Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 5 Scary Cryptid Encounter Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 15, 2024

These are 5 Scary Cryptid Encounter Horror Stories Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Itseesyou/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/DrBlackJack21/ ���Sent in to www.justcreepy.net Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:09:58 Story 2 00:25:33 Story 3 00:40:28 Story 4 00:55:47 Story 5 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #deepwoods #cryptids #wendigo 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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, the powerful vocals of Demi Lovato on May 17th, and the signature Southern Country Rock of Eric Church on July 19th. Tickets on sale now at Yamavat Theater.com, only at Yamava Resort and Casino, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You in? Must be 21 to enter. This is a Bose moment.

You've been there before. Somebody's apartment, small talk that's going nowhere, plastic cup that's almost empty. It's not great. Then someone hits play on a Bose speaker. Heads nod, feet tap, one person dances than everyone does. Awkward becomes electric. When Bose sound fills the room, you don't just hear the music. You feel it.

Your life deserves music. Your music deserves Bose. Find your perfect product at Bose.com. Kayak gets my flight, hotel, and rental car right. So I can tune out travel advice that's just plain wrong. Bro, Skycoin, way better than points. Never fly during a Scorpio full moon. Just tell the manager you'll sue.

Instant room upgrade. Stop taking bad travel advice. Start comparing hundreds of sites with kayak and get your trip right. Bad advice. You talking to me? Kayak, got that right. I'm posting this in hopes that someone out there may be able to help me. I've started writing and deleting this so many times over the last six months or so that it would make your head spin.

At first, I thought that no one would believe me, so why bother? Then it became a matter of not wanting to relive those events again. Now, it's all I can think about, and I just want it to stop. Let me explain. This past June, my wife Michelle and I took our two teenage girls camping. I'd made our reservations online at a campsite. we'd never stayed at before, a quaint little place called Lost Creek Campgrounds. It was a little farther away than we usually went, but the reviews were amazing, and the pictures were absolutely

breathtaking. I just couldn't pass it up. We used their online map and found an isolated spot that looked perfect for us. When we got there, we set the canopy up over the included picnic table, and were putting up the tent when I heard what I thought was a family out hiking. They seemed to enjoy themselves, so I paid little attention until it seemed like they might be lost, calling out to one another for help. I alerted Michelle and was heading to the nearest trailhead to lend a hand when the voices stopped. I chalked it up to a misunderstanding and helped her finish setting up the tent. I was exhausted from the drive and getting camp set up. The kids were complaining about all the bugs and lack of cell phone service. Michelle's energy kept us all going as she

hummed some early 90s tune stuck in her head while getting the campfire going. I started thinking about that family in the woods again, but since I hadn't heard anything in a little while, I could only assume everything turned out okay. It was getting dark, so we roasted some hot dogs, made some smores, and took turns trying to tell the scariest story before turning in. The girls regaled us with some things they'd read on the No Sleep subreddit about a search and rescue officer. I went with some classic campfire stories like the babysitter and the clown statue and the man with the hook. Michelle was the clear winner with some story I'd never heard her tell before about the time

she and her siblings encountered what they thought was a Wendigo while camping in San Antonio. In the morning, we spent some time relaxing at the beach and just enjoying our surroundings. It was a beautiful day, and I couldn't help but think it odd that we were the only ones in the water. There wasn't even a single boat out past the buoys to disturb the still and tranquil lake. It was nice to have the place to ourselves, though. I went swimming with the girls, and teased them about all the things they couldn't see in

the murky lake water while Michelle laughed from the shore and worked on her tan. We had a few sandwiches for lunch and didn't head back to camp until the early evening. As night fell, I talked them all into doing some night hiking. It was a family tradition that I insisted we keep up on every trip. We wandered around the circuitous trails near our campsite. The woods were an entirely different place at night. There could be something new and exciting around every twist and turn of the trail. Having only the beam of your flashlight to illuminate things added that little taste of

adrenaline that kept us going for a few hours. Heading around the last circuit back to camp, I began hearing familiar voices asking for help. This time Michelle and the girls heard them as well. We headed toward the voices to offer some assistance, but the closer we got to where we thought they were, the further into the maples, hemlocks, and white ash trees the voices could be heard. After ten minutes I led us back to camp. I didn't make a big deal about it, but I sensed something was wrong.

I could feel it in my bone somehow. I put on a fake smile and teased the girls about our experience to calm them down. We all decided that it was probably just some bobcats. You couldn't go camping anywhere in Ohio without hearing them at some point or another. Sometimes they could sound like a screaming woman, or even a crying child. They went to bed content with that information, and fell fast asleep in their sleeping bags. Michelle and I curled up by the campfire to enjoy the rare silence together. The older the girls got, the harder it was to come by.

An hour later, we heard our youngest daughter calling for us from the woods. That wasn't possible. She was still curled up asleep in her sleeping bag. We could see her. Before we could react, we heard our other daughter's voice coming from the other side of the woods. She was also fast asleep in the sleeping bag next to her sister. We rushed into the tent and locked it down. It was an all-season tent. It was thick and durable with locking zippers. We battened down the hatches and held on to each other while I kept an eye out through the little window. I must have done. dozed off because the sound of a zipper woke me up. I had locked them from the inside, so I assumed one of the girls had gone to the bathroom. Still, I moved to the entry, fearing the worst.

When I saw everyone in their sleeping bags, my blood went cold. The zipper inched upwards. I grabbed it and held it tight. I saw an impossibly long finger through the screen. I told who or whatever it was to go the hell away. I took a deep breath as I heard quiet footsteps moving away from the tent. The lock was broken at my feet. Before I could process anything, I heard movement. This time it came from multiple directions. I considered waking everyone. On one hand, I needed help. On the other, a screaming wife and kids seemed like a bad idea. I let them sleep, for better or worse. I felt surrounded, and I smelled something odd, copper and nag shampa. I could make out enormous shapes through the tent fabric. The voices rang out as more of them

moved in close enough to brush against the tent. I bit my lip till it bled, closing my eyes to steady my nerves. I heard the voices of the family from the first day, the voices of my still sleeping daughters and wife. I nearly lost my hard-earned composure when I heard my voice whispering near where I crouched. I realized what I had missed in the voices all along. While they sounded like copies of human voices, there was something distinctly off about them. Like mimicking instead of speaking, they were piecing words together to form conversations without matching tones or tempos. I focused so much on how they sounded, that I wasn't listening to what they were saying until it became one cacophonic burst of repetition. Hungry, as the first few jagged claws tore long streaks all around the tent,

a bright light filled the camp from an unknown source. Through a rip in the entrance door, I could see one of them. It must have been seven feet tall and was impossibly thin. Its mottled gray skin stretched so tight over its bones that I could see its organs pulse beneath. It glared at me with empty eye so deep that no light could escape them. It lunged at me, ripping the rest of the fabric to shreds as I finally screamed to wake up Michelle and the girls. I knew at that moment that I was dead.

