Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 4 TRUE Road Trip & Deep Woods Horror Stories You Won't Believe

Episode Date: June 3, 2024

Get ready to be spooked with these 4 true road trip and deep woods horror stories that will send chills down your spine. From eerie encounters on deserted highways to terrifying experiences in the heart of the woods, these stories are sure to make you think twice before your next outdoor adventure. Watch if you dare! Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to www.justcreepy.net Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:19:08 Story 2 00:30:10 Story 3 00:46:54 Story 4 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #redditstories #deepwoods #roadtrip 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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It matters where you stay. Hilton for the stay. It was Mia's idea to go camping. In fact, most things we do start out as one of her ideas. Neither of us were exactly outdoor enthusiasts, but we had both grown up in rural towns and did our share of hiking and fishing growing up. So I wasn't exactly daunted by the idea of spending a few days in the woods,

but I wasn't excited either. School had just let out for spring break, and after another semester of getting kicked by midterms, it was very tempting to give in to my body's design. for a few days of uninterrupted sleep. Uninterrupted sleep, unfortunately, was not Mia's idea of a good time. She had been suggesting the idea to me for weeks beforehand, and I had always brushed her off by claiming I had other things coming up. But by the time the break rolled around, I had run out of excuses, and she had already prepared everything with me in mind. So it was decided. We left on Sunday.

Despite Mia making me wake up before the sun even rose to get on the road, I found myself in a strange, I had spent most of the previous day either eating or napping, the most uninterrupted rest I had gotten since Christmas. We drove up from Bakersfield, her truck bathed in the light of the desert sunrise. At first, we spoke of classes and tests, and then of a camping spot that she had found in the forests of the Sierra Nevada. It wasn't actually a campground, she informed me. It was something called dispersed camping, which means you register a permit with park services, and then pitch a tent wherever you like. This also meant no water, heat, or electricity.

Leave it to Mia to make sure everything we do is to the extreme. By the time the desert scenery had bled into the browns and greens of the Sierra foothills, I had rifled through all of our packs. I trusted Mia with the planning, but now that I realized we were going to be a little more off the grid than previously anticipated, I just wanted to make sure. We each had our own private tents and sleeper, bags, along with a few days supply of food and water. Cooking utensils, first aid kits, and other

items were divided up between our two packs, which were already stacked high enough to peek over my head when they were on my back. I recognized landmarks near Sequoia National Park in King's Canyon, but Mia took us farther north, and I lost track of the terrain. She turned on a trail that led us deeper into the mountains and pulled over when it ended at the foot of a hill. I was out here last week looking around for spots, she said, opening the car door. If we hike around this hill here, there's a sort of little valley with a lake at the bottom where we can set up. I groaned a little as I shrugged on my pack. How long a hike? I asked.

I took a step forward and winced at the sound of pots clanging together. Next time I'm packing my own bag. Maybe half an hour or so. A little cardio never heard anyone, I guess, and I bumped the pack higher before tightening the hip strap, trying to keep the weight from dragging on my shoulders. Mia was right. Just around the hill,

the terrain dropped dramatically towards a lake at the center of the valley, almost like a caldera, though I doubted there used to be any active volcanoes around these parts. Mia led the way down, through some steep ground, where I worried I might slip and roll all the way down into the lake. but the firm dirt made good footing and the trees made good handholds. Mia suddenly stopped. I heard the rushing of water.

I peaked around her shoulder and saw that in front of us lay a stream, almost a small river if I was being generous. It also led towards the lake, but a bend in the trail meant we had to cross it to continue. The snows up in the mountains must have begun to melt because the stream had swelled in size, and the log that lay across it was already submerged by a thin, layer of water. Only a few more minutes of walking after we cross this, Mia said,

nudging the log with the toe of her boot. It seemed sound enough despite being underwater. I'd watch out, I said, leaning over the stream. There were tiny ripples at the surface, but it looked placid. They say that streams like these only look calm on the surface. Mia snorted out a laugh and stepped onto the log. Yeah, that's why I don't plan on swimming in it. She began to shimmy across, and after a few moments I shrugged and joined her. It wasn't a far crossing, maybe 20 feet, and we were making fast progress, but in the end, it was always the little things that got you. A little more than halfway across, Mia's foot slipped and she leaned forward to regain her balance.

Her sleeping bag, tied to the top of the pack, broke loose from one of its straps and fell forward over her shoulder until it was caught mid-air by the remaining strap. That little momentum was enough. Mia tottered for a split second, and then fell. I was right. The current was fast. She reached out a hand to grab onto the log, but by the time she resurfaced, she was already too far downstream. I began to scramble across, hoping to get to the other side before she was pulled too far away. I guess some luck was on our side that day. The stream was fast,

but it wasn't deep and it couldn't pull her under. Some 20 yards downstream, her pack had caught onto a fallen tree, and that was how I found her, gasping and sputtering. Maybe it was a combination of the adrenaline and the ice-cold water, but by the time we stumbled to the spot where we were going to set up camp, Mia was laughing hysterically. She had rolled her ankle during her stint in the stream and was limping on ahead of me while I stumbled after her with her pack,

in addition to mine, strapped to me. I don't plan on swimming in it, Mia giggled from ahead of me, and then I fell right into the damn thing. Even I had to smile at that, despite being stuck with around 60 pounds of supplies. Maybe I did need some more action in my life. Now I really had a story to tell when I got back home. It was just about noon by the time we finished pitching our tents and hung our wet clothes out to dry. Mia began digging a fire pit to cook our lunch as we had neglected to bring a jet boiler. I took this moment to take stock of my surroundings and was pleasantly surprised that we found a genuinely beautiful spot to set up camp.

