It’s Christmas Eve, the night before the happiest, jolliest, most wondrous time of the year. I wonder what I’ll be doing that day. I hope it’s nothing stressful!
Anyway, if you read the write-up on “The Day the Earth Screamed” the other day, you’d know that I said that I had “easier stories” to fall back on if I needed to switch up the schedule for this month if it came to that. Lo and behold, yes, it did; today’s story wasn’t intended to be covered. I had another alien account in mind, but I’m at the point where I want to be done with writing so I can stop treating clocks and calendars with the same level of fear that I’d treat being cornered by a pit bull.
Because I want simple stuff, I went over to About, my favorite defunct online repertoire of stories; the despair I feel whenever I’m reminded of that is enough to turn me into a Sock and Buskin mask. God, I need to find more websites like it.
Oh well, I can do that when I’m not racing against the clock. So, what’s today’s impromptu tale of strangeness? Well, honestly, I don’t really know. It’s one that I picked out at pure random and went with because the title was interesting to me.
No, really, that was why I went with it. I’ve mentioned in the past—but I don’t think recently—that I’ve covered some stories because of their name. Even if I haven’t read the case, I’ve gone ahead and said, “I want to cover that,” to myself. This has backfired on more than several occasions, but since when have I ever learned my lesson? I’ve done Decemystery since 2018 (2022 doesn’t count) and have yet to learn how to temper my workload.
I digress, though; today’s mystery takes us over to Nevada, a state that—strangely enough—has yet to be featured on this blog outside of a write-up from 2019 where I (haphazardly) covered the theories surrounding Stephen Paddock, the man who perpetrated the 2017 Las Vegas Massacre.
However, when it comes to cryptids or UFOs, Nevada has been noticeably absent. It’s been mentioned numerous times, thanks to Area 51, but it’s somehow slipped through the cracks otherwise.
No longer, though! Today, we’ll be discussing something that I call The Hopping Creature of Gardnerville. Come along, dear reader; it’s time for us to head on over to one of the United States’ most culturally notorious states, a place that has become synonymous with gold, gambling, and oh-so-many more salacious things. Strap in because the land of Sin City is finally getting the spotlight shone on it!
Silver State Strangeness
As I mentioned in the intro, this case is from the now-defunct website About. It was submitted in May of 2008 under the name “Hopping Creature.” I wasn’t very creative with naming this write-up, but I’m also not very good at it. It’s a work in progress, though, I swear!
Anyway, as the title of our story implies, this case occurred in Gardnerville, Nevada. That’s on the far western side of northern Nevada, being located in Douglas County. Why do I mention this? Well, because it’s important that I explain something crucial about Nevada as a state—namely, how the state’s population is distributed.
As is the case with any country on Earth, not everyone lives in one area. There are small villages and towns and hustling, bustling metropolises. In the case of Nevada, though, it’s significantly different. A whopping 73% of the state’s population is in Clark County. That’s the southernmost county in the state, and it’s where Las Vegas is. Of the nearly 3.2 million people living in Nevada, 2.3 million reside in this one county; Las Vegas’ population is 660,929 as of 2023. That’s just over a fifth of the state’s residents.
By comparison, 45% of New Yorkers live in New York City.
Why is this important? Well, that’s simple: A very common question I ask when it comes to many stories is, “How did nobody notice this?” However, when it comes to a state like Nevada, that can be easily dismissed when the story doesn’t take place in one of three cities: Las Vegas, Henderson, or Reno. Outside of that, the population is spread out like crazy.
In the case of Gardnerville, it has a population of a mere 6,147 as of 2022. It’s a small town that’s 27 minutes from Nevada’s capital, Carson City, and just under an hour from the third-largest city, the aforementioned Reno.
As such, I want you to keep this in mind. Any and all preconceived notions of how nobody noticed the following events can be explained by the denizens of Nevada, who have yet to come to terms with social interaction outside of a few locations. I blame the federal government for owning over 80% of the land.
Anyway, now that your lesson on where the people of Nevada live is over, let’s get to the story of the oh-so-creatively named “Hopping Creature.”
As I said earlier, it was sent to About in May of 2008. What I didn’t say was that it was submitted by a woman named Danette. According to her, she saw this supposed “hopping creature” two months prior on March 1, 2008, at “approximately 11:00 p.m.” For my 24-hour time readers, that’s 23:00. I’m guessing she was watching one of the hundreds of television airings of Michael Bay’s first Transformers film; I swear that that movie aired on TNT and other networks every other day around that time.
At least it introduced me to Linkin Park.
Anyway, Danette had just flicked the lights off so he could head to sleep. However, before Freddy Krueger’s benevolent cousin, Freddie Kinder, could help her enter Dreamland, she heard her Border Collie-Australian Sheperd start barking. I’m of the opinion that dogs are better alarm systems than actual alarm systems; they can detect when cryptids and ghosts are nearby. Or, even worse, creepy crawlers; my dog has stared at cockroaches before. He’s such a good boy.
Perturbed from her beauty sleep, Danette went to investigate what had her dog barking up a late-night March storm. She figured it was either a raccoon or a skunk. Having to type that it might’ve been a raccoon gave me flashbacks to writing about The Gargoyle in the Shrubs earlier this year. Thank God this story does not include them in the theories.
In addition to Danette’s dog barking, she could also hear her ducks quacking. Indeed, from the sound of it, Danette owned a ranch; she mentioned she had “30 ducks, three hens, [and] a goat” in her backyard. Keep this in mind for later because it ties into the theories—and by that, I mean practically every single one.
Upon reaching her living room, Danette “went to the living room” and turned her deck light on. Immediately, she saw what had her dog and ducks all riled up. It was…
Something. That’s how I’d put it, anyway!
This thing was on the second step of Danette’s deck, and it was looking toward her. By her estimate, it was about four feet (121 centimeters) away—which I’d label as way too close for comfort when you hear what this little slice of Hell looked like.
According to Danette, the creature had black eyes (I’m guessing it lacked pupils), a skinny face, sported long hair that was “black and silver” that ran down its back, and “looked very old.” The latter two details pique my curiosity heavily, but I’ll circle back to them when we get to the first theory because they play a vital role in it. In fact, they play a large role in a few of the theories.
Personally, I think the oddest detail is that Danette was unable to see the creature’s legs, so I have no idea what position this thing was in. Given she didn’t give an estimation of its height, I’m guessing it was crouching or sitting. This is yet another piece of information that’ll be crucial for later. I know there’s a lot to remember, but for any newcomers to the world of the Fortean, this story is a prime example of what’s known as a “humanoid encounter.” So, just keep that in mind, okay?
Regardless of its height and position, Danette and the creature had a staring contest for roughly 30 seconds. Then, it “moved back” before leaping backward. It did this while maintaining eye contact with Danette and even managed to hop over her “northern fence,” despite not looking that way, before vanishing into the night.
Interestingly, Danette likened the way the creature hopped to a kangaroo. This, to me, is fascinating because kangaroos are incapable of moving backward. Their legs, as well as their tail, make it impossible for them to do so.
This method of escape made Danette suspect that being was “intelligent” because “most animals run when you see them.” This thing, however, refused to turn its back to her; it must’ve thought that Danette would try to harm it. In my opinion, the beauty of her patio enraptured it.
On a more serious note, this is highly interesting because Danette is true. Given that her dog was barking wildly at the creature, it might’ve been fearful of Danette letting her dog out when it retreated, especially if it had had experiences with coyotes (which are more than plentiful in Nevada).
Why is this relevant? Well, one of the key things you should never do when fleeing from a predatory animal is turn your back on them. This is especially true for canids, who will view the action as a sign that you’re weak, thereby activating what’s known as their “prey drive.” In simpler terms, they see you as lunch.
This has been your basic outdoorsman tip, brought to you by a guy who has never gone camping once in his life. Seriously, though, Danette’s anecdote here is correct, and it’s a fascinating observation in an encounter like this because it’s something I see very few reports make a note of.
Danette ends her post by saying that the encounter didn’t frighten her, but she still opted not to go outside because she “didn’t know what it was.” Not for nothing, but I think it’s less that you weren’t scared and more that you were in a state of shock. But that’s just me; I’m not one of those fancy brain doctors with their fancier brain doctor degrees.
