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Ithe kodiak island incident
Kodiak Island, Alaska, USA—a quiet, friendly, and welcoming place for tourists. But for people like me? Living on Kodiak Island is like living on the edge every day. The only thing I have to document my experiences on this island is this dusty old Goodwill Chromebook I just bought after my five-day trip to Missouri. Now, I can record everything that happens on this deadly soil. I’ve lived here for maybe seven years, and I have a lot of stories, but I’ll share them in a different post. For now, I just want to document everything that happens here.
I don’t know how much longer I can stay here. I haven’t felt safe on this island for years, but last night—it was something else. Something I can’t explain, something that still has my hands shaking. I need to write this down while it’s fresh, before the fear swallows the details.
It started just before sundown, around 5 p.m. I was sitting by the window, drinking coffee, staring out at the treeline like I always do. There’s something about those trees that’s never felt right, like they’re hiding secrets, things I’m not supposed to see. But last night, I did see something.
At first, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me—light fading, shadows stretching, maybe a bear moving between the trees. We get those all the time. But this wasn’t a bear. No, it was too tall. Way too tall. And its fur wasn’t dark; it was this sickly, pale white that seemed to glow against the dimming sky. I told myself it was nothing, just fog catching the last of the light, but deep down, I knew better. I could feel it. Something was watching me.
I leaned closer to the window, squinting into the dusk, hoping I was wrong. That’s when it moved. Not like an animal—there was no hesitation, no fear. It moved deliberately, like it wanted me to see it. It stepped out from behind the trees, and I swear, my heart stopped. It stood on two legs, towering, its body covered in long, matted fur that clung to its skin in clumps. Its face—god, I don’t even know how to describe it. Like a bird, but wrong. So wrong. Its eyes... they were fixed on me, unblinking, like it could see straight into my soul.
I froze. I’ve faced some dangerous things on this island—bears, storms, the isolation—but nothing like this. My mind screamed at me to run, to hide, but I couldn’t move. I was trapped in its gaze, as if I’d been swallowed by the cold air outside. It didn’t move toward me, didn’t growl or make any sound. It just stood there, watching, its eyes never leaving mine.
I don’t know what came over me, but I grabbed a handful of rocks from the porch and threw them as hard as I could. I don’t know why. What did I think a few rocks would do against something like that? They hit the ground near its feet, but it didn’t even flinch. It just... raised its hand. And that’s when I saw it.
Thick, purple liquid oozed from its fingers, dripping onto the ground with this low, sickening hiss. The smell hit me like a punch to the gut—putrid, rotting, like something long dead. My stomach churned, and I nearly gagged. But I couldn’t look away. I was locked in this silent, awful exchange, just me and that thing.
And then it did something I’ll never forget. It smiled. Not a normal smile. Its beak, or whatever you want to call it, curled unnaturally, as if it knew exactly how terrified I was. I could feel my skin crawl, the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to get inside, but my feet were glued to the ground, my heart slamming against my ribs.
I don’t know how long we stood there, me frozen, it dripping that awful liquid, but suddenly I snapped out of it. I don’t even remember turning, but I found myself sprinting back into the house, slamming the door shut so hard the walls shook. I locked every window, every door, double-checked the locks—my hands trembling so bad I could barely manage it.
I looked at the clock. It was 5:08. I had only been outside for a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity. My heart was racing, my mind spinning with questions I didn’t want the answers to.
I didn’t sleep much after that. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw its face, those eyes, that smile. I stayed up until exhaustion took me, and when I finally woke up this morning... the window was open. And smeared across my door, in thick, dripping streaks, was that same purple liquid. The smell still lingers in the air.
It’s watching me. I know it is.
I can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming for me. Last night was bad enough with that pale, bird-like thing at the treeline, but what I saw today? It’s on a whole other level. And the worst part? I didn’t even see all of it. Just enough to know I’m in deep, deep trouble.
It started around 4:30 p.m. was still trying to convince myself that maybe the creature from last night was just some strange animal, maybe a trick of the light, but deep down, I knew better. It’s been seven years on this island, and things have always been... off. But today, it was different. Much worse.
