The Forest behind my House

I’ve not shared this with anyone for the sake of wasting time, and more importantly, reliving the memory, or more accurately, memories. I should clarify that I live on about a 28 acre property in the southern U.S., and behind the home that borders the road, there is a fairly large forest that stretches significantly to the south and west until it reaches I-75 on the western side.

 

I don’t exactly know which of the several events I’ve experienced would be considered the most or least horrifying persay, but, I’ll try to order them chronologically, because in my opinion, they have developed into progressively more horrifying encounters the older I am, and the more persistent my memory is, so forgive me if the arrangement is more of a bounce than a progression. I’ll start with the time I was 5 years old.

 

Throughout childhood, my grandfather would always remain soundly in holiday spirit, on each Halloween, he would put up old pillow cases with cloth hanging from trees to creepily decorate the edge of the forest I live next to. On Christmas, he would strictly enforce the English tradition of telling ghost stories, and in the summer, he would eagerly anticipate the arrival of Independence day solely to set off some M80 firecrackers, the big ones, at midnight. Although the dogs didn’t like this, nor sleeping neighbors, I always found contentness in his will to have a good time. This is besides the point, so I’ll return to what I’m trying to articulate; those fake ghosts he would hang from trees, the cloth and pillow case entities that were about 3-4 feet long, were where this started for me. Until I was 5, he did this every year, even before I was born from what I’ve learned from my mother.

 

On Halloween of 2005, after returning from school, I remember being drove towards our home and seeing the human effigies he hung, and being excited that another year of tradition was being condoned. Upon closer inspection, I noticed one of the ghosts had red spots on its left torso, and a little staining the right shoulder. I asked him, “What did you use to make that blood that’s on them?”

He looked at me kind of silly as he opened the truck door… When I got out he responded in a voice you’d treat a child babbling nonsense, “I didn’t put anything on them.” At the angle the truck was now at, where we had driven up the lane, the house was now obstructing our view of the forest, so I asked him to walk around the home with me to see what I was talking about. I know what I saw, and I am absolutely positive it was a red color. When we got to the other side of the house, around a spot where today a Magnolia tree stands, I pointed at the effigies, but before I could mutter my brag of being right, I was horrified to see no such effigy with blood on it, and one less than there were before. Originally, 3 had been hung, always 3, it was a simplicity thing. When I saw the blood tainted effigy earlier, there were 4, I thought nothing of this, but now it had became ironic that I paid no attention. I honestly don’t know what to think of this besides it obviously being a hung child, which is a thought I do not fancy entertaining at all, it was so disturbing. Everytime I recount my original view of the 4 effigies, I think about how real the bloodied one looked. Every now and then I have nightmares of it lifting its head and seeing myself with a noose around my neck. Anyways, I’ll tell the second encounter I had with the forest, which occurred when I was 9.

This one is slightly less clear, but more memorable. Every August, my grandfather would take me deer spotting in the forest, this was to get an idea if it was worth hunting back there each season or too much trouble. On this particular day, we were about 200 meters into the forest, laying on top of a log concealed by a small hill. We had been there for at least 4 hours now, just sitting. As a 9 year old child, I was indefinitely tired. I went to sleep, and to my terror, I had one of the recurring dreams I described earlier, only my grandfather was the one being executed by hanging. This troubled me deeply, and I awoke. As if things couldn’t be worse, it was dark when I awoke. I don’t even know how, my sleep felt like a power nap of MAYBE an hour at most, not enough to put daylight in the grave. I reached for my grandfather, and found to my relief he was there, but sleeping. Old people easily drift off. I woke him up and told him I wanted to go home. I had developed an overwhelming feeling of dread, but before I could convey that he shushed me- “Be quiet a minute”

I asked why, there was no sound in the forest to be heard for miles, which was eerily odd in its own way, the interstate, I-75, was at least another 27 acres away. He agreed upon returning home, so we started the journey. The return was uneventful, until we came upon the remains, what looked like dog, bones. There was even a skull, which is extremely rare for animal remains… the head is always gone from what I’ve found in the past. We continued past this creepy discovery, and were basically in my backyard now, when a very distinct voice filled my ears from behind

”Be quiet a minute”

I turned to the forest expecting to see my grandfather behind me but instead nobody was there. It sounded just like him, but I looked and saw he was a couple meters ahead of me now. Then I heard it again, and almost cried when I heard it… it repeated the exact same words from last time so perfectly, it was like a recording, so I just fast walked to my home and pretended nothing happened when my grandfather asked why I stopped walking for a bit.

