 10 to 15 foot cliffs on both sides covered in moss and beautiful cedars.

Stephen and his trip got to Headman's campsite, and later on, just before they were going to bed, they discovered they left their sleeping bag at the end of the portage. the portage. It was around nine, so it was getting pretty dark by this point. Stephen and a camper set off in a canoe with their headlamps quickly to retrieve the pack. The paddle took them about a half hour, and at this point you could really only see what your headlamp was shining on. They grabbed the bag and started to head back. Shortly after leaving, Stephen started to hear loud splashes and things falling from the water behind them. He dismissed it at first because

beavers are pretty common in this area, and when they slapped their tails, it sounds pretty identical to a huge rock being chucked into the water. But the splashes kept going, and were right on his back as they kept paddling. Stephen looked behind him to see a huge rock around the size of a baseball come flying at him and land into the water at his side. They began to paddle like crazy to get back to the campsite and away from whatever was chucking these giant super heavy rocks at them. Stephen looked back between the paddles and on one of the cliffs about 15 feet up, he saw two distinct red glowing eyes on top of it. The rocks stopped and they made it back okay. The rest of their trip went along nicely without any other occurrences, but I never

feel great about going through Headman's Portage and triple check that I don't have any bags there when I do. This story takes place about two years ago. My aunt, married into the family, has cousins, not related to me, who live on a farm in La Point, Utah, on a reservation, and thought it would be fun to have all us other cousins go stay with her for a few days and see the dinosaur a national monument. My aunt's grandmother had recently passed away and her house was basically empty so we went to stay there. It was a pretty old house to say the least. It was made out of painted white cedar blocks and was pretty run down, but we were only staying there a few days so we didn't care how luxurious it was. The front door led into a small kitchen and off the

kitchen to the right was a small room with a TV, two couches and a chair. Off of that room was a larger living area with two more pull-out couches and a door leading to the side of the house. Off the living room was a hall that led into two small bedrooms and a bathroom. It was a pretty small house considering we had around 18 people staying there. Along with the old and empty house we were staying in, there were two other houses on the property belonging to my aunts, cousins, and their families. These were the only houses for about two miles. There were 12 kids in total, ranging from 3 to 16, me being the oldest.

as well as the two other kids who lived in the other houses who wanted to come stay with us. We all slept on the pull-out couches and the floor. Other than the parents, there were two other people who were staying there. They were soon to be married, so they were staying there for a few days before the wedding. It was a whole big mess of people, but bear with me. They didn't want to sleep in the same house because they weren't married, and religion and all this crap. So the guy, we'll call him B, was sleeping in the small camper outside while his fiancé slept in one of the bedroom. Now we can actually get to the creepy stuff.

On the first night we were there, me and one of my cousins were on the pull-out couch in the first little room, while all the other kids were either on the other couches or on the floor, in either our room or the other. It was about midnight. Most of the kids were already asleep. We were watching Disney movies and dozing off when we started to hear strange noises outside toward the field. It sounded like low growling and panting, but not entirely like it was coming from an animal.

There was just this weird, human-like sound to it. I assumed it was some sort of stray animal and got up to see when one of the other kids who lived next door, we'll call him L, jumped up and told me just to ignore it and go to sleep. I was really confused and the noises were still happening, but the terrified look on his face told me I should listen. The creature would pace around the house and stop at the door by the kitchen for a few minutes before continuing to circle the house. Neither of us got any sleep that night.

The next night was basically the same setup. Kids sleeping everywhere, movies playing, a few people still dozing off. I was exhausted from the night before and managed to fall asleep. When I was woken up by one of the youngest kids, quietly crying and crawling into bed with me, we'll call him A. I asked him what was the matter, and he said he was scared by the big dog outside the window. I turned to L and asked if they had a dog. He looked completely scared out of his mind and said no, and told me to ignore it once again.

I stayed up for a while after that, watching movies with A, when he asked me to walk with him to the bathroom. A little bit of explanation before I continue. This house was shaped like a short L, the bottom part being the kitchen and the two living rooms, and where it turns was the hallway with the bedrooms and the bathroom. The bathroom was right at the beginning of the hall. There was a small window to where you could see the wall, where the first living room was, straight ahead, along with the window that you could see through into the living room, where we were sleeping, and then the rest of the house to the left.

Anyways, I was walking A to the bathroom and switch on the light when I see it. An extremely tall, dog-like creature standing on its hind legs facing the window looking into the living room. Its fur was matted and its eyes seemed to be almost glowing orangish red. Its hands looked human-like,

but with dark fur and long claws. I screamed and the creature ran back around the side of the house on its hind legs. I picked up A and carried him back to the living room to quickly find L closing the curtains. What was that? I whispered to Elle. I don't know. If you ignore it, it'll go away, he whispered back. You've seen it before? Only a couple times, but not recently. Our talking woke up Elle's younger sister, and surprisingly nobody else. I'm guessing she knew what was going on because she seemed

just as scared as we were. I sat A down on the bed and turned the TV up louder, drowning out the sounds of the creature was making outside, and hoping to calm A down a bit and take our minds off whatever the hell we just saw. The noises circling the house continued for about another half hour. When they stopped at the back door in the other room, I peered my head around the corner to face the door. The door handle on the first door started to move back and forth. You could see the silhouette of something huge behind it. I rushed over to shut and lock the other door, trying not to wake anyone else. Just as I did, B, guys sleeping in the camper outside, also El's uncle, burst through the kitchen door, slamming it behind him.

Elle asked B what was going on, but he didn't want to say another word and rushed down the hall and into the bedroom with his fiancee. He came out holding a shotgun and pulled a chair into the corner of the living room, giving him a view of both the kitchen and the back door. He gave us a look of both terror and anger. He told us to go back to sleep. We didn't. He sat there all night until the noises stopped around sunrise, then went back outside into the camper without saying a word. I'm surprised no one else woke up and no one else knows what happened that night. The next morning there were huge paw prints around the house, and B was discussing something with Elle's dad who lived in one of the other houses. They both looked concerned and scared. It was very

unsettling. We left later that day for reasons I can't remember, but I'm glad we did. I didn't want to spend another night in that house and I'm pretty sure that what we saw that night was a Skinwalker. This story belongs to a friend of mine. He told me this once and I simply have to tell it. My friend is of Native American heritage, a tribe who settled the North Pacific West Coast. He is quite the character. For one, he is a whopping 6'10, and he has the blackest eyes you could imagine. He always has this frowning face going on, which makes him seem even more intimidating. He is everything but a bad guy. In fact, he is the most gentle of giants. He was working at a gas station up north back in 1992, and he pretty much always worked

the graveyard shift from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. Business wasn't exactly booming at nights, so he was usually watching TV or reading magazines between customers, and there were a few. The area he lived and worked in was deeply associated with all things Native American. There was a potent sense of pride in the surrounding communities, but also a very distinct presence of superstition and old traditions. My friend was no exception. He was a firm believer of the ways of old.

This made his encounter even more terrifying. One night, he was sitting as usual, watching TV when a customer entered the gas station. The customer paid for his gas, a pack of smokes, and some soda, and returned to his car. Nothing unusual. But my friend looked out the window toward the customer's car, and he spotted what looked like a huge dog sitting by the edge of the woods. Now, the window was located on the side of the building, some distance from the door. door, overlooking the pumps and the roof covering it. On the sides of the roof are pretty strong lights which shine into the gas station. This gives the gas station not only an eerie

lighting with the blinds casting long, striped shadows, but also blinds the teller to an extent. As he peered through the window trying to focus on the dog, it was gone. He didn't think much of it, even if it was a wolf. He was inside and wolves don't tend to rob gas stations at night. Wolves were common here, but this wolf was huge. He brushed it off and returned to his mindless watching of TV. A couple of hours go by and not a single customer has entered since the last one. He was just about to refill some condiments when he heard a large thud coming from the back. It wasn't inside, he could hear that.

