The Shadows of Portlock

It started with a whisper—a rumor drifting from one remote town to the next, carried on the wind like the scent of rain over the pines. Reports of strange activity in the forests near Prince of Wales Island had begun to surface: people vanishing without a trace, unsettling nocturnal sounds echoing through the trees, and an unease that settled over the land like a heavy fog.

In California, the discovery of anomalous evidence—fur samples, gnawed bones, and tracks too large to belong to any known animal—suggested the presence of a rare wolf species native to southeastern Alaska. That clue was enough to draw an investigative team north, specialists in cryptids and the unexplained, to the wild, rain-soaked forests of Alaska.

Locals were wary. Some had left the island altogether, driven out by the fear that something in the woods did not want them there. The logger who spoke to Maria and Bryce, two members of the team, was blunt: “People disappear out here. These things come and take them. That’s why we don’t talk about it.” He warned them: stay away from the mountains. “It’s their territory,” he said, voice low and eyes darting to the treeline.

As the team flew in, Russell recounted Native American legends—the stories of supernatural beings that were more aggressive, more cunning than anything found in the lower forty-eight. Bears and wolves prowled these woods, but something else did, too. Something older. Something hostile.

II. Into the Woods

The team was prepared—or so they thought. They brought drones, night-vision cameras, and scent trackers. The drones picked up odors: rotting flesh, wet dog, and something else, something unfamiliar. Two possible locations for Bigfoot sightings emerged from the data. To cover more ground, the team split up: Maria took the lower elevation, Russell went higher.

That night, as a storm battered the mountains, Russell’s crew huddled in their camp. Loud rustling noises grew closer, accompanied by a foul stench—the same warning the locals had described. The darkness pressed in, making it impossible to see beyond the reach of their flashlights.

Maria’s search led her to a kill site—a pile of bones, skulls, and scraps of flesh. She radioed Russell, voice trembling, “Oh my god, I just found a pile of bones right in front of me. A couple of skulls and other bits.” Laser-guided technology swept the area, but the creature remained invisible, lurking just beyond the light.

They felt like prey, taunted by something intelligent. It was as if the forest itself was watching, waiting.

III. The Predator’s Game

Russell returned to a site where animal skin had been hanging from a tree. The flesh was gone, vanished without a trace. The cameraman’s photos showed the skin had been twenty feet off the ground—too high for any bear, too carefully removed for any known predator.

Russell realized they’d been outmaneuvered. Whatever they were chasing was thinking ten steps ahead, using stealth and cunning to stay hidden. It avoided the flashlights, collecting its prize only after the team had been led away.

The crew searched for footprints in the soft ground, but found only bear tracks. Alaska’s bears were larger, wilder, and unaccustomed to humans. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, weapons ready, but the sense of danger only grew. “Guards with guns might seem sufficient,” Maria said, “but nothing could stop an angry group of massive humanoid cannibals hunting for human flesh.”

The team pressed deeper into the woods, haunted by the knowledge that most Bigfoot encounters were harmless—until they weren’t. When these creatures decided to defend their territory, the results were violent and terrifying.

IV. Portlock’s Curse

The story’s roots stretched back to Portlock, a ghost town abandoned in terror. Mysterious disappearances and horrifying deaths had plagued the village for generations, and whispers of a strange humanoid creature circulated through the land. The fear became so intense that the entire population evacuated overnight, leaving Portlock to decay into silence.

It was not the first time the village had been deserted. For centuries, settlers tried to make a life in Portlock, only to flee again and again. In 1867, nomadic Sugpak natives settled the area, drawn by its abundance of clams, fish, and moose. But within a month, they faced violent attacks—not from rival tribes, but from cannibal giants.

These monstrous beings came not for resources, but for human flesh. Night after night, the giants descended with unimaginable brutality. The villagers fought back, but were forced to abandon their home.

V. The Blood in the Snow

By 1930, Portlock had grown, and the sense of safety returned. The old rules against venturing into the foggy forest relaxed. In 1931, a logger named Andrew Camlook ignored the warnings and went deeper into the woods. When he didn’t return, a search party found his body in a horrific state—his head crushed by his own sled, which had been flung far from the scene. His dogs were shredded, the sled battered. No human could have moved it alone.

The brutality of the attack left the search party speechless. What kind of creature could possess such strength and savagery? Camlook’s death was a stark reminder of the unseen predator lurking in the forest, and the threat felt closer than ever.

Not long after, Tom Larson encountered the creature on the beach—a massive, hairy figure standing upright, its eyes radiating unsettling intelligence. Larson tried to shoot, but was paralyzed by fear, unable to pull the trigger. The creature retreated into the woods, leaving him shaken and deeply unnerved.

VI. The Nantan’s Revenge

The Nantan was no longer just a story. It was real, growing bolder, targeting humans directly. More residents vanished, and the town was enveloped in dread. People whispered about the Nantan, describing it as a vengeful spirit, relentless and unforgiving—a creature filled with wrath, waiting for the perfect moment to strike back.

At first, gold miners disappeared, then hunters, then ordinary townsfolk. Bodies began to surface, marked with deep claw and bite wounds, remains so mangled they were nearly unrecognizable. The predator’s attacks grew bolder, and nothing seemed to stop it.

Guards patrolled day and night, curfews were enforced, but the Nantan found its prey regardless. Skeptics blamed bears, but that theory collapsed when a body was found washed down from the mountains, torn apart in ways no bear could manage.

VII. The Exodus

As the disappearances continued, fear took hold of Portlock. Life became unbearable, and survival seemed less and less likely. The villagers decided to leave in 1950, evacuating nearly the entire population overnight. The official reports put the number of missing at fifteen, but the native community believed it was much higher—three dozen bodies discovered, countless others vanished without a trace.

The mutilations pointed to something far more sinister than a bear or wolf. The town was being hunted by something beyond human understanding. The Nantan, whether beast or spirit, had made Portlock its hunting ground.

VIII. The Legacy of Terror

Even now, Portlock stands as a silent warning. The forest is thick with memories—bones beneath the moss, whispers in the wind, and the echo of footsteps that never return. The investigative team left Prince of Wales Island with more questions than answers. The woods remain, indifferent and vast, and the predator—whatever it is—remains undefeated.

Some say the Nantan is still out there, waiting for the next trespasser. Others believe the land itself is cursed, haunted by the wrath of ancient spirits. But every so often, a new report surfaces—a scream in the night, a pile of bones, a shadow glimpsed between the trees.

And so the legend grows, a dark thread woven into the fabric of Alaska’s wilderness, a mystery that refuses to die.