Growing up in Arizona, myths and legends are a part of life.
Native traditions, Mystic places, vortexes, UFO
abductions, and dozens of other stories of the unknown that I
always found fascinating. I grew up spending a lot of time
wandering around the desert and the mountains, hunting, camping,
etcetera, so I felt very at home in the wilderness.
One late spring day, on one of my many hiking adventures, I
wandered off the trail and after several hours came upon a small
group of old mud Adobe houses. A few people heard me coming and
came out of the houses to investigate, and after
apparently making the collective decision that I was not a
threat, one of the elders, dressed in old style traditional
Native clothing and a headdress came over to greet me.
The man spoke slowly and told me that I had wandered onto a
Navajo reservation and asked me if I was lost or if I needed
help. When I told him no, I was lost
but intentionally, he chuckled and invited me in to eat with
his family. The next several hours were one
of the great experiences of my life.
The whole thing was like being thrown back in time.
While we ate and talked, others from the surrounding houses
began coming over to join us and I got the feeling they didn't
get many outside visitors. We shared stories for hours
about life, family, their history in the area and time
spent in the wild. And the longer we talked, the
more they opened up and the more interesting the elders stories
got. Throughout the time there was
one man who never spoke. He just sat out of the circle
listening and watching me. At one point I told them I did
what I called my walkabouts every year around September,
where I would go out by myself into the wilderness for three to
four weeks at a time, and this got the attention of the one
silent old man. When I finished, he came over to
the circle around the fire, sat directly on the ground in front
of me, and asked me to join him on the ground.
He told me that years ago he used to do the same thing and
went on to tell me about the Canyon he went to.
He described it as a dangerous but magic place and that I would
see the world differently if I came back, if it must be for
dramatic effect. When he finished, he invited me
over to his home. The house was small and through
an open door in the backroom I could see it was filled with
various animal pelts, coyotes and wolves.
He walked over and closed that door, then picked up and handed
me an old map and some written directions that seemed like he
had been holding on to them for a long time, and just walked
away into that backroom and closed the door behind him.
It was late, and one of the families had invited me to stay
the night, which I gladly did. The next morning, as I prepared
to leave, one of the old women came over to me with something
in her hands, handed me a Talisman and simply said dip
your bullets in the white ash at the hottest part of the fire.
Then just walked away. September came and as I packed
for my walkabout I saw the Talisman in a drawer and
something felt right about taking it with me.
After a beautiful drive, I was very happy to find the Forest
Service Rd. marked on the old map.
The entrance to the area was remote and overgrown and tough
to get to, even in my Jeep. It took me much longer to get to
than expected so I decided to make camp and start the hike in
the morning. After a few hours on a trail
that looked like it had been forgotten, I came to a stream
and the entrance to the Secret Valley.
It was a narrow crack in the tall cliffs with about four feet
of water running gently through, but too narrow for a kayak or
canoe. I hoisted my gear over my head
and began to wade sideways through the chest deep water.
The crack in the Cliff seemed to go on forever, but after almost
two hours I came to the place where it opened up into a small
lake in an incredible valley surrounded by tall rock faces.
This may have been the most remote place I have ever been,
in the sense that there was no sign that people had ever been
there. No trash, no bullet casings.
Not even the evidence of campfires.
My first night there was the quietest night I have ever spent
in the wild. No birds, no frogs, not even
crickets. But I didn't feel like I was
alone there in the morning. After breakfast, I headed out on
my first exploratory hike to explore my new home for the next
couple of weeks. After being stalked by a
Mountain Lion on a hike about 10 years ago, I make a point of now
bringing a pistol with me when I'm out wilderness hiking.
After some looking around, I found a narrow path that
appeared to be a game trail that led up the side of one of the
cliffs and towards what looked like caves from the Canyon
floor. I made my way up to them and
came upon an entrance that was much larger than it appeared
from below. I made some noise to alert any
possible animals. I was there and made my way.
Inside The Cave was an expansive single chamber that went back a
couple of 100 feet. As I walked, I inspected as much
as I could see with my light, but there were no tracks of any
kind in the dirt besides mine, so I decided I was alone in
there and pushed on toward the rear of The Cave.
As I came around the last bend in The Cave and approached the
end, my headlamp panned across a large pile of bones.
Some animal. Some human and a very old
looking small candle sitting on a natural stone shelf.
This is the first thing that has scared me for as long as I can
remember but focusing on my wits, I remembered that there
were no other tracks in The Cave and figured it was all from a
long time ago. I was still a little uneasy as I
exited The Cave and was ready to get back to camp as I came out
into the light. About 75 feet away, there was
the largest wolf I have ever seen that looked like it was
coming down from standing on its hind legs.
It dropped down to all fours on a rock and just began staring at
me. Not growling or baring its
teeth, just staring. I pulled my 45 and fired two
shots to the side of it to scare it away, but it didn't even
flinch. Not only have I never seen a
wolf in this part of Northern Arizona, but I have never seen a
wild animal that did not at least flinch at the sound of a
gunshot. We both stood there staring at
each other for a moment. I turned and set my backpack
down to grab my binoculars and get a little closer look, but
when I turned back, the wolf was gone.
I made my way cautiously down the path back towards camp.
I have encountered wolves before, and usually it's not the
one wolf you can see that should worry you.
It's the ones you can't see. So I was extra cautious for the
return trip. Back at camp, I made sure my gun
was fully loaded and got my recurve bow strung just in case
the wolves came back. I have seen plenty of predatory
animals on my adventures. It's a part of being in the
wilderness, so I wasn't too worried, just prepared myself
the best I could and went over to the lake to go fishing.
Within about 20 minutes I caught two of the biggest brown trout
I've ever caught. So I decided to stop fishing for
the day and take a swim. Back at camp I made a fire,
cleaned my trout, and made dinner while the sun went down.
