Yellowstone Ghost Stories
Table of Contents
Rae's Story
A woman named Suzanne was a volunteer search and rescue worker in the Yosemite area of California. She got a call one day to join a search for a missing man named Kevin. Kevin had left his group for the privacy of the woods when nature called… and had never returned. His family had searched around for a while, but finally retreated back to the trailhead and contacted Park Rangers for help.
By the time Suzanne’s team was assembled, night was falling. They planned to create a camp, hold a briefing, and then sleep until first light when they would resume the search. Kevin’s case was complicated by the fact that he was an older man, suffering from dementia. He was in good physical shape and did have a backpack with some layers and supplies on him. It was assumed he would be fine for one night. IF his disease didn’t cause him to make dangerous choices in his confusion. This particular area was a mixture of thick forest and rocky outcroppings. A person who is thinking clearly would come upon a cliff and look for a safer way down. Someone with a mental illness might just try to take what seems to be the fastest and most direct route, descending a treacherous rock face instead. Suzanne’s group set their alarms, wished Kevin good luck, and went to sleep.
In the morning, the searchers hiked in to Kevin’s last known location. Then, they created a circle and began to fan out in all directions. As the circle grew, Suzanne’s teammates faded from line of sight. She kept up a rhythmic pattern of calling out, “Kevin!”, but the trees and underbrush seemed to simply swallow up the sound. She would pause and listen for a response before walking ahead. A few times, she swore she heard an answer. But it was just the echoing voices of her partners calling, “Kevin!” when the sound would suddenly travel further than usual.
At every gap in the forest, where a rock formation would create a clearing, Suzanne would use the opportunity to scan a larger area and project her voice without the dampening effect of the trees. “Kevin!” She made sure to always look directly down, just in case Kevin’s body would be lying beneath.
Suzanne’s party leader checked in around lunch time via her radio. No luck so far. The supervisor reminded Suzanne that her turn around time was quickly approaching. The team was directed to be back at camp by dark. By now the searchers were spread pretty thin. In order to search a new line on their way back in, each member moved to their right and then proceeded back towards the center point. At this point, they were looking for any sign of Kevin’s passing. That way, they would know which trajectory to search the following morning. Suzanne continued scanning the ground for footprints, broken underbrush, articles from his pack that he might have left behind, trash, anything that would guide their search the next day.
And, she continued calling, “Kevin!”
As she moved closer and closer to her starting point, she eyed an exceptionally large cliff that she suspected would have been missed by the spread apart searchers. She radioed in to inform her supervisor that she would be making a slight detour to check out this feature. The response was not pleased, as the sun was already setting. Suzanne refused to pass it up. This could have been a focal point, drawing Kevin’s attention. It could also have been where he met his demise at its base. If nothing else, it would provide Suzanne with a clear line of sight for a good distance, perhaps revealing something important.
Suzanne bushwhacked her way closer, sweat shining on her forehead despite the falling temperatures. While the rescue team had been fairly confident that Kevin would survive his first night alone, the coming darkness would bring much colder weather. In the morning, the search would probably turn to a body retrieval, rather than a rescue.
Suzanne could see the opening in the trees at the top of the cliff, when suddenly a massive owl came swooping out of the canopy and landed on a stump in front of her, blocking her path. As a recreator and a rescue worker, Suzanne had spent a fair amount of time in the forest and had seen her share of its creatures. But this owl was something else entirely. She had never seen one so big or so bold. Its giant, round, yellow eyes never blinked. She felt she couldn’t look anywhere else, pulled in some hypnotic trance towards those eyes. The owl never rustled a feather, never made a sound. Just stared. Now Suzanne began to feel the cold.
Perhaps that freezing sensation was what finally pulled enough of her attention away from the eyes that she could blink and look away. Making a wide circle around the bird, Suzanne attempted to pass and reach the clearing ahead.
The owl’s head turned all the way around, watching her pass.
Suzanne resisted the urge to look behind her to see what the owl was doing now. She focused on the job at hand. She fearfully looked down first and was relieved to see no broken body below. Then she scanned the surrounding area, looking for a color besides grey and brown and green. Looking for movement.
Nothing.
Gathering up all her frustration, the unshakable eerie feeling from the owl, and her fear for Kevin in the coming night, she screamed, “Kevin!” one last time.
And listened…
“Here I am,” came the soft, conversational response, just off to her side.
And there he was! Looking dirty and dehydrated, but otherwise unharmed, there sat Kevin, seemingly just checking out the scenic sunset.
Suzanne swallowed her surprise. She calmly gave her name and explained to Kevin that his family was looking for him. She was here to help him. With dementia, he might have been afraid of her and even tried to run away rather than follow her to safety. Thankfully, that was not the case. He calmly followed her back down to where the searchers were prepping a first aid station for him.
The owl was no where to be seen.
Suzanne helped provide Kevin with water and some food and warm clothes. They got him settled into a sleeping bag on a cot under the watchful eye of his son who had stayed at the searcher’s camp.
