This happened not too long ago at my dad's house in Charleston.
It was about a month back I think.
I was in my room and couldn't sleep so I just decided to watch
TV. I've always had a weird feeling
about my room at my dad's place. You see, we have this small room
behind a bookshelf that opens like a door.
I've lived in that house since I was 7.
I've never been scared of it before, even as a little kid.
But for some reason my room has been freaking me out lately.
The creaking of the ceiling fan, the faint noise of the air vent
that barely works, it all seems a bit unnerving.
As I was watching TVI heard something coming from the
bookshelf door, a faint tapping noise.
I rewound the show I was watching to see if it was part
of the program, but I didn't hear the tapping this time.
Once I turned off the TVI heard the tapping again.
I just assumed it was my dog who sometimes wakes up in the middle
of the night. Now I'm not going to say the
tapping didn't scare me, it definitely did.
I tried to go to sleep but the tapping started once more,
louder than the first time. Scarlett, I know that's you, I
yelled thinking it was my little sister.
The tapping then stopped and I heard a voice at the door that
sounded like my little sister. Macy, please can I sleep in your
room tonight? I can't sleep, The voice said,
but I knew it wasn't my sister. My sister would not have started
talking to me outside of my door like that voice did.
The voice sounded like my sister, but something about it
also sounded inhuman. I didn't reply to it, I didn't
say anything. I didn't know exactly what to
think of it all. All I knew was that it was not
my sister. I then heard slow stomping as
the thing at my door began to walk away.
I locked my door and kept my lights on.
I don't exactly know how I went to sleep after that, but I did.
The night after my dad and my little sister went to the store,
I was home alone. I was on the phone with my
friend as I was scared that that thing would show up again.
After about an hour she had to go, so I said goodbye and hung
up. Reluctantly, I went downstairs
to watch a movie with my dog. I didn't feel so creeped out.
After all, my dog is a £150 Great Dane.
Halfway through our movie, I heard a knocking at the front
door. Hello, I got locked out of my
house, can you please help me? It sounded like my neighbor.
I walked over to the door and was about to open it when a
thought popped into my head. That's not my neighbor, she
should be out of town. I quickly backed away from the
door, grabbed a knife from the kitchen in case whatever was
outside tried to get in. The knocking got faster and
louder. Tears welled up in my eyes.
I was so afraid. After a while the knocking
stopped and the thing outside walked away.
My dog was cowering in a corner instead of barking.
Eventually my dad and my sister came home and we all went to
bed. After that night, I've not heard
the thing again. I'm still scared of my room to
this day, but as long as I have my lamp on, I'm OK.
I will never forget those experiences.
This story includes my personal account and my friends multiple
encounters. Let's start with mine.
I'm from rural southern Ontario, Canada.
I was 18 years old and in college, often getting home late
due to professors having other jobs and teaching us on the
side. In late November I noticed that
whenever I came home and went to unlock the house, the noises
would stop. For context, I live on a main
side Rd. with bushes dotted along the road.
My house is situated across from a Bush with two rows of trees on
one side and more Bush at the back of the house.
For about two months I shrugged it off as the cold pushing all
the animals South or them hibernating.
That was until one night I was taking out the garbage to the
laneway late at night because the garbage truck was coming
early in the morning. As I rolled the bins to the end
of the laneway, I noticed a pair of eyes staring at me through
the bushes. I instantly felt dread pour
through my body, so I booked it back to the house.
When I looked behind me there was nothing.
Not a light insight except for the house lights.
I shrugged it off as the house lights reflecting off of
something down there. Those were my first two signs
that something was out there. About a month and a half later,
I got out of my truck to go inside the house through the
garage. As I was about to open the
garage, I heard a blood curdling scream from the middle of our
field, maybe 400 feet away. It took me a second to unfreeze
myself, and then I quickly opened the garage door and
booked it inside. Since then, things have gone
back to normal for me. I hear birds, owls at night and
even coyotes until one week in the spring there should have
been birds out chirping and crickets being out and about,
but I didn't hear a thing. I remember thinking that thing
was back and a feeling of being watched accompanied me every
time I was outside. Now on to my friend's story.
This also takes place in Ontario.
He's had three encounters with what I think was a skinwalker.
I'll share the story from his perspective.
I was on my way to my girlfriend's dad's cabin in
Ontario around Algonquin. We were about 20 minutes out
from his place. The drive had been peaceful so
far. The two of us were exhausted
from the long drive. Out of nowhere I saw this dog on
the road. It was a kilometer away, but
just sitting there, not moving. I started to slow down.
I flicked my high beams off and on, but nothing it wouldn't
budget. I slowed down even more until I
was about 3 meters away from it. Suddenly my girlfriend spoke up.
What the heck? Why is it just sitting there?
I shrugged and continued to watch it closely.
Then I watched it get up and begin to walk around towards the
passenger side of the car. Not breaking eye contact with
me. I kept staring at it until it
was around the back of the car. I think that's the neighbor's
dog, Said my girlfriend. They have two dogs, maybe one of
them got out. OK, I'm going to walk to the
house and see if they're home to see if their dogs are there.
Could you go grab it? I nodded and the two of us got
out, going our separate ways. I could see the dog through the
car's tail lights and the house lights.
As I started to walk towards it, it began to move away in a kind
of sideways walk, all while keeping eye contact with me.
Weird I thought, how was it keeping pace with me like that?
I decided to start jogging after it and still somehow it kept
pace with me. Then it started getting faster.
It was strange, I was jogging pretty fast and it was just out
walking me. It then began to bark in a weird
way, like every bark after the first was just a copy paste of
the first one, like a program or something.
