Skinwalker Stories #29

Note from editor: The stories below contain the names of individuals. For the sake of privacy and anonymity, names have been changed or omitted.

Story 1:

I learnt a long time ago that Skinwalkers are not something to be trifled with. Quite the opposite in fact. They are terrifying and dangerous. My encounter happened in Oklahoma a few years back. I was working for this construction crew and we’d been hired to do some work on this cabin some rich dick wanted renovating. Simple enough work in that it was just some new inner walls new insulation, a new roof and some solar panels for off grid power. Other than being in the middle of literal nowhere, it wasn’t difficult work. It was two weeks work and solid pay, so it wasn’t much of an issue with us. That came on the third day of work. One of the guys on the crew, Jamie, was already there. That was odd on its own since he was always late, but what made it even odder was the way he was acting throughout the day. Then he just upped and disappeared around lunch time. Again, that itself was odd since he normally worked through lunch so we didn’t expect him to just disappear. Me and another one from the crew, Barry, went off to find him while the rest got on with the work. We went to the trucks but couldn’t find him and we were about to make our way back to the shed when Barry pointed something out. There was a trail of blood leading from the trucks into the forest. Obviously, we thought something happened to Jamie and followed the trail. It didn’t take us long to find out what happened to him. We found his body. From the looks of it, he had been there all night. Barry almost threw up at the smell of the body. I was about to tell him to run back and get the others when I heard Jake call out to us. But… he was laying dead in front of us. Then Barry screamed and I saw why. Standing in front of us was some twisted version of Jamie. It… didn’t look right or natural. It had his face, but it was all pasty and and flaking off. There were horns on his… its head and it had this open smile that showed fangs rather than normal human teeth. It was horrifying. It just stood there, staring at us while drooling. Neither of us are scared easily, but7 both me and Barry started running the moment it started walking towards us. Not fifteen minutes we returned with the rest of the crew and a few guns we kept in the trucks. That fucking thing was still there, eating Jamie! I was carrying one of the guns as was our boss. We both fired a few rounds at it, but it didn’t even notice them! Then the chief said something I couldn’t quite make out before firing another shot. It was hit and went down before getting up, howling/screaming at us before running away on all fours. It was still wearing his face through all of this. Jamie had been torn to shreds and his death was eventually ruled as an animal attack, but to this day I wouldn’t consider whatever that thing was an animal. I’d later ask the chief what he said before taking the shot, but he would refuse to ever talk about it. We managed to complete the renovations without any more issues, but I later found out that the guy who owned it went missing during a stay at the cabin. I never want to see that thing again.

Story 2:

I’ve always enjoyed camping in places where people ought not to go. Caves no one but me can get to, cliffs considered too dangerous by other experienced climbers and I even spent a night on top of Mount Everest. To say I make sometimes undeniably stupid decisions is an understatement. But this one time really had me fucked. There’s this bit of land in Arizona that is said to have belonged to some Native American tribe some time ago. It’s really barren, but there is this old house on there that seems to have been abandoned for decades if not longer. I’d long planned to stay there for a bit, and since the pandemic has kept everyone indoors I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to spend a week there. August comes round and I make my way to that old house. I enter through the front door and see it. There’s a coyote just inside. Great. I didn’t know there were coyotes in the area. I slowly back out and away from it, right up until it stood on it’s hind legs. This fucking coyote stood up onto its hind legs! Then it talked. “I’ve been waiting for you Julie. Why don’t you come on in.” I screamed and started running. I got maybe 200 yards away from the house before tripping over. I looked behind me and saw it leaving the house. It didn’t look like a coyote anymore. This is hard to explain, but it looked as if it were turning into me. I didn’t stay to get a good look as I got up and ran the one and a half miles back to my car (I’d hiked to the house). I managed to get away and never saw it again. But then again, I’m never going back to that house again either.

Skinwalker Stories #28

Story 1:

This is an encounter I had in 1975, a few months after I returned home from Vietnam. Simply put, I was starting to grow tired of living in New York City after spending several years in that shithole war and decided I’d rather go out and live by myself for a while. This led me to living in the absolute wilderness of Texas, far from where the ranchers and really anyone else would go. Living rough wasn’t an issue for me (obviously, anything is better than having your ass handed to you by enemy forces), so all I had during that period of time was a small wood axe, a handgun and a few boxes of matches and ammo to see me through my self imposed exile. For a short while, everything seemed okay. I was finally able to get my thoughts together and make some sort of attempt to deal with everything that happened during the war. But then I started to notice someone occasionally walking through the particular area I chose to stay in. Thing is, I had chosen one of the most isolated parts of Texas since I didn’t want to chance encountering someone and having to play nice, so seeing someone this far out was a little concerning to me. Problem was, the few attempts I made in following them always ended up with me running into a pack of coyotes, or somehow losing them despite the relatively flat and open area we were in. A month after I started seeing this person, I started hearing screams at night. But not screams of terror, I know what they sound like. Instead, it sounded like someone was trying to scare me away from a distance, or perhaps warning me that they were coming after me. The screams were always followed by coyote howls and I only ever heard the screams at night. For very obvious reasons I was starting to consider leaving the area and returning to New York and what little family I had left there, but then the incident happened and I guess the decision was made for me. I’m talking about my encounter with it. To this day I’m not entirely sure what it was, but looking back with what I know now, I have a few guesses. This happened first week of October, on what would ultimately be my last night in Texas. It had already gotten dark by this point and I was expecting another night of hearing those damned screams. First thing I notice now is that I never heard a sound. There were no screams, at least none that I can remember. It was quite, right up until it came into my camp. I’d barely slept and had no real desire to do so, so I just sat by the campfire I’d made when I saw something approach. At first I was relieved at it just being another coyote. It wouldn’t bother with me since it was probably just curious about the fire and the smell of the meat I was cooking. I ignored it assuming it would just wonder off, that is until it started getting closer to the fire. That’s when I noticed its matted fur and grey and flaky skin. It looked ill, hell on a closer look it barely looked like a coyote at all! It got close to the fire, turned to me and then smiled. Then it stood up on its hind legs and walked through the fire towards me, still smiling at me. The look in its eyes changed from curiosity to the sort of malevolent intent someone wears only when they intend to kill someone. Instead of screaming like I assume it thought I would, I lifted my handgun and emptied a full clip into whatever the fuck it was. After emptying the clip in my gun, I turned to grab my axe and turned back to see that it had gone. There was ash and still burning embers that followed it trail towards me and then back the way it came. I don’t know how, but it must have moved faster than anything I’ve ever seen to be able to disappear that quickly. I didn’t take a chance at seeing whatever that thing was and left that night. I stayed in New York for a while before moving to Japan. For all the things I saw in Vietnam that have stayed with me, I don’t think anything could compare to what I saw that night in Texas and I refuse to forget it.