With that, the story of Gardnerville’s bouncy enigma comes to an end. On the surface, this seems like a by-the-numbers humanoid encounter. You can find hundreds of them if you listen to enough scary 4chan greentext stories on YouTube from Keque or Saul Vancaserkin, among a plethora of other channels like them.
However, to me, this one stands out because its behavior doesn’t align with most—if not all—enigmatic humanoid creatures I’ve heard about. But this is not the place to discuss that. No, the place to do that is the theories section, and I don’t want to reminisce on what we wrote when I have quite a bit I wish to say. So, come along; I get ready to see me finally be confident in what I have to say. Well, for the most part. I implore you to keep in mind that I am not the arbiter of what is and is not Fortean.
Theories
1. A Cryptid
To start things off, we have a theory that’s odd. I know how strange that must sound since this is, by all accounts, something that screams “cryptid.” Specifically, it screams “humanoid encounter,” which I brought up earlier.
For those who don’t know, a “humanoid encounter” is a term used to describe a sighting of a cryptid or being that’s humanoid in appearance. I know, how earthshattering. It’s not like the name spells it out in the clearest way possible.
Okay, I apologize; I shouldn’t come across as condescending. In all seriousness, the term can be used to describe everything from a Sasquatch sighting to a Dogman encounter to the earlier-mentioned Pale Crawlers (which are the beings that, I think, made the term famous). Some have gone so far as to use the term when someone meets an alien. Personally, I don’t abide by that since I don’t view aliens as cryptids; it’s like comparing apples to oranges.
This term has become so popular and widely discussed that it’s even spawned its own subreddit, which, as of writing, has over 359,000 members (including me, though I don’t post or comment there).
Couple this with the prevalence of cryptids in rural communities (more on this later), and you have yourself a theory that borders on explaining itself. However, there’s one issue: I don’t know of any cryptid that looks or sounds like the supposed “Hopping Creature.”
Okay, that’s a bit of a lie. There are two that align with this description (Fleshgaits and Pale Crawlers), but they’re getting their own sections because they’d make this theory chaotically long.
Yeah, I know, that’s rich coming from me, the man who’s posted write-ups this month that have had theories that were over 2,000 words long. I plead for mercy; I’m writing this while racing against the clock.
Anyway, before I get into the aforementioned two cryptids, there’s one I want to make a note of, and they’re known as Phantom Kangaroos. I haven’t mentioned them since I wrote about The Enfield Horror back in 2021. Ah, I remember that story. It was so agonizing to write, but man, I felt satisfied when I finished it. I should rewrite it one day just so I can iron out the kinks. Meh, one day.
Phantom Kangaroos are an interesting phenomenon. Despite their name, they do not entail reports of ghostly kangaroos. Rather, they’re about people who say they’ve seen kangaroos, wallabies, or the footprints of either creature. In other words, they’re cousins to Phantom Cats (also known as Alien Big Cats—or ABCs).
I won’t get into specific reports of Phantom Kangaroos because they’re a topic for another day (and it’s one I’d love to write about for next year’s Decemystery because it’s among my favorite mysteries ever). What I will say is that Phantom Kangaroos, along with Alien Big Cats, are not cryptids.
In fact, they’re real.
Well, kind of. While many reports can be chalked up to mass hysteria and misidentification, the laws about owning exotic pets vary from state to state in the United States. I went over this in The Hawaiian Chupacabra write-up a few days ago, and I’ll go over it in much greater detail when I cover a story that warrants such an explanation. However, just know that, yes, you can inexplicably own a kangaroo in some US states.
There are also instances of kangaroos escaping zoos and circuses. This has been known to happen; people often forget that wild animals are, at heart, wild animals. If left unsupervised, or their cage[s] are left ajar, they’re likely going to escape. That’s going to go south very quickly, especially with a kangaroo, an animal whose kick produces 759 pounds (344 kilograms) of force.
And if that somehow doesn’t leave you at the Pearly Gates, the claws on their paws will. Let’s leave it at that.
That said, the other explanation for Phantom Kangaroos—that there is an undiscovered population of them living in the United States (among other countries around the world)—is highly unlikely. Likewise, it’s also not the explanation we’re looking for with this story because, as I said, kangaroos can’t leap backward.
Pretend there’s a sad trombone sound effect here.
So, where does that leave us? Well, as I said earlier, I know of no other cryptids that align with what Danette saw beyond a Fleshgait and Pale Crawler. It’s possible I’m forgetting one or two, but I digress. Now that we know this was not a case of a Phantom Kangaroo, I think it’s time we get into the first prime suspect, the shapeshifting horror of Internet legend: The Fleshgait!
1b. A Fleshgait
Okay, I’ve brought these guys up quite a few times this month. Heck, I wrote an article about them once, but I desperately need to rewrite it because it’s a haphazard mess that was written at a bad point in my life. But that’s for another day; this is now, and I think newcomers to the world of the Fortean deserve to know what a Fleshgait is, especially with how much is going against this theory, ranging from the behavior to the appearance to much more.
A Fleshgait (pronounced “flesh-gate”) is a humanoid being that is said to be tall (stories vary, but I’d say the average height is around 8 feet tall, or 2.4 meters), thin, and pale. They lack hair, have sharp claws, are incredibly agile, and are unbelievably strong—despite their gaunt appearance. It’s said that they can rip apart animals (like deer) with no effort. However, their kills are often reportedly left untouched, likely meaning they’re carrion feeders.
The most iconic aspect of Fleshgaits is that they can mimic human voices. Some stories say that the mimic is imperfect at first, while others claim it’s a perfect replica right off the bat. This could be a distortion brought about by reports being spread around the Internet, or it could be because younger Fleshgaits aren’t as adept at mimicry. I’ll research this more when I inevitably rewrite the above-linked write-up.
As for how they copy voices, the most common belief is that they hear people—usually campers or hikers—and call out to their companions to lure them away from their campsite or established trails to kill them. I could go on a whole tangent about how this detail reminds me of an old urban legend about how a woman will claim her baby is lost. However, it’s all a ruse because she’s part of a highway gang intent on robbing people (I think that’s how the legend goes), but I digress.
Some may question why people would follow the voice deeper into the forest or off the trail. Well, if you go by Paranormal Authority, it’s because the Fleshgait’s call “can be mesmerizing and difficult to resist.” If this sounds familiar, that’s because you’re thinking of a Siren, a creature from Greek mythology whose song was so alluring that sailors would change their course and follow it to their deaths. It leads me to wonder how many Fortean legends have their roots in tales of yore.
Unlike Sirens, though, Fleshgaits are capable of doing something after they kill their target: Take on their guise. Paranormal Authority mentions that this is a universal thing with Fleshgait reports, but it’s very common across many of them.
How these beings manage to copy voices and alter their appearance is unclear. Some animals can copy voices (several birds, in particular, can), but none alter their entire appearance to resemble a different animal. That’s led many to suspect that Fleshgaits are supernatural, extraterrestrial, or interdimensional in nature. Some even speculate they’re government experiments that escaped a secret laboratory somewhere.
I think they’re the world’s greatest cosplayers.
On one final note, where the name “Fleshgait” comes from, I have no idea. However, a Redditor on the Fleshgait subreddit (yes, one exists) mentioned that it was likely made using synonyms for “Skinwalker.” Flesh is a synonym for Skin, and Gait is a synonym for Walk. I guess “Fleshgaiter” sounded too much like someone who had a collection of alligator hides.
Speaking of Skinwalkers, if anything I described above sounds familiar, that’s because you undoubtedly know the countless stories of them—or “yee naaldlooshii,” as they’re known in Navajo. That translates to “by means of it, it goes on all fours” in English.
I’d hate to break it to you, but Skinwalkers and Fleshgaits aren’t the same. They are two completely different things that have absolutely nothing in common.
Skinwalkers are Navajo witches who can turn into another animal or gain their powers through some means (I believe it’s via wearing their pelts or skins). They are not emaciated monstrosities that are horrifically tall and eat humans to take on their guises.
I don’t know how the two became intermingled with each other. It’s possible that the name “Skinwalker” fits the description of a shapeshifting creature. Okay, fair enough, I will admit that “Skinwalker” is a very fitting name for what I described above.
I digress, though. I merely wished to clear the air for those who don’t know what a Skinwalker actually is. So, with that lesson about Fleshgaits out of the way, let’s get back on track and discuss what this theory posits: Danette saw one of the Internet’s most notorious cryptids.
