Werewolf in Georgia

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What Im about to tell is very true. Only

two other people know about it one being

my wife, the other being a friend that was

with me.

Id like to give a little back story of me,

so maybe you can understand my skills

and abilities. I grew up hunting and

fishing. I was taught from the age that I

could understand, to respect wild life,

nature, and all of natures creatures. Ive

hunted with the greatest teachers and

studied their habits as to what makes

them as good as they are. My family is of

native american descent and our

teachings have been passed down

throughout the generations. I am often

requested to guid peoe on new land that

they purchas or lease for hunting because

of my abilities to read wildlife signs. I say

all of this so you can understand that not

much scares me in the woods and water.

On the evening of November 12 2005, I

was as scared as Ive ever been.

My friend and I were on an evening deer hunt on a very old farm in middle

Georgia. My friend was complaining

about trail cameras going missing, so after

the hunt, we were going to wait around

and watch to see if anyone was snooping

around and stealing his cameras.

The hunt was lousy. It was

unseasonably cold, the sky was perfectly

clear and a bright moon, not quite full was

coming up. Legal hunting times had

ended so i was waiting at he base of my

stand to listen for my friends truck to

come down the road to get me. After a

few minutes i heard him honk the horn.

The area I was in was an old cut out

bowl shaped depression where an

abandoned mica mine is. Theres a natural

spring that flows out of he mine and I

remember how eerily quiet it was and

that the only sound to be heard was the

water trickling in he spring coming out of

that mine. I squatted down and got a

drink of water and began my hike out of

the woods.

After walking about 200 yards, I came

to the old trail that bordered a dense pine

thicket and the hardwoos where the mine

is. I stopped for a minute to shuffle my

back pack and change the arm I carried

my rifle on. I froze in place. When i

stopped I heard foot steps continue for

three to four more steps and stop. I carry

a pisol and a rifle due to the areas i hunt

are known to have wild hogs and coyotes.

I took my pen light and clipped it to the

bill of my hat, checked my pistol and made

sure it was loaded with onen in the

chamber and loaded my rifle. This wasnt

hog steps or coyote steps. What ever it

was was big and had the stride of a man.

Slowly, as if i was stalking a deer, I

began to walk. When you stalk hunt, you

make four to five carefully placed steps

and stop to survey the area for several

minutes while looking and listening fo

movement. The light on my cap was not

turned on at this point. If you have good

moon light and your yes are adjusted you

keep the light off and trust your eyes and

ears. I didnt hear or see anything. I

stayed still for several minutes. I stalked

five long, quiet steps and stopped again.

At this point i was over 10 yards away

from my first stopping point. I froze. I

could hear breathing and what sounded

like what can only be explained as a large

dog or bear sniffing for my scent. That

huff, huff, sniff, sniff sound a dog makes

when he knows you have his favorite

treat. Think about that for a minute.

So, my friend and I, Ill call him Dwight

as to not reveal his real name, have played

some crazy pranks on each other over the

years. I stood there and said “Dwight,

what are you doing man Im ready to go.”

All I heard was a very low guttral growl.

Immediately I stalked in a straffing

position across the path with my pistol

drawn and pointed back down the path

from the direction I came from, and the

direction I heard the growl. I knew I was

being hunted. Glock model 20 10 mm in

one hand, bowie knife on my belt and a

.270 winchester on my back, I was

prepared. I made my way quietly up the

opposite side of the path toward where

Dwight was waiting. I could hear his

engine running and I could hear footsteps

getting closer.

I stopped and listened briefly nd could

hear the footsteps. In a very thick pine

thicket, it is hard for a decent dog to track

its game. That was the only tactic I had

and i used it. I was now where i could see

the glow of Dwights headlights up the

path. I raised my pistol and fired three

times in rapid succession signaling to

Dwight that I was in distress, nd I bolted

up the path in a full sprint. Branches and

limbs cracked behind me and I heard this

god aweful growl say “GET OUT!”. What I

heard was a mix of a human voice and the

deepest predator growl I have ever heard.

Twenty yards from Dwights truck and I

see muzzle flash and hear the crack of a high powered rifle. Dwight is leaned up

on the hood of his truck and shooting in

my direction. I hear a deep scream and

howl, but i didnt look back, I kept running.

In Dwights truck qith the windows up

and the doors locked and pistols sitting on

our laps, Dwight is looking down the path

in shock. I ask him what is it? He doesnt

answer. I shook him and he points down

the path. I see yellowish green glowing

eyes standing just a bit over 6 foot on the

left side of the path, and a dark figure of a

man standing on two feet covered in hair

that is as black as the darkest night. It

squats down and looks like its licking its

wound and raises back up and smashes an

oak tree that 6 inches across with its hand.

The tree doesnt fall but we both saw bark

and chips fly from the tree. In the light we

could see it looking at us in a stand off,

with its lips rolled up and could clearly see

its ears and teeth. It looked old. Like and

old man. One fang was broken and part of

an ear was missing. Dwight backed out

slowly. I kept my eyes in the direction of

where we saw the creature.

The next day, Dwight and I took

different rifles and went right back to the

spot where we last saw the creature. We

found the tree it smashed. There was a bit

of blood on the ground as well as hair. I

took samples of blood and all the hair I

could find.

A weird thing happened while we were

there. The old man, who owned the

property and his helper pulled up. The

helper said that the old man asked that we

not come back and hunt. Dwight was the

original person who got permission and

we had done a lot of fence repair to get

permission. He started to the old mans

truck an the helper stopped him. The

helper said “Mr. (So and so) got hit by one

of his bulls yesterday and he aint feeling

well at all. He asked me to bring him

down here and ask you fellas not to come

back and to be nice about it but he dont

want no one here.” The helper then

handed Dwight $500 and handed me $200

” for the work we did”. We got our deer

stands out. Never found another camera

and never went back to this day.

We did get word rom the old mans

nephew when he angrily told Dwight that

the old man died a week later due to his

injury from the bull. The nephew did

extend an offer to hunt there again but we

refused. The nephew made a smart

comment about “thats probably for the

best”. I dont want to say how that all ties

in together. Use your imagination.

I still have the samples and hair but not

real sure what to do with them for fear of

government intervention or something

even more sinister.

Every word is true. No there are no cell

phone pics. There wasnt even cell phone

service in that area back then. No we cant

take anyone there.

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