Story 2:

Once upon a time, I had a great uncle who lived out in Nevada with his wife and two kids. This was in the late 1800’s and they were practically on the frontier, something that I guess seemed really appealing to them. Anyway, they often had trouble with all the usual groups you’d expect them to deal with, from bandits to Native Americans. This meant that early on they were forced to move around a lot due to those reasons alone, let alone any number of other issues they had to face. Eventually, however, they did manage to settle down on a piece of land not too far from where the frontier met what was then the US border and they got a farm going. This next part is mostly just family legend, though I like to imagine it’s somewhat true. You see, the land they settled on was said to be considered evil land or taboo land for the Native Americans of the area, since their legends spoke of evil spirits that inhabited that particular stretch of land. They still had the occasional issues with bandits and the like, but since it was far from being the true frontier it ended up being the sort of problem solved with a few rounds of ammo and a quick trip into the nearest town to collect a small bounty. Content with their new home and no longer having to deal with bandits or Native Americans, my great uncle and his family did pretty well for themselves for a few years before the events surrounding his death happened. By events, I mean a series of short encounters with what can only be described as a Skinwalker if the family legend is accurate. It began one autumn during the harvest when my great uncle began seeing a Native American woman on the edge of his property. That in itself was weird since they never came onto that piece of land, though he guessed she was one of the many outcasts that had been rumoured to be wandering around that part of the US. Regardless, she’d never stay long and would often flee upon spotting and being spotted by my great uncle. Then things started to get…. Stranger, and not in the good way. They started to get concerned over the increasing coyote and mountain lion activity in the area, which for obvious reasons pushed thoughts about that strange woman to one side. My great uncle raised cattle for a living, so the biggest concern was that coyotes or mountain lions would begin picking off his cattle one by one. Being the rancher that he was, him and his eldest son began hunting the predators and would occasionally kill a few mountain lions. Weirdest thing was that they never came across any coyotes despite hearing them all the time. What they would see often enough was the woman from the edge of the property and a handful of other Native American women, most of whom looked elderly and ragged. They would tend to keep to themselves and avoid my great uncle and his son, fleeing anytime they encountered them. This continued well into winter, right up until the first incident happened. After a few months of searching, my great uncle finally saw a coyote in one of the valleys near his farm. He raised his gun, took aim and shot the animal, but despite what he considered a clean kill he was unable to find the body. There was plenty of blood, sure, but it looked as though the body just up and vanished. That night, several of his cattle went missing. There was a mix of coyote and human tracks with the blame obviously falling to the Native American women he’d been seeing. He came to the belief that they’d ben somehow raising coyotes like most people do with dogs and that’s why they hadn’t seen any until recently. Over the following weeks, more cattle would disappear until only a handful were left despite many attempts by my great uncle to keep the women and coyotes from getting to them. It came to a head when he was out searching for them one day. He saw a group of them and fired a few shots towards them and supposedly hit one. Even though he didn’t mean to actually shoot any of them, having the intentions of simply scaring them off, he just hoped it would mean they would avoid his farm from then on out. That night, they came not for the cattle but for him. From what his wife and two sons would later describe, a group of Native American women surrounded their homestead and demanded him to come out. Seeing that they were just a bunch of unarmed women, he obviously came out and started shooting at them in an attempt to scare them off while his wife and two sons stayed inside. They watched helplessly from the windows as the women turned from elderly looking women into tall monsters with grey skin and monstrous teeth and horns before proceeding to tear him apart. He tried shooting them before ultimately deciding to try and get back inside, but they were too fast and got to him before he even had a chance to realize what was going on. After killing him, they continued to stalk the homestead until dawn, seemingly expecting one of the others to come out and help my great uncle. Neither the two sons or the wife wanted to go outside with them out there and were frozen in fear inside the building itself. When the sun rose the following morning, the women/monsters all left, leaving the mauled body of my great uncle behind with his frightened and traumatized family. They very quickly packed what valuables they had and left that day, never to return, and chose to return to England where my great uncle was from. The legend has been passed down the family ever since.

Skinwalker Stories #27

Story 1:

I live in the UK now, but I grew up in West Virginia. The reason I live in the UK now is because of the two encounters I had with a Skinwalker when I was younger. The first encounter happened when I was ten. My grandfather owned a corn farm back twenty years ago when the first encounter happened. The reason why me and my parents were there was for a big family gathering to celebrate the birthday of one of my aunts. Now, it’s important to note that my grandfathers farm had three parts to it. There was the house itself with the road leading up to it, the large cornfields and then a small patch of wooded area that separated the far side of the cornfield with the nearby neighbours. Me and my two cousins were playing in the wooded area, fighting with sticks and other shit you;d expect a ten, nine and six year old to do, when we heard my mom calling us from the house. My two cousins immediately ran towards the house, and I was about to follow them when I thought I could hear my father calling for me from the other side of the wooded area. This wasn’t strange since him and my grandfather liked to hunt in and around there since it was a popular feeding spot for deer (the small pond probably didn’t hurt either). So of course I started going to where I thought he was. I got past this large rock when I heard my father again, but this time coming from the rock I just past. I was a little confused, that is until I turned around and saw it. This 9 foot tall monster looking right at me! It was tall, had pale skin that was flaking off, and antlers on top of a grotesque head that snarled at me. That image is forever burned into my mind. Even more after it lunged at me. That’s the last thing I remember that day. This horrific monster lunging at me. I was later told that my father came out looking for me and found me laying unconscious on the floor covered in blood, this thing carrying me in its arms. He took a warning shot which caused the monster to drop me and run off. I was covered in blood, but was somehow uninjured. My second encounter happened two years later. By then, the wooded area had been cleared and turned into a pig farm owned and ran by my grandfather. The problem was some of his pigs were going missing and he suspected coyotes were somehow getting to them. So my parents and I moved to the farm during summer break so my father and grandfather could try and track down the animals responsible for taking the pigs. This happened about a week after we moved in. For obvious reasons, I wouldn’t near to where the wooded area used to be, instead I was happy just walking through the cornfield towards the old barn even though I knew I wasn’t allowed there. I didn’t go far however before the smell hit me. It was similar to the smell of that monster from two years before. I tried to dismiss it as just nerves playing tricks with my mind or some stupid shit like that, right up until I saw it. It was the monster that had attacked me before. But it hadn’t noticed me. It took everything I had not to make a sound as I tried to back away. It was only when it stood up from its crouch that I screamed and ran as fast as I could back to the house. I barged into the door and did my best to tell my father about seeing it again through all the crying. To this day, I wish I stopped him and my grandfather from leaving. They both grabbed their hunting rifles and went to find it, but they never returned. We never found out what happened to them. Six months after that, my mother and I moved to England where she was from and to this day I refuse to return to West Virginia. I never want to see that monster again.

Story 2:

I live in a small town in South Carolina and as you might expect, it’s as boring as hell. I, however, spend a lot of my time camping so it never really bothered me. Well, this particular camping trip took place in a popular campsite that was closed for the winter (it closed between the months of October through to March and this happened late November) and it’s something that has stuck with me ever since. I got my tent, a small stove, the rest of the camping equipment I needed and permission from the owner of the campsite (a good friend of mine) and quickly set up for an overnight stay near to a community hall like building usually reserved for parties and the like. It was going well. It was only around after it got dark when strange things began to happen. For one, I started to hear wolf howls. That was a new one to me (not really, I grew up in Cali before moving) since there are no wolves in South Carolina. It didn’t really alarm me since it sounded like they were way off, but it did have me curious as to how wolves got this far East. I listened to the howls for about another hour before I decided to try and get some sleep, but that didn’t last too long. I don’t know how long it was watching me for, but I was woken up by the howl of a wolf coming from the nearby community hall. It was, as I thought at the time, a single wolf. Looking back, I wasn’t as scared as I should’ve been and that was probably because of the gun I had on me. Minutes went by and I didn’t hear anything and I assumed it had moved on when I heard it. A low voice coming from just outside my tent. “I know you’re in there,” it said, “Why don’t you come on out so we can meet properly.” For some reason I just froze up in fear. I can’t explain it, but something about that voice just had me all locked up. “Don’t keep me waiting friend,” it said through the tent. But I couldn’t move. I wanted to reach for my gun, but I just couldn’t reach it despite it being right next to me. “Oh, come now friend, you don’t need the gun. It wouldn’t work on me anyway friend.” Hearing that was the worst part. Or would have been had it not immediately followed up by howling exactly like the wolf and started sniffing the tent. This went on for the rest of the night. To this day, I’m glad it didn’t decide to just tear through my tent and have no desire to find out why it didn’t do that.

