Skinwalker Encounter Stories from Survivors!

AR Skinwalker Stories
He didn’t really have an explanation for what happened, just some ideas. Here’s the story.

He was a freshly graduated high school student on his way to college. During his senior year, he had worked for his grandfather as a farmhand, or more accurately, a farm manager. His grandfather would give him instructions on what needed to be done on the farm in his absence, most often feeding the cows.

It was early November, and baseball practice had just started after school. Practice lasted from 3:25 to 5:30, and by the time he arrived at work, the sun was almost down.

One day, after getting dressed and filling up the buckets, he fed the cows at the first farm. However, he soon realized that he didn’t have a key to the other farm. Frustrated, he was forced to carry two buckets at a time and walk them from the fence to the feed trough, a good 40-yard walk.

As he walked, he tried to keep his spirits up by whistling. It wasn’t any particular pattern or tune, just something he came up with on the spot. After placing the last buckets in the bed of the truck, he heard something coming from the neighboring property—it was whistling.

This struck him as strange since no one lived anywhere near that property, and the sound was very close. He rationalized that it must have been a mockingbird or something similar and went on with his life.

Over the next few days, although he didn’t whistle, the mysterious whistling continued. Slowly, it became clearer, eventually sounding like regular whistling. It grew louder too. When he first heard it, it had been very faint, almost drowned out by the crunching sound of his footsteps as he walked to his truck. Over time, he became accustomed to the whistling and even started expecting it.

Then one day, it didn’t come. He felt a little disappointed. This time, he had remembered to bring the key. As he walked up to the gate and started fiddling with his keys, he accidentally dropped them into the grass. Frustrated, he muttered a curse under his breath and squatted down to search for them.

It was then that he heard a very faint sound coming from the other property: a low groan or gurgle. The sound grew louder, and while he wasn’t scared, he couldn’t help but feel a growing curiosity about what was happening over there.

He left his truck parked across from the property and walked a few feet down the road before hopping the fence of the property where he had heard the sounds. The land beyond the fence sloped steeply uphill and was densely wooded. As he climbed, the forest grew thicker, making it more difficult to see through. Looking back, he realized that he had made a few big mistakes that could have easily gotten him hurt.

As he continued up the hill, the gurgling sound persisted, still faint but coming from somewhere far up the hill. Then a bad smell began to hit his nose, a strange mix of garbage and wet dog, or something equally unpleasant. He kept walking, nearing the top of the hill, when he heard something that made him stop in his tracks—a dry, low, and distorted voice muttering, “Damn it.”

The sound came from just a few yards in front of him, like a 60-year-old smoker struggling to speak the words slowly, as if unfamiliar with English. Initially, he thought someone might be trespassing on their property, which made him both angry and paranoid. He moved slower, careful not to make a sound that would give away his presence.

Before he could see who it was, he heard it again: “Damn it, damn, damn it.” The voice now saying the words more normally but still in a way that unsettled him. He stopped to listen, trying to decide what to do next, when he realized that the voice was perfectly mimicking his own tone and inflection, even capturing the frustration he had felt when he had cursed earlier.

Now both scared and confused, he got up and crested the hill, flicking on the flashlight on his phone. He called out, “Hey, this is private property!” but was cut off mid-sentence.

As he came over the top of the hill, the faint glow of his flashlight revealed a naked figure squatting just a few yards in front of him. The figure’s eyes reflected the light, giving them an eerie glow. Immediately, he sensed that something was terribly wrong. This wasn’t a regular person.

The figure’s neck was unusually long, and as he approached, it snapped its head around to look at him without moving its body. The eyes were too big, and the head was large and slender. The figure was squatted in an odd, almost ballerina-like pose. He noticed that the figure was extremely skinny, with ribs protruding through its skin.

There was a short silence, and then, like a robot, the figure turned slowly in the leaves and stood up with its hands by its sides. He was beginning to doubt whether this was even a human being; it was far too tall and strange. The figure then spoke, “Damn it,” in his own voice.

At that moment, he turned and sprinted down the hill. It didn’t feel like he was running, more like his legs were just going through the motions. He didn’t look back as he reached the fence, hopped over it, and jumped into his truck before speeding away.

