Ghost of Dead Wolves Terrify Local Man at Brooks Bridge

In 1965, engineers in the U.S. Army Corps began constructing a new bridge over the Santa Rosa Sound at Fort Walton.

The 1935 bridge connecting Route 98 to Okaloosa Island had begun to malfunction and needed a quick replacement.

But little did the engineers know what this new bridge, due west from the old one, would stir up from the wilderness.

Ghost of Dead Wolves Terrify Local Man at Brooks Bridge

Cliff Brane/flickr

Updated 2/10/2020 – Little did they know the structure would cross over something paranormal.

Locals report a strange event that occurs at midnight on the third Wednesday of every month.

When standing on Brooks Bridge, a pack of wolves can be seen walking on the water below.

They follow the same route, rushing in twos and threes over the surface of the Sound.

A few locals have managed to snap some pictures of the wolves.

However, every photo developed is blurry and unreliable.

No matter what camera is used.

Nearby resident, Henry M., has heard of this bizarre event and used to come to Brooks Bridge every third Wednesday to witness it.

“At first I didn’t believe the rumors,” he said.

“But a friend of mine swore it was true, so I took a stroll to Brooks Bridge the following month.

I had never seen anything like it,” he added, shrugging his shoulders in disbelief.

There had to have been about twenty of them.

“I would have taken them for just ordinary wolves, but it was a full moon that first night, and they were relatively easy to see in the dark” he added.

“They were white—ghostly white.”

While rare in the area, one would assume Henry merely saw ordinary white wolves—which is a common color for the species.

“No,” Henry retorted.

“These wolves glowed like how a ghost would glow.

These wolves were long since dead.”

Dead Wolves Lurk at Fort Walton


And have these ghost wolves ever taken notice of you on Brooks Bridge?

Henry paled and nodded.

“I had been going to Walton for about six months now, to see them,” he whispered.

“I must have said something, some comment to myself as they crossed over the water.

One stopped in his tracks—literally just standing on top of the water—and looked up at me.

The Brooks Bridge has to be about fifty feet or so above the Sound, but I could see his face.”

Henry shook his head, and swallowed.

“His eyes were milky white, you know like how a blind dog would look? But somehow I knew…he saw me.”

Henry rubbed at his moist eyes.

“I don’t go to Fort Walton anymore.

I haven’t really been able to sleep much since then either,” he sighs.

Why not Henry?

Henry began to cry openly then.

“Because every time I close my eyes he’s there, waiting for me.

He talks to me, tells me all of the ways my family and loved ones will die,” he sobbed.

“Over and over, every single night.”