Skinwalker Stories #26

Story 1:

I dreamt of Skinwalkers long before I actually ever saw one. Well, I say dream. It was always more of a recurring nightmare. In this nightmare, I would find myself on this road surrounded by forest. No matter how far I walked I would never come across any signs of other people. No cars, no gas stations, nothing. Not even a sign that would tell me where I was. After what felt like hours of walking, I eventually get to a solitary street light just randomly placed out in the middle of nowhere. However, it was always placed in the middle of this road rather than to the side. It was always on, of course, and the light allowed me to see just enough to catch a glimpse of a figure out in the darkness just beyond the reach of the street light opposite of me. I felt complied to call out, to try and call out for help from this mysterious figure. But then it would turn around as it noticed me and step into the light. What I saw would always make me sick – a tall thing with pale grey skin, a rotten deers head with a large set of antlers and long gangly arms and legs. I stood there, frozen in fear and sick to my stomach as it started coming towards me. It would eventually reach out to me and grabbed me by the head with one hand, picking me up as the other arm prepared to decapitate me, but I would always wake up right before it actually hit me.

The dreams stopped a few years ago when I had my real life encounter. It was late on Boxing Day and I was driving home after spending Christmas with my parents (I had to start work three days after Christmas Day) when my car suddenly stopped. I checked the fuel and I realized I was out of fuel. I had just passed a gas station not twenty minutes prior and had an empty fuel can in my boot, so after retrieving it I started the walk back to the gas station. It took longer than I expected and I started to suspect that the gas station was a little further than I thought when I saw it. Ahead of me was a pair of street lights. Unlike in my dream they were placed normally alongside the road, but what I saw lit up was even more horrifying than any nightmare I had previously. Lit up on the road was that thing I saw in my dreams, holding another person. I saw it decapitate him, then turn around and notice me, but with this huge grin on its face and this look in its eyes. Oh god, I’ll never forget that look! I don’t know how or why, but I just started running back to my car and locked myself inside. What I didn’t know at first was that it had followed me and that it saw me lock myself into my car. But I quickly noticed when it tried to approach from behind me. Now, I always carry a handgun in my car, just in case I ever need it and I did what I thought would be a good idea. I rolled down my window and fired a few shots at it, (I think) missing it, but scaring it off for the time being. But it always came back. The weirdest thing was that it never kept the same shape. It would sometimes look like a coyote, or a person or a deer, but it always had the head of a deer, long gangly limbs and that disgusting pale skin that seemed like it was rotting off. Sometimes, though, it moved its mouth as if it were trying to speak to me but I never actually heard any sounds come from it, whatever it was. Eventually, it seemed to lose interest in me and left the way it came just as the sun started to rise. I stayed in my car for another few hours before making another attempt at finding the gas station. Fortunately, I never saw it again and I’m thankful for that. I never want to see it again.

Story 2:

This happened shortly before I retired as a Police Officer. I’m not going to mention where it happened or who I am, since I’d rather not be hounded about it but I do feel the need to share it somewhere and this seems like the right place. So, a few months before I retired I was patrolling some back-end country roads just outside the town I was in. It was easy enough work, not much in way of trouble and very rarely was any trouble worth more work than a ticket or two. You know, simple stuff like some dumbass teens thinking the roads were perfect for “forgetting” the speed limit or someone having a broken tail light. It was easy enough work and honestly I preferred spending the last few months of my working life with a bit of peace and quiet, especially after spending so many years serving the police force. But this one incident, its stuck with me and I doubt I’d ever forget it. Now, this all started with the disappearance of a local Native kid who ran away from home. His father turned out to be a real prick towards his kid, so I hardly blame the kid for running. Thing is, he was found a few days after being reported missing. Unfortunately, he was found dead in the woods, apparently mawed to death by a wild animal. It happens sometimes, especially around here since we have a fair few coyotes packs. The reason I bring this up is because it turns out the kid was actually close to this woman known for being… weird. She lived out in those woods and rarely interacted with anyone else. But she and the kid were close and one of my colleagues saw fit to ask her if she saw him after he went missing. He came back and said she denied ever even knowing him (a lie since everyone knew about his frequent visits to her shack). But since his death was ruled as a result of an animal attack, no one ever followed up on her…. Until my encounter. This happened a week after the kid was found. I was on night patrol near the forest where he was found and the woman lived when I got a report of a traffic collision a few miles from my location. Since I was the closest I was called to the scene as first responder. As expected, I was first on the scene. The car was there and I immediately noticed the blood on the front bumper and all over the road. At first I though the guy struck an animal and called it in thinking he hit someone. That’s when I noticed no one was around. The driver had seemingly gone off somewhere, probably running from the scene. I was about to call it in when I heard someone scream from the forest (right side of myself) and my training immediately kicked in. I pulled my gun and flash light after calling in what had just happened and went straight to where the sound was. It took less than five minutes to find the source. It was who I presumed was the driver of the car, lying on the ground covered in blood with it standing over him. It is of course the Skinwalker (I only knew about them from local legends up until this point). It looked like a twisted amalgamation of a human and a coyote, and frankly smelled like it was rotting. It was covered in blood and was snarling at me to “go away”! It actually spoke in this unnatural way! I fired two shots at it when it tried to make a move towards me, but neither shot seemed to stop it despite hitting the damn thing. I fired another two shots, before it raised its head to look behind me and running off. Another two patrol cars had arrived and had heard my gunshots. All four men had seen that thing just as it ran away, with three of them going to pursue whatever it was. The other and I stayed to secure the body of the driver (he was already dead). Long story short, the three officers chased that thing down to the old ladies shack, where it supposedly transformed back into the woman and was promptly killed. I don;t know what really happened, since none of them would really talk about it. But a journal found not long after seemed to convince the higher ups that she had been responsible for the death of the kid as well as the driver. The whole Skinwalker part though? Quietly hidden from public records. The official reports were made to blame her and her “dog” on the deaths. I don’t miss being an officer after remembering that case and a few others from earlier in my career.

Skinwalker Stories #25

Story 1:

This just happened last night and I’m still unsure if what I saw was real or not. I work as a truck driver and for the last few weeks I’ve been hauling log piles back and forth between various sites down in Louisiana. It’s long hours, stressful to all hell and pays pretty good. Last night I was on my way to a logging camp out in the middle of nowhere when my truck suddenly broke down. It was utter bullshit, since I had it checked out not three days ago and the mechanics said it was all fine. For the record, I keep my truck in good order since I own it (many truckers own their cabin) and it’s my livelihood down the drain if it ever breaks down. I wasn’t carrying any lumber at the time but was still on a deadline, so I had to get on the radio and call ahead to tell the foreman I was going to be late due to issues with my engine. However, when I tried to get through all I heard back was static. My radio was just as fucked as my truck. Annoyed, I tried using my phone and then realized I was so far out that I wasn’t getting any signal out here. So I did the next best thing and decided to try and take a look at it myself. If I could get the truck moving then I could get it to the camp and have one of the onsite engineers look at it. I barely got out when the smell hit me. This sounds weird but I could smell rotten meat. It was so thick and strong that I immediately threw up there and then. I turned back towards the truck and was about to climb back in to get a bottle of water when I heard it. That screech that shook me to my core. It was coming from behind me. I turned to look and saw nothing. I knew there was a forest in front of me, I’d been driving through a stretch of forest by this point for a good hour or so. But it was so dark I couldn’t see anything past the edge of the road. Then another loud screech came from just ahead of my truck and again I turned to see what was making the noise. I really wish I hadn’t. Standing right there was this monster! That’s the best way I can describe it. It was tall and skinny and looked as if it had been starving itself. There were these weird antlers on its head that seemed to go everywhere at once. There was very little hair, instead it had this sort of grey skin that looked to be peeling off everywhere at once. The only reason I could see this much detail is that the headlights on my truck suddenly came on, giving me a very clear look at whatever this thing was. It snarled at me and started coming towards me, but then stopped and turned towards the road ahead of my truck. Another pair of headlights could only mean another vehicle was coming down the road. I took the opportunity to get back into my truck, but by the time I looked back out to where that thing was it had long since gone. The vehicle approaching just drove past without stopping (it was just a car). My truck suddenly started just as quickly as that thing had vanished. I didn’t wait around to find out if it would return. I only mentioned it to one person when I got to the logging camp, to someone I know regularly hunts in these very woods. He told me it was a Skinwalker, but I don;t even know what that is. All I know is that I never want to see it again.