But it came from the back. And behind the building, they kept the garbage. The gas station had been visited before by the scavenging homeless. But my friend didn't really care. It wasn't his garbage, and it was just garbage. garbage, let them take it. But it kept getting louder. He decided to grab a flashlight and a gun from the office and circle around back to tell whoever ventured there to leave. His presence alone would have scared off anyone, but he wanted to feel safe just in case. He exited through the sliding

doors, walking past the window he was just sitting by. As he turned the corner, he shines a light towards the dumpsters. As the cone of light hits the dumpsters, my friend instantly drops the flashlight and the gun. It's the huge dog he saw before, scouring, through the garbage. It wasn't a dog though. It clearly stood on its hind legs, reaching the same height as him. It couldn't be a bear as it was too gaunt. The creature's eyes had been glowing in the light of the flashlight, making it even more terrifying. He ran inside the gas station and wasn't followed. He locked the door, stayed inside the whole night, and quit the next day. My friend is convinced that he saw a skinwalker, a shape-shifting shaman of sorts, which are a common occurrence

in the Native American lore and culture. It's just a really creepy story. I'm not sure what to think of what happened. I may just be overthinking things, or my sister may have just been joking with me. I figured I would share my small story here in case anyone had any insight on what happened. However, I don't quite believe anything is monstrous

as I suspect to be at fault. I probably just misheard. For perspective, I will tell you that I live out of the southern part of British Columbia, Canada. I live a good hour and a half away from the nearest town by car, and my home is completely surrounded by forest with a few distant neighbors. It is not uncommon for us to see and hear coyotes, wolves, bears, and cougars, so we have a large dog for protection.

However, the latest dog passed on, so our new protector is just a puppy, and she's not very brave just yet. And I don't think she could have helped the situation if she wanted to. It happened the summer after my graduation. I got a call from one of my neighbors asking if I could tend to her garden while her and her husband went on a fishing trip. I took the walk down the hill with my dog through the brush so that she could lay out the details of specific care her plants would need. My family has known this woman since we moved into our home 20 years ago, and as children we would all go down and visit her, make her cards and chat, and she would allow us to play in her swimming pool in the summer.

I trust her completely and have house sat for her before. So it was no odd request for my sister and I to go help out. The garden was new and absolutely beautiful. I have a garden of my own, but it was nothing compared to hers, which was gated and was in pristine condition. The mosquitoes were horrid, so she made her instructions short, and I retreated back up the hill to inform my little sister of our assignment. The first day was terribly hot.

My sister and I attempted to get up early to evade the heat and bloodsuckers, but in the end they were all sitting in the shade waiting for us to arrive. It took a full hour and a half to completely soak the entire garden, and by then we were sweating, bloody, itchy, and irritable from all of our newfound bite marks. We were supposed to water the garden every morning so that the sun wouldn't dry up the water throughout the day. So I got up early to wake my sister, who after yesterday's assignment refused to go down with me, protesting that she wanted to sleep in and to leave her alone. Not wanting to be held responsible for the demise of my neighbor's veggies, I reluctantly trotted down the path to my neighbors, Both my dogs were off on some squirrel-infested adventure, so my trek was made alone.

Only a few birds that morning, until I made it farther down, and the closer I got, the quieter it became. My attention, however, was on the sun, and I wanted to finish my task ASAP. When I was almost done, I took a stretch and went to turn off the hose, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Across the field, from the garden, I thought I heard a person, which would have been very odd, So I stood still to listen. What I heard was my sister calling my name in a shrill voice.

My sister and I would often call each other in strange exaggerated screeches and voices in just that particular way. I knew for a fact that my sister is far too lazy to hike all the way down and sneak through the brush across the field just to yell at me. I listened again but heard nothing. Finishing up, I assumed I had just misheard, believing it to have been a bird or something, though the odd happening struck in my mind. Later on, I referred the account to my sister who laughed and joked with me that this must

have been the creature her friend told her about. The creature she was referring to was called Wendigo or Skinwalker. I honestly don't know the difference between the two. I don't know what these creatures are or if they actually exist, but if they were to, they're supposed to live in this kind of area. I put it out of my mind anyway, not believing in such things. The next day I was with my sister attending the garden and my dog came down to see us. I was shocked to see her paw was all bloody, thinking that she had cut herself on a piece of sheet metal.

I ran with her back up to the house to see if I could clean and fix it. My sister didn't want to come up with me, so she stayed in the garden to finish up watering her part. It turned out the blood of my dog's paw was not her own, and that she had simply caught an unfortunate pack rat, whom she delightedly tore to pieces. When I came back, my sister wasn't in the garden. Confused, I began to walk to my neighbor's house when she came outside to meet me. She told me she had heard her name being called from across the field in my voice, in the same way I heard mine. She was visibly spooked and insisted we go back up to our house and leave the garden for tomorrow.

I refused and told her she could go up without me if she wanted, but I had to finish the garden. I suspected she was only kidding with me, and I was waiting for her to give up right away, like she normally would. Instead, she stayed with me, holding her arms and refused to walk home alone. Once we finished, we both came back together for the next three mornings to water the garden, and no other occurrence has happened. To this day, my sister claims she wasn't lying. I'm not sure if these creatures are supposed to be smart enough or talented enough to pull off stunts so specific. We have lived in the same house in the middle of the woods for our whole lives,

and we can be loud and silly without fear of annoying anyone. But if someone or something had been close enough to listen, they definitely had plenty of time to do so. Also, how these occurrences only happened when we were alone gives me goosebumps. If you have any answers for me, I would appreciate any info you have. I won't reveal who I am or much about where I live, and to be honest, it's been a few months since this happened, but I just came to terms with it now, and I have to warn people about what's out there, what they knew, what we don't. Warning, this is a very long read, and some of the content below is very disturbing,

but I can't hold back, so... Here's my story. Occasionally, I like to go hiking with my friends. There's not much more to do, honestly. We live in a small mountain town in Colorado. It was fun at first, but by now, we know the trails by heart. By the end of the summer, there was only one we hadn't tried. Now, there's a reason for that.

The trail goes right through a portion of the forest that the Ute people consider to be sacred. I'll admit, I have hang-ups when it comes to these things. You don't wear hats in church, you don't let the American flag touch the ground. You don't trudge all over somebody's sacred land for the fun of it. Still, my friend, we'll call him Mark, convinced me to go. He said that regardless of whether I went, he'd go anyway, and since no one else was going, he managed to get me to go with him. That's one of my other hang-ups. Don't go hiking alone. Don't let friends go hiking alone. Too many tragic news stories start that way. So I ended up going with him reluctantly. The whole way there, he was talking about

how this was the coolest trail he'd ever been on. Yes, he'd been there before, though only once. His ploy had been to get me to come with him, so he could show me. He admitted this in the casual way that friends admit being jerks to friends. Sometimes I didn't blame him. I had a tendency to have a stick up my butt, and what followed only reinforced it. We arrived at about nine, I remember, giving us plenty of time. It was farther away from the town than most trails, and it wasn't near a paved road, so there was a lot of water. just to get there. No tourists knew about it. A lot of locals and even some Ute didn't know about it. But if you followed a game trail through a bunch of trees,

it would widen out and lead its way through some mountains, densely forested terrain. What struck me was how quiet it was. This, apparently, was what Mark found so awesome. For some reason, in this particular place you couldn't hear any birds chirping or any wildlife whatsoever. It was complete and utter silence. Eventually I had to go to the bath, and I stepped off the main road, just so Mark wouldn't see me. As I was going, I spotted something through the trees. It looked like some sort of clearing, just past the shallow creek, with a log going over it. My curiosity got the better of me, and I looked at the log.

