Xikawuul

Curiosity isn’t always a good thing. I once thought discovering everything the world had to offer was my true passion. It turns out though some things are best left alone.

I always had an interest in the unknown and the unexplained. Mysteries were what I enjoyed most and the darker the story the more it fascinated me. Last year on my 23rd birthday I launched a website focused on mysterious stories and I loved it more than anything. People sent in crazy tales ranging from being followed in the woods to finding strange objects. I read every single story I received and always attempted to come up with an answer to the mystery. I rarely could though as such things are hard to explain and I think humanity as a whole can’t comprehend what might be out there. When I wasn’t running the website, I would explore woods and haunted houses looking for anything out of the ordinary. I also asked people to send in objects or documents that they thought was of mysterious origin or haunted. I never really had anything strange happen and after over six months I began to feel a little bored. The stories people told were great, but I never actually saw anything firsthand that made me truly believe in the supernatural. That all changed when I made the biggest mistake of my entire life.

Outside of people sending me things, I would also search for objects myself. A boring but simple place that I would check out every Sunday was my local library. I’d dig through endless amounts of books looking for anything unusual or dark. I never expected to find much, but I guess the goal was something along the lines of a book that had been passed from owner to owner causing fear before finally ending up there. A cursed item or artifact so to speak. I figured I’d never find anything, but it was fun to look all the same. Either way I loved reading and the library in my town was very calm and peaceful.

It was a particularly cool August day when everything began. I woke up pretty early and checked the website, but nothing had changed from the night before. I sat back in my chair and debated what to do with my day. I finally decided I’d head to the library for an hour or so and see if I could find anything. It was only a ten-minute walk from my house, so I got there a little before 8:30. I nodded to the librarian as I walked through the glass doors. She was used to seeing me in there and was always very nice. I browsed through the shelves for about twenty minutes looking for anything new, but I didn’t have much luck. I found one book about the Salem Witch trials, but it was essentially just stating facts about what happened, and it wasn’t anything that I didn’t already know. I began to feel discouraged, not just because of the book but in general. I loved everything unknown, I wanted to believe every word of the stories people sent me, but I had to admit at this point it was becoming difficult. I considered leaving the library and reevaluating my whole life, but before I did a book at the end of the aisle caught my eye. It was bigger than most of the other books and seemed to be made out of a strange material. It stuck out a few inches into the aisle which was the only reason I even noticed it. There was something else too, a strange feeling I got when I looked at it. A part of me thought I should ignore the book and leave, but my curiosity outweighed those feelings.

I grabbed the book and pulled it out slowly. It was large and bound in what looked like aged leather. It was clear that it was incredibly old, and there was no writing of any kind on the cover or the back. I pulled it open and coughed as dust filled my lungs. I wheezed into my arm for a few seconds before turning my attention back to the first page. It was entirely blank except for one word that I had never heard before and didn’t understand. It simply said, Xikawuul.

I felt a chill crawl up my spine as I tried to make sense of what I had read. I wasn’t sure if it was a statement in a strange language or a name of some kind. My best guess was that it was a name or title, nothing else seemed logical. I turned to the next page and to my surprise it looked just like the first one. It just said Xikawuul again with nothing else at all on the entire page. I felt even weirder the more I flipped but page after page it was the same thing. Xikawuul in big letters on every single page of the book. There were 33 unmarked pages and all of them just displayed this strange word. I was confused but also excited as I hadn’t been so intrigued by something in a long time. I decided I would take the book home and do more research. I checked out the book and asked if the librarian knew where it had come from, but she stated she had never seen it before. I walked home, book in hand thinking about what this strange word could possibly mean. When I got home, the first thing I did was a google search on it but to my surprise I didn’t find anything at all. No translation, no definition, no names that matched it. Absolutely nothing at all, no indication of what Xikawuul meant.