Story 2:

This is a story my father told me growing up. Now he lived on a reservation with my grandparents, all of them being Navajo. One day when he was nine, a pair of hunters came into the reservation asking to see the local medicine man. That would be my grandfather at the time. So he went out and saw the pair of them and then they led him out into the forest just outside the reservation itself. Supposedly he was gone for over three days before returning. When my father asked him what happened, my grandfather wouldn’t speak off it ever (he actually died never having said a word about the incident).

Years later and my father was now in his mid twenties. He’d gone off to University to study Psychology when he ran into my mother (or the woman who’d later become my mother). After they started dating, he went to meet her parents. Surprisingly, her father was on of the hunters who had come onto the reservation that day years ago and he recognized my father! He would eventually tell my father what really happened back then.

Apparently, him and his brother were hunting for deer, making sure not to trespass on the Indian Reservation when they encountered a Skinwalker standing over the body of a young girl. They fired a couple of rounds at it, scaring it off and away from the little girl. Sadly, she was already dead but they both recognized her as the daughter of one of the Indians that lived on the reservation. They immediately took the body back to the tribe and that’s when they called out for my grandfather. He apparently immediately recognized what had done this and after gathering salt and blessing their weapons with it (I’m not sure if that’s the proper term), they set off to kill the Skinwalker. The first two days they managed to somehow track it before managing to kill it on the third day. My grandfather encouraged the two hunters never to speak of it again and that he would take responsibility for the body. They never found out what happened after that.

The Tuesday Killer

Inspired by the true story of the Toy Box Killer

Tuesday 7 th September, 2021 – 4:00pm:
Kelly Graham stumbled through the grassy meadow, bloody and broken yet doing everything she could to get away from her prison. She could barely run, unable to feel her legs she somehow managed to find strength enough to keep moving. Kelly could hear the sounds of people yelling behind her, screaming for her return. But the adrenaline and fear conspired to block her sense of hearing and kept pressing her to just move forward. Neither the pain nor the cold slowed her down. Kelly made no mistake: she was fleeing for her life.

Tuesday 6 th October, 1981 – 6:00pm:
It wasn’t long before the body of Jasmine Williams was found. Abandoned near a park, two kids accidentally stumbled upon the broken, battered remains of this victim. It was a horrifying sight to be sure. Local police quickly cordoned off the area and the body was taken to the morgue. It became very clear that she had been tortured before being murdered by her killer. No one even considered the remote possibility of a serial killer and the murder was dismissed as a one time crime. The killer would spend the next forty years killing and getting away with his crimes.

Tuesday 7 th September, 2021 – 4:35pm:
Kelly managed to lose her pursuers but she didn’t know for how long. She had to get somewhere safe, somewhere she could call for help. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, still compelling her forward and away from them. She eventually hit a road that went north and followed it. Kelly didn’t know where it would take her but she didn’t care. She ran and ran and ran, ignoring the pain and the cold, until she came across an open gas station. She had barely opened the door before passing out from the pain and blood loss, much to the horror of the gas station attendant.

Wednesday 8 th September, 2021 – 11:18am:
Kelly woke up in the hospital alone. She struggled to remember the events that led her here, but quickly gave up. She wanted to forget it all. She continued to lay still on the hospital bed, praying to wake up from this horrible nightmare she found herself in. But of course it was very much real. A nightmare made real that would always haunt her. Not wanting to focus on what happened, she instead made an effort to try and sit up. Many of her injuries hadn’t had enough time to heal and screamed out in pain, but she ignored it all. She didn’t want to remember. The pain wasn’t real, just another part of a nightmare she would soon wake up from.

Wednesday 8 th September, 2021 – 11:58am:
FBI Agent Frank Kurosi waited patiently for the doctor to return. He didn’t know the woman he’d come to see personally. Instead, he had been alerted to her rather unique circumstances by a friend in the local PD who he had worked with on a case two years prior. It was that very same case that had led both men to develop an interest in this woman. Kurosi began to grow impatient. The doctor had been in the room for too long and it was starting to irritate the agent. He was about to enter the room regardless when the doctor came out. “Agent Kurosi, she’ll see you now,” he said. Kurosi wasted no time and hurried past the doctor. Kelly Graham was sitting upright on the bed with the demeanour and quiet contemplation of someone suffering from a nightmarish trauma. Evenfully covered up, he could clearly see the worst of the scars she bore. Scars he had seen a thousand times before in a thousand different people. In situations like these, it was best to tread carefully.
“Kelly? I was hoping to speak to you? About what happened?”
She turned to face him and gave a weak smile.
“You’re the FBI agent?”
“That’s right ma’am. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“I don’t really know if I can. I just want to forget it all.”
“I know. But I want to get the bastard who did this to you. But I need your help.”
Kelly made another attempt to smile, but it came across poorly. She had strength, but for how much longer?
“Alright. I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”
“Do you know who did this to you?”
“No. They… made sure to hide themselves.”
“They?”
“There were two or three of them. There was always one person who kept coming back and he would bring someone new every time.”
“I’m sorry, but do you remember what they did to you?”
Kelly grew quiet and looked away.
“Kelly? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“No. I just… need a minute.”
The memories were difficult to recall for her. The injuries alone told the tale of the crime against her, he didn’t need her words. But Kurosi knew that if she were willing to tell him then she might be willing to let a courtroom hear her story. Anybody could relay a tale as horrific as this one, but only an emotional appeal from a victim would secure the final verdict for the one responsible.
“They did things,” she finally began to describe, “I don’t remember it all. I remember something about a video. And a voice.”
“Good, good. Do you remember anything about where you were? Where they kept you?”
“It was a small trailer. Out in a field or maybe a meadow?”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“I’m sorry. But when I escaped I didn’t dare look back.”
Kurosi smiled.
“It’s okay. Get some rest.”
He pulled a card out of his pocket and put it onto the cabinet next to the bed.
“I’m going to find who did this to you Kelly. I’d like your help with that. If you remember anything else, no matter how small the detail, please give me a call.”
“I… OK. I’ll do that.”

Tuesday 20 th April, 2004 – 5:00pm
Detective Frank Kurosi stepped out of his unmarked police car and walked up to the crime scene. The body had been found not twenty minutes earlier and already it had been drawing the attention of much of the NYPD. Serial Killers were hardly the most common criminal, even in New York City, and this was only one body. But it already bore all the hallmarks of a killer with experience. It was a disturbing scene with disturbing implications, but it might as well have been just another day
in this crime-ridden city.
“Whaddya think boss? Someone decided to get creative with this one,” Jun noted.
“I think whoever did this has a cruel sense of humour,” Kurosi noted with dark wit.
Him and Jun went way back, having originally met back in the academy before separately moving their way up the NYPD and once again becoming partners in Homicide.
“Right. ‘Nother sicko in a city full of ‘em.”
“Who called it in?”
“Some jogger. Attractive too. Shame really, some of the guys are claiming she’s involved.”
“Wait, what?”“Yeah, well some of the guys here are saying she found the body too easy to not be involved.”
“Since when was finding a body in New York difficult?”
“Well, you never know. She might be involved.”
“And I might be the next US President. Whose the victim?”
“Dunno. There’s no ID on the body and canvas didn’t find anything either.”
“Aright, have the stiffs get her photo and check out the MP board. And put out an alert for anyone matching her description.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“I have that interview later today.”
“Right, right. Feds. I remember. Hope they treat you better than our dame here.”