It didn't seem to be an act of nature. It was a makeshift bridge, I was sure. True enough, when I tested it, it seemed to be stable. I put one foot in front of the other, and crossed. When I reached the other side, I pulled my way through some trees and saw the first image of the day that I will never forget, though to many it wouldn't have seemed like much. In front of me, there was vegetation, trees, ferns, brush, but suddenly, it all stopped. Within a perfect circle, surrounded by a small, perfectly arranged rocks, there was nothing but smooth

dirt. It was strange, not in the least because the shape of the rocks was absolutely perfect. They were partially submerged in soil and fit together like bricks. Every single one of them was the same, uniform white color. got closer, I saw things had been carved on them, symbols. They were old, very old. Even if I had understood them, their distinct shapes had been lost over the years. That was strange, but what disturbed me was that this circle wasn't actually perfect. On one edge, just one, a group of rocks had been kicked up. They were scattered around, as if they actually had been in a perfect brick wall, and something shattered them. In this area, the otherwise perfectly smooth dirt had been kicked up.

There was something about it that just unsettled me. As quiet as the entire forest was, it felt quieter here. I quickly turned around and went back to Mark, who made some lame old number two joke. I should have forced him to leave right there. Instead, though, we kept going. After all, the day was only half over. While the forest itself was cool, at least Mark's perspective, I found the trail to be rather disappointing.

It just went on and on. There was no alternate paths, and there was hardly any challenging terrain. For Colorado, this whole area was so flat, it was hardly a hike at all. The trail was just long, very long. It took us until noon to reach the end. There was no one else on it. I know that it was a hard trail to find, and many of the other locals might share my sentiments, but we were there all day and we didn't run into anyone.

Of course, it wasn't until we reached the end that things started to get really weird. The trail didn't loop at all, and I inwardly groaned knowing that we would have to walk these same three boring hours back. We took our time eating our lunch. As we did, I swear I could hear noises for the first time. There were animals moving through the forest nearby. We could hear the rustling of the brush. I looked and saw through the foliage the vague outline of a single buck's head moving past us. It was odd, but I dismissed it. We packed up what was left of our lunches and start the trek back. Every once in a while, I would hear the rustling again. I look into the trees and oftentimes I would see the buck's head. Eventually, though, I noticed it was making far too much noise.

and it was doing so far too frequently. Mark told me to slow down and stop, and being Mark, he cracked a joke about it, but finally he went silent, and we both still heard the rustling. Now even Mark was a little freaked out. He turned around and saw the vaguest outline of the buck's head again. This time to me, there seemed to be something wrong. The head was far too high up, around the higher branches of the trees. I noticed it. Mark didn't. I should have said something, but I didn't have time. Just as I was there, it was a very, it was a little gone again, going off further into the forest. I remember Mark talking about how the deer was annoying as hell, about how he was going to scare it off or something. I don't remember exactly

what he said, and that bothers me, because I should remember. He was one of my best friends. I do remember him yelling at it, and at the time it was funny. Hey Buck, yeah, you, leave us alone. He walked off the road and disappeared down the ridge, behind a layer of trees pursuing it. For a minute there was silence. That minute became three. 2. Mark? I called out. No answer. Five minutes pass. I climbed down the ridge after him. Mark. I followed the general direction he had gone in, keeping the way back to the road in my mind. I wouldn't go far. I knew, because he was smart enough to not go far. He hadn't. After a short time, I found a place where there was no signs of struggle. In addition, there was blood. There was a lot

of blood. It was all over the trees and all over the ground. I cursed to myself. There were other things too in addition to the blood, pieces of flesh that I didn't like to look at. There were marks showing that something had been dragged away from here. Mark, I called out, ferociously now. Forgetting the trail for a second, I ran forward along the drag marks. After running too far to be safe, I reached a small ravine, with a creek running through it. I narrowly stopped myself.

It wasn't a long drop, but it would hurt you, and a sprained ankle in the middle of the forest was bad news. The trail stopped here. I murmured. Then called out again, Mark. I heard something, but it wasn't Mark. Across the ravine from me, I heard rustling and saw the tree stirring. Something stepped through the brush and revealed itself.

It was the second image burned into my mind. Please give me a second. I've spent every single day for the past few months trying to tell myself it wasn't real. At first, I saw a head, ahead of a buck. But it came forward, and I realized that it was at least seven feet above the ground. I was staring at a seven-foot creature straight in the face that had a massive buck's head, but a humanoid body. The creature snorted, its buck face remained neutral, scared-looking even,

as if it wasn't sure of the malicious whims of the body beneath it. There was blood dripping from its horns, which were not like the horns of an average buck, but jagged, pointed, and unorganized, a mess of sharp points. Its human body was dark-skinned and naked. I remember both of its arms and legs. They started human, but near the bottom they distorted and became animalistic. At the end of its legs were powerful hooves. At the end of its arms were hands and very long claws.

Every bit as jagged as the horns on its head. In one of those claws was Mark's body being held by his shirt. I examined him only briefly, just long enough to notice that the shape of his head was not what it had once been. For a moment there was silence. I didn't scream. I couldn't believe what was in front of me. Then the creature's ears ruffled. It dropped Mark and started backing up.

Its deer head hung lazily to the side as it moved. My brain rang, suddenly. It's going to jump the gap. It's coming for me. With the logical side of my mind shut off, I turned around and ran. Hopefully in the exact opposite direction the way I came. Behind me I heard a powerful grunt, and then a scuffle of the monster landing on the bank.

There was a horrifying roar. Something that sounded like a grizzly bear and a buck, shouting together. I had never run so fast or so desperately in all of my life, but it was gaining on me, and as I ran through the forest, I started to feel its warm, hungry breath on my back. Its hands were extending, and I swear I could feel its claws scratched me. I ran and scurried up the bank leading to the path. I don't know how I got there without it grabbing me, but I did. Then I took off down the road, hoping I was going the right direction.

While running, I threw off my backpack and gained some speed. I think the bank delayed it, slightly. That's the only reason I can account as to how I got it. I had gotten in front of it. Somehow, I ran, and ran, and ran. I didn't stop. Eventually, I didn't hear it anymore. But I didn't care.

I kept running. I have never been a long-distance runner, but my adrenaline was not going to wear off anytime soon. I intended to take advantage of it. When I reached the end of the trail and saw the road again, I couldn't believe it. I got into my car. Just before I took off, I shot a glance back up the trail, at the point where it went up between the two mountains,

and was visible from the road. from the road, I would regret it. Standing there at the beginning of the trail was the Skinwalker, as I've come to call it. It had given up its chase but stood there, watching me hungrily, waiting to see if I would come back. Its deer head hung lazily dead to one side. The blood on its body was beginning to dry. It had run the whole trail and didn't look tired at all. I twisted the ignition and floored the car and never came back. They never found Mark, and I would never explain what happened. No one would believe me. me. I thought I needed to tell someone, which is why I'm posting it here. It came back to me

in my dreams, nightmares. That creature, the Skinwalker. Somehow, I doubt that forest was really sacred. In fact, I'm sure it was the opposite. Because the image that flashes through my mind most often is not the horrific creature. It isn't Mark's corpse. It's that circle, which must have been maintained over the years by those who knew, those who understood. That old circle, left alone for so long. I'm not being followed by anything other than my memories of that moment. That moment that felt like an eternity to me was clearly only a few seconds,

but they were the most haunting seconds of my life. For a bit of context, I'm a Canadian university student currently living in Central Quebec, not like Montreal or anything, but a very small town bordering a very small city in the middle of nowhere. The landscapes are sort of an emerald dream, with Titanic Mountains jutting out aggressively, all of which blanketed in a dense forest. I love my town, everything's within walking distance. Friends, the bar, the lake. It's all great and nearby.