I sat back in my chair and thought hard for a few minutes. I felt so at a loss as I expected google to come up with at least some kind of explanation. I decided to ask on my website if anyone was familiar with the word and then I looked through the book one more time to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I hadn’t though, it was just Xikawuul on every page in the exact same handwriting. I was so confused and decided to take a break for the rest of the day and try and find something else to do as I was getting a strange feeling. I watched TV until it got dark and then at about 10, I decided to head to bed. That night I had a dream that an old woman chased me around the forest near my house screaming Xikawuul at me over and over again until I finally woke up. I was covered in sweat and my heart was racing as I shook my head and sat up. I thought I had probably just spent too much time looking at the book as it was all that was on my mind. I fell back asleep and slept peacefully for a few more hours and slowly got up as the light pierced through my bedroom window. I felt a bit calmer, but I still had a bad feeling. I figured I should check the outside of my house just to make sure everything was fine. I knew it probably was but since I lived alone, I liked to be safe.

I walked through my living room and the book caught my eye. I could have sworn I closed it the night before, but it was open. I figured I had to be mistaken as I walked over and shut it reading, Xikawuul one more time trying to make it register anything that made sense in my brain. I stepped out the front door and examined my house. I rented the house from my dad’s friend and since he couldn’t find anyone else to take any of the other two rooms, I lived alone full-time which was a sweet deal for me. I scanned the exterior of the house but there was nothing of note. Before I went back inside, I examined the tree line. The forest was about seventy-five feet from my house and was big, ranging for a few miles. I noticed what looked like a bunch of branches right in front of the trees and I got the same grim feeling, like when I was looking at the book. I slowly walked over to examine what they were and when they came into view my heart dropped. At that point in time, it was probably the worst feeling I ever had in my entire life. I was right about it being branches, but I would never have guessed how they were laid out. They were broken into letters and spelled out a single word. As you probably could have guessed, the word was Xikawuul.

I couldn’t believe what I had seen. I slowly backed away from the branches careful not to touch them and went back inside slamming the door. I racked my brain trying to come up with any explanation that made sense, but nothing did. I opened the book again and flipped through the endless pages of Xikawuul, looking for anything at all that would help explain this, but as I suspected there was nothing. I sat back on my couch feeling very uncomfortable. Xikawuul was all that I could think about.

I decided that this had to be related to the supernatural, and that the word must have some otherworldly meaning. Whether it was a ritualistic word, or the name of some demon I knew there had to be something up with it. I checked the website for any responses about Xikawuul, but there was still nothing. I spent the rest of the day occasionally flipping through the book and looking out at the woods for any movement. There was nothing new, everything outside seemed calm even though on the inside I was beginning to become truly scared. The more I tried to rationalize it, the more I realized just how irrational it really was. There was no good explanation other than the book had caused what had happened. That still didn’t really make any sense to me. After hours and hours of thinking, I finally decided to go to bed around 9:30 since I was exhausted. I drifted off to sleep with Xikawuul running through my thoughts.

That night I had the same dream of the old woman chasing after me screaming that terrible word over and over again. I woke up in a panic and tried to shake my mind free of everything. I was so sick of Xikawuul but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I glanced out the window and saw the sun just barely coming up. I sighed realizing there was no way I was going to sleep anymore, so I figured I’d check the house and the yard to make sure there was nothing related to Xikawuul anywhere. I walked past the book in the living room as I did the morning before, and it was open again. I could have sworn I had shut it, but I expected it to be open. I didn’t think there was any shot this was all just going to suddenly end. I walked around outside and to my relief I didn’t find anything new near the woods. That made me feel a bit better, but all that faded quickly when I turned back towards my house and saw it. In big red letters that looked like blood there it was, Xikawuul written on the side of my house right below my bedroom window.

