As a horror narrator, sometimes a story gets sent to me that's a bit too short or a bit too long,

so it's hard to fit into an upcoming script. And because of that, sometimes it sits in my inbox for weeks, months, even years, and I end up

forgetting about it. This is one such story, and when I read it, I was horrified, partially

because I'd let it sit for so long, but mostly because it was marked as a true story.

People change names, even locations, when they share their true stories.

Others often outright fake their stories.

What I'm about to share with you has no title, and the author was completely anonymous.

I'll leave it up to you to decide whether you believe this or not, but it may be the most terrifying Skinwalker story on the internet.

There were two times in my life where I was certain I was dealing with the Skinwalker.

Not the internet kind, not the Hollywood version.

I'm talking about the real thing, the Yin Nod Lushi.

The kind my grandfather warned us about when my parents weren't around, the kind that

makes Navajo elders go quiet and change the subject.

The first time I was ten years old, and it wore my dog's skin.

The second time I was in my mid-twenties, and it wore the skin of a man I helped rescue from the

high desert outside Cortez, Colorado.

I'm going to tell you both stories, because I believe they might be connected in ways I'm only now beginning to understand.

They both still keep me up at night.

My name is Mason.

I'm Navajo on my mother's side, and I grew up splitting

time between Tulsa and Window Rock, Arizona. For 15 years, I worked as a wilderness EMT and volunteer

search and rescue coordinator for San Juan County. I've seen people die in the back country, and I've

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