 

The next day, our neighbors that live north, beside the church graveyard (And yes, I also live next to one of those, but nothing creepy has ever ensued there, the worst thing that happened to me was tripping over a grave light when trying to prank one of my deacons once) called and asked if we had seen their dog, Josey, that had went missing. Not wanting to crush their hopes of finding it in a slow and drawn out way, my grandfather informed them we had seen bones the last night. This is important because later the same day, they claimed their dog had came back from the woods behaving ill. That’s all we ever heard, but this sounded suspicious. I’m pretty sure they never had the dog after the following winter of 2009.

 

Fast forward 6 years, my sophomore year of high school. Me and a couple buddies of mine had passed a college level exam for an advanced placement class, so with it being halfway through our high school life, and that success being announced, we invited some more friends to see who was interested in having a party at my house.

Most of the party was uneventful, just my family cooking in front of a bonfire on the side of the house closer to the church and graveyard, until, we decided to play manhunt.

Sometimes, I look back on my decision to do this, and don’t comprehend how stupid I really was. I guess I just pushed the past out of my knowledge, ruling it out as my childhood exaggeration and distortion of fact.

It is an important detail to add that one of my friends, the main two being the frinds I’m referring to, was playing my xbox earlier without my permission, and treated my house like it was his own, setting shoes on my furniture. I wasn’t happy about it, but I figured I’d get him back someday.

 

On with the story. My friends, who I’ll refer to as Ken and Paul for privacy reasons, were assembled with me, and my cousins, Nathan, Michael, and Glorianna, in front of the bonfire. Before we ran across the property, I made it abundantly clear and painfully obvious I did not want anyone going in the woods. I voted myself to be it first since I was hosting, and got a flashlight. Forget how the round played out, and what order I found people in, but for context, I’ll say Ken was hiding behind the chimney, Eric inside eating leftover hamburgers, Glorianna had stayed cleverly next to the fire, blending in with the crowd that was observing our game, Nathan was in a tree, and my friend Jake who apparently joined mid match was under my grandfather’s truck. I had found them all, and they joined me for my search. After scanning basically whole property, it became more worrying for me that Paul had probably once again defied the rules of my house, and went into the woods. Before we could line up at the treeline, Paul came to us, with a worried look on his face. Of course, he had went into the woods. I wasn’t mad though, I was concerned what we were about to learn judging by his petrified face and whiter than snow skin. After questioning him, he explained he had indeed hopped in the forest, and recounted a totally different version of events than the other players knew to happen. You see, when we play, the found hunted stay with the hunter and assist, so it’s like a slow bandwagon building, thus our accounts were all in a sequence. Acccording to Paul, we had come by him several times, walking right in front of him, what sounded like just one of us. He said he threw a stick to draw our attention somewhere else, and instead of follow it, one of us came right next to him. It was at this point he explained to us he realized this was not one of us…. his best description of what it was detailed along the lines of  “An all black person with an animalistic face, like a coyote”

He claimed that when he realized this, he hauled himself out of the brush, and eventually ran into us, after hearing no pursuit.

When I learned this, I told everyone to walk to other side of the house, where the fire was, and just stay there for the night, grilling some marshmellows to forget about what happened. Sometimes on Xbox, me Ken and Paul still talk about this experience, but each time, it becomes less serious. However, whenever we do have a meeting at my house from time to time, we still feel very on end about something in the forest. From the research I’ve done, I’m almost positive that the dark entity in my forest is a skinwalker. To say the least, I don’t venture there anymore, and keep my grandfather from doing the same. I hope anybody that has this experience for themselves has a great faith in God, because without my religion, I don’t know how I would protect myself. That forest is pure evil and I am happier every day knowing I don’t have to go in there again. The dreams still occasionally happen, but I’m safe in my home, it’s been consecrated. I want as many people as possible to know that monsters, or, the paranormal rather, are all too real. Stay safe.