Suzanne stayed up for a celebratory campfire with her team. They each recounted their day, although mostly they wanted to hear Suzanne’s story of success. As she told it, she omitted the part with the owl. She didn’t want to sound overly dramatic.
Her friends slowly dispersed to their own sleeping bags. It had been a long day. But Suzanne stayed up, stirring the coals for a while. She couldn’t get her mind off the owl and the pull she had felt towards those eyes. She reflected on the stories her grandmother had told her, imparting Dine (Navajo) heritage and wisdom to the next generation.
In the stories, the owl was always a symbol of death.
And that’s when Suzanne understood. Death had been watching Kevin, there on that cliff edge with darkness falling.
As Suzanne had approached, the owl attempted to block her path, force her to turn around, look elsewhere. Perhaps even, with the pull of those eyes, Death could have taken 2 people that night.
Suzanne wrapped her arms around herself against a sudden chill.
She only hoped that she wouldn’t someday have to pay for saving someone that Death had so clearly marked for himself.
BJ's Story
Time Warp Tunnel and the Haunted Woods (Estes Park and Stanley Hotel)- From the book Colorado Legends and Lore by Stephanie Waters
News flash: the woods around Estes Park are cursed by carnivorous mists, as well as legions of ancient spirits. But don’t let that scare you away because the area is resplendent with natural beauty. The first written account of its mysteries began in September 1885, when a team of engineers went scouting through Rocky Mountain National Park looking for a new route for the railroad. The party was led by the distinguished Colonel Joseph T. Boyd, who was the founding father of Golden and secretary to the governor of Colorado. The explorers made camp near the railroad hub of Lyons and then set out on horseback toward the village of Estes Park. Boyd was immediately drawn to a large rock wall that seemed impregnable until the men discovered a hidden tunnel. Their timid horses refused to enter the dark abyss, so the adventurous party ventured through on foot.
Once inside the dark passageway, they began hearing haunting voices and hideous shrieks of laughter. Quaking with fear, the engineers were urged to retreat, but a strange force compelled them to push forward. At the end of the passageway, they were welcomed by a tropical paradise, which seemed unfathomable, considering the dry, arid climate they’d come from. After lunch, the curious explorers ventured into a nearby cave. Stumbling through the darkness, they finally reached a large cavern illuminated by a strange, ethereal light, and in the center of the room was a mound of twinkling treasure surrounded by human skeletons! Being a scholarly man, Colonel Boyd examined the artifacts and reasoned that it was an ancient treasure tomb belonging to a great Aztec chief. But as Boyd reached for a nifty souvenir, the earth’s rumbling shook him to his knees. Suddenly, they were assaulted by blinding light, accompanied by an agonizing cacophony of horrific sounds. A thunderous voice trumpeted over the agonizing din, saying something in an ancient guttural language, likely warning, “Leave our holy sanctuary or die!” (No doubt, a few archaic cuss words were added to the mix for good measure.)
Once they stumbled out of the cave, a mysterious blue haze quickly enveloped everything in sight. Not a word was spoken as inhumane screams and growls closely followed them back to camp. But the next morning, everything was status quo, as if traveling through a time warp tunnel and being chased by hungry demons had never happened. Greedy for the unclaimed prize, the determined party spent the next few weeks searching for the mysterious rock wall, only to find disappointment. Had it all been just some sort of weird collective dream, or had they entered into another dimension? On October 7, 1885, baffling headlines for the Rocky Mountain News screamed:
A Marvelous Mystery: A Story of the Beautiful Saint Vrain Valley and Its Secrets, Which Has Never Been Solved
A Walled Park but with One Entrance; In Which Strange Things Were Seen And Horrible Voices Heard
Mysterious Caverns with Enormous Deposits of Mineral Wealth And Wonderful Features
By Some Apparent Enchantment The Whole Scene Vanishes Like a Strange and Beautiful Dream
Years later, on May 28, 1911 the Rocky Mountain News reported that Captain Boyd’s two grown sons continued the search for the time warp tunnel and treasure cave but that they were never found. Today, armchair historians believe this mystery happened on Old Man Mountain, which is now a protected archaeological site. An ancient Indian trail surrounds the mystical mountain, and rock formations resembling two gigantic heads guard the pathway. One of the ominous stone sentinels gazes to the south, and the other looks to the north. There are also many mysterious rock mounds scattered about the hillsides.
In 1911, reporters interviewed Arapahoe Indians and learned that the mysterious piles of rocks held sacred significance and that those who disturbed them would die from an ancient curse. To protect folks from the jinx, the State of Colorado wisely posted “No Trespassing” signs around the bottom of Old Man Mountain. But according to the 134 year old Elk Horn Guest Ranch, you can access trails to the mountain from its lodge outside Estes Park- if you’re willing to tempt fate!