There was nowhere to run, and soon we would all be devoured. I shut my eyes as it tore into my chest. An explosion of sound followed by warm liquid raining down on me assaulted my senses, but somehow I was alive. By the time I opened my eyes, I'd heard a dozen more small explosions in quick succession. mixed with the confused screams of my family as they were harshly awakened. Men approached the wreckage of our tent, shotguns in hand. They usured us to their trucks and drove us into the nearby town.

I had so many questions, but the men stayed quiet till they got us to safety. They called them forest mimics. Something had been stirring them up over the last few weeks, and more people had gone missing than usual. They'd shut down the campgrounds until they could sort it out. Our online reservation had somehow gone unnoticed, and by the time they stumbled upon our camp, it had nearly been too late. We never went back for our gear. As a family, we stick to resorts and indoor lodgings these days. Michelle and the girls were lucky. They didn't see what I saw. To them, the story has become,

that time a pack of wild animals attacked our tent. For me, it's something different entirely. I've developed PTSD and severe insomnia since it all happened. Not even the medication I've been prescribed is helping. Some nights I swear I can still hear those voices chanting that word, hungry, in the dark recesses of our home. A month ago the dreams began, and that's why I'm finally posting this now. In those dreams, I can hear more than just that single word. They call out to me in their staggered amalgam of voices,

their legion-like staccato, shrieking and begging me to come home. On those nights, I wake up crying. I don't cry out of fear or some sense of personal preservation, no. I cry because the longing in their voices is palpable. I cry because of the pain that flares up in the scar that they left on my chest. I cry because I'm hungry. This episode is brought to you by Netflix's remarkably bright creatures. What if a Pacific octopus held the key to a mystery that could heal your heart?

Well, that's Tova's reality. An elderly widow working at an aquarium. Tova forms an unlikely friendship with their cramudgeonly, Marcellus, whose remarkable intelligence leads her to a life-changing discovery. Watch remarkably bright creatures with your remarkable moms this Mother's Day weekend. Only on Netflix May 8th. This episode is brought to you by Perfect Bistro Cat Food. Cats, this ad is for you.

Has your human ever called you picky? Pursnickety, choosy? If so, perfect bistro cat food is for you, with ingredients like wild-caught tuna and pasture-raised lamb, tantalizing textures, and delectable flavors that meet even the most discerning cat standards. You're not picky. You're just perfectionists. Perfect Bistro. Mealtime perfection for every cat. Have your human visit perfectbeestro.com. I just want to start by saying that dating is hard. Once you get past all the bots, ads, and scammers and meet a real person, The guessing game begins. Why is this person actually available right now? Are they really just down on their luck? Or is it something else that you're happier not knowing? Then, once you figure out their deep dark secrets, the question becomes, are they willing

to put up with your deep dark secrets? This process can take weeks to sort out, usually resulting in a dead end somewhere, forcing you to start over. The whole thing is frustrating, demeaning, and humiliating enough that you're physically and emotionally exhausted, making you just want to give up and be a loner. Now I know what you're wondering. What's this got to do with anything? Well, it's kind of simple.

A little bit ago, I wrote about how my girlfriend, Wendy, never eats, and that I heard some unsettling things at her house the last time I visited. Well, I decided to keep seeing Wendy. Sure, she might have some unusual habits, but she makes me feel good about myself, and I'm happy with her. So what if she never eats or chases off bears while nude in the middle of the night? Compared to returning to the dating scene, that's really not so bad. We even have nicknames for each other now, country girl and city boy.

I'll let you guess which is which. Anyway, that's a rather long and roundabout way of saying that, yeah, I went on that camping trip with her, and things didn't go quite how I expect. First off, I want to say that she was right. The forest really is beautiful. The sun's heat, combined with the coolness of the shade, while listening to the insects drawn lazily in the background, seems to slow time to a crawl, making each breath a relaxing experience in and of itself. It's entirely unlike anything you'll experience during your morning commute. Combine all

that with the right company, and soon you'll wonder why you'd ever return. And let me tell you, Wendy is 100% the right company. Wendy was quick with tips to make the hike easier, from how to properly distribute your packload to how to lace your shoes for maximum comfort. During the trek to where we were going to set up camp, she alternated between offering interesting bits of information about the local flora and fauna,

and walking in silence, allowing me to get lost in the experience. The whole affair made me want to give up the city life and move to the country. There was just one thing during the walk that wasn't as pleasant as everything else. At one point, we must have walked too close to a skunk or a rotting carcass or something because the whole area around us started to reek. At first it wasn't so bad, but eventually it got so strong it made me want to gag.

I jokingly mentioned it to Wendy, but she just looked ahead like she was determined and told me, pick up the pace, we'll be past it soon enough. Sure enough, we eventually got past the smell, and things quickly became pleasant again. The rest of the hike passed without incident, and Wendy even helped me set up the tent. Her evident experience in the matter showed through because it took no time. Soon enough, everything was ready, and we even had a nice, cheerful fire roaring. This time, when she pulled out the supplies for dinner, I didn't even bat an eye when it was clearly only enough for one, whatever was going on with her, this was just the way it was going to be.

It was up to me to accept that or move on, and I'd made my call. But I have to say, for someone who never seems to eat, she sure knows how to sear a steak to perfection. After a pleasant evening and an even more pleasant night, we passed out in the tent together, while listening to the crickets and the more distant owls. But of course, if that's all that happened, I wouldn't be writing about it here. Some time during the night, I awoke to find I was alone in the tent. This wasn't too unexpected, because Wendy was both an outdoor enthusiast and a bit of a night owl. I debated calling out to her, but something in the air felt like I shouldn't disturb it with such an out-of-place sound.