Although I said that there was a lot going against this theory, let’s start with what works. For starters, Danette said the creature appeared intelligent. Fleshgaits are certainly smarter than most, if not all, cryptids (or whatever the heck they are). They’re efficient and understand the importance of not being seen by those who could do them harm.
The Hopping Creature certainly possessed enough intelligence to know that turning its back to Danette would be a sign of weakness. The way it retreated gave me the impression that it was wordlessly saying, “I’ll be back.” That makes me wonder if Danette had a second encounter or if it returned to attack her livestock (more on this later, though).
If Danette saw the Hopping Creature again, I wonder if she submitted a report to About. I do know of one case where someone sent in two accounts at different times about something. I had plans to write about it this month, but I’m saving it for sometime next year, so I won’t reveal what it was. Sorry, dear reader, but I’m leaving you in suspense.
Now, despite this, I should note that this point doesn’t entirely work in the theory’s favor. There are plenty of reports that say that they cannot mimic human behavior perfectly. They’re prone to being awkward and robotic. In other words, it’s the uncanny valley effect. So, while Fleshgaits are smarter than your average bear, they aren’t exactly Albert Einstein.
There’s also where this took place. Fleshgaits are often seen in forests, but I’ve heard stories of them being spotted in the desert. Given that most of Nevada is desert, and there are a ton of caves, abandoned mines, and over 600 ghost towns, this creature wouldn’t be struggling to make a home anywhere.
Of course, just because it was seen in Nevada doesn’t immediately make it a Fleshgait. But I still think it’s a worthwhile point to bring up. After all, the region’s right, and I think a desolate state like Nevada is the type of place I’d expect to find some sort of horrific monster skulking around at night.
Additionally, the general appearance aligns with that of a Fleshgait—at least, from what Danette described. It’s unclear if the Hopping Creature sported large claws. Nevertheless, it generally fits the description of a Fleshgait. However, the traits overlap with Pale Crawlers, but more on them later.
There’s also how Danette said that it looked “old.” This is something that I’ve heard others point out when it comes to Fleshgaits, but it isn’t consistent. There are numerous claims that say these beings resemble ghouls or corpses, with many reporting the overwhelming smell of “rotting flesh” when one is nearby. Mysteriously, the stench vanishes when it’s disguised as someone. I guess it goes to the same tailor the Incredible Hulk does; its clothing can mask its prominent body odor.
However, there’s one issue here: Danette didn’t smell this iconic odor. While it isn’t a universally reported thing, it’s prevalent in many stories, and I feel it warrants being mentioned. While most are from 4chan, a site that demands a lot of scrutiny when covering something from it, I still believe that taking into account even the most clichéd aspects is important if we’re to treat this case seriously.
Given Danette’s proximity to the Hopping Creature, one has to wonder how she wouldn’t have smelled it. Even if the door to her deck wasn’t opened, that won’t mask the stench of rot. We’re talking about an odor so strong that we’re instinctively repelled by it. While curiosity may make us wonder where it’s coming from, the average person isn’t going to smell something like that and go, “Eh, just another day in paradise.”
On top of that, Danette mentioned the creature had hair running down its back. This isn’t entirely consistent with Fleshgaits, which are normally described as lacking any hair. Well, outside of when they’re disguised as your best friend. When they aren’t, Fleshgaits are devoid of hair. They’re skin and bones (and presumably the other necessities lifeforms require to, well, live).
Now, granted, there are some accounts that describe them as having strands of hair. However, I can’t recall hearing a case where a Fleshgait had long hair that ran down its back. That sounds like a pelt, hide, or actual hair. It’s possible I’m forgetting a few stories, though. If I am, I’d love a correction. As it stands, I can’t find any source that says they have hair.
Moving on, I want to point out another massive issue. Namely, I don’t know of any source that presents them as predators that seek to break into your house to kill you. They are, by all accounts, ambush predators, much like the Chupacabra.
Also, if you’re wondering why the Chupacabra wasn’t brought up as a possible suspect, this thing sounds nothing like one. Even though I covered the Hawaiian Chupacabra a few days ago, this sounds as far removed from that thing as, well, the Hawaiian Chupacabra did.
Anyway, the modus operandi of a Fleshgait is, as I said earlier, to lure you away from others, kill you, assume your identity, and then repeat the cycle. Their ultimate motive is unknown, but I’d like to think their way of impressing their friends is having more identities than I have books in my bedroom.
That’s a lot, by the way.
Suffice it to say this doesn’t align with what Danette described. Granted, it’s possible the Hopping Creature was curious about her house, but I’d argue that this is Nevada. Surely, if it were prone to running (or hopping) around at night, it would’ve come across plenty of shacks and old cabins from centuries prior.
Alternatively, there’s the chance it was alerted by Danette’s dog barking. Unfortunately, there’s no way to prove this since Danette only saw the creature by the time it was on the steps. I have to imagine the ducks were the first to see it, and their quacking caused the dog to bark.
As a result, I have to imagine the Hopping Creature wanted to kill the dog to silence it for fear of being found. If I’m right, that would confirm Danette’s suspicion that it was intelligent and would be a major point in this theory’s favor. So, the fact it’d know to eliminate a sentry would be smart.
At the same time, that does raise one interesting question: Prior to being spotted, why didn’t it target any of Danette’s livestock?
This is the penultimate strike against the theory since I don’t want to pick apart the theory for the rest of my life. That said, it isn’t a major one. Most predators won’t ignore someone or something if it interrupts their would-be meal.
At the same time, if this were here to feast upon the ducks or another animal Danette owned, I’m shocked it didn’t try returning in the time between March and May and made sure to ravage her ducks so it didn’t get caught that time around. Well, unless it fled elsewhere.
I could be nitpicking, though. What I don’t think I’m nitpicking at is why I didn’t include the Chupacabra as a suspect. If this were a Chupacabra, I doubt it would’ve approached the house. It would’ve attacked the ducks, goat, or whatever it wanted and left when its appetite was sated. Never mind the lack of spikes or quills along its back; the fact it didn’t gorge itself upon the livestock is enough to make me disregard it as the culprit.
The way it moved is reminiscent of how the Chupacabra moves in some stories, though, which is peculiar. But that could just be a coincidence.
Speaking of that, that’s the last thing I’ll criticize. As far as I know, Fleshgaits are not known for hopping around. I have never once heard of a single them bouncing around. They either move on two legs or on all fours.
To me, there’s a need for consistency when it comes to how an animal moves. In my opinion, you can’t have something—even a legend or folkloric figure—act one way but twist it to fit the narrative of a single report. Unless this Fleshgait was suffering from some kind of illness that forced it to hop around, there’s no reason it couldn’t just back away while staring Danette down. Heck, I think that’d be a smarter thing to do because it’d look more threatening.
That said, it’s possible the Hopping Creature was injured in some capacity. Danette did say she couldn’t see its legs, so it might’ve gotten hurt when entering her yard (especially if there was any barbed wire around it to keep coyotes and mountain lions out).
At the same time, one would think she would’ve found blood and contacted someone. Yes, I know that explaining to a scientist that you saw a humanoid monstrosity would be hard, but you could make up that you saw something weird and want to know what it was to ensure that you’re not going crazy.
I digress, though. This theory has gone on for long enough; there’s more I want to say, but I don’t want to make this too bloated. As it stands, I don’t think it’s very strong. While there are things that go in its favor, the issues make me doubt that this was a Fleshgait.
Of course, that’s assuming they even exist. In my old write-up, I said I believed they could. Nowadays, I’ve become more analytical and skeptical; I firmly believe in the supernatural, but I’m cautious about saying these beings exist. Then again, that could be my paranoia speaking. If I heard a disembodied voice in the forest, I’d probably run like a bat out of Hell.
Anyway, with that said, let’s move on to the next suspect. It’s the Internet’s other legend: The Pale Crawler. Come along, dear reader; this one’s going to be a lot of fun!
1c. A Pale Crawler
I covered these things for Decemystery 2021. I regret how rushed it was, but that year—like practically every year—was a very chaotic one. That meant corners were cut, and I had to figure out how to make sacrifices. Don’t worry, though; I will one day amend that and do a full-blown rewrite on these bad boys. For now, allow me to give newcomers a rundown of what Pale Crawlers are.
