Snook - 3 Scary Skinwalker Stories

Episode Date: February 1, 2026

These were some of the most insane skinwalker stories I have ever read! What was your guys favorite story? Thank you guys for watching, let me know if you would like to see more content like this in the future! But they are all amazing, so make sure to watch the whole vid! Thanks for watching, like and subscribe. Subscribe to my 2nd channel!CREDITS -Visual_Truth_772 - https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1dxvrg9/my_grandma_just_passed_away_and_i_found_her_old/Avi_Throwaway - https://www.reddit.com/r/skinwalkers/comments/nun0rd/i_have_a_friend_who_left_the_navajo_reservation_a/2nd channel - ‪‪‪‪‪​⁠​⁠ ‪‪‪​⁠‪@SnookPlus‬ Edited by - https://x.com/ascend_edit?t=rD828Upu3...IF ANY OF THESE STORIES BELONG TO YOU, PLEASE EMAIL ME AT - [e-mail] before filing a copyright takedown or anything. Please, we can get it sorted out through email or some other form of communication, thank you.NEXT SUB GOAL - 500,000 SUBSCRIBERSI love you. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys. Welcome back to another scary stories video. And today I've got three scary Skinwalker stories for you. And you guys have been asking for some Skin Walker stories for a long time. So I'm here to deliver. I hope you enjoy them. I enjoyed them a lot. And I hope you do too. And thank you so much for stopping by. I appreciate every single one of you. And before we get into these three stories, please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It's the channel's goal to be at 500,000 subscribers. So please subscribe so we can get closer to that goal. And yeah, like I said before, thank you so much for watching, and let's get into three scary Skinwalker stories. My grandma just passed away, and I found her old journals. My grandma passed away last month.

I inherited her home. It's been in the family for years, but my parents have their own home a bit further away now, so after my grandma passed away, it was all left to me. My sister and I were going through her belongings the other day, and we discovered a small wooden chest hidden in the attic. It was cold, covered in dust, and had a rusty lock that had long since ceased to function. Inside, we found stacks of leather-bound journals, each meticulously dated and filled with my grandmother's elegant handwriting. The journal spanned decade from 1960 to the turn of the century. Grandma was always a storyteller, weaving tales of our family's deep roots in the remote

corners of Appalachia, but she never mentioned these journals. As I started reading, the stories unfolded within a... eerie familiarity, painting a chilling picture of our family's history. With each entry, the sense of foreboding grew stronger, and I realized these weren't just stories. They were warnings, and now the past seems to be clined its way into my present. Journal entry, August 15, 1960. We've settled in Immigton a remote isolated part of Appalachia. The land here feels ancient, steeped in untold stories and whispers of the past. The locals are a superstitious lot, with warnings about the woods that surround our new home. They say never to whistle after dark

as it invites the attention of things best left undisturbed. Last night, as the sun set behind the mountains, I felt a strange heaviness in the air, almost as if the mountains themselves were watching us. The wind carried strange, faint whispers that seemed to beckon me into the forest. I wonder if moving here was a mistake. Journal entry, October 2nd, 1961. Something strange happened tonight. As dusk fell, I heard a distant, haunting whistle from the direction of the woods. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I heard inside, bolting. the door behind me. Curiosity got the better of me, and I peeked through the window. At the edge of the forest, I saw a figure. At first, it looked like a man, but his limbs were unnaturally long,

its eyes glowing with an eerie light. It stood there, motionless for what felt like hours before vanishing into the shadows. I didn't sleep at all that night, haunted by the image of those glowing eyes. Later, as the night grew deeper, the sounds of the forest became unnaturally silent. and I heard the creak of the floorboards outside my bedroom door. I held my breath, straining to hear any movement, but there was nothing. The air grew colder, and a sense of dread seeped into my bones. I knew something was out there, something that didn't belong. Journal entry, November 13, 1965.

The air in Amington has grown thick with fear. People have been disappearing without a trace. Last night, I was jolted awake by the sound of someone, whistling outside my window. My heart race as I peeked through the curtains. There, under the pale moonlight, stood a tall figure. Its eyes were like twin flames burning into my soul. It raised a hand and beckoned, its long fingers curling in a gesture that chilled me to the bone. I stayed awake until the first light of dawn, too terrified to move or make a sound. As the hours dragged on, I heard the sound of soft footsteps circling the house. The floorboards creek.

and the walls seemed to groan under the weight of an unseen presence. I could feel it watching me. A cold, malevolent gaze that pierced through the walls. When Don finally broke, the oppressive feeling lifted, but the terror lingered. Journal entry, February 9th, 1970. Uncle Bill is gone. He left the house in the dead of night, muttering that he heard Ma's voice calling to him from the woods. We tried to stop him, but he was convinced.

it was her, despite Ma being dead for five years. The search party found his hat the next day torn and bloodied, but there was no sign of Uncle Bill. The locals whisper about the things that mimic human voices to lure their prey. I can't shake the feeling that something malevolent is watching us, waiting for the right moment to strike. The night he disappeared, the air was thickened with fog, and the trees seemed to close in around the house. Shadows dance at the edge of the forest.

and I heard faint whispers carried on the wind. They sounded like ma, but distorted, wrong. As the fog crept closer, the whispers grew louder, and I could feel a presence pressing in on all sides. When Uncle Bill stepped into the mist, it swallowed him whole, and the whispers stopped. Journal entry, September 21, 1980. I found strange tracks behind the house today.

They looked like hoof prints, but far larger and deeper than any animal native to these parts. The old-timers say it's the devil himself, roaming the hills and looking for souls to claim. They speak of an ancient curse, a pact made by our ancestors with dark forces to protect the land. I used to think that these were just old wives' tales,

but now I'm not so sure. The air is thick with a sense of foreboding, and I can't shake the feeling that something's watching us from the shadows. As I followed the tracks, I noticed the forest growing unnaturally-sually-suffold. island. The usual sounds of wildlife were absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive stillness. The tracks led to a clearing with the ground was scorched, as if burned by an intense heat.

In the center of the clearing, I saw a figure tall and gaunt, with eyes that glowed like embers. It turned its gaze towards me, and I felt a wave of dread wash over me. I fled back to the house, and I could feel its presence following me, a dark shadow that clung to my every step. Journal entry. May 12th, 1995. I've seen it with my own eyes. The creature. Whatever it is. I was checking out the traps when I felt an overwhelming sense of dread as if I was being watched. I turned and saw a creature emerging from the woods. It shifted forms part human, part beast, its eyes burning with an unnatural light. It let out a low growl, a sound that seemed to vibrate through my very bones.

