“Shift Changers”

January 7, 2010 at 12:32 am 1 comment

Source: Reddit

This is not some Bel Air or other bullshit. I wouldn’t waste your time like that. This happened about twenty years ago, and I’ve thought about it a lot since then.

I was in San Francisco, and I was basically sleeping in Golden Gate Park at night. I was “homeless” there for a couple months…but, I was really just a fucked-up kid screwing around I suppose. That part’s not very relevant to the story.

Anyway, I met tons of kids when I was out there, and they were mostly a pretty interesting, fucked-up bunch of people. We used to hang in the park and drink some Blue Bull, and there were a lot of punk rockers on the scene. It was a lot of fun.

Anyway, I hooked up with this fucked-up blond runaway girl one night. She gave me a tour of the park and was talking all kinds of crazy bullshit about how lots of acid was dumped in the pond and how there are people (whom she called shift changers) who were capable of changing into animals. And, according to her, there were people (whom she called hunters) who were trying to kill the shift changers.

Anyway, I thought she was wacked-out from probably doing too much acid, but, you know…I wanted to fuck her. So, I pretended to believe her, but she could tell that I didn’t. So, she says, “I’m going to find Firefly and prove it to you.”

So, she starts taking me all over the park that night, and we approach this guy with a beard who’s got saliva dripping off his chin. We’re at the edge of the woods, and he’s lit up by the moonlight. I’m now nervous, because I think I might be getting set-up to get jacked.

The girl says to Firefly, “This is my friend, and he doesn’t believe. Will you show him?”

Now, I’m definitely thinking this is a sketchy fuck of a situation, and I sort of patted the tear gas canister in my pocket to make sure it was there.

This crazy fuck of a Firefly gets up in my face, and I see the drool dangling. He’s got on a short-sleeve tye die t shirt and he sticks his arm out.

“Believe in shift changers,” he says. “Believe in shift changers.”

I look at his arm, and I swear I see his arm transform into a hairy, animal limb. That freaked my mind out good and proper. I said, “I believe you man.” I bailed. I didn’t see either one of them any more after that.

Since that experience, I’ve doubted what I saw many times. I still do. But, I did see it.

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Entry filed under: Scary, Weird.

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1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. edgeofgrace  |  January 7, 2010 at 1:25 pm

    Here’s another story from the same thread.

    When I was 13 my parents sent me to Manitoba for the summer to spend time with my uncle’s family and my grandparents. The family owns a cattle farm in the middle of nowhere with acres and acres of land (land is cheap there, I’m told). It was a huge, beautiful farmstead home with an awesome old styled wood stove in the kitchen. The first few weeks I spent at the farm I was pretty bored, but as the summer wore on I grew to enjoy the daily routine of chores, awesome country food, and getting to know my family better.

    I had never really spent much time with them prior to this, so it was the first time as a teen that I’d gotten to really converse with them and learn about them. One of the first thing I noticed about my family was that they had a very serious nature – everything was very down to earth and serious with them. They had little use for idle chat, jokes, and foolery. I don’t mean to give the impression that they weren’t nice people, quite the opposite, they were just very honest and down to earth. The whole community actually shared a similar vibe. These were people who were not prone to “flights of fancy”.

    Anyhow, after the first month or so my older cousins began to find tracks of a large animal around the pastures. Neither them, my uncle, or my grandfather were able to identify what the animal was and I remember thinking that it was odd that they were making such a big deal out of these footprints whenever we would come across them. They didn’t seem overly concerned, and I didn’t think much of it at the time.

    A few weeks later while I was outside reading one afternoon, one of my cousins came tearing back from the pasture on his quad. A minute later he and my uncle came running out of the house, my uncle brandishing a rifle. They took off on the quad again as my grandpa joined me on the porch. I asked what was wrong and he indicated that an animal had gotten one of the cows, and they were going to try to track it before it got too far away. Finally, I thought to myself, some excitement!

    They came back after a few hours and were unsuccessful in their hunt. A few nights later a calf was found dead and partially eaten by the watering pond. This was enough for my uncle, and he and my cousins set off to round the cattle up to be penned until they could find whatever was killing them. This, incidentally, led to several sleepless nights as sleeping within a mile of hundreds on hundreds of penned cows is not an easy task for a city kid.