I didn’t even want to check if it was actually blood. I decided to return the book immediately. I grabbed it and began walking towards the library hoping to get some answers but mainly just with the goal of getting rid of the book. It was like my mind was overcome by Xikawuul and it just ran through my thoughts over and over again. I got to the library quickly and walked up to the front desk immediately. The librarian seemed taken aback as I’m sure I had a somewhat crazed look on my face. “Is everything alright?” she asked. “I checked out this book, I want to return it, but I have to ask first do you know what this word means?” I flipped it open to the first page and she put on her glasses to read it. “Xikawuul” she said in a confused tone, “no I have no idea what that could mean.” I wasn’t surprised by that response I really didn’t expect much. “Alright I was just curious, thanks anyway, like I said I want to return it either way.” She nodded looking a bit concerned and set it aside on the counter. I turned around and headed out the front door. “Xikawuul” I heard behind me in a whispered tone. I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not. “What was that?” I asked the librarian with terror overcoming me. “Oh sorry, I was just thinking about what it could mean, it sounds strangely familiar, but I don’t know why.” “Haha gotcha” I shakily replied pushing my way out the front door. I could feel her eyes on me as I stepped out onto the street.

I calmed down some as I headed home but I was still weary. The librarian seemed odd but so did everything over the past 48 hours. I tried to rid all of this from my mind as I walked home. I stepped through the front door and collapsed to the ground when I saw it. The book was somehow back, sitting in my living room wide open. And this time no human being said it, but I still heard it clear as day coming from the book. “Xikawuul” it hissed in a sinister voice. I couldn’t take my eyes off that horrible book as it continued to whisper it over and over.

I packed my bag quickly and left my house without a second thought. I had a good friend who lived about five minutes from me, and I knew he would let me stay with him without any heads up. I called on the way just to be safe, but he was completely fine with it. I didn’t mention why, as I felt like it would be impossible for someone to believe my story. When I got to his house, he was heading out to work but he told me it was fine for me to hangout as his roommate was out of town and the whole basement was empty. I laid down on the couch at the bottom of the stairs and stared up at the ceiling. I tried to make sense of what was happening, but I still couldn’t. Xikawuul ran through my thoughts, and I couldn’t rid myself of it no matter what I did. I tried to think about other things, anything else, but no matter what it was always there. I watched a couple movies and relaxed a bit, but not very much. I reached the conclusion that the book was “cursed” or something and Xikawuul had some kind of evil supernatural meaning. Nothing had really happened to indicate that the word was evil, but I just had such a bad feeling about it. The branches and the writing on the house felt threatening one way or another, but even besides that when I saw Xikawuul or thought about it I just felt afraid and uncomfortable. Like I had seen something that I wasn’t supposed to.

My friend worked all day and didn’t get back until 10. I didn’t want to come across as weird, but I couldn’t resist asking him if the word meant anything to him. Like the librarian I didn’t think it would, but I still had to ask. “Hey man, does the word Xikawuul mean anything to you?” “Um what, Xikawuul?” He looked incredibly confused, so I decided to move on. “Someone at the library just said it today, I was confused too.” He laughed briefly and I let out a forced chuckle and then quickly changed the subject. We hung out for about a half hour but since he had to work again the next morning he went upstairs to bed, and I tried to get some shut eye as well. I felt a bit safer at his place, but I dreaded what might be going on at my house with the book. I figured I’d go check it out in the morning and if there was anything new, I’d call my dad and see if he could help make any sense out of it. I didn’t think he’d fully believe me, but he knew I wouldn’t lie about such a thing. I eventually drifted off to sleep and the same exact dream awoke me again very early. I yawned and looked around the room, but everything seemed the same. I glanced towards the stairs and about had a heart attack when I saw it. The book was sitting on the steps about halfway up. It was open again, and almost seemed to whisper that horrible word.

I was frozen with fear and my mind just kept repeating Xikawuul over and over again. I slowly got up and grabbed the book looking for anything different, but it was the same thing all over. I was completely done with it, and I grabbed the book and headed back to my house without waking up my friend. I walked up the driveway and saw the house was covered with more writing. There were three more words in the same red lettering, and there were another three made out of branches in the lawn. I didn’t care though, there was only one thing on my mind. I was going to burn the book; I had a feeling it would end everything, and it was the only real idea I had. No matter what I was going to rid myself of Xikawuul once and for all.

