Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 6 Deep Woods Horror Stories: Terrifying Tales from the Wilderness

Episode Date: December 22, 2023

These are 6 Deep Woods Horror Stories: Terrifying Tales from the Wilderness Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Stories sent in to www.justcreepy.net Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:06:49 Story 2 00:16:44 Story 3 00:23:50 Story 4 00:29:15 Story 5 00:51:26 Story 6 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #deepwoods #forest 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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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 Perfect Perfectestro for Every Cat. Have your human visit perfect bistro.com. Growing up in rural Utah, my childhood was a symphony of outdoor adventures. I spent countless hours exploring the dense forests and winding canyons that enveloped my family's vast property. By the time I turned 13, those woods were as familiar to me as the back of my hand, and that sense of intimacy with the wilderness brought both freedom and recklessness into my life. Looking back, I realize how naive I was, how I believed that nothing

could harm me in those untouched woods. Oh, how wrong I was. It all began during the summer before my eighth grade year. School was out, and I had an abundance of unsupervised free time while my parents were at work. I grew weary of just hanging around the house all day. And so I did, decided to embark on a new adventure. My grandparents' house was about a mile and a half away, nestled deep within the woods. I thought it would be a great change of scenery, and an opportunity to raid their pantry for snacks. The first few hikes to my grandparents' house were uneventful. Their home backed right up to the tree line, so I would emerge from the dense forest directly into their backyard. My grandmother always greeted me with enthusiasm, eager to prepare an after-school

snack while I lounged in front of the TV. It quickly became a comforting routine for those initial weeks of summer. The hike there and back was peaceful and serene, just me and the beauty of nature. But then, in late June, things began to feel off. The usual sounds of chirping birds and chattering squirrels had grown silent, and the woods seemed to take on a darker, foreboding aura. I shrugged it off, attributing it to the approaching summer storm clouds. I should have paid more attention to the warning signs. About halfway to my grandparents' house, the first raindrops began to fall, and I hastily pulled up my hood to shield myself from the impending deluge.

As I trudged on, crackling thunder suddenly erupted, much closer than I had expected. The wind picked up, violently whipping the branches around. It was still mid-afternoon, yet the sky had transformed into an ominous shade of gray-green, Determined to reach shelter before the storm fully unleashed its fury, I quickened my pace. But the heavens opened up with a vengeance, and the rain came down in blinding sheets. The ground turned to mud beneath my feet, and rainwater dripped down my neck, chilling me to the bone. Despite my discomfort, I pressed onward toward the warm, dry haven of my grandparents' home. Out of nowhere, an agonizing screech pierced the air, unlike anything I was.

I had ever heard from local wildlife. I froze, my heart pounding as I desperately scanned the rain-soaked surroundings. Through the downpour and the shadows between the trees, a flickering light materialized, swaying erratically as though carried by someone walking. Had my grandfather come looking for me? I called out, but my voice was swallowed by the cacophony of thunder and heavy rain. The light continued to advance, drawing nearer. It was too short to be my tall grandfather holding a lantern, and panic surged within me. The screech sounded again, closer this time. Without thinking, I turned and sprinted blindly through the woods in the opposite direction. I didn't care that I was heading deeper into unfamiliar territory.

All I cared about was escaping that unearthly presence. As I splashed through the mud and fought my way through thorny brush, my clothes snagged on branches, and I tasted mud and blood in my mouth. lightning cracked ominously, striking a nearby tree, the deafening sound ringing in my ears as the acrid scent of smoke filled my nose. Still, I pressed on through the darkness, my feet slipping out from under me. I crashed to the ground, mud-caped and battered, but the thing was getting closer. Its eerie, flickering light weaved between the trees. I scrambled to my feet and took off again, my legs aching and my head throbbing. I gasped for breath as I ran, unable to see clearly in the inky blackness.