He still worked at the farm but never told anyone the story, not even his grandfather. Since that day, he had only heard the whistling a few more times. Though he wasn’t a believer in the paranormal, he tried to find a rational explanation for the encounter, suspecting that it may have just been some strange squatter.

He once heard a story from his father that he would never forget, not just because it was the first story his father told him as a child, but also because it was about how his grandfather died. While that detail was significant, it wasn’t the primary reason the story stuck with him.

He recalled that it was hard to believe in such tales, whether about ghosts, aliens, or other strange phenomena, until something happens that makes you see things differently. It might be a personal experience or hearing similar stories from different people that gradually shifts your perspective.

Initially, he didn’t believe his father’s story, even though his father insisted it was true. It wasn’t until he started exploring the internet and came across similar stories that he began to believe. He learned about the entity his father described, which the internet called The Rake. His father, however, had never used the internet and wasn’t aware of the term. Instead, he referred to it as a skinwalker, drawing from an old Navajo tale his own grandfather had shared.

He recounted the story his father told him in the same way he heard it. They were out hunting one night, targeting coyotes for $50 a pelt. They lived on a dairy farm in Ohio and often had to hunt to make ends meet, sometimes even killing a calf. When they came across a deer, it was a welcome bonus as it could feed the family and save some money.

After finishing their rounds, they were heading home on foot since they didn’t have a car or a four-wheeler at the time. When they cut through the woods, they stumbled upon a grisly scene: blood was splattered everywhere, on the trees, in the grass, and in the creek.

At first, they assumed it was the work of a pack of coyotes, known to scavenge and hunt deer or cattle. The worst cases, he noted, were when coyotes bred with feral dogs. But this was different.

When predators like coyotes, wolves, or dogs attack, they usually do it with precision. They target a weak, sick, or small animal, corner it, and then bring it down quickly and cleanly. What they found, however, was a chaotic mess. It appeared that something had attacked a deer—a feat unlikely for coyotes or wolves, as they generally avoid such challenges due to the fight it would involve.

There were three bodies torn apart and scattered: a head here, a leg there, a torso somewhere else. Predators don’t usually leave behind such scraps; they kill for food, not for sport. Whatever had caused this destruction had done it for the sheer thrill, not out of necessity.

They didn’t know what had happened, but seeing the carnage, they felt it was something they needed to deal with. He remembered his father telling him to go home, suspecting it might be a pack of feral dogs, but he wasn’t about to leave him behind.

At just 13, with only a .22 rifle and a pocketknife, he felt ill-equipped to venture alone through two miles of woods. His father, armed with a shotgun, wasn’t going in without him. After some convincing, they began tracking whatever had caused the carnage.

Following the blood trail, they noted it seemed either the creature had bled a deer before fleeing or had dragged one for a considerable distance. The sight of his father’s fear that night was unsettling; he had never seen him scared before.

As they continued, the woods were filled with terrifying noises: deer, foxes, rabbits, raccoons, and birds, all making frantic sounds. It was around midnight, and except for foxes and some birds, nothing should have been active. Yet everything was on the move, with flocks of birds crashing into trees in their panic.

They came across a pack of coyotes, which they nearly shot, thinking they were their quarry. The coyotes, however, ran right past them, oblivious. Soon after, deer, rabbits, squirrels, foxes, and even wild hogs followed suit, fleeing in the same direction. This panic from animals usually known to hunt each other was a clear sign that whatever was causing it was far beyond their comprehension or control.

Despite the ominous signs, they pressed on. Curiosity and his father’s nature to confront danger drove them forward. Finally, they reached an open valley, usually a soybean field, but now just bare dirt.

Here they found tracks. The animals fleeing the forest had obscured most of the land, but in the area where the deer blood was, no tracks had been made, as if the creature had deliberately left it for them to find. The tracks were shallow, indicating it couldn’t have weighed more than 100 lbs. Still, the weight didn’t mean much—a bobcat that light had nearly killed him once, proving small creatures could be dangerously swift and elusive.

They followed the tracks until they arrived at an old schoolhouse at the top of a hill, torn apart by a tornado. It had been uninhabited for a long time, though they occasionally found homeless people or drug users seeking refuge.