As soon as the sun went down, all of the life in the Canyon
seemed to go silent again. As I put out my fire and
prepared for bed, I noticed there was a small flicker of
light coming from the area where The Cave I had explored earlier
up the cliffside, which didn't make sense.
It was a moonless night and stars don't reflect that way.
It couldn't have been the candle I had seen.
It was too old and would not have burned so bright.
I decided to keep my gun close and try to get some sleep.
I would investigate The Cave again the next day when I woke
at sunrise, there was a haze along the ground throughout the
whole Canyon floor, but as the sun rose it disappeared quickly
and the area came back to life. I made my breakfast, gathered my
gun and bow, and headed back up towards The Cave.
When I reached the entrance, I saw there were still no tracks
besides mine around the entrance and decided to push up the hill
further. Just a little further up I came
upon the entrance to another cave, much smaller than the
first one. There was a small flat landing
with a large, heavily twisted juniper tree that, to my
absolute surprise, had many small objects hanging from thin
old looking ropes tied to the branches.
There were bones, but there were also old things definitely made
by humans and looked like they were old Native American
artifacts. Thinking I might have found the
spot where the old man I met on the reservation had stayed when
he was there decades ago, I went into The Cave.
This cave was much different from the first one.
Just a few feet in, I noticed the walls were covered in what
looked like ceremonial cave paintings.
As I pushed further back, The Cave got dramatically colder,
much colder than it should have been, and the walls were
completely covered with the paintings the entire way.
When I reached the back of The Cave, I was not prepared for
what I saw. There was what looked like an
old altar made of wood and bones.
As I looked around, I saw that a little before the back of The
Cave there was another shaft in the ceiling that went up, and on
a ledge about 25 feet up sat the small figure of what appeared to
be a woman. She was small and pale, with her
face painted white and wearing something like a crown made of
woven branches, with two small antlers at the front.
I stopped and stared for a few minutes, and the figure did not
move, so I assumed that it was mummified remains from a long
time ago. Not wanting to disturb a burial
site, I turned to walk back out of The Cave, but I began to
walk. I heard what sounded like a
faint voice in an unknown ancient language.
I instinctively looked back up towards the figure, but it was
gone. I was immediately terrified and
ran from The Cave as fast as I could get out, but my headlamp
flickered and died. I made my way out, feeling along
the wall to find my way, and the whole way I felt like there was
something right behind me. When I saw the first light from
The Cave entrance, I began to Sprint toward it.
Just before I made it out. I looked back and there was
nothing, so I slowed down, but I could still hear the faint
voice, and the volume never changed.
When I got outside, all the bones and artifacts hanging from
the tree were gone. I ran down the path as fast as I
could, headed back to my campsite by the lake.
Just as I reached the floor of the Canyon, I noticed the large
wolf at the tree line to my left, but this time it stayed
standing upright on its hind legs.
I stopped running, hoping not to initiate its predatory response
to chase me, and again it just stood there staring at me.
I reached my campsite safely and immediately began packing up.
It was too late in the day to make it out before dark, and I
did not want to make the hike out at night with all that was
going on. I moved my tent so it would back
up to the Canyon wall by the crack in the cliffside so I
didn't have to worry about anything sneaking up behind me.
I built my fire much larger and knew I wasn't going to get any
sleep that night. Just as the sun was going down,
I began to hear noises coming from the trees and I felt like I
was being haunted. Finally, in the last light of
day, I saw the wolf slowly walking around by where the path
LED out of the trees and it began to slowly walk towards me.
This time I drew my gun and fired towards the creature,
intending to hit it, and while I saw a couple hit the dirt around
it, several bullets hit it. Several rounds from a 45 will at
least slow down anything I've ever encountered, but this giant
wolf kept walking towards me like nothing had happened.
I continued to fire at it until the inevitable click of an empty
magazine. I reached down and fumble around
in my backpack looking for my other magazines to reload, and
as I lifted it, the Talisman the old woman gave me fell out onto
the ground. I picked it up and put it around
my neck and immediately remembered what she had told me.
Dip your bullets in the white ash.
I looked around but didn't see my backup magazines, so I
grabbed my bow, pulled an arrow that was tipped with a hunting
broadhead and dipped it into the white ashes, drew and fired.
I hit the creature just in front of its right hip and it let out
a noise somewhere between a growl and a person screaming
that made my blood curdle. I can hear that noise in my head
to this day. It immediately turned and ran
back to the trees, and in the flicker of the firelight I saw
the small woman with the antler crown standing there waiting for
it. They both retreated into the
trees, and for the rest of the night I could hear the same
faint voice I had heard in The Cave.
I spent the night outside of my tent, as awake as I had ever
been, but no longer afraid, and at dawn I finished packing up so
I could get out of that Canyon. The next spring I went back to
the small group of houses on the Navajo reservation I had found
the year before. I was wearing the Talisman as a
necklace and the first person to greet me was the woman who had
given it to me, and she ran up to give me a big hug.
You heard me, was all she said. I asked the group about the man
who had given me the map, as I was almost desperate to talk to
him about the experience I had so I could compare it to his
own. They told me that he had
disappeared shortly after I had visited them the first time and
had not been back. Strangely, when I tried to tell
them what had happened to me, no one would let me tell the story,
and the oldest man there who sat in the corner kept mumbling the
words Yenal Lushi. We all once again sat and shared
other stories of life and a meal before I left.
The next morning I found the old woman who had given me the
Talisman and offered it back to her.
