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I’m not sure how long it took me to realize something was off. One minute, I was second-to-last in our little procession, the next, I noticed the absence of Christine’s footsteps. When I turned around, she was gone. Not off in the distance or taking a break, just … gone.
“Skinwalker Ranch is a ranch in Northeast Utah where in the 90s the owners reported weird phenomena like giant wolf-like creatures attacking their cattle and taking multiple rifle shots without flinching, then apparently vanishing into thin air, floating orbs of light, bigfoot-like creatures, and cattle mutilations.”
I could see it moving. The separation, I mean. Slowly, like the motion of the sun setting on the horizon. It was subtle, but it was definitely moving down. That’s when I realized that humming sound from this morning was getting even louder.