Episode 2 - Skinwalkers

Skinwalkers

The Skinwalkers, or yee naaldlooshii (Navajo for Skin-Walker), are a mysterious and feared presence in Native American folklore, specifically among the Navajo tribe. They are humans who possess the ability to transform into animals, most commonly wolves, coyotes, or other creatures. The origin of these shape-shifting beings can be traced back to ancient tribal legends and stories passed down through generations, serving as cautionary tales and reminders of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

According to legend, Skinwalkers are born from dark magic and supernatural powers, often acquired by committing heinous acts such as murder or betraying one's tribe. Once a person becomes a Skinwalker, they must follow a strict set of rituals and rules to maintain their power. These rituals often involve wearing the skin of the animal they wish to transform into, as well as performing various incantations and spells. Some stories even suggest that Skinwalkers must consume the flesh of the animal they transform into, further cementing their connection to the creature's spirit.

The transformation process is said to be painful and traumatic, with the Skinwalker's body contorting and twisting as they take on the form of their chosen animal. Once transformed, they are granted incredible strength, speed, and agility, along with heightened senses and the ability to communicate with other animals. However, this power comes at a great cost, as Skinwalkers are often plagued by insatiable hunger and a deep, almost animalistic rage that drives them to commit acts of violence and terror.

Skinwalkers are considered evil witches in Native American mythology, capable of causing great harm to those who cross their path. They possess the power to read minds, control other animals, and kill with a single touch. Some stories even suggest that Skinwalkers are capable of stealing the faces of their victims, making them almost impossible to detect. This ability to mimic human voices and appearances makes it difficult for their victims to identify them, allowing Skinwalkers to move undetected among the unsuspecting population.

There are ways to protect oneself from Skinwalkers, however. One popular method is the use of sacred herbs and plants, such as sage, cedar, and sweetgrass, which are believed to have protective properties. These plants are often burned during rituals or hung in doorways and windows to ward off evil spirits and keep Skinwalkers at bay. Another method is to avoid looking directly into the eyes of a suspected Skinwalker, as it is said that they can hypnotize their victims with their gaze, rendering them helpless and vulnerable to attack.

In addition to their supernatural abilities, Skinwalkers are also known for their cunning and devious nature. They are said to be master manipulators, capable of using their powers of illusion and deception to lure unsuspecting victims into their traps. Some stories even suggest that Skinwalkers can possess the bodies of their victims, controlling their actions and thoughts from within.

One of the most famous Skinwalker legends involves a young Navajo boy who stumbled upon a group of Skinwalkers performing a sinister ritual deep in the forest. The boy was able to escape the clutches of the Skinwalkers, but not before they cursed him with the ability to transform into a wolf at will. From that day forward, the boy was forced to live a life of isolation and fear, constantly struggling to control his newfound powers and keep them hidden from the rest of his tribe.

Another popular tale tells the story of a powerful Skinwalker who terrorized a small Navajo village for years, killing and devouring its inhabitants one by one. The villagers, desperate for a solution, turned to a wise medicine man who was said to possess the power to defeat the Skinwalker. After many months of preparation and ritual, the medicine man was finally able to confront the Skinwalker in a fierce battle that lasted for days. In the end, the medicine man emerged victorious, banishing the Skinwalker from the village and restoring peace to the land.

Despite their fearsome reputation, Skinwalkers are also sometimes portrayed as misunderstood creatures, driven to their dark path by personal tragedy or a desire for revenge. In some stories, Skinwalkers are shown to have a complex inner life, struggling with their own monstrous nature and the terrible acts they are forced to commit. The story of the Skinwalkers is a rich and complex tale from Native American folklore, filled with intrigue, horror, and mystery. While the existence of these shape-shifting creatures remains a matter of debate, their legend continues to captivate the imaginations of those who hear their stories and serves as a powerful reminder of the enduring power of myth and legend.

Credit for the story From Redditor /u/Neptune420:

I was sitting beside my father in our pickup truck, the only employee of his small delivery service. Our destination was Window Rock, Arizona, on the Navajo reservation, where we were tasked with delivering a package. My father's Navajo friend, Travis, and his girlfriend accompanied us on this trip, as Travis had family in Window Rock he hadn't seen in years.

