Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Work on the Navajo Reservation. I Learned There Are Rules for Killing Skinwalkers | Part 2

Episode Date: October 7, 2026

Working nights on the Navajo Reservation, I thought the warnings about Skinwalkers were just old stories—until I learned there were rules for surviving them. Rules for spotting them, rules for hunting them, and most importantly, rules you never break. Because out here, killing one doesn’t always mean it’s over. Huge thanks to our sponsor: EarnIn: Download EarnIn on the App Store or Google Play. And when you sign up, type in “ScaryHorrorStories” under PODCAST. It really helps support the show. Author:  Jake Bible Check out all of Jake’s horror story collections at: https://jakebible.com/short-storiesnovellascollections/ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #scarystories #horrorstories #drnosleep #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Part 2. Learning the Ropes My hands are already blistering as I hold the shovel, sweat, pouring off my body in the late afternoon sun. Don't ask again, Alyssa says from the side of the deep hole I'm currently excavating on my own. Okay, not so much a hole as a grave. Let's call it what it is. Ask what? I take a moment to catch my breath. I wasn't going to ask anything. You still want to call the cops. Trust me. The res police aren't going to be helpful. Res police?

She eyes me. Yeah, you're on the Navajo Nation, Tom. Where'd you think you were? Nowhere? Like, in the middle of it? She smirks. You'd see it that way. I dig a few more shovelfuls.

Toss them to the side and stop. Okay, yes. I was going to ask if we should call the cops again. I mean, you shot and killed two people. And there's a third wandering around in the dark. desert somewhere. Maybe we get ahead of this and figure out a cover story instead of burying it. She sighs and takes a seat on the edge of the makeshift grave. You're only right on one of those points. She kicks her heels against the side, and dirt flows down into the grave. So, first, yes,

I shot three people, good shots too, right between the eyes. I don't know if I'd be bragging about that, I mutter. I really shouldn't say anything. I should, just, just. keep my mouth shut, watch my ass for the next couple of hours, and slip away tonight after the sun goes down. I don't need this. I was trying to get away from shit like this. She continues without acknowledging my comment, which is either a good thing or a bad thing. I don't know her well enough yet to tell the difference. Where you are wrong is that I didn't kill anyone. Well, not the little girl, obviously. Not ma and pa over there either. She jerks her head toward the two bodies set against the soiled mattress under the empty swing set,

which is why we need to get them in the ground before the sun goes down. So keep digging. Not that I'm admitting anything, but I know what dead bodies look and feel like. Those folks are dead. They aren't folks. They aren't people at all. Not anymore. Not since they decided to become corrupt.

When she trails off, I glance over at her. Please, keep talking. You just said some shit that needs serious unpacking. I shouldn't. It's not something we talk about to outsiders. Best you keep digging and just listen to me when I tell you to do something. The next 24 hours will be tricky. She gets to her feet and pulls out her phone. I should call Lou. Then she walks off, but I'm not having any of that. Hey, we're not done talking. Yeah, we are. She calls over her shoulder. Then I hear her say. Lou, they came back. She pauses. Two of them, yeah.

I got the new Bill of Ghana digging a grave. Another pause? No, fire won't do it, not this time. They walked right into the shop, Lou. You think a little heat is going to take care of that shit? She huffs. I don't know how they got past that, but they did. Listen, going to need your help.

The one who acts like a little girl took off, and yes, I know how bad that is. I keep digging as I formulate my exit. The second the sun goes down, I'll get to my truck and drive the hell out of this place. As long as Alyssa doesn't put a slug in me and bury me in the grave, I'm currently digging for dear old mom and dad, that is. Damn, why didn't I grab my 45?

Oh, right, because this shouldn't be happening. I don't care what you have to do. Get your ass over here. It's your damn mess, too. Pause, pause, pause. Good. Yes, we'll have them in the earth before sundown. Just do what you have to do and be here before moonrise.

She is going to be a nasty bitch tonight. I can't hear her hang up, but it's obvious she's off the call when I hear her footsteps get close to the grave. Almost done, I say, halfway expecting to see her holding her 45 on me. But she isn't. Instead, she's rubbing her forehead with both hands over and over. Headache? You have no idea, she sighs. Skin walkers.

