Skinwalker Stories #7

Story 1: I was always a very curious child, as my parents could probably tell you. What picked my curiosity the most as a child was the large patch of forest just beyond the boundaries of my backyard. When I was 8 years old, strange howling sounds would come from that patch of forest every night for around three months. My father never spoke about the sounds, instead ignoring them. My mother would only say that he wasn’t allowed due to him being native american. As you might guess, this always confused me. As I said, the sounds lasted for around three months and ended shortly after a medicine man from my father’s tribe paid a visit and went into the forest with him. Thinking back, I’m not sure if was a skinwalker or a wendigo, but I am certain it was one of those two.

Story 2: My brother was killed by a skinwalker. It happened when we were kids many years ago. We were out camping in the Appalachian mountains with our dad when it happened. The first night nothing happened. The second night is when things started getting weird. That is, we started hearing noises coming from the forest. It kept my dad up all night. The following day, we were hiking through to a cave we liked to visit we started hearing mom calling to us from the bush. Me and my dad were instantly suspicious. Mom hated the forest and would never come with us on our many camping trips. Strange thing is, mom was only calling my little brother. That is what set me on edge. Why only call my brother and not me and dad? Unfortunately, we’d find out. My brother was only nine and was very excitable. As soon as he heard mom calling him, he ran into the forest before my dad or I could stop him. It was like we were frozen in place. When we were finally able to move, we ran in the direction of my brother. After about five minutes, we encountered the most horrifying sight of my life. First thing I saw was the misshapen deer. It was standing on its hind legs and had these long arms that came to its knees. The mouth was full of sharp teeth dripping red with blood. And at the feet of this monster was my brother, lying dead and half eaten. My dad used his rifle to fire a few shots at this monster, scaring it off, but it was already too late. My brother had his entire stomach torn to pieces…. there was nothing we could do for him. I only found out later that the monster I saw was a skinwalker and that they are supposed to be evil spirits or something like that. I don’t know a lot about them and I don’t want to either. I don’t want to remember what happened to my brother. I no longer camp in those mountains anymore.