As a young man I was employed with Transport Canada in Air Traffic Services. It was our job to provide advisories and flight planning services to pilots. This included airports in many remote locations, especially so for our region since we were headquartered in Edmonton. We had the responsibility of staffing the majority of the Arctic airports. At that time there were more than thirty. One of them was Inuvik.
At that time, in the late 70's and being recently married with a small family, I needed a location which provided housing, so Inuvik became our new home. We got there in early September of that year.
Let me describe our first day:
Shortly before our aircraft landed the weather changed and it began to snow, not a lot but enough to accumulate on the grass and few trees. It was already dusk. We drove the twenty or so kilometres into town along a slushy, muddy, slippery road.
Along the way numerous minute biting insects had invaded our car and settled into our scalp and hairline. You can't see them, they're so tiny. They just land and start eating. And they have an anesthetic and anticoagulant in their saliva, so you can't feel them either. Their only detection is the stream of blood and plasma trailing from their feasting site.
After we got to our hotel, a musty old cinder-block building, and checked in, we went to our room for a rest. Going through the hallway we had to step over several of the locals laying about, passed-out. Once inside the room my wife wants to settle into a hot bath to ease the fatigue - well, the water came out brown.
That was our first day in our new home. We experienced culture shock.
However being young and resilient and optimistic we soon learned to adjust. We got connected to two of the local churches, Anglican and Lutheran, and became friends with many people, including the pastors.
Once accustomed to the local way of life, - the always dark winter - always light summer, extreme weather, constant deluge of insects, we became comfortable. We settled in.
One morning, at about 4 o'clock, I was awakened by a presence in the room. It wasn't just the presence of another person or an unwanted animal. This was something far more sinister. And it wasn't just in the room, it was on me. This creature I can describe only as being composed of evil. It had a physical resemblance and stature of a grizzly bear and gorilla combined. It was big and evil and nasty. It was on me and had my arms pinned - and - it was trying to get into me, dimensionally into me.
My initial reaction was one of high alert. Every sense was at maximum. I felt I had to resist this creature with all that I was and to repel it with all that I could. In my spirit I cried out for help, for a weapon of any sort. Just then, in that dimension, appeared in my hand a board with a nail in it. I swung at the creature, freeing my pinned arm. I swung again and it instantly fled.
I was so enraged with it that I called out after it, cursing it and condemning it to the Abyss, in Jesus's name. To be chained there for all of time and eternity. And the creature screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed in terror. Not just something you would see in a Stephen King movie but blood-curdling, agonizing bone-chilling terror. Finally the Abyss and creature became lost into the depths of a long dark tunnel, as if it had been sucked in by a black hole. A calm came over me and I felt at peace. I thought about the incident for a while and eventually fell back to sleep.
Three days later I was at work, casually watching an aircraft being loaded. I saw a peculiar looking crate that had been readied for transport. Being curious I asked my colleague about it and he replied:
"Haven't you heard? Three days ago the Tattoo Ladies (pagan priestesses or witches) from all over the Arctic had a gathering here in Inuvik, trying gain possession of Christians. During one of their trances a chief among them died suddenly, at about 4 in the morning. That's her in the coffin there."
Later I told this event to the pastor of the Anglican church. He said that something similar had happened to him the year previously and he was able to resist it also.
P.S. Years later I learned that was the last time these Tattoo Ladies gathered as a coven.