We were by the edge of the lake, where the mountains flattened out, and the tree line ended a few yards from the shore. After being in school dorms for nearly a year, the amount of quiet was almost uncanny, the only sounds being the wind in the trees and the waves breaking against the sand. It was alluring, like a lullaby. Mia cussed beside me and I looked over. her. She was struggling to get the fire going. Her hands shook as she tried to light another match. A small pile of used ones already lay by her knee. Let me try, I said, sitting up. She had almost been pulled away by a stream an hour ago, I reasoned.

Sometimes the shock only hits you after the adrenaline has gone away. I had more luck, and after the fire got going, the rest of the afternoon and evening went by pleasantly. I rummaged through my pack and found that Mia had packed marshmallows and chocolate, for s'mores. I tossed the packaging on the ground and jokingly said, I see my pack was so heavy because it was full of all these essential supplies. Mia grinned and then shrugged innocently. She grabbed the package of marshmallows and began unceremoniously shoving them into her mouth. Aren't those for cooking? I asked, and Mia looked up at me with a very well-acted look of confusion. I laughed. When the sun set,

both of us agreed to retire early so we could wake up at sunrise to, to explore the area in the morning. I shimmied into my tent and pulled the zipper closed. I checked my watch one last time before letting the sound of waves lull me to sleep. I woke up in the dark, and something was wrong. The air was heavy and my skin was clammy as if I had just broken a fever. Nothing was disturbed inside my tent, and the outside was still quiet. There was nothing reasonable that could have caused this feeling.

It's hard to explain. Thinking back on it, the only conclusion I could come to is that we, as a species, are old. Younger than the forests and mountains, of course, but still old enough. And in that time, we have seen many things. You can conjure up your life experiences and logic all you want, but deep down, there is a part of you that simply knows when something is wrong, and in that moment, I knew. Suddenly there was a light tapping on the flap of my tent, and then a voice. You need to come outside, Mia whispered, sounded terrified. I took a few deep breaths and clenched my pocket-knife in a white-knuckle

grip. In a flurry of motion, I unzipped the flap and stuck my face outside. I came face to face with Mia. Her hair was disheveled, and she looked to be on the verge of tears. I opened my mouth, but she clamped a hand down over my lips and motioned for me to be silent. For a few moments neither of us spoke, and the only sound to be heard was our heavy breathing as we stared at each other. But then Mia's eyes slowly drifted away from mine towards the lake. I saw her pupils dilate until I could barely see the color of her eyes. Run, she whispered. I didn't have time to question her. She leaped up and sprinted into the woods. I didn't waste a second before getting up and following her. The two of us crashed through the undergrowth. Perhaps Mia was

clearing the way in front of me because it was strangely easy. Maybe I was simply scared. Mia! I called to the shape in front of me, but there was no answer, only the sound of her breathing and the cracking of branches. Mia, what's going on? Still nothing. And then, the adrenaline in my system began to run out, and suddenly I stopped. It was dark, almost too dark to see. We had left all our lanterns back at the camp, and the canopy practically blocked out any moonlight. We'd been running for several minutes, but there were no cuts on me, or burst. branches clinging to my hair. It was like I hadn't been forcing my way through the trees at all. It was as if they were welcoming me. Ahead of me, Mia had stopped too. She was standing still, and I couldn't hear her breath anymore. We have to keep going, she said. Her voice strangely level.

Not until you tell me what's going on, I called back. Mia shook her head. It was even darker where she was standing, and I couldn't make out her face. But behind her was some sort of clearing, and the light coming through silhouetted her against the trees. We're almost out of the forest, she said, and I saw that she was right. There was nothing I would not give to be out of this god-forsaken forest. But no, it couldn't be. It took us half an hour to hike here, and that was downhill. The forest could not end here.

I was being reeled in, like a fish chasing a worm on a hook. Mia turned around, and as she did, she took a step towards me. an impossibly huge step. She had been several yards ahead, and now we were almost face to face. I ran. I turned around, and I ran like I was being chased by the devil himself.

If the trees had been welcoming on the way in, they were the opposite on the way out. Branches caught on my clothes and cut my arms and face. I kept on stumbling over tree roots and rocks, but I was undeterred. Behind me, I heard her running after me, but it didn't sound like Mia any longer. It sounded like,

like it had four legs. I wasn't even tempted to turn around. I was too focused on running, and my eyes stayed locked on the light that marked the end of the tree line. I practically dove onto the beach and fell hard onto my hands and knees. I felt the bones in my wrist crunch at the landing.

I continued to crawl until I was almost in the water before I turned around. There was nothing there. I wasn't far from my arm. our tents, and I watched in wonder as Mia's tent unzipped from the inside, and she stepped out. What are you doing? she asked grogily. I ran towards her and practically tackled her into a hug. It was thanks to Mia that we both didn't fall because in that moment my knees gave out. There's something in the forest, I said, and to her credit she immediately grew serious.

Did you see someone? she asked, scanning the dark line of trees looming over us. No, I said. well yes but I don't know and at that moment I didn't want to tell her what I saw because speaking of it makes it all the more real something tried to lure me into the forest I said at length but I don't think it's human Mia just stared at me for a split second I thought she was going to call me insane but it never came we need to get to the truck she said if she had any questions she refrained from asking them No, I replied, regaining some of my composure. It wants us in the forest.

We're as good as in the forest right now, Mia reasoned. The truck is right there. We need to leave. I looked up, and I could see the glint of the truck in the moonlight at the top of the hill. It seemed so close. I outran at once. We could do it again. And there'll be two of us this time.

Once we're there, we'll drive, and we won't stop until this freak show is hours behind us. We could be in Bakersfield by morning. But no, no, we couldn't, because the truck is more than a mile away, tucked behind some hill. We shouldn't be able to see it from here. It was simply impossible. Whatever it was, it was a good hunter, I admit. Because good hunters don't chase you with drums and torches. They come at night, and they come quietly, disguised as everything you could want.