I ran stumbling and tripping in my haste, but I never looked back. Even now I can feel its eyes on me, a malevolent presence that haunts my every step. The night after my encounter I heard scratching at my window. I dared not to look, but the sound was persistent, a slow, deliberate scraping that set my nerves on edge. I covered my ears, but the noise only grew louder, more incessant. Finally, I mustered the courage to peek through the curtains. There it was, the skinwalker, its face pressed against the glass, Eyes glowing with an other-worldly hunger.

I screamed and it vanished, but I knew it would be back. Journal entry, December 31st, 1999. Tonight there's an electricity in the air, as if something monumental is about to happen. The wind carries strange whispers, and I hear the faintest, most unsettling sound of whistling. They say the new millennium will bring change, but I fear it's bringing something else. Something ancient, something hungry. As midnight approaches, the feeling of dread goes stronger. The shadows seem to move on their own, and I swear I saw a pair of glowing eyes staring at me from the edge of the forest.

I can't shake the feeling that the past is catching up with me. And whatever it is, it's coming for me. As the clock struck midnight, the house was plunged into darkness. The wind howled and the walls groaned as if under immense pressure. I heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, moving through the house. The air grew colder, and I could see my breath in the dim light. The whispers grew louder, more incessant, and the shadows seemed to writhe and twist. I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see a face, pale and gaunt, with eyes that glowed like coals.

It whispered my name, and I felt my blood run cold. And that was the end of the entries. As I closed the last journal, a faint whistle drifts through the air, sending a chill down my spine. My hands tremble as I lock the doors and draw the curtains. The tales of Ingmington aren't just stories. There are a legacy of fear and darkness passed down through the generations. I realize now that by reading these journals, I've awakened something that should have remained buried.

For the longest time I believed in this, but only since reading the journals have these instances started happening firsthand to me. The nights are long and sleepless. I hear that haunting whistle every night. growing closer with each passing hour. Shadows dance just beyond the tree line, and the air is thick with the weight of untold secrets. I know I have to leave this place, but deep down, I fear that some things you can't run from. The past has a way of catching up, especially in aiming content. I love this family home, but I'm afraid I can't stay here much longer.

I have a friend who left the Navajo Reservation a few years ago. This is what he learned while living there, part one. I'm going to perface this by explaining that this story is not mine. I'm just the one who wrote it all down. I'm not dying, the actual name of the Navajo, and this is how I will refer to them from here on out. Never lived on a reservation, and I know very little about their folklore. I actually was a skeptic in all things paranormal for a very long time

until something happened to me a few years ago that made a believer out of me. Nothing to do with Skinwalkers or things of that nature, but it definitely made me at least believe in ghosts. I will also be releasing this parts for easier reading. It's a long one. This story was told to me by my dying friend Sam, name changed for his privacy, and comes from its own experience. I met Sam on a photography gig a few years ago after graduating art school and we connected through our shared interest in a paranormal. We had told us. swap stories about our personal paranormal experiences. Well, I only have one experience, so it wasn't nearly as reciprocal. And what I'm about to tell you is probably the most memorable of his.

All names have been changed at Sam's request for privacy and amusing an all to count. Sam also gave me permission to write this and fully cooperated with me as I put this together. According to him, he's too lazy and I have too much time on my hands, as he was cool with me putting this together. Sam is full-blooded dying. His mother and father grew up in the nation near New Mexico. They had Sam out of wedlock at a very young age and broke up a few years after he was born. His mother moved to Illinois with his new stepfather, who was white and Catholic. Sam grew up in a Chicago suburb and lived there most of his childhood in teenage years. He would visit his dad for a couple weeks a few times a year, but never really spent a prolonged amount of time out on the

reservation. It was at 20 that Sam moved in with his dad on the res to get a better understanding of my heritage, as he said it, and stayed there till he was about 24. He was very interested in his dying heritage, especially when he started developing his art practice as a painter and photographer. As he spent more and more time on the res, he grew a deep interest in Dean's superstition, I guess as a way to connect his culture that he felt he didn't do enough to be as a part of his childhood in teenage years, since he essentially assimilated into Midwestern, suburban, white culture due to his mother and stepdad. While on the res, he made friends with, and eventually dated a girl, whom we'll call Jess, who had fully grown up on the res. She was a little older than Sam and got

her teaching degree in another state before coming back to the res to teach high school. She was basically agnostic. More on that in a bit. But had a very superstitious family. In fact, her great uncle, whom we'll call John, was a medicine man. I'm not super familiar with the detail surrounding this practice, and Sam didn't go into a ton of detail in regards to this either. Basically, he was a very respected elder and was extremely superstitious. He often spoke on dying folklore, creatures, magic, etc., and took it all very seriously. John was pretty old and often needed help around his property, so Sam was often over there helping him out with odd jobs. Sam felt weird taking money from the old man, especially since Sam already had a part-time job as an art

teacher and sold his paintings and photos in Santa Fe art markets for pretty good money. So as payment, Sam would ask John to share some of his knowledge with him. It was Sam's way of connecting to his heritage, he told me. They talked for an hour or two every night that Sam came over to help. Sam would basically grill him on every random. Dean-related thing under the sun and would generally get an earful about it, except when it came to one specific topic. Ye, Nalushi. Sam, having spent most of his childhood with his mom and stepdad off the res, didn't have the same outlook on Skinwalkers that other Dean did. The whole don't speak of them. The thing wasn't something he subscribed to, mainly because, A, Sam grew up in the Chicago area where no Skinwalkers would be around anyway, and B,

he was raised Catholic and didn't believe in Dean's superstitions. He was pretty interested in this part of Dean Lour because of how common skinwalkers were in creepy pasta on boards like X and, of course, Reddit. So naturally, his interest in them disturbed John, and he generally shut down any discussions of them. When he brought this up to Jess, she got visibly upset and asked him to never speak of them to her or her great uncle again. This was weird to Sam, since Jess wasn't superstitious, or even religious for that matter. He thought his agnostic girlfriend would it be weird about these things? She explained to Sam that, despite her general agnosticism, that was one thing she knew was real, because she and other members of her family had experiences.