I heard it before I saw it. A dragging, scraping sound coming from the woods, slow and deliberate, like something was pulling itself through the dirt. It was louder than anything I’d heard out here before—heavier. I didn’t want to check. I should’ve stayed inside, but I couldn’t stop myself. My curiosity got the better of me. I needed to know what it was. I grabbed my flashlight and stepped outside, already feeling the chill in the air, like the island was warning me to stay put.
The woods were darker than they should’ve been. Clouds had rolled in, and everything felt... wrong. Still, I walked closer to the treeline, sweeping my flashlight over the underbrush, searching for movement. That’s when I saw it—scales. Huge, shiny, black scales, catching the last bit of light from the dying sun.
I froze. Whatever those scales belonged to, it was big. Really big. I could hear it moving, slow and deliberate, but I couldn’t see all of it. Just the shifting glint of scales as they disappeared behind trees, as if the creature was staying just out of view on purpose.
My flashlight flickered, and for a second, I thought I’d lose it completely, but then the light stabilized—and that’s when I saw **them**. Two eyes, staring at me from just beyond the trees.
They weren’t like any animal’s eyes I’ve ever seen. They were too large, glowing faintly in the darkness, like embers in a dying fire. Deep yellow, with a strange intelligence behind them. They didn’t blink, didn’t shift away. Just locked on me. Watching. Waiting.
The rest of the creature—its body, its face—was hidden in the shadows. I could only make out the shape of its head, broad and looming, but it was like the darkness clung to it, like it didn’t want to be seen. But those eyes—they burned through the black, pinning me where I stood.
I felt this wave of nausea hit me, like its gaze alone was enough to make me sick. I didn’t understand how, but I knew, deep down, that this thing wasn’t just watching me. It was sizing me up. I could feel its focus on me, almost like it was trying to decide if I was worth the trouble. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I couldn’t look away.
It didn’t move closer, not yet. But I could see its scales shifting again, just beyond the reach of my flashlight, massive and smooth, catching the dim light like polished stone. The way it moved was almost hypnotic, slow and deliberate, like it knew it didn’t need to rush. It was in control.
Then, it let out this low, rumbling sound, like a growl, but deeper. I could feel it in my bones, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. The trees shuddered around me, leaves falling like a soft rain. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I took a step back, my legs shaking, the beam of my flashlight wobbling. That’s when I saw it—just the briefest glimpse of its face. Not the whole thing, not even enough to describe, but just a flash as it shifted in the shadows. It had a face, alright. I’m sure of it. But what I saw... it was wrong. It was too smooth, too sleek, like it wasn’t finished, or like it was wearing a mask. And its mouth—god, I only caught a second of it, but it was enough. The way its jaw hung open, too wide, like it could swallow me whole in one bite.
I stumbled back toward the house, nearly tripping over my own feet. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the creature, even though the darkness was swallowing it whole again. Those eyes, though. They never left me. They glowed faintly, like embers, burning into me even as I backed away.
Just before I slammed the door behind me, I heard it again—the scraping sound. Louder this time, closer. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in a hurry. It didn’t need to be. It knew where I was. It wasn’t hunting like an animal. No, this thing was patient. It knew I’d come out again eventually.
Once inside, I locked the door, though I know it won’t make a difference. If it wanted to get in, it could. Easy. I’ve been pacing ever since, trying to figure out what I saw. I can’t shake those eyes, those terrible, yellow eyes, watching me from the shadows. I didn’t even see its full form, and that’s what scares me the most. I saw just a fraction of it—a glimpse—and it was enough to make me sick with fear.
What happens when it decides to show the rest of itself?
I think that pale creature from last night was just a warning, a test. But this? This is different. This one feels like the real threat. And I don’t know how long I have before it decides to come back.
Missouri feels like another planet right now. I would give anything to be back there, where the only things watching you are the stars. But here... here it feels like the island itself is alive, like the trees and the ground and the sky are all in on some terrible secret.