However, Mother Nature did have her demands, and it was time to answer her call. As I unzipped the tent and stepped out, I couldn't help but look up into the night's sky. the stars were breathtaking. You never see this many this vibrant in the city. However, their beauty couldn't distract me for long in the face of more, urgent demands. Do you know that feeling when you've been holding it in a little too long and finally experience relief? Maybe it distracted me from the fact that all the usual night sounds had suddenly gone quiet,

but it couldn't distract me from the sudden smell of rotting flesh. It was even stronger than it had been on the trail. and was accompanied by the kind of fear that you usually feel when you're very young, and just starting to wonder if there might be reasons sounds go bump in the night. I gagged as I struggled to cut off the stream, zip up my pants, and retreat into the tent again. Once in the tent, I reached for the flashlight, then hesitated. I desperately wanted to see better, but something in the back of my mind told me it was better to remain hidden. Of course, I don't know how well hidden a blue tent in the same.

the middle of the forest can be, but turning on a flashlight would be like activating a beacon for everything within a few miles to see. I sat in the dark for I don't know how long, feeling my heart pounded through my chest, loud enough that I was sure whatever was out there could hear it clearly. Thankfully, the smell eventually faded, but I was still so high on adrenaline that I knew I wouldn't sleep another wink for the rest of the night. Or so I thought. The following day, I awoke with Wendy cuddled in my arm, with one of her legs and arms draped over me, and once again, she was totally nude. Now I was pretty sure she'd put on some pajamas before going to bed, but as she stirred and I got a good look at what was on display, I suddenly didn't care all that

much. Eventually she smiled lazily up at me and spoke. You sleep all right, city boy? You seem to have some pretty rough dreams in the middle of the night. At the time, those words made perfect sense, In the light of day, it seemed pretty clear that whatever happened last night was probably just a vivid dream brought on by the experiences of the day before and an unfamiliar environment. After a bit more time together, we decided to get up and tackle another day in the forest. However, when I finally crawled out of the tent, I could see our entire camp was in disarray. It was like something had gone through and tossed everything around. A few of the more delicate items were totally demolished. After a moment I called out,

Um, hey, you might want to take a look at this. As Wendy crawled out of the tent, she made a face. Must have been a bear. They usually don't come out this way, so I wasn't too worried about them. I guess that's on me, sorry. A bear. That kind of made sense. At least, I told myself so.

As we were cleaning up, I even saw tracks. Though in my inexperience as a city boy, I would have said they belonged to a dog, not a bear. A huge dog. Maybe a wolf? What was even otter was when I found what looked like hoof prints. Looking at the prince, I realized that deer must be much bigger than they look on TV, since they were more than twice as long as my hand. There isn't much more to say about the day.

We fixed the place up, had breakfast, went on a hike, made dinner, and called it a night, with a few other minor activities sprinkled throughout. I was back to enjoying the trip, so much so that I had mostly forgotten about the night before. But that night, things took a bit of an unexpected turn. Once again, I awoke in the middle of the night. Thankfully, I wasn't alone this time, as Wendy was still asleep, half on top of me again. However, that stench was back and stronger than ever. It was amazing how bright it seemed in the tent.

It must have been a full moon, or at least nearly full, because I could clearly see the shadow of a large deer pass between us and the night sky. But there was something wrong with this deer. It was clearly too tall, as if it was standing on hind legs, and when it opened its mouth, I could even make out a mouthful of very sharp teeth. I couldn't help it. I felt myself breathing more heavily by the second as my heart-revelled. rate skyrocketed. My mind went blank when I suddenly felt Wendy Stur, remembering the presence of my

considerably smaller girlfriend. I suddenly felt protective, as if I couldn't let anything happen to her. I was just about to tell her to be quiet when I noticed her looking up at me with a finger on her lips, as if telling me to do the same. Then she whispered to me, stay in the tent, and started to get up. I don't know what I was thinking or if I was thinking. All I knew was. was I couldn't let Wendy go out to face whatever that was, so I reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could exit the tent. However, when she looked back at me, I released her immediately, almost as scared of her as whatever was outside the tent.

Her eyes reflected light back at me like a cat's, and I could see the nails on her hand growing as I watched. In half a moment she turned back around, opened the tent, and climbed outside. I will never forget the sound I heard at that moment. After I got home, I looked up the calls of a bunch of wild animals, and in hindsight, I'd say it was like a compilation of an elk call, a rabbit scream, and a mountain lion scream, but impossibly loud. Wendy shouted in answer, her tiny human voice sounding so frail in comparison.

At least it did until it started to change, morphing and twisting into the howl of an impossibly large wolf. I couldn't help it. I peeked out the tent flap, and standing in front of the tent was what I could only describe as a werewolf. The little five-foot-and-change Wendy was now standing at least seven feet tall, covered in fur with claws and fangs that looked like they could tear through steel, and she looked ready for murder. Then, some movement on the opposite end of our camp drew my attention,

and I witnessed a living nightmare that suddenly made a werewolf seem like less of a problem. It looked kind of like a deer if a deer had more articulated limbs far too long for its body. The feet ended in hooves, but the hands ended in long, bony claws. The whole thing looked desiccated, its skin drawn so tight over its ribs and arms, you could make out the skeleton beneath. The fur was spotty and looked partially rotted, with open holes leaking bodily fluids that should never see light. Its teeth were long and serrated,

clearly meant for tearing rather than chewing. I sometimes hear hunters talking about deer being eight or ten points, but if I had to estimate this thing had a thirty-point antler, with many of the tines covered in what I suspected to be dried viscera from previous victims. The two monsters charged each other. The nightmare, which I now know was a Wendigo, lowered its head, intending to impale its opponent. But at the last second, Wendy threw herself nearly