She told him a very similar story to the types you'll see posted online, late at night on the res, driving home, and seeing what you think is a coyote or a sheep following you at an alarm in speed, only to, upon closer inspection, see what appears to be a human underneath animal's skin, or a half-man, half-coyote kind of creature. This happened to Jess when she was a little girl, while being driven home by her father. Great Uncle John came and performed some kind of protection slash cleansing ritual that they protected them, at least for a few years. It wasn't until Jess moved back after getting her degree did she encounter one again,

this time running along the rooftops of some homes and buildings in town. She thought somehow someone's dog got up on the roof, but it would then get on two legs and jump to the next building. After landing, it would perch up there, sitting cross-legged, staring, her down with yellow eyes. She sped home so fast she got pulled over by the tribal police, when she explained what she saw and why she was speeding, the officer's shuster, tore up the ticket he was riding, and told her to get her ass home.

Uncle John came by again and performed a ritual. Jess said that according to John, though, the creature wasn't after her, who was caught in the act of stalking someone else. That made it set its eyes upon her, so she was to be extra cautious, and her words, shut the fuck up about them forever.

She only told Sam all of this to keep the things off her and her family, but wouldn't you know it? That just made him more interested. And who could blame him, really? It seemed as though Sam kind of whittled down John's resolve on the issue because eventually the old man budged a little bit. He revealed to Sam a few bits and pieces of information over the years. I'm just going to copy and paste from some Instagram DMs he sent me while I put this whole story together. note that the only changes I have made to this message were the names of those involved.

Also, in case it isn't obvious, Sam abbreviates Skinwalker to S.W. The first thing John told me about Skinwalkers was that they can't actually read minds like they say in the stories and stuff. It was basically that you'd call an old wives tale because they didn't want their kids talking about that shit and spreading the idea that this was something people could do. I think they wanted the practice of being Skinwalker to die out completely. So they thought of forbidding people from talking about it, nobody would be curious enough to try it in black magic and shit. I think because Dean are so steeped in oral traditions that they basically believe that if enough people stop talking about a thing,

it dies forever. But you know you can't tell people not to talk about something, L.O.L. So they said that if you talk about Skinwalkers, it will make them interested in you, and seek you out. It was just them trying to scare kids. The other thing is that they were just regular people, not monsters. They don't have any special powers. Just knew a lot about certain things that a lot of us don't.

Like how there are things you know how to do as a video guy. Authors note, I'm a videographer by trade, that regular people who've never done it don't. Like when you show them a really cool edit you did or shots he pulled off and they were like, whoa, how did you do that? Same kind of stuff. They just spent a lot of time learning about stuff that makes them able to do what they do. They studied animals and how they move, making suits, studied poisons, hallucinogens, shit like that. They're medicine men, just like John. In fact, a lot of them are openly good medicine man in the community, and nobody knows they practice this stuff.

It's just another form of their medicine men stuff, but they use it for people who want to harm or scare others. Like they could get hired to fuck with people. John told me this one story about a close friend who was also a medicine man in the Tubba City area that had an asshole in the neighborhood who kept bitching about his property lines or something like that. He was building a fence and there was a big fuss about it. The guy harassed this shit out of his neighbor next door because of it, but the neighbor knew where his land started and ended, and so he didn't budge. Eventually some weird shit started to go down.

The asshole's neighbor was talking about how there was a gigantic coyote in his backyard that would look in the windows at night and scare the shit out of him and his girlfriend. He would hang it in his backyard with a shotgun around sundown, which of course weirded everyone out in the neighborhood, and a lot of folks were saying that he was mentally unstable. But then people in the neighborhood started hearing fucked up noises. And someone saw the coyote stand on its hind legs and look in the windows. Then one day, the guy's girlfriend drove him to the emergency room

because he was having a really bad trip apparently, like hallucinating and talking about this coyote man who's threatening to kill him. John doesn't know what he was on, if it was like Pioti or something. He came down a few hours later, and a lot of people in town laughed it off, but John's friend and a few other people in the neighborhood, like I assume the ones who actually saw the coyote man, knew that it was probably a Skinwalker fucking with them. John said that the Skinwalker knows a lot about hallucinogens,

how to get the results they want from them, and how to administer them to their victims without them knowing. Like they know so much about the compounds and shit, that they know exactly how it will affect you and how to fuck with you when you're on them. So John's friend came by to bless the place and perform a ritual, and the weird shit stopped, because Skinwalkers are medicine men themselves,

they also believe in the power of the rituals that are used against them. That's how I would say these things work. Nothing super magical or paranormal about it. They just have strong beliefs and know not to fuck with certain shit. Anywho, so he thinks that the asshole neighbor sized a skinwalker on him to get him to move out of town or something like that. The last thing John told me for a really long time was about how skinwalkers were actually good guys at one time.

They created the whole practice to fuck with the colonizers. They protected other dean and scared away white people trying to take land and assault people and stuff. But some started using their practice on their own gain and once their treaties were signed, we got land back and all that. They just started exclusively using it to do bad stuff to other dying. After this, John basically put a kibosh on Skinwalker Talk. Sam told me he thought it was weird that John didn't want to talk about them. After all, John said it himself that Skinwalkers can't read minds and talking about them didn't draw their attention to you.

as Sam said, it's an old wives tale. He even told this to suggest, but she shot him down. She actually kind of insulted him apparently, telling Sam that he's not culturally a dine, so he wouldn't understand, and him trying to get this deep into Skinwalker stuff was offensive, their heritage. Basically, he was culturally a white boy and should shut the fuck up. Now, I know some reactionary types on the internet would probably take offense to this, but it's not unfounded.

How would you like it if some cultural outsider came into your town and started grilling you about your long-held beliefs while directly contradicting them. And that's part one. We'll be posting two shortly. Hopefully tomorrow. That part will begin to cover some more elements of Skinwalker lore that I thought was a lot more interesting than what John initially lit on. Part two.

I realized that the last post presented a grounded, realistic idea of the Skinwalker, but this is where we start getting into some real supernatural shit. And because of that, I do want to perface everything I say here, with the disclaimer that what I'm about to tell you, I cannot verify. I'm not Dean, and I know very few folks who are native, much less culturally native. I don't live anywhere near the four corners either. This is all from the recollection of one Dean friend of mine who is retelling stories and information given to him by a much older man. Believe what you can or take everything with a grain of salt. At any rate, I hope it's a fun read. It's been much longer this time around.