Initially, they thought it might just be a disturbed individual, but as they got closer, within 50 yards of the building, they heard a disturbing sound: a screeching noise made up of both a high-pitched screech and a low-pitched growl simultaneously.

As they neared, the sound became more unsettling, resembling paper being torn apart while someone swung water back and forth. His father then signaled him to stay behind, whispering that they were about to corner whatever was making the noise.

They knew that any animal, particularly a predator, would fight when cornered, but the tracks suggested it was a single creature. His father guessed it was probably a feral dog, possibly rabid.

The plan was straightforward: sneak up on the creature while it was eating, shoot it, and keep shooting until it stopped moving. If necessary, slit its throat. If it attacked his father, he was to shoot or stab it to save him.

As they approached, his father led the way, and he stayed close behind just to the side so he could see what was going on. To this day, he wishes he hadn’t seen what lay before them.

The creature was hunched over a carcass, tearing off flesh and discarding what it didn’t consume. The blood was glistening in the moonlight on the brick of the old schoolhouse. The creature was pale and humanlike, but distinctly not human. It had human arms and legs but sat like a monkey. Its hands were abnormal, with long fingers ending in claws.

When his father saw it, he hesitated, unsure about firing on a person. He cleared his throat to try and make the creature turn around. At that moment, all sounds ceased, creating an eerie silence.

When the creature turned around, it let out a shrill cry and lunged at his father. His father managed to get a shot off, but it seemed to miss or have no effect. The creature was on him, tearing him apart. Panicked, he began shooting with the .22 rifle at close range, but the bullets barely seemed to penetrate.

He managed to get off five rounds before resorting to hitting the creature with the butt of the gun. It didn’t seem to register his presence. Continuing its assault on his father, the creature clawed at him, removing chunks of flesh from his torso, throat, nose, eyes, and even scalping him.

It then started tearing into the lower half of his jaw, the bones in his neck, and his ribs. In the chaos, his father’s knife ended up in the creature’s shoulder, and his father ended up on his back. He fled, running faster than he had ever run before, knowing the creature was following him.

He made it to the woods on the opposite side, heading toward his landlord’s house half a mile away. As he ran, he could hear the creature’s screeches and the sounds of trees being violently torn apart.

Finally, he stumbled onto gravel and saw his landlord and his friends around a campfire. He screamed and cried, urging them to call an ambulance. His landlord, noticing something strange, saw one of his father’s flannel shirts—a remnant of his father, who was missing most of his body except for his head and torso.

They threw him inside the house. His father’s remains were left outside. He fought desperately, crying, believing they could still save him, but his father was already gone. His landlord and friends quickly locked the doors and prepared their weapons.

All the lights in the house were turned on, and someone called the police, who said they would arrive in 15 minutes. As they looked outside, they saw the creature walk past the fire. One of the friends remarked that it looked like an ape.

Suddenly, something crashed through the window. They fired at it, but it turned out to be the landlord’s dog—just its body, missing its head and legs. They quickly began barricading the doors and windows.

When they heard a commotion in the garage, one of the friends pointed out that the garage doors were open. They could hear metal and glass being ripped apart, so they shoved a couch and a TV against the garage door. The banging continued for a while but eventually quieted down.

Though not to the same eerie silence as before, they could still hear movement. Someone handed him a pistol, and just as he cocked it, they heard a shatter upstairs. The creature’s screeching was now louder and didn’t fade out—it was inside with them.

They rushed to the only door leading upstairs and got there just as the creature did. The door opened slightly, and four or five men slammed into it. The creature managed to get its hands through, and someone with a shotgun fired at its wrist, severing it. This only seemed to enrage the creature further.

It pushed against the door and clawed at it while they pushed back from the other side. The door wasn’t going to hold. Someone shouted for everyone to keep their heads down, and suddenly, the top half of the door was gone. Splinters flew everywhere.

After that, the creature’s whereabouts became uncertain. The police arrived shortly afterward. He remained by what was left of the door until dawn. They took him to the hospital, where he was examined and questioned by many people, but he didn’t speak for a long time.

