"I never wanted to see that place again. I went out of my way to avoid the roads in that area. Talking about it still makes my chest tighten, my skin crawl, and my eyes water."
I received the following account:
“It took moving 1000 miles away to finally feel comfortable enough to tell you this story. This happened just before my senior year of high school over 3 weeks in the summer. I was 17 years old, drug-free and sober, and, at the most, I took Advil for headaches every now and again. I just want to assure you that I was not on any mind-altering substances or long-term medication that could affect my cognitive ability.
During the summer, my curfew was 11 PM, and this occurred while driving home from my (at that time) boyfriend's house, which took roughly 15 minutes, so let's say about 10:45 at night. I was full of energy at this age and a night owl, so I was not even remotely tired. In fact, I was hyped up with the warm summer nighttime breeze, car windows down, singing along to the radio. I took a short cut through back roads to avoid going into the tiny city with its jerk cops. Also, one of the roads I took was super straight and flat, so I could really speed, and that feels great when you're a teenager. But right before that road, I had to take two very close turns to get onto it. First, I'd take a right turn that was more than 90 degrees almost back the way I had come, then in exactly half a mile, I would turn left onto the long straight road where I could really put the gas pedal down. Since it was only half a mile, I normally didn't speed up that much because the small stretch of road was more like packed gravel, and it would be a waste as I would have to slow down again to turn left onto the much better road where I could let loose. The tiny property on the inside corner of the left turn is where all this went down.
A house had recently been built there, 2 stories with a detached garage, and it seemed odd how quickly it had been erected as we built our family house, and it took us a year to finish it. I will start at the beginning because I believe this is all related. Week 1, I am positively jamming to my music, the wind whipping through my car feels great, and I'm relaxed in my very familiar drive home. I slow down to make my right turn onto the rough rural road, just be-bopping along when my lights illuminate something stunning sitting on the corner of the road. It's a wolf, a real wolf, a solid white real wolf. I know the difference between my dog breeds and a wolf. I love watching dog competitions, wildlife documentaries, and I have even met a 1/4th wolf in person. They look different from domestic dogs. This was a wolf, and it was amazing and blew my mind. I slow down even more while I turn down my music. I'm getting close to it, and I notice that it's not minding me at all. It is sitting perfectly still on the corner of the road, staring at the house. Almost unblinking, its ears didn't even flick towards me; all its attention was focused on this house. I was so close I could have reached out my window and brushed the fur on the back of its head. I was smiling and amazed, but my mind was already churning. It made no sense for a wolf to be behaving like that, even less for there to be a white wolf in rural north Alabama in the summer. I came to a complete stop behind it, marveling at its fur and presence. I felt euphoric, like I had seen something rare and blessed. My mind made a jump to the local Indian stories of animal spirit guardians, and I started to wonder. I couldn't stay, though. Mom would never believe me if I told her I was late because of a spirit wolf.
With a sigh, I said goodbye to the wolf and drove home in a better mood than ever. I got to see something special, and it filled me with emotions of joy and peace. Week 2, I was driving home again, and I had been taking extra care to keep an eye out for my wolfy buddy, hoping to see him again around that area, so I drove extra slow with my window down and radio off. That was a horrible mistake. I should have realized what the presence of a guardian meant; it meant danger. Alas, I was on the short road approaching the new little house. Then I saw the thing that to this very day makes me question my sanity, my reality, and the possibility of eldritch terrors as Lovecraft described. It was crouched right before their mailbox, its limbs folded and pulled in tight with its hunched posture, yet its head was still taller than the box. It was mottled green and black with undertones of blue, and it looked wet and slimy all over. Its head was elongated, allowing for an extended maw full of razor sharp teeth. The upper half of its body looked emaciated, with barely more than frog-like thin skin pulled over angular long bones, ropy muscles to hold it upright, and at the end of its grossly stretched arms where equally terrible long fingers. Its legs had bulk to them and looked equipped for running, with back-facing knees for sprinting and tipped-in raptor-like curved claws. It looked tall, maybe 7 feet maybe more, just folded up into this predator's posture, waiting for prey. Then there were its eyes, solid black and sunken. I still want to vomit thinking about its eyes looking at me. Then I realized... it's going to look at me, it's going to see me, and there is no avoiding it.