I had a small fire pit outside and I threw the book into it with some kindling and lit the side of the book. As I did it flung itself open and rifled through the pages as it slowly became engulfed in flames. As it did a hissing sound repeating Xikawuul over and over again came from the middle of the blaze. I realized quickly that the pages themselves weren’t burning, it was almost as if the space outside of the book was on fire but the book itself was untouched by the flames. I began to panic as the fire slowly died and I wasn’t able to start another one. I decided to just leave the book and go inside as it continued to hiss Xikawuul quietly over and over. I went inside and locked the door. I debated what to do and I decided I was going to head to my parent’s house and tell them everything that had happened. I went up to my room and packed a bag. On my way down the stairs, I almost fell down as I glanced into the living room. The book was inside the house, open once again.

I ran over to that horrible text and slammed it shut as I could continue to hear it hiss Xikawuul. I threw it in the trash and prepared to head out. Before I could though I heard a door creak open upstairs. To my absolute horror I heard the same hissing sound coming from upstairs getting louder and louder. It was clear someone was walking around, and I froze terrified, my eyes glued on the stairs. I heard someone step onto the first step and then an old woman’s voice repeating Xikawuul over and over again. I tried to open the front door, but it wouldn’t budge. I turned around slowly and saw the old woman from my dreams standing on the last step staring at me still whispering Xikawuul. She looked like the librarian but if she were twenty years older and sick. I tried desperately to get the door open, but it was as if someone had locked it from the outside. The old woman approached me still whispering that awful word over and over without ever taking a breath. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, but my thoughts still couldn’t shake that awful word. I slumped to the ground as I felt her footsteps above me. She grabbed me by the arms, and I slowly looked up at her in terror. The last thing I thought before everything went dark was Xikawuul, and I finally realized what it meant.

So, what did everyone think of the story? Pretty cliche I know, but my goal was never to impress anyone with my writing ability. I just wanted to make sure you readers finished reading it because now, I am finally free. I know you’re confused so let me explain myself. First off, I’m not some 23-year-old who loves the supernatural. I figured if I said I was it would make my story more relatable to all you young people. No, the truth is I’m a 42-year-old archeologist who a year ago made a terrible discovery. I’ll get back to that in a second but first I want to warn all of you about what you just unknowingly did to yourselves. I’m sure many of your first thoughts were about how repetitive the usage of the word in the book was. I’m confident too that no one was counting the number of times it was actually said. It really is too bad for you and trust me I take no great joy in doing this, but I have to be free. I can’t take any more of this torture. I know you’re all still confused but just bear with me, this will all make sense soon.

If you were for some reason counting, that word was stated 33 times including the title. I know that still means nothing to you, but that number is the most important thing that has been said so far in this text. Not 32 and not 34 times, 33 is the magic number. When I first found the real book, I had no idea what the importance of 33 was. I’m not sure if anyone is familiar with the Nahanni Valley in Canada, but that is where the book was really found. The section where the book was found is known as the Headless Valley to some, due to the tragic deaths that occurred there. It wasn’t found in some library, but in one of the most dangerous places I have ever been. I got a call from a friend who told me some local thrill-seeking hikers had stumbled upon the spot when they had to rest for the night due to difficult river conditions. My friend lived in Canada and often looked for places that could potentially contain items with historical significance, and he was well known in the area as the person to contact about such things. I live in Alaska, and I headed towards the site immediately. I had to take a plane first, and then it was a multiple day boat trip to find the location and I got an eerie feeling as soon as I arrived. The spot was on the left side of the river and there was nothing of any real note in the area except for a large rock. This was very close to the spots in the early 1900s where people seeking gold had been found without their heads. The area that had raised so much attention was between two large trees, and it was marked by a big, inscribed stone. The stone read, “what is buried here must remain unseen” and it was dated 1951. I know I should have heeded that warning but as an archaeologist I couldn’t resist my curiosity. We dug it up and discovered the book six feet deep. The outside of it did look similar to how I described it earlier. No writing and what looked like aged leather binding it together. However, the first difference is that the book didn’t just say that word over and over. It explained what it was, or should I say, who it was.