And I’m stuck right in the middle of it
#entertainment
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Kodiak Island, Alaska, USA—a quiet, friendly, and welcoming place for tourists. But for people like me? Living on Kodiak Island is like living on the edge every day. The only thing I have to document my experiences on this island is this dusty old Goodwill Chromebook I just bought after my five-day trip to Missouri. Now, I can record everything that happens on this deadly soil. I’ve lived here for maybe seven years, and I have a lot of stories, but I’ll share them in a different post. For now, I just want to document everything that happens here.
I don’t know how much longer I can stay here. I haven’t felt safe on this island for years, but last night—it was something else. Something I can’t explain, something that still has my hands shaking. I need to write this down while it’s fresh, before the fear swallows the details.
It started just before sundown, around 5 p.m. I was sitting by the window, drinking coffee, staring out at the treeline like I always do. There’s something about those trees that’s never felt right, like they’re hiding secrets, things I’m not supposed to see. But last night, I did see something.
At first, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me—light fading, shadows stretching, maybe a bear moving between the trees. We get those all the time. But this wasn’t a bear. No, it was too tall. Way too tall. And its fur wasn’t dark; it was this sickly, pale white that seemed to glow against the dimming sky. I told myself it was nothing, just fog catching the last of the light, but deep down, I knew better. I could feel it. Something was watching me.
I leaned closer to the window, squinting into the dusk, hoping I was wrong. That’s when it moved. Not like an animal—there was no hesitation, no fear. It moved deliberately, like it wanted me to see it. It stepped out from behind the trees, and I swear, my heart stopped. It stood on two legs, towering, its body covered in long, matted fur that clung to its skin in clumps. Its face—god, I don’t even know how to describe it. Like a bird, but wrong. So wrong. Its eyes... they were fixed on me, unblinking, like it could see straight into my soul.
I froze. I’ve faced some dangerous things on this island—bears, storms, the isolation—but nothing like this. My mind screamed at me to run, to hide, but I couldn’t move. I was trapped in its gaze, as if I’d been swallowed by the cold air outside. It didn’t move toward me, didn’t growl or make any sound. It just stood there, watching, its eyes never leaving mine.
I don’t know what came over me, but I grabbed a handful of rocks from the porch and threw them as hard as I could. I don’t know why. What did I think a few rocks would do against something like that? They hit the ground near its feet, but it didn’t even flinch. It just... raised its hand. And that’s when I saw it.
Thick, purple liquid oozed from its fingers, dripping onto the ground with this low, sickening hiss. The smell hit me like a punch to the gut—putrid, rotting, like something long dead. My stomach churned, and I nearly gagged. But I couldn’t look away. I was locked in this silent, awful exchange, just me and that thing.
And then it did something I’ll never forget. It smiled. Not a normal smile. Its beak, or whatever you want to call it, curled unnaturally, as if it knew exactly how terrified I was. I could feel my skin crawl, the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to get inside, but my feet were glued to the ground, my heart slamming against my ribs.
I don’t know how long we stood there, me frozen, it dripping that awful liquid, but suddenly I snapped out of it. I don’t even remember turning, but I found myself sprinting back into the house, slamming the door shut so hard the walls shook. I locked every window, every door, double-checked the locks—my hands trembling so bad I could barely manage it.
I looked at the clock. It was 5:08. I had only been outside for a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity. My heart was racing, my mind spinning with questions I didn’t want the answers to.
I didn’t sleep much after that. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw its face, those eyes, that smile. I stayed up until exhaustion took me, and when I finally woke up this morning... the window was open. And smeared across my door, in thick, dripping streaks, was that same purple liquid. The smell still lingers in the air.
It’s watching me. I know it is.
I can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming for me. Last night was bad enough with that pale, bird-like thing at the treeline, but what I saw today? It’s on a whole other level. And the worst part? I didn’t even see all of it. Just enough to know I’m in deep, deep trouble.
It started around 4:30 p.m. was still trying to convince myself that maybe the creature from last night was just some strange animal, maybe a trick of the light, but deep down, I knew better. It’s been seven years on this island, and things have always been... off. But today, it was different. Much worse.