Same pitch and everything. It then ran backward into the
ditch and I followed it. By now I was around a kilometer
away from the car, so I couldn't see anything.
I could hear it barking out there, but it seemed far away.
I went into a Sprint and got to where it sounded like it was
coming from and nothing. I then heard more barking
farther away, somewhere else. That's not possible, I thought.
I can't be running that fast. I then pulled out my phone and
turned on the flashlight. As I did, I saw something run
across the road into the opposite ditch.
Then something even stranger happened.
The dog stood up on its hind legs and ran into the trees on
those legs. I froze.
Then when I broke out of my state of paralysis, I truly
realized how far away I was from the car.
I turned around and ran as quickly as I could back to my
car. My blood was really pumping.
Then I felt as if I'd gone into fight or flight mode, like that
thing could possibly be on my heels.
I tried to run even faster. As I drew close to the car, I
saw my girlfriend running towards it.
Get in, she called. We have to leave.
We both hopped into the car and gunned it down the road.
I looked in the rear view mirror and that dog was sitting in the
road again, about 5 meters from where the car was.
What happened? She said.
I steadied my breathing then told her what happened.
She started to cry and told me something.
I walked up to that house. No one was home, but the door
was open and the screen door was shut.
I peered inside. Both their dogs were asleep on
the couch just fine. I don't know what you were
chasing because it looked like you were chasing a replica of
one of their dogs. I heard footsteps and saw you
running and I knew something was wrong.
We were both shaken up and made it to the cabin ready for a
sleepless night. That was my friend's first
experience. His second happened at the cabin
he stayed at about 20 minutes from where the first encounter
was. Here's that story.
My girlfriend and I were staying at our cabin in the woods one
weekend. We had a good time and went to
bed drunk. I woke up in the middle of the
night with a dry throat, so I went off to get some water.
As I was drinking, I had an urge to smoke a cigarette, so I
opened the screen door and walked outside along the wet
grass. I pulled out my pack of
cigarettes and lit one. It was a peaceful night, very
quiet. I was half asleep still, so I
didn't notice the lack of noise around.
As I took a drag of the cigarette, I noticed a coyote
walking up. This thing's got balls, I
thought as I kept smoking. The large coyote walked up about
10 meters from me, got up onto a picnic table and sat there.
As I looked at it, it seemed off.
It had patches of fur missing, seemed a little too skinny, and
it sat more like how a man would sit if he were pretending to be
a dog. Its joints were just skin and
bone. Somehow it didn't really click
with me just how off this thing was.
So I finished my cigarette. I flicked the butt towards the
thing in front of me, and both me and this thing watched it
fall to the ground. I stared at the cigarette for a
second and looked up. Within that brief moment, the
thing was gone, like it had never been there.
Wow, I must be really drunk. I mumbled as I turned away and
walked inside to bed. My friend's last encounter was
again in the same place on yet another weekend.
Here it is in the fall of 2023. My girlfriend and I were again
at her dad's cabin in Southern Ontario.
It was a weekend of just her and me drinking with ourselves and
the cats. It was a good night.
At around midnight we were watching a movie when I noticed
something was weird. The insects outside that I could
clearly hear a moment ago went silent.
Not a sound. I didn't really focus on that
fact and instead watch the movie.
As the movie came to a close, I felt a feeling of dread.
I looked over at the two cats that lived in that cabin.
They were staring at the door that led outside, hair straight
up mewing weirdly. My girlfriend started to get
scared and I tried to reassure her.
Then we heard a thump upstairs. What the heck was that?
My girlfriend whisper screamed. I don't know but I'll go check
it out. I said.
I grabbed the machete that was beside the door and went
upstairs with the wood creaking all around me.
Just a possum or raccoon I thought as I hit the top of the
steps. As I walked through the upstairs
I noticed it was coming from the roof.
I could hear something walking around on the roof up there and
it was big. I hustled back downstairs but
had to keep calm as I saw that my girlfriend was now crying.
It's fine, it's nothing. Probably just a raccoon walking
on the roof trying to get in. I made-up a quick lie to calm
her down. After that I went around the
house, shutting the windows and locking everything up.
As we huddled in the blankets and talked about what was
happening, we both heard this distorted scream from the trees.
It sounded like a man or a woman screaming but twisted in some
way. It lasted for about 10 seconds
before going quiet. After that we stayed frozen to
that spot till morning, not sleeping a wink.
We packed everything up and left as soon as we could and made it
back home safe. As dumb as I am, I'm probably
going to go back there with her, but this time I'll be armed in
case something decides to fight. My name is Chris and I've always
loved the great outdoors. Living in rural Virginia, the
Blue Ridge Mountains were my playground.
I knew them like the back of my hand, or at least I thought I
did. I'm 32 years old and not much
scares me. I've come face to face with
black bears, and I've navigated trails that would make a Billy
goat think twice. But this story is about the time
I encountered something that chilled me to the bone.
It was the first weekend of deer hunting season, my favorite time
of year. I was excited to try out a new
spot I had found in the Piney Grove Preserve.
The area was deep in the mountains, known for its thick
pine forests and rugged terrain. It was a Hunter's paradise and
just the kind of challenge I liked.
I had spent weeks preparing for this trip.
I set up trail cams and marked my route with GPS so I wouldn't
get lost. I felt ready and confident as I
loaded up my truck with all my gear for an overnight stay.
The drive to Piney Grove was peaceful.
The morning air was crisp and the sky was a clear blue, just
perfect for a day in the woods. When I arrived, I parked my
truck near the trailhead and double checked my equipment.
I had my tent, my hunting rifle, enough food and water, and of
course, my trusty GPS. Taking a deep breath of the
fresh mountain air, I started my hike.
