I would like to note that this is my uncle’s story, not mine. I will also be writing this through my uncle’s perspective when the event occurred.
-Thanks, OP
I guess the whole event took place in the summer of ‘75. I was about 13. For the story to make since, I’ll start with context
My mother divorced my dad due to his issues with alcoholism, and quickly got custody over me and my five siblings. My dad was struggling greatly, so he made what was most likely the best decision, to move to a remote log cabin in Montana. He also had pretty serious mental problems. Because of his problems and the severity of them, my mom decided to never really let us stay at his cabin. She claims that she made a good decision, but I really feel like she accidentally made things worse, just isn’t brave enough to own up to it.
Anyway, my mother finally decided to let me fly up to my Dad’s cabin for a week, mostly because she felt like he needed someone in his life. Someone of his own flesh and blood to just be there for him. I wasn’t very pleased with the decision at first, but my mother just told me to suck it up, so I did.
The first day I arrived, my dad picked me up in his Ford ‘67 and we drove off. From the start, I could immediately tell that he was really bad off. He was very unkempt, he smelled like sweat and cheap deodorant, and he just gave off the vibe that he had practically hit rock bottom in life. But despite all that, I could tell he was happy to see me.
For the rest of the day, we just took it easy, I helped him with some housework, and just got to know each other. Everything was calm as could be until the Sun set.
That night, as I tucked myself into bed, I heard a sound. It sounded like something scratching against the window, and I also remember a faint deep, guttural sound. It honestly scared the shit out of me. But I was never a brave kid, so I just pretended it wasn’t there and fell asleep after a while.
The next morning, I decided to tell my dad about what I heard, to which he replied “It was probably just some coyote or puma.” I was pretty sure it wasn’t a puma or coyote, but I went with it anyway.
The next night, I heard the exact same thing I heard the night before, just louder. I tried to convince myself that it was just an animal, but deep down, I knew there was no way that the noise was from an animal, regardless of what it was.
I begged my dad to let me sleep somewhere else, but he didn’t seem to take me seriously. I guess he just thought I was joking or something?
With my nerves practically screaming in fear, I tried to suck it up and sleep that night. But of course, it was back, and louder than ever. That’s when I made the bold decision to look outside the window and hopefully, see that my concerns were over nothing. What I saw instead stuck with me permanently.
I saw some humanoid creature on hands and knees, scratching at my window. It’s body was thin and very lanky, and resembled a human with white skin aside from its head. It’s head was the bloody skull of a buck. We even made eye-to-socket contact.
I screamed and screamed and shut my eyes. I only opened them once I heard my dad running in from his room. When I opened my eyes, the creature was gone. Thankfully, my dad started to believe me from this point on.
It’s been about forty years since the incident, and I still remember all of it like a nightmare you can never forget. My dad passed away seven years later, apparently from a “breaking and entering gone wrong”. I don’t think I want to know what they meant by “gone wrong.
Thankfully, my dad is in a better place now, and I just hope that one day, I’ll forget what happened and I’ll be at peace too