So we often hit the town together. No need to drive anywhere or anything. Last night, we decided to have a little bonfire on this little ridge off the side of the lake, which doesn't really provide too much surface area for a bonfire. For this reason, the ten of us, were huddled around a dimly lit campfire instead. Guitar is being played, fine alcohol is being drank, and good times are being had by all. As the night draws on, I've charged myself with keeping the bulk of the fire going. Nobody else is too apt at any sort of camping, or otherwise outdoorsy activities in my group. Up to this point, all was very normal, other than my close friends acting a little off.

After our first few, he had ran out and left by himself to go get more. The ridge was out of side of the road due to the dense forest paths that we used to get to and from it. So he goes and cuts through it alone. When he gets back, he's acting like he had a hundred beers. Looked like he wasn't used to his lakes. Strangely enough, he had a full case of beer with him, so I assumed he hadn't drank anymore. He also wasn't gone for very long at all. Honestly, we drank together often, me and him.

I know what he's like drunk, and this was especially unusual. So he's trying to talk to the people, but he's. just can't say real words. It's as if he was trying to perform all of the accents of normal English speech but didn't actually understand the words or syntax. Kind of like one of those videos that are meant to show what English might sound like to non-English speakers. As I mentioned before, the fire wasn't providing much in terms of light. So when we'd head off to go grab some firewood, I'd usually jerry-rig my cell phone flashlight to my belt to keep the area in front of me well lit. We do this a few times and some of the others begin to lose motivation to collect wood,

So I take matters into my own hands for the last run of the evening. This brush was completely uncultivated, super thick, very dark. The only discernible paths that were about shoulder width were obstructed by an oddly fallen tree here and there. So I'm yanking at trees, trying to feel for anything dry. Even my phone light was falling behind waste-level foliage. I didn't really have too much lighting. Once I got a handful or so, I figured it'd be good enough for the last burn, so I get the idea

to head back. But just as I get this thought, my phone fall straight onto the ground. So of course, it had to land face down, blocking the flash, preventing me from finding the right way. Regardless, I didn't look forward immediately. For some reason, I decided to let the darkness sink in. I had never been in such a dark environment that I was unable to see my hand in front of my face. Even the brightest moonbeams couldn't breach the canopy above. However, as I focus on my surroundings, I quickly realized I was referencing my frame using a subtle glow. It was yellowish, but twisted into a green,

the more I concentrated. I was immediately very startled by its lack of movement, yet curious. I hesitantly paced inward, carelessly leaving my phone on the ground. The glow split distinctly into two yellow-green bulbs that were locked onto each other. They're my eyes. My vision is really bad, especially with lighting, so from a distance my eyes will merge the source of light together. For instance, I can't see stars. This caused my curiosity to go nuts. What kind of fat raccoon is trying to stalk me through these bushes. Something was hitting me, though. I was terrified.

I bore a fear so intense that my stomach began to churn. My curiosity has always outweighed my fears, and this situation was no different. I began to know what it was. It began to know me. There was this very strange bond in that moment that chilled me to the core. I felt a connection to this living thing, but its eyes were pumping fear into my body.

The worst mistake I'd ever make is to follow. Nervously, I yelled loud enough to attempt to startle whatever it may have been in this chilling stare-down against me at only about a seven- or eight-foot distance. Its absolutely motionless reaction, to my help, began to chip away at my sanity. Was I staring at two elaborately placed lights in the middle of the woods? No, it couldn't be. They had eyes, and this battle cry didn't even make him flinch. Because of that, part of me rationalized that it could not possibly be any end. animal. It's probably some kind of prank or a marker for some type of ecology job.

So I pressed towards it again, walking as if I knew for sure that this was all to be logically explained. As I closed the gap, my vision began to home in on these lights, plainly defined ovals, resplendent with the brightest darkness I'd ever felt. When they were legitimately just out of my range of clear vision, the lights, which were waist level before, rose up. They rose as eyes would on a bear standing onto its hind legs, instantly reducing me to a quivering mess. Odd thing is, bears don't have antlers. I haven't ever heard of a moose with piercing eyes that can stand on its hind legs either. As soon as it began straightening up, I was already getting out of there.

I just ran. Luckily, I managed to kick my phone out of the dirt and quickly picked it up. The flashlight was still going, making it really easy to spot once I kicked it. Rolling through the woods, illuminating phone now in my hand. I made it back to my campfire completely out of breath. Now, normally I'd spray the story all over my friends, but I knew they'd just think I'd went crazy or hit my head collecting wood. Also, considering I didn't have a bundle of sticks anymore,

my shortness of breath was probably a little unjustified. I sat down and noticed that my friend from before was still being very strange, but it seemed like with every passing minute he was adapting more to the conversation and was steadily attempting to contribute more and more. We're all good friends, which is why I find this unusual, considering the fact that he legitimately could not speak English one minute, and then within 15 he's practically back to normal. Still, something was off.

He was the last to leave the campfire, even after the other guys had pissed it out, and he just stayed there staring at the ashes. After most of us had gotten home, he calls me an entire minute of silence. The whole time I'm shouting at him to tell me where he's. he is, and that if he's too drunk to get home, I'll go and find him. Disturbingly, he just hangs up. After a cigarette and another half of beer, he calls me back again. This time he's trying to talk like before, but he can't pronounce any words again. He never did touch that case of

beer he brought, by the way, just sat next to him during the whole fire. So I tell him to stop being an idiot and to tell me where he is, he hangs up again, leaving me to figure that he's just drunk, emotional, and that maybe I was just being a little too harsh on him. Honestly, though, I was just so shaken up and I needed to confide to somebody about what I had just seen, but he was incapacitated and it frustrated me. After that, I went to bed and I figured he was just being strangely drunk. It was insanely weird to me, but I had a few drinks too and I wasn't really having any of his crap and I figured I'd try to get some sleep. When I wake up in the morning, I have a text from his roommate asking me why he saw him crawl from underneath his car in the

driveway this morning. We haven't seen him since, and his roommate said he thought he'd never made it home because he didn't come in. So, what's wrong with my friend? I'm hoping he comes back because if he doesn't, my buddy just got his skin and carjacked by a flesh gate or something. So now I'm scared. Sorry for the long post. I just needed to vent and tell the story properly as I remember it. Update. He came back home around 8.30 p.m. last night, looking a little shaken up, but otherwise normal. He seems fine for now. This happened last night, so for the past two days, I've been reading a lot about Skinwalkers. I have scourge the top posts of all time and read every single story from there,

and also the local news for Skinwalker's stories. I live in NWT. It's the province about Alberta, about 200,000 in population, beautiful in the summer. We're surrounded by the woods and lots of lakes. There's one particular trail people often drive to access said lakes. Anyway, last night I was driving on the trail with a guy friend to find a secluded spot. He recommended V Lake, which was the first lake you access on the trail system. The way it's set up, there's a long, narrow dirt road at the right of the highway that you have to drive for at least 20 minutes before you get to the lake itself. The dirt road is surrounded by trees and is riddled with little lakes here and there.

It's my favorite lake to drive to, mostly because I love the narrow dirt roads with lots of tall trees. So it's Sunday night and we're the only ones driving. We weren't tired drunk, we were just having fun, listening to music. Then as I was driving, about 10 minutes into the dirt road, an extremely strong smell of rotten flesh filled our noses. This weirded my friend out and made me panic. The first thing that came to my mind was Skinwalkers. It was vile and the smell just. hit us all of the sudden. The windows were closed and the AC was set to the lowest. The car

is clean and nothing there could have caused it. I asked him what he thought of the smell. He said barbecue. I told him there's a current fire ban and effect in the city. That can't be. He agreed and he said it smelled really rotten to him. The smell was strong. It was making me nauseous. I'm now more aware of the woods surrounding us, how it actually makes me feel kind of claustrophobic, How every turn and curve makes me more and more anxious. My gut was telling me something isn't right, and I kept thinking Skinwalkers and the stories I've read up for the past two days. I was getting more scared by the moment.