That's all I'm going to tell you. That does it. I cough out a lung full of dry dirt, throw the shovel to the side, and climb up out of the grave. What are you doing? We have a ticking clock. She snaps.

You just said Skinwalkers. I'm not a hermit. I have the internet, so I know what that is. I also know that's flipping crazy talk, so no offense. I am walking away from your psycho little horror show. You have no idea what you were talking about,

so you watched a shit. I used big, huge quotes on that word documentary, and now you think you know what Skinwalkers are. But you don't. And you said that you weren't going to tell me, so I'm gone. I'm done. Don't worry about your secret getting out. I'm no rat.

You sure about that? Tom. The way she says my fake name gets that tingle at the base of my skull going again. Where are you going to? You have two cartels and one nasty loan shark on your ass. Why do you think I hired you? You know how to handle dark shit. And if you die, well, it isn't anyone real dying.

It's Thomas Freed, who doesn't exist. You're crazy! I back away. My eyes on her the whole time. Can I dodge a bullet? No, but I have a better chance if I see it coming. All of this is crazy. I'm trying to get away from crazy.

There's no getting away. Even if you leave, you can't escape. Oh? Is that so? Are you the rat now? Are you going to snitch on me and tell the cartels where I am? Screw the cartels. They're the least of your problems.

I'm talking about her. Her who? The one that looks like a little girl. She's got your scent. It doesn't matter where you go. She's going to track you down and rip your guts out of your body through your asshole. I shake my head, turn, and run. I don't bother going through the building.

No way I'm going back in there. I just hang a left and skirt them on. monstrosity until I'm out front, and only a few strides from my Dotson, which now has a dusty minivan parked next to it. My shoulders slump as I see my pickup sitting flush on the gravel parking lot. The two tires in view thoroughly slashed to shreds. I circle the pickup and see the same on the other side. Alyssa comes around the building, sees my truck, and shakes her head.

She holds up a finger before I can shout at her. I didn't do that. It was her on her way out. I still shout anyway. That girl was dead. And she was a little girl! Little girls can't do this to tires! Not a little girl.

And, yeah, skin walkers can do this and worse to tires. You saw what they did to that poor Puma. What do you think she's going to do when she catches up? My throat goes dry. Was that a Puma on the mattress? Jesus Christ! Pumas are the same as Cougars and mountain lions. It takes a lot to take down a predator like that without a high-powered rifle.

You'd have to be strong as hell and have claws more dead. deadly than the big cats. I look at my slashed tires. Shit. Alyssa closes her eyes and rubs her forehead again. Just help me get the bodies into the ground, please. Once they are buried, I promise I'll tell you everything. I don't say anything. I don't even twitch a muscle. Please. Everything? Even the stuff you're not supposed to tell white guys like me?

What'd you say I was when you were talking to that Lou guy? Villagana. Is that Navajo for honky? She laughs, and it's a real laugh, not a mocking one, or a knowing one, or an ironic one. It's a true belly laugh. Yes, it's Navajo for Honky. She laughs some more. And that Lou guy is going to be a big help when he finally gets his ass here. Hopefully, we can stop this shit before it goes any further.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, I finally say. But I'm grabbing something first. I open the passenger side door. and reach under the seat. It takes a minute to untangle the revolver from the seat springs, but when I do, I hold it up and out, so Alyssa gets a good look at the gun. I'm keeping this on me. No argument's here. Probably a good idea. Too bad you didn't have it

with you earlier. I don't know whether to scream or laugh, so instead of either, I tuck the revolver into my waistband and walk back the way I came. Fine, I'll keep digging. We get the body's buried, then you spill all the goddamn beans. But don't bring up the cartels or that asshole mulligan again, got it? I help you do what you need to do, then we go from there. But my past is off limits. Deal? Deal? My shoulders slump as I reach the corner of the building. I turn and look at her. Deal? Just like that? That was way too easy. The breath is knocked for my lungs, and I'm suddenly face first on the ground, my right cheek being resurfaced by hot gravel. I think I hear Alyssa shout.