flat on the ground, only to rock it up into the Wendigo, latching onto its long neck with her powerful jaws while her hind feet kicked gouges into its vulnerable stomach. However, the Wendigo didn't seem willing to give up that easily, and tossed Wendy aside. She hit the ground hard, and was soon set upon by the other monster. She raised an arm to defend herself, only for the Wendigo to latch on with its own teeth, easily tearing through her skin and muscles. With a powerful kick, Wendy pushed the nightmare back, then started swiping at him over and over, making it loose ground. However, lowering its head, the Wendigo charged forward again, and this time, Wendy wasn't fast enough as the Wendigo caught her on his antlers and flipped her over his back,

with new blood darkening the tips of the tines. But that was its downfall, as Wendy sprung up, and again latched onto its neck with her teeth, this time from behind. The nightmare struggled in vain, occasionally raking Wendy with his claws, but she refused to let go, and began ripping and tearing her way through its neck until she grabbed hold of its antlers, and with one final jerk, the head came free. I don't have the heart to describe what came next, but let's just say the sound of flesh being torn and eaten is much more distinct through the thin membrane of a tent than a closed,

cabin window. Time passed. At least an hour, maybe two or three. It's hard to say for sure. I don't know what I expected to happen next. Maybe I was going to be next. Or perhaps I'd wake up from this nightmare. But eventually, the adrenaline passed. My eyes grew heavy, and I fell asleep again. When I awoke in the morning, I was alone this time. There was no sign Wendy had come back. I'd half hoped she'd still be here telling me I'd had another nightmare, but I don't think I would have believed it again. It was kind of sad and lonely packing up our things by myself. I debated bringing Wendy's stuff with me,

but I'm not that good of a hiker and wasn't confident I could pull it off, so I just left her things in her pack inside the tent. When I exited the tent, I was more than a little surprised to see Wendy sitting calmly by the fire pit with no wounds in sight. She smiled sadly. So, I guess I owe you an explanation. I remember hesitating, my mind blank, before I settled on the thought I had earlier. What?

You're not going to try and convince me it was a nightmare again? She looked around at all the destruction in the campsite. Earth was kicked up, trees had claw marks gouged out, and there were signs of blood splatter everywhere. I didn't think I could convince you this time. I nodded as I looked around. Yeah, I guess not. Then, I looked back at her. You know, for a bit there,

I was starting to think you were the monster-eating people out here. Wendy pointed at herself, then laughed. Wait, me? Wendy, the Wendigo? Don't you think that's a little too on the nose? I couldn't help it. As weird and messed up as everything was, as disturbing as everything I learned was,

this was the Wendy I knew and cared for. So I laughed with her. Yeah, maybe so. Long story short, we're still together. Sure, my girlfriend might be a seven foot tall monster that eats other monsters for fun, but everyone has their quirks. Besides, dating is hard, and I'm happy where I am. You said this place was steps from the water.

We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost. Or you could book a stay with Hilton. Welcome to your oceanfront room. Just steps from the water. The Hilton sale is on now.

Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton, for the stay. Some things work better together. Like Nars's soft matte complete concealer and radiant creamy concealer.

Soft mat complete concealer erases and blurs and perfections with full coverage. Then, radiant creamy concealer evens and brightens with a luxurious texture and radiant finish. Two concealers. One, flawless look. Perfect for a no foundation base. Nars. Better Together. Visit Sephora to shop now.

Who cares about your poops? Ollie does. That's why Ali's science-backed gut health lineup helps support your family's regularity. From daily probiotics to fiber gummies your kiddos will love. Find it all on ali.com. That's OLLLY.com. These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.

The first time I realized that the world wasn't as it seemed. I was just a kid. A sprout, really. With more courage than sense. That's how it is growing up in Greenville. A town so small it felt like a secret. tucked away in the cradle of the mountains, and bordered by an expanse of national forests so vast it seemed like another world. Douglas and I, we were inseparable back then.

Two halves of the same coin, always itching for the next adventure, the next mystery to unravel in the wilds that lay just beyond our backyards. We thought we knew every inch of those woods, every secret trail, and hidden glade. But the forest kept its deepest secrets hidden, revealing them only to those with the audacity to look. It was the summer of 1999, the kind of summer that sticks in your memory, bright and searing, filled with the endless possibilities that only childhood can believe in.

Our dads had taken us camping, a tradition, but for Douglas and me, it was just another chance to explore. Once the camp was set and our fathers settled into their routine of fishing and fireside stories, We seized our moment, slipping away into the thickening woods as the shadows grew long. We played at being explorers, charting unmarked territories, daring each other to venture further, to discover what lay beyond the next ridge or underneath the rotting log. It was a game until it wasn't. Dusk crept upon us like a thief, stealing the light in our sense of direction.

The familiar turned foreign, and the sounds of the forest once came. comforting, now carried a hint of menace. Dad, where are you? Our calls went unanswered, the forest swallowing the sound. The realization that we were lost, truly lost, settled in with the darkness. I'm scared, Douglas admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. I wanted to tell him I was too, but the words felt like a betrayal of the unspoken pact of bravery between us.

Then we heard it. the crunch of heavy footsteps, deliberate and fast, coming towards us. My heart hammered against my ribcage, a wild drumbeat signaling danger. Through the dim light, a shadow darted between the trees, too fast to be natural. It zigzagged, an impossible movement, drawing closer with every heartbeat. What the hell is that? Douglas's voice cracked with fear. I didn't have an answer. Panic took hold and we ran. the thud of our footsteps and the crashing of our pursuer blending into a terrifying symphony.

Glancing back I saw it, a blur of movement and a flash of amber eyes that seemed to pierce through the veil of the night. Miraculously, we broke free from the grip of the trees, stumbling onto a trail lit by the beams of flashlights. The search party, our dads at the forefront, had found us. Relief washed over me, only to be replaced by frustration as our tale of the shableness. creature was met with skepticism. Lying in my tent that night, the sounds of the forest all around, I understood for the first time that there were things out there beyond our understanding, ancient and hidden, and I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that Greenville and its surrounding woods held secrets darker and deeper than I could have ever imagined.

