The Scream that saved

I’ve been wanting to tell this story for a while now. I go to college in Oklahoma City and learned an aquaintece of mine needed a place to stay. Apparently the shabby place he was living in had been condemned and I knew his parents had died in a car crash a few months prior. He was a really nice guy and I cleared it with my parents, who I still lived with. He really appreciated the offer but initially declined. We were both 22 at the time, but he said he had a little sister who lived with him who was 10 years younger. I again cleared it with my parents and then the guy was happy to move in.

I want to make it clear that I don’t mean this in any sort of incestuous way, but the guy was completely devoted to his sister. He even joked about it, saying that whatever she wanted she got, but she was far from spoiled and never really asked for anything. She always offered to help out around the house and if she asked for something it was stuff like for one of us to drive her and her friends to the mall or to watch cartoons on my friends laptop.

One night we had a family dinner, which ended in a game of cards, which the little sister didn’t know how to play, so she asked to watch cartoons in the living room and fell asleep on the couch. As soon as my friend noticed he popped up and covered her with a blanket. We all chuckled at his attendance to her. Now, at this point he and I had had quite a few beers and were a bit tipsy. He laughed and nodded as he sat back down and then said something that startled us.

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Always Uneasy When I Visit

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.

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The Little People

I live in Canada, and am Anishinaabe-Ojibwe. The encounter I am sharing today is one of the many strange stories my family and I have to tell. I was going to tell the story of my dad’s spiritual guidance, who happens to be a Bigfoot, but that’s for another time. This is a person experience, but members of my family’s.

Ever since I can remember my siblings and I been surrounded by spiritual things and have had a good understanding of explainable things, as many of the elders in my family were medicine men/women. Little people are known to live on the reservation where I’m from, and as long as we don’t bother them, they don’t bother us. But that’s only on our reserve, agreements aren’t gonna be the same everywhere.

This encounter happened to my brother, who at the time was only three, and my father, twenty five. We’ll call my brother Jake. My dad had just put my brother asleep and decided to watch the television before he himself went to bed. In the living room was a hallway that lead to Jake’s room, and where the couch and television were placed made it so that you can’t see into the hallway.

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Navajo Skinwalker in Colorado

My story begins in Colorado. I was 14 years old at the time. My family was taking a trip to visit my grandmother, who lives deep in the country. We were planning to stay over a few nights and enjoy the peace and quiet of the country. I’ve always been more of an in-doorsy person, but I did love taking a nice hike through the woods from time to time.

The highway drive was long and uneventful, but once we finally got there, I was super excited. After all, I had my own room in the beautiful cabin my grandmother lived in, with an amazing view of the lake and forest surrounding the property. I exchanged greetings with her, and, after a few minutes of idle conversation, headed to my room. I pulled out my laptop and began to get setup for a quality gaming session when I first heard the howling.

It sounded like a wolf’s cry, but slower, almost distorted. Like, if you recorded the howl, played it back at half the speed, and lowered the pitch. It was creepy, but, having little to no experience living in the country, I brushed it off, mentally categorizing it as a different animal.

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