Described as being anywhere from around 6 to 8 feet (1.6 to 2.4 meters) in height, Pale Crawlers (commonly referred to as “Crawlers”) have quite a few similarities to Fleshgaits. They’re tall, hairless, emaciated humanoids with large, black eyes. However, with Crawlers, their eyes are sunken into their heads. Their limbs are also disproportionately long, a feature that I can’t say is in line with Fleshgaits (at least, not across the board). I’ll get to why in a little.
Also, like Fleshgaits, they’re capable of moving around at speeds that betray their gaunt bodies. They’re also powerful; again, they can tear apart animals. However, I don’t know if they’re carrion feeders like Fleshgaits. Some stories mention them killing animals without feeding on them, while others say they mutilate them before dragging them away.
However, not everything is the same. For starters, unlike Fleshgaits—which can mimic human voices—Crawlers can’t speak. Instead, they scream—loudly. This, presumably, somehow constitutes a language amongst all of Crawlerkind. If not, I’m going to guess it’s like they’re stuck in a Discord chat where everyone is arguing with each other.
There’s also their personality, which some claim is quite unfriendly. Actually, that’s underselling it: It’s been said that Crawlers are not to stalk and try to harm those who intrude on their territory.
This isn’t abnormal for animals; plenty will get protective if you enter their den or near their nest. However, in the case of Crawlers, their actions seem more predatory than defensive. This is because it seems like they’re outright not being afraid of humans. They have no qualms with stalking them and tearing apart their campsite if the person leaves.
Another difference is that they have an aversion to light—be it sunlight, a flashlight, or even a large campfire. This isn’t too shocking since Crawlers are said to be nocturnal, so their pale skin may be sensitive to sunlight. Insert your own late-2010s “gamer” joke here. Gunshots also scare them off, but this isn’t unique to them; many wild animals run off when a gun is discharged.
Crawlers also lack the same pungent odor of death and decay Fleshgaits have. At least, not that I know of. While I could be misremembering, Crawlers are not as unpleasant to be around as a sun-baked cadaver.
There’s also the matter of their intelligence. I’ve seen some people describe Crawlers as “smart,” but in my eyes, they strike me as primal. Perhaps I need to brush up on my Crawler lore, but I don’t remember them ever acting as tactically or efficiently as a Fleshgait.
Last but certainly not least is how Crawlers move. While Fleshgaits are often seen as maneuvering like humans, Crawlers get around by running on all fours, making it look like they’re crawling. That’s how they got their name, by the way. I’m guessing that their name changes to “Pale Runner” when they’re bipedal. Otherwise, someone needs to call Merriam-Webster so they can update the definition of “crawl.”
As you can tell, there are some similarities but many more differences. There’s no two ways about it; the creatures are not the same by any stretch of the imagination. I could’ve easily left it at “one is a shapeshifter, the other is the supposed real-life equivalent of ‘The Rake,’” but I didn’t. And, yes, Pale Crawlers are effectively “The Rake,” but real. I don’t know if the story predates reports of Crawlers, but I digress. I’d rather not get hung up on something unrelated to the theory at hand.
If I’m honest, this theory is stronger than the previous one. For starters, the creature sounded like it was slouching—maybe even crawling—when Danette saw it. That would explain why she didn’t see its legs. Also, it’d explain how it hopped back; I envision it bouncing like a frog.
On top of this, the story of the aforementioned Rake fits into this; although it’s a creepypasta, the titular monster breaks into a house to attack a family. Despite it being a work of fiction, this is going to be relevant for a later theory. I never thought I’d be citing a creepypasta in a write-up without a hint of irony, but here I am.
That’s about where the strengths end. Every fault that plagued the Fleshgait theory is evident here, though I think the fact it didn’t try to bust in through the door when Danette opened it is peculiar. If Crawlers are as aggressive as some think they are, I have to imagine it would’ve rushed in by any means to try and slaughter not only Danette but her dog (which it would’ve no doubt seen as a threat because it was barking). But I digress; perhaps it was just too caught off guard by Danette’s sudden appearance.
Lucky for you and me, dear reader, there are only two new additions. The first is that I don’t think Crawlers are known to hop around. While, yes, it could’ve been hurt, Crawlers are known to crawl. I find the idea of it hopping to be weird since that would no doubt hurt its leg more.
Then again, if this thing is less intelligent than a Fleshgait, perhaps that would make this idea stronger. I wouldn’t know, though, because I’m not a zoologist. My understanding of animals, while not horrendous, is far from remarkable. So, if any zoologist out there wishes to bestow upon me some information, I welcome it with open arms.
I digress, though. I don’t want to go on a diatribe about how this is inconsistent with the mythos of Crawlers, given I already brought that up in the previous theory. So, I’ll instead touch on the other new glaring flaw. Namely, the creature didn’t run away when the deck light was flicked on.
According to legends, Crawlers hate light almost as much as I hate anything that has six or more legs. It’s claimed that you can keep them at bay if you so much as have a modest campfire going; they’re like vampires, in a sense.
As a result, I can’t fathom this thing being willing to stand there like it’s around its natural enemy: Thomas Edison (or Joseph Swan, depending on which history book you read). To me, that’s a major problem; it’s one thing for its aggressive behavior to be off (you can attribute that to the barking of Danette’s dog) and even its strange movements. However, its hatred for light is something that I refuse to overlook.
“But what if the the light wasn’t bright enough to ward it off, or it was limited in scope?” I hear a disembodied voice cry out from the aether.
Well, that’s a fair question. Lucky for you, I have an answer: Danette knew the creature hopped over her “northern fence” while maintaining eye contact. There was clearly enough illumination that she was able to discern that it never turned around once; it kept its gaze fixed on her until it was out of sight.
Unless the light was so dim that it had no detrimental effect on the Crawler (which would be a major contrast since these things will run away from the muzzle flash of a handgun), I don’t think there’s anything here that can refute the point. Well, unless my knowledge of Crawlers is poorer than I believe it to be, which is quite possible! As I’ve said in the past, I am not the maestro of the Fortean, and I will never claim to be.
Nevertheless, compared to the Fleshgait theory, I’d say that this one’s stronger. Why do I say that when I just lamented the lack of a reaction to a light aspect? Well, the more animalistic aspect of the Hopping Creature reminds me of a Crawler far more than it does a Fleshgait.
That said, if you were to ask me if I’d be willing to wager money on either theory being the truth, I’d reject your offer. Not only do I loathe gambling, but I don’t see how this was either of the Internet’s favorite legends…
Well, two of its favorite legends. I did leave one out, and I did that on purpose. There is a third, and I want to briefly touch upon it because it does tie heavily into the next theory. But why bother teasing it? Come along, dear reader; let’s discuss the more supernatural possibilities behind the Hopping Creature.
2. A supernatural being (or a Wendigo)
This theory is rather self-explanatory: The Hopping Creature was some sort of supernatural entity. The question is where it came from; what brought about such a bizarre-looking being into our world?
Well, I’m sure that many people would immediately think of Native Americans. After all, this happened in Nevada; many associate the American Southwest with Native Americans, especially the Navajo Tribe.
With that association come legends of curses, spirits, and many other things. I genuinely don’t know when or where the interest in Native American curses originates from. I know of claims that lands are cursed and that buildings constructed on ancient burial grounds are prone to hauntings, but I digress.
If we’re to suspect that this was a Native American spirit of some type, then I’m sure more than a few would immediately think about Skinwalkers, which I brought up earlier. However, I said, they are not monsters—and, likewise, they aren’t spirits. As I said, they’re said to be witches.
Not only that, but there are no Navajo reservations in western Nevada. In fact, as far as I know, there are no Navajo reservations in the entire state. There are Navajo people in Nevada, but the Navajo Nation is located in the “Four Corners” region of the United States. That refers to Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah.
“But what if the Navajo lived in Nevada prior to settlers moving in?” a voice from the aether asks me.
Well, here’s the thing: The Navajo never resided in Nevada. At least, I don’t believe they did.
From what I can tell, the Navajo were only native to the aforementioned Four Corners states. While it’s possible there were Navajo people who resided in this area of Nevada some time ago, I can’t say that with any level of certainty because my Native American knowledge isn’t the best. While I love history, I can’t say I ever learned enough about the geography of where individual tribes lived to know where they lost territory prior to settlements being constructed, conflicts, and other things.