It was a revelation that would shape the years to come, drawing me back to those shadows time and again, searching for answers I was only beginning to understand I needed. Turning 21 in the wilderness of the mountains surrounding Greenville was meant to be a rite of passage, a step into manhood with the wilderness as my witness. My father, with his rough hands and weathered face carved from years of working under the open sky, had planned it all out, a father and son camping trip with a bottle of Jack Daniels as the centerpiece. To celebrate your stepping into being a man, He had said with a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. The day was spent setting up camp and recounting tales of past adventures,

of days when Greenville was even smaller, and the forest even more mysterious. As night fell, the forest around us came alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, a symphony of the wild that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, not out of fear, but reverence. After my third shot of whiskey, the world felt slightly askeue, a pleasant buzz softening the edges. That's when the night tore open with a screech that curdled my blood. My dad, off in the trees relieving himself, laughed off my startled jump. What's the matter, kiddo? Jack on the rocks too strong for you.

His amusement faded when the screech cut through the night air again, closer this time, a sound so alien it seemed to freeze the very marrow in my bones. What in the hell? He muttered, a rare note of uncertainty. in his voice as he stumbled back to the campfire. His face etched with concern. He fetched our rifles, his old lever action and my 22 long rifle, handling them to me with a seriousness I'd rarely seen. What was that? I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. Boy, I don't know, he replied, his gaze darting through the darkness that enveloped our camp. Been hunting out here for years, and I ain't never heard nothing like that. The screech tore through the air again.

this time right above us, so close I could almost feel the vibration of it. It was a sound that defied natural explanation, a blend of agony and anger that seemed to come from something neither human nor animal. Without thinking, my dad raised his rifle and fired into the darkness, the muzzle flash illuminating the forest for a fleeting moment. The echo of the gunshot was followed by a heavy thud, as if something massive had dropped from the trees. The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken fears.

We sat back to back for the rest of the night, rifles in our laps, jumping at every crack and rustle in the underbrush. Sleep was an impossible dream, the whiskey in our veins no match for the adrenaline coursing through us. As dawn broke, painting the sky with streaks of pink and gold, the forest seemed to return to its usual self, the terror of the night fading like mist in the sunlight. But the memory of the memory of the night fading like mist in the sunlight.

of that screech and the undeniable feeling of being hunted lingered long after we packed up camp and headed back to civilization. That trip, meant to mark my passage into adulthood, did more than that. It peeled back the veneer of the natural world, revealing a glimpse of something older, wilder, and utterly unfathomable. It was a birthday to remember, a stark reminder that there are things in this world, hidden in the dark and wild places, that defy understanding. The disappearance of Jessica cut through Greenville like a cold wind, leaving a chill of worry and fear in its wake. She was one of our own, a familiar face in the small constellation of our community, and her sudden absence cast a shadow over the town. It was Douglas

who came to me, his eyes burning with a mix of concern and something else, something deeper. Jessica wasn't just another missing person to him. She was the one who got away, the object of a quietly held affection that he'd never had the courage to act on. We have to do something, he said, his voice tight with determination. The resolve in his eyes was something I couldn't argue with, not that I wanted to. Despite the fear that twisted in my gut, the thought of not stepping up to help was worse. The search party gathered at dawn, a motley crew of locals armed with nothing but flashlights and a shared sense of purpose. We were assigned to the northeastern section of the forest,

an area so thick with underbrush it felt like moving through another world. Douglas led the way, his usual easygoing nature replaced by a focused intensity I'd rarely seen in him. Jessica, are you out here? Our voices echoed through the trees, hopeful calls met with silence. The search felt endless, a futile gesture against the vastness of the wilderness. As the day wore on, the optimism that had buoyed us began to wane, replaced by the heavy realization of just how easy it was to disappear in these woods. It was Douglas who spotted the cave, an ominous gash in the side of the mountain that seemed to swallow the fading light. She could be in there, he said, his voice a mix of hope and

fear. Everything in me screamed to stay away, memories of shadowy figures and unexplained screeches flooding back with a vengeance. But Douglas was already moving toward the cave's mouth, his flashlight cutting through the twilight like a beacon of desperation. I'll wait here, I called after him, my voice sounding small and hollow in the gathering darkness. There was a part of me that knew I should follow, that leaving him to face whatever might be lurking in that cave alone was a betrayal of our friendship. But fear rooted me to the spot, a cold, heavy weight that refused to budge. Time stretched, each minute feeling like an eternity as I waited for Douglas to reemerge. The forest around me grew darker, the sounds of the night creeping closer, than a voice,

my voice echoed from the depths of the cave, a perfect mimicry that sent a jolt of terror through me. Before I could process it, Douglas's scream shattered the silence, a sound of pure terror that had him stumbling out of the cave, his face ashen, eyes wide with horror. He couldn't speak, couldn't form the words to tell me what he'd seen in the darkness. All I could do was stand by him, a silent guardian against the night, as the sounds of something unspeakable echoed from the cave behind us. That night changed us, deepened the bond between us. Deepened the bond between the night. us with a shared secret too terrifying to speak aloud. Whatever Douglas had seen in the cave,

whatever had chased us from the woods that day, it was a reminder of the thin veil between our world and something much older, much darker. We had peered into the abyss, and the abyss had stared back, leaving its mark on us forever. The wildfire that swept through the national forests surrounding Greenville in the summer of 2021

was unlike anything our community had ever witnessed. It consumed everything in its path, with a ferocity that left us breathless, heartbroken, and, in a way, I couldn't fully understand at the time, relieved. The fire seemed like a cleansing force, purging the forest of its dark secrets, and, perhaps, the creatures that lurked within its shadows. In the aftermath, as our town struggled to rebuild from the ashes, I couldn't shake the feeling that the fire had been more than a bit more than a bit more than a shadow. mere act of nature. The memories of that night in the cave, of Douglas' terror and the inhuman

sounds echoing from the darkness, haunted me. The forest had held a malevolence, a presence that felt ancient and hungry, and now it was gone, reduced to char and ash. But it was the arrival of the government officials in the days leading up to the wildfire that truly set my mind racing. They came without warning, a convoy of black SUVs rolling into Greenville with an air of authority that was impossible to ignore. I watched them from the porch of the ranger station, a knot of unease growing in my stomach. They spoke in hush tones with the park superintendent, their questions pointed, and their glances toward the forest filled with a weight I couldn't decipher. When they ventured into the woods, they were gone for hours, emerging with expression. that were hard to read, and then, just as suddenly as they had arrived, they were gone.