Weird Stories from Mexico

My mother is originally from Oaxaca, Mexico, and she’s shared some creepy stories told by her older relatives with my older brother and me. I kind of wish the only remotely scary thing she had told us was when someone she knew got chased by a cow. But no. That one was funny.

These stories aren’t that “scary”, but they may prevent some from going to Oaxaca, or even Mexico in general.

One afternoon in the kitchen, either my brother or I had brought up the topic of Skinwalkers and the Wendigo.

My brother told me that a video game he played consisted creatures from the Navajo legends like the ones previously mentioned.

Even though my mom’s family isn’t really of Navajo descent, she did tell us about how her entire family thinks that her cousin Vicky is a Skinwalker that turns into a snake. She said they found shed snake skin in the corner of her room.

However, the shed skin was too big, too long to be any regular snake in the area, and why would such a big snake be left alone to stay in Vicky’s room?

Surely her family would’ve gotten rid of it, right? That peaked my interests, for I had already listened to a bunch of Skinwalker encounter stories on the internet.

Eventually, I asked her again for more stories. Instead of another skinwalker story, she told one that’s a little bit weirder. Mom explained that her uncle was driving home after three days of going out, probably to sell goods at the market, spending the night near his stand. While on the road home, his car had stopped moving, and when he tried to start it up again it would’ve.

He wasn’t out of gas nor was there a real problem, and I know this since the car did eventually start up again soon after, but not before her uncle, through the blackness of the night, saw a lot of people, people that had not been anywhere near there before, had suddenly appeared.

Eventually, my mom’s uncle realized they were spirits crossing over the road. They did not make eye contact with him while crossing in front of his car, and then they just disappeared. Like I mentioned before, the car did start up again, but when he got home he was immediately surrounded by his family, who were frantically asking where he had been.

My uncle, confused, said he was only gone for three days like everyone knew about. Every family member disagreed, saying that he had been gone for three years, certainly not three days.

Of course, my great uncle was shocked, and no one had any explanation for why he doesn’t remember three years of his life.

Mom also told me about a family friend who had found a stray donkey carrying some sort of cart or box filled with gold. He brought it home since he didn’t know whose it was, not that he was greedy or anything, he just wanted to take care of the donkey.

His wife was upset with him, exclaiming that it was the devil’s donkey and the devil’s money.

Sometime later, they heard a knock on their door.

The person they opened up to thanked the man for finding their donkey and offered the money the donkey was carrying to him as a thank you. He and his wife both knew what this meant. The devil will come to your door and offer you his money for you to do his dirty work, stating that if you don’t take the offer you will be poor for the rest of your life. That’s exactly what happened.

The man denied the offer, even after the devil at his door insisted continuously. The couple ended up being poor for the rest of their lives, up until the moment of their deaths.

My mom stated that she heard a story of a man who did take the money, and was summoned to a location she didn’t exactly describe, but had been told that the pets of the devil resided there, but all I remember her mentioning was the snakes, since the man actually managed to free himself by stabbing and killing the snake.

I am not a religious person by any real means, but for some reason, I still do believe that demons and human ghosts/spirits do exist. Whether or not the devil himself is real, or whether or not God is real is still something I’m on the fence about (I’m not trying to force my beliefs on anyone, I am just stating an opinion).

I do think Skinwalkers exist for certain, though. I trust my mother’s family one hundred percent, even if some of their stories do seem a little crazy.

I really hope that none of these entities, especially the devil, if he is real, find me after these stories are posted.

 

The Skin-walker in the Woods

Let me just preface this by saying that I am not a person who automatically jumps to paranormal conclusions. I grew up in a household that functions based on logic and reasonable decisions, probably more for my dad’s sake than my own, as he had no idea how to deal with a short, perpetually-angry teenage girl. So admitting to myself that what I saw was real – and not a figment of my imagination – is something that took me months of internal searching and anxiety attacks to finally achieve.

