Near the Black Hills of South Dakota sits one of the largest Indian reservations in the country: the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Home to the Oglala Lakota tribe, Pine Ridge has a long history of trauma. It’s the site where hundreds of Lakota Indians were killed during the Wounded Knee Massacre, and it’s currently one of the poorest county’s in the United States. When it made headlines in 2015 for a spree of teen suicides, many began to suggest that darker supernatural forces were at work in Pine Ridge, citing the urban legend of Walking Sam.
Between December of 2014 and March of 2015, there were 103 suicide attempts made. Nine of those were successful, and none of the victims were older than twenty-five. Many died by hanging. In previous years there had been other clusters of suicides, but none this large. Stuck in a crisis situation with no clear answers, many began to point to a sinister force that has long existed in Native American tradition and lore. Children raised in Lakota households grow up hearing of “suicide spirits,” “stick people,” or shadow people who attempt to lure adolescents from the safety of their homes at night. Over time, and with the explosion of popularity in Slender Man, these stories may have morphed into the single figure now known as Walking Sam.
The Legend of Walking Sam
Though he goes by other names as well (most notably “Tall Man” or “Stovepipe Hat Bigfoot”), most of the stories describe Walking Sam as a seven-foot tall figure with eyes but no mouth, sometimes wearing a stove-pipe hat. When he raises his arms one sees the bodies of previous victims hanging beneath. When teenagers hear him calling, he tries to persuade them of their worthlessness, encouraging them to kill themselves. Some believe he targets younger people because they are more susceptible to his tricks.
There are also those who believe he is not even necessarily a malicious entity, but rather one who wanders the forests as some sort of punishment and is merely looking for companionship. There are also the obvious ties to boogeyman folklore and Slender Man legends, but from a cryptozoological standpoint some believe he may be another version of, or in fact related to, Bigfoot. Finally, for a people group who have such an intertwined spiritual connection between the land and their heritage, some believe that Walking Sam is a sort of physical manifestation of the hurt and trauma that Lakota Indians experience on a regularly basis.
A Growing Epidemic
Whether Walking Sam is real, or perhaps a metaphor for depression, many of the adults at Pine Ridge take the threat he represents seriously, asking for help from government officials in curtailing the devastating effects of the legend. Disturbing videos have surfaced of teens explaining how to tie the rope just right. Pastors and teachers have stepped in at the last moment to stop group suicides. Authorities find nooses hanging grimly from trees. Whether or not these young adults are having their dark desires exacerbated by an ominous urban legend boogeyman remains a mystery. However, what is clear is that in a land plagued by extreme poverty, alcohol abuse, and skyrocketing high school drop out rates, teens are struggling with mental health issues and need proper care and support.
Ben’s love for horror began at a young age when he devoured books like the Goosebumps series and the various scary stories of Alvin Schwartz. Growing up he spent an unholy amount of time binge watching horror films and staying up till the early hours of the morning playing games like Resident Evil and Silent Hill. Since then his love for the genre has only increased, expanding to include all manner of subgenres and mediums. He firmly believes in the power of horror to create an imaginative space for exploring our connection to each other and the universe, but he also appreciates the pure entertainment of B movies and splatterpunk fiction.
Nowadays you can find Ben hustling his skills as a freelance writer and editor. When he’s not building his portfolio or spending time with his wife and two kids, he’s immersing himself in his reading and writing. Though he loves horror in all forms, he has a particular penchant for indie authors and publishers. He is a proud supporter of the horror community and spends much of his free time reviewing and promoting the books/comics you need to be reading right now!
Over fifty years have passed since the original reports rolled into the Defiance Police Department. In spite of the turbulent political climate of the early 1970s (Nicely), this story caused panic. Rampant unsolicited reports ensued, meanwhile, there was a werewolf on the loose!
Outside of the original news articles, not much exists in the way of evidence of the Defiance werewolf sightings. Unfortunately, any articles found these days consist primarily of conflicting information. The focus on theatrics, mystery, and whimsy has only served to dilute the sightings from the summer of 1972.
This story has faced more than its share of scrutiny, undoubtedly small changes to the story over time have taken away from any authenticity it had. Marler stated that “the legend has stuck to the town and locals still talk about it to this day,” but our research has shown otherwise.
While it’s true that the legend has stuck to the town in a historical capacity, there are actually very few people who recall the incident. Those that do remember, however, don’t recall much detail. Nevertheless, most of the town remains relatively unaware of the existence of their local cryptid.
