These shares involve property damage—structures, vehicles, or belongings harmed in ways witnesses treat as intentional.
Common threads are bent, broken, or destroyed property and the message that sends. Browse these shares for damage-centered reports.
Back in the late 1990s, Joseph was staying alone overnight to guard supplies at an unfinished family cabin along the remote Nushagak River. The cabin was still under construction, lacking finished window panes and leaving open, rough-framed cutouts directly into the wilderness. As dusk fell, Joseph heard an unsettling, unusually loud howl echoing miles away that sounded like a poor imitation of a wolf. Within an hour, the unnatural howling had closed the distance, sounding less than 200 yards away from the cut bank before falling dead, unnervingly silent.
Six years ago, Jesse, a cannery worker from Dillingham, decided to spend his final week in Alaska fly fishing along Silver Salmon Creek. Setting off from Aleknagik Road with a collapsible rod, he hiked deep into the dense brush, catching and releasing silver salmon. On his second night, while frying up a small salmon at his spike camp, he heard a low, dog-like woof echoing from the distance. Later, while fishing a deep eddy, the forest fell completely dead and silent, and he spotted a large, brown mass lurking on the opposite bank.
While navigating the Nushagak River near Henry Slough (just south of New Stuyahok) roughly ten years ago, two hunters portaged their skiff into a narrow, muddy backchannel to scout for moose. After successfully dropping a massive bull with a single shot from the bank, the hunters sat down for a celebratory cigarette before the grueling task of field dressing it. Their break was interrupted by a deep, guttural grunt echoing from the nearby willows. Believing it was a second, agitated bull moose, the hunters crept closer, hoping to drop a second animal and save themselves an extra trip.
A native resident named Mike joins Fred to share personal encounters and ancestral accounts passed down from his grandfather on a remote, treeless island in the Bering Sea. His grandfather recounted an ancient tribal incident where a rogue hairy man stole nine village children before being tracked and killed by a shaman. Beyond the hairy man lore, Mike details widespread modern encounters with the "little people"—powerful, elusive beings whose tiny footprints frequently appear around village homes, stolen dry-meat racks, and out onto the Bering Sea sea ice.
A family vacation took a terrifying turn when Walter, Bernice, and their adult son Michael were towing a 16-foot toy hauler up the remote Taylor Highway. Approaching the bridge over the Mosquito Fork of the 40-Mile River, they spotted three massive figures crossing the road ahead. Initially mistaking them for fly fishermen dragging rod tubes, the family was shocked to realize the figures were nearly nine feet tall—and appeared to have thick, four-foot-long tails.
In 1978, Eric and two friends from the Tongass National Forest cruiser team took their two-week leave to camp and explore the pristine wilderness around Powers Creek, located in the ominous Tracy Arm-Fords Terror Wilderness of Southeast Alaska. On their second day, the peacefulness of their trip was shattered by a hellacious scream originating further down the Endicott Arm inlet. Dismissing it at first, the three unarmed men returned to camp to find their belongings strangely shifted and toyed with.
In the late 1970s, retired oilfield worker Johnathan and his then-wife were travelling down the AlCan Highway in their RV and decided to pull over at a rest stop, where a Sasquatch began to open the roof and reach into the vehicle. With is wife hiding under the bed, Johnathan began to look for his machete to hack at the arm. After a loud whistle in the distance, the Sasquatch attacking the RV stopped and left, along with footsteps of others who were also outside.
Inspired by legendary wilderness survivalists, Jacob set out to hand-build a remote homestead cabin near Lake Clark, north of Iliamna. What began as a peaceful five-year plan slowly unraveled over three seasons. In year three, the subtle harassment escalated into a targeted siege. After returning from a hike to find fresh, massive footprints heading directly down the trail toward his campsite, Jacob found his canvas tent smashed and his partially constructed log cabin violently twisted off its foundation.
