Snook - 5+ Hours of Horrifying Skinwalker Stories

Episode Date: August 23, 2026

This is 5+ Hours of Horrifying Skinwalker Stories! This is a megacompilation of some of the most wild, disturbing and scary stories I have ever read... I hope you enjoy! And let me know if you would like to see more videos like this in the future! Thank you all for listening! Make sure you rate the podcast 5 stars and follow! Thank you all so much for listening! Make sure to subscribe to the Patreon for early access videos and many more perks! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.patreon.com/SnookYT⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Also! Go follow me on Spotify and Instagram! Yes, my voice is human. The channels subscriber goal is 1 million, so subscribe! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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When West Jeffers took flight in 1996, The vibes were a bit different. People thought denim on denim was peak fashion, inline skates were everywhere, and two out of three women rocked, the Rachel. While those things stayed in the 90s, one thing that hasn't is that fuzzy feeling you get when Westjet welcomes you on board.

Here's to Westjetting since 96. Travel back in time with us and actually travel with us at westjet.com slash 30 years. Appalachian Mountains. So I want to start off by saying that I am a very skeptical guy. I became an atheist when I was 17,

and when my belief in God dissipated, my belief in everything else supernatural went out the window as well. I also want to say that I've lived in Appalachia for all but four years of my life, and I'm almost 22. And I've never experienced any of the creepy things people say about the Appalachian Mountains until the story I'm about to tell you. So towards the end of last year, which was 2023, me and two of my friends had sort of simultaneous quarter-life crises. which eventually led us to getting rid of almost all of our belongings, quitting our jobs, leaving our apartments, and living out of our cars and door-dashing around the country. Well, on our first night, on our big trip,

we went to stay with a friend of one of my travelmates. She lived in Tennessee in the Appalachian Mountains, the Smoky Mountains, specifically, which, for those of you don't know, is like a subcategory of the Appalachians. She lived off a back road in the middle of the woods. The first night we were there, she had told us that there were strange occurrences on the property. The house was haunted, and there was something in the woods.

She had told us that whatever is in the woods likes to hang out around her shed. She said that one night she was walking up onto her porch when she got the overwhelming feeling of being watched. Becoming fed up with whatever it was, she screamed something along the lines of, go the fuck away into the woods. only for something to scream it right back at her. She claimed to have seen it one night from her kitchen window. She said it was peeking around the shed, stirring at her. It wasn't an animal, but it wasn't human either.

Out of curiosity, I asked her to describe whatever creature she saw in more detail, but she refused. I, being the skeptic that I am, basically disregarded everything she said and forgot about it. Now, because it was our first night on the trip, and it was so fun and new to us, we wanted to sleep in our cars, which were parked right in front of the shed I mentioned earlier. Yes, that shed. We hadn't yet made window covers, so we were sleeping in three SUVs with uncovered windows completely surrounding us. But I had no issue with this. I thought the worst I could happen would be that I'd wake up with a bear staring at me. So I went to beds peacefully and woke up in the middle of the night, really needing to pee.

I got half dressed, put on my shoes, left my car, walked to the edge of the woods, did my business, and got back in my car, and went to sleep. I had not a single care in the world. No uneasy feeling, no feeling of being watched, nothing. The next night, I once again wake up, really needing to pee. so just like I did the night before, I sat up in my bed, put on my pants, got my shoes ready, and reached for the door handle. But I couldn't do it. It was like every hair on my body stood on end, and I got this overwhelming feeling of dread and foreboding.

Now, I had a makeshift bed in the back of my SUV on top of all the back seats that I flipped down. So I'm sitting there in my bed, looking around through all of my uncovered windows. I can't see anything outside, except for some faint outlines of trees in the glints off of my travelmates' cars. I neither saw nor heard anything that should be putting me on edge. I reached for the door handle again, but I once again got that terrible feeling. I continued to look around, tried to reach for the door, and withdraw my hand. I finally gave up and said, screw it, and just peed in an empty water bottle. The next morning, I got up and was talking to my travelmates, and one of them mentioned waking up in the middle of the night out of nowhere and experiencing an overwhelming feeling of being watched.

She sat up in her makeshift bed and looked all around only to see nothing. I can't lie when she said that I got a bit of a knot in my stomach. I asked her what time it was when this happened, and she estimated that it was around the same time I woke up around three days. I then told both of them about my experience, and we were all a little freaked out about it. When we were headed out to our cars the following night, we noticed that all of the homeowners five-plus outdoor cats were all sitting on her front porch, which we hadn't seen the last two nights. Previously, they would all be scattered around the property, if they were even in sight. We thought it was weird, but we didn't think much of it. We all climbed into the house. We all climbed

her cars and set our good nights on our walkie-talkies. It was a pretty warm and muggy night for October, so we all had our battery-powered fans running. One of my friends frustratedly reported that her walkie-talkie was dying. Then my other friend reported that their fan had died. Then my walkie-talkie started dying. And it continued until, in the span of five minutes, all of our electronic camping gear, walkies, flashlights, and fans had all died. Finding this incredibly creepy, we all decided that we should just sleep in the house to be better safe than sorry. We were gathering up all our things to move inside when I began to hear what sounded like something large walking through the leaves in the woods. I kept stopping what I was doing

and looking toward my friend who were standing right by the woods. They seemed unbothered every time, so I just continued what I was doing. That was when I heard a louder noise coming from the woods and finally decided to walk over to my friends. Turns out, one of them was standing watched while the other ones gathered the rest of her things. Me and my friend stood there watching my other friends back, and it kept sounding like whatever was in the woods kept getting closer to us.

Soon enough, my friend had gathered all her things, and we calmly, but quickly, went into the house. From what I can remember, we slept in the house the following night as well, but the night after that, one of my friends borrowed some sage from the homeowner and saged all along the woodline and around our vehicles before we got ready for bed. We slept perfectly fine for that night and every night after. No more weird feelings, noises, nothing.

Of course, we were pretty much perpetually on edge from then on, but it was never quite the same feeling of dread and foreboding that I had felt before. To be honest, I don't know what to make of all of it. I know I didn't see anything, but the feeling I got was unlike anything I have ever experienced. That was the first and only time in my life where I've gotten that feeling, especially just out of nowhere. I've told the story a few times now, and I've had people tell me that it was just a bear, but I don't think a bear would give me that sort of instinctual feeling of danger when I can't even hear or see it. And I'm fully aware that I may be biased now, but I've lent it a bit more credibility.

to the homeowner stories after my experience. For those of you that are curious, no, we are not still on the trip. Unfortunately, the whole thing went downhill after a couple of months, and we are now integrating back into society. We are, however, all still friends, and no, we did not experience anything like this again, despite staying at several campgrounds in the middle of the woods in other parts of the southeast. I think I saw a Skinwalker. About two months ago, my husband, 34M, and I, 29F, were staying in a camper on my friend's property in northern Wisconsin.

One night I wasn't feeling very well, so I went and laid down in the camper and promptly fell asleep. A few hours later, around 3 a.m., I suddenly woke up and bolted out of the door and started projectile vomiting outside by the window. My husband called out and asked if I was okay. I managed to say, yeah, in between rounds. When I finally finished and felt like I was okay to go back and lay down, I spent a few more times to get rid of the taste and as I looked up, there was a face about three feet in front of me in the darkness. I stared at it, and it stared at me. I was petrified. I couldn't move. But I was also afraid to take my eyes off of it.

I slowly started to move my head up, down and side to side to try and get a better angle or a closer look, and as I did so, it began to mimic my movements. There we were, in the darkness of the forest, bobbing up, down, back, forth, slowly leaning closer and closer to one another as we try to figure each other out. I stared straight into its cold, hollow eyes. I couldn't look away in fear of what would happen if I did. It stared back at me. Almost as if it didn't know what I was either. It was too dark to make out any features, but the face had the shape of a human face, but what I could see on the body from behind the truck just looked hunched over and distorted. We stayed that way for what felt like forever,

until I finally managed to call out, babe? Yeah, my husband responded. There's something out here, I said, only slightly raising my voice. What, he asked? I don't know, some kind of animal. I'm not sure, but I'm afraid to move. It's just watching me, I whispered almost to myself. He opened the door of the camper and looked out into the darkness.

Where? He asked unable to see what I was seeing. It's right in front of me, just watch. I told him bewildered that he couldn't see it. He grabbed a flashlight and shined it in front of me and it was gone. There was nothing there. I never saw it leave. I kept its cold, dead gazed the whole time. How could it not be there? I'm still very confused by this interaction. I know it was there. I saw it wasn't a dream and I know I wasn't hallucinating. Can anybody tell me what they think it was? Edit. Just to respond to a few comments. I don't drink.

and I don't do drugs, so I was not inebriated. I don't remember all the details because I couldn't see very well, but here's what I got. I couldn't tell how tall it was because from what I could see, it looked hunched over and disfigured. I don't think it had any fur. It was pale in color, but again, it was so dark, I'm not sure what color it was. It had big, black, soulless eyes, like looking straight into a void. It had sharp, jagged teeth, and I've had... I don't remember a nose at all. Hope this description helps. Maybe it wasn't a Skinwalker because I guess

they don't leave Navajo land, but it was really scary. I should also mention that where I was was in the woods of Wisconsin was not too far from the Hanneville Indian Reservation in Manomi County, Michigan, but again, not Navajo, so I'm not sure what it was. My Skinwalker Story Before I begin, I would like to say this is a very long story. It's a very long story. It's something that's haunted me since I was six years old, since my first encounter with it. I've had dreams about this, and two very specific encounters with the creature. I'm sharing this story so I could possibly find help on what to do or how to get rid of this

creature that's been hunting me since I can remember. Just for background, I'm a 21-year-old female and still worry about this creature finding me, but I'll get into detail why later. For now, here's my story. I would always go camping with my grandparents, who I call Gammy and Gampy, at the end of my school years. I would always look forward to it since I grew up loving the outdoors in the woods. I especially loved camping, loving the idea of having s'mores,

taking long hikes, being around the campfire, and of course the wildlife we would see. Now I grew up in California, mostly near city, so the forest was like my true home to me. I always preferred being near trees and dirt rather than the buildings and crowded places. Besides, the woods were much quieter and more peaceful.

I always felt safe when I was there. Like nothing could ever hurt me. But something strange would always happen at the end of the month of May. I would always have this reoccurring dream during the last week of my school year. I would be in the woods, walking alone down a dirt trail. The woods were always strangely quiet. I would continue to walk this path until I saw this red fox poke its head out from behind a tree. Its eyes were always strangely human-like, but they were yellow and somehow looked like a teddy

bear eyes. It would just stare at me. It wouldn't make it sound at all. It would just watch me. Usually in my dream I would go up and pet it. Then making the fox, finally making a noise, usually a soft growl. Then I would continue walking, and it would follow me. The first time I would have this dream was when I was actually around five years old.

And it lasted until I was perhaps 11 years old. Over the years, it would be the exact same thing. I would go for a walk in the woods, find this fox, pet it, then continue my hike with it alongside me. But about having this dream for the fourth time, it would start to walk behind me. That's when I started to feel uneasy about this fox. I could hear it making odd noises, but every time I went to look back, it would always just be walking like nothing was wrong. Even, somehow, giving me a smile. Sorry to go about one dream, but I now believe that it was a warning of the creature. Now that the dream is out of the way, I can talk about my first true encounter.

I was six years old, and I was going on a camping trip with Gammy and Gambi for about a week. Of course, I was very excited for it, being able to barely keep myself in my school seat for the last day of kindergarten. They had picked me up right as the bell had rung and already had the camping trailer attached to Gambies' truck. I remember he drove an old red truck that only had three seats, me always being in the middle. It took about two hours to get there, another good hour to find our usual camping spot. It was deep into the woods and far from other people, as my Gammy wasn't done. too fond of being around other people while we camped. As they were setting up the camping trailer, I wandered around the campsite, loving to dig in the dirt for bugs. I had sat down on the dirt

and started to dig, but I noticed how strangely quiet the woods were. It was never quiet, not even in the dead of night. I thought it was odd, but being only six, I didn't think too hard about it. As I continued to dig for bugs, however, I thought I heard my gammy call for me. She'd always call me Sugar Booger, that being a nickname she gave me since I was born. That's what I had heard, but it sounded like she was very far away and somewhat sick. Sugar Booger I looked up where I heard it come from, that being from the woods, but there was no way she was there because she was still unloading stuff from the truck.

Even at age six, it didn't feel right. So I walked to closure of my grandparents and stayed next to them. I soon forgot about my weird encounter, though, as we began to have fun. For the rest of the day, we played card games, sat down at the campfire as we ate dinner, and stared up into the stars. I always loved seeing the stars. There never been anywhere I lived at. We started to get sleepy around 9 p.m., I believe, and we started to get ready for bed. There were bunk beds that me and my gammy would sleep on, keeping our luggage on the top bunk, and we would sleep on the bottom bunk.

Due to my gamby snoring, he would sleep on the couch of the trailer. I would always sleep next to the trailer window just in case I couldn't sleep and wanted to look outside. I fell asleep pretty quickly, though. That being the last day of school and all. It was pretty exhausting. I remember waking up many hours later. It was still being pitch black outside. It wasn't weird for me to just wake up late at night

since I always have had sleeping issues. I rolled onto my side trying to fall back asleep until I heard Sugar Booger. My eyes immediately shot open as I heard my nickname being spoken, but I knew it wasn't either of my grandparents. They were both fast asleep and never were known to sleep talk before. I started to feel this horrible feeling in my gut, like whatever I was hearing wanted to really hurt me. Even at the age of six, I knew this wasn't normal.

Then I started to hear tapping at the trailer window. It was soft, but loud enough for me to hear it. Tap, tap, tap. I just sat there, frozen in fear. I was trying to just brush it off as tree branches or rain, but I just knew that it wasn't. I could tell that it really was someone or something tapping on the window. Then I decided to be brave and look. Big mistake.

I pulled the curtain away to only peak, and all I saw were these large yellow eyes. They seemed glassy, yet not entirely real. They looked like a giant teddy bear eyes, but cold and unwelcoming. I remember in that moment I panicked and quickly closed the curtains back up. I then hid under the blanket, that being the only thing I knew to do when I saw a monster. I could feel tears falling down my face. I never had been so terrified in my life. I just curled up into my Grammy's side and clung to her all night long.

That damn tapping, only getting louder and more persistent throughout the night. I don't remember falling asleep, but somehow I did. I do remember my gampy waking me up around noon, saying how if I didn't get up quick enough, we could still go fishing. I honestly didn't want to leave the trailer at all, terrified that whatever I saw that night before would be out there. I did eventually go outside, but I was constantly looking around, horrified that whatever saw me last night would get me. My gammy immediately knew I was scared and pulled me into hug when she saw me, asking what was wrong. I did tell her what I saw and heard, but surprisingly, she believed me. The next thing I knew, she was telling my Gampi that we were

moving campsites. It took a bit to convince him, but he did eventually start to pack up and hook the trailer onto his truck. I was put into the truck so I could properly sleep, but I just couldn't. I kept feeling that I was being watched, thinking that every little noise was that thing I saw, that if I closed my eyes even for a second, it would get me. My gammy wasn't too far away from me when I heard it again, but this time it was my actual name.

Aliyah! In that moment, I had never seen my gammy move so fast. He looked up into the bushes where we heard it, then to meet. She then got me into the truck with me and pulled me into a tight protective hug. I began to cry all over again, telling her how I just wanted to go back home. That's when my gampy got into the truck and since I was sobbing so hard to the point I was coughing, he agreed we could go home. We started to head out of the campsite still hurt that this trip had been ruined by something.

But I still didn't know that. That's when something in my head told me to look back. I slowly did so, feeling an ice-cold fear wash over me as I saw something. A red fox. Sitting in the middle of the campsite. Sitting there with large yellow eyes. The same red fox from my dream. Somehow, curling its lips into an eerie smile.

After that encounter, we never did go back to that campsite. We did continue to camp, but in more populated areas. I didn't tell my grandma what I saw, but she had told me to trust my gut. She knew that I was feeling sensitive to certain entities. and that would help me if I trusted it. Now, this would be the end of the story, but I'm afraid it isn't. There was one more encounter I had with a creature. It was much more terrifying than the first time. The second encounter I had when I was 17, many years later. By this time I knew very well what a Skinwalker was now, and I was still very paranoid every time I went near a wooden area.

I still worried about seeing that fox, but I never really thought about it too much. Me and my two younger siblings were staying in the relative's house for Christmas, them living way up into a mountain area. I think they were my great-in-un-uncle, but I'm not sure. Where they lived, there was no service at all, so unless we hooked up onto the Wi-Fi, we had no phones. I didn't mind the house, still loving the woods no matter what happened. Although at night I hid how they didn't close the window curtains, making it easy for anything outside to see inside. But I did feel safe while inside the house, knowing that they wouldn't let them. anything hurt us kids. Luckily, it didn't snow where they lived so we could go outside and run around.

They also had this beautiful black lab being about a year old named Pam. She was very playful and normally wouldn't listen to anyone but my uncle. Although she was easily excitable, she was a good puppy. One of the days we were there, my little sister and our aunt went out to the store for a nice girl's day, although I'm a girl, I wanted to go hiking with my uncle and my little brother. We left pretty early since the hike we were doing was four hours of walking into town. It was a really chilly morning, but since we were doing so much walking, it felt great. We also decided to take Pam, it being a good way for her to get exercise and have fun. About maybe an hour into our walk, I started to slow down a bit, wanting to enjoy the beautiful

forest. It was so peaceful. I could have honestly stayed there. But as we continued to walk, I started to feel something odd. I noticed how quiet the forest had suddenly become, hearing only our footsteps and my brother talking to her uncle. Pam noticed it too. Her ears going straight up and growling softly. I started to pick up my pace to go next to my brother, worried that possibly a coyote or mountain line was nearby. I knew, though, they wouldn't be out this time, though.

Even if they were, they wouldn't walk near the roads. My little brother was only nine of the time, and being the oldest sibling, my natural instincts to protect him kicked in. Again, that ice-cold fear I once felt when I was six. I tried so hard to not think of the creature, but it was all I could worry about. I was so scared. I felt like I was back to being that scared little six-year-old again. I had to stop for a moment, though, seeing my shoelace came undone.

I quickly kneeled down to tie back up, trying to hurry and just get out of there. That's when I heard it. Alia In that moment, my heart dropped to my stomach. My eyes were widened and I could just feel myself start to shake from fear. It was right next to me. I heard it clear as day. I slowly turned my head and there it was.

That same red fox. Still having those horrid yellow eyes and that same demented smile. Only this time I saw it much more clearly. Its fur looked so maddened and disgusting. The smell it had was like rotten, decaying flesh mixed with garbage. Its limbs were much too long for a normal fox, the back legs bending completely the wrong way. Those eyes were still the worst thing about it, but now they looked emptier than I remembered. I wanted to scream, to run, to cry, but I just couldn't.

I was frozen as I was, too scared to even blink. Then I heard it to speak again. This time, however, that I mimic my little brother's voice. Found you. Before anything else could happen, Pam suddenly jumped in front of me and started to bark like mad, snapping and growling so aggressively that it scared me out of my frozen trance. When I looked back, it was gone. I used that moment to run over to my brother and my uncle, who didn't see what I saw as they

were too far ahead now. But I heard my uncle start to pray and sing a song under his breath, keeping my brother and myself close to him. I was just too scared to even look back. So I just kept my eyes on the ground and refused to stop walking. Pam had stopped barking, but she was still loudly growling and never left my side as we continued our hike. My little brother was a bit worried, but he just thought it was a coyote.

When we finally made it up to town, my uncle had called her aunt and told her to pick us up, saying something about how it wasn't safe for us to walk back. Thankfully she did come and get us, but she was confused since we talked about that hike for days. On the car ride back, Pam never left me alone. She was right beside me the entire time. She knew that thing was after me, and she protected me. I was very grateful that she was with us.

Who knows what would have happened if she wasn't. When we got back to the house, I was talked to my uncle and aunt. Once I told them what happened and what I saw, they had started to pray and check that all the locks were shut tight, my aunt putting something around the doors. I now believe it was probably ashes, but I never did find out. Unfortunately, this made our Christmas vacation cut short, as they were worried that I was not safe while still in the woods. We had to be taken home the next day, then making an excuse of how there was an emergency

with a friend and that they tried to help them out. I felt horrible that this Christmas was ruined, but once I did leave the woods, I was I truly felt safe again. Before they had to drive me back home, though, they told me that it wasn't my fault, that luckily it didn't hurt me or the other kids. It did make me feel a bit better, but it still brought up a lot of questions and worries. Is it still around? How? Why? What did it want with me? Does it want my skin, my soul? Was it just going to be tormented by this thing forever? I still don't have any answers to these questions, but that's what really scares me. Now I've longed to move from California and now live in Kentucky. I do live in woods, but so far, that thing hasn't found me. I know that seems

pretty stupid on my part, but life had changed a lot when I was growing up. I was given no other option to live somewhere else, and my grandpa in Kentucky was kind enough to let me live with him. So please don't call me an idiot for moving to the woods when I had no other choice. Anyways, while I'm happy it hasn't found me, I'm still worried. Can it still find me? Is it still hunting me? I'm not close to anyone who knows truly how to get rid of this thing. And that's why I'm telling my story now so I could possibly find help. So please, there's anyone out there who does know, help me. My friend's Skidwalker's story. Back in college, a buddy and I were hanging out in our dorm room, smoking some weed and chilling.

We got on the topic of creepy possins and stuff, and I mentioned that I've heard some really creepy skimwalker stories. My buddy gets real quiet out of nowhere and said, I saw one once. Up, close, and personal. That shit is real bro. Of course, I asked him to tell me more. He said he didn't like talking about it, but eventually opened up. So his story took place back in the summer before he left for college. Him and his high school friend group had planned a big last hurrah camping trip. He was from Scottsdale, Arizona and I think they said they drove a good hour and a half outside the city to one of their friends parents ranching properties that's about eight people in their group and everyone shows up around the same time in three separate cars around when they show up it's already starting to get

dark so they set up their tents and a campfire and start drinking and smoking this one dude in their group let's call him tim has been a little bit more quiet than usual my buddy asked him what's wrong and he says something like I don't feel good just a little under the weather today Regardless, they start making brats and are all having a good time. Then out of nowhere, everyone notices Tim is gone, just totally vanished. Nobody even saw him leave even though everyone was relatively close to the fire. The group starts calling his name thinking he's pranking everybody. Then they start to get worried about Tim, has he been gone over an over hour.

So my friend and a couple others go out into the hills to search for them. They walk around for a good 15 minutes calling his name before they finally get a response. It's not Tim. Instead, they hear the familiar howl of a coyote, and it's answered by a couple other coyotes. My buddy says he was a little bit worried at this point that Tim might have gotten dragged off by some wild animals. Everyone in their friend group is paranoid because there's no way Tim could have gone missing without anyone noticing. Just no way. Then they heard another howl.

Suddenly. It's longer than the others, indifferent in that it sounds off. Like if someone had a recording of a coyote howling and decided to play it. My friend's blood ran cold when the howl ended in a sort of hacking laughter. And unlike the howl, the laughter sounded close, like 20 feet away close. The group starts frantically looking around, convinced Tim is out there fucking with them. He isn't. They don't see anyone.

They return to the fire and a little shaken up. Everyone is really starting to get worried at this point. The group starts considering calling the police when suddenly a truck pulls up to the camp sight. It's Tim's truck. Tim steps out of it and is wondering why everyone has been freaking out. Tim says he's sorry. He got off of work two hours late and hurried out to the ranch as fast as he could. This is when the group realizes that Tim didn't carpool there with anyone. As if on cue, they hear another long, drawn-out howl, just like the other one. At that point, the group noped the fuck out of there. They ended up pains the camp in a designated campground and the night went on as

normal. But my friend still says he thinks about when he asked Tim if he was all right. He claims that at the time he could definitely tell something was off about Tim but didn't think anything of it. But now he's 100% convinced that Tim was some sort of Skinwalker entity impersonating his friends for shits and giggles. How the creature knew what Tim looked and sounded like. Well, he has no explanation for that. Maybe it just got inside their heads. My wife heard a Skinwalker in our house last night. Let me start off by saying that my wife doesn't believe in paranormal entities or anything of that nature. We have three cats and one of them likes to be a rebel, jumping onto counters and meowing at the top of his lungs just looking for attention.

He does this throughout the night and it's a regular occurrence. Last night, after a few beers and video games, I decided it was time to head to bed with my wife. When I woke up this morning, my wife was basically attached to me with wide eyes and a nervous lollings. look on her face. I asked her what was wrong and she proceeded to tell me what happened last night. She said that around 2.50 in the morning, she was woken up by the sound that sounded like one of our cats downstairs meowing unusually loud. After giving herself a few seconds to perk up and fully pay attention, she says that the meow sounded more like a person trying to mimic a cat and it keeps saying hello. After meowing for two to three minutes, a loud bang came at her door and the notification

went off that our motion sensor at our front door. When she told me this, I checked the phone, and sure enough, there was a notification for motion detected at 2.52 a.m. I asked her why she didn't wake me up so I could grab the gun. She said she was frozen with fear and didn't want it to hear her make a noise. We're outrunning errands while I'm typing this, but something made me uncomfortable about her story. Last night I set the home security alarm around 9 p.m.

and we didn't turn it off till we walked the dog this morning. To make things worse, we had slept with all the animals in the room, and the door was closed. So whatever was in our house or outside the front door was not one of her animals. Obviously, the first thing that came to my mind was a skinwalker, but maybe I'm just paranoid. I checked all the rooms in the house after I got up. I'm not sure what I could have done anyways. It's very odd that my wife was scared so badly by something she doesn't necessarily. believe in. We bought this house, brand new, so no one has lived here before. When I'm home alone,

I do feel like I'm being watched or someone's always watching directly behind me. My wife also said that the house has given her chills since we moved in. Something is just off about it. We just got home and I went to hang up one of my shirts in the master bedroom closet when I noticed that the board that covers the attic access has been shifted a little. When I asked my wife about it, She said she's never been up there, and the builders would have placed it back in its original place before we made the purchase. I'm genuinely getting anxious just thinking about this. What could be going on?