Then we drove through another curve, and my lights and high beams shone quickly on a person standing inside the mouth of the woods, and that's when I panicked. I asked my friend, do you still want to drive down this road? Yeah, I don't care, he replied. During this time, I seriously knew something wasn't,

right and my brain kept screaming at me to turn around. I kept glancing at my mirrors. Frank Ocean's voice wasn't calming me down. I was so scared. I think he saw my discomfort, so he piped up again. We can turn around if you want. I slammed on my brakes and did a four-point turn and high-tailed it out of there. Once we were back on the highway of the trail, I told him about what I thought of the smell, but not the person I saw in the woods. I didn't want to freak him out. We had a long conversation about it. I knew we shouldn't have, but he kept asking questions because he was curious, so I answered, but tried not to mention its name. Also, while we were there, we were parked at the picnic

ground of a lake, and Little Stone started hitting the driver's side of the truck. A couple would hit every minute or so. It unnerved the crap out of me, but I ignored it. There was no one else in the trail, because we didn't hear or see anyone driving. That was kind of weird too. One statement of his that kind of unnerved me was, I think it was trying to lure us further into the woods. So, on the way back, I had him drive so I could calm down. I was calmer on the drive back. There were some foxes with glowing eyes in the middle of the road that kind of freaked me out at first, but then I realized they're just foxes.

Also saw roadkill by the immediate side of the road that wasn't there before, which was pretty weird. It was about the size of a beaver, but really nothing to panic about, I think. So yeah, this all happened from 1 to 3 a.m. last night. I now really believe in Skinwalkers. Just wasn't expecting on encountering one. My uncle, aunt, and all my cousins live in Utah, like two states over from me, California.

They drive around a lot, especially for family reunions. My uncle often tells all the kids and everyone else, a story when we go camping, mostly since someone usually wants to hear it again. He was driving back home alone one night in the summer. He knew the area well and he wasn't worried, but he was still kind of creeped out from, well, driving alone at night. He was in a long road of that sort of sparse, deserty area with the hills and bushes.

My uncle then heard a weird noise, like a chirp or something. The way he described it was the first part of the he-he-he that Michael Jackson makes without the second he. It sounds very ridiculous, I know, but unsettling in the cold day. dark outdoors, and it seemed clear enough to not have just been creaking metal, or something like that. Obviously, he got a little weirded out by it. He's a lively, tough dude with the company of others, but he hates being alone. My uncle heard it from somewhat far away, but then he started hearing it again, and it was almost ramping up, getting faster. It was also getting slightly louder. He sped up, but it still continued to get closer. He looked to the left outside his window and

saw something running almost parallel to his truck, pretty far off the road but inside the bush area, upright, like a tall, skinny human. He said it was brown and furry, and it just bothered him. It wasn't horror movie monster scary, but it was something's wrong scary. He heard the moving of leaves. The noise was now basically constant. It sounded different, like a person sounds when they're tired and speak every syllable in one breath of air. The animal thing sort of faded into the plants. The thing was though, he didn't feel any less scared, since now he feared it was in front of him, and that he would see it clearly on the road, but nothing happened for the rest of the ride. He usually clears out the night with his story.

Camping stories are fun, but they're sort of harmless. This one gets everyone creeped out and thinking, something that wouldn't have gone away if he told the story earlier. For a little background on my story, I live in a small town outside of Kansas City, Kansas. But the area I live in has lots of history around it, and there was a lot of Native American activity in the area. My house has a long driveway and is in the middle of a stand of woods. The woods have been there as long as there's records of the area.

When we first moved into our home, everything seemed pretty normal, but after living there a month, that's when abnormal stuff started to happen. Pounding on the roof, animal scratches on our vehicles, and we started finding a lot of dead animals on the property. We even contacted Kansas State Game Wardens, but couldn't find any evidence of poaching or poisoning, or even the animals getting hit by cars. So after about two years of this, my older brother moves back in and brings his dog with him. One night at about 11 p.m., the dog starts whining to be let out. So I put him on the leash and let him walk around the yard. Suddenly, he starts trying to yank me back towards the house. This uneasy feeling washes over me and I notice something

that smells like rotting catfish guts. I feel like someone was watching me so I turn around, and down by our garage, just inside the light, I see this figure. It was about five feet tall, hunched over, and it was very pale. It had small, deep, beady eyes and had a deer-like face. A sense of pure terror washed over me. I've never been more scared of anything in my life, and to this day, I've never felt that level of fear. I ran back into the house to wake up my dad and brother, they grab some shotguns and run outside to check it out. All they find are some pretty deep scratch marks on the garage. We contacted the game wardens the next day. I described what I saw and smelt and they said it was probably a very sick deer that had contracted some sort of illness

or something of that sort. Weird stuff kept happening for another two or three years. Then we had a really bad drought and stuff stopped occurring, so I don't know what the hell I saw that night. I was wondering if anyone had seen or smelled anything similar to that. When I was 12 years old, my 15-year-old brother and I experienced a very horrific event while at our grandparents' cabin. My grandparents own a cabin on a rather large island in southern Sweden, which contains only two cabins, separated by slightly less than a mile. One summer, my brother and I, along with my mother and sister, went to visit them for a weekend. The thing we did most during our days there was go fishing. On the first day of our stay, we were planning to fish.

We set everything up, all we had to do now was go dig for worms, which we used for bait. Grabbing a shovel along with a bucket, we went back up to the cabin, and down a short slope and through a trail where we usually find plenty of worms. The forest is very dense and barely any light shines through, which makes the whole setting a bit unnerving for me, as I have always been easily frightened. I hear something walking and I look at my brother with a very scared face.

He brushes it off as if there was nothing to be afraid of and insists that we go check it out. We walk a bit further down the trail, which I know leads to an open meadow as I have been there looking for mushrooms with my mom at a previous occasion. Before we get to the open, my brother holds up his hands as to indicate for me to stop.

I looked over his shoulder and see behind the trees what appears to be a moose looking directly at us. I got relieved as I knew they were friendly and as I had seen plenty of moose nearby. My brother, however, who has never been scared of anything, looks back at me with the biggest eyes I've ever seen, and the most pale I've ever seen someone, as he tells me we should get out of here.

Without questioning him, I start to walk back while he keeps pushing me as to make me move quicker, and as we reach the cabin we are pretty much running. My mom and grandma were sitting at the porch as we got into the front, and I tell them that we saw Moose. My brother, on the other hand, remains completely silent, safe to say that there was no fishing that day. The following day, we didn't even bring up fishing. I'm sitting on the porch reading a magazine, and my brother is sitting inside on the couch doing the same, although he still has the scared look in his eyes.

I spend the following hour or two reading several magazines until my grandpa asks me where the shovel is. I realized that we left it where we were looking for worms the previous day, and I tell him where it is. Just as he was about to go and get it, my mother tells me that my brother and I have to go get it. Since we left it there, she also tells me that we should go dig up some worms, as she wants to go fishing later with us. I don't question it, but my brother seems unnerved by it. This made everything all the more unsettling for me, as my brother is not easily scared at all, pretty much the opposite of me. We put on our shoes and head to the back of the cabin

and walk down the trail heading to where the shovel and bucket is. Once we are about 10 feet from where the shovel is, my brother stops and tells me I should go and dig, as he did it the last time. I do as he says and I start digging for worms. I have this very strong feeling that he stayed back because he was scared something would happen. I start hearing the bushes around me sway,

and I hear sneaky footsteps moving closer and closer, Everything is all the more creepy as I have no idea where the footsteps are coming from. One second, I'm sure they're coming from my right. The next it feels like they're coming from a completely opposite direction. I quickly put a few worms that I found in the bucket, and as I fumble to pick up the shovel, I feel as I'm being watched. My brother walks up to me and helps me seal the bucket, and I tell him it feels like someone is watching, to which he responds that we should leave.