When you are in the dark, they are a light. when you are trapped they are escape and when you are lonely they are company i pushed mea away why didn't you wake up when i ran into the forest i asked she shrugged and her facial expression clearly showed that she thought i was being an idiot you were quiet she replied but you heard me when i came back she looked me in the eyes i guess you were louder there was a tense moment between us where no one spoke then Mia threw her hands into the air in exasperation. What use is this? she shouted. We need to leave. I shook my head and took a step back.

No, I said. I'm staying here. She looked at me like I had finally gone insane, but I wouldn't budge. Mia took a step toward me, and I flipped my pocket knife open and pointed it at her. She stopped in her tracks and stared at me. You couldn't say she looked surprised. So it's going to be like this, huh? I nodded, and the two of us lapsed into yet another silence. After a while, she sat, and I followed suit.

She talked to me all night. At first she tried to convince me that we needed to leave. She begged me, in fact. She talked about how close the truck was and how dangerous it was to be out here. Then, as the night dragged on, she spoke of stranger things. She asked me if I was tired, and I didn't reply. You never have to be tired again, she said. I don't just mean tonight.

What will you do once you leave? Go back to your life, work. You will be tired for the rest of your life. You will die tired. She made a sweeping gesture with her hand that encompassed the expanse of trees behind her. You can stay here forever, she said. I promise you will never be tired again. When I didn't answer, she began to speak of her sisters.

I knew for a fact that Mia had no sisters. She talked about how they would gather berries for me and how they would make me a crown of oak leaves to wear. She told me that they stitched clothes with no seams and made fabrics from the foam of the sea. I was in a trance. She painted pictures in my mind of how they would fashion me flutes and harps, and how we would go dancing through the forest during winter,

leaving behind only footprints in the snow. When you sing, she said smiling, the snows will melt, and you will bring in the first floor, flowers of spring, and even so I did not move, and I did not sleep. Finally, just before dawn broke, Mia stood. So, this is it, and her voice didn't even sound like Mia's anymore. A marvelous hunt comes to an end, and she bent at the waist in a mock bow before turning around and walking into the woods.

You may leave, she laughed over her shoulder as she melted into the shadows. Her laugh echoed across the valley, making ripples in the water and shaking the trees like the wind. I didn't trust her. I waited until the sun was high in the sky before leaving everything but my knife, and I ran for it. I encountered nothing in the forest on the way back, but I also didn't stop to look. By the time I reached the truck, my legs were burning, and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. I am not lying when I say I did not touch the brake pedal even once driving out. out of those mountains. I never looked behind me either, but the trees cast shadows on the ground as I passed them, and just before I reached the edges of the foothills, I swore I saw one in the

shape of a woman, and I saw it waving. I called park services at the nearest town, and gave them a polished version of what happened. They searched the area and found Mia's body face down in the lake, carried there by the current. I don't know what I pulled out of that stream, but it wasn't her. It might sound twisted, but I was relieved to hear the news. I had thought that, well, that maybe Mia had never been there with me, that it had planned this whole trip from start to finish. I'm still in shock, but I will mourn for my friend when the time comes. I saw the stream.

I knew how shallow it was. Mia should not have died, but it killed her. It got her, and it would have got me. So, as beautiful as its words sounded, I did not stay. It has no power outside. It lives in the forests. I will say it again. It lives in the forests.

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disease, Myasthenia Gravis or Lambert Eaton syndrome, and medications. including botulinum toxins, as these may increase the risk of serious side effects. Why wait? Ask your doctor. Visit Botox Chronic Migraine.com or call 1-800-44 Botox to learn more. The morning was crisp, the sort that bites at your cheeks, and reminds you why a thermos full of coffee is a hiker's best friend. I'd set out early, aiming to break in a new pair of boots on an unfamiliar trail I'd scouted on an old coffee-stained map of Washington State I kept rolled up in my truck's glove compartment. There's something about the quiet solace of the wilderness that always drew me in, away from the noise and clutter of everyday life. As my boots crunched over the frost-hardened path,

the sun broke through the canopy in a lazy dappled pattern, lighting up the vibrant greens and deep earthy browns of the forest. I was alone, or at least I thought I was, in a landscape where towering conifers whispered ancient secrets and the air smelled sharply of pine and damp moss. deciding on a whim to veer off the Mark Trail, I ventured deeper into the woods. The further I went, the more the forest seemed to close in around me. The sounds of civilization faded until all that remained was the rustle of leaves

and the occasional distant call of a hawk. About 20 minutes in, I found myself in a sunlit gully that promised new discoveries and perhaps a view worth capturing on my camera. That's when I saw it, half-hifted. hidden by a low shrub, a rusty metal ring, jagged and menacing. A bear trap, old and cruel-looking, lay in weight. My heart skipped a beat. One careless step more, and I'd have been in a world of hurt.

Instinctively I took a step back, surveying the area with a new-found wariness. The hell you doing out here! The voice shattered the serene silence, gruff and laced with suspicion. I spun around, my hand instinctively reaching for the bear spray on my belt, only to find nothing but air. Who's there? I called out, trying to sound more confident than I felt. He emerged from the brush like a ghost of the forest, a tall figure, his presence as rugged as the wilderness around us. His long gray beard tangled with his dreadlocks, and his skin

was weathered like leather, the scars and lines telling stories I wasn't sure I wanted to know. His eyes, intense and unblinking, fixed on me as he cradled a bolt-act-act- rifle in his arms. I asked you a question, son. What are you doing here? His tone was commanding, leaving no room for a weak response. Swallowing hard I managed, just hiking, sir. I didn't realize anyone was living out here. He eyed me for a moment longer, his gaze piercing. Then unexpectedly, his expression softened slightly. You see that trap back there, son? He nodded toward where I had just been standing. I nodded, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. Yes, I saw it. He spat a wad of tobacco into the dirt, his eyes never leaving mine. Guess that means I got to hide him better. For a moment,

his deadpan expression made my heart plunge, but then, without warning, he burst into a raspy, deep-throated laugh. Oh, I'm just kidding, son. He wiped a tear from his weather-beaten cheek, still chuckling. The tension broke, and I couldn't help but let out a relieved laugh, though it sounded more nervous than I intended. As he slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped closer, extending a rough, calloused hand, he introduced himself. Names Mark Hastings. I took his hand, the grip firm and unyielding. Nice to meet you, Mark. That handshake sealed the beginning of an unlikely friendship, forged in the remote wilderness, where the shadows held secrets and the trees stood as silent witnesses.