Has anyone had an experience like this, or similar at least? We're going to my mother-in-law's to get some sage. My wife said burning it to keep whatever's around our house away. My skeptic father still can't explain what he saw in Navajo Mountain, Utah. Hi Snook, love your channel and just wanted to share the story I wrote about my skeptic of a father's experience of seeing a skinwalker. My father and uncle have a story of living as outsiders, non-native, Caucasian young people on the reservation, their tale of experiencing a skinwalker. My grandma taught school on the reservation, and they lived well off compared to the natives living there. From what I know, there is a lot of lore surrounding the Navajo nation.

non-natives, primarily older generations, keeping their experiences and stories left unspoken, especially to those not from their culture. Forgive me if I'm mistaken in any part of this, the culture, ideology, practices, or any other part. I'm just trying to tell the story my family has only spoken to me and whispers about. My grandmother, father, and uncle lived there for a few years, and their experience was much different than the Navajo people who had lived. live there for generations upon generations. I just want to tell their story and get insight as to anyone else who has lived in that community and any other stories some people might be willing to

share. My father and uncle are about two years apart in age. They lived in Navajo Mountain in the 1980s. My dad was 10 to 12 years old and my uncle was younger. As it goes, they were always outside riding bikes with their friends, natives of the reservation. My grandma was a recovering from an abusive relationship with their father and wasn't too concerned with their whereabouts, being it was a small community. There wasn't much trouble around, nor would they know what real trouble was at that age. Trouble wasn't the issue to young white boys on a reservation then. Pure terror was. It was a typical night without any parental supervision. The night was colder than usual, and the night sky was blacker than you could imagine. In such a desolate place, the stars in the sky

would light the night. This night was as if the earth had moved to a different dimension, in abyss. The boys race each other as they did every night, until they were compelled to force their breaks in unison. They simultaneously looked up. Each boy's face melted from carefree, innocent, and adolescent to unadultered horror. The boy stood motionless, grasping their bikes with every nerve, muscle, and strengthen their body on the dirt road. To the right of them was a mesa, one they rode by every day, the mesa that paralleled from my family's home, the mesa that they could see through my father and uncle's bedroom every night. This mesa would become fear and nightmares of them from this night forward. At the top of the mesa was a roaring fire, taller

than any bonfire that someone could assemble, bigger than a group of people could assemble. Bigger than a group of people could assemble. It raged and was unbelievable. It was almost as tall as the mesa itself. More unbelievable was the pitch-black figure seen cavorting around the bonfire. The native boys with my father and uncle informed them. This was not a typical Navajo dance or ritual. Pits began to form in their stomachs. Friends of my father and uncle turned back around without a word and bolted back to their homes. My father and uncle threw their bikes to the ground and ran across the unpaved road into their home. The two came back in a panic, relaying what they'd seen to my grandmother, but she was unconcerned. A legend of the natives, she told them, and shewed them

away. They laid awake all night in their shared room, not saying a word to one another. They forced their curtains as close as possible, too scared to look out the window and see what they shouldn't have begun with. Neither could shake the images burnt into their memory. But the sun managed to rise and peeked through into their room. A sense of release washed over them as the darkness had faded. The boys left their bed and traveled to the kitchen to try a second time to tell my grandmother what they saw that night. They tried to get a handle on what they saw, but it was as if they couldn't explain it. Again, my grandmother brushed them off with a coffee and newspaper more important than their story. She told them to climb the mesa and investigate. The boys wrangled their friends who

shared the experience with them the knife of friar as they passed on their bikes. The friends stayed on the dirt road. Looking up at the mesa as my father and uncle climbed up to see any evidence of the hell-burning fire they witnessed together. The mesa wasn't much taller than an average one's house, so the brothers took less than two minutes to climb to the top where the nightmare took place. at the top they were hysterical and also relieved. There was no indication a bonfire of that normity or even a fire at all had taken place on that mesa. They had clearly seen it the night earlier. They climbed down and told the message to the friends who had also been a part of the shocking scene. Their native friends looked at them in shock, but neither said a word to them.

They immediately turned their bikes around and proceeded home. It was never talked about again, despite my father and brother asking about it. My grandmother, and everyone else in the community, refuse to talk about it again. My father is a skeptic. He does not believe in anything paranormal, aliens, ghosts, mermaids, you name it. But whenever I ask about the Skinwalker, he saw, he turns pale and white. He gets quiet, jumpy, and curt. I had to plead to get the full story out of him,

and I could see the goosebumps and every hair standing up on his arms when he shared his experience. My grandmother took me to the Navajo Mountain in 2019 to show me her history and to see how Navajo natives still live on this reservation today. According to her, not much has changed since living there in the 80s. I hiked and explored what I could have the reservation, as to not invade or violate any of the Navajo reservation and its beauty. However, I did feel a change in mood when I visited.

My existence felt heavy, as if I wasn't supposed to be there or if I was. was invading on territory that wasn't meant for me, not caused by any of the community there, but just by my presence being on the land. I will never forget my experience visiting and all that I learned about reservation life. My intention is to hear any other stories from Navajo mountain residents or talk with some people with similar stories in the Navajo Reservation. I climbed the mesa where the Skinwalker my dad and uncle claimed had its ritual. I felt pretty normal until I got to the top and stood in the middle. I felt some darkness creep into me as I stood there. I've never been the same since. My brother left to hike the Appalachian Mountains. What came back isn't him.

Written by Diet Pepsi B Word. My brother, Kevin, not his real name, I am trying to keep some anonymity, has always been outdoorsy. Growing up, he would wander up. off into the woods behind my parents' property and stay out there for hours. He said that being out in nature brought him a lot of peace. A few months ago, things kind of spiraled for him. He lost his girlfriend, his job, and his apartment within six weeks. He ended up moving back home with me and my parents to try and get back on his feet. It was hard to see him like that. I mean, he was never someone I would describe as an eternal optimist, but that little spark he always had was gone. This past spring, I found him sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the night.

He was picking apart a piece of cold pizza, and it was the first time I'd seen him almost eat something in days. I told him maybe he should get back out into the nature, into some hikes, or maybe do a solo camping weekend. I said that, I had to. I had to be a little camping weekend. I said that, I had noticed he had seemed down lately and maybe being out in the world could help him get back to himself. In the moment, I wasn't sure if he was really hearing me, but he took a bite of pizza, squeezed my hand, said he loved me and went back to his bedroom. The next morning he announced to my parents he was going to hike the Appalachian Trail. My mom was hesitant, but Kevin told her that he knew enough about himself to know that sitting at home in his room was causing more

stress than if he could go out to just be in the place that made him feel most at ease. My dad just said that, as long as Kev checked in every few days or so, he didn't see a problem with it. My dad pointed out that it wasn't like Kevin didn't have the experience. He was a Boy Scout turned Eagle Scout turned camping enthusiast. People do that hike all the time, Kathleen. if it were dangerous, no one would be bragging about it. I remember him saying those words exactly.

I don't know why they stuck in my head the way they did, but maybe it was the way Kevin seemed to brighten up a little after my dad gave him blessing in a sort of roundabout way. The next two weeks were spent helping my brother pack what he would need, registering his hike and buying a plane ticket to Georgia, where he would start his trip. The night he left, our mom was a man. She kept fussing over him as if he wasn't a full-grown man.

She kept asking him if he had everything he needed, and he just kept assuring her he did and would check in with us once he got to the trailhead. Looking back now, he seemed genuinely excited. If I had known what would happen, I would never let him leave. My brother called like he said he would, just as he was beginning this trip. He even sent a photo in our first. family group chat that showed him up against a backdrop of purple blue mountains and lush greenery.

He had a thumbs up and his signature slightly off center smirk. He wrote, Finally made it. Love you guys. Talk when I get better reception. Over the next few days, Kevin would send a photo or two, usually of his surroundings, but occasionally he would send a selfie with the caption, Proof of Life. But as the days were on, we stopped getting updates as frequently. What was a text at least once a day became a text once every three or four days. My dad blamed it on spotty cell reception, which made sense. And it wasn't as if the messages stopped altogether, and from what I could piece together, from his photos and short text bursts, he was making good time. It was around a month and a half. It was around a month and a half.

into his trip when we realized it had almost been two weeks without any communication from Kevin. We called the authorities. We gave them all the information that we had, but based on what we knew, it was hard to say he was even missing. As far as the police were concerned, he had gone off grid with the intent of going off grid. Sending out search and rescue would cost thousands of dollars, and it would be a waste of resources. especially if there was someone else who needed it. They said they would put a notice out to the Ridge Runners, and if they saw Kevin, they were told to tell him to contact us.

My mom was furious, but I couldn't necessarily blame the cops for the reason. We had no evidence to support that Kevin was anything but content out in the wilderness. A few days later, a text came through. Just a photo of a sunset and the words. Everything is okay here. That began the new normal of communication with my brother. There would be long stretches of time where we would hear nothing, just long enough for my mother to start panicking,

and then we would get a blurry photo and a generic caption like, Look what I saw today, or wish you were here. One night, while going through the photos he had sent, I realized in the background of every shot from before we had called the police, was a black smudge. It was too blurry to properly make it out, and it didn't seem to be an animal, or something caught moving in the camera lens.

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The smudge was gone. Kevin came home earlier than expected. He also hadn't told anyone his plans. One night during dinner, there was a loud, sharp knock at the door. My dad got up to answer it, and there was Kevin. His hair was long and stringy. He had grown a patchy beard over his cheeks and jaw. His lips were dry and cracked,

and his gums were coated in a dried layer. of blood. He was rail thin. He had lost at least 30 pounds, and he wasn't a large man to begin with. His clothes were filthy, caked in mud and debris, and his shoes looked like they had been worn thin at the sole. My mother made a sound almost like a yelp and rushed over to him. The smell coming off of him made me gag. It smelled like he had smeared. rotting meat under his armpits. My dad just looked at him in shock. When he finally spoke, his voice was dry and raspy,

as if he hadn't used it in weeks. Mom. That was all he could say before he practically collapsed in her arms. I won't bore you guys with everything that happened after that. There was a lot of hugging, some tears, and then a very, very long shower. But something didn't feel right. Kev went to bed pretty much immediately after.

He barely even looked at us. The next morning, he ate breakfast with a ferocity that made my skin crawl. He was gulping down huge mouthfuls of food, barely stopping to breathe. My mom just kept piling his plage with bacon, eggs, and toast. He stopped only after he had consumed a whole loaf of bread, two packages of bacon, and nearly two dozen eggs. I tried to ask him about the trip, tried to get him to say anything at all really, but all I got were grunts and uh-huhs before he lumbered back off to his bedroom. The next few days were more of the same. Kev eating an insane amount of food.

sleeping for hours and then mumbling his way through conversations. It took about a week for him to start communicating like a human being again, but even then it was stilted, awkward, and unnatural. He's been home for almost a month now and something isn't right. His voice, it changed somehow. It's still his voice, but it's like there's a second voice buried underneath it. like someone is trying to harmonize while he speaks. He lumberes around the house, like his knees are locked in place, but he refuses to go to the doctors.

The worst part is the smell. It still won't go away. No matter how often or how long he showers, he still reeks like death. I could have maybe ignored all of this, maybe blame it on him being isolated in the woods for weeks, but after what happened tonight, I couldn't sleep. That feeling of fear in my stomach I felt ever since he's been back hasn't gone away, and honestly, it keeps me up most nights. I was trying to wilt myself to sleep when I heard the backdoor creek open.

I crept out of my bedroom and down the hall. From my viewpoint, I could see into the kitchen through the window into the backyard. I saw my brother, perched on his hands and knees. He was twitching wildly. Like every muscle in his neck and head were spasming. He widened in his stance and thrashed his head towards the ground and out of my line of sight. I was worried that maybe he was having some kind of seizure. So I ran out to check on him and that's when I saw it.

His head was buried deep into the carcass of wild. one of our neighbor's cats. He was chomping down on its tiny body, blood oozing out between the gaps in his teeth. The thing had clearly been dead for at least a day or so. Its body bloated and its eyes were dull and hazy. Kevin reached inside the cat's body and started to strip off pieces of muscle and tendon, slurping them up the same way he had been eating our mother's cooking.

pressing his thumb into the thing's skull, he popped out one of its eyes and tossed it back like a grape. I ran. I ran back into the house and locked the door behind me. I was about to run back to my bedroom when that smell hit me, that horrible death stench that had been wafting around my brother. I opened the door to his room and inched a few feet inside. Wrapped in his bedding were the decayed bodies of 20 or so animals.

rabbits, mice, squirrels. I tried to run into my parents' room to wake them up to tell them that we needed to call someone. As I turned around, I saw Kevin in the kitchen window. His body drenched in blood. He was eyeing me through the glass. His head tilted at an angle that shouldn't be possible. The vertebrae in his neck strained underneath his skin.

He lunged at the window and I screamed. My parents woke up then. They found me in the hallway, sobbing, sweating, shaking with fear. I told them what I saw, and my dad rushed outside to try and, well, I don't know exactly what he was trying to do, but it didn't matter. My brother was gone. We called the police and they said it sounded like my brother had had some sort of mental crisis. Maybe he had picked up some kind of parasite in the woods that was impacting his brain chemistry. I know they're wrong, though.

Whatever that thing is, it is not my brother. My brother left for the Appalachian Trail and never came back. I think whatever that black smudge was in those photos was something that hunted him. And I think it was successful. Whatever that thing was killed my brother and somehow his body came back home. My brother disappeared, but I am terrified. He will come back. I think I had a run in with a skin walker last night, and I'm afraid it might come back. This entire thing happened last night, and I still don't know how to feel about it.

I'm honestly still shaking up. I'm afraid that my dogs might get hurt, or even my family. So I've come here in search of advice as to what I should do now. Most have happened around eight-ish. When my mom's girlfriend called me downstairs, she had asked me to help her burn some of the boxes we had lying around in the kitchen, so we could clear up some space. We live in a pretty small house, two bedrooms and one bathroom for five people. I have two younger sisters, one I share a room with, 12 and the other 10, sleeps in the living room most nights, and we live with my mother, her girlfriend, who is very, very mentally ill, mind you, and my dog, Kobe, about two years old, Valentine, who we've had for six years, and they're three puppies, so there really isn't a lot of room to go around, and we could use the extra leg room. So I agreed, and we took the boxes out from her house and into the backyard. Our backyard, our backyard is the biggest in our small neighborhood and is not fenced in. We are also one of the only houses

on the block that has a shed, which is identical to our next door neighbors. Our driveway reaches over to our shed and since the yard is open, they both sort of connect. Anyway, while she was breaking down to the boxes and lighting them on fire, I'm not permitted to use the lighter. I was putting Kobe out on the chain to use the bathroom. Don't worry, his chain doesn't reach all the way across to her yard, and he was far away from the fire. While Valentine is roaming around the yard. The fire goes fine and we burn about two or three big boxes with no problem. Everything was very under control and we were even having fun with it. Around the end of the fire when the flames had started to fade away, Kobe started running back and forth from the driveway

to near where we were, barking frantically and trying very hard to get off his chain like he was afraid and was trying to warn us of something. When this happened, I also noticed that Valentine was growling in the driveway. So I got up and walked over to him and see what was. was wrong. And I smiled and asked him, what's the matter in that sort of baby voice? But while I was standing there, I got that feeling, you know the one where you know you're not alone. I could feel someone's eyes looking right through me. I looked over in the direction of Valentine's barking and I instinctively yelled, oh my God, and what I saw. There was this inhuman looking thing, standing in the driveway only a few feet away from me. Despite having the light from the back door being open and all

the fire nearby. This thing was completely black. All I could see was its bulging eyes staring right through me, never wavering. It was so thin and tall, standing much taller than the small shed at the end of the driveway, easily seven feet tall. And God, I could just feel that something was completely off about this thing. Some voice in the back of my head was telling me, this thing wants to hurt. It's so angry. And it was like me and this thing, and this thing were having a staring contest. I heard my mom's girlfriend asked me, what was wrong? And I looked away for just a second, and it was gone. Completely disappeared, but I could still feel its energy looming around. When I told my mom's girlfriend what happened, we put out the fire and we brought the dogs inside.

I ran to my mom and told her the same thing I told my girlfriend, and she tried to give me logical explanations to what I saw, but none of them really made sense. She must have seen that I was afraid and wanted to cover me. But her excuses gave me no consequences. comfort. After that, I went up to my room with Kobe and tried to shake it off that feeling that thing had left me with, but honestly, I couldn't. I was struggling for a while. I stayed up there talking with my boyfriend for maybe 15 to 20 minutes before I heard my mom calling for me from downstairs. Her and her girlfriend had gotten into a fight and she had locked herself in the bathroom. Mom was fine with it and simply told me to keep an eye on the food while she went to pick up my sisters from

their friend's house, so I said, okay, and went to do so while she left out the front door. Not even two minutes later, my mom comes rushing back inside and I heard her walk into the hallway where the bathroom is and say, girlfriend's name. There's something standing outside watching the house. My heart sank. She finally believed me, so girlfriend comes out from the bathroom and says that she had seen the same thing trying to peek into the windows from the bathroom. And she immediately ran to her room to grab a metal bat and she ran out the back door screaming, If anybody's out here, I'll bash your fucking head in at the top of her lungs. Regardless of the situation, my mom still had to pick up the kids, so I walked her out to her car,

then quickly retreated back inside and grabbed a hammer from the closet. Kobe started slamming himself into the back door, screaming bloody murder out of absolutely nowhere. I'd never seen him do anything like it before, so reluctantly I put him on his chain so he could protect the girlfriend while she was out on the lookout. While this happened, I hid myself in the bathroom, since it's one of the only rooms in the house with a working lock, and I called my grandma who was at work and told her everything. She's a huge believer in this kind of stuff. She, just like I am, so she listens to what I had to say and tried to calm me down a bit since I was absolutely losing my shit.

I'm normally a pretty mature and rational person, but I just felt so unsafe and everything felt off. Just when things started to calm down, my girlfriend comes running into the house and tells me urgently that something had broken the basement window from the outside and she was afraid I had gotten into the house. So I hung up on my grandma after saying goodbye, had 911 on speed dial, and we went to check. Didn't see anybody. Searched around the house nearby and found nothing. It was like this thing was taunting us. The kids and mom came back and still things had seemed to cool down, but I could still feel that off and uneasy feeling, like it wasn't actually gone. Like it was waiting for the right opportunity. Grandma had called me

back to say that she would be taking me to her house for the night as I'm homeschooled unlike my sisters and it wouldn't be an issue. The kids would sleep upstairs and it with doors locked Kobe with them and the hammer I had from before. Grandma came and picked me up after work and on the way to her house she told me that while I was explaining all this, the hairs on our arms had stood up and she could feel the negative energy that I was telling her about. Like she knew exactly how I felt when I said something was definitely wrong and unnatural about this thing that was tormenting us. Later on this morning, I got a call from mom saying that after I left, she had invited some friends over to keep her company, ones with conceal and carries, and she

had went to grab something from the kitchen, which is where the back door is located, and she heard Kobe's chain rattling outside, and something's weight shifted on the back porch right next of the door. When everybody was inside and Kobe was upstairs, I don't know. laying in bed and thinking about it, I think that this thing was trying to latch itself to the dogs and that's why Kobe felt the need to be outside. He's been keeping very close to me since I've come home. And I have been very wary about going outside by myself while it's dark. I just came here hoping that someone would offer some sort of advice as to what I should do. I've dealt with paranormal stuff practically my entire life and this feels completely different.

If anybody knows what I should do, please reach out or comment on this post. I'm desperate to protect my family. My grandfather saw Skinwalker. My grandfather told me a story once as we sat around a campfire in his backyard in the cool night of the Arizona desert. The horizon was clear, and each star twinkled in a purple sky, with a full, fat moon hanging low over the mountains. His voice was raspy and gravelly, the result of a lifetime of smoking cigars and drinking

whiskey. The fire danced and shined across his wide, dark eyes as he settled into his seat, ready to tell a story. Way back when I was a boy, about your age, he began. I lived outside an Apache reservation with your great-grandfather. He returned from the war and set about raising horses and cattle. On a hundred-acre ranch settled between a Brambly mountainside, with dirt good for growing thorn bush and not much else. One night my mother was sick, and Paw and I took a trip into town about 50 miles away, straight through a dry desert, over a washed-out creek,

and some old abandoned farmsteads. The fire sparked and a log crackled, jolting me out of the story. What next I asked? Settled down, boy, you'll hear it soon enough. Paw and I were driving in an old poured pickup truck. I remember it was dark out, inky and thin. thick, with only the lights of our old truck lightened up the road. I remember, too, when the engine began to sputter, and the truck slowed to a jerky stop.

God damn it, Pa said, guided the for the side of the road as it coasted to a halt. Stay here, son, as he stepped down to the darkness, shutting the door with a heavy thud. My window was down, and the cold desert air was breezy and felt good on my hot face and neck. Pot was getting water from the back to cool the engine, and that's when I smelled it. Rotten eggs. Strange, I thought, to smell sulfur in the desert. My nose also picked up carrion, like one of them dead-blooded cattle that would drop dead from the heat and lay there, until the crows pecked enough holes in their side to cause

the whole thing to explode. It stunk, and I gagged. My skin started to tingle, too. The back of my neck felt itchy, and my face started to get hot. The wind stopped blowing, and home. hung still and heavy, with the stink filling the cab. Pa, I called, Pa, pa, pa, no answer. My heart started beating, and I felt such a fear in me, in my bones.

In my chest boy, I tell you, I never felt fear like this, not until Vietnam, not until I saw men dying around me. I locked the door and reached over from my paw's door and saw a shadow bound across the road, through both dim beams of light, across the partly open, domed hood. Grandfather paused. He spit a fat wad of tobacco spit off to his side, and he looked pensively into the darkness. I realized I was holding my breath and I gasped for air. The night was cool, but I was sweating and clammy. Well, what happened? What about your father? What did you see? He sighed. A creature. He shook his head. You have to understand. There were legends. Old

older than the rock karens out in the valley, older still than crazy horse and sitting bull, than the old engine chiefs and their shamans, the Apache, the Hopay, the Cherokee, and all them old tribes and first peoples. They told tales, old stories about dark engine magic, a deal made with old spirits of blood sacrifice to gain power, old power, enough to fight each other, and the Spaniards, and later the white men that came. came for their land and women. They called them. He paused.

Grandfather took a deep breath, embodied forward into his tail. Across the fire, in the sky, the desert, the creek, the moon and the sun, the old mountains, he bodied forward.

They called them. Skinwalkers. Shape changers. Old warriors resurrected as skinless men, all sinew and muscle. walking on deer legs with a torso of a man and the head of a coyote. But messed up, boy. Long and malformed snouts.

Teeth like a bowie knife. Long arms and standing seven foot even hunched over. They'd gut the old cowboys and white riders. They'd run through bullets and sabers, part the Spanish armor like it was a potato sack. Willie too. They could change their voice to match a person you knew or might know. Boy, that's what I saw.

Big and fast, only for a second it ran across the road. Gray and modeled. Muscle flexing under its legs. Hoves clomping on the road. Stringy muscled hunched shoulders. And it turned. Looked right into the cab. Looked right into my eyes.

And I swear. I swear, boy. It grinned at me. I sank into my seat. In shock. and fear, shaking. I knew death was near. The air was electric.

I smelt ozone and brimstone. The air felt like right before the lightning comes and blows a tree to smithereens, charged and full with power. I yelled for my paw, but no words came out, just a dry squeak. I was shaken as grandfather told his story. He was still here, so I know he lived,

but the supernatural always fascinated me, and even now, I felt the force of his work. The real power of Skinwalkers was trickery. Sure, they could change their voices, but also their skin. That's why the gods took their hide, so they could take others. Not for long, the legend says, maybe an hour, before the soul of the skin they wore would come looking for their mortal shell before going to whatever hell waited them. Though I think, that getting skinned alive was hell enough.

A minute passed in what felt like a lifetime, one second in a thousand years. My father's door opened, and I jerked my head to the left, putting my fist up to fend off attack. Son, it's me, my father said. Before climbing into the cab, he grasped the steering wheel and pulled himself in awkwardly, jerking himself into the seat. I cringed into the corner. I looked at him. I looked hard. Boy, your great-grandfather was a good man. Treated me and my ma right. He fought the... And saw the worst man in Poland when he freed him all camps.

And now I was taking his measure. Is this my father? Do I make a run or do I die? Is it him or not? Let's go get that medicine for your ma as he pulled the truck into gear and pulled it out onto the road. And our trip resumed.

I guess it was him after all. But how did you know? Was it because he said something about your mom? No, boy. I knew because, out the window, out the corner of my eye, I seen the beast running 50 miles an hour right next to the car, looking at me with them yellow eyes and grin at mouth. I looked at it and saw it, hunched and angry,

running next to us, boy. My paw kept his eyes on the road locked straight forward. Son, he said, don't look at it. Don't look at it. That's how I knew, boy. I'm a Marine station at Camp Pendleton. I met a skinwalker in the dirt fields. Being assigned to Camp Pendleton was a dream come true, located in Oceanside, northern San Diego.

It's one of the biggest marine corps bases in the U.S. There's a ton of stuff to do nearby, whether it's going to the beach to surf, swim, or go for drinks at the pier. The people around here are mellow, and there's a surfer sort of vibe to the neighborhood I moved into. Everything was going great for me, the first few weeks while I was here, but I noticed that despite the laid-back attitude of the surrounding area where I lived, my work life was rigid and inflexible. My commanding officer gruff and no nonsense. I began to realize this place was not going to be a catwalk. Then, one cool night, I woke up disoriented and far from my bed. Looking around I saw there was nothing nearby, not another person from miles, just flat, dirt ground,

with hills in the distance, in the black sky full of stars and a full moon above. I must have been sleepwalking. I thought to myself rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I had been marching in my dreams while remembering my days of basic training, and I somehow ended up in the middle of the dirt field. I looked around in every direction and finally saw lights in the distance behind me. At least I had an idea which way to get. go now. Turning around, I started to walk back towards the base. My legs wobbly from the long walk

while asleep. It felt surreal to be out there in the middle of the night. And I didn't understand how it could have happened. I've been caught sleepwalking once or twice before, but I'd never gone anywhere near to this far. Part of me wondered with a paranoid fear, just how often this happens without me realizing it. I walked for a few minutes alone, feeling an increasingly strained sensation like a tingling on the back of my neck. After a while, I began to begin to be able to be able to to suspect it was that outdated lizard brain notion that someone was following me, a remnant from some bygone era where humans actually had to worry about being stalked in the night. Just as I had that thought, someone cleared their throat in the darkness behind me.

A chill ran up my spine and my flesh broke out in these goose pimples as he spoke. This voice deep, gruff, and commanding. What are you doing here all the way out here so at late a night? He asked. He stepped closer and in the moon. I could see him more clearly. My voice caught my throat as I looked at his eyes and saw they were yellow, like a cat or a wolf or a snake, maybe. Haven't you been told to stay in your bunk at this hour? His tone was predatory and overwhelmingly creepy. But his demeanor was otherwise friendly.

The part of my brain telling me to run was suddenly being hushed into submission by an unfamiliar voice which told me that this was fine, not to worry about a thing. Look at his uniform, the voice said, and sure enough I looked down to sea, he was wearing a Marine Corps uniform, with the Insingia indicating he was an officer. You wouldn't want to disrespect a superior officer, would you? The voice asked, sorry, sir, I must have been sleepwalking. I'm just heading back towards the base, so I can make it home from here. He showed his teeth in a grin and told me he'd walk with me for a stretch. We must be distant relatives from somewhere down the line, he said as I walked, both of us out here walking in the middle of the night. I wish I could chalk up

my trip to some somnambulism, but I'm just a run-over-the-meal insomniac. I could never get back to sleep once I'm up. I usually just go out for a long hike. It reminds me of the old days when I was deployed, I guess. Going for long marches that started before sunrise, didn't end until long past noon. The more time that went by, the more guilty I felt for having almost run from the man. He was just an ordinary guy. After the conversation became easier as we built up a rapport, and I told him about my life and my background and where I was from. When I looked back at his face, I was shocked by what I saw. Maybe there really was a family connection between the two of us.

In the increasing light from the base as we drew closer to it, I saw there was a striking resemblance between us. He didn't look like that when you first saw him, that suspicious voice in my mind said in Laisley. His eyes were yellow, remember? And now look at them. They're brown. But it was quickly drowned out by that other, louder voice,

which spoke up and said, All this was okay too. It was just dark outside. in the dirt field and I hadn't gotten a clear look at his face until now. Tell me more about your parents, he said. I want to know all about him. What do they like? I started speaking again, feeling hypnotized as I looked into the older man's swirling brown eyes. He was walking slower and slower, and I was matching his pace. The base was close now. I could see the lights of it were very bright up ahead, less than a couple hundred yards away, but they were getting dimmer suddenly. The light

was fading. But how? Were we walking backwards now? Was I even walking at all? or something dragging me down. It took a few moments to shake the strange sleepwalkers' hates from my vision, and I realized I had been in trance of sorts. When I looked at the man's face again through my half-closed eyes, I was astonished at what I saw. He didn't just bear a passing resemblance to me. He could have been my long-lost twin brother.