One common misconception about the original incidents is that they did not happen during a full moon. Common lore, however, would suggest that the days surrounding a completely full moon are also indicative of werewolf transformation. So, while the moon wasn’t full on July 25, 1972, it was a Waxing Gibbous moon. For those who want exact figures, it was at 98.18% illumination (“Moon”), which means it likely looked full to the naked eye.
Werecreatures, according to lore, are humans who have been cursed with the uncontrollable curse of transforming into a beast under the light of the full moon (Newton, 149). These creatures are paranormal in nature because they are humans with an affliction that transforms them into a beast. Unsurprisingly, legends have existed across nearly every culture in history, with the oldest reference being from Petronius Arbiter’s The Satyricon.
The appearance of werewolves is most prevalent in American pop culture. Throughout the last century movies, television, and literature have attempted to renew the vigor of werewolf lore ad nauseam. The depiction of werecreatures tends to range from comedic to horrific and this vacillation is heavily reliant upon the genre in which they appear. Regardless of their portrayal, whether comical or frightening, they remain a product of a paranormal world of which scientists remain highly skeptical.
The dogman is a conceptualized werewolf-like creature native to American culture. Dogmen are not considered to be paranormal in nature, since they exist at all times in their beast state, as both half-dog and half-man. Sightings of these wolf-like cryptids have a history of reports from across the United States but are most heavily centralized in the eastern half of the country.
Cryptid Canines of Ohio
For the past half-century, reported dogman sightings have been rampant throughout the state of Ohio. The most widely acknowledged case of sightings happened in the summer of 1972. Throughout the history of the Ohioan Dogman, it has boasted a surprising variety of different physical descriptions. Witnesses never seem to agree whether it presented as a bipedal humanoid, or as a beast walking on all fours.
Outside of Ohio, the most famous dogman in America is the Beast of Bray Road. It was reported from Elkhorn, Wisconsin, and the neighboring region beginning in the fall of 1989. The subsequent film, inspired by real events, depicted a wholly fictitious storyline (Newton, 149).
Is it a Dogman or a Werewolf?
In Newton’s entry on dogmen within his book Hidden Animals, there is a mention of a 2004 encounter with an unidentified witness. The witness claimed to have had a close encounter with a large bipedal creature with a face that more closely resembled a dog than a human. Another witness report from August 2005, coming from the Liberty area, described a sighting of a creature that was black in color and possessed the head of a large dog (Newton, 151).
When witnesses were prompted to describe the creature, each person immediately mentioned that the creature was “very hairy.” Outside of this vague descriptor, the three witnesses gave similar reports of the creature’s appearance (Stegall). DeLoye aptly summarized the physical appearance of the beast, as it was reported by various sources. All reports agreed it was very tall—between six and nine feet. The creature is bipedal but often looks as if it’s on all fours, as it has been seen hunched over on several occasions.
Many reported that despite having an animal’s head the creature resembled a man, or at the very least an upright wolf. Reports said the creature was covered in hair and that it ran around barefoot. Strangely, in place of human feet, it had large hairy paws and wolf-like claws. Potentially the strangest part of the description, by comparison, was that the creature seemed to be wearing blue jeans and a dark shirt. (DeLoye)
The Werewolf of Defiance
Amidst the heat of the summer of 1972, the residents of Defiance, Ohio suddenly began reporting sightings of a werewolf. An alarming number of people claimed to see a large hairy beast running around town, dressed in rags. Such an insurgence of reports came in, that it was far too great for the police to ignore.
Bewildering Encounters
The myriad versions of the myths and legends circulating about both werewolves and dogmen create a preconception of what they are. This means that the layman will assume the information they’ve gleaned from pop culture to be fact, despite the source material’s claims of fiction.
According to news sources, the first encounter with the Werewolf of Defiance happened around four in the morning on July 25, 1972. Railroad worker, Ted Davis, was working on the Norfolk and Western train lines (Pfeifle) at the time of his first encounter. As Davis was connecting the air hoses of two train cars something on the ground caught his gaze. Two huge hairy paws stood before him. No sooner did Davis raise his eyes in curiosity than the creature hit him with a two-by-four. Davis had seen enough to describe the creature as approximately six feet tall, hunched over, and hairy.