The trail was challenging with steep climbs and rocky paths.
It wound through the thick Pines which filled the air with their
sharp scent. As I hiked, I listened to the
sounds of the forest, the chirping of birds, the rustle of
leaves, and the occasional snap of a twig under foot.
It was music to my ears. After about 5 miles, I reached
the spot where I planned to set up camp.
It was a small clearing surrounded by dense woods,
giving me a good view of the surrounding area.
I quickly set up my tent and arranged my gear inside.
Everything was going smoothly. With camp set up, I grabbed my
rifle and headed to the tree stand I had installed earlier
that week. It was positioned on the edge of
a small clearing overlooking a well used game trail.
Deer frequented this trail and I was hopeful for a good shot.
Climbing up into the tree stand, I settled in, making myself
comfortable for the long wait ahead.
As the sun began to set, the forest changed.
The light faded and shadows grew long and deep.
The noises of the daytime creatures quieted down, and the
night shift began. Owls hooted in the distance, and
I could hear the faint rustle of nocturnal animals as they
started their nightly routines. I felt at peace, alone with
nature. But as darkness enveloped the
woods, an uneasy feeling crept over me.
It was quiet, too quiet. Even the usual night sounds
seemed muted, as if the forest was holding its breath.
I shook off the feeling, telling myself it was just the nerves of
being in a new hunting spot. Little did I know my peaceful
night in the woods was about to turn into a nightmare that would
haunt me forever. Sitting in my tree stand as the
last light of day disappeared, I felt a chill that wasn't from
the cold. Everything was so still that
even the smallest noise seemed loud.
I was ready for a quiet night of waiting and watching, hoping a
big buck would wander by. But what happened next was
something I could never have prepared for.
It started with a sound, soft and distant.
At first I thought it might be the wind or an animal moving
through the brush. But then I heard it again,
clearer this time. A voice.
It sounded like someone calling out, faint and far away.
Hello, is anyone out there? It said.
My heart skipped a beat. It was definitely a human voice,
A woman's voice sounding scared and lost.
For a moment, I didn't move. People getting lost in these
woods wasn't unheard of, but something felt off.
The voice came again, closer now.
Please, can someone help me? I'm lost.
It sounded desperate, and my first instinct was to call out,
to tell her I was here, but something inside me hesitated.
Why would anyone be out here so late, so far from the trails?
I was about to shout back when the voice changed.
Chris, is that you? It was my mom's voice, calling
my name, clear as day. But that was impossible.
My mom lived three states away and hated the woods.
She'd never stepped foot in a place like this.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. How could this be happening?
Son, what are you doing up there?
Come on down. It's time to go home now.
It was my dad's voice, calm and familiar.
But my dad had passed away five years ago.
My head was spinning and my heart was pounding in my chest.
This couldn't be real. I was either dreaming or
something very strange was going on.
I clung to my rifle, trying to make sense of it all.
The voices sounded so real, so much like my parents, but I knew
they weren't. I needed to stay calm, to think.
But then the rustling started, something big moving through the
underbrush to my left. My breath caught in my throat.
Who's out there? This isn't funny.
I called out, trying to sound braver than I felt.
The rustling stopped and for a second everything was silent.
Then, right below my tree stand, a low chuckle broke the silence.
A laugh that sounded almost, but not quite human.
It was followed by a series of clicks and pops, like someone or
something was trying to form words but couldn't quite get it
right. Then, in a voice that was a
chilling mix of my mom's and dads, it spoke again.
We've been waiting for you, Chris.
It's time to join us. I peered down, my headlamp
cutting through the darkness at the base of my tree, I saw
something. A shape, pale and shifting, with
limbs too long and a face too smooth to be human.
Fear like I'd never felt before took hold of me.
My mind screamed to run, to get away from this nightmare.
Without thinking, I aimed my rifle and fired.
The shot echoed through the forest and a high pitched
inhuman shriek filled the air. The shape darted away,
disappearing into the night as silence fell again.
My heart raced and my hands shook.
What was that thing? What did it want with me?
I knew one thing for sure, I couldn't stay in that tree stand
any longer. I had to get out of there.
After I fired my rifle, everything went silent for a
moment. My heart was beating so fast it
felt like it would burst out of my chest.
The creature or whatever it was had vanished, but the woods felt
even more dangerous and eerie. I knew I couldn't just sit in my
tree stand all night. I had to get out of there to run
as fast as I could away from those voices in that terrifying
shape. Climbing down from the tree
stand, my legs felt shaky, but fear pushed me forward.
Once on the ground, I didn't look back.
I just ran. The forest around me was pitch
black, and the only light came from my headlamp, bouncing with
every step I took. Branches scratched at my face
and roots tried to trip me, but I kept moving, driven by pure
adrenaline. The voices didn't stop.
They followed me through the dark, calling my name.
Some sounded angry, some sounded pleading, and some even tried to
sound seductive, as if they could lure me into stopping.
It was like the whole forest was alive, trying to trick me into
coming back. But I knew better.
I knew I had to keep running. I ran without thinking about
direction or distance. My mind was focused on one thing
only, escaping. The voices seemed to be
everywhere, behind me, beside me, even right next to my ear.
It was terrifying. Every once in a while I'd hear
something that sounded just like my mom or my dad, and it would
make me want to stop, to listen, but I forced myself to ignore it
and keep running. I don't know how long I was
running through those woods. It felt like hours, but it
probably wasn't more than 30 minutes.
Finally, I saw something that looked like salvation, a gravel
Rd. It was the road where I parked
my truck. I'd never been so happy to see a
road in my life. I sprinted down that road, my
lungs burning and my legs aching, but I didn't slow down.