She smiled and told me I had a good heart, then just close my
hands around it, telling me to keep it to watch over my next
walkabout. I went back to that small
village on the reservation several times over the next 10
years or so till I moved to Oregon, but they never let me
tell them what happened. I never went back to the Canyon,
and while curiosity sometimes gets the best of me, I don't
think I ever will. I've been lurking around on the
forums for a while now and I was about to give up until I found
this thread. I've read some similar
experiences to my own, so I figured you all would be able to
bring more clarity to all of this.
This all happened back during this past summer in the state of
Kentucky. To protect his identity and out
of respect for his family, I will refer to my friend as
James. I was spending time together
with James celebrating his completion of finals and my
recent promotion, drinking to our hearts content, and we had
the thirst of a Norse warrior at A Midsummer festival.
Starting with a nice bottle of Japanese whiskey that lasted all
but 30 minutes, we moved on to something a little classier, Jim
Beam. We sipped until day became night
and everything got fuzzy around the edges.
James took a long pull off the bottle before he turned to me
and asked if I wanted to go for a night walk to our favorite
stargazing spot. I obliged by taking the final
swig. This was just one of the things
James and I would do every weekend, and surprisingly our
parents were OK with it. Ever since we had science class
together as kids, We loved stars and outer space and the clearing
was like our own private research facility.
We had a large amount of forested area near where we
lived and the clearing was just a mile and 1/2 into the woods.
I would pack my budget telescope and we would get nice views of
the moon in its differing phases as well as nearby planets and
visible galaxies. After high school, James had
saved up a couple of $1000 to spend on one of those fancy
scopes that could be remote controlled and could take HD
videos. We would often talk about black
holes, the inevitable heat death of the universe, or if there
were other Earth like planets out there with life like ours.
We could even recite all the differing spectral types of
stars from memory. It was the foundation of our
friendship, though. James was much more serious and
even talked about going to college for a degree in
astronomy once he had finished his general education courses at
the local Community College. He was the only kid from class
who said he wanted to be an astronaut and was serious about
it. I was content looking at the
stars through my telescope from my backyard, beer in hand, and
not being in debt. It was a bad idea, but we did
not care, and off into the night we went.
Along the way. There was this drainage ditch we
would pass by, alluring today as it was back then, for no good
reason other than it was creepy being as inebriated as we were.
We took the bait and headed down.
Being extra careful to scale down the steep incline of the
ditch walls, we made it inside. It was your standard drainage
ditch, a large concrete canal stretching out about 10 miles in
both directions, dividing the forested land in two.
There was an overpass that ran across a small portion of the
ditch like a bridge, connecting the two pieces of land so that
people could walk across. Along the graffiti riddled walls
of the canals were drainage holes to help disperse the water
should the levels rise high enough.
One of these was a drainage tube about two meters wide and 50
meters long, what we dubbed the butt.
The other end of the Butt LED into the forest on the other
side. As kids, we would crawl through
it and act like it was a portal to another dimension, or it
would take us back in time. James could not resist.
Dude, look the butt. I'm going in, man.
He exclaimed. I can't believe you actually
said that out loud. Be careful you're going to
scrape your knees or bonk your head, I warned.
Once he got further in, he stopped moving.
Any Xenomorphs in there? I asked.
Nah, You hear this frog, man? Indeed, I could hear the thing
from where I was standing. As I approached, I noticed the
croak sounded guttural, throaty and wet.
If you've ever seen the grudge, it sounded like the noise the
girl makes, but not as drawn out.
At that moment I just chalked it up to my imagination.
Alcohol, intoxication or a big frog, though my anxiety was
already setting in. But what was strange was that
there was a little water still running through the ditch from
last week's rain. And typically, where there was
water, there were frogs, though the croaks were coming from one
source. Come to think of it, I do not
recall any other noises. No bugs, no animals, no typical
forest sounds. Dead silence.
Except for the frog. What's wrong with Kermit?
He said. I don't know, man.
Just come out. I'm starting to lose my buzz.
With that. He scooted out backward, still a
bit tipsy. He fell on his way out, then
stood up to face me. We climbed out of the drainage
ditch and continued along the dirt path.
I could still hear the croaking, but it was faint.
The sounds of insects and small critters rustling in the foliage
eventually returned and filled the unnerving silence, the
croaking becoming a distant memory, and I settled down a
bit. It was a clear night.
The moon was clearly visible, and stars dotted the sky like
tinsel strewn about a black canvas.
The trees reached tall, towering above us, and a nice cool breeze
blew the refreshing smell of pine to our nostrils.
It was a few minutes before we arrived at the clearing that
James broke the silence. Hey, man, what's up?
Look, I am not sure how to even say this, but there's something
I've been meaning to tell you for a while now.
It's been weighing heavy on my heart, and I just need to get it
off my chest. Of course, you know, it's just
you and I out here. I'm here for you, man.
You can tell me anything. Thanks.
He sighed. It's just lately I've been
thinking I might. Whoa dude, do you see that?
Wide eyed, he pointed his finger ahead.
I followed and saw what he was seeing.
A young buck, A10 pointer, still with velvet around the antlers.
Wow, he's beautiful, I said. We had a staring contest for
about 5 minutes. Everything seemed normal about
the deer, but most of its body was cloaked by the shadows
casted by the trees overhead. What I could see was its head
and a portion of its neck. It could have been the glare
from the moon overhead, but the eyes looked glossed over like
thick cataracts or like it had been dead for a while.
It was also trembling, which could have been because of us.
The tips of the antlers. I can remember clearly too, the
way the moonlight gleamed off them like the surface was
glossy. I tried to take a step closer,
and then suddenly the buck sprinted off into the woods.
It looked like right before the buck ran off, the antlers
twitched like fingers clenching to form a fist, but I brushed
that off too, trying to stave my anxiety once more, and we
started walking again. I really should have turned back
at this point. After an additional 3 minutes we
arrived at the clearing. James and I began walking to the
middle where we lay down on our backs, staring up at the sky.
