Living out in the country has its upsides, but more than anything it has its downsides. Now when I say living in the country, I mean the country. The kind of country where it’s a 45-minute drive to the nearest post office, the kind of country where your closest neighbor is 4 miles away. Sure, it’s nice being away from the city and all, but when it’s just you and your two dogs on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, it gets creepy, and lately I’ve noticed some odd things happening. Now, I know dogs act weird sometimes, like barking at stuff outside that isn’t there, but I’ve started wondering if there is something that I’m not exactly seeing that they might be. Aside from the occasional deer, coyote, racoon, and other animals, there isn’t much that comes about out here, at least I thought so. I’ve seen racoon tracks on the porch and trash spilt around before, and I don’t think anything of it. But when I started noticing handprints on windows, that’s when the concern started. The first time I stumbled upon it was when I was going out the front door to get the mail, and I saw two HUGE handprints on the glass, as if someone or something was looking into the house. Living in the middle of nowhere, you have to own a gun or two, and I tend to take my dogs barking seriously, seeing as one of them is an ex-police K9; he doesn’t play. And if my dogs barked and I didn’t notice someone at my front door, that means it had to have happened when I was gone, or that they didn’t even notice. This was about 2 weeks ago and honestly, I had forgotten about it until recently, when weirder stuff started. And it has only seemed to increase in severity.
About three days ago, I was out with Drago, my Belgian Malinois, and I was cleaning up branches from around the detached garage. (There had been a really bad storm not long ago and it nearly took out a couple windows but that’s beside the point.) I was loading fallen limbs into the bed of my truck, and Drago starts barking at something in the wood line. Again, he doesn’t bark at squirrels or airplanes like other dogs, he barks when he finds something. I walk over there to find a mutilated deer carcass, strung up from all four legs, back in a small clearing. I’ve never seen anything like this and was a little startled, but I just went back there and cut it down. The insides of it were missing, as well as its head, which I found odd, but I didn’t think too much of it. I drug what’s left of it and toss it over my fence so other animals can eat it. After finishing up with chores, I walk around to the front of the house, discovering where the innards of the deer went, and discovering that I need a change of underwear. On the white brick front of my house: “Four Nights” written in what I assume is deer blood. Again, this was the evening of Wednesday, it’s now Saturday night. And honestly, I just figured it as a dumb prank from some teens, but the past days have made me think otherwise. In addition to the spelling on my house, I found more handprints around the property, this time bloody.
Yesterday morning, I woke up to find trash strewn in my entire yard. Now I’m no stranger to racoons and whatnot taking trash and leaving a mess, but this looked like a dump truck blew up on my front lawn. Fast forward to last night, I’m sitting in my living room, watching the TV, which sits right in front of my front window. While I’m focused on the Family Feud on the TV, I hear something fairly large come up on the porch (there’s some loose boards that I’m too lazy to fix) and I can hear it move closer and closer to the door. But to get to the door, whatever it is has to pass by the window. At this point, I have my Remington 870 trained in its direction, and it emerges into view, but only what looks like its bottom half. This thing is so tall, I can’t see its head, nor its shoulders. It bends down to meet my eyes and there, on its face, is the deer skull. I’m frozen in fear and just stare. I manage to pull the shotgun up and fire through the window, but as fast as this thing appeared, it’s gone. Through this whole ordeal, up until I shot, my dogs hadn’t moved a muscle, and I have no clue why. I boarded up the front window and right now I’m held up in my room with my dogs and my gun because I’ve heard noises and frequent whistling(?) coming from outside and I don’t know what it is. If this thing is serious about whatever it plans to do in “Four Nights”, then I only have a day left. I came here for help and if any of you know what is happening, please let me know how I can stop this.