His eyes were the same shade of brown, his hair closed-cropped and chestnut. His jaw was defined and his nose was sharp and angular, but his smile and his teeth. Those were not like mine at all. They were pointed in long, designed for tearing flesh from bone and ripping into shreds. He was pulling me, dragging me across the dirt deeper into the darkness again. Who are you? I heard myself asking.

And in that second, he changed completely. It wasn't like a horror movie when you see a man turned into a werewolf over a matter of a few minutes. The metamorphosis was not slow and drawn out. Instead, it happened in a split second. I blinked and the man who looked like me was no longer there. In his place was an indescribable monster, tall with long limbs, pale gray skin, and pitch-black eyes. Its jaw unhinged as it revealed lepteat teeth longer and sharper than those belonging to wolf

or bear. He reminded me of that strange, ethereal white-masked creature from spirited away, full of hate and hunger and waiting to consume everything. It didn't appear solid. This thing looked like it was made of shadows. A shot was fired suddenly, bringing me out of my hypnotized stubborn. I realized that I was being dragged away from the base. The creature had my shoulder between its jaw, and it was biting down so hard I could feel

it's grating against the bone. Another shot rang out, and as I heard a few people yelling. There were footsteps, and I heard someone approaching behind me. The thing tried to pick me up in his jaws, and it was so massive and so strong that it actually succeeded momentarily. I thrashed and punched it in his face, kicking it in the eyes. My shoulder was on fire, and my entire arm felt like it was dangling by a threat, as if food pop off at any second, unhinging at the joint like a Thanksgiving turkey drumstick.

And then for a second I thought it would. It popped out of socket and dislocated. The flesh began to rip and tear and bleed. The creature nearly tore my arm clean off as another shot rang out. I gave it one more good, hard kick to the face, and the already wounded monster dropped me to the ground, letting out a low moan of pain. It fell. It formed turning it into a dark black puddle of darkness like an oil spill, before skidding off into this. night like an infinitely long centipede. It blended in perfectly with the shadows. It was gone a second later. Just as a few other Marines arrived, are you okay? One of them asked, helping me to my feet. Man, I never thought I'd live to see someone get attacked by a mountain lion. You're lucky to be

alive. It took me a few seconds to comprehend what he was saying. It was so bizarre. The thing which had just attacked me looked nothing like a mountain line. It was long and tall and humanoid with a black, wispy shroud surrounding it like a living cloak. Man, are you blind, the other Marine asked? That wasn't a mountain line. I breathed the sigh of relief. I wasn't crazy. Someone else had seen the thing as well.

It was a wolf, a big gray wolf. Man, I've never seen one so big. You sure are lucky to be alive, though, that's for sure. Do you want us to call for an ambulance? I shook my head. No, I'll be fine. I can walk. I took a nervous look at both of them,

as of judging for myself again, whether they were human or not. But I decided these two were the real McCoy. If not for them, I would have been that thing's dinner. The two of them walked me back towards the base, and I tried to decide whether I should tell them the truth of what I had really seen, but with each step we took,

the memory started seeing more and more surreal and dreamlike, to the point where I even started to convince myself I had exaggerated what happened. Maybe it was a mountain line, or Grey Wolf, far from its pack, desperate for food. But no. The memory is concerned.

could have been wiped away, but the teeth marks were not. They were strange and totally unlike anything a wolf or a mountain lion might leave. When I went to the infirmary to get the bites looked at, they told me they'd never seen anything like them before. After several sets of blood cultures and antibiotics, they never did figure out what was wrong with me, or how to get rid of my symptoms, sleepwalking being primarily among them. I would get up from a hospital bed in the night, and it would take a whole team of security guards to get me back into my room. So desperate I was to escape back to the fields, I told the men I needed to get back to the dirt fields. To March, all they could do was watch as my symptoms got worse.

And as black, vein-like formations began to spread from the bite wounds, like a dark plague spreading throughout my body, everything is so cold now. And I feel like I'm losing control. I don't want to feel like this, but I can't help it. Whatever bit me, it infected me. It's contagion and spreading throughout my system, and I can no longer fight it. I get these windows of time when I'm with it enough to speak and live my life, and then I get a period of darkness where I remember nothing.

They discharged me recently, leave me alone to deal with the symptoms myself. I think they're worried about having me so close to the base. They don't know what I'm capable of anymore. Most nights I wake up far from home and don't know how I got there, just like that night in the dirt field, like I'm sleepwalking all over again. Except that's not what this is. This is something much worse. The dark veins are spreading up towards my neck towards my face,

making me stand out and look strange. People think they're bizarre facial tattoos, inching their way towards my skull. They keep asking me if I'm all right. As sweat pours down my reddened face and eyes dart around with nervous paranoia. The blackouts are getting longer and closer together. I don't know how much longer I have left to be me.

I'm terrified of what's going to happen with those veins get to my heart and my mind. Who knows how long I have left before I'm out roaming the dirt fields looking for a meal. The Watcher Beyond the Ridge. I've heard that some places just don't want you there. Not because of anything you've done, but because you don't belong. Because something older and quieter is already watching, already listening, and it doesn't like being disturbed.

I used to think stories like that were just a myth. Backwood superstition. The kind of stuff old people whispered. at night when the wind howled too long. I'd roll my eyes when I'd hear them. Skinwalkers, ghostlights, Wendigows, creatures that weren't meant to be named. They were stories you told around a fire when the batteries in your flashlight died. I used to laugh at all of it. Then I went back to my grandfather's land, and I stopped laughing. I grew up in the Four Corners area, Arizona side, a place where the map turns to rust and shadow, where the air is bone dry and even the birds

seem to watch you sideways. If you've never been out there, let me paint it for you. There are miles of jagged rock, dead rivers, and canyons that seem to breathe when the wind moves just right. The land feels hollow in places, like you remember things you'd rather forget. My grandfather, Daniel, was full Navajo, born in the late 30s. He was a silent man, not the kind who told stories for attention or amusement, but when he did speak, it always landed like a stone dropped in still water. One time, when I was maybe ten, I asked him why he never went out past the ridge at night. It was the flattest part of the whole land, beautiful and wide, nothing but desert scrub and sandstone and sky. I like to sit out there with my comic books.

I figured he avoided it because it was la la la. long walk. But he just looked at me and said, that's where the watchers move. I asked him what he meant. He didn't answer. He just went back to whittlingwood like the conversation never happened. Later, my dad told me not to worry about it. That grandpa was old, grew up with strange ideas. The desert does things to you, he said. People used to make up monsters to explain things they couldn't face. Just remember, we're not superstitious. That stuff's not real. I believed them. For years, I believed them. Fast forward to 2018. I was 24, fresh out of a long-term relationship that had ended like a controlled demolition, quiet from the outside, but everything inside collapsed.

I'd graduated from university that spring, but I wasn't ready for anything. Couldn't take a job, couldn't talk to people, couldn't sleep without feeling like I'd been dropped into the world. with a no parachute. So I did what most rootless people do. I went backwards. My grandfather had passed a few years earlier, and the old family cabin had been sitting empty. My dad had stopped visiting after the funeral said it gave him a weird feeling, so it just sat there, waiting. It felt right somehow, a place to reset, to be quiet. No Wi-Fi, no traffic, no X, just me, the sky, in the desert. I packed a week's worth of food, some books, a journal, and headed out just before Labor Day weekend. The drive out there is like a time machine. First, you lose the pavement, then the radio

stations, then the phone signal. You start seeing rusted out trucks half swallowed by the earth, faded signs in two languages, stray dogs that watch you as you pass like they're judging something you can't see. Eventually, even the fences disappear. It took me six hours to reach the cabin, most of it on roads that hadn't seen a greater in decades. The last half mile was a dirt trail barely wide enough from my Tacoma. Sagebrush scraped the sides of the truck, and the sun hung low like a lid on a pot, turning the sky an angry, gorgeous red.

Then I saw it, just like I remembered. A single-story structure made of weathered pine and stone, tucked between two sloping ridges. The place looked half-swalled by the land. No lights, no movement, just stillness. Get your tickets now for the dog stars. It's no surprise how fast civilization can disappear. Go! A therapist. Kill or be killed.

Jacob Allurety. There are people out there? They need our help. Josh Bruland. Shoot first and inquire afterwards. Margaret Quali. Okay, tough guy. And Guy Pearce.

Arm up! The Dog Stars, directed by Ridley Scott. In theaters Friday, get tickets now. Like I had been dozing off for decades and was surprised to be awake again. I stepped out of the truck. The silence hit me first. You don't realize how loud the modern world is until you're somewhere that's truly quiet. No planes, no traffic, not even birds.

Just the crunch of gravel under your boots and the occasional sigh of wind through the genitals. I stood there for a long minute. Just listening. It was peaceful, yeah, but it also felt tense like the land was watching me, watch it. I told myself it was just the stillness messing with my head that I was projecting. But a part of me, the part I'd learned to ignore, was whispering something else. This place hasn't forgotten you. I brushed it off, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

I woke around 2 a.m. to the sound of something moving outside. Not the casual rustle of a rabbit or a deer. This was deliberate, slow, heavy. I killed the light and moved to the front window. Heart already pounding. There was someone standing on the ridge. No flashlight, no gear, just a silhouette against the moonlit rocks. Perfectly still.

Staring at the cabin. Staring at me. I stayed frozen at the window for maybe a full minute. eventually the figure turned too fluidly and disappeared behind the ridge i should have left right then but i didn't because i still thought i was imagining things that would change i spent the next morning trying to rationalize i even hiked around the ridge looking for prints gear anything but there was nothing just undisturbed sand and stone and that same awful silence i returned to the cabin with my skin prickling like static. All I could think about was my grandfather's warning. That's where the watchers

move. That night, I kept the porch light on and slept with a hunting knife under my pillow. I didn't sleep much. Just after midnight, I heard it again. This time, it was footsteps. Slow, deliberate, crunching on gravel just outside the door. And then, a voice. It sounded like my mom. But it wasn't. It was wrong, too slow, too flat, like a cassette tape recorded underwater. It's cold out here, the voice said. Let me in. I froze. Then it said it again.

Same intonation, same syllables, a perfect repeat. I reached for the knife and whispered the prayer my grandfather used to say before every hunt. I didn't remember the words exactly, but I remembered how it felt, like spitting iron into the air. The voice stopped. I waited for hours, barely breathing, hand white-knuckling the blade. When dawn finally crept through the window, I looked out. The ridge.

It was back. The figure. Closer this time. Down by the tree line. Its limbs were wrong. Arms too long, knees bending the wrong way. The skin looked stretched, tight like plastic wrap over something hollow. in the face, there wasn't one.

Just blank, featureless skin, like wet clay. Then it tilted its head and mimicked the voice again. It's cold out here. I stayed locked inside until sunrise. By morning I had decided. I was leaving. When I opened the front door, I froze. On the porch was a dead coyote.

Its eyes were gone. Its mouth was filled with rocks. and next to it, carved into the wood, were symbols, deep, jagged, ugly. I didn't recognize them, but I knew what they meant. A warning. I packed everything in under five minutes. Didn't clean, didn't lock the door, just got in the truck and floored it. As I drove away, I made the mistake of checking the rearview mirror, the ridge, the figure, still watching. When I told my father, he didn't believe me. When I told my grandmother, she didn't blink.

Just nodded and said, you saw one of them. A yee, not a lushi, a skinwalker, a shapeshifter, a dark medicine user, something that mimics life without being alive. She told me they live on the edge of things, ridges, twilight, dreams. that if you hear your name called by a familiar voice in the dark, you never answer. I sold the cabin two years later to the nation, haven't been back. But sometimes when I drive near Chinle or Window Rock, I'll feel that stillness creeping again,

that quiet tension in the chest, and I'll check the ridges, because I know it's still out there, waiting, watching, and remembering me. My girlfriend went hiking. Her texts don't sound like her, and I think something is terribly wrong. Reddit, you have to help me. Please, I don't know what to do. Today, my girlfriend, Thea, decided to go hiking. I know I should have gone with her, but she always does her hikes alone because I slow her down. Usually she's only gone for two hours or so. Now she's been gone for nearly four. I'm considering calling the police. She should have been home by now. I've tried calling her. her repeatedly, but she doesn't pick up. All I have is our text conversation from the day, and as I read it over and over, I feel like something is terribly off. 2.33 p.m.

Me. Seen anything cool yet? Thia. Noteball, send you picks when I get to the waterfall, though. 2.57 p.m. You're cooking dinner tonight, right? Yep, chicken pot pie. Yum, so excited. After that interchange, we didn't exchange any text for about an hour. I whiled away the time constructing pylons in Starcraft, then around four she sent me a text. 4.6 p.m. I found the waterfall. Below this text was a selfie. Thea standing in front of a small waterfall, smiling at the camera. Arms crossed, cap covering her wild hair. Earrings, the turquoise ones I'd given her on our first anniversary, glinting in the light. I sent a text back.

You're cute. Then I stopped. Something about the photo bothered me. I stared at her smiling face, blue eyes shaded by her cap, her thick curls of black hair brushing her shoulders. Wait. Her arms were clearly crossed. She wasn't holding the phone.

There was no way she could be. Someone else had taken the photo. Or maybe she'd propped it up on a rock or in a tree, but she couldn't have taken the photo herself. quickly shot off another text. Who took that photo? She didn't reply to that right away, so I'd left the phone on the desk

and went downstairs to start prepping dinner. I pushed the creeping anxiety to the back of my mind and focused on the food, putting more effort than usual into cutting the onions. Call me paranoid, but my last girlfriend cheated on me and left my heartbroken, knowing someone else took that photo

in the fact that she hadn't responded to the text when she'd responded to the others promptly, made me feel awful. Come on, she's probably just asked them pass her by to take her photo. Clunk. My knife sliced through the onion, hitting the cutting board with a full thump. But what if? When I got back upstairs 45 minutes later, I was relieved to see there was a new text.

4.53 p.m. Thinking of you. I frowned. First, she didn't answer my questions. Second, Thea doesn't usually send emojis or smileys. Gifts, sure, but not that. this. It was weird. Thinking of you too. Did you get my last text? I'll be back by dinner time. Hard emoji. Thia usually didn't send less than threes to me either. That was more me.

In any case, I decided to let it go. Okay, I love you, hard emoji. I unpause Starcraft and played for a while. I was only interrupted by my phone pinging. I picked it up. A text. 5.37 p.m. I'm on my way back. image loading. The image popped up. It was another selfie. This time she was holding the phone. I could see her outstretched arm in the lower part of the frame,

and she was standing in a much clearer part of the forest. She must have been near the trailhead. I read the sigh of relief and began to type. Awesome. Pop-Pie is already in. My fingers froze. In the photo, just at the edge of the screen, there was something in the fallen leaves.

A shadow. A shadow, just a few feet from her own. cast by someone off screen. It's after six now. Dinner is cold. I've been sitting here, my heart pounding, calling Theo repeatedly. Nothing, except for one text that came in as I was typing this up. We're going to be home late. Sorry, I love you. Somehow, I'm sure she wasn't the one who sent that text. And all right, these stories are put into different parts, so now into part two of the story. Sorry I didn't post last night, so much has happened, and I'm still trying to process everything. I guess I'll start at the beginning.

Thea never returned home on Saturday night. A lot of you told me to go look for her myself, so that's what I did. After I called the police, I headed over to the trail alone. Well, not entirely alone. I brought our little dog gazelle, thinking she might be able to pick up a scent or something. But as soon as I pulled into the parking lot, my heart dropped. There was her car. Her beat-up Honda Civic, parked crookedly under a street lamp.

Thea's still here, but she wouldn't do that, not voluntarily. It was already pretty dark outside, and we have a lot of coyotes in the area. She wouldn't be stupid enough to keep hiking past dark, would she? I tried the door to her car, locked. Shot on my phone's flashlight in the windows. She wasn't in there. Nothing looked out of place, though it was hard to tell with how messy Thea's car always is. The dread in the pit of my stomach grew.

I grabbed Gazelli and headed towards a trail. As soon as we stepped into the woods, it was even darker. What little light left was in the sky was choked out by the thick foliage. I took a second to glance at the sign, to figure out which way the waterfall was. Then I continued into the forest. Thea, I called. Thia? No response.

I looked at Giselli. She didn't seem to be picking up anything. I tried to call Thea again. She didn't answer. All I had was that last text, staring me in the face. I'm going to be home late. Sorry. I love you.

As a last-ditch attempt, I sent a text back. 8.23 p.m. How late? Where are you? I've been calling you. I watched as the indicator went from sent to delivered and then to red. My blood ran cold. My fingers flew over the keys starting to type.

Where are you? Please call me, but then I stopped. If it really wasn't Thea writing the... those texts. If it was someone who had her, maybe that wasn't the smartest thing. I stood there in the middle of the woods, my heart pounding as Gazelli whimpered at my feet, and then I typed. That's fine if you want to stay out late, but I'm going to bed. I love you, good night. Three little dots appeared in response, and then it popped up. No, you're not. I stared at those words. My head swimming. Huh? What does that mean?

Gazelli potted the ground a few feet away. And then another text came in. You're out here looking for me. I hear you calling my name. Why don't you come a little closer? Winky face. I grabbed Gazelle and broke into a run, over the thick roots and large stones.

The train sloped up, then down. Out of breath, I stopped, shining the flashlight in a circle around myself. Thea, I screamed. Straining my ears for something. anything that might sound like her, a rustle, a footstep, a sound, anything, but there was nothing. I pulled out my phone and sent another text. Where is Thea?

And then finally I did hear a sound. Pab-p-p-p-phing. That strange little tone, the one I'd heard all over the house for the past two years, whenever Thea got a text or an email, it was Thea's phone. Right out there, somewhere in the darkness. I blindly ran towards the sound. But as soon as I stepped off the trail, the terrain changed. A deep slope, a carpet of dry leaves.

I hadn't gotten ten steps when I stepped on the uneven surface of a jagged rock. My ankle buckled. I lost my balance. I careened into the darkness. Thud. Then a rustling sound off to my left. The snap of a branch. I pulled myself up as fast as I possibly could.

Pain shot up my ankle, but I continued blindly forward. waving my phone every which way. White light flashed across gnarled trunks, yellow leaves. Gazelli barked at me from the trail, but I didn't see anything. I sent Thea another text. Tell me. And then I listened, and there was no p p p p p pang. No footsteps, no rustling.

Nothing. Just silence. Punctuated by Gazzelli's barks. The police arrived soon after that. I told them everything. I showed them the text, showed them where I'd heard the cell phone. They didn't find her,

but they did find something in the parking lot that I'd missed. A turquoise earring. I didn't sleep on Saturday night. I drove around town for hours looking for anything suspicious, asking late-night partygoers if they'd seen anything. I called the police repeatedly checking in on their search. Nothing. And then when the sun broke over the treetops, my phone panged.

To my surprise, it was so. Thea. 6.42 a.m. Thia. I'll see you soon. Image loading. A selfie popped up, but this one wasn't like the others. The photo was dark and grainy. The forest was all grays and shadows, maybe taken just after sunset or just before dawn. And there, leaning against a tree was Thea, arms hanging at her sides, hair wild, her cap pulled so far down, her eyes were completely hidden in. shadow. Just looking at it made me feel like throwing up. I sent the photo to the police immediately,

but they haven't been able to do anything with it yet. I thought they had some technology where they can pinpoint the location of a cell phone, but either they haven't been able to do it or they don't want to tell me what they found. There's one thing I haven't told the police. Tonight, I got one final text from her. After nearly 48 hours without Thea, after my fruitless search in the forest, after everything the police had done, this is all I have. One final text. 12.01 a.m. Thia.

Are you going to come find me? I think maybe it's time to return to the woods. Part three. You guys pointed out that going into the woods was a bad idea. You're absolutely right. When I wrote that I'd had maybe two hours of sleep and about five cups of coffee, I wasn't thinking clearly. That text was a trap sent by

whoever took Thea. I handed everything over to the police, even the final text. They were able to find out where at the cell tower the phone was pinging off of, but unfortunately, the area encompassed most of the park.

I organized a small search party to go around town and search. We all posted all over social media. Everything came up empty. Wednesday rolled around with no text, no leads, no word from the police, and then Thursday, each hour that went by without hearing anything, I got a little less hopeful.

Several times I forced myself to look at these three photos she sent me to look for clues, but they only made me feel sick. And then Friday happened. I had started the day as usual, checked in on the social media groups, looking to see if anyone found anything out. I made some coffee and was about to call the police to see if there were any updates. And then my phone rang. When I saw the caller ID, I couldn't believe it.

Thea. I snatched the phone and immediately picked it up. Thea? I asked my heart pounding in my chest. Silence on the other line. Thea, tell. Tell me where you are, please. Silence.

If this is who took Thea, please, I'll do anything. Don't hurt her. I'll pay ransom. I'll do whatever you want. Just please don't hurt her. No one spoke, but I did hear something now. A faint crackling sound? Static?

The wind blowing through the speaker? Please say something. My heart pounded. My leg shook. I glanced around the kitchen, my mind racing. Can't the police trace the call? Do they need to be on the line? Do I need to keep the call on for 60 seconds?

I had no idea. Do you want money? I asked. My voice trembling as I opened my laptop. We don't have much but I'll wire at all to you. Right now, please just give Thea back to me. I began placing a wireless call to 911. The crackling sound intensified.

Please. The call dropped. I immediately told the police. Begged them to trace it to do something, but they just gave me the same canned response they have had the past several days. So I got to my car and drove. I didn't even know where I was going,

but then I felt myself pulling into the parking lot staring at those same dark trees in winding trail. I was debating whether I should actually go in when I saw it, a plume of dark smoke rising over the treetops. I jumped out over the car and ran into the forest, all while that horrible crackling sound played in my head. Thea, no, no. I climbed over rocks and sticks following the accurate smell of smoke.

Please don't let it be. The fire stood in a small clearing, orange flames licking in the air, a black smoke billowing up into the sky. Thea's remains were found in the fire. God, saying that her remains. How can you say that about someone you love so much? Such a crude, horrible thing to say.

Thea, my wonderful Thea's gone. Since I got the news I've been sitting in the kitchen, down in whiskey as I flipped through photos of us in our final days. A photo of us on the boardwalk, her grinning and holding a stuffed teddy bear, me standing stively beside her. I remember that trip, how annoyed I was that she wanted to play every game in 90-degree weather. What an idiot I'd been. Every minute with Thea was a gift. I flipped to another photo, a selfie of us on the couch, her grinning as she held up the bowl pasta we've made from scratch. My thumb hit the screen as I started to flip to another photo.

I stopped. Is that? In the photo I could see our front windows behind the couch. I could see the neighbor's lights across the street, see a car rolling by the road, and I could see something else. In a regular shadow. I zoomed in. The photo quality wasn't great. grainy swaths of blue and gray, but even so I could see what it was. A figure. Crouched between our

two bushes, looking inside. I stared at the blurry shape frozen. Then I flipped the next photo. Thea and I sitting on the floor a week prior playing with Gazelli and zooming into the window. I saw that same awful shape. Crouched just outside the halo of our back porch light. The next one, the unknown a silent peeking in through an uncovered corner of our bedroom window. No. I flipped to the next photo. Oh, God, no, no. Thea's standing in the laundry room, balancing a basket on her head and sticking her tongue out at me.

But behind her, inside the house, a sliver of darkness poking out from behind the corner. Not a shadow, but someone's standing there. Yep. I jumped at foot as Gazelli let out a shrill yelp from the family room. I scrambled over to find her sitting in front of the window, staring into the darkness outside. Yep. Shaking madly, I stumbled over to the front door, clicked the deadbolt into the place. Then I cut my hands over the window and peered out.

Nothing. I ran through the house making sure every window, every door was locked. I closed the curtains, even slid the lock across the basement door. Then, knowing I was safe, I collapsed onto the couch and began dying under the police. and a few minutes they'll be here and they'll know everything. They'll find the bastard that killed Thea, who's apparently been stalking us for months. It'll make sure he gets the worst sentence he possibly can.

Thea will get justice. It's finally over. Or has it just begun? Smiley face. There's something wrong with my wife's new friend. I find it hard to put into words when and how this nightmare started. I moved with my wife Sarah to the other end of the country, which took a major toll on our social life as well as our marriage.

God, I wish I hadn't accepted this job in the first place. We were the social sort. She worked at a law firm and I was a welder. Out of the blue, I got an offer to relocate and resettle at another site for three times my income. After discussing it with Sarah, we decided that, I would take the job and she would find whatever work she could around here. Everything was okay for the first few months, but life started to get dull. This place is somewhat small, and there isn't really much to do around here that doesn't become

boring after a while. The lack of novelty took a toll on our marriage. I began to dread coming home from work and would take extra shifts just to delay going back to the house as much as possible. Every day, I would sit for an hour in my truck on a secluded part of the road, just smoking and pondering. When I did come home, I prayed that she would be asleep so that I wouldn't have to deal with her cold shoulder and snarky remarks. And I thought that was bad. A few months ago, we talked, and she decided to join some artsy club that one of her friends from work goes to.

I was happy that this would finally get her out of the house and maybe calm her down for the time being. How I wish things were like before. How I wish we never came here. So, she joined this club. At first, she was genuinely looking happy, and I was glad that she managed to find some friends. She became happier and happier until she started becoming more dismissive and secretive about what they were doing. One time I asked, hey, what do you actually do? And she just gave me this angry, bitter look before suddenly changing her mood and saying,

I will sign you up and you will see. This caught me off guard. From that point, she went back to her happy, warm self, at least so I thought. She would call me at work and ask about my day, which she hadn't done in years. I would come home to large, well-made dinners. my favorite movies would be on TV, I would think about a gift for my birthday, and she would give me the exact thing I had imagined

without me ever telling her. Suddenly, my life turned from hell to heaven for seemingly no reason. I would still stop by the deserted road only to cry tears of joy and wonder, what the hell had happened. Not that I was offended or angry that I had. Her intimacy also became something out of,

this world. I took a major cut to my pay so that I could spend more time with her. I swear, each day I came home, she was more and more beautiful. And those weren't subtle changes either. One day her hair would suddenly grow and turn lush and strong. The next, I swear, she was thinner and even more muscular. She spent a lot of time in her study making strange figurines for art club. They looked dark, with strange ruins carved into them. Supposedly, it was for some art world they were building. At least, that's the core of the project.

I don't know what material she used to make those figurines, but my head started to feel strange whenever I spent time in the house. I had this weird feeling as if they were looking at me. Sometimes I would hear faint whispers. Sometimes they would sometimes they would sometimes. somehow move from one spot to another, even though I was alone in the house and never touched them. My world became perfect until it all came crashing down a week ago. One day, I grabbed her hand and asked what had happened.

I kept telling her how happy I was and how much our life had improved. She just smiled and said, Maybe it's time for you to meet my friend Philea. The name felt somehow. off. I agreed and suggested we go out somewhere. But Sarah insisted that she come by our house for dinner, as she was supposedly an extremely private person. I didn't think much of it at the time. How stupid of me. So we scheduled the dinner for Friday night at midnight, which for whatever reason didn't strike me as odd. Someone coming to our house in the dead of night for dinner should have

alarmed me, but I was so invested in my happiness that I had lost all sense. Friday came and Sarah wouldn't let me anywhere near anywhere near. I spent the entire day out of the house. I had taken the day off, no less. And Sarah just gave me this disturbing smile and said, I will get everything ready. You go to town and have fun. No matter how hard I pushed, she wanted me out of the house. Again, I was too dumb to realize it. I went to bars and enjoyed myself like a child with near infinite money. I came home just before midnight, and Sarah opened the door for me. My jaw dropped.

