Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary Skinwalker Story In The Middle Of Nowhere |(Scary Stories)

Episode Date: April 6, 2021

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You said this place was steps from the water. We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost. Or you could book a stay with Hilton. Welcome to your ocean front room. Just steps from the water.

The Hilton sale is on now. Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton for the stay. This is my first time really talking about this, so please excuse any weird phrasing. I've also changed my name and my associate's names for privacy, as I'm sure they wouldn't want to be connected to something like this.

I used to work in a coffee shop. It was a rundown place nestled on the line between Florida and Alabama. It's situated right beside a highway and blocked off by Linky Pines. The owners. I won't say their names due to privacy reasons, built it after they got married 15 years ago, but grew too old to take care of it. They ended up giving it to their snobby millennial son-in-law, who flunked out of business school four years ago.

He took all of the walls down and got rid of the stained-brown carpet and yellow walls, made all four walls completely glass and the floors white. It looks good, better than it used to be, but completely wasted when you remember that it's a crappy coffee place with three employees in the middle of nowhere across from an Exxon gas station. The manager, the snobby son-in-law, will call him Robert, rarely came around after he realized how slow business really was. It was kind of sad, actually. He poured all this effort into it, only to turn out 25 or so customers a day. Now, Robert only comes in to deliver my check

or a dozen pastries to the sheriff's office a few miles down the way. If it sounds bad, it's because it is. I work with two other people, but they can't afford to put us all on one shift like they did before. So now I work the night shift, coming in around 3 p.m. and leaving it around 9 p.m. or so. We close for an hour in between each shift, so we can brew more coffee and bake pastries.

my co-worker Molly would almost always come in late for a graveyard shift at basically 11 p.m. But it didn't matter. Robert couldn't care less as long as he didn't have to be there. Molly was really sweet. So today, I got in around 3.15 and entertained a few guests who came in for black coffee before a football game. That brought in a bit of a rush, since football was the only notable thing this crummy town does on weekdays. I had a few families come in for hot chocolate and warm vanilla lattes. Those were fun to make, since I have all of the time in the world to practice my little art. I made a tiny lily pad and flour on a little girl's hot chocolate. She didn't seem impressed, and I wish I drew a middle finger instead.

The rush ended at 7.30 with an older gentleman with tan skin, who ordered hot water in a to-go cup. Just the water? I always ask, just in case I don't have to-go-go-cup. to reopen the tab. Too many indecisive people who changed their mind with their card in the slot already. He looked at me for a moment and nodded. Yeah, that's it for me. Do you need anything? I stopped for a second and met his eyes. They were dark and round, big dark bags under his eyelashes. He had wrinkles around his eyes and brows, heavy beard under his lips. I felt my face grow hot. No, sir, I'm good. Thank you, though. I tried to avert my eyes to his check, which I then realized was free,

since he only ordered water. You're all set. Stay warm out there. I smiled politely and turned back towards my barista bar, cleaning off my stir spoon with a rag. After a few seconds of silence, I turned and he was still standing, watching me clean. Is there anything else I can get you? My stomach was turning. I hate this. Being in the middle of nowhere by myself, no one around if someone like this strolled in. I glanced up at the Exxon across the road. The lights were beginning to switch off with the sunset. The clerk must be closing up.

I had a can of waspere under the register, and I eyed it quickly. He shimmied from shoe to shoe, big eyes looking into my soul. What time do you get off tonight? He talked like he knew me personally, like we were supposed to catch a movie afterwards. I flinched, not wanting to tell him the truth. I work a double tonight, so I get off at 2 a.m., late hours. I nodded respectfully and tried to leave the situation by heading towards the back. Why'd you guys put all this glass in here?

He called me after I entered the back kitchen. I pulled my phone out and set it to call 911, if need be. I set my phone on the counter and faced him, finger hovering over the green call button. you could never be too safe. More natural light. Thought it would bring more people in, I said. He smiled a bit back at me, looking around the empty restaurant.

Did it? I laughed humorlessly and shook my head. He finally nodded and started toward the glass door in the front. He took a glance up and down the door and then slid outside with a wave. I breathed out the air that I had been holding in for his stay. I cleared the numbers off my phone, and brought it over with me to the coffee bar.