That said, it is possible a group of them did travel out there at some point centuries before any settlers came in. However, there’s no archaeological evidence, nor are there any stories from other tribes that were passed down, so I’m inclined to doubt this.
“What about the Navajo people who live there nowadays?” asks the same voice from the aether, its voice as insufferable as the sound of the buzzing of a house fly.
Given the population distribution of Nevada, which I went over at the start of the story, I find it exceedingly unlikely that there is a large population in Gardnerville. There are roughly 1,400 Navajo people in Nevada. Given that 73% of the state’s population is in Clark County, and Gardnerville only has a population of 6,147, I doubt there’s a large population of Navajo people where the Hopping Creature was seen.
Not only that, but Native American reservations are not just set up in the same way a housing community is set up. They were formed through treaties with the United States government after various massacres and other incidents (such as the infamous Trail of Tears). As such, I don’t believe it’s legal for a reservation—or anything of that sort—to be constructed on a whim.
As a result, I must shoot down the most obvious suspect right off the bat. No, this was not a Skinwalker. This was not what the Internet thinks a Skinwalker is. This is not a creepypasta monster that goes around mutilating people like a Fleshgait that hails from Native American folklore.
Even if the Navajo did have reservations in Nevada, though, the facts behind the stories of Skinwalkers do not align with what Danette saw. So, no matter what way you cut it, they’re two vastly different entities that have as much in common as a doorknob does with a Tonka truck.
“But what if one of the other tribes in Nevada had a similar story?” asks the same voice from the aether, making me wish I could put a muzzle on it.
Well, as far as I’m aware, no, there are no other tribes that share a similar legend. I could be wrong—again, I’m not the most well-educated on Native American tribes, but I know of no other legends, stories, or practices that are akin to Skinwalkers.
The closest I can think of is that of the Wendigo, which is a legend from the Ojibwe and Algonquian tribes (along with others). This would fit a lot more into the supernatural aspect of the theory, but there’s one issue: The Wendigo is a demon from tribes native to Canada, the Northern United States, and the East Coast.
Let me reiterate that the tribes who believe in the Wendigo are not from the Western United States of America.
The Algonquian people traveled as far as North Carolina. If, hypothetically, they had gone from where Raleigh is now to Gardnerville, it would’ve taken them 968 hours to reach it on foot. That’s 40 days, assuming nothing forced them to stop. If my estimates are correct, that’s twice as long as it’d take to get from Ontario, Canada, to Gardnerville.
I love to discuss how far things are from each other; it’s fun. Is that weird? I hope it isn’t.
This, on its own, should debunk the theory, but there are many who say that the Wendigo is a being that spans the globe. That’s perfectly fair; I’ve read many reports of an astonishingly tall and horrifically emaciated humanoid who’s about as friendly as Anton Chigurh.
If you’re a fan listening to scary stories on YouTube, you may have noticed that I left out the part about the creature having deer antlers. That’s because, as far as I’m aware, that’s not a part of the actual legend. I have no idea when or where this belief originated from, but the Wendigo is an ash-grey humanoid that is extremely tall and terrifyingly thin.
If I had to guess, the story somehow became entangled with that of the Deer Man and Deer Woman, the latter of which is spoken about by the earlier-mentioned Ojibwe people.
If I’m wrong, then feel free to correct me. However, as far as I know, there’s nothing about the Wendigo being a monster with a deer’s skull for a head, antlers, and the other aesthetically unappealing things that many people claim.
With all of that said, there are some things that do align with alleged Wendigo encounters outside of Canada. For starters, the Wendigo is typically accompanied by the odor of decay (which makes sense since it’s said to resemble a decaying corpse). Additionally, as I said above, it’s said to be gigantic, being upward of 12 feet (3.6 meters) tall. Its thin body is also in line with the legend.
Bizarrely, though, one thing I never hear mentioned is that the stench of decay doesn’t just accompany the Wendigo. It’s also said that there’s a sudden chill in the air if the Wendigo’s near. I have no idea if this is tied to the part about it having a “heart of ice,” which I don’t recall ever hearing about. Maybe I did once, but I can’t remember because I caught bad luck with the same level of skill that Mike Piazza caught baseballs.
As we discussed earlier, the old appearance matches what Danette saw on her patio. However, that’s all the idea this was a Wendigo has going for it.
As I said, the Wendigo is a demon. Like most demons, it isn’t a peachy fellow who’s going to take you out for a movie and ice cream. In fact, it’s said to be a monstrosity that possesses people and forces them to commit numerous sins. Greed, gluttony, lust, and murder are but a few.
The most notorious one is cannibalism. It’s said that the Wendigo will instill its target with “insatible hunger,” driving them to murder and consume the flesh of their fellow man in a frenzied attempt to satisfy their gluttony. As a result of these visceral acts, it was said that the perpetrator was possessed by the Wendigo, having been driven mad by the demon’s influence.
If what Danette saw was a Wendigo, she would have certainly been doomed. Everywhere I look and read, the Wendigo is depicted as nothing short of a malicious beast that will stop at nothing to harm people. A simple porch light being turned on wouldn’t lead it to stop.
In addition to this, the lack of the odor of death is strange. Like I said earlier, the smell of decay isn’t easily mistaken—unless your nose grew legs and ran away when the Wendigo became near.
As for the frigidness that comes with it, I can’t gauge that. According to “Wunderground,” the weather that day was fine—if chilly. And by chilly, I mean it was around 25 degrees Fahrenheit (3.8 degrees Celsius). Yeah, it gets cold in Nevada. What, are you surprised? Deserts get chilly at night; bring your coat and huddle under the blankets, baby!
I could go on about this for a while longer—and one day, I will. Even though I did cover it back in 2020, I think the article itself is lackluster for a multitude of reasons and needs a lot more detail than it has.
As it stands, I don’t think this is the case. So, what else could it have been? What other spirits are there that could be so unique in not only their method of travel but also their appearance?
Honestly? I have no idea.
The Hopping Creature is unlike any spirit that I know of. I tried to think of other entities out there that would match what I read about, but this is about as unique as I can get.
If I had the time to browse through the numerous myths, legends, and tales of the various Native American tribes who inhabited the land that Gardnerville occupies today, I would. However, as of writing, I’m running so short on time that my anxiety is setting a new land speed record for the fastest thing in the universe. Take that, light! I’m faster than you!
Anyway, I don’t think this theory holds much merit. However, I won’t outright dismiss it because of my lack of knowledge on the matter at hand. There’s so much that I could be overlooking that I feel obligated to revisit this case one day to make sure that I didn’t gloss over something that fits this perfectly.
Unfortunately, as it stands, I can’t see this being the spirit of someone who died. Never in my life have I heard of a ghost leaping back while maintaining eye contact like it was trying to assert dominance. If Gardnerville happens to have a history of strange and abnormal ghost stories, then I would love to look into the town’s history significantly more in the future. Also, I give a great many points for originality to this particular spirit.
On one final note, I did read somewhere that the Wendigo can shapeshift. However, it appears it’s more to adjust its size than to actually take on the appearance of someone—or something—else. I wanted to bring this up here because, no, it doesn’t change my stance on what I said about Skinwalkers earlier in the theory.
I also don’t think it helps to explain the peculiar movements in any way (since the creature didn’t appear to grow or shrink as it hopped). That said, if I’m wrong about this, though, I welcome a correction.
With that said, though, let’s move on to a series of much simpler theories—ones that will hopefully give me enough dopamine to feel reinvigorated. Please, hook it into my veins!
3. Some interdimensional monster
Okay, I got the obligation out of the way; next!
3b. Some interdimensional monster (but for real this time)
This theory posits that the Hopping Creature was from another dimension—I know, how shocking of a revelation. Alternatively, you can say that the Fleshgait or Pale Crawler was from another dimension, but I’m in absolutely no mood to discuss those possibilities when I’m writing this a week before Christmas, and my stress levels are so high that SpaceX wants to patent them for a rocket.
If I’m honest, this theory is in a weird grey area where it’s entirely up to you to decide if it’s plausible. The concept of interdimensional beings is already a really odd one to discuss because there are a lot of ways that we could argue in and against its favor. In fact, I should likely do a full-blown write-up so I can have one to link (and cite) whenever I want to go on a tangent.