She looked at least 20 years younger. I don't mean she was well-dressed or wearing good makeup, no. It looked like her aging had somehow reversed. Something made me... shiver with unease. Come in, she's almost here. She nearly screamed with excitement. The house was arranged like we were having a romantic party.

She had flowers delivered, incense sticks were all lit around, and the dinner table was filled to the broom of food. One small detail struck me among all this abnormality. Sarah had a missing tooth that was suddenly there again. Before I could press her for answers, someone gently tapped on the front door. There was no car outside, and we live far away from any public transportation. She's here. Sarah jumped with excitement and dragged me to the door.

The moment she opened that door, I felt sick. That gut-wrenching feeling when everything appears normal, but you know deep down something is very, very wrong. Thelia, welcome, Sarah said with her. a wide smile. The woman looked beautiful, unnaturally beautiful. I couldn't imagine anyone more appealing to the eye. Hello, Sarah, she said while gazing at me. Now I know her eyes were light blue when she came in. Can I come in? She asked in a charming, feminine voice. I muttered, of course, and noticed her wide smile as she stepped inside. At that moment, Everything around me seemed to dull, like I was severely intoxicated.

We sat down at the dinner table, and Sarah, for some reason, sat beside her instead of me. My knees shook. There was something very vile and off-putting about this woman. She wore a strange, ornate red dress with black jewelry set with what looked like a priceless gems. Her hair was the darkest I had ever seen, perfectly cam. kept. She barely paid attention to Sarah, focusing instead on me, which made me uncomfortable. Sarah placed the food in front of us and covered serving trays that we didn't own before. She lifted the metal covers, revealing an exquisite dish made from some kind of meat in rare mushrooms. My eyes widened. Sarah never cooked red meat, and this was far beyond her abilities.

It looked like something prepared by the world's best chefs. The strong, sweet, earthly aroma hit me immediately. Sarah and Dillia stared at the meat with almost ravenous expressions before devouring it. They ate as if they hadn't eaten in days. My hand shook as I placed a piece of meat into my mouth. The texture was incredible. The taste unlike anything I had ever experienced. How is it, honey? Sarah asked, almost mockingly. It's lovely, I muttered, and they both laughed.

Even though it tasted incredible, I couldn't swallow a single bite. It was as if my body refused to let me. I chewed and chewed, then discreetly spat it out whenever they weren't looking. It felt wrong. They ate like animals, their portions dwarfed mine. They were like hungry lions, not human beings. I felt anxious and out of place. Every part of me was telling me to run, even though we were supposedly having a nice time. After they finished, Sarah said, we should get more meat next time. That sounded wrong.

She had barely touched meat for years. Thelia produced a bottle of wine, which Sarah opened and poured. She gestured for us to move to the living room and sit by the fireplace. To my surprise, the armchairs were gone, leaving only the sofa. She poured three glasses of a dense, almost oily red wine. Now, I swear Thalia's eyes were dark green. Her pupils didn't react to light at all, as if they were decorative. They drank quickly and pressured me to do the same.

The wine didn't taste like wine. It was extremely sweet, unlike anything I had ever had. After that, I phased in and out of consciousness. I remembered nothing else from that night, except that Thelia gave me one of her black rings, which I cannot remove no matter what I do. I woke up the next morning in searing pain. My entire body fell low.

like it was filled with burning coals. I could barely make it to the bathroom. No matter how much I demanded answers, Sarah wouldn't tell me what had happened. I never fully recovered. I grow weaker each day. I have constant nightmares, and I always see that woman in the corner of my vision.

I hear voices in my head taunting me, telling me I'm going to hell, asking if I enjoyed my dinner. I had bite marks all over my body. They were deep and bloodied. But Sarah brushed them off. Each night I suffer from sleep paralysis. Finally, Sarah went out again.

It took all my strength to reach the taxi station and get to a private hospital in another town. The strangest thing is, as the doctors found no traces of drugs, alcohol, or any major injuries. They said they had never seen a case like mine. I tried to show them the bite marks, but they couldn't see them. My blood test showed that I am as healthy as a 90-year-old man,

and I seem to be aging rapidly. This damn ring won't come off. Three blades broke when they tried to cut it. The doctors think I'm a schizophrenic, and I am struggling to convince me. them otherwise. I swear some of the nurses are her. I recognize those eyes, even behind the masks. One of them smiled at me today. Her eyes were not the same color as yesterday, and I know the ring was on my other hand when I fell asleep last time. Sarah hasn't called me at all. Maybe she will get

another chance to undo her wasted life, as she called it. She denied ever being married to me when the hospital I think I encountered a Skinwalker. I have no evidence, but I promise you all this story is real. Sorry for the wall of text. I've always been a bit of a skeptic ever since I was a kid. Scary stories didn't phase me. Horror games never frightened me. And whenever I hear something weird at night, I instantly assume it's something normal,

an animal or just the house settling. Despite this, something very unsettling happened to me the other day, and I'm not really sure what to make of it. I think it's the first time in years I've been genuinely frightened. I live in a forested area in the U.S. Me and my girlfriend live in a large cabin, and although there are roads nearby, our nearest neighbors are at least a kilometer away. We also have two cats, one of which sleeps in the bedroom with us,

whilst the other goes out of night and does whatever cats do when they're out of sight. Anyway, I'd like to stay up late at night and sleep late into the mornings, whereas my girlfriend's an early bird. It was about one in the morning and I was watching crappy TV in the living, room while my girlfriend slept in the bedroom. I was beginning to grow tired when I heard something outside near the cat flap. For clarity, our cat flap uses an electronic chip so only our cats can use it. I assumed it was just one of the cats coming in or leaving the house and I just ignored it. Then I heard it again. It sounded like something thudding against the flat. It happened several times

at random intervals until I lost my patience and decided to just go and open the door. Clearly the cat was having trouble getting in. I never thought about it at the time, but this was weird because we fed our cats well, and they were very lean rather than chubby. I passed the bedroom and peered in as I walked by to see if my girlfriend heard the noises. She was fast asleep, but the cat that sleeps with us was staring at the window. I called her name. Nothing.

She kept staring. I shrugged it off and kept heading towards the kitchen. The back door through here. By the way. Anyway, so I reached the back door and saw a dark shape through the translucent flap. I sighed expecting the cat to be out there and opened the door. It took me a moment to open the door and I saw the cat tense up as I opened the door. The door opened fully.

I froze. It wasn't my cat. Whatever it was, I started moving before I opened it out. I only caught a glimpse of the distorted figure, kind of like a tailless dog, bolting, and I mean absolutely pelting it. I freaked out and slammed the door shut. What the hell was it? I wasn't sure.

My natural skepticism kicked in and I assumed it was just my other cat and I merely startled it. Perhaps the darkness had made it appear larger. Nevertheless, I was creeped out and decided to go to sleep. As I slipped into bed, I realized something horrifying. The second cat was asleep on the rug. It took me a while to get to sleep that night. Everything seemed normal until a few hours later. I woke to a strange feeling of dread.

Something wasn't right. My girlfriend was fast to sleep. I held my breath. and heard something creaking by the door. It sounded too loud to be one of the cats. It was as if a person was walking about. I reached towards my bedside cabinet and flicked on the lamp. The room was illuminated,

and I saw something standing just outside the open door, staring at me. The same twisted figure I had spotted outside earlier. It wasn't very tall, maybe a little over five feet. But it was just a face that stared at me the most. I only caught a glimpse of it. But what I saw will stay with me forever. It looked like a dog, but with an elongated face and almost human-like eyes.

You know that weird distorted snarl hounds pull when they're pissed off? It had that expression. I instantly started yelling profanities as I scrabbled backwards trying to straighten up. The creature turned and sprinted down the hall. I heard to dash outside and go past the window behind us, just above the headboard. I managed to look at as my girlfriend started to panic as she woke up fully. We both caught a glimpse of. Whatever the hell this thing was, as it dashed off into the woods near our home.

Grabbing my trusty shotgun from beneath the bed, as well as a couple rounds from the ammunition box that sits next to it, I ran out of the room in my underwear and rounded it into the kitchen. The door was open. I'd forgotten to lock it when I saw that thing originally. I hadn't seen it since, and we still live in our cabin. But I've bought sturdy locks for all the main doors and windows in our house, and I always checked the exit points at night. I also go to bed a bit earlier than I used to, so I'm asleep when the freaks of the night start to wake up.

I've read a bunch of forums and the only thing I can compare it to, based on what I saw, is a Skinwalker. If you know anything about these things, please let me know. Skinwalker in the woods. I live right next to a Navajo reservation and I've made friends with many people there my age. We like to hang out, play video games, and just be normal teens. I walk over a lot since my best friend lives a little less than a mile away from me. This isn't a long trek and usually only takes me about 25 to 30 minutes. I've made this trip dozens of times and I've grown very comfortable with it.

I know the people along the way so I'm not scared or on the edge. There is a patch of forest, however, about midway there. It's a little unnerving sometimes. There's always the feeling of being watched. This was a regular occurrence for me, so I tried to just ignore it and shake it off as my mind playing tricks on me. This day I spent more time at my friend's house than I meant to, and when I left, it was already getting dark. I reached the stretch of forest right as the sun disappeared from the sky. I shivered a little as I readied myself to begin the journey through.

I was ten steps in when I heard a branch snap. You know the sound. The one that screams there is definitely someone or something there with you. I froze, not sure of what I should do next. Should I run? Should I turn around and book it back to my friend's house? I didn't know what the best option is in this situation. I whispered,

Hello? Hearing my voice crack as the words fell from my lips. I don't know why I even opened my mouth, but I was out there so I listened for any reply. My heart sank when the answer came back in the sound of my voice. Hello? I started to breathe too fast. My heart pounded against my chest.

I felt like I might faint. Hello? My voice came again, but not from my mouth. I wanted to run. but my feet fell cemented to the ground. I couldn't scream. I couldn't reply, as my voice echoed over and over from a short distance away. I couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was coming from.

It sounded like it was everywhere around me. Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? It repeated. Stop it. I finally managed to tear from my lips.

Everything went silent. For a long minute nothing happened. The air grew stale, and I realized for the first time that there were no typical forest sounds. There are no bugs, no frogs, or crickets. Nothing. I stood there terrified. Waiting to see what would happen next.

Stop it, he mimicked back. I'd had enough and was willing to heavy legs to move. Before I could take a step, I heard rustling in the bushes 20 feet to my left. I watched in horror as a deer head with huge antlers protruded through the brush. As it came further and stood up on all twos, I took off. I flew out of those woods and all the way home in record time. I said nothing to my mom when I got there. I just went up to my room, lay down, and thought about what happened.

My mother came in at some point and asked me how everything was all right. I replied with that, yes, I was just tired. I don't know why I didn't tell her. I guess I might have been afraid of how she would react. I called my friend and told him everything. He freaked out and told me, no matter what happened that night, to not reply or look at my window. This terrified me even more.

He said to call him the next morning and he would explain more. In that, he had to speak to his grandfather as soon as possible. That night I didn't sleep at all. I stayed awake listening to every little sound the night brought. Around 3 a.m., just as I was about to drift off, the air changed. The night sounds quieted. I felt my heart began to pound. I lay there and waited, pulling the covers up over my head like a child, far too scared to move.

It came after a long moment. Hello? I cried. It was all I could do. Hello? Stop it. It mocked what I had said in the woods again. It was terrifying enough when it copied what I said, but then it did something new. It called my name. Amy. My mother's voice. Amy. Amy, come here. Hello? Stop it. My voice again. For the rest of the night, the creature outside my window called my name in my mother's voice and repeated what I said in the woods over and over. In the morning, when the same thing, The sun broke through the dark, it finally stopped. I fell into a fitful sleep. I woke around 12 to my friend calling to tell me he had spoken to his grandfather and could explain what happened to me.

He said there was a creature. They called Yi Natalushi. He who goes on all fours, or a skinwalker. He explained that it was an evil witch that used dark magic to transform into an animal with the attributes it required and that it had caught my scent and knew me now. I was also given a warning that since it knew me, he would always follow me, that I would always have to be careful. Last night I heard scratching on my window, then a low hum. The creature began saying my name again, and also adding in things I hadn't said in my mother's voice. At one point it started calling my name, a drawing added out really far like, Amy. It tried to get me to come outside, or to open the door and let it in my house.

This went on all night. At this point I felt like I'm going crazy. I don't know what to do. Is it seriously going to stock the shadows around me for the rest of my life? I don't think I can take that. Hey, Snook, I'm a huge fan of your channel, and I thought I would come on here and share with you a true story about my near encounter with a Skinwalker.

Every word I type here is true, and I'm still mulling it over. Anyways, on to the story, and I hope you and your viewers enjoy. Four days ago, I posted a video on TikTok replying to a comment, asking about skinwalkers and what mimics are. I posted a comment on a video about a lady who was seen in a public bathroom making faces and struggling to imitate human speech in a mirror, and I suggested she might have been a mimic or skinwalker.

This is where I fucked up. You know how sane Skinwalker is a surefire way to draw them to you? Well, I said Skinwalker, and I counted just how many times I said it. 20. I said it 20 times in one video. I know, that was super dumb of me, and I've learned my lesson. Now onto the consequences of my stupidity.

It took them a day to get here, but three nights ago, I woke up at 150 in the morning after only three or so hours of sleep with a massive headache similar to a hangover, even though I didn't drink before I went to bed, and an extremely uneasy feeling in my stomach. So, I was just goofing around on my laptop until 3 a.m., sharp, when I heard the most terrifying sound I've ever heard of my life. I don't know how to describe it.

I wasn't able to record it on video because it didn't last long enough for me to pick up my phone, go to the camera, switch to video, and press record. Believe me, I tried. But the second I reached for my phone, it stopped. It started out as one inhuman voice that seemed to be calling out. Then another voice that sounded the same,

started calling back. It was so damn loud. My friend on the completely opposite side of the complex heard it. It was one loud, long note with no rasp or breaks in it, and it was wavering up and down in pitch, but only slightly. I messaged the group Chad and asked him, what the hell that was, and he said what I feared, and that's when the true horror started. My friend saw one of them through his window multiple times while we were talking on Discord,

and he said that they seemed to be searching for something, or someone. That's when I came clean and told him what I did, and he tore me a new one. Now, I'll admit, when I filmed the video, I said Skinwalker a lot, feeling like I had the most valid god complex. I thought that I'd be fine and dandy, as I live on the edge, but also in the middle of my apartment complex. Think left, center stage. But there's a lot of light near my apartment, which I believe is the only reason I'm here

typing this. At around four in the morning or so, I heard, and I'm not fucking joking. One of them growling right outside my window. It was right there. More feet away from me. in that moment that if I looked at it, I was dead meat. I kept my blinds down and sat shaking on my bed, frantically typing to my friend that one of them was outside my window. My friend at this point was using talk to text and also ended up saying Skinwalker four or five times, which pissed them

off even more. So one of them was scampering around outside his window. He's on the second story, and the other was hanging around mine. I'm on the first floor. I tried to drink a Dr. Pepper as it's my comfort drink, but I felt sick to my stomach and was shaking too bad. I was terrified, panicking, and nearly shit in my pants. I felt fear, terror even, before but nothing like this. So I sat on my bed, typing away for hours until it got light outside. Then I went back to sleep, only to be attacked by the worst sleep paralysis I've ever had in my life. So there you have it. I know I fucked up and I firmly believed that that was both a warning and, if you come outside, you're going to be my early morning breakfast.

So guys, the moral of the story is never, ever. Ever say Skinwalker and think you'll be fine, that nothing will happen to you because I guarantee you. You're not special to them. They don't give a shit who you are. You're just a meal to them. And a meal they're insatiably hungry for. And I swear, I swear to God himself,

that every word I've typed here is true. Every single one. So please, don't do what I do, because I thought I was special and safe, and I wasn't. I'm not. Let me start by giving you some context. I'm 19. This all started about seven or eight months ago. I live in a small town in Northern Colorado.

One of those towns you'll have no idea exists if you pass through on a road trip and you're taking a nap. The town is mostly surrounded by fields and farmland, so you'll hear some noises but nothing too out in the ordinary. Sometimes a peck of coyotes or dog barking. At the very worst, a gunshot from a farmer keeping coyotes off his land. One night, I was walking with my friend. We'll call him Larry. He is 19 as well. We were walking down the main road of town, but more towards the outskirts where we live.

We're coming up on the first intersection of the town, and from across the street, we hear what sounds like a cow mooing. Every three seconds exactly. I was with my friend and wanted to make him laugh, so I jokingly yelled, Is that a Skinwalker? Worst decision of my life. We then heard it mooing for 30 seconds continuously, nonstop.

Then it was silence. We froze. We didn't know what to do until we heard a twig snap. We started booking it to my house and I told him he was staying the night there. After that, we noticed some things, mooing, coyotes, laughing, etc. It wasn't until a month or two ago that I got more active. One night, Larry and his 17-year-old brother Mitch were staying. in the night at my house. We were having fun, smoking weed, playing games, the works. Around 1.30 a.m.,

I started to get tired. I was going to watch YouTube on my phone, but I realized I didn't have my earphones. They were in my car from when I got home from work. I told them I'll be right back. Now I'm going to grab my earphones from the car. I grabbed my keys and walked out the front of my house. The front of my house is facing a field across the street. I also parked my car on the street. Once I get to my car, that's when I heard a voice across the street say, Hey, I look up and see something hunched over in the shrubbery, with two piercing eyes staring at me. I froze, unsure as to what to do. That's when it stood up. It was a seven-foot tall, pale, humanoid creature. I panicked and ran away back into my house. But every time I looked away,

I could hear it getting closer. A few weeks later, I had my girlfriend over at my house, and we decided to go get Taco Bell as a late-night snack, so that's what we did. After we got back, I got out of my car and started walking around to the passenger side of my car. That's when I heard a footstep in the grass across the street. Immediately, my head snapped to where the noise came from. I saw it hunched over again, its eyes staring into my soul. I kept eye contact with it and told my girlfriend to unlock the door and get inside the house. She held the door open for me, and every time I looked away from it,

I could hear another footstep in the grass. That night, we heard rustling going on in my backyard. If you don't hear from me after this post, I've accepted my fate to whatever is following me. And you might think that's the end of that story, but I replied to his email saying, this is a crazy story. And being from Colorado myself, this makes it so much scarier.

And I said, I'm excited to read it for a video, and, you know, hopefully you're okay. And then he replies back. Hey, Snook, I still love your videos, and I just wanted to email because there's more that's happened since I sent that original email in April. I've moved to a new house about a week after with my family. I don't remember the actual date, but I remember it still being late April. It's in just the next town over from where all the original encounters took place.

I don't know why, but when we first moved, I had a feeling that it would all go away. I thought that this Skinwalker, or whatever the fuck it is, that was following me, would lose my trail and leave me alone. And it did. for a while. About three months ago, my girlfriend, Jessica, was coming over to my house. I worked at a place that was open until about nine at that point. I was the closing manager, so I'd typically be out of there around 9.30, then a 30-minute drive home, and I'd be home at 10. Jessica got off work at 7.30, so she went to my house around 930 to 9.45. I don't remember the exact time,

but I remember it was already dark, and I was on my way home. As I was driving, listening to music, she called me. I answered the phone saying, hey baby, what's up? expecting just a normal phone call. Her next words ran a shiver of my spine. All she said was, it's back. For context, down my new street is a cul-de-sac, and beyond that is an empty field that is part of a property for a high school that was there. She said she heard that same repetitive mooing every three seconds exactly from that field. I told her to get in the house, make sure the doors were locked and act casual with my family as to not freak them out. When I got home shortly after, sure enough, I heard that mooing. I figured it found an area I was around but didn't know exactly where I was

until about a month ago. Me and Jessica were laying in bed. She was asleep on me and I was watching one of your videos, funnily enough. Then I heard a tapping on my window. At first I thought it was just bugs landing on my window. But that didn't sound right. It was rhythmic. He tap every second or two. Now granted, it could be a neighborhood kid trying to fuck with people, but it was 3 a.m. And they would have had to hop my fence into my backyard to tap on my window. It could be my little brother, but he was asleep to get back into the routine for school. I refused to turn around and look at the window. I figured if I ignored it, it would go away. That worked for a while.

Last week, a similar thing happened, except this time me and Jessica were both wide awake. It was around 1 a.m. in your plane Stardu Valley on my PS5 when we heard the tapping. She asked what it was, and I shook my head showing to just ignore it. Then, clear as day, we heard something from my window go, as if it was trying to get our attention. I froze and my heart dropped. She went to close the window since I had it open for the breeze. I shook my head.

again, and close the window without even looking towards it to make sure I didn't see the thing. I don't know if my original story got into a video, but I thought regardless on if it did or didn't, you could use this to get it more out there. Tell your fans do not fuck with this shit. It's real and terrifying. Coming from someone who's on the receiving end of it, I hope you have a great day slash night. And yeah, man, that's terrifying. Please send me any updates if, you know, this is continued. I wonder what it is. I wonder if it's a Skinwalker or some, have you even considered being a weird stalker? I don't know.

It's a very weird situation and yeah, it's terrifying. Hopefully it leaves you alone soon and at least your girlfriend is also witnessing it. So you're not like alone and think you're going crazy. So that's good. But I'd probably tell your parents about it. I mean, I would. But that's a creepy, creepy scenario. Please send me updates and hopefully it doesn't get you.

And yeah, hopefully I can hear from you soon and put it into an updated video about Skinwalker and scary stories, so please send when you can. And everyone else watching, please send any sort of Skinwalker stories. I'd love to read them. Anyways, on to the next story. Hey, Snook, I love your videos while I drive. They're amazing. I just listened to the Skinwalker one and decided to share mine after me and two others agreed

not to telling one. I figured since I'll stay anonymous, I'll take the risk. I also hope if you put this in a video, you can give your opinion, but if you don't, I'm glad you read it. So, this happened roughly somewhere in 2024. after school ended. It was sunset, and me and two others, N, who was 17, and K, who was 18, were cruising on back roads. That was nothing but red dirt and gravel. This is important detail later. We were blasting music, messing around, and we come across an open field with nothing except

tall grass and a perfect view to watch the sunset. We're in my truck, and we talk about pulling the tailgate down and talk about life and vent. As soon as we open the doors, we hear someone shouting help. We pause, we look at each other asking, without saying anything. Did you guys also hear that? I start the truck, turn the headlights on, and there it was. A woman who seems to be in her mid-40s based off the silhouette, shouting help like she's being killed. We don't know what to do, but we have the doors closed and we ask her each other what it is.

N says, could it be a skinwalker? Kay and I disagree, saying it couldn't be, but after we talk and understand, we realize the chances of it being a skin walker is high. I decided to be dumb and ask if she's okay. Worst mistake of my life and it haunts me to this day. This thing looks at us and I feel like I'm gonna die. I get in my truck, K and N ask what's wrong, but I ignore them. I put it in reverse and book it trying not to spin out. I put it in drive, but before I do anything, I look again and it's closer. I tell them what happened and they were terrified, shouting at me to drive, and I shout back, I am, but I drive as fast as I can, but as soon as I see me going about 50, I

start spinning out because of the gravel. I was inches from landing in a ditch before Jesus took over the wheel and kept us safe. We talked about it and decided to go back the next day. We head there about three in the afternoon, and we get out and walk over there. We smell a gut-wrenching stench like something died. We looked and it was disturbing. And threw up and we headed back immediately. It was a dead body that was decayed with bugs all over. We told each other to not say a word to anyone because people will think that we would have had something to do with it, and we agreed. I looked up Skinwalkers when I got back to my house, and it mentions how they imitate the last sentence of their prey as a type of trap to lure in their next meal. I also found out that they skin

the people to form a bond together spiritually. After that happened, I'm terrified of driving at night in the back roads. Whenever it's night, I always make sure there's highways around. And, um, geez, that's terrifying. I mean, did you look at the dead body? Is, was it the same woman? Um, that is scary. I don't know what to really say about that. I mean, could it be a skin walker? Yes, but our skin walker is real. I don't know. That's definitely terrifying. I don't know what that could be. Um, that's good you're alive, though. I mean, yeah, that's terrifying. I mean, did you ever go back? Was there any reports of a missing person in your neighborhood or town?

That's really scary. And sure, it could have been a Skinwalker. It was a very weird situation for you. I mean, at night and a woman in her 40s walks up saying help. That's a terrifying situation. And I probably would have done the same. I can't blame you for that. That's very weird, very creepy, very scary.

I'm glad you got out alive, but yeah, was there any reports for, you know, a dead woman or person in your town or area? And to be honest, you probably should have reported it because if you didn't kill her, why didn't you report it? I mean, people could have thought, but, you know, it would have been disproven. That's very weird. Please send me an update email. If you can answer any of those questions, I'm very curious to, you know, here. But don't visit the Appalachians. I don't like to use the term Skinwalker to describe the Hellspon that wander the Appalachian Mountains. I say this because the only people that believe in Skinwalkers are the ones who have actually seen them.

I sure as hell didn't believe in any such thing until about two weeks ago. The Appalachian Mountains had always been a place that I wanted to visit. The pictures on Google were enough for me. The place is fucking beautiful. I'd heard a few stories about Skimwalkers roaming around the mountains during the night, which just made it all of them more interest. So I saved up some money, rented a cabin, and flew out here to experience the mountain lifestyle for a couple of weeks. The first few days were completely normal.

I'd gotten settled in and felt completely fine. Hiking some surrounding trails is all that I can recall for the first three or four days. It was only that fifth day that everything began going to shit. The cabin that I had rented had two big floodlights facing the backyard. Every night of coyote would walk past my cabin causing the lights to turn on. I thought nothing of it. It was honestly kind of cute. On the fifth night of my stay, I was sitting in the living room watching some satellite TV.

In the corner of my eye, I saw the floodlights flicker on. I jumped up to go to see my new coyote friend through the window. Let's just say that whatever caused my floodlights to turn on that night was not a fucking coyote. Its body looked normal, except for the legs. The legs were extremely long and skinny, probably three times longer than any normal coyote. The thing just stared at me. My fight or flight didn't kick in. All I could do was stare back into its empty eyes.

This creature then let out the loudest, most blood-curdling scream I've ever heard, then got even closer to the window. I turned around to grab my phone so I could call the police. As I was walking to the couch, the floodlights turned off. The soft glow of the old TV screen was the only lighting in the living room. I grabbed my phone and sprinted upstairs to my room. My first instinct was to hide in the closet. So I did just that.

