I am a 20 year old guy from Illinois, i have been in the woods my entire life. In fact my dad brought me hunting for the first time when i was 4yr’s old, and no he didn’t give me a gun then he just let me sit in the stand with him.
since then i have been in love with all things outdoors, along with firearms and the like, i mainly bow hunt for everything from deer to squirrels, but will often take my .22 or .17hmr out for coon, or squirrel.
This event took place about a year ago when i was 19, and my friend who ill call R was 17.
R and i were at his house which sat on a 10 acre plot of land but was surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of acres that we had free reign over, so long as we didn’t tear apart his neighbors corn or beans on our dirt bikes.
we spent almost every weekend out in those woods, either riding dirtbike’s, hunting, or fishing in the farm ponds, so we knew the area and the animals in the area very well, we very often even went out very late at night to coon hunt or coyote hunt, and that is how this story starts.
R and i were planning on taking his coon hound (banjo) out to get some coons because we were pretty bored, but we ended up hanging out in the back of their barn that was built into a man cave, just watching TV and hanging out with his dad.
That day i had brought my AR-15 out to his house to sight it in with the new sight i had put on, so i had it next to me in the man cave. We always had at least on gun easily accessible just in case we heard banjo out in his dog house barking, because they had a chicken coop and sometimes we would get coons or coyotes try to get a midnight snack.
this night, at about 1AM, R was passed out on the couch and i was just watching family guy, half asleep, when i heard banjo start to bark. I sat there thinking about how i didnt want to get out of the recliner to find out what he was barking at but figured it was better than R’s mom yelling at us about a missing rooster or chicken.
So i got up, grabbed my AR, which still had about 10 rounds in the magazine, clicked on the light i had attached to the rail and walked out the door, leaving R passed out on the couch.
when i walked out the back door i had to walk around another shed to be within 50 yards of the coop, so i walked around and started heading towards the coop, not really paying attention until i realized banjo had stopped barking, then the realization that i didn’t hear the bullfrogs or crickets, or any wildlife at all. Being a big fan of cryptid stories, and horror stories in general, this put me on edge. I started scanning the tree line with my light, not knowing what to expect. until my light got to banjo’s enclosure.. there was this pale white creature leaning over the 4ft high fencing they used for banjo’s area, looking right at his dog house, and when the light fell on it, it turned its head to look at me.
This thing stood straight up, and looked to be at least 8 inches taller than me (im 6’4″) with bright yellow eye’s that reflected my flashlight. This was the first time in my life that i had legitimately frozen from fear, i couldn’t move and this thing was just staring me down while making this really low growling noise, something i have never heard before.
After what had to have been 30 seconds or so I regained a little control. I raised my gun thinking there is no way that it would take down whatever this was, just wishing i had my 12 gauge slug gun.
I shot one round and missed because i was freaking out so bad. Then i emptied whatever was left in my magazine, I had to have hit it at least once because it screamed, this sort of howl, mixed with the most horrid sort of scream i have ever heard, i can’t even think of how to truly describe it, and it ran off, back into the trees.
After it ran off R came sprinting out of the barn with his dads 1911 pistol, looking around frantically and asking me what in the hell that was. I just stood there, staring towards the trees where that thing ran off to, and without looking at R just said, almost under my breath, “we have to get inside, right now”.
i spent the rest of that night clutching a 12 gauge slug gun, the one i wished i had had earlier. The next morning i told R what i had seen, him being a believer in cryptid’s he believed me and agreed we were lucky that night.
we continued to hunt at night, using banjo, who also survived the ordeal, to tree coons for another 10 months or so until i moved to Minnesota for work reasons. I never saw that thing again, but i worry for R and the rest of my friends down there, and hope they never see the thing either.