Thursday 9 th September 2021 – 11:15am:
Kurosi sat in his office going over the detailed notes he had made in regards to the Kelly Graham case. After speaking with her, he thought there was something familiar about her injuries. Well, thought may have been a bit much. It really was nothing more than a mere feeling. But it kept gnawing at him, as if he’d seen this all before. On a hunch he decided to call up his old partner and get some files on an unsolved case the pair had worked on. Actually, it was the last case the two worked on and the last one Kurosi had before joining the FBI. It went unsolved because the victim couldn’t be identified and the killer was never caught. He had just received the case file not fifteen minutes ago and already he saw disturbing similarities. Indeed the injuries were the same, but it
wasn’t just that. Kelly had also been found without any clothes on, just like the murder victim, as well as no ID. Both were redheads, around 5 foot 5, pale skin and had no tattoos. And both were moderately attractive, with a slim, well toned physique that showed a high degree of interest in their own physical fitness. The two cases were too similar to discount a connection, yet were thousands of miles and seventeen years apart. That could only mean a serial killer was responsible in both cases. And where there were two there were usually more. Many, many more. The disturbing revelation of a serial killer roaming the country wasn’t as strange as it used to be. Kurosi remembered a more innocent time, a time when he wasn’t aware of the larger-than-commonly accepted figure spread throughout pop culture. If only there were eight in the whole US!
It would make the FBI Homicide Division near useless. It would make for a pleasant dream.
“You wanted to speak with me Frank?”
Richard Schneider was the supervising agent at this office. He was also smarter than the best of them.
“Come on in Richie. And close the door behind you.”
“What’s all this about?”
“I have… reason to believe a serial killer is active in the area.”
Schneider laughed. No serial killer had been active in the area in a good long while.
“I mean it Richard. I spoke with the latest victim yesterday.”
“Wait, what?”
Schneider stopped laughing and suddenly became all too serious as Kurosi slid the two case files over to him.
“Kelly Graham. 28 years old, the survivor. Unidentified victim. Mid to late 20’s. Same MO,
seventeen years apart in different states.”
“And you’re sure about this?”
“Absolutely. There’s too many similarities and too many little things. The injuries are the same, the victims are of the same age and type. Evidence indicates they had shared interests in physical fitness. It’s either the same guy or a very clever copy cat.”
“This is a file from the NYPD? One of yours?”
“My last. Never solved. At the time we dismissed it as some freak with a torture fetish, though I suppose that wasn’t too far off the mark. A lot of weirdos in New York.”
Schneider was hoping the next couple of months would be easy going. He was due to retire in January.

“Alright. Take Roberts, Garrick and Wayne and see what you can find out.”
“Right. I’ll have them search the area Kelly was found. Hopefully they should pick up the trail of the killer.”
“Fine. I want a report on Monday. Don’t spare any details.”
“Yes sir.”

Friday 10 th September, 2021 – 10:10am:
Roberts and Garrick arrived at the old gas station, not really expecting to find anything important. They’d already been filled in, watched the tapes and read the interview transcripts. Their only real lead now was to hopefully backtrack the route taken by the last victim during her escape. And they needed the tracking dog since it had already been several days since her escape and the local PD hadn’t bothered following up. Lazy bums weren’t exactly quick to investigate the case of a bloody, naked woman passing out onto the floor of a gas station miles outside of town, instead thinking it
was just another random rape by a stranger and therefore unsolvable and not worth their time beyond the basics.
“Think we’ll find anything,” Garrick asked.
“Hopefully. Keep your eyes open. Kurosi wouldn’t have sent us out here if he didn’t think we’d find something.”
The dog managed to pick up a faint scent and followed the trail. Not thirty minutes later and a mile and a half later, the dog led the to agents to the middle of a field and to an old trailer. Drawing their guns, the pair cautiously approached the odd sight.
“We should call it in,” Roberts insisted, “Get Kurosi on the line.”

Friday 10 th September, 2021 – 10:45am:
Kurosi arrived at the site, warrant in hand and a Forensics team in tow. The trailer just sat there, so out of place and so far from where it would be seen from suspicious eyes. This is where his suspicions of an active serial killer in the area would be confirmed and where real progress could and would be made.
“Garrick, open the door. Me and Roberts will cover you,” he ordered.
Guns raised the three agents secured the outside of the trailer before Garrick made the slow and cautious journey to the sole entry into the trailer. Carefully, he opened the door and with a loud voice announced,
“This is the FBI! Come out with your hands raised!”
He repeated himself one last time before fully opening the door and confirming the presence of two, no three people inside. He almost didn’t see the person strapped to the table. One of the two individuals dared to make a sudden move and Garrick reacted instantly, firing a warning shot that hit the person in the shoulder. Kurosi and Roberts instantly swarmed the trailer with Garrick, forcing the two people out and immediately arresting them. The third had to be helped out, her injuries making the effort delicate and painful. This wasn’t a situation any of them expected.

Sunday 4 th October, 1981 – 7:34pm:
Mark felt the urge to kill again. The indescribable urge to hurt someone, make them beg and then… end it. It caused him to grate his teeth. He shouldn’t kill, he knew that much. Better to stick with animals if it ever proved too much. But it no longer ended the same way. Animals just weren’t enough anymore. It had be someone. It had to be a person. It was the only way he could be satisfied. He had to kill someone. He had to make them suffer. But who? Of all the people in the world, who would be the one to satisfy his urges? And then he remembered. Jasmine. A nobody – a prostitute
who had spurned his advances weeks ago. She would never be missed. And if she were ever found, then the thought occurred to him. What if she were found? Found bearing the scars of his pleasure, a message of longing and bliss for those who would come after her. Yes, she would be the first to die, to help him understand how to speak and how to love someone through pain. She wasn’t far, a mere walk away from him. He knew where she lived, the paths she walked. And he knew exactly where to take her, far from prying eyes. Soon, these urges would be fulfilled and he would have his fun.

Friday 10 th September, 2021 – 1:12pm:
Mark sat in the interrogation room silently, lost in sick and twisted memories shared only with his many victims and the occasional accomplice. He knew why he was here, he simply didn’t care. The urge was long since satisfied and his memories were more than enough to keep him happy. Outside, Kurosi looked through the one way mirror trying to detect any signs of guilt but the bastard instead showed more signs of pride and delight as opposed to anything akin to shame or guilt. Most serial killers at least tried to look remorseful.
“You ready to do this Kurosi,” Wayne asked.
“You go first. If I go in, I’ll pin him to the fucking wall using the legs from his chair.”
“Sure thing boss.”
“Keep it straight. Remember, you’re being recorded.”
“Right.
….
Wayne entered the interrogation room and sat down opposite of Mark. There wasn’t any need for pleasantries, they both knew why they were here.
“So, Mark. Ever been to New York?”
“Several times,” the killer smirked, “My work often takes me there.”
“My boss is from there. Brooklyn kid. You ever been to Central Park.”
“I’ve been through it before now. Was hoping to go visit the zoo there at some point.”
Mark leaned into certain words in an attempt to show how proud he was in getting away with all his murders without actually revealing anything.
“You know, the other day my boss and I got talking. You see, he was a cop in a former life. Worked homicide. The last job he worked on he never solved.”
Wayne slid a photo of a deceased woman over to Mark.
“Recognize her?”
The look on his face said it all. The mix of surprise and shock were the immediate indicators of guilt and perhaps no small amount of deep pride.
“You got me. I did her in a few years back. Nothing sexual mind you, it’s never been like that for me. She was around… oh four I think. Can’t remember the exact date, but I knew I dumped her on a Tuesday.”
“Why Tuesday?”
“Why not? I always dump them on Tuesdays.”
Wayne became confused. Did he know what he was confessing to?
“You make it sound like there was more than one.”
“Ohhh, there was definitely more than one. Has she remembered anything yet?”
“Who?”
“The one who got away on Tuesday? She was pretty. Shame I couldn’t finish the job.”
Wayne suppressed the urge to recoil, hiding the disgust that was stirring inside.
“I guess it doesn’t matter. I doubt she’d recognize me.”
Wayne slid a photo of Kelly over.
“You mean this one?”
“Yeah,” Marked laughed, “She escaped just in time. Lucky her. There isn’t any chance I could finish the job?”
The last question was asked as seriously as it could have been, causing the FBI agent to visibly recoil. In that moment he considered the things he would do to the bastard and his question, instead deciding it was better to get a drink and calm down.
….
Schneider saw the whole thing, watching in equal if not greater disgust than Kurosi.