Mark's cabin was a patchwork of salvaged wood and stone, a testament to the rugged resilience of a man who chose wilderness over civilization. Over time, I'd grown accustomed to the crackle of the fire and the earthy smell of rabbit stew simmering on the hearth whenever I visited. These visits had become my retreat, a place to escape the unending grind of the city. One evening as shadows lengthened and the sun dipped behind the, jagged peaks, Mark and I sat on mismatched wooden chairs outside his cabin. The air was cool,

carrying the promise of night as Mark poured two glasses of his homemade honey ale. The amber liquid glowed in the fading light, and I took a sip, appreciating the subtle sweetness that tingled on my tongue. You ever seen anything really creepy out here? I asked. Curiosity peaked by the isolation and wild rumors I'd heard about these parts. Mark's face, usually an open book of hard lines and weathered expressions closed off momentarily. He set his glass down with a deliberateness that made me tense. Zach, I tell you, there's things in these woods that'd make your skin crawl. He began with the tale of the whistler, a phantom sound that seemed to drift through the trees on nights just like this one, started off as just whispers on the wind, you know, but one night,

he leaned closer, lowering his voice. It was like it was calling to me from the darkness, Saw it too, up in the trees. Not human, not animal, something else. The fire popped, a spark shooting up into the night, as if punctuating his words. I shivered, not entirely from the cold. It gets weirder, Mark continued, his eyes reflecting the firelight as he described finding mutilated animals near his cabin. Rabbits, squirrels, even a deer once. And then, one morning, a firelight.

Puma, not killed by any beast I know. It's something cunning, something bad. The tales spun into the night, each one more unsettling than the last. When he spoke of government men in the woods, his voice dipped to almost a whisper, tinged with a blend of fear and anger. They're up to something out here, Zach. Seen him with my own eyes, doing things they shouldn't, makes you wonder who the real monsters are. His stories filled the crisp air. air, weaving a tapehouse of conspiracy and supernatural that was hard to dismiss outright, given the setting and the solemn sincerity in his tone. It was during one of these conversations that Mark mentioned the tunnels. There are places out here deep below that ain't on any map. Old tunnels, long

forgotten. I reckon that's what they're after, or maybe they put them there in the first place. Curiosity overcame me. Can you show me? Mark's gave. turned steely, his jaw set. It's dangerous, Zach, but I suppose it's better you see with your own eyes. We agreed to go the following morning, and as I left that night, the forests seemed to close in around me. The usual nocturnal sounds were there, but so too was a silence that seemed laden with the weight of unspoken secrets. I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever lay hidden beneath these woods was not meant to be disturbed. The sky was a bleak tapestry of grays as I followed Mark through the dense underbrush, the chill morning air biting through my jacket. His stride

was purposeful, his shoulders tense beneath the old brown coat he always wore. The deeper into the woods we went, the more I felt the oppressive weight of the unknown pressing down on us. We rounded a bend and there it was, hidden away behind a thick grove of trees, an ancient stone-lined tunnel entrance, partially collapsed, its dark maw like a warning. Mark's a dark maw like a warning. Mark's stopped a few feet away, his face unreadable. This is it, he said, his voice low. One of many, but the only one I'll dare to show. The opening was blocked by rubble and earth, as if the forest itself had tried to swallow it back up. I approached, peering into the shadows, feeling a mix of thrill and dread. What's inside? I asked, my voice echoing slightly against

the stone. Bad things, Mark replied simply, turning to scan the surrounding trees. Things forgotten and meant to stay that way. I studied his profile, the lines deepened by years of solitude and secrets. Why show me this? Because you ought to know what's out here, especially if you keep coming back. His gaze was stern, almost fatherly. There are things in these woods that don't take kindly to intruders.

We didn't linger. Mark seemed anxious. his eyes darting to the shadows that clung to the trees. As we walked back, the silence of the woods was oppressive, the usual sounds of wildlife strangely muted. Mark's stories replayed in my mind, of creatures, government conspiracies, and whispers of the supernatural. Back at his cabin, the fire crackled a warm welcome,

but the comfort it offered felt shallow against my unease. Mark busied himself with skinning the rabbits he'd caught in his traps, but there was a tension between us that hadn't been there before. Mark, have you ever thought that maybe these stories, these things you've seen, are just your mind playing tricks, I asked, the question hanging awkwardly in the air? He stopped his work looking up with a wry smile. You think I'm crazy, huh? Not crazy, just isolated.

It can do things to a person's mind. Mark nodded, considering this. Maybe. But I know what I'm not. I've seen and heard. The conversation shifted then, as if the mention of hearing had reminded him of something urgent. If you're ever out here alone and everything goes silent all of a sudden, hit the ground, stay down until the sounds come back. His tone was so grave, so earnest, that a chill ran down my spine. And if they don't come back? Mark looked at me, his eyes dark pools

of warning. Then God help you. We ate dinner mostly in silence. The stew was rich in filling, but my thoughts were elsewhere, digesting not just the meal but also the enormity of what lay hidden, both in the woods and within Mark himself. Later, as I prepared to leave, the air between us was thick with unasked questions and unspoken fears. At the door, Mark placed a hand on my shoulder. Be careful, Zach. Not everything out here is as it seems.