Skeptical of Werewolves
Less than a week later, on July 30, Ted Davis and his colleague Tom Jones reported a second sighting of the creature. Davis faced ridicule from Jones, who believed the whole incident to be a joke amongst the crewmen. All of that stopped that night when Jones witnessed the creature for himself at the edge of the railyard (Pfeifle). Jones was a believer.
The creature disappeared into the brush at the same time an unlucky grocer was driving home late from his shift that night. According to the unnamed witness’ statement, a large dog-like creature ran across the road in front of him (DeLoye). After Jones and Davis noted the creature’s absence, they heard screaming from a car stopped on a nearby road (Stegall).
The Crescent News was the largest skeptic of the bunch and reported that “two of the incidents occurred last week and one last night. None [have] happened during a full moon,” despite the evidence to the contrary. In fact, the first incident happened the day before the full moon (“Moon”).
Elaborate Hoax?
Marler suggested that the investigation should have been more thorough. In the original report from August 3, 1972, The Blade stated that “one man, a train crewman switching trains, said that he was approached from behind and struck on the shoulder.” Later in that same article, Davis is quoted as having claimed, “The creature ran away before [Davis] could say anything.” This uncertainty questions the legitimacy of the claim. Was Davis ever attacked by the creature?
In a follow-up article, The Blade discussed how most people in the area believed it was simply a hoax. A man in a costume, or rather “just some nut running loose,” (“Defiance Residents”).
Werewolf Panic Turned Joke
The problem the Defiance Police Department seemed to face, was not that people were reluctant to report what they had seen, but that the panic caused people who hadn’t seen it to begin calling in due to their concern over the situation. One woman called in with such concerns due to her house being adjacent to the train tracks. She had not seen the creature, but stated that the reported sightings had put her “in a state of shock.”
The initial reports by local Defiance news outlet, The Crescent News suggest that they believed the whole thing to be a joke. Journalist Ellen Armstrong added humor to the incident when she reported it in her article on August 2, 1972. She went as far as to state that the police were “possibly armed with silver bullets and sharpened stakes” (Armstrong).
“Even a man who is pure of heart, And says his prayers by night, May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, And the moon is clear and bright.”
Defiance Police, possibly armed with silver bullets and sharpened stakes, are on the lookout for “a wolfman,” who on three occasions, has accosted persons near the Norfolk and Western railroad tracks in the vicinity of Fifth Street and Swift and Co.
Two of the Incidents occurred last week and one last night. None has happened during a full moon.
According to Defiance Police Department, one man was attacked and struck on the shoulder with a two-by-four, however managed to get away from the assailant.
Two other attempts on residents, both men, have not been successful, so the department can’t say if the motive is robbery or just to scare people. No one has reported neck bites.
He, she or it, is described as very tall with “some kind of an animal head.”
Police Chief Don F. Breckler today said if anyone sees the “subject” they should not attempt to apprehend him but call the department immediately, giving a description and the direction in which he was heading.
The attacks have occurred (during the early morning hours, from 1:30 a.m. to 4:20 a.m. — before sunrise.
Ellen Armstrong, The Crescent News. August 3, 1972
Police Remained Alert to Werewolf Reports
The Toledo Blade also began running a series of articles, starting August 3, 1972, on the strange sightings that had popped up in Defiance just a week earlier. Anyone not in the immediate vicinity of the occurrences readily made light of the situation. Defiance police, however, remained steadfast in their duties to protect and serve their small community (Stegall).
The reports baffled the authorities. Unsure what to think about the incidents being reported, they remained skeptical. Despite the number of sightings reported, all of the descriptions were vague. Police Chief Breckler was quoted saying, “We didn’t release it to the news media when we got the first report about a week ago, but now we’re taking it seriously for the safety of our people.” Breckler approached the reports with seriousness. Nevertheless, he was adamant in his belief that it was simply a person wearing a disguise, “such as a mask.” (Stegall)
When probed about his thoughts on the incidents, Breckler admitted that he was, “inclined to think it might be a local person … [since] none of the other area towns [had] anything like [it]. And in each case [the werewolf had] been seen in the same area of [Defiance].” (Stegall)
Motive for a Werewolf Hoax
Breckler was unsure what the motive may have been for a man scaring people in a costume. From the standpoint of a lawman Breckler doubted that the motive was robbery. He pointed out that the targets of these incidents were not the type to have a lot of money (Stegall).