Sorry in advance with the length. After learning the truth, about Skinwalkers and being scolded by his girlfriend, Sam took the hint and for a while focused his time spent with John on things the old man actually wanted to talk about. Sam learned a lot about his culture and the practice of medicine men and worked on this gorgeous four by five portrait series of elderly folks on the res. Sam told me that it was around this time that I realized he was pretty callous in the way he approached the Skinwalker subject. He was just a dumb kid raised in white America who thought he was being curious about his native culture when really he was spending more time chasing spooky stories than actually learning about

his people. By this point, Sam had been living on the res for about four or so years. He even got a full-time teaching job at one of the reservation schools. He moved out of his dad's place and got his own. Sam always had planned to move back to Illinois or to some bigger city with more of an art scene, but wanted to spend more time on the res, at least another five years. Despite that desire to stay in his new job, he and Jess ended up moving to my city only a few months into his full-time position. And that's around the time I met him. His usual response to why they both left was that he needed to be somewhere with a bigger art scene in a community. And Jess wanted to go back to school to get a MSW, but it wasn't until I got to know him responsibly well.

And we started bonding over our shared interest in the paranormal. Did he actually tell me why they left? From our DMs. John was getting up there in age, late 80s. Dude lived a long life, had some cancer. cancer in his 60s and beat it, but he would tell me that he always wondered when it would come back to take him. I think it was like in 2014 or something. Author's note, same move to the res in 2010 met John a few months after that. He was diagnosed with lung cancer that metacized to his liver,

pancreas and colon. He was given only a few months to a year to live. Fucking suck to hear because we're basically bros by this point. For being as old as he was, he was really sharp. Must have been the medicine and shit that staved off senality, lull. After the diagnosis, Jess, her father, and Sam spent a lot more time with the old man helping him out around the house. He was by this point bedridden, and I had refused to be put in hospice care as he thought it was a waste of his family's money for, as Sam put it, a mildly more comfortable death. A few months in, Sam received a call from John, asking him to come over that evening. He told me that he had some stuff he wanted to tell me that he didn't want to die with him. I assumed he felt like he was on his way out based on that.

I packed my T2I in case he was cool with me recording him. When Sam arrived, John was sitting on his porch, watching the sunset. He beckoned Sam to sit next to him and told him he had some last bits of knowledge to share. When Sam mentioned that he had brought his camera with him, John allowed him to film, with his only request being that he wouldn't show it to anyone, that he would stop recording when asked. We spent like an hour or so just talking about whatever came to his mind. It was a lot of stuff I've told you before,

stuff like parts of the res that are cursed, portals to other dimensions, and then stuff like how to bless your home, what plants do what, how to find your way home if you're lost in the desert, also some songs and prayers that I had to have on tape because it was in his language and I'm trash at it. It was like he was trying to cover everything he felt like he hadn't told me before. He basically said, I'd be his closest thing to an informal prentance, so he never actually passed on his knowledge to one before. He said it was keeping some knowledge for himself, still, but wanted to share what he felt comfy with. It was here that I asked Sam why John would tell his great niece's boyfriend from Chicago all of this,

if it's supposed to dine secrets and stuff. I don't know, man. It's a little different than that. Like, I did a lot for him, renovated his home, built him a porch, even helped him get internet and gave him my old MacBook and showed him how to use it. I gave him my old Wi-Fi and he became fucking obsessed with Wii Sports. Sure, he felt like he owed me because of everything I helped him with and refused to take a cent. I get why it seems weird, but also I feel like he didn't have anyone interested enough to just sit down and hear him talk for hours on end so appreciated me for that or something.

Or maybe he was actually senile or just fucking with me, LOL, but I doubt it. He was pretty sharp in his old age and also was a genuine guy. After the sun went down, John requested that they turn off the camera and go inside. Once inside, he asked Sam to turn on the TV and raise the volume. He explained that it was important that no one he would. hear their conversation. According to Sam, the old man didn't have any neighbors for miles, so he found that a little odd, at least, until he learned what their conversation was about. I haven't been honest with you about the Enadaluci, he said. He then requested that Sam burned some

plants slash herbs slash mixture of some sorts that he had put on top of the logs in his fireplace. This was so, according to John, no one in this world or the other could hear them. It seems, and this is just Sam's read of the situation that John thought by rioting Skinwalkers off as such assholes who dress in animal skins and drug people with peyote or shrooms to fuck with them, Sam's words, he would discourage the young man from ever looking any further into the legends. And while that was definitively true, there were Skinwalkers who had no powers, no connection with the supernatural, and were just Dean Occult Fanatics who played dress-up. That was only part of the story.

Ye Natalushie exists in two varieties. The first, John had already explained to Sam, medicine men with no actual supernatural powers, just a very extensive knowledge of various hallucinetic compounds, able to craft very convincing outfits of animal pelts, and can move and behave very similarly to whatever animal they wish to mimic. These folks were accessible to the general population of the res. When I say accessible, of course, I don't mean just anyone can seek them out. It takes someone well connected, as well as depraved enough.

to want to seek them out to bother or even harm others. These Skinwalkers would often receive monetary compensation for their deeds, like the hypotheses in John's Tubes City story. They based this entire practice on the legends of shapeshifters in Dark Witches in Dean folklore. This explains a good portion of Skinwalker stories and lore you see posted online. Large coyotes or sheep behaving oddly. Only two upon closer inspection reveal that, that they are a person wearing skin animals.

But what about the other stories? The other stories of these beings, half men, half beast, pulling off unnatural feats around the res, running alongside cars at top speeds, mimicking voices, reading and even controlling minds, immune to firearms,

shapeshifting into incredibly convincing, terrifying, gigantic wolf-like creatures, glowing red or yellow eyes, and faces that are neither human nor animal. Well, you guessed it. Those are the real, ye, not a lusci, powerful dark witches who have terrorized the dean and sometimes others for centuries. John theorized that Skinwalkers developed some time around the time when the first that it was arrived. Medicine men and the tribes were incredibly wary of these visitors, and as time went on, they revealed themselves to be conquerors. The medicine

men, as Sam put it, turned to the dark side in order to scare them off and terrorize them. Medicine men back then knew that by turning to the practice of black magic, there wasn't really any turning back. Black magic robes them of humanity and corrupts their souls. But they believed that they could do this for the good of their people. And then, once the colonizers were driven out, be dealt with by their own people. In fact, some medicine men revealed their plans for this to other members of their practice who opted not to participate in the rituals. They gave them detailed instructions on how to protect themselves and even kill them when necessary. Unfortunately, we know how this turned out, and now we have this uniquely dying problem of

the Skinwalkers. And unlike the other Skinwalkers, the pretenders in animal fur, these Ye Not Alushi are not human, or at least not in a sense that is recognized by the Dean. In order to become one of these things, they must participate in a ceremony that essentially robs them of their humanity, and after a long enough time living as one of them, they barely even resemble a human in appearance. Think of the Wendigo, or Algon origin. A creature that was once human, but through some horrific twisted process or ritual, became something else entirely. The practice of being a skinwalker is jealously guarded, even more so than that of the pretenders.