We spent an uneventful day in Window Rock, taking in the sights, including the impressive rock formation that gave the town its name. As we began our journey back home, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. My father and I led the way, with Travis and his girlfriend following closely behind in their truck. As we drove along the old highway, a recent rain had left the road slick and treacherous, forcing us to slow our pace. On one side of the road, towering sandstone cliffs loomed, while on the other, a vast field stretched out, separated from the road by a small barbed wire fence.

As we neared the top of a hill, our headlights illuminated a massive creature sitting in the middle of the road, its back to the cliffs. At first, we thought it was a large dog, but as we approached, it became clear that this was no ordinary animal. My father radioed Travis, "Hey, do you see that big dog?" Travis's panicked voice crackled through the speakers, "That's not a dog! Speed up and hit it now!" His voice was filled with terror, and he continued to plead, "Hit it! Please! Hit that f*cking thing right now!"

My father accelerated, and as we drew closer, the creature's true form came into focus. It was covered in wiry, matted fur, stained with what appeared to be dried blood. Its face was a grotesque, twisted mix of human and animal features, as if it were in constant pain. Despite its size, the creature remained eerily still, facing the cliffs. As our headlights finally reached it, the creature slowly turned its head, locking eyes with us. Its face was a monstrous blend of bear and human features, a grotesque visage that seemed to embody pure malevolence. The creature was enormous, its shoulders nearly reaching the hood of our truck as it continued to sit on its haunches.

We were mere inches away from colliding with the creature when it let out a blood-curdling scream, a sound like someone drowning, and launched itself backward, landing on the other side of the barbed wire fence. With another powerful leap, it vanished from sight. Travis's voice came over the radio once more, "Holy sh*t! Keep driving! We have to get out of here! We have to go faster!" His terror was contagious, and we sped down the highway, desperate to escape whatever it was we had encountered.

As we neared the outskirts of Gallup, a police officer pulled us over. Travis, in his panic, pulled over as well, causing the Navajo officer to become increasingly alarmed. He demanded to know why Travis had felt the need to stop with us, and Travis replied, "We just saw a skinwalker a few miles back, and it's been following us!" The officer's face went ashen, and he muttered something about a verbal warning before quickly getting back in his car and speeding away. We arrived home shaken and afraid, and Travis insisted that we take a Navajo totem with us to ward off the skinwalker. The encounter with the creature, which Travis called a "skinwalker," was a chilling reminder of the powerful beliefs and legends that permeate Navajo culture. The fear and urgency in Travis's voice and the reaction of the Navajo police officer underscored the danger that such beings were believed to pose.

Credit for the story From Reddit r/nosleep

I've always been a skeptic. Ghosts, aliens, monsters – they were all just stories to me. But after what I experienced in the Southwest, my perspective on the unknown has been forever altered.

I was on a road trip with my best friend, Jake. We had decided to take a detour through the Navajo reservation in Arizona, mainly because of the scenic beauty and the rich history of the area. We had heard tales of skinwalkers, but we laughed them off. They were just myths, right? Our first day on the reservation was uneventful. We visited a few local spots, interacted with some of the locals, and set up camp near a canyon. As night fell, we sat around our campfire, sharing stories and enjoying the serenity of the desert. Around midnight, Jake decided to turn in. I stayed up, mesmerized by the stars. The Milky Way stretched across the sky, and I felt a profound sense of peace. That is, until I heard it.

A low, guttural growl echoed through the canyon. I froze, thinking it might be a coyote or a mountain lion. But then, I heard a voice. It was distorted, as if someone was speaking through a broken radio, but it was unmistakably Jake's voice. "Come here," it beckoned. I turned to our tent. Jake was sound asleep. The voice called out again, this time from the opposite direction. I grabbed a flashlight and shone it towards the source. What I saw will haunt me forever.

Standing on a ridge was a figure. It looked like a man, but its limbs were elongated, and its eyes glowed a sickly yellow. It wore tattered clothing, and its skin was a mottled gray. But the most disturbing part was its face. It was Jake's face. I stumbled back, my heart racing. The creature mimicked Jake's voice again, "Come here." It took a step towards me, its movements jerky and unnatural. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on my arm. Looking down, I saw a deep scratch, blood oozing out. The creature had marked me. I bolted to the tent, shaking Jake awake. "We need to go. NOW!" I hissed.