The closet doors had little slits in them so I could kind of see what was going on that side. I picked up my phone and tried to call the police. There was one slight problem, though. My phone was dead. It was around this point that I heard knocking coming from my front door. The knocking continued for what felt like an hour. I literally had no idea what to do, so I just sat there, hoping that it would stop. It eventually did stop, but shortly after, I heard the door open. No kicking the door in or anything. It just opened. I started to the door. I started to to cry. I could hear faint footsteps getting louder and faster as it went up the stairs. It eventually got to my room, or I thought I was dead for sure. I could hear it opening drawers and messing with

my bed sheets. I peered through one of the slits in the door, but I couldn't really see anything. That was, until the creature put its disgusting, rotting face, right up against a door. It was breathing so loudly that I was hurting my ears. I pushed myself back into a corner and used one of my jackets to cover me. It was my last option. I didn't know how long I sat there, but it felt like an eternity. I eventually peaked out from behind my jackets to see some light coming through the doors. I stood up and looked out. It was daytime. I couldn't hear the creature anymore. I assumed that it got spooked by the sunlight and left. I slowly opened my closet door. If it was finally safe. Needless to say, I got the fuck out of there. I'm never going again. I don't want to see

a therapist because they won't believe me. They'll think I'm insane. Maybe I am insane, I don't know. All I know is that whatever the locals of the Appalachian Mountains talk about these things, they aren't lying. Skinwalker Stories from the Past This is a story my family told me when I was growing up. We live in a rural community on the Navajo Reservation. My aunts and her two brothers were home alone while grandparents had left for the evening

to attend a chapter house meeting. They were in the house and, like many people from the reservation, they didn't have electricity. It had been dark outside for an hour, and my aunt and my uncles were getting ready for bed. Outside, they heard noises, as if someone was moving things around outside. My oldest uncle went to look out the front window and saw a figure out by the truck. This was immensely out of the ordinary because the closest neighbor was miles away. Whatever it was, I opened the truck door and began to dig through the personal items that my family had left in the vehicle.

My aunt and uncles were frightened by the sight and knew that they should have taken action. They took out the rifle and all steadyed themselves to hold it up. They flung open the door and aimed the gun of the figure. The figure turned and started to walk towards them, totally unfazed by the weapon. My uncle pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The figure drew closer. My aunt began to smell something like a rotting corpse. It was so strong it made her gag.

My uncle continued to pull the trigger with no luck, and the figure came closer and closer. Often the distance headlights were coming up the road. My grandparents were returning. The figure looked towards the light and started to move away and tucked itself by behind a tree near the house. My oldest uncle ran towards the truck with a weapon. My grandfather ran into the house and over to the stove grabbed a handful of ashes and rubbed over the gun and placed an ash-covered bullet into the chamber.

He walked out into the porch and fired towards the tree. Whatever that thing was, didn't expect the gun to go off. The gunshot echoed and the dark figure began running. My grandma chased my aunt inside and my uncles and my grandfather went after it. There weren't many roads or paths, so as my grandfather My grandfather and uncles chased after the figure, the truck was bouncing and the headlights were not fixed on one particular spot. My uncle swears that when even the headlights would hit the figure, he saw a woman. Not only that, whoever it was, running on all fours like a bear.

My grandfather eventually stopped the truck and, as they neared the ditch that drops about 20 feet, he got out and began to yell on Navajo. My uncle says he was yelling about a local woman. He yelled that he wasn't scared and that he knew it was her and to leave his family. alone. A few days passed and there was news that the woman that my grandfather was yelling about had passed. I've always been told that if you know who the Skimwalker is, say their name, and it will kill them. We rented a cabin in the woods near a small town in Kentucky. The locals warned us not to arrive after dark, written by After Meyer. Damn it, Olivia, it's 4 p.m. We were supposed to leave

three hours ago. I said angrily, holding the phone to my ear and packing the last suitcase into the car. I know there's nothing I can do about it now. I was supposed to stop by the office for two hours to help the girls with a few things because there are a lot of clients. And my boss kept piling more work on me. I can't say no. You know we need the money, she said in a raised voice. Then added after a moment, I'm finishing up now. I'll be home in 30 minutes at the latest. Pack the car. I'll get back and we can go. I hung up. It wasn't the first time her boss had made her come into work, even on her day off. She worked at an insurance company, and they always had problems finding employees. Olivia agreed to it, and even though it irritated me, I kept quiet because she was the one mainly supporting us. She made really

good money. I'm a graphic designer. I pick up jobs that are becoming fewer and fewer every year. While I fight competition and the rise of artificial intelligence by offering rates that sometimes translate into less than minimum wage. This trip was our dream honeymoon, delayed over and over again. We got married over a month ago, but because of work, we had already postponed the trip several times. We agreed together that we simply wanted to go somewhere where we would have peace from people, technology, and could focus only on each other and resting. So I found us a cabin in the woods near the town of Pineville, Kentucky. It was beautiful. Nothing around it but forest, silence, and peace. And if we needed anything, we had about two miles to town, where there were local

shops. 40 minutes passed and Olivia still wasn't there. I dialed her number again. Are you on your way back? Damn it, that's like a four-hour drive. We're going to arrive at night, I said. Losing the last little bit of my patience. Yes, Liam, I'm just leaving the office. I'll be there in 15 minutes. Did you call the owner to let her know we'll be this late? She asked, clearly irritated. I hesitated, but after a moment I answered. Of course I called. Everything is arranged.

Good. Let's not argue. I'll be home soon. I love you, she said, and hung up. A chill ran down my back. In all these stress and chaos, I had forgotten to call Miss Sophia. In theory, we were supposed to be there in 20 minutes to pick up the keys. How was I supposed to tell her that we were only just leaving? I started pacing around the living room and panic.

You can do this, Liam. She's just an old lady. Worst case, she yells at you. I said to myself, trying to build myself up. She won't cancel the reservation. The cabin is already paid for. I continued my monologue. All right.

I'm calling. Good afternoon, Miss Sophia. I said a little too enthusiastically. After a moment of silence, The old woman's voice came through the phone. Hello. Are you already there? You see, there's a situation.

My wife got held up at work. We're only just leaving. I said uncertainly. Sir, you told me you had a four-hour drive. It'll be after ten by the time you get there. Why are you only calling me now? I'll already be asleep. I don't leave the house after dark.

The old woman said dryly, irritated, and I felt my hands start to sweat. I'm very sorry, ma'am. With all the stress and confusion, I forgot to call earlier. We'll try to get there as quickly as possible. A long silence followed, and I sat there on pins and needles. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Hello, Mrs. Sophia, are you there? I'm here.

Come tomorrow morning. The old woman answered firmly. Please have mercy. It's our honeymoon. We only have one week off. Every hour is worth its waiting goal to us. I said in a pleading tone. After another pause, she spoke.

It would be better for you if you came in the morning, but if that's what you want, I'll leave the key on the porch. Take it, and when you're done with your stay, please leave it in the same place. place. Thank you so much. You're really saving me. I stopped mid-sentence, realizing the old woman had hung up. I sighed with relief. I knew the cabin owner would be angry, but I didn't expect her to take offense to that extent. Older people are naturally punctual, and apparently that really got under

her skin. The doorbell rang, and I nearly jumped, suddenly pulled out of my thoughts. Olivia had arrived, finally. On my way to the door, I thought how good it was that I had managed to handle it before she got back. If she found out I hadn't done it earlier, I would have listened the whole drive to her going on and on about how I rushed her, how I didn't take care of such an important thing, how I lied to her, and who knows what else. So, are we going, I asked, opening the door? Olivia looked at me with a wide smile and answered playfully. I still have to pee. She seemed very excited. We set off. The drive from Cincinnati to Pineville is about 220 miles, which is roughly a four-hour drive. The route went by pretty quickly. We talked trash

about Olivia's boss, laughed, joked around. We were simply enjoying free time and the lack of pressure from responsibilities the next day. We should be there in 20 minutes. I can't wait until we arrive, drink some wine and get into bed, I said, grinning from ear to ear. After a moment, I added in a low, lively voice, you know, and I don't mean sleeping. Olivia giggled with the look of a little troublemaker and said, Stop it, you goof. What? It's our honeymoon, after all, I said. Looking at her?

What's wrong, I asked? Concerned? Olivia had a frightened expression. Wide eyes, and she was pale. After a moment, she answered. Liam? I think I saw something weird. I looked around.

What did you see? Where? By the road, it looked like someone was crouching. I think he was completely naked and amaciated. She said in a panic. She shoved her hands between her knees. I looked in the mirror. I saw nothing there except forest and darkness. Calm down, baby.

You must be exhausted. You imagined it. We're almost in Pineville. I'll grab the keys quickly and from there, it's only a few minutes to our cabin. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her head turn towards me. Damn it, Liam, that thing was looking at me.

I wrapped my hand around her and pulled her head against my chest. Maybe it was just some homeless guy or some sick animal. Don't worry, you're safe. She nodded in force a smile, but her eyes were still terrified. A moment later, we arrived at Miss Sophia's house. Wait there a second. I'll be right back, I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. I got out of the car and walked onto the property. The keys were lying on the porch with a cheap tourist keychain. I took them and made a step toward the car. Suddenly, from a dog house I hadn't

noticed earlier, a medium-sized dog burst out with a roar and charged straight at me. My heart jumped into my throat, and I started running. I barely managed to slam the car door shut behind me before the beast reached me. The dog pressed its front paws against the window, barking. I threw the car into reverse and backed out. Jesus, what was that? That old lady could warn me there was a dog on the property, I said, catching my breath. It clearly improved Olivia's mood. For the rest of the drive to the cabin, she giggled quietly to herself. We're here. Beautiful spot, I said. Turning off the engine and opening the door. Olivia got out right after me and added, and poorly lit. We took the suitcases and headed toward the

vacation cabin. Yeah, there really isn't much light here, I muttered, struggling with the bunch of keys and trying to aim for the keyhole. I managed. We went inside and the smell of Pinewood greeted us. The front door opened into a small hallway with a coat rack. On the right side, there was a kitchen made up of a piece of countertop and three cabinets beneath it. And on the left side, there was a large living room with a couch, a dining table, a fireplace, and stairs leading upstairs. Everything was done in a typical vacation cabin wooden style. I'm exhausted. We'll unpack tomorrow. Can you turn on the heat?

It's cold in here. Olivia said. Taking off her jacket. Sure, there should be instructions for us using the cabin on the counter, I said. Setting the suitcase against the wall. I picked up a small notebook and started reading. There were instructions for using the gas stove. Turning on hot water in the shower.

Information on where the breakers were. and at the end, instructions for heating the cabin. I started reading out loud. The cabin is heated only and exclusively by the fireplace. In the woodshed behind the cabin, there is an amount of wood matched to the number of nights booked. It must be chopped into smaller pieces. The small axe and chopping block are next to the woodshed.

I quickly scanned the fire starting instructions and read it out loud. heating the cabin takes two to three hours. Please do not leave the burning fireplace unattended. I froze. Good luck lighting it, Liam. Tonight you're sleeping downstairs so you can bravely guard the burning fireplace. Olivia said, irritated, dragging her suitcase upstairs. In Toronto, every arrival is a statement, and nothing says it better than this.

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At Real Canadian Superstore, when you're ready, we're ready, with a whole world and more. Shocked by that information, I took out my phone and opened the listing. But how only by fireplace? It says here there's electric heating and fireplace heating, I said, angrily. I looked out the window. There was no lighting around the cabin at all. How was I supposed to chop that damn wood in the dark? On top of that, it was 11 o'clock at night.

If I started the fireplace now, I wouldn't go to sleep until morning. I changed into sweatpants, laid down on the dusty fabric couch, and covered myself with an equally dusty blanket. I felt scratching in my nose and eyes. Beautiful. Tomorrow I'm calling that woman and demanding a partial refund, I said, closing my eyes. The next morning, I woke up to the sound of cabinets slamming and pots banging, coming from the kitchen. I opened my eyes and popped myself up on my elbows. Do you have to make that much noise? I asked.

Slowly getting up from the couch. Olivia, with a sour look on her face, continued taking her anger out on the kitchen equipment. And after a moment replied, well, how did that fireplace go? Not too great, I guess, because I woke up with a cold nose. Great place you picked. I theatrically tapped my finger against my forehead.

I opened the door and stepped outside. It was definitely warmer than inside. It was May, so the evenings were cold, and apparently nobody had heated this place since the beginning of the season, which left the cabin chilled through. I stretched slowly, looking around the property. I called Olivia, who came over after a moment with an offended expression. I hugged her and said, look how beautiful it is here. There's a fire pit, a grill, a big bench, forest all around, and instead of enjoying it, we're arguing for no reason. The listing said there was electric heating, so I'll call the owner in a second and ask, because maybe this fireplace thing is a mistake. I went back inside, opened by call history, and pressed the green call button. Good morning. Did you arrive? The old woman asked on the other side of the phone. Yes, we arrived, Miss Sophia. How do I turn on the electric heating? I asked. Electric heat. Didn't you read the instructions? There is no electric heat. There's the fireplace. Unless you mean hot water, then you just have to plug in the water heater in the bathroom,

she said calmly. Mrs. Sophia, the listing says there are two sources of heating for the cabin. fireplace and electric, I said angry. After a moment of silence, the old woman answered. Well, yes, electric for heating the water and fireplace for the cabin. Did you read the listing? In the additional information from the host, everything is explained. I switched the call to speaker and opened the listing. Sure enough, in the panel on the left side, there was a section labeled additional information.

and that information was included there. I didn't read that part, I said, defeated. Well, that's exactly how it is with you young people these days, all excited, don't read, and then you have complaints. In case you didn't read this part either, if you run out of wood assigned to you, you can buy more from me. She said bluntly, with a hint of malice in her voice, and hung up. I looked at my phone.

I felt he rushed to my head. When I talked to her for the first time, she was a kind, sweet old lady. After the payment, she had turned into a nasty old lady. I took three deep breaths, slowly letting the air out of my lungs. I wasn't going to let this trip be ruined. I walked over to Olivia, who was just finishing unpacking our things. Listen, I'm sorry, I checked the listing badly. In the details, it said the heating is all.

only by fireplace. Oh, well, it happened, so what are we doing? She asked. Maybe you could run into town and do a little shopping and I'll chop the wood in the meantime, I said, taking her hand. She smiled at me and said, that's a good idea. I'm hungry. Olivia drove toward town, and I stood there looking at the small stack of wood,

wondering how I was supposed to go about it. I said a piece on the chopping block, raised the axe over my head, and swung with all my strength. I missed. And the axe flew down with force, grazing the wood and landing in the ground millimeters from my foot. A cold sweat ran through me.

Damn, that was close, I thought. Stepping away from the place of my near tragedy to a safe distance. Suddenly I heard a voice from behind me. Hello, what are you doing here? An older gentleman was standing there, leaning on the handlebars of a bicycle. Good morning, I'm trying to chop some wood, I said. Embarrassed. He straightened up and said, amused.

First time chopping? You almost say goodbye to your leg. First time, I've never held an axe in my life, I said, walking toward him. The man leaned his bicycle against the fence and stepped onto the property. I'll show you on a few pieces out and do it. Thank you. I'm Liam, I said. Holding out my hand. James, he answered shortly. Returning the handshake and heading toward the woodshed. The man took the axe in his hand and said,

Listen, Liam, feet apart, aim a little past the center, hold the axe firmly and bring your whole body down. The movement should come from your knees. The axe cut through the air. splitting the piece of wood into two perfect halves. James looked over the axe blade, turning it in his hand as he spoke. This little axe is too small for those pieces of wood,

so you're going to struggle a little bit. Seriously, Sophia could invest a little here if she wants to rent this cabin out to people. Anyway, when did you get here? I looked at him, full of admiration. My wife and I, arrived last night. James looked me straight in the eyes and grew serious. At night, you arrived after dark? Yeah, that's just how it worked out, I answered. A little thrown off by his sudden change in

behavior. This whole time he had almost been smiling. And now that icy tone and serious face, the man set the axe down, stood up and walked towards his bicycle. I have to go. I wish you both luck. Thanks, I called after him, scratching my head. I took the axe in my hand and started chopping. James was right. His instructions made it so even I could do it relatively safely and effectively. What is it with them in arriving after dark?

First, Mrs. Sophia, now him. I wish you both luck. People here are really strange. I chopped the wood and stacked it next to the fireplace. Why isn't Olivia back yet, I thought? Looking at my phone? She had left over an hour ago. The town was only a few minutes away.

I opened my contacts and called her. At that same moment, I heard a vibration coming from the kitchen. She hadn't taken her phone. A strange shiver went through me, and I started to worry. I'll walk toward her. Worst case, we'll meet on the way. way. There's only one road leading here. I locked the door and started down the little road toward town. I had maybe taken 10 steps when I noticed a car approaching in the distance. I felt

relief. Well, great, she's coming back. She's going to make fun of me for worrying for no reason, I said, stopping and waving in her direction. She was driving a little too fast. Something was wrong. I looked closer and froze. The front was dented on the right side. The headlight was smashed and the fender was cracked. I started running toward her. She pulled up and got out without turning off the engine. I wanted a call.

I forgot to take my phone, she said, sobbing. I quickly wrapped my arms around her. Baby, what happened? I hit a tree, Liam. I saw him again, she said, trembling. A shock ran down my back. Are you hurt? Who did you see?

I asked. Looking at her, she didn't look injured, but she was completely shaken. She pressed herself, tied her against me. I want to go back to our house. We stood like that for a moment longer. Come on. For now we'll go back to the cabin. You tell me everything okay?

I said gently. She nodded and sat down in the passenger seat. The car must have hit the tree at an unlucky angle, which is why the outside damage was so visible, but probably not very hard, because the airbag hadn't gone off. I parked the car and we went inside. Olivia sat down on the couch without a word and stared at one point. In the meantime, I made tea and sat down beside her.

Baby, please, tell me what happened. What did you see? I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. She started speaking in a trembling voice. I was coming back from town. I was somewhere halfway along the road and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some kind of shadow between the trees. She sniffed and tears ran down her cheek. I thought it was some animal, but a little further down,

that thing suddenly appeared on the road. I saw it literally for a split second. It was crouched, unnaturally hunched over, and staring at me. I closed my eyes and hit the brakes. The car went into a tree. I was so scared. I wanted to call you. When I opened my eyes, there was nothing there.

I went cold. That thing again? What is going on here? Could these be hallucinations caused by too much stress and exhaustion? Finally looking for a way out, I thought, worried. Sweetheart, it must have been some animal, I said, trying to comfort her. But inside, I felt fear myself. Not because of some imaginary creature, but because I was worried about Olivia.

We sat like that for a while longer. I managed to convince her to stay, and I promised that if needed, I would be the one driving into town. Olivia needed this vacation. She had to rest, and I would do everything I could to make that happen. We ate breakfast and drank coffee outside.

To improve her mood, I told her about my adventure with the axe and the older man. I left out the ending, strange behavior, so I wouldn't stress her out more. I even managed to make her laugh a little. The day passed pretty quickly. It was genuinely pleasant. We spent most of it outside and joined the sun and the charm of the place. It was getting close to 6 p.m. and it slowly started getting dark. We went back inside. Olivia started making dinner, and I lit the fireplace and took out the wine glasses. The previous evening hadn't gone well. I hope this one would be different. We ate in a pleasant atmosphere, enjoying the wine and the warmth coming from the fireplace.

The fire slowly started dying down, so I suggested going to the bedroom. Olivia went to take a shower, and I sat on the couch, finishing the last sip from my glass. Unfortunately, the shower stall was too small for the two of us. After 15 minutes, She came out and a cloud of steam rolled out of the bathroom. I stepped into the shower base, turned on the water, and shouted, damn it with this cabin. A stream of cold water shot from the showerhead, pouring over my head in the rest of my body. The hot water must have run out, I thought, looking at the small electric water heater.

After my unplanned cold shower, I went up the wooden stairs and crossed into the bedroom. I looked at Olivia. She was lying on her side. I slowly lay down beside her and realized she was asleep. I was a little disappointed. I had hoped for a somewhat more intimate evening, but I understood she had to be exhausted. She had gone through a lot of stress and emotions today.

I put my head on the pillow and fell asleep. I woke up with a dry, slightly scratchy feeling in my throat. I slowly opened my eyes and sleepily glanced toward the window. It was dark outside. I need to drink some water. I must have made the fireplace too hot and dried out the air, I thought. Glancing out my phone. 3.40.

I looked toward the others out of the bed. The place where Olivia had been sleeping was empty. Maybe she went to the bathroom or also went to get something to drink, I thought. But I felt that something was wrong. It was too quiet. I sat still for a moment. A huge wave of anxiety passed through me, and I felt my stomach tighten. I couldn't hear any footsteps or any other sounds.

I quickly got out of bed and went downstairs. Standing halfway down the stairs, I froze, and my heart beat harder. The door to the outside was open, and Olivia was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed the handle and yanked it much harder than I should have. The door slammed against the inside wall of the cabin, leaving a large dent. I ran outside. My skin crawling and suffocating weight on my chest. My heart was pounding like crazy.

Olivia! I screamed with all my might. My voice tearing through my throat like sandpaper. The echo carried into the woods, dying out in the distance. I turned on my phone's flashlight and ran around the property. Olivia was nowhere. I caught my breath and screamed Olivia again. I never felt fear like this.

My stomach was in knots, and every beat of my heart felt like it was going to burst through my ribs. Where is she? Why did she just disappear, and where the hell is she? I looked around frantically, trying to wrap my head around it. The car was right there, so she didn't drive off. Where the hell is she? Panic was choking me, and my breathing got fast and shallow. Circling the property a second time, I noticed the gate was open.

I ran through it, lighting the way with my phone. Running forward, I felt cold sand under my bare feet, and small rocks dug into my skin, cutting me. The air was cold and damp, scratching my lungs with every inhale. I looked around for any kind of trail, anything that could show me where to go. Darkness and tree silhouettes were everywhere. All I could hear was the rustle of the woods, insects, and the thumping in my temples. I ran about half a mile.

My lungs were burning like fire. I had to slow down to a jog. My hands were shaking, and I felt completely hopeless. My head was empty, except for one question. Did I lose her forever? Suddenly, from my right, I heard a very faint sound. I strained to listen. I heard my name.

I wasn't sure if it was real or if I was just going crazy. I didn't care and ran straight into the trees. Branches snapped and scratched my arms and legs. I ignored the pain, only finding her mattered. The sound grew. I was getting closer. I ran, pushing through trees and brush. I heard a quiet sob and a sharp jolt

went through my whole body. It had to be her. I sped up, reached a fallen log, and jumped over it. I froze, and my heart stopped with me for a split second. Something was lying under the tree. Olivia. She was in just her pajamas. Her arms and legs all scratched up.

She had sand and dirt in her hair. I started to shake. My legs went soft. Olivia, I screamed, running towards her. I hugged her tight. It's okay, honey. What happened? What are you doing out here?

The adrenaline crashed. And tears fell from my eyes. A mix of everything hit me. Fear, relief, anger, all of it. I held her as hot as I could repeating. It's okay. I found you. It's okay now.

We stayed like that in silence until she finally spoke. Liam, I don't know what happened. I woke up, opened my eyes, and I was already here. I think it only just hit her that I was there because she squeezed me back. I felt the warmth of her body and with it a massive wave of relief. She continued. Head tucked against my chest. I called for you. I called for help, but nobody came. I was here all alone. I'm cold. Please, let's just go.

Another wave of tears hit me, dripping on her head. I held her like she was the most precious thing in the world. I couldn't stop. She was so terrified and helpless. The side of her was breaking my heart. It hit me how much I loved her. If I lost her, I would lose myself too. I took off my shirt and covered her back. It's okay. Let's go. We're almost there. When I grabbed her arm, I felt how cold she was, usually silky, soft, and warm. Now she was rough from the wounds and dirt. Even though I wanted to know what happened, I didn't ask. I saw that she was terrified and lost.

We walked in complete silence, broken only by her quiet sobbing. When we returned, we sat at the table. I immediately wrapped her in a blanket. Now in the light, I saw her clearly. She was pale and covered in dirt, and her body was full of small wounds and... What is this, I asked? Shocked, pointing at her leg. I don't know, but it hurts a lot, she answered quietly.

Sniffling. On her leg was a massive red mark wrapping around her entire calf. I knelt and looked at it closely. Cold sweats rolled down my forehead. head. Four thin marks spaced almost perfectly apart looked like fingers. It's impossible. They're too thin and too long for a human hand. It's probably from branches. They must have wrapped around your leg, I said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. I put on water for tea, trying to make things feel normal. Olivia didn't answer. She sat motionless, staring blankly at the

corner of the table. I added after a moment, Honey, you probably sleepwalked. She lifted her head and looked at me. Her eyes full of anger and disbelief. Liam, I have never sleepwalked

in my life and what the hell was I doing a mile into the woods for God's sakes, she asked. Her voice rising. I put the bags into the mugs staring at the kettle. I didn't know what to say. She was right.

I'd never seen her sleepwalk. I'd never heard of sleepwalkers doing that. I walked over and looked deep into her eyes. Listen, honey, we haven't had a vacation in years. We're under constant stress, work, sleep, that's it. Maybe now that your body is resting, it's all coming out. In a few days, once you get some real rest, Everything will go back to normal, I promise.

Maybe, she said, trembling. Then added as she stood up, I'm going to take a shower. I feel disgusting. I stared blankly at the bathroom door. Even though she was safe, I couldn't calm down. I felt a knot in my stomach. The stress wasn't letting go. What should we do?

Go back home or stay here. I'm almost certain she needs this vacation. that she needs to just rest, I'm sure once she relaxes, everything will work out. I kept telling myself that. I took the hot tea and sat on the couch. Now that the emotions were fading, I felt the sting from the cuts on my legs.

There were so many. Most were shallow, but the ones on my feet were deep. After a moment, Olivia came out of the bathroom and asked, Liam, are we going to bed? Go ahead, honey. I'll join you in a second. I just, I just need to get it together. I said with a forced smile. She ignored it and went upstairs. I watched my feet, took tweezers, and started pulling out splinters and pebbles. There were so many of them. I started to get drowsy. Everything was blurring.

I leaned my head back and sank into it. Pain shot through my neck. Damn. I fell asleep sitting up. I slowly opened my eyes and my heart beat harder. A heavy sense of wrong washed over me. It's too quiet. I look sharply toward the door and a jolt went through my neck again. It was light outside and Olivia always woke before me. I thought, bolting to my feet, panic hit me. I grabbed the handle. The door was locked. I ran quickly up the stairs. I ran quickly up the stairs. standing outside the bedroom I heard quiet snoring. I felt relief. She was there sleeping safe and sound. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and checked the time. It was 8 a.m. I had slept maybe two hours. I was wired. No way I'm sleeping now. My body was in full fight or flight mode. My heart rate was closer to a CrossFit workout than a resting state. On shaky legs, I went downstairs and put coffee. Holding the spoon, I noticed my hands were shaking. I took the hot mug and went out on the porch, leaving the door open. Warm sunlight hit my face. Outside, only the birds in a gentle breeze.

It looked completely normal, like nothing happened last night. But it still didn't sit right with me. What happened in the night was wrong. The thought sent a cold shiver through me. How did she end up all the way out there? I sat there for two hours, stuck in my own head. What really happened? What should we do? A strange sound from upstairs snapped me out of it. It sounded like one long dragging a scrape of something hard against wood. At first I thought mouse or squirrel, but it was different.

It resonated. It was too clear and too loud for a small piece. pest. It's probably the roof, temperature change. It was cold last night, now the sun's out, the logs are expanding, I'm just tired. My senses are off, I thought. I poured another coffee and went back to the porch to enjoy the silence. I sat down and suddenly I heard a voice right behind me. I almost jumped, spilling boiling water over my legs. A sharp burning pain hit my thigh and my cut feet. Did you make coffee for me too? It was Olivia.

I looked at her, writhed in and pulling off my pants with the hot stain. Damn, how did you sneak up on me like that? I said, wiping tears from my face. I tossed my wet pajama pants aside and froze. How did she come down so quietly? These are wooden stairs. You can hear a creek from a mile away. I smelled the coffee and came down, she said, staring out toward the woods. Heat rushed to my head. I was pissed and my leg was already turning red.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. I forced myself to calm down. How are you feeling? Fine, she replied, heading toward the kitchen. I watched her and unease replaced the anger. She was moving weirdly. Her back was stiff and straight and she was walking on our tiptoes. I followed her.