We were far enough from the city where light pollution wasn't
visible. We could see a portion of the
Milky Way Galaxy and the moon was in its waning, gibbous
phase. This almost would have been a
perfect night for the telescope. In hindsight, I am glad we
didn't bring it because it was heavy and might have weighed me
down. OK, I said you didn't finish
what you were going to say back there.
What's going on with you? Oh, yeah, right.
Well, I'm thinking about moving to.
Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a scream.
It sounded like a young girl, if I had to guess, around the age
of 10. Help.
Help me. Who's there?
I could not move my body. I couldn't even speak.
I felt bad that I wasn't jumping into action, but for reasons I
couldn't understand at the time, I was paralyzed.
A primal fear had awoken in me, and I could only manage to turn
my head slowly towards James. Our gaze locked.
It felt like hours had passed. I broke out in a cold sweat and
had trouble swallowing. My words kept catching in my
throat. But eventually I managed to form
words and spoke to James in a low whisper.
What should we do? Call the police?
They'd never get here in time. And how do we explain where we
are? Yes, officer, we are in some
woods. There's dirt and rocks.
She sounds hurt. We might need to help her
ourselves, he reasoned. James was the 1st to get up.
Once he did, he extended his hand out to me and hoisted me
up. The direction of the scream had
come from our right, a little way past the tree line.
We waited a while longer to see if the girl would call out
again. I think we should head over
there, call out to her. She might be lost or hurt, man,
James said. I don't know.
Something doesn't feel right. Don't you feel weird about this?
I asked. It's probably the booze, man.
Regardless of how this feels, we need to go over there.
We took a few careful steps towards the tree line, and
before we got within 3 feet of the first tree, we heard a noise
that has scarred me indefinitely for the rest of my life.
For context, when I was younger, me and my friends would love to
jump off the swing set at its peak because it gave us the
sensation of flying. One time I managed to get some
good height before I let go, but I botched the landing and all my
weight landed on my right shoulder.
It had become dislocated and I had to go to the hospital to
have in popped back into its place.
I am not sure if you all ever had something like that happened
to you, but the noise from the shoulder bone being reinserted
back into the socket is disgusting.
You'd never forget it. This noise was similar, but
incredibly loud and wet. I could hear the bones shifting
and adjusting even from this distance.
Muscles, tissues and sinew being torn with the sound of wet
fabric ripping. Then a rustling of leaves and
brush, followed by silence. Once again, frozen by fear.
We could only wait for what would happen next, A voice
called out to us. Voices, to be precise.
The girl's voice, but two other voices spoke with it at the same
time and with the same cadence. One was a significantly lower
pitch, and the other sounded like my own.
Stop that hurts. Wow, he's beautiful.
Hearing my own words and voice was enough.
I nearly wet myself in that moment.
I don't know much about trauma and how the human brain reacts,
but what happened next comes back to me only in fragments.
Thinking about it too hard always results in a panic
attack. I remember multiple gaunt limbs,
a misshapen head with horns, matted and patchy blonde hair,
and a tall and lanky body with saggy leathery skin and pustules
all over. I remember it running towards us
on all fours, body turned sideways.
Then came the gunshots. Running through the woods, I
remember hearing a deer bleat mixed with the sound of a death
rattle of a dying old man, and the rest is a blur.
But I remember waking up in my own bed.
I haven't seen James since that night.
Anytime I would reach out to him, there's no reply and his
phone goes straight to voicemail.
I want to know if that was real or if we were just drunk and
imagining things. I'm thankful he was carrying his
firearm that night because I'm not sure if we would have made
it back. But I don't understand why he
won't talk to me. I just feel crazy.
What was that thing? Has anyone else encountered
something similar in the area? I've heard of things called
skinwalkers from the forums on here.
Could that be what that was? It was capable of mimicry,
albeit not particularly good. I received a text message from
James today and it was one of the reasons I decided to share.
It's simply read You left me, so I took the last few days of last
week off per the suggestion of some individuals in the
comments, to make appointments with a shaman and a hypnotist.
My boss also gave me this week off because I was visibly tired
and my performance was suffering, so I am appreciative
of that. I haven't slept well since that
night and now since receiving the text message from James, I
keep having this reoccurring nightmare.
The dream takes place back in the clearing, My limbs are
locked in place and no matter how hard I think or try to move
them, they won't budget. On the other side of the
clearing is what looks to be a deer or some 4 legged animal.
However the head region is obscured and blurry so I am not
entirely sure what it is. There is an overwhelming sense
of doom and darkness that seems to linger even after the dream
has long ended. On Friday, I was able to meet
with the hypnotist. During the whole drive there I
was incredibly uneasy and in disbelief.
This whole situation felt like a horror movie.
However, reality set in once I pulled up to her shack.
I cannot believe I am doing this, I whispered to myself.
I parked my vehicle and then began to walk towards the
building Hut, cautiously scaling up the wooden steps and rapping
on the door a few times. The shaman opened almost
immediately and the sweet smell of incense assaulted my
nostrils. Hello.
You must be Mr. A. Yes, ma'am.
Thank you so much for meeting me.
Absolutely. It's my pleasure.
Come in. I followed her inside, where she
closed the large round door behind me.
The interior was not what I was expecting from the alternative
practitioner. I had imagined dirt walls, fur
rugs, potion bottles, animal bones, and a wicked green fire
roaring in a cauldron or something of the like.
Rather, this looked like your contemporary doctor's office,
albeit with a few ornate light fixtures, feathers and framed
insect carcasses on the wall and a shelf with some herb filled
glass bottles and CBD oils. We walked into her office where
she pulled a chair in front of her desk and then took a seat
behind it. Sat across from me was an older
woman, I'd guess late 60s, of apparent Native American deck
sent. She wore a couple of ornate
bracelets and necklaces, but for clothing choice she wore a
striped, light blue button up, and black dress pants.