“Don’t worry about the prosecution. I’ll talk to a judge and the prosecutor and have the paperwork
done by the end of tomorrow,” he stated to no one in particular.
“I’ll make sure you have a copy of this interview before you leave,” Kurosi added, “Is Richardson and Levi available? I want someone in there talking to him.”
“They’re currently working that bank heist in the Colorado Springs. You’ll have them tomorrow morning.”
Kurosi turned to his boss and friend.
“This is too easy for it to be so simple. There’s more victims out there.”
“I agree. Have the others look into it, but come to me if you have issues with any local PD. Kurosi, I want a solid case with evidence by next Friday. No Excuses.”
“Got it sir.”

Saturday 11 th September, 2021 – 10:46am:
Kelly was scared to leave the hospital, but ironically also wished to leave and never return. The hospital was safe, secure, but it also reminded her of the nightmare she had endured and fled from. In the end, she knew she couldn’t stay forever and that she would have to return home, return to a life before the pain and torture. The doctors had told her that the physical injuries would heal in time, leaving little to no scar tissue. But the memories would remain, always haunting her every time she closed her eyes. The horror of it all was in the failure to forget. Forget the many painful instruments, forget the all the staring eyes, the cameras watching her every move. Forget him and
the things he did to her. She never wanted to remember again.
….
Kurosi arrived back at the hospital just in time to catch Kelly leaving.
“Kelly,” he called out to her, “Wait up!”
She turned to him and smiled.
“Agent Kurosi. It’s nice to see you again.”
“I know this is unexpected, but we found the trailer. We found him!”
Kelly took a moment to process what she had just been told. It was… embracing and terrifying at the same time. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, all the memories of the three days she spent at the mercy of this monster that haunted her every moment. It couldn’t be true, would he really have been caught that quickly? She was utterly speechless.
“… I… I’m not sure what to say! I… uh…,”
Kurosi smiled before saying,
“Before you do, I want to make sure you’re okay with us pursuing your case. Really, I want you to come back to my office with me and make an official statement.”
“Will that really help? I mean, I’m not sure what else I can add that could help you.”
“You’ll see. Please trust me Kelly, this will help put him away fro a very long time.”

Saturday 11 th September, 2021 – 11:46am:
“So what do I say here,” Kelly asked nervously.
“Just describe what happened, as accurately as you can,” Wayne told her, “But remember to be honest and clear. If you’re unsure about certain things, it’s better to say so rather than trying to fill in the gaps.”
“Alright. I’ll do my best.”
Wayne made it look as if he was beginning to record the conversation on the audio recorder, which of course was already recording for records sake.
“Just, start at the beginning,” he said to her.

Friday 3 rd September, 2021 – 11:51pm:
The night out had left Kelly a little worse for wear and she found herself drunkenly stumbling back home after being kicked out of the last club that would take her. She was only vaguely aware of her lack of escort, even less aware of the lack of any eyewitnesses that would see her stalker following Kelly through the empty streets and into the alley way. She couldn’t remember what happened that night, largely due to the alcohol and later the drugs in her system. Either way, it didn’t matter. She never made it home that night.

Saturday 4 th September, 2021 – 4:00am:
Kelly awoke in a small, dark space, unable to move and unable to speak. She tried to struggle, but it was useless. She had been tied to some sort of bed, which itself was raised against a wall. After a few minutes, or maybe longer, the lights came on and she could clearly see the nightmare she had woken up to. The trailer was small, with curved corners and a curved roof. On the wall opposite to her, either the back or front she couldn’t tell, was a TV. Only a small one, but it was wall mounted and was on. A
video was playing, but it was showing nothing but a black screen with a timestamp on the bottom right corner. The rest of the wall space was something out of a horror film. Saws, drills, rope and a dozen other tools and instruments that Kelly didn’t recognize. Then, as if to confirm the nightmare she found herself in, the TV suddenly began showing Kelly strapped to the bed. And then the voice began to speak.
“Hello my dear. Welcome home.”
The voice was malicious, the tone flat and cheerful, but was entirely evil in every other way.
“You are here against your will. Make no mistake, you are here to die. Right now you are fully aware, but soon you’ll be drugged. The drugs I will give to you will affect your memory, ensuring that even if you escape you will never be able to find justice.”
The video changed and began displaying different women, all of whom were being tortured and killed, their screams turned into background music.
“See now all the things that will happen to you. The pain, the pleasure, and all the rest. Now, I am your master and your life is in my hands. Your last few days will be painful, torturous in every way. But your death is up to you. I can give you a quick death, or a slow death. Call me master and respect me as such and I promise a quick death. But any disrespect, any attempt to escape or refusal to do as I say and your death will be slow, painful and horrific. Until then, you are mine and I will do as I wish with you.”
The video ended, moments later the TV and lights were off and Kelly was once again left in total darkness.

Tuesday 7 th September, 2021 – 3:50pm:
The last few days had been horrific, just as the master had promised. Kelly, now short two fingers and her sanity, was numb to the fresh pain inflicted upon her. He had made several long visits, often bringing his friends with him. Today, he promised her death and that it would soon all be over for her. But he wasn’t alone. A woman was with him, clearly upset by the fact that he hadn’t “taken out the trash” yet. She demanded the master kill Kelly, just as he had for the many others, but he refused until he had one last thing to do to her. Kelly could hear a pair of dogs barking outside and it snapped her mind back into reality, at least enough of it to make her aware of the free hands she now had. The two people went outside to check on the dogs and Kelly made her move. She sat up, grabbed a knife from a nearby table and managed to cut herself free from the ropes that tied her
bloody legs to the table. Without thinking, she moved to the door and tried the handle. By no small measure of luck it was still open and she took the chance to flee. By the time her two would be murderers realized, it was already too late. Kelly was now running, full speed, away from them.

Saturday 11 th September, 2021 – 12:56pm:
Kelly finished recounting the events that transpired during her imprisonment. Wayne just sat there, not wanting to believe a word of the tale, but of course they had the video and the trailer to prove it all. There were no words, no way to describe just how horrific her experience had been.