Pain slashes through my scalp, and I can feel the warm blood running instantly. My warm blood. I've done time. Shouldn't be much of a surprise considering where I am in life. So being jumped from behind is nothing new to me. It's a shitty way to be taken down, but there is a way out of it. Before I barely register my torn scalp, I'm already shoving up onto my hands and knees with all of my strength.

Whatever is on me, and I have to assume it's a freaking puma, since it sure feels like cat claws are trying to tear me apart, not to mention the carry-on stink wafting over me, whatever it is. It isn't stronger than a man desperate to stay alive one day more. I buck and thrash, and the weight on my back goes flying. Then I scramble on hands and knees for several yards before spinning around, jumping up to my feet and pulling my pistol,

which isn't where it's supposed to be anymore. Instead, it's on the gravel at the feet of Dad, and Dad is staring straight at me with slitted pupils and very, very, very, sharp teeth bared, looking surprisingly Puma-like. Then his attention turns to Alyssa, and he charges her full speed. She opens fire with her 45, but it doesn't even phase the bastard. Her pistol clicks empty. Dad is going to plow right into her, and by the look of those teeth and razor-sharp

fingernails I'm seeing, Alyssa is about to take on a world of hurt. Then Dad's head turns to mist. One second there, the next gone. His body takes three more steps, then flops into the gravel, blood gushing from the open. and neck. What the shit? I yell just as I hear the gunshot echoed to our location. Alyssa doesn't even pause. She empties her pistol cylinder, reaches into her pocket, and pulls out six more cartridges. She takes off running around the building as she reloads. I'm still standing here, stunned. Then I hear the sound of an engine and spin around. Down the road,

a Jeep Wrangler is flooring it, racing directly toward the parking lot. Think about how strange it is that we work, earn money, and then still have to wait. to actually get paid. We're used to getting almost everything else instantly, but somehow payday is still on a schedule. That's where Earning comes in. Earnin gives you access to money you've already earned, with up to $150 per day and up to $1,000 between paychecks. So if you've already put in the work, it can give you more flexibility around when you access your money instead of always waiting for payday. It's a simple way to make payday timing feel less restrictive. Download earnin on the app store or Google Play, spelled like earning money, but without the G.

And when you sign up, type in scary horror stories under podcast. It really helps support the show. Earnin is a financial technology company, not a bank. Access limits are based on your earnings and risk factors. Standard cash outs, take one to two business days with no mandatory fees. Expedited transfers available for a fee. Tips are voluntary and don't affect the service. Available in select states. Terms and restrictions apply. Visit earnin.com for full detail. If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments, and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, The SCP Experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied, contained, and sometimes unleashed. These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. Oh, shit. Is it one of the cartels? No, no, their snipers are way better shots. That exploded head would have been mine. Mulligan? Did he send someone after me? His brand of hired help could easily miss my head. But that was quite a miss. Dad was already running towards Alyssa. Six gunshots ring out from behind the building, making me spin back in that direction.

Alyssa? I shout. No answer. Shit. I take a step, then remember my pistol. I find it, check the cylinder even though I know it's fully loaded, and walk to the back of the building. Back to the trailer and empty swing set and grave that I've partially dug. Alyssa!

Still no answer. Before I can get all the way around, I hear the crunch of tires on gravel. The Wrangler is in the parking lot, which means I have an unknown at my back. I also have an unknown at my front. Okay, let's be realistic. I'm drowning in the unknown. I honestly don't know why Alyssa would hire an outsider for this shit, despite what she said. I don't even know if Alyssa is alive or dead.

I don't know who's in the Wrangler. I don't know why there's a family of Skinwalkers attacking the place. I don't know why I'm even thinking that Skinwalkers are real. I really, really don't know jack's shit. A car door slams. I turn toward the parking lot, and what I'm guessing is the more dangerous unknown. lifting the 45, I take aim at the corner of the building. Dust drifts by, kicked up by the jeep's tires.

