llow their religion. Nor does it mean they have the right…
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llow their religion.
Nor does it mean they have the right to impose their religion on others.
#religion ut 40 minutes outside a small town. Desert. Open land. No streetlights. At night it’s just wind and coyotes.
I never believed in anything paranormal. Not ghosts. Not skinwalkers. Especially not skinwalkers. I always thought that was just something the internet grabbed onto without understanding the culture behind it.
This happened last October.
My parents were out of town, so I was alone at the house. Around 11 p.m., I took the trash out to the barrel at the edge of our property. We keep it about 50 yards from the house because of animals.
It was quiet. Too quiet, but that’s normal out there.
Halfway back to the house, I heard a coyote.
Not unusual.
Except it wasn’t howling.
It was calling out in short bursts.
Almost like it was trying to say something.
I stopped walking. The sound was coming from behind the fence line, maybe 30 feet away in the dark.
Then I heard it.
“Hey.”
My blood went cold.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive.
It sounded like my older brother.
My brother lives in Phoenix.
I didn’t move.
The voice came again, from the same direction as the coyote.
“Can you help me?”
Same tone. Same cadence he uses when he’s trying not to laugh.
I felt this overwhelming instinct not to answer. Not to even breathe loud.
The coyotes in the distance had completely stopped.
The desert was silent.
Then I saw it.
There was something standing just beyond the fence. I couldn’t see it clearly — just a shape darker than the dark around it.
It was too tall to be a coyote.
Too thin to be a person.
It was still. Completely still.
Then it tilted its head.
Slow. Sharp.
Like it was trying to mimic curiosity.
And in my brother’s voice, perfectly calm, it said:
“You can come closer.”
That’s when I ran.
I don’t even remember unlocking the door. I just remember slamming it and locking every deadbolt.
About 20 seconds later, I heard footsteps outside.
Not paws.
Footsteps.
Slowly walking along the side of the house.
Then stopping directly outside the living room window.
The blinds were closed. Thank God they were closed.
I heard a soft knock on the glass.
Three taps.
Then, in my mom’s voice this time:
“Open the door.”
I was shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone. I called my dad. No answer. I called my neighbor. Straight to voicemail.
The knocking stopped.
Then I heard something dragging along the siding of the house, like nails or something hard scraping the wall as it moved away.
After about five minutes, the coyotes started howling again.
Like nothing had happened.
I didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, I went outside with my neighbor.
We found footprints along the side of the house.
They looked almost human.
But the stride was wrong.
Too far apart.
And near the fence line, mixed with the prints, were coyote tracks.
Side by side.
Walking together.
I don’t tell people this in real life because I know how it sounds.
But I know what I heard.
And the part that still messes with me?
It never once tried to force its way in.
It just wanted me to answer.
And if I had stepped closer to that fence when it used my brother’s voice…
I don’t think I’d be writing this.
#entertainment
source GeForce RTX 5090 user caps power at 500W, still sees burned 12V-2x6 adapter
#hardware #technology
Nor does it mean they have the right to impose their religion on others.
#religion ut 40 minutes outside a small town. Desert. Open land. No streetlights. At night it’s just wind and coyotes.
I never believed in anything paranormal. Not ghosts. Not skinwalkers. Especially not skinwalkers. I always thought that was just something the internet grabbed onto without understanding the culture behind it.
This happened last October.
My parents were out of town, so I was alone at the house. Around 11 p.m., I took the trash out to the barrel at the edge of our property. We keep it about 50 yards from the house because of animals.
It was quiet. Too quiet, but that’s normal out there.
Halfway back to the house, I heard a coyote.
Not unusual.
Except it wasn’t howling.
It was calling out in short bursts.
Almost like it was trying to say something.
I stopped walking. The sound was coming from behind the fence line, maybe 30 feet away in the dark.
Then I heard it.
“Hey.”
My blood went cold.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t aggressive.
It sounded like my older brother.
My brother lives in Phoenix.
I didn’t move.
The voice came again, from the same direction as the coyote.
“Can you help me?”
Same tone. Same cadence he uses when he’s trying not to laugh.
I felt this overwhelming instinct not to answer. Not to even breathe loud.
The coyotes in the distance had completely stopped.
The desert was silent.
Then I saw it.
There was something standing just beyond the fence. I couldn’t see it clearly — just a shape darker than the dark around it.
It was too tall to be a coyote.
Too thin to be a person.
It was still. Completely still.
Then it tilted its head.
Slow. Sharp.
Like it was trying to mimic curiosity.
And in my brother’s voice, perfectly calm, it said:
“You can come closer.”
That’s when I ran.
I don’t even remember unlocking the door. I just remember slamming it and locking every deadbolt.
About 20 seconds later, I heard footsteps outside.
Not paws.
Footsteps.
Slowly walking along the side of the house.
Then stopping directly outside the living room window.
The blinds were closed. Thank God they were closed.
I heard a soft knock on the glass.
Three taps.
Then, in my mom’s voice this time:
“Open the door.”
I was shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone. I called my dad. No answer. I called my neighbor. Straight to voicemail.
The knocking stopped.
Then I heard something dragging along the siding of the house, like nails or something hard scraping the wall as it moved away.
After about five minutes, the coyotes started howling again.
Like nothing had happened.
I didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, I went outside with my neighbor.
We found footprints along the side of the house.
They looked almost human.
But the stride was wrong.
Too far apart.
And near the fence line, mixed with the prints, were coyote tracks.
Side by side.
Walking together.
I don’t tell people this in real life because I know how it sounds.
But I know what I heard.
And the part that still messes with me?
It never once tried to force its way in.
It just wanted me to answer.
And if I had stepped closer to that fence when it used my brother’s voice…
I don’t think I’d be writing this.
#entertainment
source GeForce RTX 5090 user caps power at 500W, still sees burned 12V-2x6 adapter
#hardware #technology
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