I was born 22 years ago in a small Colorado town an hour’s drive from both Farmington and Durango, just below Mesa Verde and a few miles from Ute Mountain. This was where I spent the first five years of my life before moving to Oklahoma. We still go back every year around summer for about a week or so to see family.
Now, the town being where it was, there was a heavy Native American population there and a reservation about ten miles away. Mostly Ute but a fair amount of Navajo as well. The culture was and still is very entwined into the town’s architecture and local art.
Now, as for the skinwalkers. As a child, I never learned the word or what it meant. Years later I came to learn that my mother (a white woman who had grown up well away from Native American culture and legend) always shuddered at the mention and hated the topic. She’s one of the ones who doesn’t necessarily believe in such things but she can’t be certain they aren’t real. I myself am a little more certain.
Read more “Always Uneasy When I Visit”
This story happened to me over the span of about 5 years, starting back in 1999 during my second year of middle school and ending near my 18th birthday. Before I begin, I’d like to apologize for the length of this story, as it really means a lot to me and I feel that I need to spend some time explaining all of the details. Now I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts and spirits and all that. Even now, I find it very hard to place my trust in the supposed paranormal encounters that I hear from time to time. However, these events that I’m about to share changed my life forever, and I will never think about life and death the same way again.
The story starts when I was 12 years old and attending 7th grade in Black Forest Colorado. I didn’t have many friends at the time because I was new to the area, and I was also a bit shy. I can’t even recall who I was friends with back then. However, I remember very clearly the day that I met her. She was a tall blonde girl who always had this sad and confused look in her eyes. Her name was Allie. I had seen her around the school before, and I knew that there was something a little off about her, like she had some kind of mental disability or something. Whenever I saw her she was always sitting somewhere by herself and drawing in her notebook.
People would make fun of her all the time because she was so quiet, like she literally never said a word to anyone. Ever. I actually thought that she might have been mute. It wasn’t until about half way through the semester when I noticed her standing near the school entrance, clutching her notebooks tightly to her chests, and looking as though she was about to cry. A few kids were holding up a picture that she had drawn, waving it around in the air while taunting her like a bunch of entitled assholes with nothing better to do than to humiliate this poor girl.
Read more “Homesick”
This happened a few years ago; I think I was in 6th grade. One of my friends invited me and a few others over to her house to watch the new season of My Little Pony (Yes we were obsessed with it back then). I’m going to call her Callie for privacy reasons. Well, we had been playing in a creek by her house when she told us of a neat park that was a short walk away.
We all thought that sounded great so we decided we were going to take her large dog, I can’t remember the breed but she was short haired and reminded me of a greyhound, her name was Sweetie, and she lived up to that name, since all five of us were greeted with wet slobbery licks each time she saw us. We had a dinner of pizza and ice cream with root beer floats to wash it down. It was probably around 7 when we left the house.
Now I want to describe Callie’s house, it was old, and two stories tall with a basement where her brother slept, all the windows had large bars on them. It had a backyard with an ancient tree, and the ground was slightly overgrown. A rickety fence with a broken metal gate led to a small dimly lit alley. Similar alleys crossed around the neighborhood, and there weren’t too many street lights, so everything was in a washed out yellow light. So we left around 7 from the backyard and started up the alley, we took Sweetie since she needed a walk and we hoped that we might be able to get to the park before nightfall.
Read more “There was Something Hunting Us”