Three Skinwalker or 'Yee Naaldlooshii' encounter accounts that detail bizarre encounters with these native witches. Have you every had a similar personal incident?

I have received the following accounts over time:

"I’m Native American and according to what my family has told me talking about these witches isn’t exactly a good thing and is basically a sin.

Around the time I was 7 or so I had gotten a youth .22 rifle as a gift. We were camping out at a property my family owns and I was doing target practice and I noticed a grey figure in the corner of my eyes behind a tree. Take note, I am vision impaired and need glasses so something like this isn’t uncommon. I simply ignored the grey figure and continued inaccurately shooting. I then saw the thing get bigger, as if this grey figure was getting closer. So I lowered my rifle and looked over. As I did, there was a rotten smell and I decided to lay my rifle on the log I was sitting on and ran into the camper where the rest of my family was.

My dad asked why I ran in so abrupt and I just said I saw a cougar (as cougars aren’t common in the area). My dad replied that they don’t usually attack people, I just wanted to be inside. I was scared shitless 90% of the time as a kid.

Later that night I heard screaming coming from the woods that sounded like my little cousin, I opened my eyes and saw my cousin’s hand out from the top bunk. I was scared and decided to close my eyes and just ignore it. I had never heard any screaming or seen any pale figures from that point on." P

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"I’ve always enjoyed camping in places where people ought not to go. Caves no one but me can get to, cliffs considered too dangerous by other experienced climbers and I even spent a night on top of Mount Everest. To say that I make undeniably stupid decisions is an understatement. But this one time really had me screwed.

There’s this bit of land in Arizona that is said to have belonged to some Native American tribe some time ago. It’s really barren, but there is this old house on there that seems to have been abandoned for decades if not longer. I’d long planned to stay there for a bit, and since the pandemic has kept everyone indoors I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to spend a week there.

August comes around and I make my way to that old house. I enter through the front door and see it. There’s a coyote just inside. Great. I didn’t know there were coyotes in the area. I slowly back out and away from it, right up until it stood on it’s hind legs. This f*cking coyote stood up onto its hind legs! Then it talked. “I’ve been waiting for you (said my name!). Why don’t you come on in.” I screamed and started running. I got maybe 200 yards away from the house before tripping over. I looked behind me and saw it leaving the house. It didn’t look like a coyote anymore. This is hard to explain, but it looked as if it were turning into me. I didn’t stay to get a good look as I got up and ran the one and a half miles back to my car (I’d hiked to the house). I managed to get away and never saw it again. But then again, I’m never going back to that house again either." C

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"I am not an Native American, but I have a Skinwalker story. I go along with a friend to check on his grandfather’s Hogan; his grandfather is in the hospital for a spell. He had some kind of accident there on the property. We get to the place and we’re hanging out for a while, drinking some beers.

My friend suddenly goes real still and puts his finger up to his lips like he wants me to be quiet. I hear this shuffling noise coming from just outside. My friend, who is Hopi, has dark skin. Suddenly, though, his face turn several shades paler. The shuffling becomes louder as if someone is coming towards the door. My friend grabs a piece of burning firewood out of the stove, goes over towards the door, and hurls it out in front of the Hogan. We hear it hit the ground with a 'thunk.' Immediately, there is this high-pitched haughty laughter, something like the 'Wicked Witch of the West.'

Every hair on my body stands up. My friend starts yelling out in his native language and screaming obscenities in English. All I can do is pull out my pocket knife and hold it up in the ready. The person outside just keeps laughing. I finally get the cojones to move over towards the door and peek out. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest.

Only several feet from me is this Skinwalker. It is leaning up against the wall just to the right, thin and scraggly, covered with these mangy animal skins, and staring back at me with these eyes like dull black marbles. I’m convinced it is a woman. I see what look to be breasts beneath the skins, but thin and sagging, like she’s really old. Her face is covered with splotches of hair, and I can’t tell if it’s real or some kind of get-up. It is pretty dark.

I let out a bit of scream, though I hate to admit it. Then, it just turns and jogs off towards these hills to the other side of the Hogan. That’s the only time I have seen a Skinwalker since and I hope to never see one again." H

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