My Encounters with Werewolves

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So, before I begin with my whole story about what I’ve seen I need to fill you in on a little bit. I’ve seen two werewolves in my life: one when I was around the age of fourteen, and the other just tonight (age of nineteen). I live in the southern part of Kansas, so there’s mostly countryside, where these sightings took place.

So, on with the first one. I lived out in the countryside of Kingman County, where my closest neighbor was around a mile away. My parents would let me take night-time walks during the summer; which was when this happened, the summer of 2012. I was on one of my routine walks, down to the paved road about a mile-and-a-half away, and back. On the way down south to the paved road there was a group of trees that always kinda scared the childish part of me: it was so dark and you could always hear animals in there. Well, I would always jog past that part at night, and go along my way to the end of the dirt road. I remember running past the patch of trees, almost freezing when I heard what sounded like coyotes; and, that’s when I saw what I honestly thought was one of the farmers doubled over in his field.

It wasn’t unusual for farmers to be out working at night (it was cooler than the day, that’s for sure), so I slowed down to look over to see if he was alright. This figure, crouched down in the middle of a wheat field to my left, almost seemed to sense that I was watching it. I know because it looked up directly at me and I felt my heart start hammering in my chest with the horrible, malevolent eyes glaring at me. My body was screaming for me to run, just run the hell away and scream for help, but I couldn’t move. You know how, in the movies, they always say how it feels like you got frozen into ice and you couldn’t do anything but watch? That’s not exactly what it was like; you see, it wouldn’t know I was scared.

I remember it stood, and it towered over me at about six-to-seven feet tall. The field it stood in was at least three feet higher than the road, so I couldn’t exactly tell what height it was for sure. I just couldn’t take my eyes away from its own, as I knew my impending death was sure to come. I just knew that they would find my body torn to shreds in the middle of the road, and that would be the end of Cheyenne as the world would know it.

The werewolf (looking back, I think that it might have been female, because it had a slightly larger chest) took a couple steps toward me, sniffing the warm breeze blowing from the south. Its eyes, a sickly yellow, still watched me standing there. It took another step, before seeming to change its mind and get back on all fours and trotting to the patch of trees.
I waited, my legs still screaming to run while my brain told me to wait, told me it was a trap. So I waited, standing as still as possible while my eyes scanned the trees and field. Minutes went by, before my phone went off with a text message.

I knew I was already fucked if it was still there, so I looked at my phone. “When are you going to be back? I need help with laundry”. I couldn’t believe it, I had just survived meeting a werewolf, and now I was going to do laundry when I got home.

I turned and began the too long walk back home, about a mile-and-a-quarter; when I met the grove of trees, I sprinted past, hoping that that creature wasn’t still in there watching me. Needless to say, I got home safe to help my mom with laundry. I never told her about my encounter, because I knew she would think I was a complete nut-job.

Now, on to my second encounter. It took place tonight (January 29, 2017) around 3 AM. I live in Harper County, Kansas now, with my husband. We were hanging out with his brother tonight, playing Dungeons and Dragons. I know, we’re dorks, but it’s our version of family fun. Well, around 2 AM I got cravings for some ice cream, so we went to the next town over to Casey’s to get some. The drive there was nice, with us singing along to music in the car. We ate our ice cream at the General Store before heading back home.

This time, instead of taking the highway, we went down the dirt roads. We went down one of the roads, 20 Ave, for about a mile before I got this sick feeling in my stomach like we were being followed. I knew there weren’t any vehicles around, because there were no lights at all. Not even tail lights, or brake lights, nothing. So, I turned and started heading west for about a mile, still feeling like there was something almost hunting us. So, I turned heading back south towards town, on a dirt road that many people in our county call Whiskey Road. A lot of people believe that the road is cursed or haunted, because of how many wrecks there are on the road, and how many people have died. Well, I figured since it goes straight to town it would be our best bet.
So, we’re going south for about a half-mile before I ask my husband, “Are the car doors locked?”

“I don’t know, want to stop so we can check? Open the doors and close them again to make sure?” he answers.

I shook my head, looking in the rear-view mirror as I press the lock button a few times. I see that my husband’s brother, who’s thirteen years old, is passed out in the backseat.

“What’s wrong?” my husband asks.

“I feel like we’re being followed,” I answer quietly, so that I don’t wake his brother up and scare him. “But not by a person, more like…”

“Something supernatural?”

Now, you should know that my husband and I are Wiccans. We believe in magic, and spirits, and supernatural beings. We tend to keep that hidden, because many people in our town would kinda go on a witch hunt if they knew. So it wasn’t unusual for us to have a conversation like this.

“Yeah,” I answered before tapping the brake to go over a bump in the intersection. I could see, in the taillights, that there was something behind us in the dust. I couldn’t quite make it out, but I knew what it was. I knew, from those almost-five years ago, exactly what it was.