Yes, that’s right it is a name after all, and as I read more and more of the text, I learned about who the name belonged to. Going forward I will refer to the name as X, as if I state it again it will lose its power. When I first found the book, I quickly put it in my backpack as I admit I wanted to discover what it contained myself. No one protested at all, so I didn’t worry about it too much. I began to examine it on my trip home and was horrified by what I read. I didn’t realize though just how screwed I was until the last page. Page 33 made it clear just how much trouble I was truly in and how much trouble all of you are in now. Even writing this I can’t help but feel relief along with my extreme guilt for what it is that I’m doing. I think the easiest way for you to understand what the book contains is to show you an excerpt taken from that last page. The previous 32 pages essentially just rambled on about what makes some people “worthy” and what doesn’t. But the last page is what made everything clear. The book was written by a woman named Mary, and I assume in the year 1951.

He was called crazy; he spoke to what appeared to be no one. But we know he spoke to the Holy One, the master of us all. The man always sought a life of meaning, and he found just that in the embrace of the Holy One. He was told he must cleanse the non-believers, and he did so, beginning with his family. They were cleansed with fire, four souls given without any hesitation. He then appeared to take his own life, but we know the truth. He became much more in death than he ever could in life and that is when he truly became X. After a week he returned and chose the ones worthy including me. He showed us his power and the might of the Holy One. 32 of us were deemed worthy of his gifts, 16 men and 16 women. We were able to speak to him as well, even though we could not comprehend the form he took. We too cleansed the non-believers with fire, and we followed him deeper and deeper into the forest. Any non-believers we found were cleansed, either with flame or by removing their thoughtless heads from their fragile bodies. Each person we killed made him stronger and he began to morph into something magnificent, greater than any man could be. Our quest was pure, and our path was clear. The great X guided by the hand of The Holy One led us from sea to sea taking the worthless lives of hundreds, every soul making him stronger. Their life energy and fear gave us power, we did not age, and we did not need food or water. We grew taller than any normal man or woman and had incredible strength. We survived purely off the souls of the ones we killed, and we were in good favor of the Holy One who continued to strengthen X. After many years we separated our might and settled in two places. One was a swamp near a small fishing town in Alaska and the other, where I went, was in a large valley in Canada. The 16 in Alaska hid in the forest and took souls from the townspeople causing terror and confusion. The remaining 16 of us also continued to take the lives of the ones who came seeking riches. The great X oversaw all of us and was proud of what we accomplished. In the valley where I lived there are many caves along the river that allowed us to remain unseen and watch anyone who voyaged nearby. The valley was filled with fear, and we thrived here.

It is unfortunate that after more than 50 blessed years it had to end. The Alaskan town was abandoned, giving our brothers and sisters no one to feed on anymore. Soon after, we were discovered in the valley and the unworthy masses grouped together and cornered us in the canyon. Even with our strength we were outnumbered twenty to one. They sought vengeance for the souls that we had taken. But before they could end us the great X ordered us to end ourselves and join him. The 16 from Alaska returned and we were One again. I was chosen by X to hide and write our story but once these words are finished, I will join my true family. X said we will have to wait for many years, but we will continue our quest one day. I watched firsthand my brothers and sisters’ presence rise again after death, and I know I will too.  Without our physical bodies we can no longer cleanse souls. The great X told us about another way for his power to grow. A way that can never be stopped by any of you pathetic beings. The world has changed, and brute force will no longer accomplish our goals. The mighty X has found a much more insidious way for us to continue our torment of the unworthy.

By knowing our quest, you give him strength. Even in death we can still feed off of your fear. That is why I have recorded our story and have written his name on every one of these 33 pages, just as he instructed. By reading X 33 times you have become found by us. You are in our gaze now and we will never let you go. Unless you find many souls for us, all of our focus will be on you. The 33 will never lose power, not as long as you know his name. He will live on forever, anyone who reads his name in this book will never escape him. We will no longer even have to kill any more of you ourselves.

He will be strong enough again one day, he will have his final body and his master the Holy One will descend from the heavens. And that will mean the end of your world.