When he returned home, he took a job working on the farm for the landlord. They rarely spoke about that night. When he was 19 and preparing to leave for the Army, his landlord gave him a send-off with a glass of scotch. He asked about the police report and was told that the official story was that a wild animal, perhaps a bear or a wolf, had migrated north.

When he pressed about the hand they had found, his landlord was stunned. The hand had never made it back to the station—the officer transporting it had died in a car accident, crashing into a tree. The hand was never recovered and was likely taken by an animal. The police, when they acknowledged the hand at all, insisted it was just a bear paw that looked like a human hand.

He never spoke to the landlord again. The man had vanished while he was in basic training, and the authorities claimed he had run off to escape some debts, but he doubted that explanation. He never returned to those woods. Years later, after his mother passed away, he believed his father might have gone back into the woods to settle old scores, but he never returned. The FBI was involved, but their investigation seemed more for show than genuine search efforts. They never found anything.

The summer of 2013 was a turning point when he decided to hunt coyotes for their fur. Equipped with a basic AR-15, which he had modified with a sling point to carry comfortably, he headed up to a cabin on the mountain with his ATV.

Once there, he started checking his bait—squirrel and rabbit guts—only to find it all gone. An uneasy feeling crept over him. He noticed a stick-figure shape at a distance but dismissed it as just a trick of the light and went back to the cabin.

While relaxing on the porch with the lights off, he began hearing distant coyote yelps that gradually morphed into what sounded like a human voice pleading for help. Initially, he thought a neighbor might be in trouble, so he took his ATV and rifle and ventured into the woods to investigate.

As he approached a U-shaped dip in the trail, he heard the scream, “Help me!” right in front of him. Panicked, he tried to turn, and in his haste, he flipped the ATV and blacked out briefly.

When he came to, he found himself pinned under the ATV with his left leg trapped. He managed to drag his rifle to him despite a bleeding arm and a damaged gun. As he lay there, he heard shuffling sounds in the grass and a chilling silence. The fear was palpable.

He saw something appear over the ATV, a presence akin to a bartender glancing at a fallen patron. The situation felt dire. The predator or entity seemed to be assessing him, and the reality of his predicament sank in.

The creature he encountered that night was unlike anything he’d ever seen—standing about 9 ft tall, it had a frozen, unnervingly still presence. He reached for his AR-15, holding it at the ready but unable to muster the courage to look directly at it.

The fear was overwhelming. The thing’s voice echoed in the silence, pleading for help as it climbed over the ATV. When it grabbed his face, he felt his mind go blank. The creature was face to face with him, its appearance hauntingly similar to the ghoulish descriptions often given of such beings—a grotesque, emaciated figure with sunken cheeks and deep, unsettling eyes.

The stench of its breath was unbearable. In a desperate effort, he fumbled with the trigger of his rifle, managing to start firing as the creature slammed his head into the ground. The gun was eventually wrenched from his hands and used as a weapon against him. The creature’s scream blended with his own as it beat him mercilessly.

Just when it seemed like he was on the brink of losing consciousness, the sounds of approaching lights and voices pierced the chaos. He saw what looked like the creature’s head explode, and with a final primal scream, he fled. The light grew closer, and he was tugged to safety by his neighbor, who had arrived with a powerful revolver.

In the hospital, with stitches on his head and the trauma of the night still fresh, he asked his neighbor about what happened. The neighbor’s response—a simple mention of a bear—left him unsettled and unconvinced. The truth of that night, buried beneath the official explanation, lingered with him as a haunting reminder of the encounter.

As night fell, the group’s sense of unease grew. The remaining Rottweiler, clearly disturbed, began growling aggressively.

The foul odor returned, even more pungent and offensive than before. The smell was overpowering—a mix of decaying meat and something else, almost like spoiled milk.

Everyone grew quiet, listening to the sounds of the forest around them. The unsettling smell and the dog’s reaction were enough to keep them on edge. The Rottweiler’s growls intensified, and the group began to hear faint eerie noises—whispers, or perhaps distant giggling, mixed with the occasional screech.

It was a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Trying to maintain their composure, they decided to keep the fire burning brightly and remained vigilant.