Robert said when I was hired, they have a zero-tolerance policy on phone usage while on the clock. But Robert plays bitlife in the corner when it's slow, so I stopped caring real fast. I scrolled through Facebook aimlessly and ended up watching a few videos on YouTube. The time ticked on with no one passing through. I thought I saw a car passing by,

but it was the Exxon employee going home. I waved widely good night. knowing he would see me through the glass. He offered a half-wave back and turned down the road into darkness. Something stirred behind him in the trees. My eyes darted up the pine tree behind his car, and I noticed it swaying slightly. Then it stopped. I felt a cold chill race up my back.

When I say we're in the middle of nowhere, it's not an exaggeration. The gas station and I were directly across from each other on the county road. on all sides of us were thick woods until about 10 miles when you finally hit a dollar general, then another 15 or so to the only school in the county. I live about 40 minutes away, so the drive isn't too bad out here. It's just so isolating, especially when the gas station guy leaves. If there were bears around here, they would probably be here, for sure. The only light in the woods from miles would draw them in, with the promise of food,

There had been a few animal problems in the past few weeks. The sheriff's office would come in after their shift, talking about farmers having their chickens killed in the night. There wasn't much they could do, but show up to the farmer's houses after the fact with guns drawn. They hadn't caught anything yet, but the townspeople talk all the time about huge footprints in their soil. I hate the thought of a bear finding me out here. Wasp spray probably wouldn't do too well against one of those beasts. beasts. I tried to push the thought out of my mind. I drew on a napkin and listened to Frank Ocean for another hour. Finally, 9 p.m. rolled around. I stood up and started cleaning off the

counters and tables, cranking up the music louder. It was finally time to close everything down. I was jamming out, scraping crumbs off the pillows of the lounge seating when my phone dinged. I slid over the coffee bar, already knowing it would be Molly, explaining why she was running late this time. Probably her mom forgot to take out the garbage or her boyfriend needed a ride to Walmart. I flipped my phone over and my stomach dropped. The text was from Molly and stated, Hey girl, I hate to do this, but my brother is sick and gave me the stomach bug so I can't come in tonight. Can you cover my shift? I'll bring you food next shift. Dang it. I slammed my phone down and closed my eyes. Cover her shift. An hour or

before I'm supposed to get off? That means I really won't get off until 3 a.m. I called Robert, who didn't answer for the first five rings. The conversation went as follows. Robert, this is Rob. Me. Hey, uh, Molly called out last minute and wants me to cover her shift. Robert. Okay. Me. So can you come in so that I can go home? Robert. Can't tonight. Have you tried Scott? me heavy size yes I've called Scott and he's only available for mornings Robert well hey extra hours right good luck I fought every urge not to scream into the phone as he disconnected I decided to sit down and reevaluate every decision that led me here yes I do need more hours hospital bills won't pay themselves but I wish I didn't live here

I spent the next few hours grinding more coffee beans and fantasizing about having a cute apartment in a busy city somewhere. This and two vanilla chai lattes accompanied my time for the next few hours. It was finally midnight and I decided Robert wouldn't know if I closed early. And even if he did, I didn't care. Good luck, jerk. I began switching the lights off and packing away the stale pastries in the glass cabinet below the coffee bar. Finally, I headed toward the glass doors. The locks were these long metal bars that go into a hole in the wood floors, meaning the lock

mechanism was all the way at the bottom of the glass. I slid the glass door completely shut and kneeled down. This one was such a pain, but it's the only way to keep the glass doors locked without looking trashy, Robert says. Like the blue neon coffee sign by the highway wasn't already trashy. I sat up on my knees and fiddled with the lock. hovering over the lock a few times to line it up properly. Finally, the lock fell into place and slid in with a faint click.

I shimmied the door a bit to ensure it was locked properly. Satisfied and numb-legged, I finally stood up. I was met with the stare of something on the opposite side of the glass. I yelped instinctively, clapping my hand over my mouth. It had two huge and vividly orange irises that met mine instantly, almost like it had been staring already, and then I came into view. Its face was pressed against the glass forcefully, pale skin flat against it. I slowly realized it was an animal, a deer. It was a doe with huge, orange eyes. At least that's what my instinct told me, since it looked more like a

dough than anything else. I stared at it for a few moments more, not knowing what to do. At first, I thought it was not alive, since it was so still. But then I remembered it was still standing, and its body was moving fluidly, with breaths in and out, calmly. I finally broke my stare and stepped backwards, glancing at its body. It was big for a dough, at least I think so. I'm not too keen on animals like her, but it felt way too big to be normal. Finally, after nature's longest staring contest,

I decided it probably wouldn't come up to a man-made structure like this, unless it needed help. Animals have a strange way of knowing when humans can help them or not, and this one decided I could give it some help. I turned back to my coffee bar, grabbing my phone to call the sheriff's office. They have an animal control unit that adored animals. They would be able to help it, I thought. I picked up the phone and dialed the number. Ring, ring.