As a result, there isn’t that much to discuss here. In fact, the only new thing is that this would explain why the creature never returned; whatever dimensional overlap ceased, or whatever sent it here retrieved it. Pick your flavor—or make your own; I’m sure there are many that my fogged-up mind is forgetting.
Ultimately, I’m going to leave this one up to you. I’ve discussed this theory so much throughout the month that I can’t imagine many of you are aching to hear me discuss it for the twenty-fourth time. If you are, then I’m flattered. However, I must admit that my patience has worn very thin in doing so. This is coming from the guy who will repeat himself ad nauseam about a great many things.
So, instead, I propose we head on over to a theory that I’ve discussed a fair bit less. Simultaneously, it also begins a brief trend of more conspiracy-centric theories. Get your tinfoil on because it’s time for us to have to question the United States government!
4. An escaped government experiment (it totally hopped out of the facility)
Let’s play a little game called, “How many times can we accuse the United States government of having a creature escape one of their super-duper secret facilities before Vertigo does a write-up on what the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) is?”
The answer, dear reader, is probably five. Why? Because I’m at the end of my rope with the theories section to my write-ups and repeating myself.
It’s kind of funny. I didn’t have an issue with doing that last year. Instead, my biggest grievance was getting the write-ups started; I had a great deal of difficulty writing the intros to each Decemystery entry. This year, however, I’ve had next to no issues with the intros. Instead, writing the theories has been testing my patience.
Something tells me that this won’t be the case next year, and I’ll instead hate writing my take or the conclusions.
Anyway, this theory is self-explanatory. The Hopping Creature escaped from a secret government facility or laboratory and did its own rendition of that George Miller movie “Babe.” However, instead of being a cute little pig, it was some humanoid abomination that was thinner than a piece of paper. Well, maybe not that thin, but it certainly rivaled me when I was younger and dangerously underweight.
Hey, wait a moment; how do I know this wasn’t me?
Drawing suspicion on me aside, I think this theory has one major thing going for it: Over 80% of Nevada’s land is owned by the United States federal government. As a result, there are more than a few military bases in the state. The two most famous are Nellis Air Force Base and, of course, Area 51. You know, the place that houses the Venusian, Martian, and Jupiterian embassies.
The Neptunian one is housed in Rudloe Manor. That’s Britain’s Area 51, by the way.
Anyway, given the vast amount of land the US government owns, it’s safe to say there could be more than a few secretive things they’ve done in the past. However, if this were the case, you could submit a Freedom of Information Act request and call it a day. If you don’t know what that is, I went into a fair bit of detail when I covered The Tuttle Bottoms Monster last year.
The abridged version is that it’s a piece of legislation that Lyndon B. Johnson signed into law. If you pay the government money, they’ll look for information and give it to you—assuming it’s not a threat to national security or anyone. Anyone can submit a FOIA request, but the rates differ based on what category they’re in. Executive documents are the most expensive at $76 an hour. I hope you’ve got a rainy day fund!
Assuming there was something fishy going on in the deserts of Nevada that involved creating hopping humanoids, you would likely be able to submit a FOIA request and potentially get something out of it. If you don’t, you can always say that it’s an acknowledgment of guilt without outright admitting it!
Okay, that isn’t entirely true. Given the secrecy of Area 51, you could try to submit a FOIA request for any number of things related to it and get shot down by the US government. That doesn’t mean my belief that the base is housing an unstoppable legion of Abraham Lincoln cyborgs is true. It just means the information about the base isn’t meant for public knowledge due to national security risks.
Why did I mention that? Well, because even if you could get information about what goes on in Area 51 with a simple FOIA request, it’s nowhere near Gardnerville. It’s nearly six hours away—and that’s if you drive.
At least, I believe it to be that far. I can’t get an exact time, but given Las Vegas is roughly 90 minutes from Area 51, I’d estimate that it’s, at the bare minimum, a five-and-a-half-hour drive from Area 51 to Gardnerville. That’s important to know because I’m sincerely doubtful that our titular Hopping Creature commandeered a military jeep and sped out of the famed Air Force base like he was the cryptid equivalent of MacGyver.
Of course, due to the lack of reports about an emaciated freakazoid driving along County Route Cryptid, I’m inclined to believe the thing would’ve had to walk there—or hop. Regardless, it takes around six days to walk from Las Vegas to Gardnerville.
I’m assuming that’s not accounting for the many breaks you’d have to take because of the heat, eat and drink, use the bathroom, fend off the coyotes, and parley with the ghosts of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid when they try to steal your wallet.
If I had to take a shot in the dark, I’d say that this thing would’ve been running—or hopping—for several days, if not a week. The odds of it miraculously wandering over there without the United States armed forces tracking it down is incomprehensibly slim, especially if it came from Area 51. This is a base that is an active No Fly Zone; no aircraft is allowed to fly over it. Heck, there are warning signs telling you not to get close lest you get hurt.
The idea that this creature could not only escape from such a highly secure facility but did so while traversing the rugged terrain of the Nevada desert is truly outlandish to me. I’m certain there would’ve been numerous helicopters in the air across the entire state searching for this thing.
“But wait!” cries that voice from the aether, who I’ve still yet to give a name to because I lack the will to do so. “What if it escaped from Nellis Air Force Base?”
Well, that’s only 15 minutes from Las Vegas. It’s also slightly to the east of the city. As such, I’d guess that driving from Nellis to Gardnerville takes roughly seven hours. Of course, I’m assuming this doesn’t account for any potential breaks one may take.
That said, if we’re to assume that the creature escaped from Nellis Air Force Base, one issue immediately emerges: How the heck did it get through—or around—Las Vegas without being seen?
No, really, how could that have happened? It’s one thing if this creature resided in the area around Gardnerville. However, in a metropolitan area like Las Vegas, I doubt you’re going to be getting around unnoticed when you look like you escaped from 28 Days Later.
Then again, it’s possible the Hopping Creature was transported to Gardnerville from either location because the United States military was hosting the annual Cryptid Olympics for the world’s elite. Every nation brought its most athletic cryptids to complete in some underground facility, and the Hopping Creature had to celebrate winning the gold medal for the triple jump by showing it to Danette.
I think it should’ve stayed to see if Champ beat Nessie and Ogopogo in the swimming competitions—and to see me absolutely dominate in the “Who Can Lose Their Patience the Fastest?” tournament!
I digress, though. This theory is, by all accounts, really weak. I know that I could’ve gone over why such a creature would be made—I’ve done so in the past—but the Hopping Creature lacks the malicious or enigmatic natures that other humanoid cryptids share. By all accounts, it was on Danette’s porch and hopped away. It didn’t kill any of her livestock. It just watched her and left after a bit.
What purpose would a creature like this serve the United States government outside of looking weird? If it was a failed experiment, I have to imagine there was a protocol set in place to euthanize it.
If it escaped, I have to imagine there were measures in place to prevent that, like a lockdown. This isn’t a science-fiction or horror movie where the scary monster can overpower everyone because it’s the strongest thing since Superman. I’m sure that a few bullets would make it fall to the ground and writhe in agony.
Oh well, whatever. Perhaps I’m overthinking things. If that’s the case, then there must be some purpose this monstrosity served (and potentially is serving) that I don’t understand. If that’s the fact, there might be more merit to this theory than I suspect. Until then, I feel like it’s way too weak. It relies on the US army being more incompetent than Patrick Star.
Seriously, if you were that scared about this thing escaping your facility, just have a bunch of doors that require key cards. I doubt its claws could shred steel, titanium, or whatever Area 51’s doors are made out of.
Bah, whatever; I’m rambling. Let’s move on to the next theory, which—funnily enough—also involves the United States government. You can’t escape the watchful eye of Big Brother—nor can you escape the menacing gaze of Big Cryptid (they’re the ones who cover up cryptid sightings).
5. A mutant
This theory ties into the previous theory a bit in that the United States government was the reason for the Hopping Creature’s existence. Instead, it was indirectly responsible; the fiend was the product of radioactive fallout from nuclear testing. Thankfully, if Danette’s encounter is anything to go by, you don’t need to be a courier to come across it!
I went over how this would work when I covered The Skinless, Yellow-Eyed Creature of Arizona earlier this month. While I didn’t mention it by name (which is weird because I thought I did), there was a location in Nye County, Nevada, known as the “Nevada Test Site.” It’s where a ton of nuclear weapons were tested; a staggering 928, to be exact.