The two who had seen the strange behavior earlier were still visibly shaken, recounting the events with increasing urgency. They couldn’t shake the image of their friend running away, nor could they forget the sound of the dog yelping in terror.

As the night progressed, the smell became almost unbearable, and the strange sounds continued. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, made their hearts race. They tried calling out to the missing person and the dog, but their voices seemed swallowed by the oppressive darkness.

The group huddled closer around the fire, their weapons ready, but no one wanted to venture out into the woods. The unsettling feeling grew as the night deepened, with no sign of the missing dog or the person who had disappeared.

Eventually, exhausted and on edge, they decided to take shifts keeping watch while the others tried to get some rest. Despite their efforts, none of them slept well, and every creak and groan of the forest kept them on high alert.

The night dragged on, and the weird, unsettling feeling of being watched or followed never quite left them. When dawn finally broke, they were relieved to see the light but still deeply troubled by the events of the night before.

They packed up quickly and left the campsite, hoping to put the disturbing experience behind them. As the night wore on, the atmosphere around the camp grew increasingly tense. The smell from before had returned, and the unsettling noises from the woods resumed, amplifying the group’s anxiety.

Greg, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, fired three rounds into the forest. The screech that followed was deafening, and the pungent odor quickly dissipated, but the group remained on edge.

they took turns keeping watch with you and Victor on the first shift for a while the night was eerily quiet but this brief respit was shattered when you awoke to the unsettling smell and Greg’s frantic yelling

Greg was out near the edge of the woods with a spotlight searching for Tom who had gone missing during the previous watch Greg explained that Tom had followed the dog into the woods after it had bolted and then he had lost both the dog and Tom

determined to find Tom the group rallied together each person armed and carrying a flashlight or Spotlight as they ventured into the woods the smell grew stronger nearly overpowering and the nausea among the group became palpable

they followed Tom’s tracks but soon lost them when they abruptly stopped leaving no trace of where he might have gone

the search Led them to a startling Discovery one of the guys at the back of the group spotted Tom standing 20 ft away Tom’s presence was disconcerting he was standing unnaturally still his posture odd and unsettling

when questioned Tom responded with a slow emotionless nod but his demeanor was disturbing back at the camp Tom refused to rest so they let him stay by the fire while the rest of the group tried to get some sleep

Greg Vic and you decided to stay up and keep an eye on him Tom’s Behavior grew more erratic as the night progressed he exhibited strange muscle spasms and seemed detached from reality his responses were slow and he appeared fixated on the woods

when offered food Tom ate only the meat from the M which was odd but not immediately alarming however his subsequent request to gather firewood from the woods with him raised more concern

his movements were jerky and unnatural and his insistence on going into the woods further unsettled the group

at this point the decision was made to keep a close watch on Tom but his increasing Oddity and the persistent sense of danger from the forest made everyone uneasy besides the fact that it was it sounds like a harrowing experience marked by an overwhelming sense of dread and the constant feeling of being watched

the intensity of the situation Tom’s odd behavior the strange smells the unsettling noises and the Eerie encounters seems to have left a profound impact on everyone involved

after Tom’s unsettling behavior and his Eerie call for help from the woods the group became increasingly alarmed the discovery that someone had been inside the tent unbeknownst to them heightened Their Fear and urgency

with the gibbering and giggling intensifying and Tom’s distorted voice calling from the woods the decision to stay vigilant around the fire and lanterns until dawn seemed prudent

when daylight finally arrived the group’s haste to leave was compounded by the damage to their vehicles scratched and smashed Windows shredded seats which only added to the knight’s Terror

the sight of Tom at the edge of the woods with a creepy grin as they drove away must have been the final chilling detail of an already nightmarish ordeal

the decision to avoid remote camping trips in the future and to be cautious about the number of people in the group reflects a deep respect for the unsettling and inexplicable experience you all went through

the encounter seems to have been a profound introduction to the realm of the unknown perhaps even to the concept of Skin Walkers and it has clearly left a lasting impression on you