It requires committing heinous acts, murder, and or torture of a family member or friend, ingesting poisons and human flesh, and communicating with entities from other dimensions. Skimwalkers are also a people unto themselves, an isolated subculture of the dean that branched off a long time ago. Although they make their home in the same region as the dean, they generally do not live among them, fraternized with them, or trade with them. They are a completely separate community, and some would say completely separate species as well. John did not go into great detail of the process of becoming a Skynwalker. He said no man who calls himself dying would ever know such things. That might have been true a century ago when Skinwalker still lived amongst the people,

but in this day and age, the Skinwalker is much too concerned with being found out, and so they isolated themselves and brought all knowledge with them. Think of those tribes that are still being discovered in the jungles of Africa and South America, completely cut off from the rest of the world. Only this tribe is well aware of the rest of the society and chooses to isolate. That all being said, of course, they still do go out amongst the people. It's just usually at night, amongst a small group of folks, and only for their own dark purposes. Exactly what Skinwalkers gain from their behavior towards the dean and occasional tourists is disputed amongst medicine man, John says. John's understanding was that, aside from stealing livestock, their abilities feed off of the fear they instill

in others. Murder also strengthens their connection to whatever dark entities they commune with, but a death directly at the hands of a skinwalker is exceedingly rare. John then went to say how a lot of things that are sometimes attributed to deaths of despair, such as S-word, overdose, alcohol, poisoning, etc., could be traced to very powerful skinwalkers. It said that a basic trait of of the Skinwalker is being able to instill fear in their victims, like a weak form of mind control. More powerful skinwalkers can actually cause folks to harm themselves. John wasn't sure, however, if the mind control rumors were true. Corpse Powder, the fabled favorite weapon of the Skinwalker, blown onto their victim's face, could actually be how they make these things happen.

While some say corpse powder is a powerful poison that slowly kills over the course of a few days, leaving no trace of itself in one system. Others insist it's a drug that makes the victim highly suggestible. I've heard of things like this before criminals in some parts of South America use something similar to make their marks essentially empty their bank's accounts for them. John believes in both explanations it is sometimes a cocktail of poison and human bone, and sometimes it's a drug that makes one highly suggestible. And the Skinwalker uses this to instruct the victim to harm or k themselves somehow. Direct contact with their victims is too risky, both for the individual Skinwalker as well as their clan, and is likely frowned upon.

When a Skinwalker does physically kill someone, the person either disappears or has their corpse found much later with their death ruled as an animal attack. John says that this is a more common amongst weaker skinwalkers. One detail that stood out to Sam was the idea that Skinwalkers communicate with entities from another dimension. And he pressed John on this a bit more. In Sam's words. He knew I was raised Catholic, so he explained them to me as basically being demons,

although the dean have their own name for them. Don't remember what it was, but even if I did, I probably couldn't spell it at well. There are evil hidden human spirits that try and come into our realm, are dimensions or plain or whatever, but don't exactly have a physical presence, so they possess people. Or in the case of Skinwalker,

they use them as their connection to this world. So some skinwalkers do the bidding of demons, and in return the demons give them powers. But John also said that some really old skinwalkers aren't even people anymore. They're living corpses. But demons live inside them. Guess the idea is that demons give them powers in exchange for letting the demon discreet their corpse

by using it as their flesh puppet after they die. According to John, they communicated with these beings through their knowledge of the portal system in the American Southwest. This included places that are off the reservation, although Skimwalkers were wary about going off the res, as it can be more densely populated and carries with it a risk of being discovered. The few times they do, they are good at keeping a low profile, being actual shapeshifters and all.

But due to their nature, they can't resist feeding off the fear of others. So small groups of campers and people driving alone at night, the res have stories as well. Sometimes lone visitors outside the reservation, but near a portal, who are off camping, hiking, what have you, will straight up disappear under weird circumstances. This may be a stretch, but this instantly reminded me of David Paldives missing 411 research. I highly doubt Skinwalkers are to blame for the majority of these mysterious disappearances. They're spread out all around the U.S., and Skinwalkers do not venture very far outside Dean Land. But if what John is saying is true, a few of them could have possibly fallen.

pray to one. These portals often exist in caves in small canyons and require a lengthy ritual full of incanations, offerings, dances, and a sacrifice to open. But the sacrifice is John isn't sure, but a hypothesis that some of the disappearing hikers may have something to do with it. When the portals open, they are used for a variety of things, communication with spirits and demons, gaining more power, summoning entities into our world, or even throwing themselves, or others into the portals and leaving our world. Sam asked why they would go into the portals and what existed beyond them. It was another dimension that allowed them to observe our world but not interact with it,

as well as see things and beings that we couldn't in our plane. He said that they would interact in that dimension with beings called shindies, which are the evil spirits of the deceased, said to be manifestation of everything that was bad about a person. They would send shindies out to not only harm others and spread illnesses, but also report on which people were growing wise to the skinwalkers. This was where the belief that skinwalkers are not to be discussed comes from. Chindy's could listen in on your conversations and report back to the skinwalkers who commune with them.

And then using portals, show them where the offending individual lived. It was very important to the skinwalkers that much of the general populace knew precious little about them, their culture, their practices, and most importantly, their identity. Nowadays, of course, because Skinwalkers isolate protecting their identities was not as crucial as anyone who saw their original forms would never be able to recognize them, as they were not members of the community. But John noted that there were select Skinwalkers who would live alongside the communities, and sometimes in them, as a way of feeding off another's energies without directing, frightening, or stalking them. He told me a little story about this group of folks who lived near a weird old witch.

This was back in the 1980s, I think. She would come into a town but never buy anything from the stores or the markets or anything like that. Just walk around, stare at people. One day, a guy and his wife went into one of the cities off the rest of the weekend. And while at a restaurant, saw her looking through the window at them. I actually painted my interpretation of this a while back. It's the one I showed at Gallery Name Redacted when they first opened. So they were wondering how the fuck she got out there and it scared the shit out of them.