While the panic over the werewolf was overwhelming, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared that early morning on July 25, 1972. Reports of sightings ceased, but the legend lingers on, especially now that information is so readily available in digital format (Marler).
Modern Interpretation of the Werewolf Incident
At the time of Nicely’s article in The Crescent News on July 25, 2013 there were still a few officers remaining in the city from the time, but none seem to remember the details of the case and none of the reports remain at the police department. JoAnne Barton, who worked dispatch at the time, insists that people ask her about the incident fairly regularly and her response is always the same, that she doesn’t “really recall it.” Granted at the time of asking, forty years had already passed, which makes sense that department worker Floyd Stites had much of the same response when asked about the happening. (Nicely)
Were these true werewolf sightings or was it all just a hoax? Since there was no physical evidence to fall back on, it’s hard to say. One thing is certain, if it were really just a man in a mask would it have fooled so many? It’s easy to look back on it from a modern perspective and reason that it could have been a realistic mask. However, in consideration of the technology available at the time for prop masks and practical effects, even large budget movies couldn’t create something altogether convincing. It’s clear that these people truly believed they saw a creature and not simply a man. For, if it were indeed a man, it would have been likely that the reports would have mentioned a man in a mask running around and causing mischief.
Works Cited
Armstrong, Ellen. “Horror Movie Now Playing On Fifth St.” The Crescent News, Aug 3, 1972.
“Defiance Residents Suspicious Of Their Werewolf.” Toledo Blade, Aug 4, 1972, pp. 1 & 21.
“Moon Phase for Tuesday July 25th, 1972.” The Nine Planets, nineplanets.org/moon/phase/7-25-1972/. Accessed 25 June 2023.
Newton, Michael. “Dogmen.” Hidden Animals: A Field Guide to Batsquatch, Chupacabra, and Other Elusive Creatures, Greenwood Press, Santa Barbara, CA, 2009, pp. 149–152.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
There’s something tantalising about an Urban Legend. They crop up wherever people gather, offering insight into that culture’s fears and beliefs. They spread across regions and across generations, twisting and evolving. Centuries ago, they might have all been considered real, with no way of proving otherwise. Decades ago, they would have been told over campfires, with flashlights dramatically clutched beneath chins and shared imaginations conjuring demons in the darkness. Today, the internet has given humanity its largest canvas yet to paint whatever terrors our collective minds can conjure.
Connecting up the planet has allowed for ideas to spread further and faster than ever before. It has allowed for a mingling of cultures and concepts, and even caused global phenomenon. In 2016, for example, the world was awash with ‘killer clowns’. Appearing after midnight, individuals dressed as clowns began to appear in any country that sold clown costumes. Sometimes they clutched helium balloons, sometimes they wore masks or full face-paint, sometimes they would even chase passersby. Each new clown helped inspire the next, like some deranged circus-oriented virus. One moment it was some creepy video on our phones, the next we were getting alerts from the local neighbourhood groups of nearby sightings. Then began the counter movement – people who were so agitated by these Pennywise-wannabes that gangs of grown men would patrol the streets, looking for clowns to beat up. Even governments began to warn its citizens of the dangers, with Russian and Fiji authorities both issuing guidance about the so-called ‘Killer Clowns’.
The sceptic in me still thinks the whole endeavour was some sly marketing plot – IT Chapter One was in production at the time and released the following year, but it seems it was just a completely random viral moment. A photograph from 2014 seems to have been the culprit, showing just how explosive and unpredictable the internet can be. A two year old photo from the United Kingdom, gaining traction in America, then spreading across the planet.
I’m no stranger to American influence on my horror tastes, or the internet for that matter. Growing up in nineties Britain, there was a vast smorgasbord of terrors from across the pond, and just as I was blossoming into my teens, urban legends and creepypastas were finding their way online. Quicker than you can say ‘Candyman’ into a mirror, me and my friends were hooked. We’d share the worst offenders, stories that only exist as intangible shapes in my memory now – serial killers hiding under cars, a hand being licked by a dog-killer, goatmen infiltrating a group of teenage campers. But in my early twenties, something happened to morph this shared interest into an obsession.