Olivia, are you sure everything's okay? I was waiting for you to wake up. We need to decide. Are we staying or going back? Let's stay. Like you said, Liam, it's probably stressed, she said, without looking at me. Something was wrong. I stepped closer and looked at her.

She was too calm, too quiet. Usually, everything shows on her face. She laughs or yells or cries. She never acts like this. Cold. Flat. I hugged her waist and pulled her to me. Honey, are you sure everything's okay?

You're acting strange. Are you sure you want to stay here? She turned her head toward me and I froze. For the first time that morning, she looked me in the eyes and said coldly, Yes, Liam. I backed away. In her eyes, I was.

I saw a strange white void. I saw it for literally a split second. Then her look went back to normal. A sudden spike of fear made my heart ache. I must have imagined it. Exhaustion and stress. I'll have to sleep during the day, I thought, going upstairs. Okay, if that's what you want, honey,

I'll go chop some wood for tonight, I said loudly. I put on a track suit, ran down the stairs, and went outside. going out I glanced toward the kitchen. Olivia was standing there, staring at her mug, completely ignoring me. I took the axe, set a log on the stump, and swung with everything I had. The wood split clean in two. Better than last time, I thought, and stood there looking at my work.

Suddenly, a voice from the fence snapped me out of it. Looks like you've learned already. I smiled. I really like James. He always had this warmth and confidence. I walked over. I had a good teacher. We shook hands.

Legs are fine from what I see. So why the limp, he asked, smiling. I felt a chill on my neck. Yeah, I went outside barefoot, got some splinters. James laughed. Barefoot, you really are new to the woods. Why would you do that? I ignored the question.

I didn't want to go there. Listen, how about a breakfast with us? As a thank you, I asked. James walked through the gate. I've already had breakfast, but I won't say no to coffee. Halfway there, I called out. Honey, make some coffee. James is here.

For a second, things felt normal again. Olivia stood in the doorway, and I said, James, this is my wife, Olivia. I looked at the side and realized I was talking to myself. I turned around. James was frozen halfway down the path, staring at the porch. He went pale. His warm gaze was gone, replaced by fear.

James? I asked. He took a few steps back. Damn, sorry, I got to run, he said. Then walked off fast toward the exit. At the gate, he stopped. I'm sorry, really. Then he was gone. The shock tightened my throat.

I looked at Olivia. She just walked inside. Indifferent. Like nothing happened. I felt a squeeze in my stomach. I just stood there, trying to make sense of it. James left like that before.

Maybe it's his age. Maybe he remembered something. And Olivia, she went through a trauma, woke up alone in the woods. Of course, she's not normal. I need to be a man and supporter, I thought, and headed inside. She was sitting on the couch with a mug of cold coffee, staring at the stairs. I sat next to her.

Honey, is everything okay? She took a sip. Liam, I already said. She said it with no emotion. just a resonant drawl at the end. The way she said it made the hairs on my neck stand up. I didn't know what to do. I felt helpless.

Like, I was about to go crazy. I stood up and went out. Get it together, Liam, I muttered on the porch. I started pacing. She says she's fine, but there's no way she's fine. We'll wait until tomorrow. If it's not better, we're leaving. psychologist, psychiatrist, whatever.

My thoughts were racing, mixing with the exhaustion. It felt surreal. Like my body wasn't mine anymore. I was moving, but it didn't feel like me. I needed to do something normal, so I went back to chopping wood. It took half the day, and every hour I felt the tension falling off. I stacked wood by the fireplace and put the rest in the woodshed, I went back inside and Olivia was nowhere.

I looked up. She probably went to lie down. I went to the fireplace and started stacking. My stomach growled. I hadn't even eaten breakfast today. Let her sleep. I'll make lunch. I'll wake her when it's ready.

I prepared the food and went outside. I lit the grill. Soon, the smell of meat and spices filled the air. My mouth started watering. Now I just had to wake Olivia, I thought, heading inside. I went to the stairs and called out. Honey, come down. Lunch is ready.

Hollow silence. An ease shot through me. I ran upstairs, two steps at a time, and looked at the bed. Olivia was on her side. Back to the door. Dread shook my whole body. Olivia? I asked.

Silence. I walked slowly around the bed. She wasn't moving. Eyes closed. I went pale, holding my breath. Then I saw it. The calm movement. She was breathing.

I nudged her shoulder. Hey, you, uh, you come in to eat? No reaction. I stood there tense. She must be exhausted. I walked around on my tiptoes. I'd just put the meat in the fridge and make it fresh later. For now, I'll let her rest.

I sat and waited, hoping she'd join me, hoping she'd come out with the smile and say, what smells so good, or even be mad that I didn't wake her. But nothing. I lost my appetite. The grill went out. The meat went cold.

A chill ran through me. It was almost 7 p.m. The sun was setting. It was cold. I went in to light the fire. Time passed, I kept checking on her, then dozing off. By the time I finished my fifth tea, I checked my phone. 11.41 p.m.

I could barely keep my eyes open. My skin hurt from the chills. Even with the fire, I was cold. I took a hot shower and went up. On shaky legs, I laid down next to her. I wrapped my arm around her and passed down. Then an inhuman guttural scream filled the room. I shot up, gasping for air.

My heart was beating so hard, it felt like it was tearing through my ribs. It was Olivia. She was screaming like someone was skinning her alive. Her face twisted in absolute horror. Her eyes were so wide, I only saw the whites. She was sitting up, pointing at the corner. shaking and screaming. I started to shake.

Heat flooded me. I felt primal fear. The worst I'd ever felt. I tried to speak, but my throat locked. I couldn't even swallow spit. The only sound I made was a quiet squeak. I looked where she was pointing and jumped back against the wall. In the dark, I saw a thin, tall silhouette.

I fumbled for the light, and when I hit it, everything went quiet. Olivia collapsed, unconscious. The shadow was gone. On the wall, only one thing remained. Four perfectly parallel gouges. I don't remember how we got to the car. I felt like I was trapped inside some horrible dream. A nightmare.

I left everything behind. Keys closed. phone, wallet, I picked Olivia up in my arms, unconscious. In a moment later, we are already on the road. She was in the back seat, and I was in the front with my shaking hands, gripping the steering wheel. Normally, this would have been a real feat for me, almost physically impossible, but after what I saw in that cabin, the adrenaline in my veins did everything for me. The pounding in my head felt like it was trying to split my temples apart.

Hundreds of chaotic questions and thoughts were bombarding my brain. What the hell was that? Olivia had been screaming at the top of her lungs like she was possessed, in some inhuman, agonizing voice. It was the first time in my life I'd ever heard something that terrifying. And what was that shadow in the corner of the room? It looked like some kind of silhouette, a twisted caricature of some human or animal.

And more than anything, where the hell do those marks carved into the wall come from? They hadn't been there just a few hours earlier. A moment later, I realized I had driven into Pineville. I pulled into somebody's driveway and got out of the car without even turning off the engine. The freezing night air hit me instantly. Absolute silence surrounded me. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears and the deep pounding of my heartbeat. No lights, no people, no sounds, no signs of life.

At that hour, the town felt almost abandoned. The only thing saying otherwise being the well-kept yards and cars parked in driveways, I quickly walked to the back door of the car and opened it. A drop of cold sweat rolled down my car. forehead. I looked at Olivia. She was lying motionless in the back seat. I gently placed two fingers against her neck and checked for a pulse. It was there and it was way too fast. I tried waking her up. Baby, are you okay, I said, gently shaking her shoulder. She didn't react. I started begging her to wake up to at least open her eyes, but she was completely unconscious.

My throat went dry, and a crushing feeling of helplessness hit me. My legs suddenly felt weak. I dropped my knees beside the car, and tears started streaming down my face. If only I had listened to her. If we had turned back when she begged me to, none of this would have happened. Why was I so blind? Why didn't I believe her when she said she saw that thing? Did I really want what was best for her, or?

Was I just a selfish bastard? I screamed. Slamming my fist into the side of the car. I covered my face with my hand. I started sobbing, gasping for air. I couldn't stop. I cried like a little kid watching someone take the one thing he loved most and crush up beneath their foot right in front of him. Sadness, helplessness, and panic turned into aggression. A wave of rage flooded through me and I completely lost control. I kept punching the car over and over and over again, and blood started dripping from my knuckles. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. A curtain in the house whose driveway we were parked in slowly fell back into place.

Help, I screamed, waving my arms like a castaway stranded on some deserted island. I started jumping without stopping. Call the police. Call an ambulance. I stood there holding my breath, staring at the window and listening. Nothing. I looked around and screamed again. People, please help us!

My voice carried far into the surrounding houses and woods. Not a single light came on. I dropped my knees again, staring blankly ahead. A tingling sensation crawled down my spine. Why doesn't anybody want to help us? What the hell is happening here? Nobody comes outside after dark. They obviously know something.

Why didn't anyone warn us that whatever this thing is, it only comes out at night? Then it hit me, James and Mrs. Sophia. I stood up and got back into the car. I placed my hands on the steering wheel and felt a sharp pain in my fists. I looked down. The skin across my knuckles was torn open. I ignored it. I slammed my foot on the gas and drove toward Mrs. Sophia's house.

As I drove, I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, hoping Olivia would wake up. But she just laid there, stiff in the back seat, showing no signs of life. The only thing calming me down was the sight of her chest rising and falling. I pulled into Mrs. Sophia's driveway. I killed the engine, opened the door, and ran toward the front. porch, just like I expected. Total darkness inside and all around the house. Halfway there, I suddenly froze. I remembered that the last time I was here, that old woman's aggressive dog had almost gotten me. I stood there, motionless, my stomach twisting into knots,

waiting for the attack. Slowly I turned my head toward the doghouse. No movement, no barking. I crouched down and looked inside. It seemed empty. Maybe she bought the dog inside the house. I ran to the front door knocked. I held my breath, listening for any sounds from the inside, but all I got back was silence. A chill ran through my entire body. If the dog was inside, I'd hear him by now.

I thought, knocking again. Then I started pounding on the door with my fist as hard as I could. Hello, Mrs. Sophia, please, open the door, I shouted, hitting harder and harder. Every punch sent a wave of pain through my hand and left another smear of blood behind. The old wooden door practically jumped on its hinges. I'm not giving up, I thought. For Olivia, I need to find out what the hell is going on. I ran around the property, looking through every window, and with every single one, I could

feel the knot in my stomach tightening. Through the gaps in the curtains, I could see the house was almost empty. Inside, there were only a few large pieces of furniture, but all the normal things that prove somebody actually lives there were missing. No kitchen utensils, no rugs, no books, no decorations on the shelves. There wasn't even a couch in the living room. I stood in the front of the porch, staring at the front door like I was a lot of the house. I was hypnotized.

What the hell is going on here? Did the old woman leave, I thought? Suddenly, I heard a muffled pounding against glass coming from the car. I spun around. It was Olivia. She was looking around in terror, tears in her eyes. She was crying for help. I took off running and sprinted back to the car.

I yanked open the rear door. Liam, where am I? she said, stuttering. I wrapped my arms around her. Baby, everything's okay. You're in the car. Don't be scared. You're safe. I looked at her. And a wave of fear ran through me. Her pupils were unnaturally wide. She was completely pale, with dark circles under her eyes like she hadn't slept in a week. Liam, I'm scared. Why are we here? She said in a panicked voice, digging her nails into my shoulder. I grabbed her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.

eyes. It's okay, baby. We're going home. Everything's okay. I hugged her again, and that seemed to calm her down, at least a little. I got back into the car and we drove off. I wanted to take her to the hospital, but Olivia kept begging me to take her home. Liam, please, I just want to lie down in our bedroom, in our bed, please. That was the answer to every argument I made. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to tell a hospital, some strange. creature attacked my wife during our honeymoon. I saw it too. They'd lock us both in a psych ward, I thought. So I agreed to drive us straight home. If she didn't feel better by tomorrow, we'd go straight to the hospital. During the drive, I felt non-stop, growing tension throughout

my entire body. I kept looking around, checking if that thing was following us, if it would suddenly appear on the side of the road or in my rearview mirror. I asked Olivia if she remembered what happened. I had a horrible, terrible nightmare. I was so scared. I don't remember it exactly, but I know something really bad happened in it, she answered, curling up. After a long pause, I looked over at Olivia. She had fallen asleep.

We were almost at the exact stretch of road where she at first saw that thing. I could feel panic taking over my body, like I was. I was wearing a ticking bomb whose timer was about to hit zero. We were getting closer to that place. Closer and closer. Sweat started rolling down my forehead. One drop after another. I prayed we'd get through that stretch as fast as possible.

I prayed that thing wouldn't show up. Just one more mile, I thought, holding my breath. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, look toward the shoulder and a massive wave of relief hit me. I gasped for air and finally relaxed. There was nothing there. We were safe.

The nightmare was over. The rest of the drive went by fast, and I spent most of it fighting my heavy drooping eyelids. I pulled into our driveway and killed the engine. Olivia was still asleep. The dashboard clock read 6.30 a.m. The sun was coming up, flooding everything with warm morning light.

I stepped out of the car and a strange mix of relief and that familiar feeling of finally being back somewhere safe washed over me. I'll unlock the house and carry Olivia inside. Let her sleep, I thought, as I walked toward the front door. I slipped my hands into my pockets and froze. Shit. My keys were still back at that damn cabin.

Olivia's spare keys were at the neighbors. The Wests were the only family in the neighborhood that we knew, the kind of people we'd sometimes share dinner or a bottle of wine with. Whenever they were out of town, we'd watch their house, feed their fish, water their plants as a neighborly favor. This time, we asked them to do the same for us, but how the hell was I supposed to explain that? We came back days early and I didn't have the keys to my own house. I didn't have a choice. I walked over and rang the doorbell.

After a long moment, the door finally opened, and our neighbor stood in the doorway wearing a bathrobe. Her hair a complete mess. I felt heat rush into my face. Oh, Elena, hey, did I wake you up? Liam, you're already back? She said dryly, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She's definitely not happy, I thought. Yeah, Olivia wasn't feeling well.

I think she might have caught some kind of cold. Can I grab the keys, I said? Feeling the shame and embarrassment building inside of me. L&O walked back inside, clearly irritated. Liam, it's 6.30 a.m. Sunday. Couldn't this wait until at least eight? You know, this is the only day of the week we actually get to sleep in? She came back a moment later, stopped a few feet away from me,

held out the keys and added, and why exactly are you wearing pajamas? and wear your shoes. Liam, is everything okay? Sorry, I lost my keys. Olivia was feeling really bad, and we came back in a hurry, I said, staring down as I took the key.

A wave of heat flooded my face. I could feel my ears turning red and my breathing speeding up. In all of this, I had completely forgotten I wasn't wearing normal clothes. I'd run out of that house in a total panic with only Olivia in my arms. Elena frowned and looked at me uncertainly.

Oh my God, Liam. What happened to your hand? I quickly hid my hands behind my back. And a shock ran straight down my spine. I looked up for only a second and saw the expression on her face. Confusion. Concern. It's nothing.

Olivia's waiting. Gotta go. Bye. I said. Almost running back toward our house. I never heard the sound of her door closing. And I could still. feel her eyes on me. I panicked. You should have made something up, you idiots, I cursed at myself.

I unlocked the house and went back to the car for Olivia. As I picked her up, I could feel my arm shaking. I glanced nervously toward the West's house. Ellen was gone. She must have gone back inside. I'll explain it somehow later, I thought as I walked toward the house. I stepped through the front door and years of sitting behind a computer with zero exercise immediately made themselves known. As I climbed the stairs, my legs were burning, and my spine was begging for mercy. I finally made it to the bedroom and carefully walked toward the edge of the bed. Setting Olivia down went a lot less gracefully than I had planned. I lost my balance under her weight and fell onto her, face first into the blanket.

I quickly stood up and pulled my arms out from under her. her. Shit, I definitely woke her up, I thought. But Olivia didn't even twitch. Not even an eyelid. She had to have been completely exhausted. I pulled the blanket over her and walked downstairs. I locked the front door, walked into the kitchen, and set the coffee machine for a double espresso. The grinder kicked on and the kitchen filled with the smell of freshly ground beans. I grabbed a mug and sat down at the dining table. We're home. We're safe. It's over. I kept repeating it to myself as I took a sip of hot coffee and stared blankly at the corner of the table. I rubbed my tired eyes. Even with the dopamine hit from that familiar, comforting taste, the exhaustion was still cutting through.

My entire body felt unnaturally heavy. My hands were tingling, and my muscles kept twitching uncontrollably. All I wanted was to lie down next to Olivia, hold her, and fall asleep for a while. But I couldn't. Deep down, I still felt overwhelming dread. I felt like something bad could happen at any second. I was terrified I'd hear her scream again. Just remembering that sound sent a shock through my body. I remembered the look on her face. I squeezed my eyes shut. I tried thinking about something else, something good, but I just couldn't. I couldn't get that image out of my head. That sight wasn't human.

That terror in her eyes, like she had come face to face with death itself. The whole scene started replaying in my head over and over. That scream. The look on her face, that thing in the corner of the room, those claw marks on the wall. The emotions came rushing back with tension. times more force. I kept taking bigger and bigger breaths, but it felt like no air was actually reaching my lungs. My throat started tingling. Pressure rushed into my head, making the whole world spin. I was scared I was about to suffocate. I was scared I was about to die. I opened my hand,

swung with everything I had, and slapped myself hard across the face. The sound echoed through the entire kitchen, and I felt a wave of heat and dull pain. spread across my cheek. I placed both hands on the table and gasped greedily for air. My last panic attack was ten years ago. I don't have time for this right now. I need to start doing something, I thought. I pushed myself away from the table and finished the last sip of coffee.

I need to contact that old woman and find out what the hell is going on here, but how? My phone and Olivia's phone were both back in Pineville, and the only neighbors I could borrow one from already thought I was losing my mind. I need to just go out and buy something temporarily, I thought as I walked toward the bathroom. I took a quick shower and changed into normal clothes. I looked down at my hands, torn apart from punching the car. They burned and stung at the same time. I wrapped them in bandages and pulled on a pair, thin gloves I used to wear when I went running years ago.

The shower helped a little. Even though my body didn't seem to care about the caffeine at all, I felt at least a little fresher. I grabbed my car keys from the table, and that's when it hit me. Shit. My wallet, my cash, cards, my ID, they were all still back in that cursed cabin. What can you do, Liam?

Think, I muttered to myself angrily. Pacing around the living room, my eyes landed on the dresser. and suddenly it hit me. I grabbed my passport from the drawer. I'll go to my cell provider. They should be able to give me some kind of phone, I thought, and walked out. I had to do it fast. Olivia was home alone.

I drove to the store, got the cheapest phone possible on a payment plan, signed the paperwork, and got back into the car. Sitting behind the wheel, I opened the browser, and found Mrs. Sophia's cabin listing. I copied the number and called. After three long rings, she picked up. Hello? I heard that old woman's voice, and my throat went dry.

A sudden wave of aggression hit me. What the hell is going on here? What does all this mean? What's happening to my wife, I asked. Shocked by my own reaction. After the first question, I completely lost it. What's all this about not going outside after? dark. What the hell is that thing? Why aren't you home? You're going to explain all of this to me right now.

I kept screaming, spitting all over the steering wheel. Then I stopped, breathing heavily, waiting for any kind of reaction. After a moment of silence, she spoke. I warned you. I'm sorry, I warned you, but you didn't listen, and now it's too late. She hung up. I I slammed my fist into the steering wheel as hard as I could. The horn echoed across the parking lot and a wave of pain shot from my hand all the way up into my skull. I called again. Voicemail. God damn it, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Throwing the phone of the back seat. The old bitch blocked me. What the hell does it too late mean? I said. Slamming my hand against the door. I started the engine and tore out toward home with the tired. screaming. I parked in the driveway and grabbed the damaged phone from the back seat. I jumped out of the car, rushed through the front door, and flew upstairs to make sure Olivia was okay. She was sleeping

peacefully, exactly the way I had left her. Suddenly, a chill ran through me. I felt that strange, uneasy feeling again, and instinctively looked into every corner of the room. No claw marks anywhere. No shadows. Standing there, breathing hard, I looked down at the cracked screen of my new phone. The display read 10.47 a.m. I sat down on the bed next to Olivia. I can't do this anymore.

And collapsed onto the bed. I woke up to a long, scraping sound. Like somebody was dragging a rake across the roof. A violent shock shot through my body, and I jumped out of bed. I turned on the bedroom light. I looked around. Olivia was still asleep. Holy shit, I said.

Breathing heavily. My heart was pounding like crazy. A wave of fear spread through my entire body so hard it physically hurt. I felt weak. I dropped into a crouch and grabbed my chest. I felt like I was millimeters away from a heart attack. I froze there, fighting for. for every breath. I took a few slow deep breaths, slowly letting the air out. I carefully stood up

and turned off the light. I grabbed my phone and walked downstairs. I pressed the lock button and stared at the screen through half dead eyes. The number shimmered in my vision, but after a moment, I managed to read the time. 3.35 a.m. shit i slept through an entire day and half the night i put on my shoes and opened the front door rubbing my stiff neck i stepped outside what the hell was that sound did i dream it i had to know i walked around the house carefully checking every side of the roof nothing it had to be my exhausted fried brain playing tricks on me the cold night air started coming down my blood pressure in a lestowning a lot of Light chill spread across my skin.

I walked back inside and headed toward the kitchen. I walked up to the coffee machine and pressed the coffee icon. Then suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I flinched and took three quick steps back. Something moved across the backyard outside the window, unnaturally fast. My heart started pounding again. I stood there. staring at the glass like I was hypnotized.

Am I losing my mind, I thought, as I slowly stepped closer to the counter. Then suddenly, I heard knocking behind me on glass. A violent shock ran down my spine. My entire body locked up. Slowly I turned my head toward the living room. A drop of sweat rolled down my temple. I walked forward on shaking legs, moving slowly toward the window. A wave of fear wrapped around my body like a pressure chamber.

In the glass lit by the moonlight, I could see sharp, perfectly symmetrical dense, and tiny pieces of glass shimmered across the windowsill. They looked like they'd been made by something large and sharp with four blades. My hands started tingling, like thousands of needles were stabbing through them, and my fingers cold inward on their own. Standing there motionless, I suddenly realized. I hadn't been breathing for several seconds. I gasped for air and took a step back.

We need to get out of here, I thought. As I started toward the stairs, my body felt like it weighed a ton. I had to fight for every step, for every breath. My body kept jerking with violent spasms. I practically crawled upstairs on all fours, stepped into the bedroom, and froze. Olivia was lying in bed And above her Above her

I saw a twisted sickly thin silhouette Crouching there Its face only inches from hers The creature slowly turned its head toward me I wanted to scream But my throat felt locked shut in a vice I could feel my face twisting into pure terror

I couldn't do anything I couldn't even move. I just stood there staring at that thing. The pale, almost chalk white monster that slowly lifted one of its limbs, and I saw four long razor-sharp claws. I started stuttering, trying to catch my breath. I could see it was enjoying this. I could see it feeding on my fear.

I could even see that it found it funny. It looked straight into my eyes. I felt those eminent. empty milky white eyes boring into me, like they were sucking the soul out of me. It slowly lowered its limb without taking its eyes off me and gently rested it on Olivia's chest. Then it dragged those claws slowly down her body, leaving behind four red lines soaking through her pajamas. Adrenaline ripped through my body, overpowering the fear. I screamed, no, and charged straight at it. it. I saw nothing but a quick movement, a blur. And a split second later, I felt weightlessness,

then violent impact behind me. The hit came with no pain at all. I heard a crack, and then everything went black. I felt a dull pain in the back of my head, and my temples were throbbing with a splitting ache. I slowly peeled my feet. face off the hard, cold floor panels of our bedroom. A warm, red stream ran down my cheek and chin. What the hell is happening, I thought? Brazing my hands against the floor. A sharp piercing pain shot through my ribs and folded me in half. Carefully, I lifted myself up and looked around. Through my blurred vision, I noticed a crimson puddle beneath my feet. Holding my ribs, I turned around and froze. Red stains shimmered across the empty bed. The sheets were torn apart,

and deep, perfectly symmetrical, four marks have been carved into the walls. The memory of what had happened struck my mind like lightning. Olivia I screamed, and a tearing pain in my stomach dropped me to one knee. Slowly I got to my feet and staggered downstairs. My phone was sitting on the kitchen table. I lunged for it, ignoring another wave of pain. I punched in the number and held it to my ear, feeling the room spin around me. A voice came through the phone. 911.

What's your emergency? That thing took my wife, please help me, save her. I screamed into the phone as tears rolled down my cheek. Sir, I need you to calm down and talk. tell me your address. Where are you? The dispatcher said firmly. My mind went blank. My stomach lurched into my throat and the world started spinning around me. Sir, are you still there? I need your address. Hello? I heard the voice in the distance. I moved my leg and realized I was lying on a soft mattress, covered by a blanket. In the background, I heard the steady beeping of a monitor.

I slowly opened my eyes. I was in a hospital. Well, good morning. You're finally awake. Do you know where you are? A smiling nurse asked. Where's Olivia? Where's my wife, I asked.

Sitting up abruptly. And pain instantly stole the air from my lungs. The smile vanished from her face and was replaced with sympathy. Easy. You have three broken ribs. Your wife isn't here. The police are here and they've been wanting to talk to you. How long have I been here?

Did they find my wife, I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed? The nurse stepped closer. Her face suddenly serious and said, You need to lie back down. Your injuries are severe. You've been asleep for almost two days. Jesus Christ, I muttered. Getting to my feet and ripping the monitoring leads off my chest,

the machine let out one long, continuous. tone. The nurse grabbed my wrists and shouted, What are you doing? Calm down and get back in bed. I tried to pull away. I couldn't be here. I had to find Olivia. Suddenly, the door opened and a middle-aged man stepped into the room. Liam, sit down. We need to talk, he said. And his rough, low voice filled the room. There was something about him that made me obey without hesitation. And I sat back down in bed. The nurse stormed out of the room, clearly pissed. I looked up at him.

He looked about 45, with a scruffy beard and tired, irritated eyes. He took a few steps towards the bed and I caught the smell of cigarette smoke. My name is Detective Carter, he said, pulling out a small notebook. Snap out of my days, I shouted. You found my wife? You, uh, what happened to Olivia? Calm down. We haven't found her yet.

I need more details from you. The paramedics found you unconscious at the table with head trauma and broken ribs. What happened? He asked calmly. A painful knot twisted in my stomach. Please find Olivia. I heard scratchy knocking on the window. I went upstairs to the bedroom.

I wanted to grab her and get out. Then I saw it on top of her. I saw a monster with huge claws, pale, white, and it's... My voice caught in my throat, and my eyes started filling with tears. Detective Carter simply looked at me and waited for me to finish. I swallowed hard and continued. It scratched her. Then it jumped on me, and when I came to, Olivia was gone.

Then I woke up here, please, for the love of God's saver. That thing took her. I said it, feeling like I was completely falling apart. I buried my face in my hands, and tears streamed uncontrollably down my arms. We spoke to your neighbor. She says you talked two days ago. You woke her up early in the morning. Apparently you came back from your trip sooner than expected.