Like she just lived in a Hogan and didn't even have a car. She ended up disappearing. And that night, the wife had a dream that the old lady had gotten down on all fours and turned into a fucked up-looking coyote. On their way back to the res the next evening, they saw what they thought was a wounded coyote on the side of the road. The husband was going to get out to see what was up, but the wife made him stop.

The coyote was looking straight at her with the same stare that she saw in the old woman's eyes. It left up on its hind legs and ran on. The next day, the wife told everyone she could that the old lady was a skinwalker. Rumor has it that the old witch got sick and died the next day. Note, the rumor has it. Many people believe that learning and telling others of a skinwalker's identity can spell disaster for them. And it's one of the few ways an average person can kill them. However, this is only partially true.

It weakens the skinwalker by not only robbing them of their prey, They can't feed out the fear of people who know them as just a frail old lady, but doesn't kill them. What does kill them, however? Other Skinwalkers. According to John, the woman did not die of a random sudden illness. She simply left town, he believes, to go back to her local Skinwalker community. However, the next day she was found, not far from her Hogan, mauled by a pack of animals. Wolf bites, bear claw marks, and even evidence of being trampled by a horse were found

on her corpse. When the authorities found the body, a local medicine man, whom John knew, instructed the police to say that she died of an illness. He wanted people to remain unaware that a community of Skimwalkers was in their midst. So no curious, stupid folks would go looking for them. And that's part two. We'll post three tomorrow. The third part will go into detail on why Sam left, the reservation. Part three. Final. So if Skiske, Skimwalkers are, save for a select few, an isolated group, how do they add more to their ranks? They used to be easier to join. Like if you were a medicine man and knew how to find them and had completed the first ritual on your own,

they'd let you go through the rituals and train you. You have to complete the first ritual before even looking for the skimwalkers, so they know you've reached a point of no return. John said he didn't actually know the order of the rituals, but he assumed it was the part where you kill a close friend or family member, so you couldn't really go back to regular society, and you robbed yourself of your humanity too. It's how they know you're for real.

Otherwise, they just kill you on the spot, L.O.L. John told Sam he had no idea how modern Skinwalkers recruited. The most likely scenario would probably be kidnapping someone very young and grooming them to murder the family they were taken from, or choosing to share their knowledge with people that the Shindy's scouted out as a kindred spirit and potential addition to their ranks. It should be noted that, according to John, pretenders almost never became real skinwalkers. No info on why.

Sam and I guess that they probably want pretenders to do their thing and continue to exist to throw folks off of their trail. Finally, John had one last piece of information to share. Yes, these skimwalkers actually did transform into animals, and it was often to varying degrees of success. The more skilled skinwalkers could mimic an animal perfectly to the point where you wouldn't be able to pick them out amongst a pack or a herd, but the problem is a regular old coyote or sheep isn't scary if it looks and behaves exactly as it should. So the skinwalkers purposely transform into imperfect or unnatural creatures, things such as larger size, weird proportions, even human features mixed in. One story that stood out to me in regards to the way Skinwalkers present,

mainly because it had to do with the infamous Skinwalker Ranch, my personal least favorite Skinwalker story because it sounds so ridiculous and is barely even about actual Skinwalkers is as follows. Okay, so first off, let me say, I think Skinwalker Ranch is mostly bullshit. John's heard the stories and says it's white people crap, L.L. People say it's land cursed by Dean because the Ute stole it from us, and they think we psyched a skimwalker on it. But we know that's not possible because they exist separate to the dean

and we can't summon them. And there was a skimwalker on that property. Several, probably. A tribe of skim walkers that just refused to leave, so the youth said it was a Dean curse. But most of the crazy UFO shit just doesn't track with me or John. Maybe son of it, because Dean have seen shit, but I don't know.

A lot of it sounds buck. But anyways, the reason I bring up Skinwalker Ranch is because one of the stories from the white people who lived there was that they saw the big-ass wolf, like bigger than any wolf in existence, size of a horse maybe. This was actually true, I'm sure of it at least. They probably added the U.F stuff later for fun because just saying you saw a big wolf isn't a crazy enough story. But yeah, this wolf is an example of how they'll become a real animal, but they'll add some detail that doesn't add up or doesn't look right, it makes it ten times scarier. And sometimes the transformations are. aren't perfect anyway, and they keep it that way instead of trying to perfect it.

There was this other story I heard on X, most likely, about a guy who saw a giant Doberman-looking thing with yellow eyes but looked like it had bits of flesh hanging off, like a zombie dog. I don't know how true story is, but it does point out this trait. What happens when a skinwalker absorbs the skin of the animal they kill, but it's not a perfect specimen, where the skin has started to decompose before they absorb it, but it looks scary as fuck, so they don't mind. I'll bet some of them even wait for the flesh to rot before it's absorbed. What Sam is talking about here is how they transform. Basically, they can only transform into animals they kill themselves. They must skin the animal and cover themselves in the pelt,

often while it is still warm and bloody. After a certain period of time, the animal skin will be absorbed by the Skinwalker. Not only will they gain the ability to transform into the animal it will, but some of the beast features will begin to show in the squandwalkers human form. This is how many older skin walkers, as they age, begin to gradually lose certain human features, only to be replaced with more animalistic ones. They human skin ages, even decays, while their animal skin does not. Remaining in the same state, it was upon absorption. This is where the stench of decay that many associate with skinwalkers comes from.

It's the human being rotting. John began noticing that the fire was dying down and it was getting late. He told Sam that he is not to speak a word of what he was told while on the reservation. The only way in which their speech was protected from the prying chindies was the mixture in the fireplace. And the myriad of blessings John had performed earlier in the day. The loud television was there just in case anyone, human or Skinwalker, was in the area and felt a desire to eavesdrop. He gave Sam a small wooden box filled with the same mix. sure he threw on the fire as well as a few other various things that John said would offer protection.

He told Sam not to take his possession of these things as some sort of free ticket to talk freely about skimwalkers. However, he said something about how he had many decades of experience in these matters and felt safe. Plus, he was going to die soon, so if a skimwalker took him out of his misery, so be it. Sam didn't have that luck, so he needed to err on the the side of caution. Off the res, he was free to blab all he wanted about the shapeshifters because, as Sam said, who the fuck would believe me anyways? The next day, as Sam was getting ready to pack up and leave school, he received a call from John. Shouldn't have told you that stuff, he said, and then told him not to come by the property for a few days. He assured Sam that he had everything

taken care of and was safe, but wanted to be sure. He hung up before Sam could even get a word in. He let Jess know her great-uncle had said over the phone, and naturally, Jess had to know what it was John told him about. Sam reluctantly told her point blank that John had voluntarily given him more info on the Skin Walkers. He did not go into any level of detail on what it was John said, out of respect for the old man's wishes. Jess, according to Sam, went pale. It's so weird seeing your partner, who you know is a big skeptic, gets spooked by something like this, but I guess it all tracks. Ray's Dean, hearing these stories and stuff.