The Urban Legend of Slenderman
If there’s a greater poster child for the era of internet urban legends and ‘fakelore’, I’ve yet to hear about it. Most fascinating of all, we can trace his entire origin. Each shift in his evolution, every strand of his existence; logged and recorded for all to see. Demonstrably false. And yet somehow, he gripped the world in his elongated fingers. Such was the power of the Slenderman (or Slender Man) myth, two twelve year old girls were prepared to kill their friend, stabbing her nineteen times and leaving her for dead. Mercifully, she survived, and the two girls received 25 and 40 years sentences in psychiatric institutes.
But what is it about this digital boogeyman that captured the global consciousness so intensely? What can he teach us about horror, and our innermost fears? Unlike his more mysterious ancestors – Bigfoot, Chupacabra, Skinwalkers or the Loch Ness Monster – we know exactly where he started. With his entire lifespan so well documented, he is the perfect sample to dissect.
Let’s start at the beginning, and at the obvious. From the outset, the Slenderman mythos was designed to be a contagious paranormal concept. On the ‘Something Awful’ forum, Slenderman was part of a contest to create paranormal images. Eric Knudsen made two such images of a tall, mysterious figure surrounded by children, and accompanied by text that read like an archival document. One image showed a blurry faced man with hands outstretched, dressed in a black suit. The other showed a shadowy silhouette of a tall figure, tentacles flitting out and extending towards the children gathered around him.
The black and white format and accompanying text made these images feel as though they were cut out of an old library book, and gave the images an authentic, yester-year feel. The two figures, although slightly different, both played around with ancient fears that are embedded in our human psyche. We are afraid of the uncanny. We like to spot patterns and label things. If something is large, hairy, hunched on all fours, we can think of it as some sort of animal, or even a monster. The label gives us some small comfort. Although witnessing Cthulhu with your own eyes may drive you insane with incomprehension, seeing a painted or rendered image of him isn’t nearly so unsettling. No more so than say, Godzilla, or King Kong. For most, the Ancient One fits neatly into the label of ‘really f**king big monster’. But I personally think there are few labels that leave humans more unsettled than ‘almost human’.
Faceless. Unnaturally tall with elongated limbs. Wearing clothes. Somehow, I feel as though it was the third element that truly sent shivers down the forum’s collective spine. We have always been scared of faceless things, and that’s no surprise – so much of our communication is delivered by facial features. Without eyes or a mouth, we cannot read a thing’s intent, empathise with it, or even know if it has seen us. Likewise, we have always been scared of things that are larger than us, or things that possess unpredictable (potentially dangerous) appendages. These are primal fears, seared deep into our subconscious from the time when such fears helped our ancestors survive. But something tells me those same ancestors would not be scared by suits and ties. That is a new fear; one of control, greed and ruthlessness. Whether we recognise it or not, we fear the suited man. He represents a sterile, uncaring world. Finally, there was a fourth, implied element; possibly the most natural and powerful fear we have. Slenderman was targeting children.
Perhaps it was this fusion of fears – old and new, natural and artificial – that so potently enraptured the forum. Suggestions and contributions came quickly, with new images and new opinions taking the partially completed form and solidifying it. Within a thread of forum posts, Slenderman was born, and moulded by committee.
He was ancient. His motives were unclear, but many believed he abducted children and deaths wouldn’t be far behind. He was around eight foot tall, and his skin was pale. His tentacles were downplayed by some, enhanced by others. He was often seen around wooded areas, and in the darkness would be difficult to distinguish from swaying branches or thin, pale tree trunks. Part of his appeal was the lack of ownership. He belonged to the internet. The community could cherry pick their favourite and most unsettling aspects, with the creepiest surviving and becoming lore.
Perhaps it is this aspect of Slenderman that made him so contagious in those early days. A brand new boogeyman; adjustable to each person’s individual nightmares. What did he want? You decide. What happened if he ‘got you’? You decide. How did he eat, or see? Where did he come from? What WAS he? You decide.
For me, I didn’t like the way he almost seemed to be pretending to be human. As if he was a spider, but in a vaguely human shape. I never found the tentacles creepy. Slenderman was at his most sinister just standing there, in the distance, watching. His true power was our own imagination. He left an intriguing blank that our minds were all too willing to fill. It was a collective story the internet was telling in a way most of us had never seen before. There was always another image finding its way online, a new fan-made creation. The lame ones were ignored. The good ones made your skin crawl. But at the peak of my own fascination with the character, along came something that took slenderman to a whole other level. Marble Hornets.