Just as we turn around and are ready to head back, I hear a crack from behind. me and turn around. I looked down the trail and see the moose once again, peeking at me from behind a tree. It looked very different from what they usually look like, as it felt much slimmer and sort of twisted. At the time I'm more confused and curious than I am scared, and my brother is dead silent. I can't quite see the whole body of it, but I know that something is wrong. I stand for a couple more seconds watching it as it is staring right at us. From what I can see,

I realize that it's not standing on its four legs. It is leaned forward, as an old man with really bad posture, with its arms hanging straight down. I also had a weird sensation that the creature was trying to talk to me, saying, Let me help you.

In a few seconds, I get struck with panic and start walking really fast back to the cabin, my brother doing the same. It only takes a second before we were both in a full sprint running back to the cabin. I turn around and the moose-like creature is nowhere to be seen. We put the shovel by the shed where we took it and bring the bucket of worms to the front where my mom and grandparents are. The day goes on as if nothing had happened, and we don't speak of

it at all. Since this happened, I never thought I'd bring it up with my brother. We both just sort of knew that it would feel wrong to speak about it, and none of us had visited my grandparents' cabin since. To this day, I'm not sure at all what I saw. I mentioned it. I mentioned it to my friend once and he told me if what I said was true, then it was probably a Wendigo or a Skinwalker. He showed me some pictures from Google, and I instantly found resemblances of the creature that I saw back then. Until recently, I had completely repressed this event, but after reading several stories about Wendigo and Skinwalkers, my mind has once again become haunted by this event, and in a terrible way I realized that what I most likely saw was something

far more horrific than a moose. Out of all the things I've read about Wendigo, the most terrifying thing is that people say never to talk to it. I'm just imagining in my head what could have happened if I tried talking back to the creature when I felt it was speaking to me. Part 2. All right, so some people ask me to share more

regarding the events that happened when I was visiting my grandparents' cabin. I have not been there since. But my grandmother and her new husband stay there every summer. Note that this is about six years ago since the moose incident. Through the magic of Facebook, I contacted my grandma. We don't know each other all too well anymore, so I don't really feel comfortable calling her. I told her about the moose-like creature

and how my brother and I both saw it. She proceeded by typing for nearly 15 minutes, and I waited patiently. Her reply was a full story of her own encounter with what she said she had hoped to be just a dysfunctional moose. Her writing was in Swedish, so I will do my best to translate it. About 20 years ago, I was staying in the cabin by myself. Your grandpa was working at the time, so I was alone for the whole week.

One night while I was sleeping, I woke up with an uneasy feeling. I wasn't sure why, but I just knew something was wrong. I felt as if I was being watched. My first thought was to fall back asleep, and so I did. I woke up and what I believe was about an hour. hour, and this time I was sure something wasn't as it should be. I felt the same feeling of being watched, and I could clearly hear something moving outside. I grabbed my bedside candle and light it. As I get out of bed, I choose to not pull the curtains as I have a terrifying feeling that someone

will be staring right at me. By now I am convinced that something is trying to rob me. I was sleeping in the room at the back of the cabin, and so I walked up to the front and looked out by the porch, but see nothing. There are no neighbors nearby, and I can't call the police as I don't have a phone. I decide to go back to bed and try to sleep the fear away. I lay there for at least an hour without falling asleep. And although the sound is gone,

the unpleasant feeling has stuck around. At the backside of the cabin, right outside my window, was an older cabin, which was used before this one was built. The place was creepy, and we eventually decided to burn it down some years later. Anyways, I hear something bumping around side of it, and I realize that I'm going to have to look out the window.

I get out of bed, light the candle again, and pull the curtains. The uneasy feeling is still there, and I have the strongest feeling that something is going to stare right back at me. I pull the curtains, and for a complete second, I am caught in complete terror. I see something staring right back at me, but it's no robber. It's not a person. It's a moose. I expected to be relieved to find that it was nothing but a harmless animal, but that is far from what I was.

After a few seconds, I calmed down, and the panic faded a bit. The thing was still staring at me, but it was sure not a normal moose. I took a few seconds to investigate it. For a first, it was not standing on four legs. It was bent forward, as if in the upper front legs were just barely floating above the ground. It was also much slimmer than moose usually on. are, and it had this sort of disturbing twist in the body. The antlers looked flat out terrifying. Naturally, it doesn't say anything, but I had this strong feeling that it wanted me to come out.

It wanted me to let it help me. Although I felt that's what it wanted me to hear, I just knew the thing had bad intentions. I faint within a few seconds, and I wake up in the morning and let out a scream of panic. The creature is gone, and I am contemplating whether or not I was dreaming. To this day, I was unsure if this actually happened, or if I was just dreaming. Now that I know you saw the same thing, I know it was real. My grandma suggested that I tell my brother that I spoke to her about it, and I am seriously considering doing so. I mean, this for sure confirms that what we saw was not a normal moose.

I had some thoughts thinking it might have just been a handicapped or dysfunctional moose. But by the way, my grandma said it tried to communicate with her, and convince her, I knew it was the same thing that my brother and I encountered, as it too tried to talk to us. Apparently, she had already told this story to my mom and grandpa, but they just brushed it off and said it was either an injured moose or she was dreaming. Hearing about this story just made me all the more scared, but at the same time curious about what the creature actually was, and what was its purpose? Was he trying to lure us into the forest? Was he actually trying to help us with something. Hopefully I get some more clarification the more I talk to people about it.

I ended up sending some pictures of Windigo and Skinwalkers to her, and she definitely saw resemblances between them. That all sent shivers down my spine. To all of the people reading this, if you ever encounter a weird-looking creature with antlers, do not speak with it, or even acknowledge their presence. That's what they want. So this is a story about an experience I had late last year. I was in Dorset, UK, the night before Christmas Eve. Opinions are welcome as I can't really explain it, and everyone I tell the story to thinks I'm just crazy, or I'm making it up. What makes me think this may not be a skinwalker is that I've always heard that they won't enter a person's home unless you specifically invite them in, unless it took the open window

as an invitation. In addition, I have nothing which to explain the orb and flashes, unless I'm really losing my mind. Either way, I don't claim to have any literary ability. I also didn't know anything about Skinwalkers until I tried to figure out what this thing was. I'll just tell it like I experienced it. I was staying with my parents for a while in my old bedroom. We had picked up the house cheaply just three years prior when its former elderly owner suddenly passed away in one of the bedrooms. A friend and I had been hanging out for a week or so, enjoying the holiday, playing video games, going for short walks with my sister's dog on the nearby beach surrounding the fields. On the 22nd of December, this friend left to go spend Christmas with his own family,

and not knowing what to do with my newfound bedroom for the evening, I decided to go to sleep early, around 9 p.m. for a change. My bedroom is on the second floor, and my window was left open a few inches to let in a cool breeze. My sleep was restless. I kept waking and re-entering sleep every half hour until around midnight, when I finally drift off for good, or so I thought. Now, I don't often have dreams, and if I do, I don't remember much of them,

but the dream that I had this night was stranger than the others, and it is relevant to the rest of the story. I was seeing through the eyes of another person as they emerged from a bush in one of my neighbor's gardens. They were steadily and silently approaching my own garden, climbing over a six-foot wooden fence as easily as you or I climb a set of stairs. I couldn't see any hands or feet. It was if it was a steady cam, just gliding over the ground. My sister's dog was asleep on the tiny patch of grass near the tree, and I came to a stop directly beneath my open window.

The viewpoint then switched to resting on a branch near the top of the tree in my garden, watching the back of a pale, white humanoid figure, silently glide up the side of my house and looking at me through my open window. This is where I woke up, covered in a cold sweat, and decided that I should just lay there for a while with my eyes closed. All I could hear was the wind in the trees outside, as I thought about the dream, hoping to remember some more of it. Without warning, the silence was broken by my sister's dog barking like crazy.