I nodded, stepping out into the twilight, the echo of his warning, mingling with the whispering pines. As I drove away, the cabin disappearing behind me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was leaving more behind than just a friend. I was leaving a mystery that was perhaps better left unsolved. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars. Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava theater stage on April 30th,

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It was a long, solitary journey across state lines, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. I had been dreading this trip for weeks, as Uncle Pete had been fighting a losing battle for some time. But as I hit the open road, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. The funeral had been a difficult ordeal, and I was just glad to be leaving it all behind. The drive itself was relatively painless, though it took a long time. I had to cut across several state lines and numerous counties for a total of a ten-hour trip. Not the worst thing in the world, but for an older guy like me, I found none of it appealing. Texas, New Mexico, and many other southwestern states are mostly flat and ugly, with nothing really to look at,

and huge stretches of straight highway that seemed to go on forever. I will say, though, I was in better spirits than normal because it was the return trip, and those always feel shorter for some reason. As I drove, the landscape outside my window changed from a bustling city to rolling hills, and finally to the vast expanse of the Texas desert. I had been driving for hours, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, and I was making good time. I expected to be home a little before midnight.

I settled in, cracked open a soda, and prepared for the most boring finish to a drive I could ever imagine. As I approached the border, I noticed a sign for a newly built rest stop. Having been driving for hours, I could use a break. I pulled off the highway and into the parking lot, expecting to find a clean and welcoming facility. But as I stepped out of my car, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was just off. It was sundown at this point, and the glow was rapidly fading, leaving me in heavy twilight. The external lights of the facility kicked on and showed you to the light.

on and showed me the different routes to the bathroom. The rest stop itself was completely deserted except for a few cars parked sporadically around the lot. The building was modern and sleek, but it seemed to loom over me, casting an unending shadow in the fading light. I tried to shake off the foreboding feeling, telling myself I was just tired from the long drive. But as I approached the entrance, I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat. A group of men were lounging against the wall, eyeing me with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. They weren't dressed in costumes or representing a specific color, but it was obvious that they were gang-related, tattooed, shaved heads, a mix of Latino and white, with bandanas draped around

their necks or hanging out of their pockets. This was definitely the root of the dreadful sensation I had upon arriving. I nodded a brief hello that was not returned. I tried to avoid eye contact after that, but I could feel their gaze following me as I walked toward the entrance. I quickened my pace, my heart racing with anticipation. I'd heard horror stories from different folks over the years about border encounters that could be fatal, but the gangs and cartels were all over the towns and cities, not just confined to the area I was in. I made it my mission to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. I pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside the bathroom. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered like fireflies in the darkness.

The air inside was stale and heavy, thick with the scent of disinfectant and something else, something sweet and acidic. I wrinkled my nose trying to place the smell, but it lingered just out of reach. Honestly, it was probably vape exhalation. I just hadn't placed it yet. Vaping was still kind of new when this happened to me. As I made my way to the urinal, I looked around and found I was alone, thank God. Not that I have a shy bladder or anything, but if there had been anyone waiting for me in the restroom, my only option would be to run. I figured the crowd outside was waiting to snatch me up. No one in the bathroom meant there wasn't any kind of plan in place. I remember I saw an average Joe out in the parking lot, and just hoped to God their presence would keep the peace.

I stood there for only 30 seconds, but it felt much longer. The whole time I was just waiting to hear gunfire sparked to life beyond that brick wall and that metal door. I imagined the gang shooting up the whole property, every building, every car, before peeling onto the highway and just disappearing forever. What I heard wasn't gunfire, though, it was even scarier. The door behind me banged open, and I could hear a couple of people speaking in Spanish. I didn't even bother to turn around. If they were those gang members and wanted my attention, they would get it. Still, I could see them in the reflection of the mirror. They were dressed in black, their faces obscured by bandanas and sunglasses. They seemed to be sizing me up like a piece of meat.

They leaned on the wall and just stared holes into my back. What's up, old man? One of them asked me. I didn't respond, just did my best to ignore them. Hey, Poppy, don't make that mistake again. I asked you a question, the guy repeated. just stopping to use the bathroom on my way back from my uncle's funeral, I explained, hoping to score some pity points for why I was out there in the first place. Oh, a funeral. We had no idea, he said back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. At this point I knew I was in trouble. I zipped up and checked my pockets but no dice, nothing about my car keys, which I guess was a small victory in itself. Still, I wasn't even sure I'd locked my car. In that moment,

We're going to mess you up, Tio, that same kid said. His friend spoke to him quickly in Spanish, and they both had a quick laugh. My stomach turned to mush. The first open thread I received in a long time, and boy, was I sure these kids were going to be good for it. I was kicking myself over and over saying, What the hell? Why would you even stop here? In a place you know is dangerous?

I felt like I had created this entire situation myself, and honestly I was right. look at me one of them sneered i did as i was told in that moment i saw my only option on the backside of the bathroom door was a deadbolt a big heavy one i looked over the door at a glance and it seemed like thick heavy metal locking the door was going to be my only ticket if this didn't clear up immediately i shook my head just trying to play it cool just stop for a break guys I replied, my voice steady despite the fear creeping up in my throat. I have no idea why I repeated my earlier statement, probably just a result of the panic pulsing underneath my skin. They said some more stuff to me, but I don't remember any of it. The blood pumping in my ears was way too loud.