    My uncle had called in some wildlife officials to have a look and to be compensated for the dead animals. They spent what seemed to be hours at the deadstock pile looking at the killed cows, taking pictures, and talking. Eventually an RCMP car pulled up and they too took pictures and measurements. My uncle seemed happy at the end as he was going to be paid for the animals, and the wildlife people were going to send men out to look for the animal responsible for the killings.

    A few nights later while trying to sleep in the midst of the noise of hundreds of cows moving, mooing, breathing, and shitting, I heard something unusual.. at first a faint rustling sound, but it quickly grew into the sound of a stampede. The cows were running around in the pens, something had spooked them. I heard my uncle and cousins getting out of bed quickly, and they came flying down the stairs. My uncle grabbed his rifle and my cousins grabbed shotguns and they jumped on quads and took off to the pens.

    My grandpa had come town to the livingroom where I slept and sat with me, not saying much at all. After about 15 minutes we heard a gunshot. Within a few seconds we heard another.. then another.. then another. Half a dozen shots within a minute were heard.. then silence.

    10 minutes later we could hear the engines of the quads getting closer. The group of them arrived together and my grandpa went out to meet them on the porch. I heard them speaking muffled through the door in a quick, low voice. My grandpa came back in and instructed me to go upstairs with my grandmother. The look on his face told me that this was not a time for discussion, so I went upstairs.

    Before I went into my grandmothers room I stopped in the hallway for a few minutes where there is an air vent from the main floor to the upstairs that opens right beside the kitchen. I could hear them talking in quick whispers, not quite able to pick up the words. Eventually I heard what sounded to be my uncle sobbing, and then someone vomited. I was scared and not sure what was happening so I ran into my grandmas room and jumped into bed with her.

    The next morning my uncle slept late which was VERY unusual. My grandfather and my cousins refused to talk about what had happened at all, and any inquires I made were quickly met with a stern “mind your own business”. Later on that day they were dragging two cows to the deadstock pile and the animals were absolutely mutilated – guts hanging out, limbs gone, etc.

    For the next two weeks until I left my uncle and cousins wern’t talking much and my grandpa kept me very busy with chores so I didn’t have a chance to talk to anyone about what had happened.

    Fast forward about 10 years later, my grandpa passed away and my parents and husband and I went to Manitoba for the funeral. We stayed for a week and I finally had a chance to talk to my cousin about what had happened. At first he wouldn’t talk about it, but then one night after dinner and drinks we were sitting on the patio and he opened up about it.

    The events as described to me: When they drove off to get the animal that was spooking the cattle they split up, my uncle on one quad and my cousins on another. They both went around opposite ends of the pen in case the animal ran off. My uncle got off of his quad to be able to approach quieter and he saw it first, it was on top of a cow eating and it began to run off when my uncle got close. My uncle fired once and hit the animal, and it collapsed outside of the pen. My cousins then got closer and with the headlights of the quad they got a fairly good look at it.. they said they couldn’t tell if it was a bear or a wolf, but it was hairy and about 5 feet long.

    They all approached the animal slowly as it wasn’t moving, and when they were within 10 feet of it it suddenly jumped up.. on two legs.. and darted off into the night. They all opened fire a few times after it. Not knowing what it was they wanted to make sure it was dead. They all got back on the quads to track it.

    They followed the animal for a few minutes and found it again down on the ground seemingly dead. Only what they found wasn’t an animal. It was a naked young girl with a bullet hole in her abdomen, seemingly dead.

    At this point panic set in, my cousins wanted to collect the girl and bring her to the house and get a doctor, by my uncle began screaming at them in a frenzy to leave it alone and go home. My cousin said this was the first and only time they heard my uncle use the f-word. They obeyed and headed back to the house, stopping short to wait for him if they heard anything else. 10 minutes later my uncle reached them and told them to go inside. My grandpa met them on the porch, and my uncle exchanged words with him and at that point they both instructed my cousins to not speak a word of what happened to anyone ever.

    The next day he said that the body of the girl/animal was no where to be found, but the tracks and killings stopped from then on. He also said for about 3 months my uncle wasn’t quite his usual self but he eventually came around. My cousins never had the courage to bring up what had happened that night with my uncle or grandpa again, but they talked about it between the two of them occasionally and are still quite freaked out and confused by what they saw.

    I don’t know what to make of it personally, but I know that what I did see that night matches up with the story my cousin told. My husband was also seriously freaked out when my cousin told this story as he’d heard my side of it before, and my cousin had this serious/frightened look on his face as we spoke about it.

    Reply

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