Six days later, the fire started. The pieces of the puzzle were there, but fitting them together painted a picture that was hard to accept. The government had known something, had been searching for something in the woods around Greenville, and whatever they found, or didn't find, had led to a decision that changed everything. As I pieced together the evidence, The theory that formed was one of desperation and last resorts. The fire had been no accident but a containment measure, an attempt to eradicate whatever had been haunting the forest. The Wendigo, or whatever it had been, posed a threat that couldn't be controlled or understood.

Fire, a primal force as old as the creatures themselves, had been the answer. Living with this knowledge, this suspicion, was like carrying a weight that never eased. I found myself looking over my shoulder, jumping at shadows, wondering if the fire had truly been enough. The disappearances had stopped, yes, but at what cost? And was it a permanent solution or merely a temporary reprieve? In the quiet moments, when the wind whispers through the trees that have begun to reclaim the burned land, I can't help but wonder about the balance of nature and the unseen forces

that move within it. The government's intervention, if that's what it had been, felt like a breach of some ancient pact, a violation that could have consequences beyond our understanding. Greenville has begun to heal, but the scars remain, both on the land and in the hearts of those who remember what was lost. The fire took so much from us, but it also gave us a chance to start anew, to rebuild not just our town, but our understanding of the world and the mysteries it holds. as for me i keep searching keep looking for answers in the ash and the new growth because to forget to let the memories and the warnings fade would be the real tragedy the forest will always be a part of me a place of wonder and terror of beauty and darkness and i know deep down that the story isn't over the shadows may have receded but they're still there waiting watching reminding us that we're not alone in this world

and maybe just maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. For the sake of keeping things on the down low, let's just say my name is Howard. Looking back, I could never have guessed how that weekend at Lake Huron would turn my world upside down. It was late 2018, and I was just a 13-year-old kid trying to navigate the world one day at a time. That weekend, my family and I were heading to my mom's friend Carissa's place, nestled about a mile off the coast in the northern woods of Michigan. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine. I've always had a thing for forests,

just not the creatures that might be lurking in them. The journey from our home in the south of Michigan was a quiet one, at least for me. My mind raced with images of wolves and bears, hiding just beyond the tree line, watching, waiting. I don't want to go, I remember muttering more than once during the drive. My mom, in her usual comforting tone, would reply, It'll be fine, Howard.

If anything happens, we'll protect you. But words were just words, and they did little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach. We rolled into Bay City just as the sky began to dim, the setting sun casting long shadows that seemed to reach out from the forest. The lakehouse sat in a large clearing, with the dense woods encircling it like a dark, unending maze. That sense of dread I tried so hard to shake off.

It hit me full force the moment we arrived. But there was no turning back now. Trying to push my fears aside, I made an effort to mingle with Carissa and the others. They were nice enough, and for a short while, I managed to forget about the encroaching darkness just beyond the windows.

We had pizza, laughed, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Well, everyone except me. The forest loomed large in my mind, a silent watcher just waiting for the right moment. Later that evening, while the adults hung out in the basement, I found myself alone in the kitchen, my only company being a YouTube video playing on my phone.

That's when I heard it, a scraping sound coming from outside, right on the other side of the wall. My heart jumped into my throat. I was frozen, too scared to move, too scared to even breathe. The noise continued, relentless. as if something, or someone, was trying to claw their way in. But then, as suddenly as it started, the noise stopped. Curiosity overcame fear, and I mustered the courage to peek outside. To my relief,

it was just a deer, its antlers likely the culprits of the sound. My mom checked on me shortly after, chuckling when I told her about my scare. Deer are a symbol of peace and freedom, Howard, nothing to be afraid of, she reassured me. I wanted to believe her. I really did. That night I crashed on the couch with my Jurassic World blanket, the events of the evening still playing in my mind. Despite everything, I slept surprisingly well,

comforted by the thought that maybe, just maybe, my fears were unfounded. But as I would soon discover, some fears are rooted in a very dark reality. The next morning came way too, fast for my liking. Carissa, with her morning person energy, chirped, Hey, Howard, wake up, buddy, it's bright outside. I grogily opened my eyes, shocked to see it was already 2 p.m. How did I sleep in so late? Not that I was complaining. It just meant fewer hours of daylight to worry about the woods. After a quick breakfast, or lunch, I guess, Carissa decided we should all head to the lake. The idea didn't

excite me. The lake meant the beach, and the beach meant people, lots of them. And I've never been one to thrive in crowds. To make matters worse, when we got there, I found out that people included a bunch of little kids. Great, just my luck. I've had enough experiences with my younger cousin from Tennessee to know that kids, especially the loud and energetic ones, were not my cup of tea. So I did what any antisocial teenager would do. I grabbed my phone and planted myself just beyond the tree line, far enough to avoid unwanted interaction, but close enough to not seem like I was planning a solo expedition into the forest.

I figured I'd just watched some YouTube videos until it was time to go back. The Hodget Wins always knew how to get a laugh out of me, even when I was feeling completely out of my element. But then, something strange happened. I was halfway through a video, laughing quietly to myself, when I heard it. A voice, unmistakably like my grandmother's, calling out to me from the woods. Howard, come here, boy. It was exactly how she'd call me whenever she needed help with something. My initial reaction was confusion, then fear. I knew for a fact my grandmother was back on the beach with my mom.

I could see them from where I was sitting. The voice sounded so real, so convincing, yet slightly off. like when my grandma is out of breath after climbing the stairs to her apartment. Every instinct in me screamed that this was wrong, that I shouldn't head towards the voice. So I didn't. I ran back to my grandmother and my mom, my heart pounding out of my chest. When I told them what happened, they looked at me like I had grown a second head. It sounded like Grandma, I insisted, but they brushed it off, thinking I was making it up, or trying to find an excuse to go home.

But I wasn't. I knew what I heard, and it chilled me to the bone. We stayed at the beach for another hour or so, but I couldn't relax. Every sound from the forest made me tense up. Every shadow seemed to move. It was like the woods were alive, watching me, waiting for me to let my guard down. The ride back to the house was quiet, at least for me. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to make sense of what had happened.