I was still watching the dough. Who was watching me too? Face still plastered uncomfortably against the glass. Big eyes, not blinking. Thank you for calling County Sheriff's Office. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call 911. We are currently out of the office or dealing with a previous issue. Please leave a message and we'll get back to you shortly.

Thank you. I turn towards the kitchen, glancing at the wall clock. Since it's such a small town, they didn't often stay open late at this hour. I sighed and figured leaving a voicemail would help either way. Maybe someone would come in after whatever accident was holding them up and would come for help. Hey guys, it's Jenny from the coffee shop down by the state line. Um, I have something weird for you guys. I'm looking for animal control to come help me with something.

A dough came up to the shop and it looks like it's in trouble. Its eyes are like super orange. I turned again toward the glass to check on the animal again. It was sliding sideways, shuffling its legs and keeping its face pressed against the glass, eyes staying on me. It was shimmying sideways to the right slowly. It caught me off guard and I stopped talking. What the? Its eyes are orange and it's acting really, really weird.

It might be sick or something. The dough was catching speed, legs wobbly, as it smeared spit across the glass and slid to the entire other side of the store, never breaking eye contact. At this point, its lips were pulling back on the glass, revealing its mouth, which were full of red teeth, perfectly square teeth. They looked, well, they looked like human teeth. What the? I took a breath. Forgetting, I was leaving a message on the phones of a very religious conservative police officers. Sorry, um, something is wrong with it. Like, I think it's really sick and you guys should, I should, um, probably come see and check it out. I don't want to mess with it just in case.

Please hurry. I finally snapped out of it and hung up the phone. I missed the counter with the phone since I was watching the dough and my phone fell on the floor with a crack. The dough stopped. It froze quite literally like a deer in the headlights. It was halfway to the middle door on the right hand of the store. I watched her as she watched me. It felt like years that we stared at each other in stillness and silence. Then it began again, sliding itself across the glass, but with an unknown speed and purpose. I don't know why, but I grew terrified of this dough for some reason and wanted the doors to be locked. I slid across the floor on my knees, shaking my hands trying to lock the door into place before it was there. She slid across the ground, still hovering

a few feet above my crouched figure and height. As I tried to lock the door, I couldn't help but look at it. Something felt so wrong. It was moving so quickly, and its legs couldn't keep up well. Speaking of her legs, they didn't quite look right. They were very long, and the fur around them had been what seems like singed off, leaving dark red and brown skin underneath. I was about to lock the door with her about six feet away when I finally realized why its legs looked so unusual. Instead of hooves in the dirt, this dough had ankles, joints that connected its skinny legs to its flat pale feet. Feet? What the? I finally yelled out. My skin going freezing. My surprise was short-lived and I didn't have time to think. The door began opening. I clamped my fingers around

the lock and the other side of the door, forcing it closed. I looked above me where the dough had lodged its hand, yes, hand, into the crack between the two doors. It stared at me intently, not moving. I didn't know what to do. I used all of my strength to force the two panes of glass shut over its fingers. I don't know how, but somehow I had the power to force them out of the crack in the door and slammed it shut. I slid the lock in with tears streaming down my face. I fell back, watching it. It looked unfazed as its fingers dripped with wet liquid. It just watched me unravel. What are you?

I couldn't help but ask in fear. It didn't respond. Just sat in the dirt, letting its damaged hands slide across the glass. Then it smiled. Its human teeth visible beneath its lips. I almost lost my latte over the floor I just mopped. It started sliding again, but with a new intensity towards the complete other side of glass to the other unlocked door.