This encounter happened in November of my junior year, during the first weekend of white-tail season. In my family, deer season is only surpassed by Christmas and birthdays in terms of excitement. My dad, younger brother, and I begin preparing ourselves for the hunt months in advance, tracking buck movements with game cameras, making maps to plot where our stands should go, and making sure that my uncle moves his cattle to the correct pasture during the season so that deer movement is not altered. It’s been broken down to a science, and I had been learning since the age of six. To be honest, I thought that there was nothing those woods could throw at me that I hadn’t seen before. Mountain lions? No problem. Coyotes? I’ve probably killed close to a hundred.

But I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

This part of the story may seem tedious, but for you to understand where I’m coming from, it’s required. The stand that I was hunting from that season sat nearly a mile away from the farmhouse on the property where we hunt, deep into a patch of trees. To reach it, I had to walk through a big pasture at the north end of the property, around an electric fence line that was usually live. Once I had walked about half of the way through the field, there was an opening through the old barbed-wire fence, which still stands as an extra precaution against loose cattle, that leads down a fairly steep hill. My stand was about halfway down this hill, placed about thirty feet up in an oak that stood in the middle of a small open patch. At the bottom of this incline – what we call a holler – was an old logging road that deer like to use as a go-between from their bedding area to a food plot growing a bit further north. It’s kind of hard to get to, as there are lots of fallen trees and big rocks to go around, but once you’re there, it’s prime hunting material.

That evening had started like any other. As this was my first solo hunt, I had been really excited to get up into the stand early, determined that I was going to kill the biggest buck possible and make my dad and brother look like wimps. With that in mind, I donned my gear and made the long trek out to my stand around 1:30 that afternoon. Everything seemed like I was going to get really lucky. The air was crisp and cold – my hands had gone numb within the first five minutes of leaving the house – and the deer were moving. In the first two or so hours, I had seen at least seven does and one fairly decent eight-point buck. But he had been young and not quite as large as I was hoping for, so I let him walk.

Looking back on that day, I keep cursing myself for not taking my shot.

Around 4:30 that evening, the sky began to get dark, and I knew that I was about to lose shooting light. There hadn’t been any deer traveling my direction for a while – they tended to make a giant circle throughout the day, so my stand usually got more traffic in the mornings – but I decided to stay until there was absolutely no safe way to take a shot. That was a mistake I will regret for the rest of my life.

As the light faded, I began to grow uneasy. Normally, the squirrels and woodpeckers that lived in this section of the timber would assault me, chattering and shrieking and generally being annoying little shits. But this evening there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. I couldn’t even hear leaves falling from the branches overhead, and it was making me anxious. There was no way that the woods should’ve been this quiet, simply because the ground was so covered in leaves and other foliage that moving even slightest bit would have caused them to crackle. Every nerve in my body was on edge. I checked my cellphone for the time. 5:05 – I had about another twenty minutes until total dark, even though the sun had technically already set. I decided to stay put, as I had my high-powered flashlight in order to find my way back.

That was when I heard the footsteps making their way up the logging trail below me. Now, keep in mind I have been hunting since I was six years old. I know the difference between something that moves on four legs and something that moves on two. I could even tell you the difference between animals based on the sounds they make through the woods. And this thing, whatever it was, most definitely was not moving on four legs. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I instinctively clicked the safety off of my rifle. Everyone hunting on that property knew exactly where the others would be and what time they were to be back at the house for supper. It made no fucking sense for anyone to be clomping around my stand, in the line of fire, at a time where they knew I would not be home.

I waited for a few seconds, completely still. I didn’t even breathe because I was scared someone might hear me in the unnatural silence. Then a set of antlers popped out from behind a thick cluster of baby cedars. My body refused to relax, even though my mind let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sight. Then I realized something that sent me in a mode of utter panic.

The antlers, massive and twisted with thick branching tines, were too far off the ground for it to be a buck. White-tail deer are capable of standing – and even walking – on their back legs for short periods of time. I’ve seen this many times, especially during the rut when males are trying to mark their territory. But something about those antlers were just. . . .off. It’s difficult to explain. But they had to have been at least ten to eleven feet off of the ground, even at an incline, based upon their position in contrast to the trees. My blood froze when it finally stepped out from behind the thick brush and on to the trail leading towards my stand.