Story five

as you head out for this delivery you drive deeper into the countryside leaving behind the familiar lights and sounds of the town the further you go the more isolated and quiet it gets

eventually you turn onto a side street leading into the woods the Trees close in around you and the Darkness feels even thicker

you arrive at the address a small weathered house surrounded by dense Woods the area is eerily silent and there’s no sign of life except for the dim light flickering through a single window

as you approach the door you notice a strange smell lingering in the air a mix of something sour and metallic

you knock on the door and after a moment it creaks open slightly no one greets you but the door seems to be held a jar as if someone expected you

you call out pizza delivery but there’s no response the door slowly opens wider on its own revealing a dimly lit interior with shadows flickering against the walls

feeling uneasy but determined to complete the delivery you step inside holding the pizza carefully the inside of the house is cluttered with old furniture and various items scattered around

you call out again but there’s still no answer the smell grows stronger and you notice that the room is unnaturally cold

as you place the pizza on a table near the door you hear a noise coming from the back of the house a low gurgling sound almost like someone is trying to speak but can’t quite form words

you turn to look in the direction of the sound but the darkness makes it hard to see clearly

suddenly you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching you from behind

you quickly turn around heart pounding but there’s no one there the atmosphere feels oppressive and the strange smell intensifies

you decide it’s best to get out of there quickly grabbing the pizza and heading back to your car

as you drive away you can’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong the house seemed too quiet and the smell and sounds you encountered left you feeling unsettled

you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever have to deliver to that address again and if so what you’ll find next time

as I approached the edge of our delivery range I cranked up some dubstep and revved my turbocharged Subaru heading into the dark wintry Woods rural winter landscapes can be eerily silent just you in the complete absence of sound except for the occasional rustle of something larger than a cat

eventually I reached the address the street had a few houses each spread out over several Acres I was looking for number 1,13 4 but after passing 1,130 and a long stretch of nothing the next number was 1,144

frustrated I tried calling the customer again the phone rang and rang until it was picked up but all I heard was a buzzing or humming sound that grew louder which made me hang up to avoid damaging my car speakers

at this point the windows of my car were fogging up I pulled over between two houses and roll down the windows only to be hit by a nauseating stench of decaying trash akin to driving through Newark New Jersey

trying to escape the smell I put the car in first gear and drove toward the next house there I saw a light at top of stanion at the end of the driveway

I intended to pull in and ask if they’d given me the wrong number as I neared someone emerged from the shadows and into the light

relieved it was the customer I stopped about 10 ft feet away the man who looked like he was wearing an oversized black coat seemed calm despite the unsettling situation

I grabbed the pizza and stepped out of the car preparing to handle the transaction I greeted him with an apology for the delay but he didn’t respond

realizing the red flags I paid closer attention the smell was overpowering and it was clear that it wasn’t trash day

the man standing under the light was enormous Barefoot with ripped jeans and stained everywhere his eyes were sunken and almost seemed like dark voids making me feel increasingly uneasy

he hadn’t moved or said a word and his head bobbed unnaturally from side to side adding to the unsettling atmosphere

the man’s head was moving in a jerky irregular pattern like a car door that stops halfway before you push it open completely for about 10 seconds he swayed his head back and forth without any discernible Rhythm

the bizarre movement combined with the overpowering stench and his unsettling eyes made me increasingly uncomfortable Frozen in place I watched him unable to break eye contact

I took out my phone holding it up to my line of sight so I could see both him and the screen curiosity got the better of me and I decided to Redial his number

the phone started ringing but I couldn’t hear it from the car however I could hear a faint distant ring coming from the woods about 50 yards away

my heart raced as I realized the sound was coming from the forest and I felt a surge of panic

the man continued his head bobbing and to my horror I thought I saw him smiling

summoning my courage I said uh can you please come get this also I think you might have dropped your phone or something when you were hiding a body or whatever in the woods

I forced a nervous laugh trying to convince myself he was just on something his mouth opened slowly and he made a series of guttural grunts almost like someone CLE clearing their throat

the Eerie sounds were unsettling and just as I was about to Redial the number he finally spoke

that phone’s not mine

the delay between phone’s not and mine was unnervingly long making phone’s notot sound like one word and mine come out higher pitched

my anxiety skyrocketed my knees felt weak and I was on the verge of collapsing

I pushed the pizza to the far side of the car roof summoning my courage to say Sir you’re freaking me out I’ve got A45 and less than $20 on me just take this so I can leave

as I spoke his head bobbing stopped and he fixed his dark piercing eyes on me he opened his mouth again and the words came out distorted

it what

the man started moving toward my car but not with regular steps more like a single jerky lunge

he repeated the phone was his my my fear reached a Breaking Point as he got closer