Luckily, I was faster and scrambled over, locking it quickly before it even reached the halfway mark. We sat on opposite sides of the glass and watched each other intently. I have no idea how. I think it's because of all of my adrenaline had been spent up crying, but somehow I ended up drifting off. I only woke up when my head smacked the side of the marble coffee bar. That's when my eyes flew open and the dough was not in front of me. I flew to my feet, adrenaline rushing.

to my head. How am I so stupid? How did I fall asleep like that? I scanned the surrounding area, shaking like a leaf. The only remnants of the dough was the spit and red trail across the glass doors around me. I felt my heart start to slow down. That's the worst thing to ever happen to me. I took a deep breath and decided morning shift could deal with cleaning the glass, and my time here was done. I waited about 15 more minutes just scanning. the night around me. The trees and highway were covered in neon blue light, illuminating my lonely Ford in the parking lot, but still no sign of the dough. It was now or never in my mind. I started formulating a plan. I would have my keys in between my fingers, Walmart parking lot style,

and made a mad dash towards my car, then I would lock it immediately and drive like a bad out of hell until I reached home. Yeah, good plan. I never parked. very far from the staff entrance out back, probably only a hundred feet or so away. I sighed heavily and picked up my phone. The entire front was cracked all the way down, blurring the LED lines into the jagged pink and blue lines. I managed to activate Siri and dialed the sheriff's number again. It rang and rang. I hung up. I guess I'm on my own. I finally picked myself up, checking my surroundings one more time. All clear. I took this as my sign and started toward the staff door behind the kitchen. I didn't hesitate and swung the door open, keys in hand. The air outside was freezing

and completely still. My car sat across the parking lot facing the trees. Only a hundred more feet and I would be safe and warm, headed home to deal with whatever trauma I'll have after this. I was running when I saw it. The tree right above my car was swinging back and forth heavily. the only thing moving in the woods. No, no, no, no. I stopped in my tracks, realizing what was happening. Finally, the familiar red fingers

began shimmying down the tree, leading itself downwards toward the ground. I saw the top of its head, illuminated with blue light. It looked like stitches trailing all the way down its back, gross and raw. It was moving at an incredible speed, climbing face first down the tree.

It took me a few seconds, seconds to react, and in that time it had landed on all fours on the grass right beside the driver's side of my car. It paused, its orange eyes meeting mine once again, except it didn't look like a dough anymore. Besides the pelt of speckled white and brown around its body, it looked like a person, or maybe something in between a dough and a person. If that was a real thing, Its skin was half fur, half charred flesh. Its teeth were bare now, no lips holding them back, just skin around its face, like it had been cut open.

I couldn't help it, and screamed. It came out of me before I even knew it was there, and I started running, back to the store. I could hear its heavy footsteps behind me, extremely fluid and only a few inches away from my steps. I flung myself inside, holding the door handle closed. It was obviously messing with the door on the other side, trying to hungrily open it. Even though it was struggling, it made no noise, no panting, no grunting.

It was soundless, like a hunter. It was hunting me. Then I heard it, so clear I could almost let go of the handle entirely. Hey, Jenny, sorry I'm late. I had to stop and get gas. It's Molly. Molly? Right outside the door?

What? Is all I could say, tears on my eyelashes again. Yeah, I'm sorry again. I already talked to Robert, so you're good to leave. Relief. Sweet relief that I wasn't alone. Then panic. Molly, you have to leave.

There's something outside. Can you let me in? It's freezing out here. My body ran cold. Yes, of course I have to let her in. I wanted to, so badly in that. moment to open the door and let Molly in on this nightmare. My grip on the door loosened. Then it hit me. Molly is sick. She wasn't coming in at all tonight. Why is she suddenly here?

Can you let me in now, please? Her voice was strained and wrong. It was pitched so much lower than her normal bubbly voice. That wasn't Molly. My grip was too loose with confusion. The door was flung open. I scrambled backwards on my back again. I stood up on two legs and finally got a good image of it. It was huge, had to be six feet tall and skinny as the pine trees behind it. It had something under its head, well, under its doe head, something that resembled the jaw of a human, except it was unhinged and swinging from side to side with its motion.