Not until I reached my truck. My hands were shaking so much
that I could barely get the key into the lock.
When I finally did, I threw myself inside, locked the doors,
and started the engine. I was safe, or at least safer
than I was in the woods. As I drove away, one final voice
reached me. It sounded like a little kid,
chillingly sweet. Don't leave us, Chris, we'll be
waiting for you to come back. I stepped on the gas, gravel
flying behind me as I raced down the Forest Rd.
I didn't stop until I hit the highway.
The drive home was a blur. I kept going over everything
that had happened, trying to make sense of it.
Could it have been a hallucination?
Maybe some kind of gas leak in the forest?
Or maybe I'd fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing.
But deep down I knew it was real.
The fear I felt, the voices that shape at the base of the tree,
they were all too real. When I got home, the first light
of dawn was just touching the horizon.
I was safe back in my own driveway, but I knew one thing
for sure. I was never going back to those
woods. Whatever was out there, it knew
me and it wanted me. And as much as I loved the
wilderness, some places are better left alone.
I've been holding on to this story for some time, and to be
honest, I'm still not sure about sharing it.
However, after listening to a podcast, it all came flooding
back and I feel like I need to get it off my chest.
Maybe that will help me make sense of what happened all those
years ago in Willow Creek. As a quick note, this town isn't
actually called Willow Creek, but for the sake of privacy and
anonymity, I'm going to call it that.
For context, I grew up in a small town in northern Michigan,
right on the edge of a vast stretch of wilderness.
Willow Creek wasn't much more than a collection of houses, a
general store, and a small elementary school back then.
Surrounded by dense forests and winding streams, it was the kind
of place where everyone knew everyone else, and kids had free
reign to explore the woods as long as we were home by dinner.
I was 10 years old when it all started in the summer of 1995.
My best friend back then was a girl named Sarah, who lived just
down the road from me. We spent most of our days
building forts in the woods, catching frogs in the Creek, and
making up elaborate fantasy worlds.
It was a scorching hot day in July when we decided to venture
further into the woods than we'd ever gone before.
We packed up some sandwiches and juice boxes, feeling like real
explorers as we set off down an overgrown trail which led away
from the Creek. We must have walked for a couple
of hours, the forest growing denser and darker.
I remember feeling a bit uneasy, like we'd crossed some invisible
boundary into a place we were not supposed to be.
I assumed it was the feeling a child gets when they travel too
far, but Sarah was fearless, always pushing us to go just a
little bit further. We were about to turn back when
we stumbled upon an old, large, gnarled Willow tree.
Its branches drooped so low they almost touched the ground.
There was something off about it, though I couldn't put my
finger on what exactly. The air felt heavier there, and
it was eerily quiet. No birds singing, no insects
buzzing. Sarah, always the brave one,
walked right up to the tree and ducked under its curtain of
leaves. I hesitated, a strange sense of
dread creeping over me. Come on, Alex, Sarah called from
inside the tree. It's so cool in here.
I took a deep breath and followed her in.
The space under the Willow was dim and cool, a welcome relief
from the summer heat. Sarah was right, it was pretty
magical in there, like we had discovered our own secret
hideout. We were about to start planning
all the adventures we'd have in our new Fort when we heard it, A
soft whispering voice coming from somewhere above us.
Come play. We froze, looking at each other
with wide eyes. The voice didn't sound like
anyone we knew, and it had a strange echoing quality to it.
Did you hear that? Sarah whispered.
I nodded, my heart pounding. It might have been the wind.
I suggested, not believing it myself.
The voice came once more, louder than the first time.
I'm lonely. Climb up here, keep me company.
Sarah, curious, started to look up into the branches.
Do you see anyone? She asked.
I scanned the tangle of branches and leaves above us, but I saw
nothing. We should go.
I said, tugging on Sarah's arm. This is creepy.
For once, Sarah didn't argue. We ducked back out from under
the Willow and started to speed walk back the way we'd come.
As we left the clearing, I swear I heard a faint disappointed
sigh rustling through the leaves behind us.
We didn't talk much on the way home.
Both of us were trying to process what had happened.
By the time we got back to our neighborhood, we'd halfway
convinced ourselves we'd imagined the whole thing.
But that was just the beginning. Over the next few weeks, we
heard more stories from other kids in town.
Jenny Parker swore she'd heard someone calling her name when
she was picking berries near the edge of the woods.
But when she looked around, no one was there.
The Thompson Twins said they saw a strange, shadowy figure
darting between trees when they were camping in the backyard.
Each story was a little different, but they all had one
thing in common, a voice that sounded almost, but not quite
human. Adults dismissed it as kids.
Overactive imaginations, of course, but we knew better.
We started to call the thing the Whisperer, this entity that
lurked in the woods and tried to lure kids away.
It became our local boogeyman, the story we'd whisper to each
other at sleepovers to see who would get scared first.
I didn't have another encounter with it that summer, but Sarah
did. She showed up at my house 1
evening, pale and shaking. She said she'd been walking home
from the library when she heard someone calling her from the
woods. It sounded like her mom at
first, telling her to come quick, that there had been an
accident. Sarah began to run towards the
voice when she realized her mom was working late that night and
could not possibly be in the woods.
It wasn't her voice anymore. When I stopped, Sarah told me,
her eyes wide with fear. It got all distorted and angry.
It said it would get me next time.
I wanted to believe Sarah was just trying to mess with me, but
I had never seen her so scared before.
We made a pact that day to never go back into the woods alone.
As summer turned to fall, the encounters seemed to die down.