A shadow on the ground, a big shadow. I pull the hammer back. I see a foot, then a knee, then a very large thigh. My finger eases into the trigger guard, and I start to squeeze. Please don't, Alyssa says right by my ear. Her hand, suddenly under my hand, lifting my pistol up, so it's pointing toward the sky. My finger eases off the trigger as a very large man rounds the corner, a 50-caliber Barrett rifle resting on his shoulder. He sneers down at the headless dad.

Bullseye, bitch, he says, then smiles up at me. No, he's smiling at Alyssa. Then he frowns. The frown is for me. This is the guy. This is the guy, Alyssa says. She pats my elbow. Ease that hammer back, will you, hoss?

I do as I'm told. It's safer for all of us. Tucking my pistol back into my waistband, I stand here in the heat, suffering through this guy's deliberate and slow assessment of me. Okay, he'll do, he finally says. Looks like shit, though. You okay, hoss? Do?

Do for what? I ask. I know he'll do. I hired him, asshole. Alyssa says, then grabs my elbow and tugs me backward. Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Lou, grab dear old dad there. The hole is deep enough. Time to get started.

I just got here, eh? Let me grab a pop from inside first while you stitch up Whitey here. Shooting heads off at 300 yards is thirsty work. We're out of diet pop, and you can't have sugar drinks, Mr. Pre-Diabetic. Come on, you're worse than Mom. Well, that answers who Lou is. Then I blink a few times as pain radiates through my head. Stitch up, Whitey?

I ask, just before the world spins and I hit the deck. Hard. Alyssa and Lou stand over me. Alyssa sighs. Okay, you carry him inside and stitch him up, Alyssa says. I'll drag dad to the hole. Sounds like a plan,

Lou says with a grin. No soda pop, Lou. I mean it. Whatever. As I'm lifted up like a sack of laundry and thrown over Lou's shoulder, the world spins some more, then goes fuzzy, then goes dark. I wake to a not-so light slap to my cheek,

The cheek that's not cheese-graded by parking lot gravel. There you are, hoss. Alluming Lou says, he leans back. You had yourself quite the nap. Leave him alone, Lou. He wasn't born into this shit. I swivel my head and gasp at the pain. My eyes cross, then focus.

And I see Alyssa standing by a work table, covered in all sorts of items. What's going on? I asked. How long was I out? Two hours, Lou says. And in those two hours, we did what needed to be done. Those bitches won't be coming back in this lifetime, that's for sure.

I don't know what that means. The Skin Walkers, Ma and Pa, they have both been beheaded and buried. Their time is done on this plane. They're dead? Like dead dead, because Dad there was dead. Then he was trying to go full wood chipper on my skull. I super glued the flappy parts back together for you. You're welcome, Lou says. Thanks?

I slowly sit up and see that we're in the very far corner of the warehouse slash shop slash museum, whatever it is. Um, so what now? Now we wait for her to show up, Alyssa says. She turns from the workbench and loads cartridges into a different 45 than the one she used earlier. That's when I noticed that half the crap on the work bench is firearms. I know I'm new at this, but guns didn't seem to work before. I look at Lou and shrug. which hurts like hell.

Except that Barrett of yours. Take off the head, and it buys you some time, he says. But not a ton. Wait, what? Are you saying Dad would have come back? Lou looks at Alyssa, then back at me. He nods. Yep.

There are rules to killing Skimwalkers, Alyssa says, and sets the 45 on the workbench as she picks up another one, this time a semi-automatic. She slaps a magazine home and chambers around, Taking the head off is one of them, but it's only the first step. What are the other rules? Not for your ears, Billagana, Lou says quickly.

Before you get your white boxers in a bunch, just know that we cannot tell you all the rules. Alyssa says, I start to argue, and she holds up a hand. I know I promised, I lied, and for good reason, the rules will lose their power, and we can't afford that. I sigh, but don't fight her. Because she's coming, right? Lou laughs. Okay, maybe he is a good ire. He catches on faster than the last guy.

