Читать книгу Real Vampires, Night Stalkers and Creatures from the Darkside - Brad Steiger - Страница 28

In many Native American traditions, the werewolf, were coyote, or whatever form the therianthrope or demon may assume is known as a “Skin Walker.” My good friend, Priscilla Garduno Wolf, an Apache Medicine woman from New Mexico, told me of her encounter with such an entity which occurred when she was a teenager. Sister Wolf related the following story.

It was a beautiful day, and I was ready for the prom. I caught a ride with a friend, Molly, and the night went very well. However, at the end of the prom, Molly told me to catch a ride home with someone else; she was going to Alamosa with her boyfriend. I asked several people, but no one offered to take me home. I lived three miles from the school, and at that time all the roads were dirt.

I had no choice but to walk home in my formal, holding my heels in my hands. The moon was shining, but it was still very dark. I wasn’t scared until I got close to the area where people claimed the Wolf Boy was buried. Grandpa said that the old people buried him there in the 1500s. Nearby, there was this huge tree that my grandfather had named the Skin Walker tree, because of sightings of Skin Walkers in that area.

I wanted to walk back to my grandmother’s home, but I was scared that the Wolf Boy would appear to me, so I continued walking east toward my mother’s home. When I crossed the old bridge, I heard a noise coming from under it. I looked back, and I saw what appeared to be a calf walking toward me. I started to run, and it began to run, following me.

It was about 300 feet to my mom’s home, and I took off running fast. The animal stood up on its hind legs and almost caught me. I could hear its loud breathing. It sounded not human or animal like, but different.

I made it to my mother’s farm land, and the thing jumped across the fence. When I got to the door of the house, I banged so hard to wake up Mom. “Open up!” I kept yelling! “Something is chasing me.”

In recent years, Hollywood has released a number of motion pictures, such as the “Underworld” series, that have created a pseudo-history of a centuries’ old conflict between vampires and were-wolves (illustration by Dan Allen).

Mom made it to the door. I pushed her aside and shut the door, and we locked it. She shut the lights off so no one could look in the house. My baby brother, Adam, was sleeping, and after a while I lay down. I was so worn out from running. I heard someone turning the knob of the door—and opening it! I could hear what sounded like the footsteps of a horse moving from room to room toward me.

All of a sudden it was next to my bed. I screamed for Mom to turn the lights on, but she was having a hard time getting up. It was like she was in a daze. I felt the Skin Walker’s hand on me, touching my face and throat! His smelly breath and loud breathing were right next to me. The monster was tall and skinny half human and half something that looked like a cow. His hands were rough and hairy, and he had long nails.

I couldn’t breathe! I screamed again and asked God to help me. It scratched my neck, and I was bleeding. When Mom managed to turn on the light, it vanished. Mom saw three scratches on my neck and said it was the Devil that had left his claw marks on me. We got up and checked the door. It was still locked, but the door hadn’t mattered to the Skin Walker.

By morning the scratches were gone, just vanished. I wrote two stories years later that I called “The Devil’s Claws” and “The Skin Walker.”