We started to relax a little, thinking maybe whatever it was
had moved on. But then in early October,
everything changed. It was a crisp Saturday morning
and the news spread through town like wildfire.
Billy Hutchins, A7 year old who lived on the outskirts of Willow
Creek, had vanished from his backyard the night before.
Search parties were being organized and soon the whole
town was combing the woods, calling Billy's name.
I remember the pit in my stomach as I overheard the adults
talking. Billy had told his mom he was
going to play in his tree house for a while before dinner.
She called him in to eat about an hour later, but he didn't
respond. When she went to check on him,
the tree house was empty and there was no sign of Billy
anywhere. The search went on for days with
police dogs, helicopters and volunteers from neighboring
towns. It seemed like the whole world
had descended on our little corner of Michigan, but they
never found a trace of Billy. It was like he'd simply vanished
into thin air. In the wake of Billy's
disappearance, parents cracked down hard.
No more playing in the woods. No more staying out after dark.
The carefree days of our childhood seemed to end
overnight. But here's the thing that still
haunts me to this day. The night Billy disappeared, I
was sleeping over at Sarah's house.
We were up late watching movies in her living room when we both
heard it. A voice just outside the window,
one that we recognized. I'm going with him.
It's so fun. You guys should come too, said
Billy. We looked at each other in
horror. Billy was not the type to walk
alone at night, and we knew exactly who he was referring to.
The Whisperer. We huddled together on the couch
until morning, too terrified to even think about sleep.
We never told anyone what we heard that night.
Who would believe us? And more importantly, what could
anyone have done? That thing in the woods,
whatever it was, had won. It had finally taken a child.
The strange encounter stopped after that.
No more voices calling from the trees, no more shadowy figures
glimpsed at the edge of the forest.
We could only guess The Whisperer had been satisfied and
had moved on. Years passed, and life in Willow
Creek slowly returned to normal. Billy Hutchins became a
cautionary tale, his story told to remind kids not to wander off
alone. Most of the adults chalked it up
to a tragic accident or a wild animal attack.
Those of us who had encountered The Whisperer knew better, but
we rarely spoke of it, even amongst ourselves.
I left Willow Creek for college and never moved back, though I
do visit my parents from time to time.
Sarah stayed, taking over her family's hardware store.
We don't talk much anymore. Too many painful memories, I
guess. Different lives to live.
Sometimes when I'm lying awake at night, I still hear that
voice in my head, Billy's voice, telling me that we should come
too. I can't help but wonder, what if
we had told someone? Could we have saved Billy?
Could we have rallied the adults and torn Billy from that thing's
clutches? Or would we have been the ones
to disappear next? I don't have any answers, even
after all these years. If you're ever out in the woods
alone and you hear someone calling your name, someone who
sounds almost but not quite like someone you know, do not answer.
Don't follow, just run. Hello.
My family believes we are being stalked, haunted, haunted and
teased by one or more skinwalkers.
This has been going on for years, on and off.
We live on a farm and these entities have been making more
frequent appearances than ever lately.
My kids are scared as they've seen it several times, as have
my husband and I. We even believe it's been
indoors with us from time to time.
The glimpses I've seen at first appeared to be that of a naked
man moving with extreme speed, faster than I can keep an eye
on. It peeks around corners of the
house at my kids and makes human and animal cries at night.
It's terrifying. We have found doors unlocked and
left open at night, and when we investigate, we catch a glimpse
of it. Garage doors too.
Doors that no one ever opens. There's no good explanation for
it. Living on a farm, we are used to
the sounds of coyotes howling, barking, and different animals
of prey screaming when attacked. The screams we've been hearing
lately are not the same sounds of coyote attacks.
These are screams that sound human bloodcurdling cries.
I've never heard anything like before.
I don't know if there is something that can be done to
keep them at Bay. I believe many of these evil
entities come in and out of our dimension, but I would love to
keep them out if that's possible.
Here is one of the more terrifying encounters.
It was August 14th during a meteor shower that was ongoing
until the 24th. I was curious to see it, so I
went out late. At exactly 1, AMI stood in the
middle of the road in front of my house, staring up at the
clear night sky, watching some comets pass by.
Across the road in front of my house is a good five acres of
unclaimed desert land. I'm from Arizona, where Navajo
skinwalkers are said to originate.
As I was standing there, I began to hear odd noises, like a
branch cracking or crunching something.
This noise came from directly in front of me, about 100 yards
away. At the time, I didn't think much
of it. It's important to note that
after this whole experience, I did my research and everything
seemed to add up to my story. There are reasons I believe it
was a skinwalker. It was far away, but I've read
accounts where people mentioned that the farther away the sounds
of a skinwalker might seem, the closer it actually is.
Not even 10 seconds later, I heard a very strange noise
coming from the left side of the front of my house.
This was close, about 50 feet away.
Having lived in Arizona for six years, these noises were
unfamiliar and different. I was always out at night, and I
could tell when it was just a desert rabbit or a couple of
coyotes. As these strange noises
occurred, the worst feeling I've ever felt in my 17 years came
over me. It was very weird and made me
feel very uneasy. It was that gut feeling like I
knew something bad was going to happen soon or was already
happening. A sense of impending doom.
Then as fast as the noises started, they stopped.
But this was a short pause. I heard faint talking coming
from the same spot where the noises had happened not long
after. It sounded like a little girl.
I couldn't make out a single word as it was quiet, faint and
practically gibberish, but it was definitely feminine.
Then it stopped again, and immediately after, clear as day
and twice as loud as the talking before I heard my name.
Noah. In that very moment, I don't
think I've ever been more truly terrified.