But one thing was clear, I was not alone in feeling uneasy. The forest had eyes, and it had chosen me for some reason. What that reason was, I couldn't tell. But as the sun began to set and we approached the house, surrounded by the dark outline of the trees, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. After the beach incident, the day dragged on like a bad dream. I tried to stay close to my mom and Carissa, hoping their presence would somehow protect me from whatever was out there.

But as evening fell, my sense of unease grew stronger. The woods seemed to close in around us, a dark, impenetrable wall of shadows and secrets. Dinner passed in a blur. I wasn't hungry, my stomach tied in knots. Everyone else seemed to move on from the day's events, laughing and joking as if we weren't surrounded by miles of wilderness that harbored who knows what. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that something was waiting for the right moment to strike.

The breaking point came later that evening. We were all hanging out outside, trying to enjoy our last night at the lakehouse. Blitz, Carissa's Husky, had been my one source of comfort throughout this trip. He was always so happy and energetic, a welcome distraction from my fears. But even Blitz seemed on edge tonight.

his ears perked up, his eyes scanning the dark tree line. Then it happened. One of the kids, probably frustrated by Blitz's lack of interest in playing, kicked him hard. Blitz reacted instantly, lunging at the boy with a growl that sent shivers down my spine. I managed to grab his collar just in time, holding him back from doing any real harm. The parents rushed over, scolding and soothing, but the damage was done. The act was done. The atmosphere had shifted, tension crackling in the air like electricity. Carissa was furious, not just with the kid, but with Blitz too. I couldn't believe it. How could she blame the dog for defending himself?

I stayed outside with Blitz, trying to calm him down, but my mind was elsewhere. The forest seemed to press closer. The night sounds louder and more sinister than before. And then, I heard it, a stick snapping in the dark. heavy and deliberate. Blitz tensed, his growl low and menacing. He stared into the woods, his body rigid with aggression, and before I could react, he bolted into the trees, disappearing into the night. Panic took over. Carissa's husband, Steve, and my stepdad grabbed their guns and charged after Blitz, vanishing into the darkness. The rest of us huddled inside, the windows now menacing eyes peering into the soul of the forest. We turned off the lights,

hoping to see or hear something, anything, that would tell us they were okay. But there was only silence. An oppressive, terrifying silence that seemed to swallow up all hope. After what felt like hours, faint gunshots shattered the night, far off and desperate. Carissa wanted to go after them, but reason held us back. We had to stay inside, safe. and wait for them to return. But they didn't come back. The night dragged on, an endless cycle of fear and waiting. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and we fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares of shadows and screams. When morning finally came, it brought no relief, only horror. The sight that greeted us on the back porch will haunt me forever. Steve and my stepdad, or what was left of them, lay torn apart, a gruesome testament to the savagery of the night's events. It was clear then that we were dealing with something beyond our understanding, something ancient and malevolent that called the dark woods of Michigan its home. As the police arrived and questions were asked, I couldn't help but feel a

deep sense of dread. Whatever had attacked them was still out there, watching, waiting, and I knew deep down that our nightmare was far from over. I didn't sleep that night. How could I? The The images of Steve and my stepdad, mangled and lifeless, played over and over in my mind like a horror movie I couldn't pause. The house felt different now, tainted by death and fear. Every creak and whisper of wind sounded like a prelude to another nightmare. I lay on the couch, clutching my Jurassic World blanket, listening to the silence and wishing for mourning.

But morning seemed a lifetime away. My thoughts raced, trying to piece together what could have done such a thing. Bears, wolves, no, the savagery of it. It was something else, something worse. I remembered the stories I'd heard, legends of creatures that roamed these woods, tales I'd dismissed as just that, stories. But now, faced with the unimaginable, I wasn't so sure. Then, in the deepest shadows of the night, I heard it again.

The scraping. But this time, it was different, closer, personal. My heart froze. The sound wasn't coming from outside. It was right there, on the other side of the wall. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. Whatever was out there wasn't just passing by. It was here for me.

I didn't dare move. I barely breathed. The scraping continued, each sound a step closer to my doom, and then silence, deafening silence. I strained my ears hoping, praying it was gone. But the nightmare was far from over. The next sound I heard was the back door, slowly creaking open. A cold draught swept through the room, carrying with it the stench of decay and death.

My eyes watered, not just from the smell, but from fear. I was too scared to move, too scared to even scream. I just lay there, hidden underbush. my blanket, hoping it would somehow protect me from whatever horror was creeping into the house. And then I saw it, a shadow, tall and thin, moving with an eerie grace. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before, a creature of nightmares brought to life. It paused, as if sensing my presence, and turned its skull-like head in my direction. I could see its eyes, dark pits of malice, staring right at me.

I remembered the stories then, the legends of the Wendigo, a creature of hunger and horror. It all made sense, the disappearances, the savagery, the voice mimicking my grandmother. This was no bear.

This was something much, much worse. The Wendigo moved closer, its clawed hand reaching out towards me. I wanted to run, to scream, to do anything but just lie there. but I was paralyzed, trapped by my own fear.

It spoke then, in a voice so like my grandmother's, yet filled with a hunger that chilled my blood. Come with me, boy, it said, but I remained silent, refusing to give in to its call. Just when I thought it was over, that I was about to meet the same fate as Steve and my stepdad, I heard footsteps. Someone else was awake, moving around the house.

The Wendigo hesitated, then turned and vanished into the night as, silently as it had come. The next morning couldn't come soon enough. As we drove away from the lakehouse, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The forest seemed alive with unseen eyes, and I knew, deep down, that we were leaving something evil behind.

We never talked about what happened, not really. The official story was a bear attack, but I knew the truth. The Wendigo was out there, waiting, hungering, and I had survived its call, but the nightmare wasn't over. A month later, Carissa and her family disappeared, vanished without a trace. The only thing left behind was a kid's shoe and a blanket. The police searched, but they never found a thing. It was as if the forest had swallowed them whole.

I still think about that weekend, about the horror we faced. I don't know if I'll ever truly understand what happened. But I know one thing for sure. I'll never forget the Wendigo, and I'll never, ever go back to those woods again. They say everything happens for a reason, but I suspect everything happens for a Reese's. Like this commercial break.