About ten seconds later, it turned to yelping before fading into silence once more. Thinking it was squirrels or something else spooking the dog, I plan to go back to sleep, but then I start to hear slow scratching sounds on the wooden panelling on the outside of the house. It only covers the second floor, so I reasoned that it couldn't have been my sister's dog. So I sat up intending to take a look outside, pausing momentarily to glance sideways at the radio clock illuminating the room with its yellow orange glow, and of course it's 3.33am, exactly. This is when the unexplainable intense fear washes over me, stronger than I have ever felt

before or since. It definitely felt like something was in the room with me, like I was somehow intruding, or being watched. I thought I could hear a low, murmuring, coming from all around me. I saw something move across the ceiling and come to rest behind the room's main light shade. I closed my eyes and lay down again for reasons I can't explain even now, as if I was being willed by an outside force. Then, with my eyes still closed, a floating white orb appeared roughly where I had seen the shadow on the ceiling, accompanied by the sound of a thousand lighters being sparked at once. It was almost deafening.

There was a bright white flash that filled the room with light that I could clearly see with my eyes still closed. As the flash subsided, I was left in total darkness again. I immediately sat upright wondering what just happened. Slowly, I reached for the bedside light with my right arm, and it wouldn't turn on. Memories of unplugging it so my friend could recharge his laptop at some point earlier in the week came flooding back to me.

It was only then when I was made fully aware of the dark, humanoid figure now standing completely motionless in the center of my room beneath the main light. As an unnaturally snapped its head to the left to watch my arm reaching for the light, it slowly turned its head back onto me, and I couldn't make out any facial features. It was if its skin absorbed all light like a black hole. I stayed there for a good two minutes, just paralyzed in fear, not really comprehending what it was I was looking at. Then it abruptly, in a very jerking, unnatural movements, took a sense of a single moment, single step towards me and extended its open hand, ending in long, almost talon-like fingers.

As it came even closer, I felt fear increased proportionally to its distance from me. It was almost touching my face when fighter flight mode engaged, without even thinking, I jumped out of bed and slammed on the wall to turn on the main light switch. My head flicked back to cast a fresh eye on the thing, where inside of a fraction of a second, it crossed the room and threw itself out the open window, clearing the garden in a single jump before disappearing into the night. at an impossible speed. I went downstairs to check on the rest of the house

and to make sure my parents were okay. Into the garden, I found my sister's dog whining softly and attempting to hide behind the tree shaking. I can't stop thinking back to that experience and wondering what would have happened if I stayed put or even taken its hand. I've always been a bit of a skeptic

ever since I was a kid. Scary stories don't phase me. Creepy games never frightened me. and whenever I hear something weird at night, I instantly assume it's something normal, an animal, or just the house settling. Despite this, something very unsettling happened to me the other day, and I'm not really sure what to make of it. I think it's the first time in years. I've been genuinely frightened. I live in a forest area in the U.S. Me and my girlfriend live in a large cabin, and although there are no roads nearby, our nearest neighbors are at least a mile away. We also have two cats, one of which sleeps in the bedroom with us, while the other often goes out at night and does whatever cats do when they're out of sight.

Anyway, I like to stay up late at night and sleep late into the morning, whereas my girlfriend's an early bird. It was one in the morning and I was watching a crappy TV in the living room while my girlfriend slept in the bedroom. I was beginning to grow tired when I heard something outside near the cat door. For clarity, our cat door uses an electronic chip so only our cats can use it. I assumed it was just one of the cats coming in or leaving the house, and I just ignored it. Then I heard it again. It sounded like something thudding against the cat door. It happened several times at random intervals, until I lost my patience and decided to go open the door.

Clearly, the cat was having trouble getting in. I never thought about it at the time, but it was weird because we feed our cats well, and they're very lean rather than chubby. I passed the bedroom and peered in as I walked past to see if my girlfriend heard the noises. She was fast asleep, but the cat that sleeps with us was staring at the window. I call her name.

Nothing. She keeps staring. I shrugged it off and kept heading towards the kitchen. The back doors are through there, by the way. Anyway, so I reached the back door and saw a dark shape through the translucent door. I sighed, expecting the cat to be out. out there and opened the door.

It took me a moment to open the door and I saw the cat tense up as I opened it. The door opened fully. I froze. It wasn't my cat. Whatever it was had started moving before I opened it up. I only caught a glimpse of a distorted figure, kind of like a tailless dog, bolting, and I mean absolutely pelting it. I freaked out and slammed the door shut.

What the hell was it? I wasn't sure. My natural skepticism kicked in, and I assumed it was just my other cat, and I had merely startled it. Perhaps the darkness made it appear larger. Nevertheless, I was creeped out, and I decided to go to sleep. As I slipped into bed, I realized something horrifying. The second cat was asleep on the rug.

It took a while to get to sleep that night. Everything seemed normal until a few hours later, I awoke to a strange feeling of dread. Something wasn't right. My girlfriend was fast asleep. I held my breath and heard something creaking by the door. It sounded too loud to be one of the cats. It was as if a person was walking about. I reached toward my bedside cabinet and flicked on the lamp.

The room was illuminated and I saw something just standing outside the door, staring at me. The same twisted figure I had spotted earlier outside. It wasn't very tall, maybe a little over five feet, but it was its face that scared me the most. I only caught a glimpse of it, but what I saw was stay with me forever. It looked like a dog, but with an elongated face, an almost human-like eyes. You know that weird, distorted snarl, dogs pull when they're pissed off?

It had that expression. I instantly started yelling profanities as I scrabbled backwards, trying to straighten up. The creature turned and sprinted down the hall. I heard it dashed outside and go past the window behind us, just above the headboard. I managed to look out as my girlfriend started to look out as my girlfriend started to panic as she woke up fully. We both caught a glimpse of whatever the hell that thing was as it dashed off into the woods near our home. Grabbing my trusty shotgun from underneath the bed, as well as a couple rounds from the ammunition box that sits next to it. I ran out of the room

in my underwear and rounded into the kitchen. The door was open. I'd forgotten to lock it when I saw the thing originally. I haven't seen it since, but we still live in our cabin. But I've bought sturdy locks for all the main doors and windows in the house, and always check the exit points at night. I also go to bed a bit earlier than I used to, so I'm asleep when the freaks of the night start to wake up. I've read a bunch of forms, and the only thing that I can compare it to, based on what I saw, is a skinwalker. If you know anything about these things, please let me know. As I am writing you this, other skinwalkers are in front of my house. They are surrounding me, If I die, I want you to know what happened.

I stand alone, nobody to help me. I hear them howling. By my estimation, there are at least five of them. But let's tell the story from the beginning, shall we? My childhood was nice. It was going smooth and buttery until my eighth birthday. After a long day and a party with my friends, summer heat slowly disappeared as the night came on.

I was out in the backyard playing with my Spider-Man figure. I was feeling safe and happy, until my dog shot across the yard and ran off into the forest. I should probably describe the dog. He was a big Siberian husky, white. His name was Johnny. Anyways, back to the story. The dog shocked me. Then in a second, I went from feeling safe to feeling like I could die at any moment.

Right then, fog rolled into my backyard. I could see the outline of a figure standing in it. Then, a wolf howled. It sounded like a wolf at first, but it sounded wrong. I screamed for my dad who came out running. I told him about Johnny and the wolf howling. He then said, Son, there's no wolves in this country.

He ushered me inside and grabbed his shotgun and went searching for Johnny. He came back empty-handed, but I knew something happened, that he saw something. I could see it in his eyes. That night he stayed awake on the couch, gripping his shotgun until the sun came up. From that point on, every night the fog would roll in in our backyard and the figure would start howling. As I grew older, I could not be convinced by my father it was just a wolf.

