These are 3 SCARY SKINWALKER STORIES Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:20:23 Story 2 00:39:27 Story 3 Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Thumbnail art: ►Just Creepy Business inquiries: ►[email protected] #scarystories #horrorstories #skinwalker #scarystoriespodcast 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What is the introduction to scary skinwalker stories?
I always thought moving to the cabin would be peaceful. You know, the quiet where the loudest thing is the wind in the trees and the occasional crackle of a fire. Grace loved it here. She said the woods felt alive, like they were watching over us. I used to laugh that off, but after what happened, I'm not so sure anymore.
Chapter 2: What happens in the first skinwalker story?
The ridge loomed behind the cabin like a wall, the trees stretched thin and tall against the sky. It was beautiful during the day, but at night it was something else entirely. The way the shadows moved, the faint rustle of branches. It was too still, too quiet. I'd chalked it up to my imagination, at least until that night on the porch.
Chapter 3: What unfolds in the second skinwalker story?
We were sitting outside wrapped in a blanket watching the stars. Grace was leaning against me, her face lit by the faint glow of the lantern beside us. She was humming softly, something she'd heard growing up, when she stopped mid-note and stiffened. Do you see that? she whispered, barely audible. See what? I asked, already feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Chapter 4: What is the climax of the third skinwalker story?
She pointed toward the ridge. At first I didn't see anything, just the black outline of trees against the sky. But then it moved, a flash of pale, almost white, slinking low to the ground. I squinted, trying to make sense of it.
Chapter 5: What is the narrator’s final reflection on the encounter?
a deer maybe but it wasn't it was too thin its limbs too long its movements all wrong it crawled forward on all fours its head jerking unnaturally like it was struggling to balance itself for a second it stopped and turned toward us i froze i couldn't see its face but i swear it was looking at me It's just an animal, I muttered, trying to convince myself as much as Grace. She shook her head.
No, it's not. Her voice didn't sound like her, calm, almost reverent. She leaned forward, her eyes locked on the thing as it crawled into the shadows and disappeared. I wanted to get up, grab the flashlight, and chase after it, but my legs wouldn't move. Maybe it's a coyote, I suggested, my voice unsteady. Grace smiled faintly, her eyes still fixed on the ridge. No, she said, it's something else.
I didn't sleep that night. Every creak of the cabin, every gust of wind, made me jump. Grace, though, seemed perfectly at ease. She even laughed at me when I told her I'd heard something outside. Maybe it's your forest spirit, I said, trying to make light of it. She just smiled. Maybe it is. The next morning, I went out to check the property.
The air was crisp, the ground damp from the rain the night before. Everything looked normal until I got to the edge of the clearing. Then I found something disturbing.
a circle of broken branches scattered as if something had been lying there in the center was a pile of bones small ones picked clean i knelt down my stomach twisting they looked like rabbit bones but there was something off about the way they were arranged almost like a spiral
i brought grace out to see it she didn't seem phased it's a gift she said simply a gift from what she shrugged her gaze drifting toward the ridge the forest i laughed nervously but she didn't she just stood there staring until i finally dragged her back inside that night the thing came closer We were inside, the fire crackling low, when Grace suddenly got up and went to the window. What is it?
I asked, already dreading the answer. She didn't reply at first, just pressed her hand against the glass. Finally, she said, it's here. My chest tightened. I grabbed the flashlight and stepped onto the porch. The air was freezing, my breath coming out in clouds. And there it was. It stood at the edge of the clearing, upright now, its pale body stretched and gaunt.
Its limbs were too long, its hands dangling near its knees. It didn't move, didn't breathe, just stood there, watching me. I shined the flashlight on it, and it flinched, its head snapping to the side like it was trying to avoid the light. Then it dropped to all fours and skittered back into the woods, disappearing into the dark.
When I turned back to the house, Grace was still at the window, smiling. "'It doesn't want to hurt us,' she said, her voice soft. "'It just wants to watch.' That was the first time I felt truly afraid, not of the thing, but of her. It started with Grace spending more time on the porch. She'd always liked being outside, but this was different.
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