Red liquid dripped onto the floor. Its body was wiry, and I could see through its papery skin. in. And that's all I saw before my fear made me uncapped the wasp spray behind me and shoot it right in its direction. It stumbled backwards for a second, and I took my chance to get back off and run like no one's business. I leaped over the coffee bar and started unlocking the glass door. It started sliding across the slick door with its inhuman speed, and the lock was not unlocking. I screamed, trembling so hard the lock slipped out of my fingers. Somehow, don't ask, because I have no clue. I managed to slip it upwards and the glass slid to the side. I got on my feet

and yanked the door shut behind me. I didn't turn, but felt the glass shatter into pieces only a few feet from my back. Shards of glass embedded themselves into my back of my flannel as I propelled myself forward toward the Exxon Station. They have an outdoor bathroom that was always locked that I used every now and again, and I've never wanted to be in that tiny, smelly bathroom more in my entire life. Before my feet hit the asphalt on the road, I felt it. Hands on my back, on my collar, strong forceful hands on my shirt, yanking me backwards. No, I cried, snatching my arms forward, desperately, raking my feet towards the highway. I felt my limbs cry out in pain as its nails dug into me.

No, I thought it came from me. Then I realized I hadn't spoke. It wasn't me. This thing has said it. and it sounded just like me. It was copying me. This is what broke me, and I finally launched myself over the threshold into the road.

I lost its grip, and I twisted around to face it, crawling backwards out of the road. My elbows hit the soft dirt, and I fell backwards, pulling myself into a ball. It geared up its body to leap. I shut my eyes, then it was gone. A huge wave of air zoomed between us, followed by squealing brakes.

The dough was launched yards and yards away into the woods. I heard a sickening crack as its back hit the bark of a pine tree. I watched it stumble into the brush below. How the truck missed me is completely beyond me. Did it hit a person? Was that a person? The guy driving was yelling, eyes huge. I warily stood up, grabbing the rolled-down window to look at my savior.

No, I shook my head and leaped into the back of the truck. I asked the guy to drive me to the sheriff's office, which he finally did after I convinced him that I was not going to turn him in for vehicular manslaughter. He had been high as a kite, speeding up to 70 in a 35 road with his lights off. That's why I didn't see him until he hit the dough. I really didn't turn him in, not that he gave me the chance. I got out of the back of his truck, and he sped off, turning the lights on and getting the hell out. Luckily, two of the officers were there, awake and overwhelmingly worried when I showed up. They went over with their full unit and animal control, but I did not go with them.

Apparently, they followed the red trails from the shop into the woods, and it stopped completely, out of nowhere, right at the woods line. They saw where my shirt had ripped by the highway and collected it for me. They ran samples on the DNA found. It didn't match anyone. They had to close down the coffee shop since I told Molly what happened, and we both quit. Scott and Robert were the only ones working, but it didn't take long for the horror story to reach Scott, who then quit mid-shift. The town talked for sure. People came to my house asking about it.

The police chalked it up to being a bear or a wolf or some large animal that had rabies and was chasing me around. This was the story they went with, writing it in the papers, telling my family. I told my family what I saw, and they decided I was too terrified and traumatized to be seeing things correctly. Though there was a glint in the sheriff's eye

when I told him what it looked like, something inside of him believed me. I moved to Seattle a week later, taking out a loan and renting a studio right in the heart of the city, surrounded by people. I didn't work anything but day shifts anymore, and I haven't had a chai latte since.

I keep the red-stained scrap of my flannel in my wallet as a constant reminder that somehow I'm alive. I've told no one except my girlfriend who moved in with me, and now you guys. We keep the lights on in the apartment constantly, even when we sleep, and I haven't passed a bottle of wasp spray without having a panic attack since. Truly, I don't know what happened, or what that dough really was. I don't understand anything that happened, except that now I have crippling anxiety when night time rolls around, and that I nearly scare myself every time I see a deer of any sort. My girlfriend found a therapist for me, and I go every now and then,

but I don't really talk about what happened, just how alone I feel since it happened, that no one can relate to me, and no one else would ever believe me. Every now and then I get a call from the sheriff who is genuinely concerned with my well-being after seeing me in that state that night. The most recent time he called, I didn't pick up as I finally fell asleep that night, which was incredibly rare for me to fall asleep without sleeping pills. I woke up the next morning and grogly checked my phone. He called once. He left a message, though. Hey, Jenny, it's me again. Just wanted to check up on you. I haven't seen you in a while. I didn't realize you left so quickly.

I didn't have time to say goodbye. You should come visit again soon. We miss you here. Take care. I listened to it probably 12 times. I played it from my girlfriend, and we both listened to it for a few more times after comparing it to the other messages he had left,

but she confirmed exactly what I thought too. Something was off about this one. It was lower pitched. and strained, not quite his voice.