I know we spoke briefly on the phone.
You had mentioned being troubled by the disappearance of your
friend. I first want to tell you how
sorry I am. Truly, she spoke.
I really appreciate that, I replied.
She smiled warmly. Now, typically, my customer
bases are looking for diet and nutritional advice, ancestral
relationship building, or emotional trauma.
I'd love to start my program with you if you are trying to
recover from this experience and move on in a healthy and natural
way. Grieving the lost is tough, and
I must let you know that this process will take some time.
I swallowed hard, confessing to another soul as to what I saw.
I knew I was going to sound crazy.
I didn't want to come off as a lunatic and be told to take some
herbs and forget about it. Beads of sweat began to form on
my forehead. My palms began to perspire.
I managed to choke out the first few words.
I am actually not here for any of those options.
I want to ask you about something, I muttered.
A look of genuine concern fell upon her face.
Of course. What would you like to ask me
about? She spoke well.
I was there the night when James went missing, but I don't think
he just got lost or hurt by some animal.
Something that night tried to bait he and I into walking into
a thicket of woods. It sounded like a little girl,
but when it finally revealed itself, it looked like something
out of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.
An ungodly hodgepodge of animal and human body parts.
She only stared, Her positive and happy demeanor shifted to
one of disappointed and irritated.
She folded her hands and cast her eyes down the Yi nal Lushi.
Do you understand the danger you bring here by acknowledging the
being? The Navajo do not share this
information with outsiders for good reason.
It is my professional opinion that you consider moving on from
this ordeal or leave. You only put your family and
yourself in danger by prodding further, she growled.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend, but I can't just leave
him out there. Is there something I can do?
A spell to cast to make it die and he come back?
Can't it die like everything else?
I asked. The shaman practically leaped up
from her chair and leaned across the table, bringing her face
closer to mine, wisps of wisdom mixed with her Onyx black hair
and the wrinkles of time wriggling on her forehead.
No shaman is alive today that can reverse the magic those
cretins have cast upon themselves.
Our best remedy is to forget. Seconds of silence had passed
between us before I blurted out. If he's alive, I am going after
him. Can you help me or not?
With that, she stormed off. For an older lady, she sure had
some speed. I sat twiddling my thumbs as I
heard her rummage through things in a separate room.
She returned with the fury of the gods and flung a brown
satchel at my chest. Ow, seriously, What?
The white ash. Now leave.
Do not come back. Do not say I did not warn you.
Your people are stubborn. This is the only way you will
learn. Leave, she yelled.
The woman pointed, trembling with rage at the rounded wooden
door. I grabbed the satchel and took
my leave, not wanting to irritate her any further, I
turned back once more as I stood on the balcony.
She stood there, scowling at me before she barked.
Do not look it in the eyes and promptly slammed the door with
the strength of an ox. I speed walk to my car and got
in key in ignition and then placed the brown satchel in the
passenger seat. After that ordeal I was tired
and incredibly thirsty. On my way home I stopped by the
liquor store for some alcohol, paying with cash and dropping
the change into the make A wish bucket.
At least a portion of my bad habit can go to a noble 'cause,
right? Once I got back to my apartment,
I kicked my shoes off and put the alcohol in the fridge except
for one. I shuffled over to the couch and
sat down, beer on my left, satchel on my right.
I sat the bag down in front of me on the coffee table and then
open the beer. I stared for a few minutes
before taking a big gulp and then pulled out my phone to get
on Google. The shaman said white ash before
she threw the bag at me. So I researched White Ash and
its uses for the next hour or so from what I could turn up, it
could be used to hurt and even kill a skinwalker.
Some have made white ash bullets, others have made a
paste and coated a blade with the substance.
I exhaled loudly, overwhelmed by everything.
Was I really going to try to fight this thing?
Should I just give up? I was already 5 beers in and
decided to go to bed. The weekend was another
opportunity to sulk and think so I wanted to get a jump start by
calling it an early night. The dream came again, only this
time the animal had covered a great distance between us.
It was close enough that now I could make out finer details for
a lack of words. It was disgusting and fetid.
It was in the shape of a deer, but had pink human skin, mottled
and diseased. The antlers were shaped like
large Bony fingers, nails torn, leaking blood and puss folded
over the face of the beast hovering above the ground in
front of me. It was shaking and convulsing
violently, limbs thrashing about.
The fingers opened, revealing a mass of glossy white eyes.
It opened an insect like maw, the lower jaw extending farther
than any normal animal could manage.
The jaw bones dislocated with a sickening pop, and the skin
surrounding them tore like paper.
It let out a hellacious bleat. The terror was indescribable.
I fought inside the prison of my mind for control of my limbs,
but they moved to no avail. The acrid stench of sulphur and
rot insulted my nostrils. The beast took a long flemmi
inhale and began to move towards me, twitching and writhing with
excitement. I screamed.
I woke to the sound of my own screams drenched in sweat.
The cat shot straight up from his bed to turn and look at me.
With a slow blink he hoisted up his leg, licked it, and promptly
went back to sleep. Sorry to disturb you buddy, I
apologized. I rolled over to check my phone
to see it was only 3:00 AM. There was no way I was going to
get back to sleep, so I made some coffee and started my
Saturday morning. I did a little more research on
white ash and decided to opt for the ash coated knife route.
I have no experience making munitions, so this was my only
option for defense. I made the mixture of water and
ash and put in a plastic bag. I had an old hunting knife
around, so I decided it would be the one I used the rest of the
day and Sunday was spent drinking and playing video
games, Not much else to note other than no nightmares.
Each night I got some decent sleep.