There was still enough light to see, and I slowly focused my gaze on the creature still moving up the trail. It was tall, at least nine feet, and the best way I can think of to describe it was humanoid. It’s legs were, in fact, shaped like a white-tailed deer’s hind legs. The knee joints pointed backwards, and they ended in dainty hooves that looked like they would never be able to support the thing. But there was no hair to be found on that thing, whatever it was. Every inch of it was covered in this disgusting scabby-gray skin, and the legs were attached to what looked like an emaciated human chest. Even in the relative darkness, I could see its ribs through the thin epidermis. It’s arms hung long and bony, almost to its knees, and they ended in these gnarled claws that were caked with filth.

But its eyes were the thing that got me, resting in a face that was both human and not. They were milky white and filmy, almost like it was blind. But I knew it could see, because the damned thing was staring right at me.

My heart was pounding so violently I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. I could barely keep myself from sobbing out loud. I have been in the woods all of my life and I had never seen anything like that before. The thing opened its mouth and let out this weird, gurgling howl sound that made every inch of my body go rigid with fear. I couldn’t move. All I could think was “Holy fuck I’m going to die today! This thing is going to fucking kill me!” I was shaking and crying, and my nose was running from a combination of extreme cold and fear.

The thing took another step towards me. I don’t know how I managed it, but I’m pretty sure instinct took over at this point, that primal need to preserve your life at all costs. I raised my rifle and lined up the thing in my sights. Fifty yards off by my guess, in an open patch between the trees, no obstruction. It felt like I had been watching this thing for hours, but – as there was still at least enough light to make out features – it had probably only been for a few minutes. I swallowed and put my finger in the trigger guard, willing my body to stop fucking shaking. My dad only let my brother and I have three bullets in order to show us the importance of making each shot count and kill.

This shot fucking counted.

It took another step forward just as I lined up my cross-hairs on the left side of its bony chest, and I squeezed the trigger. The gunshot reverberated through my body where my .264 magnum was cradled to my shoulder. But I didn’t hear the shot. I couldn’t hear anything. That was the first and God-willing only time I’ve ever heard true silence.

The light was still dying, and it was going fast, so I could barely make out the thing with any sort of clarity anymore. I kept the scope trained on it so I could make sure that I had actually hit the fucking thing. I had. There was a hole in its chest, and blood was running over its ribs.

But it didn’t. fucking move.

The thing just stood there and stared at me, head cocked to the side in this gross parody of a confused dog. I don’t know if it was confused about what it was supposed to do or pissed off that I shot it. Whatever the case, I thought that this fucking thing was about to tear me limb from limb. I started crying harder, so hard that I couldn’t hardly see through the tears anymore, absolutely certain that I was going to die. But nothing happened. The creature stared at me for a long-ass moment with those fucking white, filmy eyes, its claws moving gently at its sides, before it let out this long, blood-curdling shriek. It was unearthly and so loud in the silence that I thought I might go deaf, and I almost pissed myself for terror.

But then the thing just turned around and walked off back the way it came, down the logging trail. I could see the massive hole in its back where my bullet had punched through, but it didn’t seem to be affected. I sat in my stand until it was pitch black out, unable to move, shaking and sobbing. My dad and brother kept texting me, message after message lighting up my screen. But I just couldn’t move. What if it came back? What if it was just circling around and waiting for me to climb down?

There were a thousand possibilities and scenarios, but I only had one realistic choice. I had to climb down. I couldn’t risk my family getting attacked by whatever that thing was just because I was scared and couldn’t find the courage to climb down my fucking ladder.

I shit you not, I have never gotten down from a tree stand so quickly before. Every piece of gear, clothing, and my rifle were on the ground in about a minute, followed by about twelve seconds of ladder climbing, and I was sprinting out of that holler in six layers of thermal wear in about a minute. My gun was loaded and off safety the entire time. Stupid, I know, but I just could not shake the feeling that whatever that thing was would come back. It was lucky that the electric fence wasn’t live, because I plowed through that fucking thing like a renegade steam-roller. My uncle was pissed, but by that point, I couldn’t give two shits.