Also, just because you're agnostic doesn't mean you don't have some belief in the paranormal. She told me that John probably attracted someone's attention by talking about that shit, but that we have to trust that he knows what he's doing. Then she told me, I can't speak a word of what I heard, and I am never able to ask or even allow John to tell me. me anything more. She said something like words have power. You're not culturally deemed so you wouldn't get that. She laid into me a bit after that. I was kind of insulted, but in retrospect, she was totally right. Hurts to hear, but I think we all got to take a step back. But Jess alarmed as she was, put her trust in John and told Sam that they weren't to contact her or visit his property until he

said everything was okay. But that day never came. Two nights later, Sam and Jess were awoken by a phone call from Jess's father. John was in the hospital, his health rapidly taking a turn for the worst. The two rushed to the hospital, but John had passed away of a heart attack before they got there. For a while after John's passing, Sam, Jess, and their families lived a pretty uneventful life. Sam thinks it was a period of about three to four months of relative calm. Jess had started looking into getting an MSW out of state, and Sam was grappling with the decision of whether or not he wanted to stay on the res or follow Jess wherever she would go. I asked Sam if there was any tension between him and Jess due to everything that happened,

but he said that both sort of dropped the entire argument about Sam messing with Skinwalker knowledge. He does not think that Jess attributes what happened to John as a result of bringing Skinwalker attention onto them. After these three to four months of calm were up, strange things began occurring to Jess's family members. Her father, mother, and younger brother, all complained of a group of coyotes that ran around their property, keeping them up several nights a week with their noises and scratching on the side of the house. Her father had taken to standing on the porch with a shotgun some nights, but never saw anything. Her cousin complained about missing livestock.

They would completely disappear, but every once in a while a mutilated corpse of a cow would be found a few yards from the property. Sometimes it was a cow who had gone missing days earlier and looked only freshly slaughtered. Then one night, Sam was staying over at Jess's house. While they were having dinner, Sam noticed that it had gotten oddly quiet outside. He told me that it was a particularly windy evening, but suddenly no howling of the wind could be heard. That's when he heard something tapping on the window.

Jess pointed at the window behind Sam. When he turned around to look, he caught a glimpse of a figure for only a split second before it vanished. But he could hear it walking away from the window, as the thing was very close. close to the house. The two were frozen in fear for a few seconds. Before the howling of the wind returned, they drew the blinds. Sam said they barely slept that night. Jess told him that she saw a large wolf with glowing yellow eyes looking into their window. She says that it had a weird anthropomorphic vibe, and then it was smiling, like how a man smiles. There was a row of yellow

teeth that looked oddly like human teeth. Jess found herself in the coming days triggered by this. She told Sam it reminded her all too well of the two beans she saw all of those years ago. They had someone come by the property to bless it, and that was that for everything that transpired at just his home. A few weeks later after the incident, Sam was awoken by a series of howls. The howls, he said, started far away, but were loud enough to jolt him awake. They grew in volume as they grew closer. Sam estimates they were about a minute or so in between, each howl getting close. From far away, they sounded like your typical wolf or dog howl, but as they got closer,

they sounded more bizarre, as he said it. It's really hard to say exactly why these noises were so frightening. I don't know, bizarre. Like I was shivering in fear. I've never felt that way. Wave after wave after wave of chills, dude. My eyes were watering. I felt like I was having a panic episode.

They didn't sound like any animals I knew. It started like a wolf howl, but then made weird gurgling noises that went on for a few more seconds after. The howls were really loud at the front end, violent, like they were a warning. Suddenly, Sam heard a howl from inside his own home. He tells me he grabbed this pistol from his closet, nearly shot myself fumbling with it, and burst through his bedroom door, only to see an empty house, with the front and back doors wide open, swaying in the wind. Looking out the back door, he saw two wolves running away in the moonlight, but their gate was off, as though they had the wrong set of hind legs. The next day, Sam dialed the medicine man who blessed just his place. He was an old friend of

Johns. When he came by, he first listened to Sam's story and then inspected the home. The medicine man, in a sort of roundabout way, told him it was indeed a ye, not a luci, that he had caught the attention of something very old, very powerful, and very evil. In fact, the medicine man had never heard of any being of the sort actually entering another person's dwellings. That fact alone terrified the man, enough to where he said. He was just like, I don't know what my blessing will do. Best case scenario, it'll keep it off your property. It won't keep it off you. Worst case scenario, it'll make it mad. I thought shit well it was worth it just to try for the possibility of it working, I guess. How fucked is this? Sam also showed

the man the box of items that John had given him to see if that held any significance. The man frowned, saying he didn't wish to speak ill of the dead, but John had made a small error in giving Sam what he thought were things that would protect him. The man went to his truck and came back with another item. I should note, Sam won't tell me what the items were. This is out of secrecy slash respect for certain dean traditions. He also says that he didn't even know what half of the stuff was. He told Sam to put that with the others, but that it was no guarantee. He said there was no one-size-fits-all solution to warding off dark witches. Witches, which, by the way, is how he refers to, skinwalkers, are very superstitious.

But some more than others, some of them have learned that certain practices don't do anything, so they just laugh those off while some others find that disrespectful. Finally, he performed the blessing. He told Sam that if things don't improve, he may need to seek help from someone else or multiple others, and then gave him the info of some other medicine man whom he trusted. He closed out by saying that John was probably the best person he knew to deal with these things, in spite of the slip-up with the items he gave Sam and lamented his passing. That night, Sam said he slept soundly, which continued for about a week.

Then one night Sam woke up to use the bathroom. He didn't switch on any lights, but noticed two very disconcerting things. For one, it was freezing. We live in the desert, but it's never been that cold at night that time. time of year. And I didn't have the AC on because I'm not a diva like you. And also it fucking reeked. His house smelled of rotting flesh. After relieving himself, he went back to bed and then had an incredibly vivid dream. Six tall, lanky, ashen-skinned men, and animal peltz, wearing skulls with bits of flesh still clinging to them. He remembers them clear as day.