I was super freaked out. I began to walk towards my front
door. I read that skinwalkers tend to
mimic the voices of people and sound very human like to try to
lure people in. I also read that in most cases
with kids, skinwalkers will purposefully lurk around or near
houses. And everything unfolded just
outside of mine. My heart was racing at that
moment, and that gut feeling I got was still there, just as
bad, if not worse. I was at the bottom of my
driveway now, already turned around, heading for the front
door of my home. As bad and freaky as things
already were, you'd figure things couldn't get any worse.
That was until on the right side of me, I heard the gravel of our
front yard crunching. It was deep and long.
Two crunches. It was coming towards me now, no
more than 20 feet away. Unfortunately, I hadn't seen
anything with my own eyes. It was too dark, and the steps
had occurred on the opposite side of my sister's car to the
right of me, so I didn't have a clear line of sight as I walked
up the driveway. At this moment, I was scared out
of my literal mind. When I heard the crunch of the
gravel. I was on the verge of calling
out or even yelling at whatever thing was coming my way, but I
didn't. My gut instincts told me that
initiating something like that would most likely make things
far worse. I tried my best to keep my
composure. The entire inside of me was
collectively screaming. As a whole, I was at the top of
the driveway. Now my driveway is slanted, I
was no more than maybe 5 feet from the door when on both sides
of me these sounds or steps picked up faster, coming towards
me. Fortunately for me, I didn't
acknowledge the things that happened at the time, or at
least I tried my best to ignore it for my own safety, and I
didn't initiate anything with whatever was truly out there.
I made it to the door and quickly locked it up behind me,
but things just got freakier from there.
Whatever had just happened had scared me out of my mind.
You know how when you have a bad feeling it tends to go away
after the so-called bad thing happens?
Well, that feeling hadn't gone away and I was still on high
alert. I put the cover over our large
dog door, locked the back door, the garage door, and made sure
all the windows were locked. That bad feeling almost never
went away that entire night and I was still freaked out after
what happened. Everyone was asleep, well,
except maybe for my sister. I trusted that she was still
awake. I went to her room and when I
knocked I woke her up. She said groggily that I could
come in. So I came in quietly and sat
down. She went back to sleep and I
prayed nothing bad would happen again.
Of course my sister is the only one in the house who keeps her
blind up at night, God knows why.
And of course, the screen of her window had fallen off and she
never bothered to put it back on, so it was just glass.
From there I could see the entirety of the backyard, and if
there was anything in my backyard, it could see me now
too. I sat in her room for a good
while. I want to say maybe 15 minutes
had passed when abruptly, out of nowhere, I heard faint
whistling. Very faint.
However close it was, it didn't matter because it was coming
straight from my backyard. It got closer.
That whistling began to sound like a flute.
I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.
Another quick note, after reading some other person's
story, it is believed that I could have heard the flute of a
Navajo or Navajo witch. Now in the comfort of my own
home came this strange music. Once I identified it sounded
like flute music, it went away. I quickly got up, told my sister
goodnight and didn't say a word after that, leaving her room
still creeped out. With everyone else asleep and
being alone, I turned on a lot of lights and sat at the bar in
the kitchen. At one point I even thought to
wake my dad up just so I could be in the comfort of another
person. I was only 17.
I ended up not doing it, thinking my dad would be teed
off. As I sat there once again came
the faint crunching of gravel rocks from my backyard.
Whatever was there, I could hear it.
It was no more than five feet away from the back door.
Then came a small, short knock on the glass.
I froze and waited. Every minute came one more
singular knock. This just scared me even more.
Skinwalker or not, something was on the other side of that door
and I wasn't going to stick around to find out.
Luckily for me, my back door has a cover, which is also just
glass. I flicked off the lights and
walked towards my bedroom. I didn't bother looking at the
back door. I stayed in my room for the rest
of the night. I never left.
I was up for a good three hours after everything occurred.
Even then, I heard strange noises from outside my window
too. I remained horrified until
somehow, in some way, I fell asleep.
The next morning everything seemed fine.
I truly don't know what happened that night, but I'm glad I went
with my gut. I don't think I'd be here if I
hadn't. I am 28 years old and live in
Columbus, OH. I work in IT and up until last
year I lived in a pretty standard apartment complex on
the outskirts of the city. It's one of those places with a
bunch of three story buildings clustered around a central
parking lot. Nothing fancy, but decent enough
for a single guy on a budget. This all went down right before
Halloween. The complex had started to put
up some cheap decorations. I had been living there for
about two years by then, and nothing out of the ordinary had
ever happened. The scariest thing I'd
encountered was the occasional raccoon digging through the
dumpsters. It was a Thursday night and I
was getting home late from work. We'd had a major system crash
and I'd spent hours trying to get everything back online.
By the time I pulled into my complex, it was almost midnight.
To my annoyance, the parking lot was unusually full.
There must have been some sort of event going on that I had
forgotten about. All the spots near my building
were taken. I ended up having to park clear
on the other side of the complex, a good five minute walk
from my own apartment. Not a big deal I guess, just
inconvenient. I grabbed my laptop bag and
started trudging across the parking lot.
The yellow streetlights cast long shadows across the asphalt.
I was about halfway to my building when I heard it.
A voice. It was soft, but very apparent.
It came from the shadows between two parked cars.
Excuse me, can you help me? I'm lost.
I stopped, peering into the darkness.
The voice sounded like it belonged to an older woman.
My first thought was that one of the residents grandparents had
gotten turned around in the complex.
Hello. I called out.
Where are you? There was a shuffling sound,
then I saw a figure step out from between the cars.
In the dim light, I could make out the shape of a small,
hunched woman with wispy white hair.
She was wearing what looked like a nightgown or robe.