So, on one winter evening, he sat me down in the couch by the fireplace and told me a story. Son, long before men ruled the earth, other creatures lived on it. So, naturally, when we came, they felt angry. They wanted to get rid of us. That thing you see every night howling is one of them. They are called skin walkers. They are sort of shape-shifters. They can take the shape of a human or animal.

Also, they take their memories, their voice, their life. But you can always recognize the skin walker from the real deal. When they speak, there is something wrong in their voice. A certain amount of something sinister. My son, I have dealt with skinwalkers all my life. Looks like you'll have to do that too. He then gave me an unmarked red leatherbound book and told me to read it in its entirety.

And so I began. In it was everything about skinwalkers. How do they live? And what they do? What do they feed on and how to hunt them? My father then moved away to the city when I was 20. He knew then I could guard the front line. Fast forward a few days ago,

I was in the backyard of the same house. Me, now a fully grown male, 25 years old, I was guarding, and an idea came to my mind, I'm going to catch that skinwalker. So I prepared my traps, some signs, and put my lucky necklace on my neck. I poured holy water everywhere, in the sprinklers too, put salt in my shotgun gauges, also in my sniper rifle rounds. Night came, and by my expectations, at around 10 p.m. the fog came in. What was driving me to hunt this skinwalker was this. I can't have a family with this thing around us.

Why you may ask, because this skinwalker didn't do anything to me. Wrong. He got my dog. My dad found it in the creek a few days later after he was hunting. He took a good friend of mine. I didn't want my kids to live a life like me, to be scared constantly, to not have a teenage life just because this thing came every night and attacked my house.

So when the fog came, I got ready on my roof and waited. After only ten minutes of waiting, it was here. He started doing as usual, howling and throwing stuff at my house, mostly animal carcasses. And then, out of nowhere, I turned the sprinklers on. It screamed so hard it was shaking my house. Then I shot at it with my silver bullet with some salt. It came down, but I knew it wasn't dead. It was just unconscious.

I then came down from the roof. I didn't turn off the sprinklers. I picked the thing up. It must have weighed around 300 pounds, but I was a huge dude, 6 foot 8. I have trained for this my entire life. I was ready.

I took it into my basement and strapped it into a chair, placed in a cage that had electricity running through its bars. I then waited for it to wake up. When it did, it started howling immediately. It changed from its wolf shape to one of my dead friends just to hurt me. I left it there to rot.

But then, it started howling again. It called another. This brings me to this moment. It's still howling. They are surrounding me. I have ammo and food in my bunker. My house was built like a fortress. But the chance of survival is small.

I will try to stop them, to save you. So if I die here, take my example. Be prepared for everything. Last night, I had an experience with what I believe to be a skinwalker. I was sleeping on my couch. I'm in the process of remodeling my bedroom. It had been storming on and off all night,

but in that moment, the wind was only blowing. It was about one in the morning when I was woken up by a very strange noise. I can't describe it that well, but it sounded like an animal call, except as if a human was making the sound. It was a long, deep noise that kept on going, almost like a foghorn.

It sounded like it was right outside my window in my backyard. In case you're wondering, I live in a country near the Ozark Mountains and directly on the trail of tears. I've lived out there in the middle of the woods my whole life. I've heard and seen everything, bears, deer, cougars, raccoons, coyotes. But the sound that I heard that night

wasn't like anything that I've ever heard. I'm not going to lie. It scared the absolute hell out of me. I immediately went to my bedroom. I have a window that looks into my backyard as well. I wanted to see whatever it was, but I didn't want to pull back my living room curtains to come face to face with it. I couldn't see anything through my bedroom window,

so I turned around and started walking back to the living room. Then something hit my window. It wasn't strong enough to break it. It just sounded like someone hit the palm of their hand on the glass. At that point, I went back to sleep and ignored the sound. Looking back on it, I should have recorded it, and I tried when the noise came back the next night. But every time I took out my phone, it stopped. Today, I built up enough courage to go into my backyard and to investigate.

There were loose limbs everywhere. I had a bonfire a few weeks ago. The remaining ashes had been dug through. Not blown by the wind or damaged by the rain. No, it looked like a lot of the wind. something took their hands and dug a hole. I did some research and I think it's a skin walker. I'm no stranger to these things. I've heard lots of stories about them and considering that I've seen several things walking through the woods through my lifetime, I'm starting to become

really convinced. So this happened to me last September and I'm writing about it now, only because I've read so many experiences people have had that I'm at a point where I'm more comfortable talking about what happened. My best friends live out by a country farmland in Michigan. The land is very old and probably traces back to the Native Americans. There is even a nearby road called Indian Trail. Well, it was around 1.30 a.m. and I was leaving their house. And to paint a visual of what their yard looks like, the driveway is in the shape of a U. And they have many cars parked except for this one part near the front of the house where there is a giant, evergreen tree nobody ever parks in front of and a light that hangs over to illuminate this area.

Where my car was parked is the furthest to the left and I have to walk across the entire yard and pass the tree in order to get to my car. Well, as I left that night, I reached about the center of the yard and suddenly felt my heart rate was skyrocketing. This happened out of nowhere, and I started running to get to my car as fast as I could. As I got into my car, my front windows were foggy, and as I started the car, there was a small patch clearing up at the bottom of the windshield where I could see clearly, and that's when I saw the thing squatting by the evergreen tree and watching me. I have never had that feeling as though my body was burning at 300 degrees, and my heart was

in my throat throbbing. I looked through that small patch of my window, which was now growing larger, and the thing wasn't moving. It was still frozen in place and squatting. It was not human. and it was not animal either. My body went numb. All of this happened in a matter of 30 seconds,

and I backed out of the driveway and drove down the dirt road to get home, probably driving 70 miles an hour. I immediately repressed what happened to that point, and I don't even remember how I got home. The next day comes around, and I go over to their house again, and I was sitting in my friend's room, and I told her that I saw something in her yard last night. And she freaked out at me because she said it could have been a robber

or a dangerous person, and I told her no, it wasn't a person. I described it as the cacky man, because it looked like those saggy khaki tan pants, but only the entire body was that texture. The head was bald, with ears folded into the scalp, and pitch black, beady eyes, like round buttons. Well, her husband overheard me talking about this, and he entered the room halfway into the story and waited for me to finish, and told me that him, his dad and brother, have all seen it at once, and they called it Ghalem, like the creature from the Lord of the Rings.

I didn't know what it was, and they showed me a figurine of it, and it had similar resemblance to it. None of them ever seen it more than once. I told them that I didn't want to know anything more about it, and I tried to erase that this ever happened because it literally flipped my entire perception of this world around. Anything is possible. And while I've had paranormal experiences growing up as a child, I wasn't too scared about things like that. But to come across a creature that is not something my brain could have ever comprehended at this point, I believe that all kinds of things are out there.

But all this time has passed since and I'm still traumatized from it. I don't want to live in fear and I still visit my friends frequently. But ever since then, they always walk me out if I'm leaving late. at night. After a couple months passed, I decided that I wanted to know what it was that I saw. And after, diving deep into online forums of people's paranormal experiences, I came across a story mentioning the term Skinwalker, which I never heard before, so I decided to look it up, and that's what sparked my interest on researching more. I have read tons of stories online about encounters others have had with Skinwalkers, which led me to research more about Navajo Native American

folklore and the one who walks on all fours. A part of me thinks that it could have certainly been that, but another part of me is not so sure, because this thing almost looked alien, and not so much like a coyote, although we often hear coyotes in this area late at night. I described what this looked like to my friend who lives at the house, and she illustrated a spot-on picture of it. That I'll attach here. I would love to hear from any of you with possible insight related to to the subject of Skinwalkers, as well as if you've seen anything like this. I have had some nightmares from it, and have thought about possibly talking to a Native American shaman who owns a shop nearby. But I'm not sure how I could approach a topic like that

because it's a topic they don't like to speak about, which is why I wanted to share it here first.