A man patrolling his own land in rural Western Washington says he looked up from under an old cedar and saw a human-shaped ripple in the air, about 15 feet off the ground. His account first appeared on Lon Strickler’s Phantoms & Monsters blog on March 22, 2017. Author Rosemary Ellen Guiley later followed up with the witness, whom she calls “Ben” to protect his identity.
Why He Was Out There
The property is heavily wooded and hilly, with a creek, a swamp, and a ravine. In late July 2016, Ben began making patrols with a rifle after learning that drug addicts, some of them violent, were trying to get onto the land. He found tracks at the bottom of the hill and even claimed a gas can. He says he is hard to scare and has been through a good deal.
The Cedar
In early August, on a routine patrol, he passed an ancient cedar he had walked by countless times and suddenly felt he should sit beneath it. He set down his rifle and pack and sat in the stillness, and he fell into a calm, zen-like state where everything seemed fine. When he opened his eyes and looked toward a grove of alders, he saw a humanoid shape about 15 feet up. It had the outline of a head, neck, and shoulders, and nothing discernible below, just fading away. He compares it to the cloaked creature in the Predator films, and says that at its edges it was as if reality itself were embossed in that shape. Guiley describes it as rippled air.
After three to five seconds, overwhelming dread and anxiety hit him. He wiped his glasses on his shirt, and the shape was still there. Then he began counting down from five in his head. At zero he grabbed his rifle and pack, sprinted for home, and said a quick prayer on the way. Nothing followed him, and nothing showed up at the house.
The Aftermath
A friend who follows Heathen traditions suggested he had met a forest wight, a guardian type of being, and others advised leaving an offering of food. He avoided the area for a while, then returned in September 2016 with food and water. The dread built again, though not as strongly, and he did not see the shape, but he felt it. He talked out loud, explained he was protecting the property, and asked that nothing follow him home.
Around then he found an L-shaped hole about 75 feet from the cedar. It was cleanly made, not like something an animal digs, and he first noted it on September 3, 2016. Later he found two long gashes in the earth beside it, each about two feet long and a boot wide, as if someone had dug in a heel and dragged it. He believes the presence seemed tied to an area of roughly 300 feet around the spot.
The January Return
In January 2017 he went back to photograph the gouges. This time the anxiety started on his porch and grew with every step, until it matched his first encounter. He noted the temperature leaving the house at about 55 to 57 degrees Fahrenheit, and it fell to an estimated 42 to 44 as he approached the hole. While he took photos, a strong wind rose, about 30 to 40 miles per hour by his feel, at the bottom of a ravine surrounded by wind-blocking old-growth trees. He got out fast and again said that whatever was there did not have permission to follow him back.
Those photos were lost to a file corruption. He had sent one to a friend in Florida first. It showed gray, overcast woods with nothing unusual in it, but the friend said just looking at it gave them an unexplained feeling of dread. As of the end of March 2017, the hole and gashes had begun to fill in with leaves and debris, he still sensed a presence, and he had not seen the shape again. A friend he brought along felt nothing.
What to Make of It
Guiley’s headline asks whether a djinn lurks in Western Washington, and she notes that the area has a history of strange sightings and unexplained lights. That fits the pattern of dread, sudden cold, and gear that fails around these cases. I will say I lean about 70 percent open, because the account is specific, calmly told, and Ben is not selling anything.
The cautious side is easy to state. He was alone, armed, on edge about violent trespassers, and had just slid into a deeply relaxed state, the kind of setting where a trick of light in the branches can turn into a figure. The hole could be a human or animal dig, and a wind gust and cold pocket in a ravine are not unheard of. But the lost photos, the shared dread, and the way the experience kept repeating at one spot are what stay with me. This is one of the more thoughtful translucent humanoid accounts I have read.
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