Panic, terror unique to this alien thing, swallowed me instantly, feeling like I was tilting off the world I had always known and into an abyss where monsters like this exist. I couldn't breathe but I had to get my window up. I had to get my window up, or I would be ripped by those teeth and torn with those claws, blood would adorn the cabin of my car, and I would become an unsolved mystery. I had a manual crank window, f*ck me, I had a crank window because I was scared of crashing into water and not being able to get out of my car but now I realized that there were far worse things in the world than crashing into water. Its head was turning towards me, and I had let off the gas, but I was still getting closer to it. It made me want to scream, but I had to get my window up first, and I was cranking it as hard as I could. I was starting to cry as I finally got the window closed and then I put my gas pedal to the floor, gravel road be damned. I thought I must not look at it as I pass, I must not look at it or make direct eye contact, I just shouldn't, it's not good to connect with these things, I've already seen too much. My tires had found grip, and I started to launch forward, passing it. In my peripheral vision, I could see it starting to unfold its limbs, and it sent a terrible chill down my spine. “I'm screwed, I'm really screwed, fck, fck, f*ck ...” I was mumbling through my tears as I slid around the turn, fishtailing for a moment before I rocketed down the road. I felt sick, my heart was hammering, I had snot and tears rolling down my face, and my hands were shaking. I glanced in my rear view mirror and could only see darkness as there were no street lamps out there. I used a trick, to tap my brake soft enough the light comes on, but I don't actually slow down. Red lit up the dust that was billowing up in my wake, but amidst the swirling chaos, I thought I saw a darker shadow than the rest, a tall, thin shadow. I had enough and decided I was going to drive straight to the lighted roads and not let off the gas again the rest of the way, no more looking back. I was going to drive 109mph, which is as fast as I can go before my governor kicks in. I even ran a stop sign at the end of the road because I was NOT going to get caught by this thing if I could help it. I took a right onto the highway and flew home. I might have even been relieved to get pulled over, but I did not.
When I got home, no one was awake. I was trusted to come home on time, so I called my boyfriend and cried to him for a long time before I was able to explain. He was dismissive and thought I was pulling a joke on him, then he thought I was just being crazy and seeing things. There are many reasons we didn't stay together, but his insensitivity contributed.
Week 3: I refused to take my shortcut anymore, and for that reason, I would have to leave my boyfriend's house a bit early, and he'd been making fun of me about it all week. One of the days, we went to a park to walk around, and on the way back he decided he wanted to drive by the house where I saw that thing. I was hysterically begging him not to drive there, but he would not be dissuaded. As we got closer, and I could not stop him, I leaned my passenger side seat all the way back and pulled myself down, cowering in panic of getting near the place. I hid below the window and covered my eyes while panting heavily, reliving the traumatic night in my mind again. At one point, he stopped the car. “Spooky, you have to see this,” he said. “Noooo,” I whined, resisting him pulling at my arm. “No, you really have to see this, look.” He said in a changed tone of astonishment. Tears in my eyes, I uncurled and slowly peeked over the rim of the window. The house was gone, burnt clear down to the foundation, with only a handful of framing beams still standing. The ground around the house was blackened in a perfect large circle.
My boyfriend started to get out of the car, and I shouted, “NO! Let's get out of here!” while I grabbed for his arm but he easily avoided me and got out. He walked around the ashy piles of the ruins for a bit, using a stick to poke at this and that. When he finally came back, he had an intense look of thinking on his face. “There was no evidence of any personal belongings, furniture, power wiring, or even interior walls. It doesn't seem like other burnt-out houses; something's weird.” When we got to his house he searched for news articles about any house fires in the area; there weren't any. He called the closest fire station and was quickly brushed off by the person that answered as they didn't know about a fire there and didn't have time to find out before quickly hanging up on him.
I never wanted to see that place again. I went out of my way to avoid the roads in that area. Talking about it still makes my chest tighten, my skin crawl, and my eyes water. My brain still has trouble because I know I saw it, a thing that is nothing like any creature known to humans, yet still I saw it. This is near Moulton, Alabama. This happened to me summer 2002.” SW
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