I heard it before I saw it. A dragging, scraping sound coming from the woods, slow and deliberate, like something was pulling itself through the dirt. It was louder than anything I’d heard out here before—heavier. I didn’t want to check. I should’ve stayed inside, but I couldn’t stop myself. My curiosity got the better of me. I needed to know what it was. I grabbed my flashlight and stepped outside, already feeling the chill in the air, like the island was warning me to stay put.
The woods were darker than they should’ve been. Clouds had rolled in, and everything felt... wrong. Still, I walked closer to the treeline, sweeping my flashlight over the underbrush, searching for movement. That’s when I saw it—scales. Huge, shiny, black scales, catching the last bit of light from the dying sun.
I froze. Whatever those scales belonged to, it was big. Really big. I could hear it moving, slow and deliberate, but I couldn’t see all of it. Just the shifting glint of scales as they disappeared behind trees, as if the creature was staying just out of view on purpose.
My flashlight flickered, and for a second, I thought I’d lose it completely, but then the light stabilized—and that’s when I saw **them**. Two eyes, staring at me from just beyond the trees.
They weren’t like any animal’s eyes I’ve ever seen. They were too large, glowing faintly in the darkness, like embers in a dying fire. Deep yellow, with a strange intelligence behind them. They didn’t blink, didn’t shift away. Just locked on me. Watching. Waiting.
The rest of the creature—its body, its face—was hidden in the shadows. I could only make out the shape of its head, broad and looming, but it was like the darkness clung to it, like it didn’t want to be seen. But those eyes—they burned through the black, pinning me where I stood.
I felt this wave of nausea hit me, like its gaze alone was enough to make me sick. I didn’t understand how, but I knew, deep down, that this thing wasn’t just watching me. It was sizing me up. I could feel its focus on me, almost like it was trying to decide if I was worth the trouble. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I couldn’t look away.
It didn’t move closer, not yet. But I could see its scales shifting again, just beyond the reach of my flashlight, massive and smooth, catching the dim light like polished stone. The way it moved was almost hypnotic, slow and deliberate, like it knew it didn’t need to rush. It was in control.
Then, it let out this low, rumbling sound, like a growl, but deeper. I could feel it in my bones, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. The trees shuddered around me, leaves falling like a soft rain. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I took a step back, my legs shaking, the beam of my flashlight wobbling. That’s when I saw it—just the briefest glimpse of its face. Not the whole thing, not even enough to describe, but just a flash as it shifted in the shadows. It had a face, alright. I’m sure of it. But what I saw... it was wrong. It was too smooth, too sleek, like it wasn’t finished, or like it was wearing a mask. And its mouth—god, I only caught a second of it, but it was enough. The way its jaw hung open, too wide, like it could swallow me whole in one bite.
I stumbled back toward the house, nearly tripping over my own feet. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the creature, even though the darkness was swallowing it whole again. Those eyes, though. They never left me. They glowed faintly, like embers, burning into me even as I backed away.
Just before I slammed the door behind me, I heard it again—the scraping sound. Louder this time, closer. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in a hurry. It didn’t need to be. It knew where I was. It wasn’t hunting like an animal. No, this thing was patient. It knew I’d come out again eventually.
Once inside, I locked the door, though I know it won’t make a difference. If it wanted to get in, it could. Easy. I’ve been pacing ever since, trying to figure out what I saw. I can’t shake those eyes, those terrible, yellow eyes, watching me from the shadows. I didn’t even see its full form, and that’s what scares me the most. I saw just a fraction of it—a glimpse—and it was enough to make me sick with fear.
What happens when it decides to show the rest of itself?
I think that pale creature from last night was just a warning, a test. But this? This is different. This one feels like the real threat. And I don’t know how long I have before it decides to come back.
Missouri feels like another planet right now. I would give anything to be back there, where the only things watching you are the stars. But here... here it feels like the island itself is alive, like the trees and the ground and the sky are all in on some terrible secret.
And I’m stuck right in the middle of it
#entertainment
source
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