Our last terrifying tale is as chilling as a night in the Canadian wilderness, which is incidentally, where this story takes place. With photographic evidence to send a shiver down your spine, you’ll be looking over your shoulder until next Halloween.
The following is a true story from back in 2013. Three months after these events transpired I went through some things that were much worse, though completely non-paranormal, and I wound up with a severe form of CPTSD. Sometimes I think this was a warning. The exact wording of the conversations is, obviously, just to the best of my memory but the events are exact.
This is the first time I'm telling this story in any semblance of a public manner because most people call me a liar - "luckily" for me this one comes with photo evidence.
In order for this to make any sense at all I have to provide a little bit of background on myself. I am a witch and an empath - fourth generation on my paternal grandmother's side. Weird things run in my family and all of us have a story or two, but I am the only one who has "picked up the torch" that my Great Grandmother left when she passed away at 100 years old (also in 2013). She taught me to use shrewd scepticism in tandem with a clairvoyant, older knowledge so that I am now able to perceive things that others have forgotten about. In short; I will always assume that the 'mystery knocking' is the radiator, but just in case I'm unable to find a logical explanation, I am prepared. This event is the reason that I never travel anywhere without sage anymore, and the reason that I will never ignore my gut feeling again.
It was January and I had just started dating a person, let's call them "John" for anonymity. His family owned a hunting lodge on a large piece of property on the shore of Lake Ontario, around the town of Bellville, and we had planned to go winter camping. The lodge was not plumbed or wired, and is set back deep in the brush on the boarder of a large wetland choked with coniferous trees, with a driveway of about 1.5 kilometres to get in through a gate. We would be there for two nights. The trip got off to a bad start - we left the city late and arrived with about an hour of usable daylight left; we expected it to be manageable. The roads were only partially ploughed, so we parked the car on the main road and trekked the 1.5 KMs in on foot with our packs. It was a long walk - I'm only 5'2" so the snow was higher than my knees, but we made it in. Next came the challenge of digging the ATVs out of the snowed in shed, blazing a track through the snow, and moving in the rest of our gear. Nothing went right - none of the vehicles would start and we were forced to make hasty repairs with weak flashlights, the daylight having faded long ago. It was well after midnight when we finally finished setting up. We packed the wood stove and were lighted by gas lamps, which would ordinarily have been very romantic if the lodge had any curtains whatsoever. The glass of the windows was the only barrier between our warm little cocoon and the darkness outdoors.
If you have never been in the middle of nowhere without electricity on an overcast, winter night, you don't really have a concept of how absolute the darkness can be - it is absolutely total. It's like closing your eyes in a cave and you cannot see your hand in front of your face. It was so dark that, after outing the gas lamps, the room was partially visible from the slightest rusty glow emanating from the stove. I felt uneasy, but John said nothing and I assumed my discomfort was due only to the unfamiliar surroundings and the difficulties in settling.
The next morning came as a bright, crisp wash of blue and white. The place in the day was the perfect image of a fairy tale winter wonder land - delicate icicles and frost clung to everything. We passed the day exploring the property with the exception of one path off into the conifers in the direction of the bog. I did ask about it though.
"There's nothing back there except more trees," he said, "and I'm not sure where the water starts or stops in the snow but, aside from that, the place kinda gives me the creeps."
I nodded and that was that. In the early afternoon we were feeling a little antsy - so we drove the ATV out back to the car and headed into town to pick up some dinner. We thought it would be a good way to kill three hours. However, we hadn't been on the main road for ten minutes before an emergency weather warning came up: It was going to snow and snow hard. We thought about weighing our options staying out, but the snow was already beginning to fly in that way that all Canadians know to be wary of. It was only a matter of minutes before we came to the realization that we had two options: get snowed into the lodge, or get snowed out of it. We made a U-turn and headed back.
The snow was still light when we got back but the darkness was total. Using our flashlights, we followed the ATV track back to the gate until John suddenly stopped dead and I heard him mutter "Jesus Christ" under his breath.
"What?" I asked, the hair on my neck beginning to prickle.
"Wolves" was all he said.
I whipped around to look at what he was seeing and, clear as day, there was a wolf trail that had not been in our path the previous hour when we were on our way out. It could only be wolves - John is 6"3 and the prints were equal in size to his palm, the prints travelled in a single file line as wolves to on a winter hunting trail, and there were no human tracks whatsoever. We were exactly halfway between the lodge and the car. Without a word we hustled the last ten or so feet to the ATV, thankful that it had been within sight; no wolf will approach a running ATV and we both knew that. Their presence was alarming, but they avoid humans and all the noise and light associated with us. Though the tracks had been leading away from the lodge in a 90% angle, we still hurried to get inside. By that point it was around 8pm and the snow was coming down more heavily. We would, we thought, be safe and snug in the cabin until morning.
We tried to settle in for the night, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I have been out in the bush since the day I was born and I have been around wolves before, so at a certain point my worry became worrying. As a skeptic, I wrote it off as typical anxiety about the whole situation. I tried to read, we played cards, we roasted marshmallows on the wood stove, but I only became more uncomfortable. Eventually, I was able to narrow down the source of my unease: the curtain-less windows. It was the sort of sensation you get when you know FOR A FACT you are being watched, but I ignored it.