Now, because nuclear weapons lead to atomic radiation, this made it bad for humans to be in or near the test site. Why? Because radiation is bad for you, just like cigarettes, alcohol, and reading Dan Brown novels without a bookmark.
Unfortunately, back when this testing was ongoing, Native American tribes were exposed to the radiation. This was done knowingly, and the callous disregard of the United States government’s actions is STILL felt today by not only the Native people but countless other Americans.
If you’re interested in learning more, the 2023 documentary Downwind is about those who lived (and still live) in Mercury, Nevada. I haven’t seen it personally (I hadn’t heard of it until I was writing this section), but it’s apparently a phenomenal movie. If I remember, I’ll definitely check it out; I’ve always been fascinated by the history of nuclear weaponry and the detrimental effects of the tests performed.
Why do I bring this up? Well, it’s because this theory is ingrained in the idea that a human was mutated by radiation. However, instead of gaining superpowers, they turned into an abomination.
This concept has been used as the basis for many superheroes, such as Bruce Banner (AKA: The Incredible Hulk). I don’t know the exact reason, but I do know that mutations to DNA can occur.
That said, it’s worth noting that while the victims of the Nevada Test Site’s atomic radiation didn’t turn big and green, they did suffer numerous side effects. Cancers, deformities, and birth defects are but three of them. It took decades for them to receive compensation for what happened if memory serves me well.
As far as I’m aware, none of these conditions turn you into gaunt monstrosities that make you resemble the Hopping Creature. However, I could be wrong; no one ever said I was the sharpest tool in the shed. If I am, then I do admit that this theory could have some level of merit.
Yeah, as wild as that may sound, it genuinely could. Cases of feral humans do exist, and it’s possible that was one such case. However, that wouldn’t make them a mutant. It’d make them a victim of abandonment; they would’ve been isolated from society and have no grasp of speaking and how to interact with others.
If there was someone in the middle of Nevada who grew up feral, it’s possible they were disfigured due to a lack of proper nutrition, though I don’t know how likely that is nowadays. As I said, cases do exist, but it isn’t like this is a shockingly common thing, especially in the modern era.
There’s also the matter of this person’s potential capabilities. I don’t know a lot about feral humans, but I do know that they are—at the end of the day—still human. That means they’d still need food and water to survive. While it’s plausible for them to have learned to hunt, I have to imagine that finding water would be a bit harder. This is Nevada, not New York City. You aren’t going to come across a plethora of stores, and food stands on every street.
For the record, Nye County’s population back in 2008 was 44,367. That isn’t one town. That isn’t one city. That’s the entire county.
Because of that, I don’t know how probable it is for this person to have wandered from Nye County to Gardnerville. It takes about 5 hours and 16 minutes to drive there. That’s a lengthy drive, but Danette didn’t see the Hopping Creature make its way over to a Toyota Supra before speeding off into the night. No, it hopped; it’s in the name, after all.
As a result, we can only assume that the creature walked—or hopped—from Nye County to Gardnerville. Thanks to the invention that is Google Maps, I learned that that’s a four-day walk. As I said earlier, I’m assuming that means they didn’t sleep or anything like that.
The only reason I could foresee a hypothetical person partaking in such a treacherous journey would be if they were either driven out by someone (or something) or the resources in the area waned. That, or they got into a territorial conflict with the local Pale Crawlers over who was allowed to eat the local jackrabbits.
If that weren’t the case, then I believe leaving familiar territory would be a risky move, especially when anyone with a microscopic heart would immediately call the authorities so this person could get the help they need. And let’s face it: While Nevada may be sparsely populated, that doesn’t mean there aren’t humans living in the state; I have to imagine that someone would have eventually found this individual.
But, hey, I’m not the arbiter of what is and isn’t risky. After all, I am but a humble blogger writing about things that interest him.
Ultimately, I sincerely doubt this is the answer we’re looking for. However, given the prominence of radioactive fallout causing horrific mutations in entertainment media, I thought it’d be worth bringing up. Besides, it let me reminisce on a story from earlier this month. God, I wish I could turn back time so I wasn’t racing the clock. I just want to spend Christmas with my family!
Oh well, whatever. With this theory now done, it’s time we become skeptics so we can try and rationalize this incident. Normally, that’s easy to do. In the case of Danette’s sighting, I’d say it’s an exception to the rule. Come along, dear reader, and watch as I question how my life led up to this point.
Seriously, I’m trying to rationalize a creature that hopped backward like a kangaroo. How on Earth did I end up here?
6. Misidentification… somehow
Yeah, I’m not sure if this theory holds much water. But, hey, I might as well give it the time of day so I can pad out the word count!
Allow me to say right off the bat that I have no idea what on Earth this could have been if it wasn’t some horrific monster. It doesn’t sound like an animal with mange, a kangaroo, or even a human wearing a costume. This sounds like something spawned from a nightmare.
At the same time, and as I said earlier, I’m not a zoologist. Is there a possible answer for what this thing was that isn’t supernatural, otherworldly, or rooted in the realms of conspiracy or science-fiction? Maybe. I wish I knew, but I know of no animal like this one.
Normally, this would be where I’d propose the weather having some influence. Perhaps it was foggy, rainy, or something else like that. Unfortunately, as I said earlier, it was a clear night. Unless I was lied to by a website on the Internet (which, let’s face it, the Internet is nothing is not a reliable source for false information).
The one counterargument I can think of is that Danette’s porch light wasn’t very bright, and that, coupled with her still being sleepy, made her misidentify something. Unfortunately, I can’t explain its enigmatic means of traveling. Not until this was someone who was really good at leapfrog.
Even then, I find it remarkable how no one else saw this. Yes, this is still an issue—even if I immediately shot it down at the start of the write-up. Why? Well, presumably, this thing had to have gone somewhere. Yet, I know of no other cryptids—or anything, for that matter—that sounds like this.
The closest I’ve got is Pale Crawlers, but I already went over their pros and cons earlier. I’d love to repeat myself, but I’m writing this so close to when it’s going up that it’s a miracle I haven’t gone ahead, canceled Decemystery 2024 before it properly ends, and decided to play in the snow because I regressed to the age of six.
Seriously, I’m writing this, and I see snow outside. It’s the first time in four years I’ve seen snow. Oh, how I’ve missed you!
Anyway, I do maintain that Danette likely lived in a very desolate area. But I do find it weird how there’s nothing else I can find that sounds anything like the Hopping Creature. It comes across as its own beast, and it’s made all the worse because I know of no known animal like it.
As a result, I think this theory is extraordinarily weak. There’s potential for some sort of argument to be made, but I can’t say it’s worth putting stock in it. Not when the odds are so stacked against it.
That said, it’s probable that I’m overlooking a lot. As I’ve already, I’m racing against the clock, and my days to complete Decemystery 2024 are rapidly dwindling. As such, if you believe that I overlooked a specific animal that could fit the Hopping Creature, I’d love it if you left a comment telling me which it is. Until then, let’s move on to the next theory; it’s a recurring one alongside the interdimensional theory.
They’re like Yin and Yang, but one man’s obligation.
7. A hoax
Will you get mad at me if I copied and pasted this theory from another write-up, dear reader? You would? You say it would be incredibly lazy of me, too? Dang it. Well, I guess I have to be original.
Okay, in the interest of fairness, this theory isn’t entirely the same as the nearly two dozen times I’ve brought it up this month. In fact, there is some level of reason to suspect that it’s the answer we’re looking for.
For starters, it answers why there are no other sightings of the so-called Hopping Creature. It never existed—not outside of the imagination of Danette (or whoever they may be).
However, it’s worth noting that while I’ve spent the better part of my life reading about cryptids, there are many that I don’t know. As a result, a part of me does feel obligated to keep the door open just a bit (even if I am doubtful of it).
The next is that this is the Internet. Having total anonymity can and will allow you to make up whatever utter nonsense you want for your own amusement. Why do you think the meme, “I’ll take ‘Things That Never Happened’ for $800, Alex,” became a meme? It’s because people fabricate stories online all the time for any number of reasons.
On the flip side, and I’ve mentioned this numerous times this month because of how About functioned, I know of no place Danette could’ve read or seen reactions to her story. As a result, a large part of the fun when making up a story like this is absent.