Oh, thank goodness. The woman said, her voice
quivering. I was taking out my trash and I
got all turned around. These buildings all look the
same in the dark. Could you point me to building?
CI felt a pang of sympathy. Building C was clear on the
other side of the complex, and this poor old lady had wandered
pretty far. Of course.
I said, taking a step closer. It's actually back the way I
came. I can walk you there if you
like. As I moved towards her,
something made me hesitate. Maybe it was the way she stood,
completely motionless, like some sort of cardboard cut out, or
the fact I couldn't quite make out her face in the shadows.
I felt a chill run down my body then, and I found myself taking
a step backward. That's very kind, the woman
said, but her voice had changed. It was deeper now, and there was
a reverb to it in a weird way that made my skin crawl.
Why don't you come a little closer?
I'm having trouble seeing you. Despite every instinct in my
body screaming at me to run, I stood there, petrified.
I watched the figure, which now seemed to shift.
It was subtle at first, like a ripple passing through water.
Then, in the span of a single heartbeat, it grew.
The hunched form straightened and expanded, the wispy hair
disappeared, and the figure shot up to well over six feet tall.
What stood before me now was a towering, vaguely humanoid
shape. In the dim light, I could see
that it's skin, if you could call it that, was a patchwork of
textures. In some places it looked like
normal human skin, in others it was more like rough tree bark or
sleek animal fur. Its face was the worst part, a
blank, featureless expanse with just the suggestion of eyes and
mouth, like an unfinished sculpture.
I stumbled backward, my heart pounding so hard I thought it
might burst from my chest. The thing took a step towards
me, and when it spoke again, it was with a chorus of voices.
Men, women, children, all layered over each other like a
hell bound choir. It made my head spin.
Don't go, I just want to talk. I just want to heal, it said,
reaching out with a hand that seemed to be constantly shifting
and reforming. I turned and ran, sprinting
across the parking lot toward the nearest building.
I heard it behind me, a sound like bare feet slapping against
asphalt, but much too fast, too rhythmic to be human.
I reached the building and yanked open the door, not even
caring that it wasn't my own. I raced up the stairs to the
second floor and pressed myself against the wall, trying to
quiet and steady my breathing. For a long moment, there was
silence. Then, from right outside the
building, I heard a voice. My voice.
Hello, is anyone there? I think I'm lost.
My blood ran cold. It was a perfect imitation of my
voice, down to the slight nasal tone I get when I'm nervous.
Can someone please help, I don't know where I am.
I stayed there, pressed against the wall for God knows how long.
The voice. My voice called out a few more
times before eventually falling silent.
Soon, I worked up the courage to peer out the window.
The parking lot was empty, no sign of that strange figure, or
anyone else for that matter. I waited there until the sun
began to come up before making a mad dash for my apartment.
I packed a bag, called in sick to work, and went to stay with a
friend for a few days. When I came back, everything
seemed normal. No one in the complex mentioned
anything strange, and I tried to convince myself it was all some
kind of stress related thing, but I couldn't shake the memory
of that voice, those voices, or the sight of that shifting,
impossible form. I broke my lease two months
later and moved to a new place closer to downtown.
I tell myself it's for the shorter commute, but we all know
the real reason. I still live in Columbus.
I avoid that part of town now. Sometimes when I'm driving home
late at night and see someone walking alone in a parking lot,
I feel a surge of irrational panic.
And every now and then when I'm drifting off to sleep, I can
remember that voice and I pray that I don't hear it again.
Calling. Hello, is anyone there?
I think I'm lost. Ever since I can remember,
fishing with Dad was our thing, our special way to bond and to
escape everything else. It was on my 5th birthday during
one of our fishing trips that I had a dream I'll never forget.
It was a perfect sunny day, the kind that paints everything
gold. Dad and I were on our little
boat in the middle of the calm Green Lake.
I loved watching the way the sunlight played on the ripples,
turning them into sparkling gems.
Dad was rowing slowly, taking in the nature around us.
He wore his black cap, faded to a dusty orange by the sun, and
those mirrored sunglasses that seemed like part of the official
Dad uniform. Everything felt peaceful, just
right. But dreams have a way of
turning, don't they? Without warning, Dad stopped
rowing. The oars slipped from his hands
and sank into the lake with barely a splash.
Then he did something that even now, years later, sends chills
down my spine. He straightened up, placed his
hands on his knees, and turned to me with a smile.
But it wasn't his usual warm smile.
It was broad and eerily forced, as if someone had told him to
smile but forgotten to mention he could stop.
Despite the sunglasses, I could tell his eyes weren't smiling.
They looked wrong somehow, like they were empty of all the
dadness I knew. I asked him what was wrong, my
voice shaky, but he just kept smiling, that creepy smile
saying nothing. The rest of the dream is a blur.
I remember him just staring at me with that smile while I
cried, feeling an eternity pass between us.
I woke up in tears, the images of the dream still vivid and
haunting. Mom was already by my side,
trying to comfort me. She whispered that it was just a
nightmare, but her voice couldn't chase away the shadows
in my mind. I couldn't go back to sleep
after that. The thought of closing my eyes
and seeing that smile again was too much.
So I stayed up watching cartoons on TV, their brightness a stark
contrast to the darkness I felt inside.
At the time, I didn't understand what had happened.
It was just a bad dream, right? But somehow, it felt like more
than that. It was as if something had
reached out from whatever place dreams are woven from, leaving a
mark on me. Little did I know that was my
first encounter with something I'd later come to call the
Mimic. A shadow that knew no
boundaries, not even those between dreams and waking life.
Looking back, I wish I could tell that little boy that
everything would be all right, that it was indeed just a
nightmare. But that would be a lie.