Obviously, I edited the exact excerpt as the first time X was written it spelled out the whole name. But like I said I couldn’t write it any more than 33 times, the same way Mary couldn’t. For some more context this group was stopped by the joint effort of people all across North America who had lost loved ones as well as the local people of Canada who lived around the Nahanni Valley. There is not much information about who specifically made up this group, but they were the ones who put an end to the spree of killings and seemingly stopped the violence. This information wasn’t online anywhere, I only learned of it by speaking to Canadian and Alaskan locals who had the story passed down to them. There seemed to be a conscious effort to forget about what happened and given what the book stated I understand why.

The woman Mary was found before she ended her life, and the book was taken from her and buried on the spot so that no one would ever read its contents. Before she could be questioned, she was able to leap into the river and her body was never discovered. There is no real information on who the Holy One described actually is, but I assume it is some ancient powerful entity. The lead man who took the name X, may have originally been named John, but that is not confirmed. Any information about the deaths caused by this group of people does not mention murder or any conscious pattern. Although you can find a path of brutal deaths all across North America from the late 1800s all the way until 1951. I assume they were responsible for most if not all of them. One way or another I am positive they were the cause of all the mysterious deaths in the Nahanni Valley. The Alaskan town I believe to be Portlock which had many bizarre deaths before it was completely abandoned in 1950. I do not know this for sure but the dates line up perfectly and it would explain a lot. I spoke to people in the area, and they seemed to support this idea. I still do not know where they came from originally, or what the actual significance of the name X is, and why it contains the power it does. I have come to suspect it is from a language that has been intentionally forgotten with time. Truthfully, I don’t think I even want to know.

I’m sure none of that really matters to you but I feel as though an explanation is deserved. I wanted to share as much information as possible considering what is about to happen to you. As the excerpt stated and I learned all too well, by reading or hearing the name X 33 times, he and the other 32 turn their gaze upon you. 33 times for each one of the monsters that were responsible for the deaths of hundreds including their own families. I didn’t know what that meant at first, but I quickly found out. Shortly after returning home my hair began to fall out and I started to experience the dream I described in the fictional story. Next, my grandparents both passed away suddenly. They were very old, but it still happened so quick. My long-distance girlfriend decided to call it off with me for reasons I didn’t understand, and only four days after that my cousin was hit by a car and became paralyzed. My house burned down a week later and I had to move into a much smaller apartment. I realized pretty fast that this was all because of what I had read in the book, and I began to believe all of it was true. I contracted a cold that still hasn’t abided in over ten months and no matter how many times I shower I always have a terrible smell. In general, I always have bad luck, nothing ever goes my way and I always feel very down. I began to suspect that my life was coming to an end. No matter where I went, I felt like I was being watched. I considered suicide but I realized I had one last option to try.

I brought this plague upon myself by reading the name of the entity 33 times. But I remembered the book said it can be passed to others to take the focus off of yourself. I debated my options, writing X 33 times simply wouldn’t work, and no one would listen to me say it that many times. Then it finally dawned on me. If I created a fake story about it that seemed to be purely for entertainment, I could slip it in 33 times without drawing attention. I didn’t care if the story was good, I just needed it to at least keep the reader engaged until they had read it all 33 times. I don’t know if twenty people will read this or a hundred, but I do know at least some people will and I am relieved that the gaze will no longer purely be on me.

I would now like to take this time to apologize to you all. It doesn’t bring me any joy to do this, but I had to stop the pain and torment. I do believe that you will not experience as much bad luck as I have, but I will not pretend I know that for sure.  All you can do now is continue to share this story to others to deflect from the gaze. In doing so we will be introducing this evil back into the world, but I don’t know any other way to help ourselves. Don’t lose all hope, share the story, and do whatever you can to try and find ways to stop these monsters. I truly believe if someone can find a way to understand the name X and its meaning, power can be taken from it. I am going to travel to Portlock to try and find anything I can to help. I don’t have high hopes but since I am in the same state as what remains of the town, I figure it is at least worth a shot.

I really do hope one of you can find a way to end this once and for all. Truthfully though I am just happy that I’ll finally be able to rest. It’s been so long since I actually slept.

I wish all of you good luck and trust me, you will need it.