Now, granted, it’s possible there was a forum for people to discuss the stories that were posted. If that’s the case, I would need to rewrite every article I’ve done on a case from About. Alas, I’ve never found such a forum, so the only reward you’d reap is potentially seeing your case get featured. That’s all fine and dandy, but it seems lame compared to if you could read the responses of those you fooled into believing your hoax.
The third and final thing I’ll make a note of is that it is frustrating how Danette waited two months to submit the report. Yes, it’s possible she wasn’t aware of About prior to that, but if I saw something like this, I would’ve immediately run to my computer and tried to figure out what it was. Surely, if About was even moderately popular, it would’ve popped up early on the front page of Google, Yahoo, Ask Jeeves, or whatever other search engine you used.
At the same time, I don’t know what Danette’s mindset was. Her response to the whole encounter sounds nonchalant, which leads me to think she either knows more than she lets on or is the most stoic woman on Earth.
Or she was lying. You pick, dear reader!
With all of that said, I must concede that this theory is one of the most plausible. Despite the issues that go against it, the fact I know of no other cryptid like this bothers me immensely. One way to discern if a cryptid was a case of mistaken identity—if not a hoax—is if it’s a one-off encounter (such as last year’s Elizaville Monster (AKA: Tall, Dark, & Gruesome). While some may say it was an interdimensional being, I’d argue mistaken identity is more plausible.
On top of that, Danette never mentioned if she had seen any footprints on the ground the next day. If this thing had been hopping around, I have to imagine it’d leave behind some, even if they were faint. The pressure it’d make when leaping would’ve left something, right? Again, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know that the more force you apply to something, especially when pressing into it, the more of a print you leave.
Look, I was never the best at explaining things. Don’t judge me.
Regardless, was nothing left behind? It’s completely baffling to me, and it doesn’t help that there’s nothing I know that aligns with this creature. Unless Danette later asked some neighbor (even if they lived a ways away) about it, and they told her to not talk about it, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t suspicious.
Ultimately, while I think there’s a lot of plausibility at play here, there’s one theory left that could feasibly explain everything—and it’s definitely a strange one. So, for one final time, take’s see what could explain this strange little tale that I’ve extended into something that will ultimately exceed 14,000 words.
I would love it if someone told me how I manage this.
8. A nightmare
This is one of the more plausible theories, and I say that knowing that this story has little going for it when you look at it from an objective angle. Nevertheless, I want to provide one alternate solution to everything before I get to my take.
As Danette said, she was headed to sleep when her dog started barking, which caught her attention. Here’s the thing: It’s possible she’d fallen asleep and didn’t realize it.
As I’ve said in other write-ups this month, you do not voluntarily fall asleep. There is no secret phrase you say that puts you to sleep. You shut your eyes and, if you’re tired, you go to Freddy Krueger’s Happy Land of Sleepytime.
I’d say it’s possible Danette fell asleep and had a nightmare about something being in her backyard. Heck, it’s possible that she read “The Rake” and had a dream about it.
For those who are curious, “The Rake” was written in 2004 or 2005. I’ve seen both years cited; the story originates from 4chan, as far as I know, and has remained one of the most iconic creepypastas ever. It’s also aged as well as milk does when left outside in the summertime.
My Internet scary story opinions aside, it’s possible that Danette had read the story earlier in the day and had a nightmare about encountering the titular Rake, which is described as resembling a “naked man” with large claws (hence why it became the basis for Pale Crawlers—or vice-versa, in the eyes of some).
The creepypasta includes a scene where a woman recounts how the creature broke into her house and injured her daughter. I don’t know how Edward Scissorhands’ lanky brother was able to break in without jumping through a window, but I won’t question it. This is the same story that claims the creature is nearly 400 years old. Ah, it’s almost old enough to apply for a spot at the local Bingo hall!
Given Danette didn’t give her age—nor do we know what she was doing prior to heading to sleep—I’d say there’s a non-zero chance she read “The Rake,” or saw an image of something similar to it while surfing the Internet. It doesn’t strike me as impossible by any means, especially with how the Internet was in 2008.
That said, creepypastas didn’t skyrocket in popularity until the turn of the decade. In 2010, BEN Drowned and The Russian Sleep Experiment were written and are regarded as two of the greatest Internet horror stories ever (with the real identity of the author of the latter story being unknown).
Meanwhile, in 2011, the “original” story of Jeff the Killer was written (the character is purported to date back as far as 2008, though). Jeff’s story is an entire rabbit hole on its own that needs its own write-up because its origin has a history murkier than sewer water. Despite that, Jeff the Killer’s iconic image helped catapult creepypastas into the limelight.
Why did I mention all of that? Well, if creepypastas didn’t really take off until after Danette’s encounter happened, it would be less likely that she dreamt of the aforementioned Rake—not unless she about the gardening tool coming to life and looking like an emaciated Keith Richards.
Of course, that doesn’t make it impossible. However, that hamstring is hard to overlook, especially when it comes to how long ago this took place. I’d try my best to add some anecdotal evidence, like what I may have seen or read at the time, but I recall the 2008 era of platforms like YouTube being predominantly skits, fan-made trailers for movies, and Grand Theft Auto “Myths and Legends” videos. Man, I need to do a write-up on those, if only for the fun of it.
Still, it’s not the most improbable theory. In fact, if I had to rank it, it’d be the second most likely (in my eyes). What’s the top theory? Well, you’ll find out after the meme theory, which is up next!
9. Someone who had the misfortune of watching Kangaroo Jack
I watched that movie as a kid. I regret it to this very day, so I’d understand how this fellow must have felt.
My Take
I have absolutely no idea what on Earth this could have been. Unless this was a dream—which seems plausible, given the sheer oddness of this case—my mind is drawing a blank. It doesn’t match the profile of a Fleshgait, Pale Crawler, or any other Internet folkloric figure or any cryptid the Internet loves to gather around.
Heck, I don’t even need to stop there. This straight-up doesn’t match any cryptid that I know of. Sure, there are reports of “Phantom Kangaroos,” but those animals, as I said, can’t leap backward.
That said, if I needed to pick which theory was the most plausible, I’d go with the hoax theory. As much as I try to avoid labeling things as hoaxes, this is one case where the story rubs me the wrong way. All of the lights are on in the details room, but nobody’s home when I knock on the door to inquire further.
What I mean by that is there’s nothing that aligns with what was described; I said that just before. Because I can’t find anything about this case, I feel like I’m stuck trying to stick a square through a round hole. I’m sure that if I use enough brute force, I’d be able to get it through. However, I’m not going to do so for the sake of not labeling this a hoax.
I may be a staunch believer in the supernatural, but I refuse to bend over backward for this story’s sake. It didn’t pay me enough to do that. In fact, it didn’t pay me at all. None of these stories did! All I’ve got is carpal tunnel syndrome and enough stress to kill a Blue Whale!
Oh well, I digress; it’s possible there’s a detail or two I’m overlooking. Unfortunately, as it stands, this story not only took an absurd amount of time to write, but it was the most taxing on my mental health. So, rather than apply more brain power than I already have, I’m settling to dismiss it outright. Maybe in the future, I’ll revisit it. For now, I think seeing the words “Hopping Creature” will make do to me what “Bagodemon” did in 2023—but significantly worse.
Conclusion
I’m finishing this write-up two days before it’s going to be posted. I just want to celebrate Christmas with my family. But along came the Hopping Creature, thinking it was the Grinch; it’s come to steal Christmas from me while laughing it up.
God, I want to take a baseball bat and knock its smile off its face.
Oh, wait, you’re wondering how I know it’s smiling? Well, dear reader, that’s because I’m imagining it that way. It’s perfectly possible the thing feels a great deal of empathy for having taken away about two weeks of my life. However, being a New Yorker at heart, I doubt that this thing has enough goodwill to spare me.
On a brighter note, I believe you have enough goodwill, dear reader! Why? Well, you’re the dear reader and are, by default, awesome. The Hopping Creature isn’t.
So, tell me, what do you think this thing was? Do you believe it to have existed, or do you think it was a hoax? Or is there a theory that I happened to overlook amidst the chaotic writing period, which was the two weeks it took to make this thing? Let me know in the comments, and, as always, stay happy, stay healthy, and thank you for reading!
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