The men nodded, their faces expressionless, then turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me feeling uneasy and unsure. I waited for a moment, hoping someone else would come in, but the bathroom just remained empty. The only sound was the hum of the vending machines, and the distant rumble of cars on the highway. In this moment, I completely forgot about my plan with the lock. I just wanted to get in my car and leave. The fact that they weren't kicking me seemed like a good sign, right? I washed my hands, and believe it or not, washed my face, did everything I could to just shake off my nerves. Finally, I emerged from the bathroom, my heart racing with anticipation. As I stepped out into the evening air, I was met with a sight that

made my blood run cold. The parking lot was empty except for my car, which was now surrounded by that same group of men, their faces twisted with cruel grins as they rummage through my belongings. Hey, what's going on here? I demanded, trying to keep my voice firm despite the fear creeping up in my throat. Looking back, I have no idea what I was thinking, just kind of rolled up on autopilot. pilot throughout that chaos. I'm not a tough guy, pretty non-confrontational, but I'll be damned if I was going to stand idle and be robbed without at least saying something. I said it loud, hoping I could get the attention of some of the other folks that I saw around earlier. Somehow, in just the 60 seconds I was in the bathroom, that entire parking lot

had cleared out, end to end. Not a soul stirred in my direction, none except the gangbangers prying through my stuff. The men then turned to face me, their eyes lit up like it was Christmas day. Just having a look around, Amigo, one of them sneered, holding up my wallet. I kept it in the center console on long drives, as it's a thick old leather thing and starts to upset my back if I sit on it for too long. I felt the surge of panic as I realized the extent of their thievery. Give that back, I shouted, trying to sound braver than I actually felt. Sweat started to bead and run down my brow, cheeks, and chest, despite the cool evening air. The men just laughed, their voice echoing off the walls as they continued to rummage through my

car. I knew I had to act fast, but my mind was blank, unable to come up with a plan as the men closed in around me. All right, I'm calling the police, I shouted. This time, I got their full attention. They immediately fanned out, started closing in on me. Apparently my threat was enough. to turn their full attention on me now, at least until they could check me for a cell phone, or just beat me into the ground. I raised my hands in front of me and started to backpedal as the last form of defense. Too late for that, man, you know what's going to happen now. I turned and ran at a full sprint. For an old fart like me, I was hustling pretty good. I think

I even surprised the gangsters because they all froze up for a second before they started chasing me, immediately giving me enough time to get ahead of them. I retreated into the bathroom, locking the door behind me as the gang members continued to chase me. They pounded on the door, demanding I open up, or they started smashing it with big rocks that they found outside. The door didn't bend inward or anything, but it buckled with a constant barrage of pressure. Soon, the stones started flying through the upper windows and skylights, glass shattering all around me. I'm still partially convinced they were discharging firearms, but the place was so loud and I was in such a panic,

I couldn't really say for sure. Fortunately, the building was all brick and cinder blocks, concrete in between, so I was actually kind of safe in there, as long as they didn't get that door open. I moved into the back stall and just hunkered down in the cleanest place available, just in case any stray rounds ricocheted in. Eventually, they must have gotten bored and moved off from the building.

but I could still hear their voices at a distance, could hear them laughing and shouting, the sound of glass-shattering and metal-crunching as they tore through my belongings. I felt a sense of hopelessness just wash over me, trapped and helpless. I listened to my car being destroyed. My threat to call the police was a bold lie.

My phone, my whole life was inside that car, so I was doomed to wait it out for as long as I had to. Some of them came back to the bathroom door, banging on it with their fists and hollering insults and threats again. You think you can hide from us? Another one of them sneered. Come see your new car, another one hollered, then another string of insults. Come on, Tio, you can't take a crap all night.

If you open up the door, we won't pop the tires. I cowered in the corner, my heart racing with fear as the banging and shouting continued. It seemed like an eternity before they finally gave up and just took off, leaving me shaken and alone. This time, though, there weren't any distant voices. It actually sounded like they loaded up and left. I could even hear a vehicle drifting out of the parking lot. I still had my keys in my pocket, so it couldn't have been mine.

Someone must have come to pick them up, or they had a car hidden somewhere. Either way, I was very glad to experience silence beyond those block walls. I waited for what felt like an hour, listening intently for any sign of their return. The parking lot was silent, the only sound the distant hum of cars on the highway outside. I took inventory of the bathroom, the shattered glass all over the floor, the rocks resting among the carnage. It was a crazy amount of damage, so I figured my car could be way worse. Finally, I worked up the courage to open up the door and survey the damage. It was dark, but the rest stop was lit up with blinding light poles, or at least a few of them.

Some were dark, with broken glass pooled at the base. Those guys had managed to break some of the lights. There was graffiti, too, all over the rest stop building and signs around the area. I took very quiet steps as I navigated my way back to my vehicle. My car was a complete wreck. The windshield was smashed, and half of my belongings were gone. One of the tires was flat, and the body was dented and scratched. They even hit my interior with canvas.

of spray paint, writing messages for me all over the seats and dashboard. Most of it was in Spanish, so I couldn't even read it. I just stood there, looked over the wreckage for a long time, unsure of what to do. I didn't want to leave before making a report of some kind, but I didn't have a way to do that. I felt a wave of despair wash over me as I realized the extent of the destruction. The thing probably wouldn't even start, and that was if I could even get the key in the ignition. As I stood there, trying to process everything that had happened, other cars began to pull into the parking lot. The drivers got out, eyeing my car with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. I felt a sense of shame and embarrassment, knowing I had been so helpless to stop those gang members.