“It’s not the road,” I answered my husband’s next question. “It starts with a ‘W’.”

I had told him a few times before of my encounter with the above-mentioned werewolf. I had told him how it felt, and how it was real. How huge it was, and how terrified I was.


“Werewolf,” I whispered, tapping the brakes again to see if I can make it out any better. I could feel that it had moved.

You know, how when you feel like you’re being watched, you can almost feel what direction it’s coming from? It was like that, I could feel where it was following us from. To the back, near the driver’s side. My side.

I couldn’t see it in the taillights, so I kept going, speeding up. I was terrified, knowing that the road was dangerous because of how many wrecks happen, but knowing that if that thing caught us it would be worse.

At the next intersection, I tapped the brakes again, making sure to check both ways for any other cars. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw it again, but only its back haunches. The legs were human like, but the ankles and feet resembled that of a wolf; like, it had knees and thighs and shins, but from the ankle on it was all wolf. It was trying to hide in the dust.

My husband was worried, asking what we were going to do. I didn’t answer, I was too busy watching out the mirror and trying to watch the road at the same time.

“Can you see it?”

“It was behind us.”

We go a little bit more, and I could feel it was back on my side of the car, but still a little behind. I was going around forty to forty-five miles per hour, so the fact that it was keeping up sent shivers down my spine. My head was aching from all the pressure inside; sensing where it was at, and the fear I felt, was causing too much pressure to build up.

“I almost want to press the brakes to see if I can see it again,” I whispered, eyes roaming both fields. “But I don’t want it to catch up.”

“Don’t,” my husband said, head whipping back and forth to try to catch a glimpse of the creature.

“I’ll have to at the intersection, so we don’t flip,” I said. I put pressure on the brake, eyes back on the mirror. I saw it, front paws (more like hands with claws, honestly) in the tall grass on the side of the road, while the rest of it stretched across the dirt road. Its head was turned toward us, eyes piercing like I remembered the other one’s being. It was huge, even as it stood on all fours; it had to be at least eight feet tall, to stretch across the road like that.

My husband only saw its haunches, at that time. But later, the next time our lights went on, he saw its arms. Its front arms were huge, almost gorilla-like with the bulky muscles that stood out on them. He says he saw it’s face at one point: it was almost human-like, if that’s what you want to call it. It had the muzzle of a dog, but the eyes were definitely human. It had ears like a wolf, but they were laid back; like when a dog is angry and lays their ears back. He says it was definitely out for blood. He saw its mouth open but couldn’t see its teeth. I wish I could say the same. Its teeth were huge, even in the short glimpse I caught.

We started to see the lights from town, and I sped up. I was going fifty miles per hour, and this thing was keeping up. I felt my blood pumping through my veins heatedly, too fast. I felt like I was either going to wreck or get eaten alive. I looked in the rear view mirror again and saw my husband’s brother, still asleep through all of this terror. I couldn’t let this thing get him, he was just a kid. So I kept driving fifty, down a road everyone in the county would swear up and down was cursed.

Next intersection, I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was on my side. The one after that, it was on the other side. At one point, my husband and I both swore that it pulled back, almost like it stopped, before starting back up on the passenger side. Wherever it was, we could always feel it, its presence all too there. The edge of town grew closer, and I explained my plan to my husband.

“I’m not going to go straight home, okay?”


“If it’s going to follow us, I want to try to throw it off our trail before we do go home.”

“Yeah, don’t want it following us home and ending up eating the cats.”

“It’s not the cats I’m worried about,” I deadpanned.

“I’m talking best case scenario,” he answered.

We got to the very northern edge of town, and I could feel the thing pull back, but it was still coming. It didn’t like the light, that’s for sure. Eventually, about three blocks before Main Street, I couldn’t feel it anymore. It was gone.

Still, I told my husband. “I’m almost afraid to leave the car when we do get home. We locked the house.”

“I’ll wake Gunner up,” he said. Gunner is my husband’s brother. My husband reached to the backseat and shook him. “Wake up. When I tell you to get out of the car, I want you to run to the house, okay?”

“Okay?” Gunner said, his voice groggy with sleep.

“Give him the house key, he’ll be able to get it open fastest,” I said.

I was wrong, when we parked the car in the driveway. Gunner got up and ran to the house all right, but he took forever to open the door. My husband and I stood with our backs to him, watching for if that werewolf showed up. I had my car keys ready like a knife, and I heard the lock of the door click before we came in.

We’ve been inside since, and I’m still trying to calm down. I really thought we were going to die out there, either from that beast or the road. I’m just glad that we lost track of it, and I hope we don’t come across it again. I probably won’t be going down dirt roads at night again, anytime soon.

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