This just happened last week, so it’s still fresh on my mind. I live out in Montana on my ranch that’s been owned by my family for some six generations. Actually, my family was the one who first made the ranch back in 1871 and were prominent supporters of Montana becoming a state. It’s actually something we take a bit of pride in, especially as the family legend goes that we never opposed the local Americans the same way many others did at the time. Still, that isn’t as important as what happened to me last week.
I believe my family was attacked by a Skinwalker. This happened last Tuesday night and I still can’t get the nightmares out of my head. I can’t seem to let go of what I saw that night. I believe it began with the visit of an elderly Native American woman dressed in traditional attire. She had come to the family ranch looking to buy several live chickens for some reason or another, I assume to raise for herself. Well, we didn’t sell live chickens and my dad told her as much. She seemed upset, claiming she knew we more than enough chickens to keep us going and insisted we sell her some. My dad is is a well meaning and good tempered man, he’s not one to get easily annoyed or upset. He told her politely that those chickens were being raised for their eggs and meat, which they needed for themselves. Times have been hard lately and the chickens are one of the best and most reliable sources of food we have, so selling them really wasn’t an option for us. She didn’t take this information kindly and warned my father that his “greed” would cost him greatly before leaving. I was stood not far behind my dad when he was trying to deal with this random stranger demanding he sell his chickens to her and I almost expected her to attack him or something rather than just walk off. We laughed it off later on though as just another Karen making entitled demands.
I woke up in the middle of the night to my dad screaming at me to get up. I was confused as it was only half one in the morning and we didn’t normally get up until five so we could do our morning rounds. That’s when I realized why he was screaming at me: it sounded like there was a pack of coyotes in with the hens we kept for egg laying. He had me get up and gave me one of the shotguns we kept to deal with the coyotes and told me to stay at the house in case they came this way (this wasn’t the first time we had to shoot coyotes, they’re the biggest issue we have to deal with out her) and told me to deal with as many of them as I could, given half a chance. I asked him where he was going and he told me he was going to deal with the coyotes before they killed the whole flock. Now, my dad is the meanest bastard I know when to comes to facing down coyotes. He’d been dealing with them himself since he was just a little kid, so I knew he could take care of himself. The howling stopped after thirty or so minutes and I assumed he’d dealt with them, judging by the several gunshots I heard.
He never came back.
An hour later and I was upstairs in my parents room with my mother and two sisters. We were arguing about whether or not to go after dad since he hadn’t returned yet. Before we could decide what to do, however, we were interrupted by a loud knocking coming from the front door. Dad didn’t need to knock, which is what scared us. Had something happen to dad? Who could’ve been knocking on the door if not him? He wasn’t known for his sense of humour, if he even had one. I crept downstairs and looked outside the dining room window as it had the best viewpoint of the front door. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was the same Native American lady from earlier in the day, the one who demanded my dad sell her some of his chickens. But… it also wasn’t her. I mean it looked like her, but also different. She seemed taller. Before she’d been much smaller than me and I’m 5ft5. She was taller than the door frame. And her hands. I couldn’t see all that clearly due to how dark it was, but for some reason I could clearly see her hands weren’t really hands but almost liked dog prints with claws. And her eyes glowed a deep red. I didn’t know what to make of it. I didn’t even know if I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. I was scared and it was dark, maybe it was just an illusion. But then she looked straight at me, raised her hand(?) and motioned for me to let her in.
A part of me felt compelled to let her in. It was the strangest feeling I’ve ever had, like some sort of sickness but in a good way. But another part of me just wanted to scream for her to leave, and I did. I started screaming and hollering for her to leave, telling her I’d shoot if she didn’t leave. I heard the others upstairs starting to scream at me, trying to get me to stop. It felt like it took forever but the woman outside just gave me a cruel smile before turning and walking away.
I ended up passing out right by the window. I don’t know what happened next, just that I was found unconscious after screaming at the window for several minutes. I woke up to the news that my dad had been found near the chicken coop. He was in serious condition: officially, he had been attacked by a large animal, thought to be a wolf or large coyote and he wasn’t expected to make it. But he managed to tell me, before slipping into a coma, that he was attacked by the woman who had come to the house earlier. He saw her turn from a coyote into a woman, then back into the coyote. If I hadn’t seen her for myself, I doubt I would have believed him.
My dad died this morning from his injuries. We’ve already decided to sell the ranch and move to another state. I have an aunt in LA willing to take us in until we can get on our feet. Not sure what my mum and sisters are going to do, but I put in for the Marines yesterday. I’m only 22, so it’ll be easy enough to get in. Going to bury dad then get the hell out of Montana. After what just happened, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow myself to go back. Never again.
horrorshow171764435.wordpress.com 