I yelled I’m going to call the cops if you don’t get away from here

he smiled that disturbing smile and without moving his mouth I heard a different voice say go away stop following me

in another jarring motion the man reached up grabbed the pizza and placed a few quarters on the roof surrounded by a dark liquid that spread across the surface

I didn’t think twice I jumped into the car and sped away leaving behind the pizza box and everything else

I drove as fast as I could not even bothering to close the door properly

after speeding down the road for about a quarter of a mile I made a u-turn to avoid getting further lost

I raced back past the spot where I had just been and the man was gone

reaching the end of the road I slowed at the stop sign to merge with the main road as I looked right to check for traffic I glanced left and saw the man’s face just inches from my own

turn I tactically have a heart attack and peel off down the road

I finally when I finally got back to the pizza place I was shaking uncontrollably

I needed to calm down so I lit up a cigarette which is something I never do while working

I walked in the front door and was greeted with a chilling surprise hey that guy from The Open Space house just called back the counter girl said he said you forgot some food

but he only ordered the pizza right he wants you to come back

as she spoke I broke down tears streaming down my face

I checked my phone which had been thrown around in the car during my Panic drive there were 14 missed calls from the same number and all but one voicemail were empty

the last message was a horrifying mix of ragged breathing and those same disturbing grunts I’d heard earlier

I sat at the counter sobbing uncontrollably

after about 10 minutes I remembered the change the guy had left on my car roof I went outside turned on a flashlight and found the roof covered in a thick viscous fluid that smelled like copper

I nearly threw up when I inspected the panel gap between the trunk and rear window I found the quarters coated in that same disgusting goop

there was also a small chunk of tissue stuck in the mess

horrified I noticed a streak of the fluid running from the front quarter panel to the driver’s side door

it dawned on me that the man must have tried to open my door when he was so close at the stop sign

I went back inside crying even harder and asked the counter girl to call the number again she tried repeatedly but it went straight to voicemail

the next morning I gave the number to my uncle who was a police captain a few Towns over he informed me that the number was a burner phone paid for in cash making it essentially untraceable

it was also turned off now

I haven’t been able to shake the fear I sleep with the lights on and the door locked haunted by the memory of that night

these Story 6

when I was 23 I went stalking in the Ozarks of Arkansas I’d been saving up for months to get new Gear boots a tactical vest and a military-grade gas mask

it felt like Christmas gearing up with personal prototypes and testing them out in the field I had a nugget on hand for defense which might not handle big bears but would definitely deter snakes stray dogs or cougars

I’d also brought some strippers and two clipp aines I’d built myself and I was ready to put them through their Paces

my kit included rolled up targets a light load of survival gear Compass topographical map thermal blanket extra underwear MREs canteen and Camelback I was prepped for any situation

I was enjoying my time experimenting with the field of view in my mask testing the reliability of the clipp aines and generally having fun

I wandered near a creek bed and decided it was a good time to practice my gorilla tactics it was late summer early fall so there was no real risk of getting my gear wet from the non-existent stream

my gear was more at risk from my own sweat after triple checking my safety I did a series of slides and Uphill hustles in full survival gear quickly getting winded

panting in the dry stream bed I checked my position with my topographical map and Compass to plot my route home

in the middle of reorienting myself I noticed a smell at first I thought it was my own sweat but it quickly turned into something far worse

an underlying stench of Decay mixed with animal musk raw garbage and something like skunk and onion sludge

I went into full alert mode popped an adderal from my pouch for extra Focus and pulled the clipazine from my nugget I wanted to ensure it wouldn’t Jam if I needed to use it but the smell was so overpowering I almost vomited

the source of the smell was definitely mobile and closing in on me I decided to put on my mask which helped a bit but it wasn’t completely airtight so some of the stench still seeped through

I cautiously followed the creek bed toward the shallowest slope listening for any sounds from above