But they were also eyeballing the destroyed rest stop building behind me. They probably assumed that I was the culprit, being the only person here. I mean, I looked out of my mind. I'm sure I did. One of those bystanders, a kindly looking older man, approached me and offered me his phone to call the police. I took it gratefully, then explained everything that had happened to the dispatcher on the other end. But as I waited for the police to arrive, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled over me. The old man listened as I explained everything and just nodded along. He had an old revolver in a leather holster on his hip, probably just a 22 or a 38, but still, what I would have given

to have that old man there with me just an hour or two earlier. When the police finally showed up, they took a statement and looked over my car, but I could tell they weren't taking it seriously. Just a case of vandalism, sir, one of them said shrugging. We'll file a report, but I wouldn't hold out much hope of catching those perpetrators. I felt a surge of anger and frustration. knowing I'd been let down by the very people who were supposed to protect me. As I watched the police drive away from me,

I couldn't help but feel a sense of disillusionment with humanity. If this was how people treated each other, then what was the point of even trying? The other drivers in the parking lot continued to eye me with suspicion, but still, I couldn't shake that horrible sensation that had settled over me. The world is a dark and violent place, and I was just a small, helpless part of it all. and just as I suspected, it wouldn't even turn over.

I had to ask that same old man if he knew of a towing service nearby, which he did. This guy turned out to be somewhat of a local. He lived in the next town over. He called a friend of his who sent a wrecker out to haul me in the car back to town. $9,000 worth of repairs later, I was able to drive the car out of the shop. Thankfully my insurance paid for most of it, but those punk gangsters were never brought to justice. and for obvious reasons, I travel much differently nowadays. This episode is brought to you by Netflix's remarkably bright creatures.

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The only parts designed, engineered, tested, and backed by General Motors. You can find your perfect fit for most makes and models and choose from three tiers of parts, including GMOE or gold and silver aftermarket parts. Visit gmparts.com for more information. As we drove away from the familiar landscape of home, Beth and I felt a sense of excitement and adventure walking. right over us. We were headed to Vermont to visit my grandmother, and that long drive ahead of us seemed like a thrilling journey into the unknown. But as the hours passed and the miles flew by,

our enthusiasm began to wane. The GPS had led us off the highway onto a series of winding back roads. We found ourselves lost in a sea of identical trees and twisting turns. We hadn't even crossed into Vermont yet, and already we were running into trouble. I'd put a little too much faith into that GPS navigator. I didn't question it when it told us to veer off that country back road and into the middle of nowhere. The madness really came to light when the navigator failed to lead us back out into anything familiar. It just kept looping over and over again throughout that same area. It was almost like something out of a nightmare, but this was just part of the adventure, and Beth and I were just happy to be together for it. At first, we tried to just laugh it off,

joking about our navigation skills and the quirks of a rural roadway. But as the sun began to set and the shadows deepened, our worry started to boil over into panic. We'd been driving for hours. Our gas tank was running perilously low, and the roads seemed to stretch on forever and ever, curving and twisting in every direction with no sign of civilization in sight. Being lost was honestly no trouble to me.

It was the low gas tank that had me sick with anxiety. We hadn't seen a house, a farm, or a building of any kind. There definitely wasn't a gas station out here, and we'd been up and down literally every stretch of the road that county had to offer. We even tried to use landmarks like hillcrest and tall trees to guide us, but nothing was really working. We could have had a map and a compass, but again, I really don't think that would have helped us. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my mind racing as I tried to figure out our predicament.

We'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, but where? And how could we possibly find our way back to the highway? The darkness seemed to press in around us, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. I could feel Beth's anxiety radiating from the passenger seat. Her eyes fixed on the GPS screen as if willing it to produce a solution. As the minutes ticked by, our panic grew and grew. We were truly alone out here, with no phone signal and no hope of rescue. The road seemed to shift and twist like a living entity determined to keep us lost.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest when the gaslight ticked on, telling me we were down to our last gallon, something like 18 miles of drifting. The car itself literally jittered when the light came on. Oh my God, Beth whispered. It's okay, I promise. This could be way, way worse, I said. Well, say that. What the hell is wrong with you?

she shot back. I nodded and said, Sorry, I'm just trying to be positive. I promise, though, everything is okay. What are we going to do? She prodded. Well, I don't know. First we're going to relax and just think, I explained.

Finally, with a sense of resignation, I pulled over to the side of the road. We held hands and just took very deep, shuddering breaths as we watched the woodland around us. Some rabbits scampered by, an owl seemed to chase them. then a fox went darting in the other direction. In the moment, it was kind of fun and gave us something to admire,

something to take our minds off the situation at hand. We continued talking for a bit, then started to reason through our predicament. It was easy. There were very few options. We would have to sleep in the car until sunrise, hoping the light of day would reveal a way out of this labyrinth nightmare. It was the only thing that made sense considering how low on fuel we were. We couldn't really afford to waste it driving back and forth in the dark. I put the seats down in the back, made us this little place to cuddle, nestled among our belongings like some duffel bags and coats.

We even had some dry food to snack on that really perked up our mood as we settled in for the night. Darkness continued closing in around us like a shroud. I couldn't shake that feeling that we were being watched by something. The trees seemed to loom over, their branches creaking ominously in the wind. remembered those animals earlier, realized that, yeah, we were being watched. The animals around here probably hadn't seen a car just stop and spend the night on the road like that ever before. The animals also offered this sense of security, in the sense that if there were animals around here, things had to be pretty normal, right? If there were rabbits and foxes, there likely

weren't any big predators. Still, we were in the middle of nowhere. Neither of us was accustomed to that. We were sleeping in a car which gave us no sense of privacy or security, and on top of it all, we didn't know where we were going and how to get out. In the morning, we were completely at the mercy of the unknown, and that was a terrifying place to be. We huddled together in the darkness, trying to get some sleep, but unable to shake that feeling of being watched. Still, silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the occasional hoot of an owl,

or the distant rumble of an airplane overhead. But then, without warning, the silence was shattered by a series of footsteps circling the car. Beth clutched my arm, her eyes wide with fear. What was that? she whispered. I don't know, I replied, my voice barely audible. But we need to stay calm, whatever it was. It carried on down the road, stopped, and then came back to the vehicle. My eyebrows came together in confusion.