Those days. I woke up to the sound of my
alarm at 6:00 AM, though my appointment with the hypnotist
was at 10 AMI, spent the first two hours drinking an entire pot
of coffee. I then hopped in the shower, got
ready, and got in the car to go to the appointment.
I haven't tried recalling that night for a long time, so I was
a bit anxious to be reliving it all again.
I pulled into the lot and began walking towards the office.
I sat in the waiting room for about 30 minutes, nervously
bouncing my leg up and down. I was the only one in there
other than the receptionist. I began nervously chewing my
jaw, tasting iron in my mouth as the door to the waiting room
opened and a balding, slightly overweight man stepped in.
Mr. A. He looked around the empty room
jokingly until our eyes met. Ah, it must be you then.
He laughed. Looks like it.
I chuckled. I'll admit that the joke made me
a little less tense. He wasn't as scary as the shaman
lady. Well, if you wouldn't mind
following me to my office. We just need to get a little
more paperwork done and then we can begin.
I followed his lead. He led me into his office and
thankfully there were no scorpions, rattlesnakes, or
shrunken heads. The room was quite cozy.
There was a nice Gray leather sofa on one side, an oak desk,
and two blue leather chairs. A large ornate rug lay in the
middle of the room and I am not sure if he had sprayed air
freshener, but it smelled like lavender.
I took a seat on the sofa and he sat at the desk at the far side
of the office. Our records show that you
haven't visited with us before. Is this your first time with
hypnotic therapy? He asked.
Yes, it is, I replied. Great, it's super simple.
I'll dangle some swirly object in front of your eyes, say some
magic words, and you'll think you're a duck.
He laughed. Quack, I sneered.
Exactly, It's already working, but really, it's a little
different than that. Before we begin, I'd like to
know the reason you think hypnotic therapy is right for
you. I took a long pause, searching
for the words. I'm dealing with trauma from a
particular event and to move on with my life.
I feel that it would be healthy for me to embrace the entirety
of that moment instead of drowning it out with alcohol or
tasks to face my emotions. But anytime I try on my own
terms, I end up having a panic attack.
He stroked his chin, tapped his pen a few times, and then jotted
something down in his notebook. I see the road to recovering
from trauma is not one I would recommend traveling alone.
The good news is that I believe I can be of use to you today.
Now, if you wouldn't mind lying down on that sofa and just take
some time getting comfortable, I obliged as I rest my head
against the arm of the sofa. The doctor got up from his desk
and walked over to one of the chairs.
He began scooting it closer to me and then sat patiently.
Now keep your eyes closed and begin focusing on your breathing
as you do this. I want you to let go of anything
and everything in your mind troubles.
Stresses to do's that you left at the door when you walked in.
Focus on having an empty mind and take as much time as you
need. It took me a while, but
eventually I was able to clear my head.
I felt relaxed, calm, and even a bit sleepy when I began drifting
off into sleep. He spoke softly into the
silence. Now, in your mind, I want you to
envision where you were before the events of the ordeal, before
the memories become inaccessible.
Imagine that you are there now, both fully in mind and body.
Immediately the terror crept in. I began breathing faster, sweat
building on my brow in the theatre of my mind.
The horror show began to play out, just as it did that night.
I spoke aloud the events that took place, and in the order in
which they did. I got right to the point before
the creature came out of the clearing and stopped.
OK, now take a deep breath. Focus.
Dig deep. Recall to me the events as they
come to you. I took a deep breath, holding
for a few seconds. The memories began to
materialize. Amidst the mental fog, the
creature galloped out of the woods towards us.
We both took a step back. It began to swipe a claw at me
when I saw James raise his hands.
Taking aim with a small handgun. James fired five times, the
bullets hitting the beast in the neck and cheek area, thick,
oily, Crimson spurting. The creature spun around to face
him, guilt and regret crashing down upon my soul in a wave of
sorrow. I recalled running as soon as
the creature lost interest in me, right before I made it past
the trail leading into the clearing.
I looked back one last time to see James lying on the ground,
the beast towering above him. It stood on its hind legs and in
a moment it's rib cage splayed open in hungry gullet.
It began to come down on James as he fired three more shots and
trying to kick the monstrosity away.
I turned away and kept running and running, my legs numb and
lungs burning. I heard James scream then.
Hey hey, help. No.
Ah. I recalled the bleeding and
gurgling on the run home, fumbling my keys in the lock,
pushing the door open and slamming it shut behind me.
I locked the door, ran into the bathroom, locking that door as
well, and then climbing in the bathtub, where I shook and cried
until I couldn't cry anymore. Then I remember waking up in the
bed. I could feel the warmth of tears
streaking down my face, my body convulsing as I fought
unavoidable sobs. I opened my eyes to see the
doctor holding out a tissue. You don't think I am crazy, do
you? I spoke.
Not at all, son. You won't tell anyone about this
doctor. Patient confidentiality.
You don't have to worry. I wipe the tears from my face
and then began to sit up. I felt as though an enormous
weight had lifted from my soul in its place.
Enmity began to kindle for myself, but two for the beast.
I turned to face the Doctor Who was scribbling furiously on his
notepad to ask him what should I do?
I left my friend out there to die.
That thing needs to be stopped. I owe it to him.
It's my all my fault, I shouted in between sobs.
I can understand your frustration.
It's natural to feel a sort of obligation or responsibility to
the departed. What happened out there was a
freak thing. You acted on instinct.
You are not required to be a hero in those circumstances, he
spoke. Animals act on instinct as well.
I know that some male deer can be aggressive and territorial,
and Kentucky is home to a few species of black bear.
I know that the females can be very protective of their young.