Did you need 15 seconds away from music? Or 15 seconds to eat or Reese's? Perhaps it's true. Everything happens for a reases. I get so many headaches every month. It could be chronic migraine, 15 or more headache days a month, each lasting four hours or more. Botox, autobachylamum toxin A prevents headaches in adults with chronic migraine.

It's not for those who have 14 or fewer headache days a month. Prescription Botox is injected by your doctor. Effects of Botox may spread hours to weeks after injection causing serious symptoms. Alert your doctor right away as difficulty swallowing, speaking, breathing, eye problems or muscle weakness can be signs of a life-threatening condition. Patients with these conditions before injection are at highest risk. Side effects may include allergic reactions, neck and injection site pain, fatigue, and headache. Allergic reactions can include rash, welts, asthma symptoms, and dizziness. Don't receive Botox if there's a skin infection.

Tell your doctor your medical history, muscle or nerve conditions, including ALS-Lugherg's 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. It was one of those blazing summer days in Indiana when you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. and honestly, I was over it. Over the heat, over the endless days of doing absolutely nothing,

and definitely over the boredom that clung to me like a second skin. That's why when my cousins called me up, inviting me for a camping trip to some hidden gem in northern Ohio, I didn't think twice. Ohio has to be better than Indiana, right? I'm used to myself, packing a bag with a mix of excitement and a dash of adventure. The drive to my cousin's house was the first leg of my age, escape from monotony. I arrived to find them already buzzing with energy. Their gear spread out

like they were planning an expedition to uncharted territories. We packed everything into the back of an old but sturdy truck that had seen better days, squeezing in between coolers and camping gear, the anticipation building with every mile we put behind us. The journey to our destination was a mix of old tunes blasting through crackling speakers and tales of what awaited us. My cousins were vague about the details, teasing me with hints of breathtaking views and nights under a sea of stars. As we ventured further from civilization, the paved roads gave way to gravel, and then to nothing but dirt and dust. I remember waking up from a nap to the truck bouncing on uneven ground, surrounded by wilderness as far as the eye could see. We're off the grid now, my cousin declared with a grin, and I couldn't

help but feel a thrill at the thought. We parked the truck at the foot of the foot of the road. We parked the truck at the foot of a hill and hiked up to our campsite, our gear weighing us down but spirits high. The spot they had chosen was on top of a hill, overlooking a valley framed by dense woods. It was beautiful, serene, and so incredibly peaceful. Setting up camp didn't take long, and soon we were sitting around a campfire, the flames casting shadows that danced in the twilight. As darkness enveloped us, the conversation turned to the land we were on. In between fits of laughter, my cousins revealed that we weren't actually in a state park but on Native American land. They said it was some sacred hill, but the way they were chuckling made me think they were pulling my leg.

Yeah, right, I thought, not fully buying it, but intrigued by the idea. They mentioned the name of a tribe, which sounded legit, but I was too caught up in the adventure to question it further. It wasn't until the first scream shattered the night that the laughter died. in our throats. It was a sound that seemed to come from another world, a howl that carried across the hills and settled in the pit of my stomach. We tried to laugh it off, but the unease was palpable. The more we heard it, the closer it seemed to get, and the more we realized this was no ordinary camping trip. The night had wrapped us in its cool embrace, a stark contrast to the day's heat. Our campfire crackled, the only light in a sea of darkness that surrounded us

atop the hill. After the revelation about the land being sacred, a part of me felt a strange thrill at the thought, while another part couldn't shake off a creeping unease. That unease turned into cold dread when the first scream pierced the night. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard, a howl, a scream, something that seemed to tear through the fabric of the peaceful night, and embed itself into our bones. We all froze, the laughter dying on our lips, as we tried to convince each other it was just an animal. But deep down, we knew this was no animal sound we were familiar with.

The screams continued, each one sounding closer than the last, turning our initial fear into panic. I remember exchanging looks with my cousins, the same question reflected in our eyes. What should we do? Before we could answer, another story, scream, this one so close it felt like it was right next to us, made up our minds. Then, from the darkness of the tree line across the valley, it appeared. At first, all I saw was a shape, a shadow that

seemed too tall, too thin to be human. But as it stepped into the faint glow of the moonlight, there was no denying what we were seeing. A creature, humanoid but grotesquely elongated, sprinted towards us with unnerving speed. It was a scene straight out of the world. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, and for a moment we were too shocked to move. The shock quickly turned to terror, and without a word, we all turned and ran. The woods, dark and foreboding, seemed to close in on us as we stumbled through, driven by the primal fear of being chased by something we couldn't even begin to understand. The creature's screams followed us, a haunting soundtrack to our desperate escape. Those woods felt endless, and the terror seemed to stretch every single.

second into eternity. I don't know how we did it, but eventually we burst out of the tree line, the sight of the truck, a beacon of hope in the darkness. We didn't pause, didn't look back, just drove as fast as we could away from that hill, away from the screams. We ended up at a McDonald's, the only place open at that ungodly hour, trying to calm our racing hearts and shaking hands. None of us spoke much, what was there to say? We had come face to face, with something inexplicable, something terrifying. When dawn broke, we knew we had to go back, our gear, our belongings. They were all still up there.

Returning to the campsite felt like walking back into a nightmare. But in the light of day, everything seemed peaceful, untouched. It was almost as if the previous night had been a collective hallucination. But the fear we felt was real. The screams we heard were real. And the creature, it had to be real too. Later, curiosity got the better of me, and I looked up creatures of folklore online, stumbling upon the legend of the Wendigo.

The descriptions matched too closely to what we saw, sending a shiver down my spine. It was a chilling confirmation that what we encountered was not just a figment of our imagination. It was real, and it was out there in the dark, waiting. Duos can save the day, like superheroes and sidekicks or auto and home insurance. With USAA, you can bundle your auto and home and save up to 10%. Tap the banner to learn more and get a quote at usa.com slash bundle. Restrictions apply. Spring just slid into your DMs.

Grab that boho look for that rooftop dinner, those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your patio a glow up. Spring's calling. Ross, work your magic.