Schneider and Kurosi watched from the other side of the glass, each in their own state of disbelief. They’d worked on cases like this before, but Kelly was impressive. She had remembered most of it and with such detail, her testimony alone would see the bastard behind bars in no time.
“This, Kurosi, this is the best idea you’ve had yet. But what about these others she’s talking about?”
“We’re still trying to track them down sir, well most of them. The woman she mentioned is the killers daughter. We suspect she was involved with many of the murders we suspect him of committing and even a few of her own.”
“Jesus fucking Christ Kurosi, just how fucked up is this case?”
“With all due respect sir, I doubt we’ll ever know. We have him on three murders so far, and of course the crimes against Ms. Graham here. But I believe he’s involved with over thirty murders so far. Though in reality it could be many more.”
“So enough to put him away, but not enough to get the complete picture. I want your team to go through everything. Every detail, every bit of forensic evidence. I’ll talk to prosecution about the crimes we can nail him for, but I want the rest.”
“You’ll have as many as I can get.”
“Make sure of it.”

Thursday 7 th September, 2023 – 3:40pm:
Mark was led to the interrogation room to answer more questions in regards to his many crimes. The two guards escorting him hurried the Tuesday Killer, as he was now called, to the room. But as they approached the door, he felt a sudden sharp pain go up his left arm and hit his chest where his heart should’ve been. He keeled over and one of the guards attempted to keep him alive while the other sought out medical assistance. Not five minutes later, the monster who had murdered dozens and ruined the lives of so many more was pronounced dead from a heart attack. Few cared and
those that did celebrated the end of the nightmare. His end.

Bigfoot Stories #2: The BC Journal

Day 16: We camped out by the river where we set our kayaks. Farrow insists we’re still three days from the deposit he found and that no one has yet laid claim to it. Newman disagrees and I in turn agree with Newman. The tracks we found are distinctly human, if barefoot and oversized. I am forced to admit my growing suspicions. Farrow, while reliable, seems too nervous to stray far from the camp. I fear Indians have laid their claim to this land and are willing to defend it in their own ways and that Farrow is aware of this.

Day 18: We’ve had to abandon the kayaks. Farrow insists that the gold deposit lies in land three days hike west of the river. He is acting very queer as of late. He has taken to sleeping with his rifle, loaded and prepared to fire and with barely an eye shut. I have known this man my whole life and yet rarely have I seen him act this way, even around the savage Indians of Arizona. His fear is contagious.

Day 21: Farrow was right! The gold deposit is here, untouched and unclaimed. Newman took a look at it not twenty minutes ago and determined it was of enough quality and quantity to make all three of us rich men. Tomorrow we begin building the cabin. I’ll have to send word off to Richter and his two brothers. We’ll need their strength and the extra kayaks.

Day 25: I sent Newman off two days ago. Farrow and I have been keeping busy building the cabin out of the wood around us. He’s still fearful, but has calmed down in the last few days. I doubt we can rely on him for a second expedition here should we need it.

Day 26: The night has been difficult. Strange howls have seen to keep me and Farrow up until the sun rose. After breakfast we both decided to do a bit of hunting, partly to resupply ourselves with meat and hide and partly to see if any sign could tell us what was making those awful sounds. We caught a deer, but no sign of the cause of the dreaded howls. I asked Farrow about it but he wouldn’t say a word on it.

Day 30: It’s been a week since Newman was sent off to fetch the others. They should be here in the next two days. We’ve had more of those strange howls. More human tracks as well. Two nights ago, something wandered into camp and attacked the cabin. Farrow fled in the morning and I haven’t seen him since. Last night I was again kept up by the howls. They seem to be getting closer. I’m scared.

Day 32: Newman arrived yesterday, but with news on Farrow. He never made it to the kayaks. They found him not thirty feet away, his body broken in innumerable ways. No animal known to man killed him. Still, I feel safer with four armed friends by my side. Last night was the first night without howls since the first.

Day 40: Newman is dead. They got him, those beasts. Took him in the night as they attacked the cabin. Richter took one of his brothers and found him an hour ago. I got a good look at one of them. The beast looks like a man crossed with the ape-men of Africa, whose stories I am fully aware of. We have enough gold now to cover our costs and to pay the families of the two dead. But Richter and the others want their fortune and I too am inclined to stay. I fear my curiosity will be the end of me.

Day 45: I am the last one. Richter and his brothers are dead. They’re here. These ape-men. I have barricaded myself in the cabin and am prepared to take them with me if the lord sees fit to allow me. If I survive till morning then I will rid myself of this place and return home. My darling wife, how I long for the return of your warmth. I lo…

Day 50: I… survived. Barely. The kayak has been drifting for the last few hours. I haven’t dared set foot on land since fleeing the cabin. They’re following me on land. They’re moving at such speeds it’s hard to believe they’re natural. They have a bit of the devil in them. At least they can’t swim.

Day 61: I am to return to the cabin, this time with a sizeable force of men. I reached the small town where we originally set off from and immediately told the authorities. The father of Richter and his brothers wishes to retrieve their bodies and I agreed to lead him and fourteen others to do just that. I’m sending this journal back to my wife in London, in case I don’t return.

Skinwalker Stories #24

Story 1:

I was out hiking when I saw it. There’s this little country road just outside of town where I live that leads to the next town over but I wasn’t going all the way. Instead I was heading off to a friends house (he lives on a farm that grows corn), and it would only take me about an hour to get there if I walked. So I walked. I have to admit that I decided to walk to my friends house late at night, around 9.30 and it was late September, so it was already dark outside. I didn’t really care and decided to do it anyway. I was maybe twenty minutes away from my friends house when I started hearing sounds coming from behind me. It wasn’t the sound of an approaching car or truck but it sounded like something was following me. At first I thought it might just be some stray dog and ignored it. We don’t really have any wolves or coyotes in this area so I wasn’t concerned about wild animals attacking me (we don’t have bears around here). I kept walking and whatever was behind me kept following. That’s when I heard a scream (or howl? I’m not sure) coming from behind. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. I saw it. I couldn’t make out any real details, but it was over six feet tall. The arms were long and lanky and ended with what appeared as dark claws. The head, if it were a head, had two pairs of massive antlers that I could just about make out in the moon light. It was skinny, almost unnaturally so. Whatever it was, it was growling at me. I stood there, terrified at what I was seeing. Then it started moving towards me. One step, then another. On the third step I snapped out of it and ran towards my friends house. I could hear it trying to catch up with me, but it also sounded like it was struggling to run on two legs. I managed to reach the lit road that led up to my friends house through his family farm and kept running up it. I kept banging on his door until he let me in before I realized that it wasn’t actually chasing me anymore. He let me in and asked me about what was going on. But before I could tell him we both heard the same scream from before. It was coming from outside, just far enough away that it would’ve come from the start of the road that I had just ran down. I’m not sure if that was a Skinwalker, or just a figment of my imagination or something else entirely and honestly I don’t care. I never want to see that thing ever again.

Story 2:

I know Skinwalkers are real. I’ve seen my fair share of them. But in reality I’ve only ever seen the one. When I was a boy, my grandfather told me stories of Skinwalkers, of witch doctors who would sacrifice members of their own family in order to gain power by appeasing the spirits. I’m unsure as to whether or not it’s true, I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. I saw the Skinwalker for the first time at age 10. My father took me hunting one day, since he always preferred to source his own meat and wanted to encourage me to do the same. Most of the day went about as normally as you’d expect. He was teaching me how to track deer when we started to smell something horrible. It was like something died and was rotting, but right next to us. My father told me it was probably just some animal that had unfortunately died and decided we should move on. The strangest thing is that the smell seemed to be following us. We walked for about three miles and even though we should’ve been far away from the source of the smell it was still strong. We ended up stopping near a small stream so my father could refill our water bottles (he also liked drinking stream water, saying it was often better than factory bottled spring water). Just as he was about to fill the first water bottle he stopped and looked behind us. He quickly grabbed his hunting rifle and quickly raised it. I turned around and saw what he saw right as he fired three rounds. I only saw a glimpse of it, whatever it was, before my father grabbed me and ran downstream. I was screaming as he dragged me along since I didn’t know what was going on. We eventually made out of there without encountering it ever again. A few years later (and another two times seeing it again in that same forest), my grandfather sat me down and told me that what I’d seen was in fact a Skinwalker. I’ve only seen it five more times since he told me that before I moved away from the area. I’m more curious than scared and I’m planning on a trip back home so I can try and gather evidence that it exists and isn’t just in my head.

