I sat at my computer late last night, researching stories of the supernatural. I am totally convinced I saw a skinwalker on my back porch, just standing there. The elongated legs it was standing on were thin and bony, the matted fur that covered the thing was thick with blood. Blotches of the substance could be seen, even in the weak rays of my porch light. The stories say that they are part of an ancient Navajo legend.
It is said that in order to turn into such a creature, you have to kill a close family member. Then, all you need is the pelt of the animal you want to be. The most usual forms that they take are animals such as coyotes/wolves, owls, foxes, and even crows. The thing I saw was more of a creature mutated beyond recognition. It stood on two legs, not four. It didn’t have wings either. Its eyes glowed with unexplainable hatred.
My friend was texting me constantly, trying to get me to go to sleep, but I told her I couldn’t. If I went to sleep, it may show up again. What would I do then? I saw the long talon-like fingernails, and the many fangs that lined the inside of it’s mouth. Besides the animalistic appearance, it still seemed oddly human-like, which seemed to scare me even more.
My phone rings, and I pick it up slowly, pressing a button to answer it as I held it up to my ear.
“Hello” I said.
“You’re in too deep this time, you know that?”
“I know.”