"Silly me," I thought, "of course this is bizarre - just cover up the windows and it'll be fine." and so we located every extra blanket and towel in that building, then covered all the windows. My unease was somewhat lessened, so we snuggled up in bed to listen to the coming storm.
Only a few minutes passed before I became uncomfortable again - I felt strongly that we were in immediate danger but was also aware that we could, under no circumstances, walk out into a violent snow storm in the middle of the night. I kicked myself for not bringing any medicine with me - I would have killed for some white sage. I had known I would need it, and I had left it at home anyways. It was now around 10pm and the storm outside was absolutely screaming - it sounded like the roof of the lodge was about to be ripped off.
"You know what's a great way to ease your worries about the windows?" he asked rhetorically, before continuing, "just take a peek out there - you'll see that nobody is there and it'll calm us both down. That storm sounds pretty crazy - I bet it's cool to watch." I could almost taste the fear creeping onto his person.
I tried to smile, "Maybe we'll see a tree get ripped out or something" and we both laughed awkwardly. I looked at the now covered window and thought about it - I was curious to see the snow instead of just hearing it battering the sides of the lodge. I moved the blanket cover and my stomach dropped: absolutely nothing outside was moving. We could hear the storm raging around us, but outside the snow had seemed to stop and not a single twig on the bare trees so much as trembled. I turned to look him and he had gone completely white. Just then a massive crash rocked the building - it seemed to come from the roof. We checked all the windows and saw absolutely nothing.
In desperation I lit some incense and prayed over the lodge in an attempt to put up some barriers but all my work was tainted by my own fear. When I was done we both curled up together on the bed in silence for a long time. We didn't go to sleep, just huddled in bed and waited for morning. That is where his experience ended: I know he slept, but I don't know if I did.
This is where this story gets really weird - I know I must have slept because I know I must have dreamed. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them the lodge was well-lit and filled with people of different places and times, though all of them would have fit in a timeline of that particular piece of Canada. It was about ten people. They didn't seem to notice me and they milled around, talking quietly to each other. I was frightened, so I only looked for a moment, but I remember most clearly the figures of a man with a feathered mohawk, no shirt, and deerhide pants standing near, but not interacting with, a young woman dressed in a light - blue 1700's period dress, parasol resting on her shoulder.
I tried to avoid moving because I didn't want to draw attention to myself, so I just closed my eyes. When I opened them again a moment later it was due to a strong pain in my abdomen. The lodge was again dark and I was alone with just the sleeping form of my (now ex) boyfriend. The pain subsided after a moment, so I closed my eyes again and listened to the not-really-a storm continue to rage. The pain returned five or six more times until, finally, something within me said "push". So I did - the pain was momentarily worse, then it lessened and left me. For the umpteenth time that night I closed my eyes. The next time I opened them the world outside was milky with the first light of dawn and, mercifully, it was now silent. The storm was over.
We both wanted to get the hell out of there, so he took the ATV to load up the car while I packed up in the cabin. When he was gone for too long, I sent out a prayer for his safety. A little less than ten minutes later he pulled up and bustled inside.
"Were you here the whole time?" he demanded in a rush.
I nodded, "of course! Why?"
"Because I just saw you."
"When I was getting the ATV back on the trail," he explained, "I got it jammed in a boggy part of the road and the engine cut out. I fought with it for like twenty minutes. All of a sudden I looked up and there you were walking down the trail to meet me - I thought you came to look for me because I was taking so long. I gave the ignition one more try and it turned on, but when I looked up again you were gone."
For just a beat there was silence, "we need to get the fuck out of here." was the only thing I could say.
After that point we hauled out of there as fast as we could manage but, eventually, we were back in the car on the highway.
About an hour into our drive he casually asked "so I guess you didn't need any tampons or anything right?"
I gave him a confused look.
"You know," he continued, "didn't you get your period last night?"
I shook my head slowly, the hair on the back of my neck standing up, "no, I'm not on my period. Not even close."
"Then how did the blood get on the sheets? It's right where you were sleeping." he continued slowly.
"It must have been there before?" I suggested but he shook his head before I'd even finished my sentence.
"They're new sheets..." he trailed off as I dove into the back seat to find the bag with the blankets while he continued, "my mom thought it would be a good opportunity to pick up some new linen. She bought them, washed them, and folded them the day before we left."
Sure enough, I found the blood. It was, indeed, where I had been sleeping. I find the pattern the most disturbing, it makes me think of the mobile chest buster from Alien... I hope others who see the pictures will have more pleasant ideas than I have, but to me I can't unsee a splatter pattern that says "something bloody crawling then vanishing" and directionally it seemed to "move" away from a certain area of my body. The attached pictures are the ones that I took in the car that day. I included my hand for size reference.
So that's my story - You'll have to forgive any grammatical or spelling errors but on a whim I sat down and wrote the whole thing out in one draft. I have a couple of other stories, but this one is the most personally disturbing for me and it's the one I find most difficult to rationalise.
Submitted by Anon, Photos below