These woods are dangerous after dark.
In 2018 the teller's girlfriend was working for a cable and internet company, sent out alone to knock on doors in a small rural town near Cape May, New Jersey. She found it an uneasy place. People stared at her or turned away, and the whole town seemed on edge. Away from the main road, though, it was beautiful: long, quiet roads winding through the woods.
Just before sunset she reached her last few addresses, on a small peninsula at the end of a very long road. The road ran past a summer camp, past a trailer park, and then through a long stretch of woods before opening onto a marshy bay with a handful of expensive holiday homes right on the water. Most were empty. She spoke to the one man who was home, and she lingered admiring the houses until she realized the sun was almost down.
As a small woman, she hates being alone in isolated places after dark, and there was no phone signal. She started back along the road at a fast walk. When she reached the wooded stretch, with no streetlights and the light fading quickly, she noticed the woods had gone completely silent. There were no crickets and no birds. She stopped, with a chill running down her spine, and felt watched.
Up ahead, something large stepped out of the tree line onto the road. Her mind raced through bear and dog. It was dog-shaped, but dogs don't get that big. At first it didn't seem to notice her. She thought briefly about going back to the one occupied house, but decided she'd rather take her chances with a wild animal than be alone with a man she didn't know in an empty holiday neighbourhood.
Then it noticed her and stood watching, as if deciding what to do with her. It was too dark to see its face, but she could make out the outline: far too big for a black bear, standing at least five feet at the shoulder on all fours, and hugely muscular, like a wolf on steroids. Its head had the outline of a German shepherd's or a wolf's, with pricked ears and a long snout. Her heart pounded. If it wanted her, she knew she couldn't stop it.
She didn't believe in cryptids and didn't know how big coyotes get, so she told herself it must be a big, skittish coyote. Standing still felt more dangerous by the second. So she let out the loudest, ugliest, most startling scream and howl she could manage and sprinted.
The animal flinched into a defensive stance, then seemed to decide she wasn't worth it and loped off into the woods, though not very far. She ran the rest of the way without stopping until she reached the lights of the summer camp, where she collapsed onto a picnic table, gasping and watching the tree line.
When she finally felt safe, she found her next address. The family there were kind, bought cable from her, and listened to the story. The mother asked why on earth her company had sent her out there alone. These woods are dangerous after dark, she said, and she hinted at animal encounters of her own that she couldn't explain. The family insisted she call her team leader to be picked up and not go back outside. She still has no idea what she saw, and she hopes never to see it again.