You're wearing nothing but pajamas, and your knuckles were torn up. That matches your medical records. He paused. Look down in his notebook and quietly read. Fractured fingers. lacerations partially healed then he looks me straight in the eyes she says she never saw your wife she also said you were acting very suspicious i stared at him in disbelief he suspects me he thinks i did something to olivia i thought and a violent shiver ran through my entire body we came back together olivia was in the car that thing followed us from pineville it started haunting her back there. We had to run. That's why, for Christ's sake, I was wearing pajamas, I shouted, wiping tears from my eyes. And the so-called boxer's fracture, where'd that come from?

What, Liam? You beat the shit out of a monster? He asked, raising his voice. He rushed through my entire head. I stood up and stepped toward him. You think I'd hurt my wife? I'm telling you the truth. Why are you here instead of looking for her? Why the hell are you wasting this time? That monster took a Olivia, we need to find her. I screamed inches from his face. It didn't phase him in the slightest. He placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt a firm grip near my collarbone,

and in his tired eyes, I saw something almost like sympathy. The faster we finished this, the faster I can get back to looking for your wife, he said calmly. Then he added, where did he get those injuries? on your hands come from i stumbled backward grabbed the hospital bed railing and sat down i was hitting the car

i felt helpless olivia was unconscious that monster did something to her i couldn't wake her up i kept punching the side of the car over and over and over again the detective pulled out his radio can i get confirmation on dense along both sides of the vehicle then he looked back at me All right, and your injuries, the ribs, the head. The memory of the attack flashed through my mind, and a cold sweat broke out across my body. I told you, the thing jumped on me. It threw me into the wall like a rag doll, I said, staring at the floor. We found blood in your bedroom. It's being tested. You're telling me that a monster made those holes in the wall and in the bedding.

You're sure we won't find any tools. The marks aren't. incredibly even and deep, almost like somebody used what the text described as sharpened garden rakes, he said, never taking his eyes off me. I felt helplessness building inside of me. That feeling had been growing nonstop ever since our goddamn trip. I had completely lost control of everything. I looked him straight in the eyes. Detective Carter, please.

Believe me, I know I sound insane. I know it sounds impossible, but you have to help me. You have to find my wife. At that moment, a doctor walked into the room. Sorry, detective, but that's enough. The patient doesn't have the strength for an interrogation this intense. He needs rest. A nurse walked in right behind him.

Keep my number. If you remember anything else, call me, Carter said. Handing me his card. Standing in the doorway, he added, Don't leave town. The doctor stepped closer and gently helped me back onto the bed, saying, lie back, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the nurse injecting something into my IV. I flinched as a sharp wave of pain shot through my arm, from my ribs all the way into my lungs. Anger started building inside me.

What the hell did you give me? I don't want to rest. I want to get out of here, I shouted. But then a warm, almost pleasant sensation started starting. spreading through my body. It's just a sedative, the nurse said, emptying the syringe. I'm going to find my wife. I mumbled as I sank into the soft mattress.

I opened my eyes and grabbed my aching head. Slowly I sat up in the hospital bed, dull pain flowing through every inch of my body. I looked at the window. it was dark outside. I carefully sat on the edge of the bed, my head pounding like the worst hangover of my life. I can't sit here forever. I have to do something no matter what,

I thought as I got to my feet. I slipped the pulse monitor off my finger and ripped the ivy out of my arm. Staggering, I walked to the door and slowly opened it. Dim light filled the hallway. Absolute silence. Broken only by,

by distant coughing in the soft sounds of hospital machines. I stepped out slowly, keeping one hand against the wall for support. Every step sent stabbing pain through my broken ribs. Suddenly behind me, I heard the monitor in my room. It went completely insane. The alarm wailed, echoing through the dark hallways. A sudden rush of adrenaline hit me, and for a moment, the pain eased. I picked up the pace, halfway down the hallway I spotted the door.

I walked closer and opened it, a stairwell. I looked at the floor sign, third floor. I grabbed the railing and started moving down as fast as I could. Second floor. First floor, I whispered, reading the signs as sweat rolled down my forehead. I opened the door and carefully peeked into the hallway. Empty. I moved slowly, pressed against the wall, and hid behind a vending machine.

Only the reception desk left. My stomach twisted into knots. If they see me there, there's no way I'm outrunning anybody in this condition. I slowly leaned my head out. Nobody. I started moving as fast as I could towards the exit. I passed through the automatic doors and felt the cool night air hit my face. The night was surprisingly warm, filled with relief and hope.

I quickened my pace. Every step my shoes took against the concrete sent a brutal piercing pain through my body. I ignored it. It was a small price to pay if it meant finding the woman I loved. The streets were almost completely silent. Interrupted only now and then by a passing car. Then suddenly, from a bus stop across the street, I heard a muffled voice. Hello?

There's some guy in hospital clothes running down the streets. I'm over by... No, no, no. I was so close, I thought. pushing myself even harder. I stumbled the rest of the way home, taking side streets, adding mile after painful mile. I was completely out of it, barely conscious.

I stepped onto our driveway and looked up at the house. Yellow police tape blocked off the property. I ducked under it, walked to the front door, grabbed the handle. Of course. Of course they've locked it, I thought. Yanking the handle with all of my strength. You're going to hurt yourself.

A low, familiar voice came from behind me. Slowly I turned around, leaning my back against the door. Then I slid down and collapsed onto the ground. Detective Carter was standing in the driveway. Coming here was stupid. Did you seriously think the hospital wouldn't call us when a patient escaped? And even if they didn't, come on, man. You're running around in a hospital gown with your balls hanging out.

He laughed. You cause such a scene that within 30 minutes of your escape, we got four more calls about you. I said nothing. I didn't have the strength. I just sat there, barely catching my breath while pain radiated from my stomach into my chest and spine. Carter stepped closer. Tell me something, Liam. Where were you trying to go?

Because I sure is hell don't believe you came here. to stay home. I slowly raised my head. Pineville, Kentucky. He frowned. For what? That's almost 300 miles. They know something, I said,

flinching with every word. Carter walked at the front door. He pulled out a key, unlocked it, opened it. I fell backward and slammed the back of my head against the floor. Darkness flooded my vision. I felt myself,

slipping away. Then I felt a hand grabbing me. We'll see. Get changed and get in the car, he said, hauling me to my feet. Half conscious, I walked inside, changed clothes, and climbed into the car. Detective Carter started the engine, and we drove, maybe two miles. Then the exhaustion finally caught up with me. I sank into the soft leather seat and the vibration of the moving car, knocked me out almost. instantly. Wake up. We're almost there. I heard Carter's voice. I opened my eyes and immediately squinted as bright sunlight stabbed into them. I wiped the drool up from my mouth. Then instinctively glanced sideways, hoping Carter hadn't seen. What now? He asked. We need to drive to the edge of town. There should be an old woman's house there. She knows something. He looked at me.

What do you mean she knows something? Why are you so sure? I looked back at him. She rented us the cabin. She warned us not to arrive after dark. I called her after we got home, and she told me she was sorry, but it was already too late. Carter glanced at me uneasily. Too late for what?

My stomach tightened. We're here, right there, I said, pointing toward Mrs. Sophia's property. Carter pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Way here. He stepped down. He was halfway to the house when suddenly I saw movement. A dog came charging straight at him. I grabbed the handle and adrenaline exploded through my body.

I took off running toward the woods, holding my ribs. Tears streamed down my face. Every step made my vision blur. I was close. I could feel it. Olivia had to be in that goddamn cabin. I'll get her out. I'll figure something out.

I'll save her. Then suddenly, I tripped over a branch. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt. It drove all the air out of my lungs. I rolled on the ground clutching my ribs, sobbing. I had to take this route. If I'd gone down the main trail, Carter would have caught me,

and God knows we'd probably be heading back to Cincinnati by now. I'm close. I have to get up, I thought. I planted my hands against the dirt. slowly pushed myself upright, wiped the sand from my face. I took one step forward and froze. I felt myself pissed down my pants, the warmth running all the way to my ankles. Behind me, I heard it.

A long, slow, metallic scraping sound against wood. I found an abandoned Nissan in the Alaska bush. What happened afterwards haunts me to this day. Back in my 20s, I was what you might call an adventure girl. About 10 years ago, give or take, something happened. I changed that. I moved to the city, got a boring job in a boring apartment, and became decidedly adverse to the outdoors.

I haven't really told anyone about it in all that time. Save my now wife, because, well, for one, they'd think I'm crazy. And for two, I don't want to think about it. I'm finally putting it here, though, because you all deserve to hear it. After all, you probably saved my life. At the time, I had just graduated college and moved from Texas to Alaska out of a desire for, you guessed it, adventure. I had a job doing stuff I liked.

It paid well and gave me enough vacation days to get out and do something really adventurous every once in a while. One thing I'd had on my bucket list since moving north was driving the Dalton Highway. For the unfamiliar, that's a generously highway that goes from Fairbanks to Prudeau Bay on the Arctic Ocean. It's about 500 miles, 11-hour drive in the summer, but thanks to work realities, I wasn't able to get out there until early autumn. By early autumn, the snow had started, but the plows were still able to keep the highway pretty clear. And I was driving a 95 Toyota land cruiser kidded out for expeditions. Besides that, I was an adventure girl.

I was prepared. I had camping gear, emergency gear, a satellite phone, plenty of food and water, enough Jerry cans for the trip there and back, and Sam Colt's greatest invention in the center console, just in case. For the unfamiliar, that's the 1911. I fucking love that gun. I was planning to make the trip in two days, sleeping in the back of the land cruiser halfway. Add enough blankets to keep warm, and I had a nice, comfy space back there that I could fit in. I'd have to drive slower because of the snow. I wanted to enjoy the scenery, and the sun was setting pretty early by that time of year. I had a good start that day, and the driving was fine.

By the time shit went down, it had been dark for about an hour, and I was getting into the foothills of the Brooks Range. That's good scenery and also terrain I didn't want to be going through the dark, so I was just about ready to pull over for the night when I saw caution flashers up ahead. For the unfamiliar, a hard rule for any Alaskan is that you always, always pull over when you see someone in distress on the side of a remote road like that, especially after the snow starts. If they aren't prepared for the emergency, there's a very good chance that you could save their life, so that's exactly what I did. I pulled over next to a Nissan SUV, not as nicely kidded out as mine, but not bad either. I figured they were doing the same thing I was, small world. By the jack under one axle, and the wheel sitting next of the car, they'd blown a tire. What I didn't see, though, were the people.

I got out of my land cruiser, crunching down into the snow and looked around. There aren't a ton of trees that far north, and there are quite a few patches of evergreens that, while not quite forests, can be pretty dark and thick on a heavy snow night. Hey, I called, my voice going dead a few yards away as sound does in snowy woods. Y'all need help? No answer. Dead silence. saved the faint clicking over the flasher from inside their Nissan.

I shouted again. Anybody there? I've got tools. No answer. Dead silence. I considered myself a pretty brave bitch back then, but I'll admit that I was creeped out at this point. This vehicle definitely hadn't been there all that long, and there was no one to be seen. Besides that, the dead quiet and the darkness of the night were unnerving.

It wasn't that weird for it to be silent on a snowy night like this, that far north, but still, Creepy. Creepy enough that I hop back in the car and grabbed my 45, storing it in one of the big pockets in my front of my jacket. Just in case. There were bears up to there. I approached the Nissan and saw footprints in the snow.

Okay, not a ghost car. One pair had been crouched down at the roof of tire, and the other had been standing a couple feet away by the rear of the SUV. The latter pair had then, at some point, headed off towards a tree line. It stopped a few yards down, paced a bit, then continued in the SUV. into the woods. The pair near the tire had then, presumably later, gotten up and ran after the first. I was no tracker, but it's not hard to tell when someone was running in the snow. Now I was really creeped out. I was tempted to hop back in the car and keep driving for a good long while, but

like I said, this could easily have been life or death up here. Besides, I had my 45. It could handle Grizzly. Probably. That was the worst I'd find up here. Probably. So off I went. following those two sets of footprints into the woods. It was fucking dark, but don't worry y'all. Had a really nice flashlight. Sure fire, baby. Adventure Girl, remember? The dead quiet seemed to get even deadlier and quieter

as soon as I passed the tree line. As sound does in snowy woods. Probably. The only thing comforting me was that I hadn't gone in depth with as the sound of my breath and my boots crunching in the snow. Hey, I called again maybe 20 yards into the woods, Is everyone okay? This time I got a response.

It was a woman's voice and it sounded afraid. Over here, it called. Help. I got a spring of my step at that, jogging towards the sound of the voice, shining my light through the trees to try and catch a glimpse. Over here, it called again. Much closer. Help.

Remember when I said y'all probably saved my life? This is one that happened. I stopped. The hair on the back of my neck had stood on end and a chill had run down my spine. Something was off about that. voice. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was slightly wrong. I pointed my light toward where I had heard it. Are you hurt? I said, voice raised, but not quite shouting anymore. Help, the voice called again.

Only it was even closer this time. I hadn't heard the crunch of any footsteps. Over here. My grip on my flashlight tightened and my heart started to hammer my chest. This was not right. I'd read a lot of no sleep back then, and watched and listened to my fair share of spooky stories. At that time, I didn't think any of that stuff was real, but what was happening to me felt way too similar, and it was setting off alarm bells. Something about this exact situation was tugging at the back of my mind as something I should be terrified of. I tried one more time.

What's your name? I asked cautiously. Help, the voice called, and it couldn't have been more than a few yards off. That was enough for me to swap my light to my left hand and bring out the cold with my right. I pointed both in the direction of the voice and finally caught a glimpse of something besides trees. Off in the distance, barely visible, I could see a bundle of something laying in the snow. It was human-sized, and the snow all around it was staying dark. My head was in the middle of processing what it was seen when I saw movement between me and the body. Oh shit, that was a body.

I pointed my flashlight and gun at this horse of the movement. It was humanoid, with two arms and two legs, but it was all wrong. The limbs were too long, and it was too tall. Its hair was thin and wirly. It had antlers, fucking antlers in its face, which was also, I assure you, really fucking wrong. With staying dark with what I can only assume was blood, I fired two shots and hauled ass. I didn't know if the bolt slowed it down. I don't even know if I hit it. I ran faster than I'd ever run before, and by the cracking branches and crunching snow behind me, it was giving chase. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest, and my lungs burned from sucking it in frosty air. Once or twice I saw death flash before me as I nearly lost

my footing in the snow, but I managed to stay upright. As I ran, I heard more snapping, more crunching, not just behind me now, but all around. There were more. I got really fucking lucky that night. I was lucky to have spotted the body, lucky to have run just fast enough and not falling on my face. Lucky none of whatever they were. I have a guess, but I'd rather not hazard it, were just a bit closer or faster. I was lucky that I had dabbled in enough spooky stories that my alarm bells had gone off, and I was lucky that the poor couple, maybe, and that Nissan had gotten stranded there and suffered the grisly fate they suffered.

After all, I was planning to stop just as I saw those caution flashers. I'd have been right there in those same woods asleep. I don't want to think about what would have happened to me if that would have been the case. I made it to my car, which I was lucky to have left running, thinking I wouldn't go far. I left in, slammed and locked the door, and threw it in reverse as I saw dark, lanky shapes coming out of the trees. As I got moving, the headlights revealed that what had been chasing me. I can't say exactly how many it was, at least half a dozen, all of them were similarly stretched, pale to the point of almost being white, with various forms of antlers and primitive-looking clothing.

I reversed down the road as fast as I dared, without risking going off and dooming myself to certain death, for a good half mile before I finally got the nerve to finally turn around, then I flew down the highway all the way back to Fairbanks. Only stopping once I found a nice, well-lit hotel in the middle of the city. The next day I went back to Anchorage. I thought about calling the state troopers. Someone was going to find the Nissan, probably find the bodies. They'd find my casings, my tire tracks.

I could end up a murder suspect. I decided against it, though. If I ratted myself out, I'd be a murderer suspect anyways, and they'd know it was me. Better to bet that no one could tie me to that scene, especially being as far from local as I was. Over the next week, I packed my shit, bailed on my job in my lease, and moved back to Texas. I never ended up with police banging on my door, so I guess I made the right choice. I still have nightmares about those wrong, elongated things chasing me. I probably have PTSD, but it's not like how I'm not.

I can talk to a therapist about it without ending up in a looney bin. I'm not an adventure girl anymore. I never go anywhere at night and I stay in the city as much as possible. I didn't get out of their own skates, but I got out of there alive, which is better than can be said for the folks in the Nissan. I was lucky. Personal Skinwalker story from 2017. I'd like to apologize in advance as I'd like to think I'm a decent storyteller in person, but pretty lackluster and long-winded with text. Also, as I write about later, I try and use animal noises to describe some sounds. Take them all with a grain of salt, as even I know, that's not the exact thing I heard, but the closest sound I can relate it to or describe it with.

I go between I and wea a couple times, as I describe at the end. My friends and I all discussed what happened to confirm we all, in fact, heard the same thing and had the same experience. To perface the story and where it takes place, I grew up in the Huron region of Ontario. For those who are not familiar, it's about a three-hour drive directly west from Toronto, where I now live, on the shore of Lake Huron, not far from the area the tales of the Black Donlies are from, for you dark history lovers. During my history in high school, there was one teacher who had talked about his experiences in a small forested place called Lobbs Bush. Although I wasn't very familiar with it at the time, it was known by

a fair number of locals as a very haunted place in the area or where people have had unexplainable, but startingly similar encounters. This teacher was very outspoken about his experiences in that Bush, but also his steadfast trust in being a non-believer in the paranormal or supernatural, which in turn made him, of all people, the most fascinating to hear it from. Always ends his stories or answers to questions with, I don't believe it, can't explain it, I'm just telling you what happened. A few years later in the winter of 2017, both after having him as my teacher in high school, and having since moved away to attend my first year of university, I came back to my hometown for my winter break to spend some time with family and catch up with my friend

group. For anyone familiar with this small town experience, our favorite activity was the age old classic of buying a terrible number of cheap reservation cigarettes, hopping in one of our friends terribly run down beater cars, and then smoking, chatting, and playing the worst music ever conceived until either the smokes or the gas tank runs out. We were all hovering around 16 to 18, so this was just the most fun degenerate things we could do. On top of finally having a break from all of my uni coursework, this was the first time seeing these friends in a couple of months, so we were all excited to be in one big group again. I won't bore you with all of the earlier antics of the evening, but where this story

picks up is after driving around, catching up for a few hours, we pit stop at a random bush trail so some of us could smoke some weed. As we started walking down, one of the trails, I remember feeling a very stark change in the atmosphere around us. I didn't really want to express my feelings to ruin the mood, but I definitely felt the need to be on high alert. I've never really had a way to describe the physical feeling apart from my chest feeling heavy, but somehow it was very clear that something was watching us and did not want us there. Every few steps, I needed to look back to make sure something wasn't stalking us. All we had were our phone flashlights, which had a very short distance.

The way the trail sat in the bush, it was all new tree, so they curled over the path to almost form a tunnel. It looked as if we walked into a maw of a massive creature, slowly making our way down its throat. We only made it about a few hundred meters before, realizing that the calm night was turning into a winter storm. We all agreed to go back to the car and would start making our way back home before it got worse. By the time we made it back to the car, the trees were swinging wildly in the winds and the snow made it hard to see the next couple feet in front of us. Once we made it to the car, we started to drive back to the closest town, so as to stay at a friend's place to wait out the storm. While driving, the weather continued getting worse

until the snow had practically blinded us while going around a notable halfway their turn. We found out that our estimate of how far to turn the car wasn't enough and felt the car's momentum stall and slide sideways into the ditch. After a short period of us hurling claims of backseat driving and general frustrations, we ended up staying in the ditch for around five hours before being rescued by local police and driven the rest of the way into town. During our time in the ditch, I talked about how I felt while walking in the woods. We all agreed with the feeling of knowing we shouldn't be.

there, and none of us spoke up until now. Only after that, that our friend in the driver's seat, and the only one familiar with these particular backroads, inform us that we were in fact walking through Lobbs Bush. Fast forward some time to, I believe, my second semester reading week, I'm back home with my friends and back to the same old antics. After a particularly good night of catching up, we decided to go revisit Lobbs Bush, as none of us had been there since getting caught in the ditch, and the weather was already warm this month with far less snow. I remember feeling almost excited to go back, rather than dark impenetrable clouds in snow. Tonight, the moon was out and barely needed flashlights to see where we were going.

We parked the car in the same spot and grabbed all necessary smoking apparatuses and a pack of smokes for the driver and meat to share, as of course neither time are we dumb enough to get our designated driver high. As we started walking into the trail, I started realizing landmarks that I had missed for my first time there, with the moonlight making everything more visible. I walked through the same threshold as before and was pleasantly surprised that I didn't feel like I was being watched or unwelcome to walk through. After a point, I had almost forgotten that I was in the infamous woods and was enjoying a late night walk through the forest, laughing with my friends. After walking further down the trail, we finally came to an opening. On the right side of the trail, the trees had parted out

to showcase the edge of the field, nicely lit by the moonlight. On the left side, the bush clears out, so there's a lovely section of grass and light foliage parting to show a small stream cutting through. It looked like a naturally made auditorium, with the stream cutting through like a main walkway. Sparse trees, so plenty of seating for an audience and the trees opening and leading down to the farmer's field as this stage. In all honesty, I had completely forgotten we were there to smoke and was just enamored with how pretty it was. As we found a spot to stop and ready our lights to smoke, our friend had the bright idea to exclaim, yo, I forgot I've got a Roman candle. As we all turned to look, they had already gotten their lighter out and was proceeding to light the candle. Again,

we were late teens. We were idiots. She proceeds to point the candle towards the big clearing to the field. Every once in a while moving it around, so it is not all shooting in the same spot. Going higher and higher into the air, she finally points it in the opposite direction towards the wood. With surprising accuracy, none of the shots actually hit anything before going out until one finally hits a tree near the stream and spirals into the woods where we can't see it. Within no more than a second's time, this blood-curdling scream comes from the exact place the Roman candle bounced into the woods beyond our view. We all completely froze, unsure of what to make of it, as the scream continued on for a worrisome amount of time. I can only describe it as a cross

between a deeper version of a howlard's monkey's roar and an ear-wringing wine like an elk's bugle going higher in pitch as it kept screaming. I remember my ears vibrating from how loud it was. I wanted to cover them, but we were all frozen in place from it. Finally, one of us snapped into reality and yelled, run, and bolted off towards the farmer's field. We all in turn started running away from the ongoing scream from within the woods. As we were running, the scream finally stopped after about 10 seconds of constant noise. There was no breath or change in the scream apart from pitch.

It was able to yell at that volume for longer than I've heard any animal do. Before we could even think, we heard a heavy rustling in the woods as whatever it was, took a deep inhale to scream again. The inhale was just as terrifying, sounding like an alligator's bellow mixed with a hyena's laugh. I know both sounds I'm describing are from exhaling, but you could tell this was a guttural, full-chested and preparatory inhale before screaming again. Unlike the first scream that almost sounded reactionary, surprised by the Roman candle almost hitting it, this was clearly an angry roar. Whatever it was, was really fucking big with the lungs to prove it and now moving towards us. It was even louder and

what I could only assume was now pointed towards us. Even though we were all heavy smokers at the time, we all ran as fast as we possibly could without looking back. Absolutely terrified from the second continuous roar that was now gaining on us. After about 15 seconds, the scream stopped abruptly. It took us a second to realize the noise was gone. We turned around to see that we'd made it out of the woods and onto the field. We only looked back briefly to see we had put around 50 to 100 meters between us and the edge of the bush. Even before we could really think straight, we shakily agreed to make our way to the closest road to make our way back to the front of the bush to find where we parked. It was only once we got to the road and caught our smoked out

breath, did one of us finally ask if we all heard and felt that. We all talked briefly, but were too on edge to actually converse. About 20 minutes later, we finally made it back to the road and had the car in sight. We all started to calm down as we had some time to process and let the adrenaline wear off. We unlocked the car, all got into our respective seats with our bags. None of us had the time to take it off before the first scream happened. As the driver finally turned the car on and the headlights flooded the woods in front of us, the front passenger just screamed, Drive, drive, drive. The driver without looking, cranked the car into reverse and turned around to back out quickly and go down the back road as fast as he could beside the bush. The friend who screamed started to freak out all over again. I was sitting directly behind him with my hand on his shoulder from the back seat.

As we tried to ask what was wrong, I was looking over my shoulder to look into the woods. I genuinely felt like time had slowed down as I looked over. with the same feeling of something watching me like my first time in the woods. As the trees passed by, I could clearly make out two fully open eyes reflecting back at me. I could clearly make out two full reflective circles. I was completely frozen and couldn't look away. I couldn't tell if the eyes were locked on me or the whole vehicle, or even what light they were reflecting off of as we were driving beside the wood.

They were clearly further back into the woods by a couple of meters, so I couldn't make out how tall it was, but I could very easily see they were attached to a head much larger and taller than a human. I completely forgot about comforting the passenger in front of me and instead tried to turn and see it for longer through the back window as we kept driving but had completely lost the visual. I couldn't even make a sound, but my mind was racing. The longer I sat, the longer I wondered, how the hell it got to where I could see it after we had sped away from the parking spot. I don't know how much it saw from the car, but I know it saw me. It saw all of us in those woods.

I don't know how to describe it other than that I felt I was fully prey, and whatever it was a predator that knows me now. After driving for a while on our way back to a friend's farm, we were all able to speak about what had happened. We all heard the same noises, heard the rustling, heard the same far too long screams, and finally, the other passenger and I both agreed on seeing the same wide eye staring at us. Neither of us got a good look at what it was, but both agreed that it was staring at us and was too big to make out. That passenger also made a comment that, even though it was a it was a couple of meters into the woods, when he saw it, it had to be much bigger than a human. After a couple of hours more conversing about it, we all finally felt comfortable driving back

to our respective homes. Every couple of months, when we'd see each other again, we'd make certain to each other that we all saw the same thing, as we wanted to make sure none of us were truly losing it mentally. I sat on the events of this story for about a year, not really sure who to tell or who would believe any of us for that matter. Once I finally felt comfortable talking and researching things similar, I came to a personal conclusion that it might be something along the lines of a skinwalker and started looking further into stories about it. As there was so much talk of people having similar encounters or strange happenings in Lobbs Bush, I really wanted to entertain and research any and all possibilities. On top of that, all of that, all the other

Although raised somewhat Christian in school, it was never a dogma I really followed or was heavy into the idea of other powers until this happened. For me, if this was real and it happened to me, I couldn't disprove anything and has vastly changed the way I look at any form of religion or spiritual beliefs. Through friends and a few events, I know a fair number of indigenous groups and older members that I felt believed enough of the old ways to tell this story. All three elders essentially said the same thing, along the very blunt line of, yep, that sounds like a skinwalker, and a few shared similar encounters that other friends and family have had.

Only within the last, I think, two years I talked to a few more people about it. And one friend finally recommended that I Google what a skinwalker sounded like. I finally looked online and heard some very similar sounds that sent the same, it's watching chills down my spine and felt that on top of everything else was enough confirmation for me. To this day, now have started my own spiritual path with respect to the lands and essentially now being on Turtle Island that I walk on. In addition to the classic, don't whistle or say its name at night, I've made it very clear to my friends who have all heard the story and respectfully know me as a doubt Dorsey camping friend, that if I ever feel anything similar to being watched or that

we shouldn't be in these woods to get the fuck out with me. My Skinwalker Story, Arizona. Okay, so to start out, I live in Mesa, Arizona, which is basically Phoenix, Arizona, because the main cities of Arizona spread out into many cities with no border in between. Mesa is what I would call the suburbs of Phoenix. I changed my name, of course. I live in an apartment complex I'd describe as close to the ghetto but still nice. I live in a bedroom one bathroom apartment in with my girlfriend.