Low budget. Blair Witch-esque. Episodic. I’m not sure which of us found it first, but my entire friend group became obsessed. By the time we stumbled across it, there were only a handful of episodes, but it was precisely this feeling of finding something new and ongoing that really sucked us all in. As well as the videos themselves, the creators would also upload messages, images, and even other in-world youtube channels that would lead to all sorts of speculation and theories amongst our circle. The video series revolved around found-footage that someone had discovered in a chaotic jumbled order but might hold the key to finding an old friend. Prior to disappearing, this friend (Alex) had been shooting a student film called ‘Marble Hornets’, but had shut down filming after apparently suffering some sort of nervous episode. Several clips within this bundle of footage were strange and intriguing; both the paranoia displayed by Alex and the silent, handheld glimpses at Slenderman himself.
Whilst these were always goosepimple-inducingly creepy, what really left an impression on me was the fact that there were new and intriguing aspects on display. Effects I’d never seen attributed to Slenderman. Audio distortion. Visual tearing. As we slowly pieced together a larger picture from sporadic video clips, it was clear that there were rules here. We just didn’t know them. Whilst I watched, we never truly learned them. They were always consistent, but it was left to the viewer to discover what the rules were, and most significantly, what they meant.
Whenever Slenderman was sighted, a visual tear in the lower part of the screen always came first. Was he causing it, and was it on purpose, or just a passive effect? Whenever Slenderman was on screen, the audio was always removed. Had Alex done this, was this another ability of Slenderman, or had someone else removed it? Alex was always filming himself. Was this to protect himself? To act as an early warning system when Slenderman was near?
These questions that came to mind made the story and the mythos akin to a puzzle. The audience was no longer a mere observer, they were made to feel like a participant. There were forums and fandoms set up to solve the mysteries, figure out the secret rules and even communicate with the ‘characters’. I talked earlier about campfire stories. This can often feel like a part of humanity that has been lost – we’re more connected than ever, yet most of us can feel alone and isolated. I think these types of shared storytellings, much like roleplaying tabletop games, appeal to outsiders and introverts because it gives us back that campfire feel. It gives us all some part to play. And when it comes to horror, what could be scarier than inserting yourself into the story?
Ever since those early days, the Slenderman mythos and the experiences I had on that journey have inspired my own horror writing. Any boogeymen or strange objects I can conjure up must follow a set of rules, even if the protagonist and the audience do not know them at first. Once the rules are known, it doesn’t make the horror any less scary. Look at ‘It Follows’ or ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’. If anything, having the threat be consistent and tangible makes it feel more real. Too many horror films rely on characters making bad decisions, with ‘Scream’ even going as far to riff on that trope. But watching characters do things that make sense given everything you know – doing the exact thing that you would do – and still having it fail? That’s terror.
A mix of natural and unnatural. A combination of the recognisable and the uncanny. Vague motivations mixed with rules of engagement. I think it is precisely these contrasts that made Slenderman such a fascinating concept. He allowed the audience to insert themselves into his stories, yet wasn’t so vague as to be all things to all people. During a time where a lot of horror relied on shock, jumpscares and gore, here was a silent figure who just… watched. And got closer. And closer. And closer.
Drive anywhere you want. He’d still be there.
Tell your friends or the police. They wouldn’t believe you.
Flee. Fight. Negotiate. Surrender. None of it will matter.
Your only choice? What you believed he’d do when he finally reached you. Towering above you. Limbs slowly raising. Close enough to touch…
***
Author Bio
Ryan Hunt was born in the gutter and raised by wolves. A freak accident involving harps helped him discover a love for music and danger. He is a certified rascal and is often suspected of telling fibs on his author bios.
His billions of adoring fans have eventually deduced his true identity – an Engineer from Derbyshire, England. When he’s not openly lying to the general public, he can be found with a pint in his hand, and his Border Collie, Pepper, at his side.
His love of horror, science-fiction and fantasy have swirled together into the world of Floor Fifty-Four; an underground government facility that locks away paranormal artifacts too strange and too dangerous to allow roaming freely in our world. His first book, ‘Tales from Floor Fifty-Four’ is available now.
Tritone’s love of horror and mystery began at a young age. Growing up in the 80’s he got to see some of the greatest horror movies play out in the best of venues, the drive-in theater. That’s when his obsession with the genre really began—but it wasn’t just the movies, it was the games, the books, the comics, and the lore behind it all that really ignited his obsession. Tritone is a published author and continues to write and write about horror whenever possible.
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