Last guy? What last guy? Neither of the strong siblings answers me. I try a different tactic. Okay, how am I going to help kill the little girl when... Not a little girl. Alyssa interrupts. The skin walker that looks like a little girl then.

I laugh at the absurdity of it all. If I don't know any of the rules, I can't help kill her. Them. Them? Them. Lou says and crosses to the workbench. He picks up a pump-action shotgun. She'll bring friends.

Friends? How many damn skim-walkers do you have on this reservation? Too damn many these days. Times have been hard. People get desperate. Alyssa rubs her forehead. They listen to the wrong voices, promising promises that are only curses.

You should understand. Your culture has its own devils whispering loudly now, too. I can't argue against her there. Then how do I help? I ask. Lou walks the shotgun over to me and places it in my hands. You shoot anything and everything that comes in this place tonight. The shells have been blessed. Not going to say anymore. That's it? I'm muscle?

Alyssa snorts. Unbiased muscle. Lou and I don't know what they'll show up as. More importantly, we don't know who they'll show up as. I see my childhood friend's face, and I'll hesitate. Then I'll die because of that hesitation. We need you to put them down so we can drag them into the pits, perform the... Never mind all that.

You just put them down, and we'll do the rest. Pits? You dug more? You were out for two hours, hoss. Lou says and laughs. A lot gets done in two hours. Oh, sorry. Lou lifts me up onto my feet.

No dizziness, so that's good. He looms over me, and I'm not short. No wonder Alyssa is so tall, runs in the family. You shoot anything you see. See, man, woman, child, coyote, wolf, Puma, anything. You see it, you shoot it. Because no matter what it looks like, it ain't what it seems. Not tonight.

Understood, hoss. I feel the weight of the shotgun in my hands. Looking it over, I nod. Understood. Then I smile over at Alyssa. I'm thinking something like this pays more than overtime, yeah? Double. No, triple pay.

You live through tonight, and you won't need to worry about money. Okay. The way you said that makes me think you're going to just kill me after this shit is done. Alyssa laughs. We're not going to kill you. You'll get paid. In cash. Real cash. No tricks. You aren't making a devil's bargain here, hoss. The devils are all out there, Lou adds, and they're on their way. Just as he says that, the electronic bell buzz dings throughout the place. Alyssa's face crunches up in anger.

Lou, you said you locked it all up. I did. Son of a bitch, they're already here. Alyssa picks up two 9mm pistols and holds them down by her thighs. You ready, Tom? Hell no. Lou claps me on my shoulder, and my left arm almost goes numb. That's the spirit hoss.

There's a loud clatter, and some barely hushed cursing comes from up front. Then I hear a voice I really didn't think I'd ever hear again call out. Hey? Lou and Alyssa both look at me. Ah, shit. Hank? Where are you at, boy? I know you're in here.

That neighbor of yours ratted you out for a half-bindle of brown, told us all about his granddaddy's pickup truck. Didn't take long to track you down. So how about you save us all a bunch of time and show yourself? Lou and Alyssa are still staring at me. Who the hell is that? Lou asks. Before I can answer, Alyssa says,

Mulligan. Mulligan? What the hell is a mulligan? Tom? Or is it Hank? Care to explain to my brother who Mulligan is? Nervous sweat is wetting my armpits. and running down my spine, pooling at my waistband.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Tom? I clear my throat. Um, yeah. So a Mulligan is a real nasty piece of shit that I might owe about 500K to. Lou coughs. Did you say 500K? He turns to Alyssa.

Did you know? I knew, but I didn't think he'd be tracked here. No, sis, you didn't think. You didn't think at all. Hey, you people know we can hear you, right? Mulligan calls out. How about you walk your asses up here? And we'll decide how to proceed from there.

Sound good? Because it sounds good to me. Oh, and come unarmed. Fat chance. Lou mutters, then walks to the work table and picks up his Barrett. Boom time. Before either Alyssa or I can say anything, the sound of exploding glass fills the building.

Holy shit! What the hell are! Mulligan shouts. His words are drowned out by automatic gunfire, plus a dozen howls. hisses and roars. The Skinwalkers have joined the party too. Shit.