Arizona is a state full of ancient Native American history. I live next to the Ho-ho-Kan Canal, as do many Arizonians. The whole place used to be cities of ancient Native Americans. The point is, I'm in the area for what I believe to be a skinwalker. I'll get to my story. Yesterday I was drinking. one of the things I picked up during the COVID-19 quarantine, or what's enforced here, and I decided to smoke a bull on my apartment patio, which I don't usually do, mind you.

I just finished loading up my pipe and taking the first hit when I hear a voice, somewhere nearby. Amanda, open the door, please. It was a young, probably in the 20s girl's voice talking, and it sounded a common teasing. It continued on as they tried to ignore it, smoking my last bud. after about four times of repeating itself, my curiosity caused me to look for the source. I saw it in an apartment building facing across from me. I saw a dog standing on its hind legs leaning on a door, tapping. At first I shrugged, of course, then I hear the voice again.

It sounded exactly the same as last time. Exactly the same, as if you recorded their voice in that sentence and replayed it once again. There wasn't any other sound or movement in the complex. I watched the thing, knock on Amanda's door for like 30 seconds in what I could call state of shock and curiosity. Then it stopped and didn't move for about 20 seconds until the dog or thing stood all the way up, away from the doorway, on its high on legs, and turned to face me. Made eye contact with me, which is weird because we were at least 50 yards away. I'm on the third floor, and it's on the second, but I felt it looking at me.

I held its eye contact. I was so scared I felt like I should run. Then it got on all fours and headed down the stairs slowly. At the bottom it started slowly walking over to me. I was on all fours now. I about to go inside or scream, I don't know. But I had to know what this thing was going to do. It walked close to my balcony.

Yes, it was a dog, a brownish-yellow, dirty-looking thing with big eyes that were 100% attentive to mine. It didn't seem natural to be honest, but nothing looked wrong at the glance. except that it was staring into my eyes and wouldn't stop. I ran inside as it reached the bottom of my stairs and locked my doors. Soon I heard clawing at my door, doggy clawing. Next I heard the door handle jingle, then it started on my front porch door.

I, of course, never answered. Instead, I hid behind my kitchen counter with a knife. After about 30 minutes it left, I stayed up all night, but I didn't see it again, and I didn't go out again. I'm hoping it doesn't come back. I haven't gone outside at all night. I'm burning sage and trying to be careful as I can. Stay out of the Ozarks.

I've been a biologist ever since I was 22 years old. I grew up on a farm in rural Illinois, so nature has never been a stranger to me. Playing in the woods was how I entertained myself growing up, spending all my time in the forest as a child. People would expect me to have stories about Bigfoot or strange noises or finding some weird shrine out in the middle of the woods but no. The weirdest thing I have ever encountered was a bobcat screeching. It sounds just like a woman's dying scream, and yes, to everyone who's ever claimed to hear a skinwalker

or goat man screeching in the woods at night, I promise you, it was just a bobcat. The truth is often mundane and disappointing. You'd think this would mean I'd have gotten bored of the woods, but I never really lost my love for them. Nature is boring. That's why I like it. You know what to expect. That's why, after college, I decided to make studying nature my full-time career. I'm a biologist for the Sierra Club, specialized in the ecosystems of Midwestern America, fish, birds, deer, elk, bear, wolves, and the like.

I spent five weeks in fire towers, cabins, campsites, always miles away from civilization. I'm usually gathering data on local wildlife, measuring for pollutants, determining whether the ecosystem is stable or if anything needs threatens it. The work is not glamorous, but I enjoy it. In nature had still never surprised me. Until my last assignment, I was designated to be stationed alone in a cabin in the Ozarks. The assignment was supposed to last three weeks in May. The Sierra Club was alerted to a steady decline in the local elk population over the last decade. Nothing drastic, but enough to raise concern.

My job was to take census of the wildlife, measure for pollutants, the usual. These are my diary entries for my assignment, starting with my first night. I arrived in the evening in early May. Nothing was amiss the first two nights. It seemed an assignment like any other. The sounds of the forest were exactly what you would expect, crickets and owls hoot and the occasional elk call. I was sent here in May because that's their mating season.

The elk are out and about looking for a... dates and that makes them easy to count elk mating is pretty straightforward the female lets out a call and waits for a male to find her usually it's first come first served if you catch my drift if only right it was clear that love was in the area and for all the calling you'd think i would start seeing elk but by the second day i still hadn't spotted a single one the third night i was lying in awake in bed uneasy something wasn't sitting right with me. But I couldn't put my finger on why. I was about to nod off when a female call cut through the night.

I sighed. That was the second time that night I'd heard her. What? Are the fellas having a guy's night in or something? And that's when it finally hit me. I shot Bolt upright in my bed. For the last three nights I had heard nothing but female mating calls. That should have drawn every male within half a mile, now elk are not discreet,

and they don't beat around the bush. When that male gets the female, well, let's just say that the whole forest will know about it. I sat in bed staring out into the night, pondering. There have to be males close enough to hear this female, so after three nights of her calls, why haven't I heard the main event? The third day I went out onto the trails, once again looking for some sign of elk in the forest. What I found was not encouraging. About a quarter mile from my cabin, I was checking down the trail when I noticed something 30 feet into the woods,

a large brown fuzzy mass lying in the brush. I smiled, an elk taking a midday nap? I took out my binoculars to get a closer look. It was an elk all right, but my smile dropped when I realized that the brown fuzzy mask was completely still. I carry a hunting rifle with me for safety. I readied it and approached the elk carefully. It looked fine from where I was standing, but I nearly dropped my rifle

when I found it to the animal's front. It was carnage. The poor creature had been completely gutted. What little were made of its entrails hung loosely out of its chest cavity. The ribs had been pulled apart and huge claw marks scarred its flank. Its head was barely connected to its body by a few weak strands of flesh. I heaved and almost lost what little breakfast I'd had. It was horrifying.

I had to take a few moments to collect myself. This is the first time that nature had surprised me. What could have possibly done this? I've studied WildEye for years. This is a bull elk in its prime. It would have stood nine feet tall alive, a king of the forest. There is no predator on this continent that could have taken down a full-grown bull, pack, or no pack. Even a grizzly wouldn't mess with something this big.

And bears are mostly scavengers anyways. My mind raced through possibilities, trying to think of an explanation. Maybe it had been sick? Maybe a predator came upon it sleeping? Took it by surprise? Yes, that must be it. It couldn't have fought back, but this savagery. Those claw marks are worth bigger than even a grizzlies, and its ribs.

No quadrupled could have exerted leverage on the ribs to split them like that. You could need arms. A chilling thought occurred. A human? Could humans have done this? But why? Hunters would skin it, or take the head at least, to mount on their wall. Is some psychopath out here dismembering wildlife for fun?

And that still wouldn't explain these gruesome claws. Whatever this was it needed to be reported. I was sent here to investigate the elk population declining and this had to be related. I fished out my camera to take photos. Having to document the horror from every angle was heart-wrenching. The look in its eyes, the elk had been terrified when it died. I went to take one last shot. Just as the shutter clicked, my ears registered something.

A sound from behind me. Then my camera had nearly drowned out. I whipped around and had barely heard it, but it was there, a twig snapping. My camera hung from my neck and my rifle from my shoulder. I dropped the one to snatch up the other. Idiot, I thought to myself as it pointed the rifle towards the sound. I've been so shaken by the sight of the body I'd been completely overlooked one important fact. The kill was fresh.

This corpse hadn't even begun to decay yet. This elk had been dead no more than half a day, and that means whatever killed it may still be near. With my rifle still trained on the spot, I backed away towards the trail. My hike back to the cabin and was the only time in my life I felt scared of the forest. Trees surrounding me on all sides. No visibility. I jumped at the slightest sounds, never lowering my rifle, never going more than five seconds without looking behind me. I felt like prey, never knowing where the danger would come from or when.

I didn't relax until my cabin door was closed and locked behind me. spent the rest of my day inside the cabin shaken. I readied the photos and sent them to my supervisors. They would take a day or two to respond. Until then, my plan was to investigate. During the day, and with my rifle ready, that night was my last night at the cabin. I was getting ready for bed when I heard a female elk call again, the first one that had heard that day.

And close. Very close. Wildlife don't like buildings. They smell of fire and metal and gasoline, all unnatural to them. They steer clear. What was this elk doing so close to my cabin? I peered out of my window into the dark of the forest. No sign of her.

She must have been beyond the tree line. I grabbed my rifle, of course. I wasn't going to shoot the elk, but I might send a few shots into the air to scare her off. It would be nice to know the elk are breeding normally, but I could do without front row seats. I unlocked my cabin and took a step out onto my porch. Rifle still in hand. My eyes scanned the tree line.

looking out for the female. That's when a pair of antlers struck out behind a tree. An elk's head followed them and turned right out at me. And this was a buck, probably attracted by the female's calls. This is promising, but all the more reason to scare them away. I raised my rifle to the sky and prepared to fire. That was when the elk flew into the air, or its head did. The buck's head sailed and an arc towards me and landed just feet away from my door.

I stood there in shock, trying to process what had just happened. Something. Something where someone had been holding the head and had just thrown it. I nearly pissed myself. I pointed my rifle at the tree where the buck's head had appeared. The light from my cabin barely reached. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? Had I just seen claws retreat around the trunk?

I was frozen. I needed to reach behind me to open my door and get back inside, but I was too scared to turn my back on the forest, or even take a hand off my rifle. After a few seconds, I finally gathered up the nerve to brace the rifle against my shoulder, my finger's still on the trigger. I groped behind me until my left hand found the doorknob, never taking my eyes off the tree. Thank God the door had not locked behind me. With my left hand, I turned the knob and pushed up on the door, then drew it back to my

rifle. I backed away quickly into the cabin, slamming the door, and locking it. I hurried to the windows, drawing all my blinds and making sure each was locked. Never laid to my rifle out of arm's reach. The terror I felt as I approached each window, never knowing if there would be someone or something on the other side of the glass, staring back at me. There had it been, which was almost as unnerving.

I rushed to the satellite phone to call the sheriff's office at the base of the mountain. The relief I felt when they picked up. You need to get up here? I pleaded. Who is this? It was the sheriff's deputy on the other end. I met him in the sheriff before beginning my stay at the cabin. It's me. I'm the guy stationed up at the cabin on the mountain.

Oh, sorry about that. What's the problem? There's someone up here fucking with me. Get up here now. Whoa, whoa. Slow down. You mean like kids or something? No, it is not fucking kids.

Someone up here just threw a decapitated elk head at my cabin. In my panic, I'd somehow kept the awareness to use my phrase, someone instead of something. I didn't want this guy to think I was drunk or crazy. I just needed him to get up here. Well, what did they look like? How many were there? Did they have guns?

I have no fucking idea, man. They killed a goddamn elk, cut the head off and threw it at my cabin. Just get the hell up here. Oh shit. Okay, okay, lock yourself in there. We're on the way. Man, please stay on the line. I'm scared here.

I really was terrified. I wanted someone to stay on the phone with me, even if it couldn't help me. The man replied, I can't get to you and stay on the line at the same time. I'm calling the sheriff now. We're on our way. Just lock yourself in and stay there. The man hung up. I swore. I was alone again. A female elk call rang out again. This time it was even closer. It sounded like it was right outside now. I took up my rifle again. That's when the tapping

started. While I was talking to the deputy, I hadn't been watching the windows. The sound was coming from the window to the right of my front door. My eyes widened in horror. A single gray claw was tapping on the right edge of the window. Just one claw. Whatever it was attached to wanted to stay out of sight. The claws stopped tapping. Instead, it drew itself along the window and out of my sight, leaving a long, ugly scratch. The sound was horrible, but it didn't stop when it left the window. I could still hear it, dragging along the wooden walls of my cabin. The creature was scratching through solid wood. Could it break through my windows? Why didn't it? My niece shook. I tracked the sound of the scratching with my rifle.

My mind raced. Could this thing get in? How long until the sheriff showed up? I was high up on the mountain. The drive here took 45 minutes, even if they hurried, it might be half an hour. Even if they did get here. Could they stop this thing? Should I make a run for my truck?

No. Whatever this thing was, it could get to me before I got the truck up and running. Something nagged at the back of my head, but I could barely think. was louder and louder. Whatever this thing was, it had torn a bull elk to shreds. How could I stop it? The bull. That's when I realized it. The head. It was the same head as the bull I'd seen earlier. It had the same scar down its right cheek. This thing was taunting me. It must have been there when I found the dead elk. It had been watching me and now it had thrown the head at me. Was it telling me to go away, to get out of its territory? I gasped.

With my mind racing, I hadn't noticed that the scratching had stopped. Where was that thing? My eyes darted from window to window, no sign of it, until the loud thud right above me. It's on the goddamn roof, I thought. Its footsteps echoed through my cabin. Between each step came rhythmic taps, no doubt from its claws. Was it testing for weaknesses? Was it merely toying with me?

It had only been a few minutes since I called the sheriff's office. I was still far from safety. I hadn't moved since the call. The thing on my roof thudded from spot to spot, the shock was starting to wear off. Focus. Think, I told myself. The thing had probably seen me through the window. It was right above me.

The bathroom. The bathroom was the safest spot. There were no windows. If it does break in, it would have to look for me, then break through the bathroom door. That might buy me an extra minute, and it might save my life. The creature knew where I was. I had to try to change that. I slowly slipped off my shoes, keeping my eyes.

rifle train on the roof. I kicked a shoe towards my bed. Sure enough, the thuds on my roof followed, stopping right above the spot where my shoe had landed. It's tracking me. I slowly shoveled to the bathroom, not raising my feet, afraid to make a sound, praying that the door would not creak. I opened the bathroom, preparing to lock myself inside. I was shutting myself in, hoping that I wouldn't die in this bathroom when I heard a loud scratch followed by a dull thud it had jumped off the roof it was on the ground again outside the cabin why was it going away i was afraid to hope that maybe had gotten bored maybe it had found some other prey that was when i heard the woman scream i gasped and covered my mouth how was that possible no one else is here a hiker a camper maybe the scream again help she cried out

I gripped my rifle, crying now. I was frozen in fear that thing was out there, chasing some poor woman, and I was too cowardly to help her. I just wanted to stay in that bathroom hiding, hoping that every second that thing spent chasing that woman was another second closer to the sheriff getting here. I don't know how long I sat there, cowering. Another desperate scream. Help me! There was something in her terror. She was more scared than I was, and there I sat, letting her die.

My shame overcame my fear. I gripped my rifle tighter and left the bathroom. I marched to the door, ready to face whatever this creature was. Maybe I could distract it. Buy time for her to get away. Maybe the sheriff would find her. Even if the thing got me first. Just as I was reaching for the doorknob, she cried out again.

A pained, dying scream. I was too late. That thing had gotten her. I was a coward, and because of that she was dead. The woman moaned in pain this time just a few meters away from the door. This must be her final moments, and I listened, safe in my cabin. She groaned once more. But this sounded different somehow.

It was, my eyes widened and shocking realization. I drew my hand from the doorknob as if it had burned me. I'd never unlocked it, thank God. The moan came again. This time, unmistakable. That was not a moan of pain or terror. It was an entirely different kind of moaning. I backed away from the door.

You motherfucker I muttered. You almost got me. It all made sense now. There never was any female elk. Mimicry is a common adaptation in all ecosystems, both for prey and for predators. This thing, it let out female elk cries to draw in males and then, well, I had already seen the result in the forest. That's why I never heard the elk mating. There was no female waiting for them.

Only this monster. And now I was trying the same tactic on me. I nearly sobbed in terror. It had tried to lure me with the sound of a woman in distress. It thought that might draw me out. When that didn't work, it switched to its tried and true method. A mating call. I aimed my rifle at the door.

The moans continued. Louder and more intense, building into a climax. I was nauseous at the thought of whatever it was out there, squatting in the dark, mouth agape, emitting this perversion of a woman's voice. Trying to draw me out into the dark and rip me apart just like that elk. I stood with my rifle train at the door, not moving. I had resolved that I was going to stay there until the sun rose or until the sheriff came. In the moment I saw this thing, I was going to shoot it.

I don't know how long I stood there among the echoes of that sick creature. Eventually, the moans puttered out, and I was left in silence, until the tapping began again, in the same spot as before. There was that single gray claw, tapping on that same spot where I'd scratched the glass, but then a second claw joined in, then a third. It drummed then along the glass, slowly, ever so slowly. A patch of gray fur poked out from the edge of the window. Time stopped, and the creature brought its face into full view.

It was terrible, like a sloth. But its mouth and nose were caked in blood. It had tiny, beady eyes front-facing, a predator's eyes, large, pointed ears, almost like a bat, thin, cracked lips. The monster looked right into my eyes. It cocked its head, and then it pulled those terrible, bloody lips back into a smile. It's razor-sharp teeth, still stained with blood and flesh. I'll never forget them. It pointed that hideous grin at me as it drummed those claws on my window.

Shoot, shoot, shoot, I told myself. But I was frozen. This thing was going to kill me. Light poured through the front window. The monster disappeared out of sight. The sheriff and deputy had arrived in their truck. The two of them sauntered up to my porch and knocked. I had to shake myself out of my stupper and open the door.

Both of them backed off and drew their weapons at me, screaming at me to put the gun down. I was still in shock. I think the only thing that kept me from shooting them was a terrified look in my eyes. They asked me what the hell was going on. I could barely speak. I just kept frantically repeating that they needed to get inside, that it was still out there. They eventually told me to come with them down to the sheriff station. At first, I refused to leave the cabin, then sort of half dragged, half walked me to the truck.

They said I was like an owl the whole ride down, my head in on a swivel, always scanning the tree line for it. I must have fallen asleep after I got to the station. I woke up the next morning in a cell. I was confused and disoriented. I nearly wet from fear when I finally remembered everything I had been through the night before. The sheriff and deputy sat me down in a room and asked me what the hell happened that night. I was silent at first. I didn't know what to tell them.

If I told the truth, they'd think I was crazy. They asked me about the elk's head that I told them about during the call. It was gone when they got there. Just a bloody stain on the ground where it had been lying. I made up a story, said that some kids were prowling around my cabin making noises trying to scare me. I called the sheriff's office because I thought I saw one of them with a gun. The sheriff only made me go over the story once. He seemed satisfied.

He took me back up there the next day to collect my stuff, and brought daylight, of course. Sure enough, there were deep scratch marks along the side of the cabin. The sheriff didn't look at me. Kids, he said. We collected my things quickly and hurried back down the mountain. I reported to my supervisors that it was probably overhunting causing the population decline. They would never believe the truth. The sheriff saw me off while I was waiting for the bus to take me back home.

He shook my hand and drew me in for one of them manly half hugs. He gripped my shoulder. Don't come back, he whispered. I gave him a confused look. He stared at me. right in the eyes. It knows you now. Has your scent. Seen your face. Heard your voice. You got away once. It won't happen again, so don't ever come back. That was years ago. I burned the clothes that I'd worn that trip, so there's no way they'd end up near the Ozarks again. Never been

back anywhere near the Ozarks. And anyone who's ever asked me, I always tell them to steer clear. I spent so much time trying to forget what I saw that night, but that face, I remember every detail. It's kept me up so many nights with so many questions. What the hell was it? Some freak of nature? A mutant that somehow survived past infancy? Something supernatural? An alien?

Those ears perfectly crafted to detect minute sounds just like a bat. That explains its mimicry. It grew up in that forest hearing the elk calls. After a while, it learned to copy them. I spent so many nights asking myself, How? How did it know that a woman's voice? I dread to ponder the answer.

When sleep finally comes, I have nightmares. Nightmares about campers sitting around the fire, when all of a sudden they hear a voice calling out to them in the woods, crying for help. The voice in my nightmares, calling them into the darkness of the trees, away from the safety of their fire. The voice. My voice.

Skinwalker encounter on Seminole Land. So, a buddy of mine and I decided to spend the night on a campground in Cluston, Florida on Seminole territory. It was a nice but quiet campground, with cattle and ranches surrounding us. The day was very calm and uneventful as we had some beers, listened to music and bullshit with each other. However, nightfall was a completely different story. We did not plan it this way, but we happened to be there for a total eclipse. Once the sunset for the night, we decided to take a walk on a dirt road, headed toward the cattle ranch. The walk was eerily quiet and harmless until we heard a noise to our right, seemingly out of nowhere.

A group of about eight cows, about 50 feet to our right, suddenly broke into a full-out sprint, like they were running from something. We had seen the cows throughout the day, but did not see them running or acting uneasy, so the timing was very odd. After this, around 9.30, we decided to get a few hours of sleep for the peak of the eclipse at 2.45 as it had been a long day. However, at around 1208 a.m., I suddenly woke up, not knowing what had woke me so suddenly as I am typically a heavy sleeper. However, I soon heard footsteps around our campsite. We have been mindful of throwing out our trash, as this is one of the few areas in South Florida where bears are common.

However, whatever was creating the noise sounded bipedal and stayed for hours instead of a few minutes like bears typically do. Unfortunately, I was the only one awake until around 2.30 a.m. For those two and a half hours, I heard constant footsteps near where we had our fire and around the tent. At one point, I heard a deep exhale right next to my ear outside of the tent. However, things took a turn for the worst at around 145 to 2 a.m. When I heard a gut-wrenching cries of a cow in the field about 100 feet to our left,

it genuinely sounded like flesh being torn off of its skin. During this time, the footsteps and sounds were still there. About 45 minutes later, and once my buddy woke up, we hear the unmistakable sound of a pack of coyotes howling and yelping in the area that the cow had seemingly been killed. This lasted for about a few minutes. After a while, we entertained the idea of returning to the car as there was only about 10 feet from the tent's entrance.

However, once we had built up some courage because of the lack of footsteps, they began again. At some point around 3.45, I somehow passed out due to the exhaustion and the very high level of adrenaline I had felt for the last four hours. However, when I woke up at around 9 a.m. the next morning, my buddy tells me that, after I fell asleep, he heard another cow meeting the same fate. The coyotes returning in the footsteps remaining until sunrise 7 a.m. We are not avid campers by any means, but thought that camping on native land sounded like a fun idea, not sure of what we would see. However, once I got home, I looked into Skinwalkers more as I'd become familiar with them through scary stories on YouTube, but I did not know

the full extent of their habits or characteristics. When I did this, their correlations terrified me. The fact that it is known to disguise itself as bears and coyotes specifically. The fact that the footsteps sounded bipedal, yet imitated a four-legged animal. The harm seemingly caused the livestock and the other events seemingly meant to draw us out. I don't know what to think. I became even more confused when we looked over the campsite in the morning and found no footprints, let alone paw prints.

Even our trash and other belongings by the fire didn't seem to be moved much. I'm not trying to convince myself of this because we were on native land and it makes for a cool story. I was genuinely scared for my life and I felt like I was being watched all night. I just wanted to share the story and possibly hear any input as these events had taken place just 13 hours ago at the time of me writing this. To me, that kind of sounds like a Skinwalker or maybe just a stalker. in your campsite. That's really weird. I would never camp on Native American land personally. I just think it's too sketchy. But I don't know. That sounds scary. That's good that you made it out alive and I'm sorry for the late reply since you sent this to me like months ago. But let me know

if you've been back. Please comment or send another email back if you've been back to that land or camp there again. I'm really interested to hear but that's scary as hell that I heard like an exhale next to your ear or like through the tent that's terrifying but it's also weird how there was no footprints no anything like that you know i wonder if you're almost imagining it because you're exhausted i don't know but uh if you've gone back please send a follow-up email and um yeah thank you so much for sharing on the next one hey i love watching your videos especially the ones involving cryptids or skin walkers i decided to send in one of my own stories coming from my father and his life growing up in the Appalachian. So, here we go. If you need credit for the story, just call me Sarah.

I live up in the Midwest, but my father comes from the south, specifically the Appalachia area of West Virginia. He told me this story a few years back. He grew up in Virginia and had a few strange encounters, but this one apparently scared him the most. Here is the story in his own words. It was late fall, and I had just come back from grad school to go back to my childhood town in the deep Appalachia in 1989. My father and I used to go hunting often together as my brother was the quiet book type. We also had a handful of hunting dogs, my favorite of which was a border collie named Gunner. He was young, around three years old. I asked my father if he could go hunting, but my father was suffering from heart issues, but he encouraged me to go alone for the first time

in my life up to that point. I decided to take my dad's rifle, grab a coat and my dog, gunner and go hunting. We hopped in an old pickup in the afternoon and drove a gravel small pathway to a nearby forest, which back in my childhood was dense and lush, full of life and color. On this day in late fall, the forest was bleak and dull. All the colorful dugwood leaves were gone and the grass was a dull yellow. Nothing like the spring green of my childhood. I shrugged it off and started on the hunt, Gunner going up in front of me to scout. I was young so I could walk. I could walk. quickly and for a long time, the time seemed to fly by in the days of my youth, and that day was no different. The forest seemed empty, no birds singing in the trees and no squirrels darting

from bush to bush. I eventually caught a rabbit, skinny, but it would do. After about one or two hours, we came upon a small clearing surrounded by dense forest and thin trees. As we approached, a prickling feeling shot on my spine like an electric current, an old wood cabin stood in the center, overrun with ivy and other wildlife. It must have been there since the 1800s at least. The cabin was dark brown and barely standing. A old wooded chain was inside, but that was all. That was visible behind the thick foliage.

Gunner started to stop at the edge of the clearing. Tail tucked between his shaking legs. He didn't dare look back at me, his eyes looking at the tree line. He was whining and scared. The sky was getting dark and the fog did not help my unease. I felt like prey being stalked. I looked at Gunner and whistled softly to tell him it was time to go. I had a bad feeling and knew it was time to go.

A rustling came from the tree line. Not a soft rustling like prey darting around, but more like a large predator giving away its location behind the cabin, and at that moment something told me to run. So I did. I dropped the rabbit I had caught in as fast as I could with Gunner at my side. I turned around and I saw a tall, skinny figure hunched over where I stood moments earlier.

Mouth and hands covered and what was left of the rabbit. I didn't stop to look back as me and Gunner ran to the rusty pickup, scared shitless. We sat there for what seemed like forever before I decided it was time to go. I rolled out of the gravel parking lot and started driving.

My father said the worst part was that, as he was driving, he thought he could make out a tall figure standing behind the trees, staring at him smiling. Smiling like the creature smiled at the rabbit on the forest floor and that he would be now.

Next. My dad never went hunting alone for many years. Something in Gunner changed and Gunner was never able to venture outside of the perimeter of the yard in which the family's house was located. He wasn't able to go be a hunting dog after that. Shortly after, Gunner went missing after we let him outside to do his business tonight. My dad's father went looking for him the next morning. My grandpa refused to tell my dad what was left to Gunner, only that he had passed on and not to go out at night. During the time after the encounter, while he had been able to be able to, staying at his family's house, he often heard rustling outside the house. Too quiet to be a bear, but not small enough to be a raccoon. Scratching, tapping, and whistling often occurred throughout

the night, from dusk to dawn. On one occasion, my dad claimed to see Gunner in the woods, but he looked mangled and something was wrong with his face. My dad claimed whatever it was, followed him home, took Gunner and wanted to take him next. My father left a week later to go back to college and these strange events eventually stopped within the next month after his departure. That's about it from what I can remember of this tale. My dad had experienced a few weird things after, but nothing seemed to scare him like this. My dad is a tall, burly man, and I've never seen him scared, but when he tells the story, a flash of fear crosses his eyes.