I got back to the house in about four minutes, out of breath and crying, but I never told anyone about what happened. No one would have believed me, simply because there was no proof. I had no video, no pictures, nothing but my memories and the missing cartridge in my rifle. It took me months of therapy to get over my crippling anxiety attacks, even longer to be able look at the woods again without hyperventilating. My family is convinced that it was a combination of a nightmare that I had in my stand with a bunch of other shit that was going on in my life at the time. I’ll probably never tell them the true reason.

I finally managed to go hunting for the first time since this happened this last season. But I will never go back to that stand, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk through the woods alone again. I’m still not even sure as to what that thing was. The best I could come up with was a skin-walker or wendigo, which doesn’t make any sense as I live in the Missouri Ozarks, and all the tribes that have these legends live in other parts of the United States.

Please, for the love of God, don’t think that you are safe in the trees just because you have a rifle. There are things living in those trees that don’t abide by our laws. They don’t give a fuck if you’ve got a gun. They own the woods, the land, and you simply have the privilege of hunting on it. Take care that they don’t revoke it.

The Twin Skinwalkers

I had the great honor of meeting not one but two skin walkers at the same time. Before I get story telling, let’s go over the landscape. From where I stopped, to the right of me was an open grass field and next to the grass field was the community college I would be later attending. To the left of me was part of the golf course that intertwines with a small forest and path going around. I have been on the path several times before always getting the feeling something wasn’t right about it. It was off, just not right.

I was out doing what I usually do during summer nights, walking around listening to music. Because it was summer the nights were nice an cool. All I needed was a T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts plus my favorite hat and shoes. It was about 12:30 am when I was passing the golf course that is near my house. I got the feeling something was watching me. Stopping, I looked around several times seeing if there was anyone other than myself walking around. Spotting no one I took out my headphones to listen, hoping I could find out that way. It was then that I realize it was quiet way too quiet. I’ve learned that there should almost always be some type of natural sounds being made. I heard absolutely nothing.

I stood still for a moment thinking, remembering I had actually brought my flashlight. Being delighted that I had brought it, for I had the thought maybe it was an animal staring at me. Reaching down to my pocket I pulled out to my flashlight hoping to catch glowing eyes. I caught glowing eyes alright. I stood stock still as I stared at what was before me. I did not, did not expect two pairs of glowing orange eyes staring right at my being. Never have I seen glowing orange eyes before.

Not sure what to do other than stay still as possible. I just stared right on back. It was then I noticed how high the pair of eyes were off the ground. The eyes were I don’t know maybe 7ft off the ground. “Shit, what kind of animal stands that tall living here? Fuck…a deer? Haha.” mumbling to myself. I also noticed they never blinked not once. It was a bit creepy. Standing there for literally ten minutes just staring, I had already gotten over being scared. Thinking of what I should do. I really didn’t want to get any close then I was, I didn’t want to fight either with two small ass pocket knives. Keeping the same path wasn’t a good idea either, I’d be going right pass them. Running might be my only option.

With that on my mind I slowly started to turn my back so it was facing the field. My flashlight still on the glowing eyes. Still going slow as before I stepped back, taking baby steps. When I thought I got far enough away for a good head start if whatever it was decided to give chase. Before turning off and pocketing my flashlight I remember I was still had my music going. Looking down for a second, I saw my ear buds hanging out of my shirt. I’ve always disliked them swinging back an worth while running so I decided to listen to the music playing at the time. I shove the ear buds into my ears. I really liked this song too so, I crank up the volume. Quickly I turn off the flashlight and putting it in my pocket, I put my right leg back. Turning fast I take off into a mad dash for home. I was going fast enough that my hat almost flew off, quickly turning the hat around so it doesn’t fall off I continue to sprint. Telling myself just run, faster, faster, faster. I do the one thing you don’t want to do. Look behind yourself.