It sounded like a person, just 20 feet, dusting up the dirt road. But as they got closer, I was sure of it. I remained frozen next to Beth, my head down in the darkness, the windows looming over us like great wicked magnifying glasses. The thing, the person, whatever it was, stopped maybe 15 feet away from us, then again walked further down the road for a second time so we couldn't hear it anymore. What the heck was all that? Beth managed to get out. Right then, a howl echoed throughout the darkness. It was a sound unlike anything I'd ever heard before, a primal scream that seemed to come from the

very depths of the forest. No way it was a person. Too deep and throaty, too wild-sounding, I said. We tensed up, but also relaxed. We were relieved. It was just a coyote milling around and not some kind of murderer. Oh my God, Beth whispered, her voice trembling. That is terrifying. I know, I agreed. My mind's still racing. Should we just go? Just as I said those words, we could hear those footsteps again, except this time, they were running toward the car, and I mean a full-on sprint. Then, a heavy sounding thump sounded on the roof of the car, making us both jump out of our skin. It was as if someone were banging on the car with their fist. The blows come. coming in rapid succession.

Who's there? I shouted, trying to sound brave but feeling anything but that. I was on the verge of hyperventilating, but having Beth there kept me grounded and focused. I couldn't let anyone in the car or hurt her at any cost. Who's out there? I hollered out again. The thumping then stopped for a moment. It was just silence, except I could hear this weird breathing, hot and heavy, and I could see it was now fogging up the glass. It must have been from the running and beating up on the car. Next, we heard the sound of someone running away into the darkness.

Those footsteps just fading into the distance. Beth and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear. Okay, we need to get out of here, I said, my voice firm this time. We've got to risk the gas tank, she agreed, no questions asked. Beth immediately started folding up all the bedding and organizing it as quickly as she could. I climbed into the driver's seat and undid the gear. I fired up the engine and just waited for Beth. After a minute, she climbed up next to me and put her seatbelt on. Without another word, we started the car and pulled away from the side of the road, driving as fast as we could without headlights.

We didn't see anything as we drove, but we didn't need to. We knew whatever had been messing with us was still out there. watching and waiting. The moon had lit up the area. We were already sporting pretty heavy solid night vision as we've been looking through the windows without light for a couple of hours at that point. After a few miles, we pulled over again, this time in a small clearing surrounded by trees. We tried to sleep, but our minds were racing with the thoughts of what had just happened. We knew we couldn't stay here for very long, but for now it was the best that we could do. As we lay there in the darkness, I couldn't shake that feeling again, that feeling of being watched, that unblinking eyes were trained on us from somewhere up in the shadows. Again, I knew we had to keep moving.

I had to keep driving until we found our way back to some semblance of civilization. But for now, we were trapped, alone, and vulnerable in the darkness of that forest. I figured driving four miles away without any headlights on was a pretty safe bet. It would be hard to follow on foot, as it were, but in the dark no less, it might be impossible. Getting off the main road had given us a little confidence boost as well. As we nestled in the car in that tree thicket, there was a road in each direction that we could use for an exit. We huddled up in the back and got the worst sleep imaginable, but ultimately nothing else weird happened the rest of that night. As we woke up the following morning, the sunlight streaming through the windshield

revealed a sight that made our blood run cold. Greasy handprints smeared the glass, a taunting reminder that someone had indeed been messing with us throughout the night. Oh my God, they were right there, Beth said, her voice still shaking. It's super weird to see. I couldn't tell if it was from when we parked on the road or if this weirdo had indeed found us out there behind the trees, I replied. I got out with a water bottle and a rag from the trunk,

did my best to just try to clean it off, but I can't express to you how grimy and greasy this person's hands had to be. It's absolutely disgusting. I could see every impression and imprint from their palm. I started the car, the engine sputtering a bit as we crept down that dirt road. The fuel light had been on for hours, and I knew we were running on fumes. Maybe 12 miles left to go, but we had to keep moving. As we drove, the landscape began to look familiar.

We could see the main road sneaking its way through the hill. A sign ahead beckoned promising a town just nine miles away. The gas station symbol seemed like a lifeline. No way, Beth said. How the heck did we miss this? I have no idea. I don't even think we passed through here, I said. I don't remember going through that clearing before. It's okay. We're going to make it. She cheered. But as we passed the sign, a figure appeared on the shoulder of the road.

A young man, dirty and unkempt, with a wild look in his eyes. eyes. He made this weird face as we passed, his lips curling up with a snarl. And then he started to chase us, no holds barred, sprinting down the road. He looked absolutely crazy, and I mean literally. I don't even think he had shoes on, but he was easily clearing up to 15 miles per hour. Oh my God, he's following us, Beth screamed. I hit the gas and the car sprung forward as we sped away from that weirdo, but the low gas tank had us sputtering to accelerate. We didn't dare look back, our eyes fixed on the road ahead as we devoured the miles. Finally, we crested a hill, and a town came into view. We saw the gas station, a haven of normalcy inside the surreal nightmare.

As we pulled into the station, we both let out a sigh of relief. We'd made it, we were safe. But as we filled up the tank and grabbed some coffee, we couldn't shake that feeling that we just experienced something truly sinister. That guy back there, Beth said, her voice still shaking. He had to be the one that messed with us last night, right? I nodded, my mind reeling with the implications. He must have been watching us,

waiting for us to leave. But why? Beth asked, her eyes wild with disbelief. Why would someone do that to us? Does he live out there? I shook my head, feeling a sense of dread wash over. me. I don't know, but I know one thing for sure. We're never driving through those woods again.

We both laughed, got back into the car, and reoriented the GPS. I got a map just to be sure this time. Even then, we only drove a couple of hours that day before we got a motel in some quaint little town, so we could actually get some real sleep. I decided my grandma could wait a couple of hours longer, especially after that night we just had.