The Backward Prints

Last winter I was driving through Navajo territory when my car died on an empty

road. No lights, just silence. I stepped out and heard footsteps

matching mine exactly. They followed. I spun around. Nothing. But then I

saw the prints. Human shaped, but toes pointing backwards. My grandfather warned

me about this. Skinwalkers. I jumped back in and the engine roared.

As I peeled out, an impossibly tall figure stood in the road,

watching me leave. The dashcam footage was empty, but on the audio,

there is breathing. Right next to me.