It's very unfortunate that some people can end up in the wrong
place in time with these animals and I would advise not to travel
back to the area to search for him.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
My situation was being downplayed and I began to grow
irritated with the doctor. I took a sharp inhale and then
spoke. It wasn't a bear or a deer.
It was something that could make itself look like an animal.
So what? You suggest I just forget about
him? Do nothing?
No, not at all. I can begin a program with you
starting. I don't want to do a program.
I want my friend back or that thing dead.
I interrupted. I jumped up off the sofa and
began to walk towards the door. On the way out, I turned to look
back at the doctor, a look of empathy on his face.
Look, I appreciate what you've done for me and I'll pay for
today's session, but my mind is made-up.
Either this ends with me or it, and I'm OK with that.
With that, I left the office and began to plan my next visit to
our favorite spot once more. I've heard that hatred weakens
the heart. Ironic how it feels like it's
the only thing keeping mine pumping.
I hate that creature, hate it for taking his life, but I hate
myself even more. I should have told James no that
night. We shouldn't have been walking
around at night intoxicated in the 1st place.
I hate myself for running away, for doing nothing for so long.
I sat in my car, arms folded over the steering wheel, head
resting on top. A light rain began to tap on the
roof of my car. I didn't leave the parking lot
until about an hour had passed. Like the rain, I let all the
memories wash over me. Then I made my way back to the
apartment. I opened the door, dripping
water all over the carpet, but it was the least of my concerns.
It didn't keep the cat away though.
He jumped from his cat tower and made his way towards me, rubbing
up against my soaked pant legs. He always knew when I was upset.
I bent down to pet him on the neck, his eyes closing in a
moment of bliss. I had it set in my mind and soul
that I would go back there and end that thing or it end me.
I needed to prepare though. I didn't have any experience
killing ancient shape shifting beings, but I knew just going
out there with a knife was a brainless idea.
Odds are I was going to die either way, but I didn't want to
go down without giving a good fight.
I recalled the gift my parents had given me for my 16th
birthday. It was an older model, a
Browning 12 gauge shotgun from the 1960s originally owned by my
grandfather. It was given to my mother and
then passed on to me. In the past I had shot at
multiple times, only at non living and non moving targets
though it was a semi automatic shotgun so no pumping was
needed. You would load the shells in
from the bottom, pull back the slide and it was ready to fire
and as fast as you could pull the trigger.
I had kept it under my bed for years with the intent of using
it as a self-defense weapon but completely forgot about it.
I knelt beside the bed and bending down I reached under and
grabbed the case handle. A nice layer of dust had
accumulated on the top. Unlatching the locks, I lifted
the lid up and behold, there it lay.
I don't really care for vintage things, but I had to admit there
was an undeniable attraction to this weapon.
The stock was made of fine grain mahogany and the steel was black
with a blue Sheen. Despite the years, it hadn't
sustained much damage save for a few scrapes on the metal and
scratches in the wood. I reached in and picked it up,
mindful to grab it by the wooden parts, a habit deeply rooted
inside my brain. Thanks to my old man.
I brought the stock up to my shoulder, widening my stance.
I raised the barrel up and took aim.
This would do fine. I kept it unloaded because a
loaded gun in the house just made me nervous.
But I pulled the slide back to check, and with a metallic ka
chink sound, it was empty. As for ammunition, I only had a
box of 12 gauge slugs, but there was no way I could open the
shells and pour the ash in. I ended up buying an entire
shell manufacturing kit which would come in early Friday.
I spent Saturday watching countless tutorials on how to
build shotgun shells, how to mix the powder correctly, and
practicing making the ammunition Sunday.
I even visited a friend who had a large plot of land and allowed
me to assess my ammo. I didn't add any ash, I just
wanted to make sure I could make a round that wouldn't blow up on
me. Once I verified that I could
indeed fashion 12 gauge buckshot, I returned home to
make the ash laced slugs. The gun can hold 8 slugs Max, so
I made the first eight and loaded them in, then an
additional 16 with the supplies I had left.
I had bought a utility belt and a couple of satchels as well to
hold my ammunition and a bag of the ash mixture for the knife.
I had a sheath for the knife on the back of the belt, a satchel
of ammunition on my left and ash on my right.
I hoped I didn't have to get close enough to use the knife.
I decided Monday that I would head out during the night, even
though I would have much preferred going during the day.
The issue was being seen armed to the teeth, and people don't
take kindly to that sort of behavior nowadays.
I had left a note for my mom in the apartment, surely after not
returning her calls for a few days, she'd be over to see if I
were OK. It was a farewell note.
I told her everything regarding how I felt and that I plan to
take my life. I didn't mention the creature,
she wouldn't believe that part. Anyway, I left the entire bag of
cat food open for the cat so he could gorge himself over the
next few days, which would be more than enough time until mom
started to panic. Around 11 PMI started my journey
to the clearing. I bypassed the drainage ditch,
having no interest in going down there anymore, and proceeded
towards the trail. The trees loomed above me
disconcertingly, and the moon shone above, but in an
unwelcoming way. Now that the fall season had
come, Most of the trees had shed their leaves, but there were
still a few tinged with red and yellow.
An icy chill blew against me, but what made me shiver was that
I heard nothing. No signs of life, just the
swaying of trees and rusting of bushes from the wind.
I had an overwhelming sense of being watched.
I held the gun tighter to me, finger right above the trigger.
I had to convince myself several times on the walk not to turn
back, but finally the clearing came into view.
What once brought me so much joy and peace now brought contrition
and despair. I walked upon the desecrated
grounds until I reached the center of the clearing.
As I reached the center, something caught my eye, the
light cast by the moonlight glinting off a small reflective
surface. I bent down to investigate and
discovered it was a phone. James's phone to be exact.
It was face down, riddled with cracks.
I picked it up and turned it to its front side.