That day on the lake was just the beginning, and there was so
much more to come, so much more that I still struggle to
understand. Life went on after that
disturbing dream, but a part of me remained wary, always on
edge. It was a few summers later and I
was about 10. I loved spending my mornings
bouncing on the trampoline in our backyard.
It was my little bubble of happiness where I could jump and
flip away my worries. That particular morning was
bright and clear, promising a day full of play.
I woke up early, pulled on my shorts and AT shirt, and rushed
outside to start jumping before breakfast.
The rhythm of bouncing felt freeing, almost like I was
flying. As I was doing tricks, catching
air and feeling the morning breeze, I noticed Mr. Thompson,
our neighbor, walking towards our fence.
He was a retired policeman and had always been friendly, waving
and chatting whenever we saw him.
He called out a cheerful good morning and commented on how
early I was awake. He mentioned something about the
apple trees in his yard and how he expected a good harvest that
year. I just nodded and smiled, not
really paying much attention. I kept jumping, lost in my
little world. After a while, I figured Mr.
Thompson had left. As the conversation died down
and I heard no more from him, I decided to take a break and grab
the edge of the trampoline to steady myself.
As I turned to hop off, I froze. There he was, standing just
behind the trampoline safety net, his face unnervingly close
to mine. His eyes were wide open,
unnaturally so, and his smile was broad and forced, the same
kind of smile from my dream. It wasn't the kind Mr. Thompson
ever wore. His eyes, usually kind and
gentle, were now bright red, as if he hadn't blinked in ages.
He stared straight at me, without blinking, without
speaking. Just that terrifying smile.
Panic gripped me, my heart raced and for a moment I couldn't
move. I couldn't understand what was
happening. Was this real?
Was it another dream? The sight of him so changed, so
creepy, it struck a chord of fear deep within me.
Suddenly my legs found their strength and I jumped off the
trampoline and sprinted towards the house, slamming the door
behind me. I was panting and shaking as I
told Mom what had happened. She looked at me with wide,
worried eyes and immediately suggested we go over to Mr.
Thompson's house to ask if he was all right or if something
was wrong. I was too scared to face him
again, so she went alone. She returned quicker than I
expected, her expression puzzled and concerned.
Mr. Thompson had seemed genuinely confused by her
questions. He admitted he had come by to
say hello, but insisted he had left right after our brief chat
about the apples. He denied ever standing behind
the trampoline or staring at me like that.
I didn't know what to believe. Mom seemed to take his word for
it, but I couldn't shake the image of his twisted smile and
those haunting, unblinking eyes. For weeks after I kept a
vigilant watch on his house from my bedroom window, half
expecting to see that creepy smile again.
But everything seemed normal, at least on the surface.
I tried to convince myself it was just a weird moment, a trick
of light or my imagination running wild, but deep down I
knew it wasn't. It couldn't be.
Something was very wrong. I was 14 now and my days were
filled with the usual teenage stuff, school homework and
weekends at my grandparents house.
They lived close to my school, so I'd often ride my bike there
on Fridays to hang out, do my homework, and enjoy my grandma's
strong coffee. One typical Friday, I left
school feeling particularly drained from a tough math test.
I wheeled my bike up the driveway, dropped it by the
porch, and let myself in through the unlocked door.
Our family never worried about locking up during the day.
Hey grandma, I'm here. I called out as I entered.
There was no response, which was unusual because Grandma was
always in the kitchen around this time, usually humming or
talking to herself as she cooked or cleaned.
I shrugged it off and headed straight for the kitchen to grab
a snack. The house was strangely quiet.
No humming, no clinking of dishes, just silence.
I dropped my backpack and books on the kitchen table and noticed
Grandma standing at the sink, her back to me.
Math was brutal today. I started, hoping to strike up a
conversation. No reply.
I frowned, waiting for some sign she had heard me.
Grandma. Still nothing.
The silence stretched on, becoming more unnerving by the
second. She hadn't even moved since I'd
walked in. Something felt off.
I tried to see her face in the reflection of the shiny teapot
on the counter, but I couldn't make it out.
Clearly curiosity mixed with a rising fear, I slowly approached
her. Grandma, are you OK?
No response. I reached out to tap her
shoulder, but before I could touch her, she turned around
abruptly. The sight that greeted me froze
me in place. It was Grandma, but not the
grandma I knew. Her eyes were wide open,
bloodshot, and her mouth. It was stretched into a
grotesque, forced smile, much wider and more terrifying than
anything I'd seen before. Her skin seemed almost purple,
and her expression was one of pain and horror.
I stumbled backward, my heart pounding so hard I thought it
might burst. Grandma.
I whispered, but the figure just stood there, smiling that
horrible smile. I couldn't take it.
I turned and ran out of the house, leaving everything
behind, even my bike. I sprinted all the way home, my
mind racing with fear and confusion.
As soon as I burst through the door, Mom saw my face and
immediately knew something was wrong.
She called Grandma, who answered sleepily.
She said she'd been napping in her room and hadn't seen me at
all that day. That phone call confirmed it
wasn't just my imagination. Something was following me,
something that could take the shape of people I loved.
From that day on, everything changed.
I stopped going out much, my anxiety skyrocketing every time
I had to interact with anyone. School became unbearable, and
eventually I just stopped going. People thought I was losing it,
that the stress had gotten to me.
Maybe they were right, but they didn't see what I saw.
They didn't feel the terror of seeing your loved ones morph
into something monstrous. I withdrew into myself, my world
growing smaller and darker by the day, until it was just me,
alone with my fears, wondering when the mimic would show itself
again. And as much as I wished I was
wrong, I knew deep down that it was far from over.