I’m curious by default so of course I look behind to see if they gave chase. An what do you know! One of them did, but it confused me. From the short glimpse I got of it, it looked to be a really big coyote borderline wolf size. The sight of that made my adrenaline go an all time high because I was pumping my legs to go even faster. I ran the fastest I ever ran all the way home. When getting home I realized my only way in was through the garage. Looking behind me I saw nothing but I wasn’t going to relax. Pushing in the code I opened it just enough to get under the door. Rushing over to the other side to close it was finally when my adrenaline stopped. I felt the like throwing up, my lungs burning as if they were on fire. I was gasping for air, slumping to the ground just sitting there for a moment. Catching my breath I got up and made my way for the door, still panting slightly.

For nights after this event did I wonder what the hell I saw.  It wasn’t until weeks later while listening to DarknessPrevails during a video about skin walkers did I realize that maybe what I saw was a skin walker. This is maybe the second scariest run in I’ve had with a monster.

 

They Are Always Watching

Hi, my name is Ella,  I’m 18 years old and I live in Arizona. I am full blooded Cherokee Indian, so I’m no stranger to stories about the skin walkers. My grandfather always warned me about them, saying they would love to get ahold of me and my friends. I am very open minded when it comes to things like this, but, I must say, even this may be hard to believe, but I swear, this really happened. I was upstairs in my room and I woke up to my phone going off. It was my friend, Kynzie. She had texted me asking if I wanted to sneak out to go to the park with her. I of course said no because it was only six O’clock in the morning. A few minutes later she said, “Well I guess you’re going to miss out on all of the fun with Chris and Logan lol.”

My heart skipped a beat as I read this because Chris and Logan are the hottest guys in my school. So my dumbass texts her back that I’ll be outside in 20. (She lives down the road from me.) After I got dressed I sprayed my favorite perfume and put on flavored lip gloss, just in case. I opened my window and she was waiting for me. Chris and Logan were with her. I say “Hey, how are you guys?” They all say good and Chris asked me if I needed help getting down. I said “Sure haha.” Blushing, I shimmy my self out onto the roof and he was like ” Come on, I promise I’ll catch you.” I hate heights so I pretty much had to force myself to jump, but when I did, I felt Chris’s hands grasp me. He put me down and we began walking to the park.

On the way, both of the boys were staring at me and I personally didn’t care because they’re hot. ( Keep in mind I am very developed for my age and Kynzie is pretty skinny) I felt kinda bad because Kynzie was kind of forgotten about so I say ” Hey Kynzie, what time is it?” She replied, ” 6:18″.

We arrived around 6:30 and I was pretty excited. There is a woods next to the park and we went into the woods. Needless to say, we started getting a little feisty. We began making out when we heard a sort of, moan. Not that type of moan either. Like a demonic moan. We became still and quiet. Then this fucking cackle came out of nowhere and we began to hear heavy, loud footsteps fastly approaching us. They has no pattern, they were just jumbled and discord. It was pretty light out side and we saw this dog. It was HUGE. It just looked at us. There was something off about this, “dog”. I kept looking at it and noticed that it’s huge eyes weren’t like a dog’s sweet, brown eyes.

They looked like human eyes. You could see the whites of them and it kept looking at all of us over and over again. It was sneering at us, so me, being an animal lover said ” Hey big guy, It’s o-” it interrupted me with the most evil, ear piercing howl. It sounded like a screaming woman with static and deep growls all at the same time. It shook me to my core. I look behind me and Chris’s face was as white as snow.

The dog ran away, and as we watched it, I noticed thsat it didn’t have a tail. Then the smell hit. I can’t even begin to describe what it smelled like. All I can say is, it smelled like death. Kynzie threw up because it was so putrid.  I said ” G-guys, we should go. ” We noped the hell out of there and began running back into the park. As we were running, we heard that ear piercing howl again. It was so, freaking loud. I began sobbing. We made it back to Kynzie’s house after 10 minutes of sprinting. I threw up in her yard from running so hard. Chris walked me back to my house and I went in. My mom had gone to work and she didn’t even think to check on me in my room. Thank god.

I told my grandfather about it and he said that it was most likely and Skin walker. He blessed me and my friends and gave us silver. (Skin walkers hate silver) We never spoke of it again. I was 16 at the time and Chris and I are now living together. That thing is still out there and some poor kids are going to have the same thing happen to them. I pray that that thing goes back to hell where it belongs.