As we sped away in our car, I glanced in the rearview mirror. The creature stood in the middle of the road, watching us, its yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. We didn't stop driving until we reached the nearest town. We checked into a motel, and I spent the night researching skinwalkers. The legends said they were witches who could take the form of animals or people, using their voices to lure victims.

The next few nights were restless. I'd wake up to that same distorted voice calling my name, and the scratch on my arm seemed to burn and throb. It was clear that the creature had not only marked me but was now haunting my every move. Jake and I decided to consult a local Navajo elder. He told us that by interacting with the skinwalker, I had inadvertently invited it into my life. The only way to rid myself of its torment was to confront it and perform a purification ritual. With heavy hearts, we returned to the reservation. The confrontation with the skinwalker was terrifying, but with the elder's guidance, we managed to complete the ritual.

The haunting ceased, but the scars, both physical and emotional, remain. The Southwest is beautiful, but it holds secrets that are beyond comprehension. And I'll never set foot on the Navajo reservation again. To all of you reading this, please, be careful when you venture into unknown territories. Some legends are rooted in truth, and some nightmares are very, very real.

Credit for the story from cvltnation.com

I was spending a month with my cousins at my grandma’s house. It was August and my cousin’s ages ranged from ten to fifteen, and I was the oldest (being fifteen). I was staying with a ten, thirteen, and fourteen year old. We stayed up telling scary stories often, but one night a few weeks in, we decided to make a campfire out back. My grandma’s house is in a rural suburb, the neighbors aren’t too far when you’re driving down the road to her house, but in the backyard, it’s thick forest with manmade paths through it. Each house is on a hill so only part of the basement was actually underground. That isn’t important until later though. So, we’re towards the east side of her yard, in a smallish patch of open land. You couldn’t see the neighboring yards from there, and there was probably three quarters a mile to each side of us that belonged to my grandma.

It was maybe eleven at night, and we were playing truth or dare after telling scary stories, and my fourteen year old cousin dared me and the thirteen year old to go walkthrough the paths for ten minutes or so. I said yes right away, as I wasn’t easily scared and rather level headed, but my younger cousin was a bit more hesitant. We didn’t bring a flashlight because it wasn’t pitch dark yet, and we could see enough to not die. We were walking through the paths for about five minutes and could barely see the fire through the trees when we decided to turn. In the middle of the path, was a large dog-like creature, hunched over with its front hands an inch from the ground.

What I remember most was how its eyes were so fucking bright white, and it was humanoid-dog shaped with a human like head but a dog like body but human hands and feet. It looked right at us and I knew I was paralyzed with fear as it dashed away the opposite way from us, towards a creek that ran through the yard. Eventually my cousin and I screamed bloody effin murder and the other cousins and my grandma ran to us. I don’t remember much here because I was really disoriented and I couldn't think properly, but I did wake up in bed, so I assume that I was brought up to the house. All the kids slept in the basement, in a big room with sliding glass doors to the outside, as the room was on the side that wasn’t underground. My bed was pressed against a big glass window, and I could see my cousins playing outside down below. The house is in Michigan so it gets slightly chilly even at the end of August, and there was a slight breeze so I put on a jacket and ran to join them outside, skipping breakfast, not wanting to miss out on anything fun.

When I got down I could tell they weren’t playing but rather running to get my grandma. Her dogs–both of them–were dead, ripped up. That night we went to bed early. I woke up at maybe two in the morning because I felt something hit my head. My cousins were all sitting on the double bed opposite me on the other side of the room. There was one bunk bed and two double beds, the double beds for me and my fourteen year old cousin. They were being quiet and staring at me. The thirteen year old nodded his head toward the window. I froze. They all looked afraid. I turned my head slightly to the side and I saw a really messed up looking face pressed to the window with gaping eyes looking down at me. I screamed so fucking loud, and it bolted. My grandma called the police after I told her what happened and they found nothing. I went home after that and I have never been there during the night again.