Skinwalker Stories #23

Story 1:

I’ve known about Skinwalkers my entire life. I’m not a Native American or anything, just grew up close to a reservation. But I didn’t encounter one until several weeks after I turned 24. Me and my dad would often go out hunting deer. He never brought meat, always preferring to source his own meat rather than risk buying it from a store or farm (he also hates factory farms, due to their treatment of farm animals). So when he called me up to ask me if I wanted to go hunting with him, I thought nothing of it and agreed to go with him. We agreed to spend a day hunting in this area my dad loved to go hunting in since it would see a lot of deer.

The morning we spent hunting was unusually quiet. That area of forest usually had plenty of animals, not just deer, passing through as a lot of different natural trails met up and intersected there. It wasn’t just the wildlife. My dad was unusually quiet too, even when we were driving to that art of the forest (there was a road with a parking spot for hunters about three miles south of where we were). Normally, he wouldn’t shut up about the small farm he had (he grew carrots, potatoes and a few other crops) or about the various tractors he would fix up for many of the local farmers. But he was quiet all day. The entire thing felt off to me and I didn’t like it. I straight up asked him if he was okay and he took a while to answer. He simply told me he was okay, just preoccupied with something. It wasn’t like him at all. I was about to ask him when we heard a coyote pack go insane off in the distance. That isn’t odd in itself and the area has several prominent wolf and coyote packs whose territories all meet up here, but it certainly didn’t help the uneasy feeling that was evident. I turned back to my dad and he was as pale as porcelain. He just sat there, frozen in fear upon hearing the coyotes off in the distance. That wasn’t like him at all: we heard coyotes all the time. He kept looking all over the place, as if he were expecting something he didn’t want to see walk into view. That’s when he focused on a spot right in front of us. At first I didn’t know what he was looking at. I tried to find whatever it was but gave up. It was only when I was about to turn to him and ask when I spotted it. There was a figure hiding in the forest, just far enough away that I couldn’t make out any real details. It… it looked like a person. It wasn’t uncommon to see other hunters out in the forest, but whoever this figure was didn’t seem like a hunter. I turned to my dad and asked who that person was. He simply continued to sit there silently, staring at the person in front of us. It felt like a lifetime before we heard the coyotes again, this time a lot closer to where we were. Whoever was watching us heard the coyotes as well, but apparently took more exception to hearing them. Without any warning, it let out this loud, guttural call no human could possibly make. What it did next haunts me to this day. Without missing a beat, it got on it’s hands and feet and began moving away from us and towards the direction of the coyotes. It looked so unnatural, like it really was just a person trying to run on all fours. The last thing I saw was whatever it was begin running like a coyote at full speed. It wasn’t even five minutes later when me and my dad could hear the coyotes go insane as they tried to fight something off. Neither of us said anything as we practically ran back to the car we used to get there. My dad never went hunting in that forest after that. He passed away last year, never once talking about what we had seen that day.

Story 2:

I was on holiday when I saw my first Skinwalker. It was in 1991 and my parents took me to a camp ground in Texas that wasn’t far from an area with a known coyote problem. We were only staying there for a week, but being the young kid I was, I got bored very quickly. It only took three days before I ended up wandering away from my parents and off the campsite itself. Mind you, this was before everyone had cellphones and cameras and all that in their pocket, so if someone went missing, they really went missing. I wasn’t sure how long or how far I walked, but I remember ending up near a small patch of trees. By now I was getting hungry, so I called for my mother. I assumed, being the dumbass kid that I was, that she wasn’t all that far from where I was. I turned around but couldn’t see either of my parents anywhere. Hell, I couldn’t see much of anything, save for an old dirt road and trees. I started to get scared as I realized that there wasn’t anyone around, let alone my parents. I panicked and started running the way I thought I came but ended up tripping and falling over. I’m not ashamed to admit that I started to cry. I was only six at the time. But then I started to hear my mother call for me. I started looking around but couldn’t see her. She called my name again and I started getting confused. I couldn’t see her anywhere yet it sounded like she was right next to me. I kept looking around, getting more and more upset when I heard it. A gunshot followed by what sounded like a dog screaming. Then I heard my mother again, this time calling for help. She was begging and pleading for me to come and help her. Then another gunshot and I thought I could hear her howl in pain. Then a coyote came running from the small patch of trees, followed very quickly by a tall man. He raised a rifle and shot the coyote, killing it. He made sure it was dead before turning to me and asking if I was alright. Long story short, I fully believe that coyote was really a Skinwalker trying to lure me into the trees and that the man saved my life. He turned out to be a family friend of my Uncle who lived near there and managed to get me back to my parents safely. It’s been thirty years since that day and I’ve devoted my life to hunting down Skinwalkers. They’re rare enough that I’ve only ever encountered seventeen throughout my life, twelve of which I killed personally. But there are still more out there, waiting, watching. I’m always ready for my next encounter.

Bigfoot Stories #1

Story 1:

I work for the Bigfoot Hunting Organization which is not too dissimilar to the BFRO, but instead of being a group of pussies who think they know what they’re doing, unlike the BHO which is made up of hunters, primatologists and anthropologists. I’m a hunter and spend most of my time hunting boar down in Texas as my day job (there’s a huge population problem throughout the state) but I also lead a team of two primatologists and another hunter. We meet up once a month and go on a week long hunt at a specific location in Washington State known for its frequent Bigfoot sightings. In the three years we’ve been doing this, we have seen a number of different Bigfoot individuals multiple times, managing to grab photos and even some video. We’re still trying to gather evidence and the only thing we need now is a body or even a living specimen. Next month we’re going on a six week hunt where we hope to get just that, hopefully sooner rather than later. Wish us luck!

Story 2:

I was hiking in Florida a few years ago (2012 I think) when I had my first encounter with Bigfoot. For those of you who don’t know, Florida has a lot of marshy swamps (and the people to prove it) many of which are protected inside national parks. North to the small town I grew up in, there is a rather large swamp that connects with a few of the other swamps in the north part of the state. The swamp has a ridge running through it that is a very popular hiking trail among everyone in town. Back when I still lived in town, I would spend pretty much every Sunday hiking along that trail even if the weather was bad. The Sunday of my encounter, the weather itself was bad. This matters because it had been raining the night before and as a result there was a thick and heavy fog the morning of my hike. Now I’ll admit it wasn’t the best idea to hike through a swamp in heavy fog, but I really didn’t care at the time and went out anyway. It was around 9:30 in the morning when I made it to the top of the ridge. The fog was still pretty heavy so I couldn’t really see all that far. I was about to turn around when I heard a guttural scream come from in front of me. I’d never heard anything like it before but it shook me to my core. I started backing off slowly away from the sound when I thought I could see a figure in the fog. At first I was relieved to have another person up here with me and I was about to approach them to ask if they heard the sound. That’s when I heard it again, but this time it was coming from the figure in front of me! I again started backing off slowly when it started running towards me. I ran and kept running away until I tripped and slid down the ridge into the swamp. I quickly managed to stand and continued to run away from the figure. I managed to get to a nearby gas station where I realized I had broken my foot. A few days later after I left the hospital one of the police came up to me and said they’d found large footprints where I had my encounter. I can’t be sure if it was actually Bigfoot, but honestly who else would be out there like that? I’ve since moved to Ohio where I’ve actually had several more encounters, but maybe I’ll share them at a later date if people are interested.