The following accounts were compiled from diary entries, forum posts, and personal testimonies. They supplement the original 2006 account and extend the documented record of encounters to 1964.
Diary entry, unknown author, estimated 1964, upstate New York:
It came again last night. Third time this month. It crouches at the foot of the bed and it watches. I have tried to describe its face and I can only say that the face is wrong in the way that a face made by someone who has only heard faces described would be wrong. It watches until I fall asleep. In the morning my husband says I look pale. I have not told him. I don't know what I would say.
Forum post, archived 1998, original site defunct:
My family had a cabin in the Adirondacks that we stopped using in 1987. My father would not say why, only that the property was sold and we weren't going back. I found his journals after he died. He wrote about something that came to the cabin at night, that he had first seen in the tree line watching the cabin from the edge of the property, that over several summers had grown bolder, that had begun approaching the cabin, that had in the final summer of their use of the property come inside.
He wrote: "It looked at the children sleeping. I turned on the light. It was gone. It did not run. It simply was not there. I do not believe it is gone."
He sold the cabin the following month. He never returned to the Adirondacks.
Email correspondence, 2002, names redacted:
Sender: Something came into my yard again last night. White. Hairless. It walks wrong — the proportions are off, the way it bends. It was looking at the house from the lawn. It stood there for about twenty minutes and then it moved back into the tree line.
Reply: I told you to call me if it came back.
Sender: I know. I didn't want to wake you.
Reply: You have to call me. Promise me.
Sender: I promise. It hasn't come inside yet. I think it's still — deciding something.
The correspondence ends there. Follow-up attempts to reach the first party were unsuccessful.
The common elements across all documented accounts: It is pale, hairless, roughly human in shape but with proportions that are slightly wrong — limbs too long, joints at wrong angles, a posture that suggests something not used to upright movement making a studied effort at it. It watches. It does not immediately act. It appears to be evaluating something.
What it is evaluating, and by what criteria, is not known.
The current count of documented encounters stands at several hundred, spanning six decades and four continents. The creature does not appear to be one individual — the simultaneous reports make this impossible.
They appear to communicate. Somehow. About something.
About you, perhaps. About whether you are ready.
What ready means, in this context, remains undetermined.