The Pishtaco Returns: The Face Peelers of Peru

In late July 2023, a fifteen-year-old girl named Talia went to pick tangerines near her home on the edge of Alto Nanay, a quiet village deep in the Peruvian Amazon. The afternoon was still when she noticed movement among the trees. Turning to look, she saw a tall figure standing just a few feet away, more than two metres high, dressed in black armour that caught the sunlight. When she tried to run, it grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth.

She stumbled back as the figure reached out, spreading something across her face that stung her skin and clouded her vision. The air around her seemed heavy, her thoughts slowing as the burning spread. She tried to cry out, but her voice caught in her throat. The grip loosened suddenly and she dropped to the ground, dazed and struggling to focus. Through the blur she saw movement, two tall shapes slipping between the trees, their armour catching the light as they lifted silently from the forest floor.

By the time her family reached her, the clearing was empty. The trees swayed as if something had just passed through them, and the only sound was her uneven breathing. They found her shaken, her face swollen and the skin around her eye reddened by whatever had touched it.

Word spread quickly through Alto Nanay and neighbouring communities along the Nanay River. Residents spoke of intruders who seemed untouchable, able to move through the air without sound. Patrols were formed to guard the riverbanks and paths between villages. People began to call the attackers pelacaras: “face peelers.”

In the weeks that followed, more villagers came forward with similar accounts. Some claimed to have seen tall, metallic figures along the river at night. Others described beams of light cutting through the tree line, or heard a low hum overhead that stopped as suddenly as it began. The fear spread from one settlement to another until the region was living under curfew, with armed patrols staying awake through the dark hours and families sleeping in shifts.

To many locals, the attacks were more than a new threat, they were the return of an old fear. For generations, people in the Andes have spoken of the pishtaco, a pale stranger said to murder travellers and steal the fat from their bodies. In the stories told long ago, the fat was taken to make oils, medicines, or even to grease church bells. Later, it was said to be used by foreign companies to power machinery or cure disease.

In one account from the early twentieth century, villagers near Ayacucho claimed that men travelling on horseback carried knives and metal tubes to drain the fat from their victims, vanishing before soldiers could catch them. Decades later, when road crews and missionaries arrived in remote areas, rumours spread again — this time saying they needed fat to keep their engines running.

To many in Alto Nanay, the pelacaras sounded like the same figure, only changed to fit the time: no longer on horseback, but rising into the air; no longer armed with knives, but wrapped in metal and light.

The panic drew the attention of the authorities. The Peruvian Navy sent patrols upriver, finding frightened families and abandoned watch posts, but no trace of the attackers. Villagers described metallic bodies, green eyes that glowed in the dark, and a noise like machinery. None of it matched anything the investigators could explain.

When the story reached international headlines, it was presented as an oddity, a mix of hysteria and folklore. Officials later concluded that the events had been staged by illegal gold mining gangs trying to drive locals away from resource-rich land. According to the National Prosecutor’s Office, the gangs had used drones, jetpacks, and protective suits to create the illusion of alien beings. Two Colombian men were arrested in connection with the mining operation, though both were released within weeks.

Even so, the questions did not end there. Only weeks before the first sightings, Peru’s Congress had approved a six-month joint training mission with the United States. American military personnel, from the Army, Navy, and Air Force, had been authorised to operate across several regions of the country. No connection between that deployment and the incidents was ever confirmed, but in a region with a long memory of exploitation, the timing caused unease.

For the people of Alto Nanay, the explanations mattered less than the experience itself. Patrols continued long after the reports faded from the news, and many still avoid the areas where the attacks took place. Some say that on quiet nights, a faint hum still moves through the trees, the same sound that once stirred panic in the dark. Talia rarely speaks about what happened, but those who know her say she never walks the river paths alone.

Whether the pelacaras were miners, soldiers, or something beyond both, they left behind accounts that no one has been able to explain. In the Amazon, where memory and legend often meet, the face peelers remain part of a mystery that continues to haunt the region.