I heard something moving up there larger than what my nugget could handle it was a constant snuffling grunting and clumsy crunching of bark and leaves mixed with that unbearable smell

my mind immediately jumped to the idea of a big bear and not just any big bear but something truly enormous

according to my dad who’s lived in the Ozarks for 58 years the native black bears were nearly hunted to Extinction in the 40s and 50s

to counter this the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission released 250 bear Bears into the Ozarks and Washburn mountains

their website claims they were all black bears but my dad insists that’s not true

he believes that some of the Bears released were brown bears which inbred with the remaining local black bears and the reintroduced blacks

this hybridization led to offspring that were bigger meaner and more fertile than their parents

when I asked him for proof he pulled out a manila folder labeled BB and showed me a few Polaroids confirming his stories

I saw a mass massive black and brown creature rooting around a clothesline my dad pointed out the clothesline to me about 50 ft away and 5 to 6 feet off the ground it was the same clothline shown in the photos he’d shown me

the creature’s shoulder was just below the line even though it was further in the background

I glanced through the other pictures one showed the creature rumaging through trash another barely concealed by trees

the details were shaky but I was convinced

my dad had told me two important things about avoiding attacks from these big bears

first he said they’re dumb which makes them more dangerous because they’re not afraid of you this also means they smell terrible so you’ll notice them coming from a distance

if you catch a whiff of a big bear get inside go upstairs and take a 12 gauge with deer slugs

if you can’t get home or don’t have a shotgun hide up a tree as running is useless they’re faster than you

after 23 years I finally found something that proved my dad was only half right there’s something in the Ozarks that fits the description of his big bears but it’s definitely not a bear

back to my story I would have waited in the creek bed for the creature to leave on its own but the light was already fading

I didn’t want to be stuck with a rabid creature after dark so I decided to climb up the opposite side of the creek bed it was a tough scramble over rocks but I figured it would be an extra layer of protection

I caught a few glimpses of the creature over my shoulder but this was the first time I got a good look at it I couldn’t stop staring

it wasn’t a bear though it was Bear likee my sci-fi brain immediately jumped to solidor but it wasn’t exactly that

it was like a bizarre hybrid of a solidor a grizzly bear and a sloth it had a long trunk-like snout big angular shoulders and feet that looked like manhole covers all covered in dirty matted fur

its body was like a furry blimp I watched it for 2 and 1/2 minutes trying to make sense of it and somehow it didn’t notice me

then of course I farted

the creature stopped dead my breath stopped my heart stopped the only sound in those woods was my fart echoing and the creature’s pungent odor assaulting my nose

in slow motion the thing turned its head sniffed the air and stood up what I’d thought were its shoulder blades were actually its elbows it was so flexible it could tie its shoes without bending its legs

though its huge Paws looked like they could crush anything it sniffed the air again and made a noise that sounded like gorp

there I was the idiot who didn’t listen to his dad now standing frozen while the creature let out a guttural gorp

I aimed at it Center Mass and fired it didn’t make a sound when I shot but hey if I was going to die at least I could give my killer a stupid name in my head

the shot missed sending a puff of dirt and hair up as the creature flinched from the impact despite my hope for some blood it didn’t seem to be affected

the Beast showing its natural body armor with its flee ridden fur roared in a low growl that felt like a punch to my gut

I worked the bolt and fired another shot aiming directly at its grotesque sloth be elephant face

this time the bullet ricocheted off its skull sending dirt flying to the side

it stood there seemingly too dumb to to realize it could have easily overpowered me

I fired a third shot in a random Direction hoping to scare it off

the creature dropped to all fours and lurched towards me but I managed to shuffle away

this tactic worked I stood there until the sky changed colors then made a tactical Retreat back home

when I told my dad about the encounter he didn’t believe me once he heard about the big bears he got angry locked the doors and camped out upstairs for the rest of the visit

I had to bring him beer from downstairs while he hid

despite his fear I wasn’t scared I was more fascinated and curious about what I’d seen

if I’d been scared I would have bolted but thanks to the Adderall I’d taken I stayed focused

that Curiosity kept me safe even if it meant I might have ended up as part of a gorp turd

and that’s how I met a gorp and lived to tell the tale