But Old Man Mountain is not the only place the mists have been recorded- a local known as Miner Bill also saw them hovering over nearby Mount Captain. But Bill believed he was personally responsible for creating the weird phenomena. Apparently, the miner was digging near his cabin when he inadvertently dug up a bed of quartz. Once the crystals were unearthed, a creepy blue haze oozed over the mountains, and he began hearing plaintive howls wailing throughout the night. When the blanket lifted, it revealed a multitude of mutilated animals littering the slopes! Bill also found strange tripod hoof prints stamped into the snow and marked onto surround tree trunks, which he blamed on skin walkers. These ancient Indian spirits peeled fresh hides off animals and wore them as cloaks in order to shape-shift into that creature. Although Bill seemed as harmless as a church mouse, townies thought he was crazier than a a cross-eyed parrot- especially once he began drinking and ranting about carnivorous mists. Yet that is, until the old drunk wasn’t seen in Estes Park for a while, and they found Bill’s three beloved hound dogs ripped to shreds, surrounded by the same peculiar hoof prints that the enigma had warned about. Inside Miner Bill’s cabin, they found what was left of the misanthrope after the mystic haze got ahold of him. At least the oldesrter died a hero, since he tried to warn others about the carnivorous mists. because of the screwy old man’s brave sacrifice, the nearby YMCA camp named a rock formation “mind Bill’s Spire.” However, it was a dubious distinction considering the gigantic eyesore resembled a corkscrew. But no one was laughing when, shortly thereafter, the mists claimed yet another poor soul. On June 9, 1911, the Fort Collins Weekly Courier engaged readers with the bewildering headlines:
EASTERN MAN’S DEATH SHROUDED IN MYSTERY: Charles Jackson Found Dead Outside Cabin New Estes Park No Signs of Violence- Moved to Greely Last Year
The article is quoted as saying:
Mr. March said he heard Jackson getting up several times during the night, but was finally awakened by what the thought was a dog growling. He looked out the door and saw Jackson, apparently in great distress. He called to him and, getting no response, put on his clothes and hurriedly went out into the yard, when he found Jackson’s body lifeless… The Coroner was unable to detect any signs of violence or of suicide.
Sadly, the mystery was never solved, and the legend tells the blue mists still haunt the woods around Estes Park.
One can’t talk about the mysteries of Estes Park without mentioning the infamous Stanley Hotel, perched above the quant village. The historic lodge was the inspiration for Stephen King’s bestselling novel The Shining. No doubt, the legendary blue mists and ancient Indian spirits were inspirations for the book, making the Stanley world-renowned for its haunts. The historic hotel was built by Mr. F.O Stanley, who also happened to be the inventor of the Stanley Steamer automobile. He and his wife, Flora, established the luxurious resort after moving to Estes Park due to Mr. Stanley’s declining health. Could spirits of the Stanleys be lingering around their former home? Employees claim that haunting piano music can often be heard drifting from the music room late at night, which they attribute to the late Mrs. Stanley’s classically trained ghost. Kris Tennant and Mike Coletta, of Rocky Mountain Ghost Explorers, believe the spirit of Mrs. Stanley still hangs around, and they have posted evidence on their website. Kris caught a very detailed apparition of Flora on video, which formed from a mysterious blue mist. The mystical ectoplasm swirled into the apparition of a smiling women with very clear features, including her double-stranded necklace. Surprisingly, the ghost looked exactly like a nearby oil painting of Mrs. Flora Stanley, including her prized pearls. However, it’s not known if anyone heard hectic howling just before the mists formed, or if mutilated animals were ever found littering nearby hillsides. But Donnie Reed, a professional clairvoyant and radio personality known as the “Psychic X Journeyman,” believes that the mysterious blue mists are actually protective spirits of the so-called ancient ones. Donnie reasons that the supernatural phenomenon is responsible for suffocating many who have tramped on ancient hallowed ground. But no matter what you believe, it’s safe to say that there have long been mysterious shenanigans going on in that neck of the woods!
Diana's Story
(Found on Reddit, posted by MrGarm.)
Hello, my dear. You do not know who I am, but I know you. I am one of the three demons that were assigned to you at birth. You see, some people in this world are destined for greatness, destined to live happy, fulfilling lives. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people, and it is our job to make sure of that.
Who are we? Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce us:
Shame is my younger brother, the demon on your left shoulder. Shame tells you that you’re a freak; that those thoughts you have are not normal; that you will never fit in. Shame whispered into your ear when your mother found you playing with yourself as a child. Shame is the one who makes you hate yourself.
Fear sits on your right shoulder. He is my older brother, as old as life itself. Fear fills every dark corner with monsters, turns every stranger on a dark street into a murderer. Fear stops you from telling your crush how you feel. He tells you it is better not to try than let people see you fail. Fear makes you build your own prison.
Who am I, then? I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend. You turn to me when you have nothing else, because I live in your heart. I am the one who forces you to endure. The one who prolongs your torment.
Sincerely,
Hope.
Ronni's Story
Coming soon!