The front had sustained even more damage, but it was
undoubtedly his, a blue Samsung S21.
As I examined the phone even further, attempting to turn it
on, I had completely missed the thunderous pounding of hooves
against the earth and looked up to see the beast was charging me
on all fours, gaining ground fast.
I stood there, petrified as it continued to close the gap
between us. Right as it was a few feet in
front of me, fear gave way to rage and I lifted the shotgun up
and took aim. Five shots rang out, ears
ringing and the overwhelming smell of gunpowder in my
nostrils. I tried to regain my composure
from the recoil as the creature slammed into me.
The force of the beast had launched me several feet away,
where I landed on my back. The wind knocked out of me.
I inhaled deeply, pushing myself up into a sitting position, and
then, as I began to shift onto my knees, I looked up to see the
creature again. It was moving towards me once
more now. It appeared as if it were
bleeding, thick viscous blood leaking out of unseen wounds.
It stood on its hind legs and turned to face me, opening its
maw and letting out a voracious growl.
Then it started to run at me. In a panic, I grasped for my
gun, but it was about a foot away.
I only had a few seconds before it would reach me, my body
already starting to ache and stiffen from the trauma.
I leaped out for the gun, grabbed it, and swung it up to
aim at the creature, but I was too late.
Before I could even pull the trigger, the beast had slapped
it out of my hand, my hand nearly flying off my wrist as I
watched the shotgun soar off into the distance and crash into
the trees. It was over.
I had no right thinking this would work.
At least I went down fighting. It grabbed me by the shoulders,
digging its claws deep through skin, muscle tissue, all the way
down to bone. The pain made me nauseous.
I began screaming and writhing in pain as it pinned me down to
the ground. I began losing consciousness
when it brought its misshapen head towards my face.
I caught a glimpse of something familiar illuminated in the
moonlight. I saw the eyes first, then the
nose. It was James Face, but the skin
was stretched far too thin over its large skull, tearing in
various places and revealing red tissue underneath the eyes.
Bloodshot, the jaw hung on by a single sinew, and a long black
tongue hung haphazardly, flopping as it moved.
Then it stood up, and to keep me in place it brought a hoof down
hard onto my shin, splintering the bone into hundreds of
pieces. I wasn't going anywhere now.
I let out another scream, still looming.
It stared at me through his eyes before it began to gurgle out
words. I just need to get it off my
chest. With that, its rib cage splayed
open in a macabre explosion of bone and viscera.
It began to lower its torso over me.
A void stared back. It was though.
A black hole had nestled into this creature's bosom, and it
was going to suck me in and pull me apart from every direction
imaginable. I thought of how I was going to
be consumed, how it would go on to masquerade itself as me, how
it would lure my mom or friends out in the woods and then
mutilate them and continue the cycle.
I thought of how it spoke with James voice.
How much that angered me. Was I going to just let this
thing eat me like it did James? I was going to die no matter
what, so it didn't matter what I did at this point.
As it brought its body on top of mine, the rib cage began to
close in on my sides, puncturing the skin.
An unseen force began to pull me deep inside like a large vacuum.
I arced my back and reached under to pull the knife from the
sheath. I brought it up and then quickly
stabbed into my satchel, making sure to move it around and coat
the blade enough, accidentally stabbing myself in the process.
With my other hand, I grabbed the beast's neck to leverage
myself up and plunge the blade into its neck.
James eyes stared at me and widened.
The creature yelped like a wounded dog and immediately
jumped up and off me. I watched as it brought a claw
up to its neck and pulled at the blade.
It came out with a thunk, more oily liquid shooting out in a
geyser like fashion. It writhed and thrashed about,
swinging its claws aimlessly before collapsing on the ground
next to me. I watched it as it went through
its death throes, taking long labored and Flemmi breaths.
The breathing eventually stopped and it was dead.
I watched it for a while longer, not sure if I was out of danger
just yet. And then I noticed the skin
began to shift and bubble. The beast was shrinking in size,
reshaping itself. The horns, claws, and fur began
to shrivel away, and it began to take the form of something else.
It happened so fast, but right before it disintegrated into a
plume of ash, it looked like a middle-aged man with long black
hair. The knife lay in the pile of
ash. I crawled over to pick it up and
put it back into the sheath. I lay on my back for a few beats
to catch my breath before pulling out my phone and dialing
emergency services. They managed to dispatch a
helicopter since they wouldn't have been able to get an
ambulance on the trail and due to the severity of my injuries,
I was losing a lot of blood so I barely remember being strapped
into the Gurney and lifted onto the helicopter.
I spent the rest of the week in bandages and a leg cast,
enduring hospital food and my overly concerned mother.
I was discharged Thursday and would have to walk on crutches
for a little while, but I was glad to be home.
My furry friend was thrilled to see me and hasn't left my side
since. The first thing I did when I got
home was sit down on the couch and then I cried.
I didn't cry that much other than the first night, not even
at the funeral we had for James. I don't do well with my
emotions. I tend to drown them out with
hard liquor or fixate on something else.
I avoid them. But all the tears that had been
stored up came out like a dam opening its gates.
It was over. I felt like James was at peace,
and I sat with my emotions for the first time, embracing them
even. I don't know what I will do from
now on. I suppose.
Continue with my life now that I have closure.
I am sure I need some sort of psychological help from all of
this, and we'll plan to get that soon.
The last few days of this week I spent a lot of time sleeping and
I had the dream about the clearing again.
But this time when I revisit the dream, I am always in a
different place. I feel nothing though, just
emptiness and I've been feeling that way all week now come to
think of it. Anyway, thank you for reading
this and for all the suggestions.
This will be my Last Post. Stay out of the woods at night,
especially when drinking, and ignore any 10 year old girls you
may hear calling out to you amidst the trees.