Two appeared to be dressed as wolves, one as a sheep, one as a coyote, and another as a deer with broken antlers. They were standing around, all glaring out almost striking yellow eyes. They barely moved like living statues. They looked like people who hadn't eaten in weeks, almost zero body fat or muscle. And one of them did not look well. The deer man, I'm talking about gray skin, infections, oozing, almost like a zombie. It was disgusting. Sam woke up in a cold sweat. He told me that in the dream, he was just standing there as their eyes bore into him. He actually knew he was dreaming while it was happening. His first and so far only instance of lucid dreaming.

He told me of how desperately he wanted to wake up, but couldn't. When he left his room, he saw five sets of footprints in dirt. There were no footprints leading to where they actually were just five sets of footprints, as though something had just appeared and disappeared in one spot out of thin air. There were also six men in his dream, but he never found the other set of footprints, assuming that these prints belong to the men in his dream. When he told a medicine man about this, he was rightfully baffled and terrified. He told Sam to call the others and that he doubted the efficacy of their practices

in light of the information he just shared. He still offered a blessing, which Sam accepted. Sam did indeed make a few calls and told several other medicine men about what happened. They told him that something dark had set its eyes on him and that he was to be very cautious. He basically lives with Jess and told him. the semester ended, only going home to grab something every once and a while. Sam moved back to the Chicago area for a brief period before Jess started her first semester for her MSW in another city where he joined her. That's around the time we met on the gig while he was working as a freelance

photographer. Whether or not he left, exactly because of the encounters in the dream, he has not really said. I know he was looking to live in a city with a vibrant arts community, but I do think the encounters with a straw that broke the camel's back. Sam says that he is often hesitant to return to the res, but still goes every now and then to see his dad. I'm sure the skimwalkers miss him greatly. It fucking spoke to me. I'm not one to post these kind of things. I mostly just have Reddit to look at bugs and read about roommate drama, but I had an experience in the woods one night almost 10 years ago that got brought up recently, and thought I'd share it here.

I, female 16, snuck out of the house to go smoke weed in Lynn, Massachusetts, woods at about 3 a.m. It's not a huge sector of the woods, just a wee reservation smack dab in the middle of the Boston suburbs surrounding the local reservoir. I got to the entrance of the trail, parked my car, and made my way to the campsites,

about a five-minute walk, where there are fire pits available. It was a popular smoking area for teenagers, and I was one of them. I set up to draw by the fire and I made and began to roll a joint. As I was rolling, I had heard something on four legs come up from behind me. I didn't sweat it that much because where I'm from, the worst it could possibly be was probably a coyote. But then you can hear it transition into two legs and walk with a bipedal gaital gait.

That confused me. Then everything went fucking silent. No crickets, no birds, nothing. The only thing I could hear at that point was the cracking of the fire in my own breathing. Then I became really concerned like something bad was about to happen. I call out, thinking maybe it was just a homeless dude working up the courage to ask me for some food or some money, since it was the city after all. I say hello and ask if anyone's there.

Silence still, for about a minute. Everything's telling me to run, but I stay because I thought if it was an animal trying to hunt me, I should stand my ground and make myself appear. I'm not worth the risk. Then whatever it was, it talked. It sounded almost like a parrot mimicking its owner's voice. And it asked to bum a light. Can I bum a light?

It said. At first I'm relieved because at least I know it's not an animal, but the way it spoke was truly uncanny. I said, sure, but you have to come out where I can see you. You give me the creeps, dude. And then it asked again. And again. Three times.

Then I was really freaked and knew something was really wrong. I then told it to fuck off and find someone else to ask if he was going to be really creepy about it. Then it ran off on all fours. You could hear all four feet hitting the ground as it ran away. The crickets came back. The nightbird started to chirp again. The air even felt warmer. That feeling of dread washed over me and I knew I had to fucking book it.

I calmly pack all my stuff back up, put out the fire, and make my way back down the trail to my car. I wanted to run, but part of me still believed it was just a dude trying to get creepy with a 16-year-old girl in the woods by herself. And if I played it cool and acted like I wasn't scared, maybe he'd back off. My mother always taught me to make a scene in that scenario, and I was prepared to knife whatever came at me. I also thought maybe, if it was an animal, I wouldn't trigger its hunting instincts if I was just walked instead of ran.

But man, every hair on the back of my neck was standing up. That feeling of being watched is definitely real. I finally see my car about 200 feet ahead of me. I feel safe again, but I'm still on alert. I feel secure enough to look behind me, and I'm sure enough, maybe 40 feet behind me is a male deer on his hind legs in the middle of the trail. I fucking freak.

I've never heard of a skin walker, never believed in anything like them at the time, never even knew what they were, but I knew something about that image. It was seriously wrong, and I lost my composure and booked it to my car. I made it back no problem and drove off, before I could even turn my headlights on.

To this day, I'm 24 about to turn 25. I've never been back to those woods, or really any woods for that matter. I'm deathly afraid of nature now, which sucks. The very idea of spending a night in them makes me so anxious I feel nauseous. It wasn't until years later when I fell into a YouTube rabbit hole in college,

when you just pick one video suggested on your recommended page and let audio play to take you wherever, that I stumbled on a video that described Skinwalkers and alleged experiences people have had with them in the woods that I truly began to understand what I may have encountered that night. This shit is real. I don't know if they're as aggressive or dangerous as people make them out to be in their stories I've seen online because in my experience, it seemed pretty

curious and backed off when I confronted it, still thinking it was just a creepy dude looking to score. But to this day, thinking about it makes me shudder and I get put in my stomach. I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts on this. I'd love to have this debunked even. I love those woods and sort of wanted to just have been a weird dude, but I've heard some weird, very similar stories from the locals about those woods. And now I don't know what to think. And all right, guys, thank you so much for watching this video.

And to be honest, these were my three favorite skimwalker stories I've ever read. I know the second one was three parts in really, really long, but it was great. I think it kind of just uncovered what skimwalkers and some deep lore about them. I think that's kind of needed because a lot of Skimwalker stories are kind of rinse and repeat in the exact same. So that one was a very different one and I really loved it and I really hope you loved it too. And thank you so much for watching at the end of the video. It just means so much that you guys have been showing so much support. It's crazy.

And if you're still watching, please like and subscribe to the channel. Helms out a ton and it means the world. And yeah, thank you so much for watching. Consider watching another video of mine. They're all great. I'm sure you'll love them. And yeah, this was just. Snook and I'll see you next time.