Just when I thought my legs would give out, I stumbled upon a rocky clearing. An abandoned miners shack stood against the far wall, and I hurled myself at the weathered wooden door just as the chilling screech echoed from the tree line. With trembling hands, I forced the warped door shut behind me, plunging the shack into complete darkness. I sank down against the wall, shaking uncontrollably,

my heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the rain. The thing outside continued to wail, emitting a bone-chilling scream filled with anger and anguish. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I must have passed out on the dirt floor. When I woke up, it was pitch black inside the shack, and the storm's fury had diminished to a steady drizzle. The shack itself stood silent and still. Whatever had been out there seemed to have moved on. Blurry and disoriented, I cautiously made my way outside. The moon peaked through the clouds.

casting faint ethereal light upon the woods. With my arms outstretched, I walked slowly through the trees, navigating carefully in the dim illumination. I wandered through the night, terrified that the sinister presence might still be lurking in the shadows, waiting for me. It was a long and harrowing journey, but by some miracle, I finally emerged from the woods as the sun began to rise. I stumbled up to my own back porch, burst inside, and bolted the door shut behind me. Collapsing on the floor, I was overcome with relief at being home. My parents never found out about my misadventure that day, but the memory continues to haunt me, especially when I find myself alone at home for extended periods.

Deep down, I know that whatever sinister presence I encountered out there is still lurking in those forests, waiting patiently. I've never ventured beyond my backyard since that day. Some nights, as I lie in bed, I still hear haunting screeches echoing through the trees, and I pray that it never finds me again. I was 17 years old when this happened, and there was a full moon in the night sky,

casting an eerie glow across the dense forest. I was hiking through the woods with some friends, Tom and Sarah. At first, it was a beautiful autumn evening, but as the sun was fully consumed by the horizon, the woods became more sinister, and before long, a sense of foreboding settled over us. Seeing my friends obviously creeped out, I tried to reassure them. Come on, guys, don't be such wimps, it's just a little darkness, and some howling wolves possibly. What could go wrong?

Tom, the more adventurous of us was the one who initially convinced us to go on this nighttime hike, claiming it would be a memorable experience. But now, as the shadows grew longer and the forest seemed to close in around us, even I couldn't help but regret my decision. Sarah, who had been unusually quiet since we entered the woods, finally said something. Danny, I'm not so sure about this. It's way too quiet out here. I've heard stories about strange things happening in these woods during a full moon too. I'd heard the stories as well. mysterious disappearances of pets, sightings of strange figures and silhouettes. I always thought they were superstitions.

However, as we continued deeper into the woods, a chill crept up my spine. Relax, Sarah, Tom said, putting his arm around her. It's just your imagination playing tricks on you. Besides, Danny's going to protect us, right? I forced a smile, trying to hide my unease. Yeah, don't worry, Sarah. I'll make sure nothing happens to you. We continued walking in silence, the crunch of leaves beneath our boots, and the occasional hoot of an owl the only sounds in the otherwise still night. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long, eerie shadows

on the forest floor. I couldn't help but feel like we weren't alone out there. As we walked, we came across an old overgrown trail that we'd never seen before. It was hidden well behind a thick tangle of brambles and fallen branches. Tom's eyes lit up with excitement. Hey, check this out, guys, he said, pointing to the hidden trail. This could be a shortcut back to the car. Let's take it. Sarah and I exchanged uneasy glances, but we followed Tom as he began to hack away at the underbrush with a pocket knife. As we cleared a path, I couldn't shake the feeling we were walking into something we shouldn't. The farther we went down the trail, the denser the forest became.

It was like the trees were closing in around us, and I could no longer see the moon or the stars through the thick canopy. The air grew cooler, and a strange musty scent filled our nostrils. Tom, are you sure about this? Sarah asked, her voice trembling. Tom hesitated for a moment, looking back at us. We've come this far. We might as well see where it leads. It's got to lead somewhere eventually, right? Reluctantly we continued down the trail, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of leaves.

The darkness seemed all-consuming, and I felt a growing sense of unease, like a weight pressing down on my chest. As we walked, I noticed strange marks on the trees, deep, claw-like gouges that looked fresh. I pointed them out to Tom and Sarah. Probably just bears or something, Tom said, though he didn't sound convinced himself. Are there bears around here? Sarah asked, her voice barely above a whisper. I think there are, but usually they keep to themselves, I replied, trying to reassure her. We continued walking, the marks in the trees becoming more frequent.

I couldn't shake the feeling we were being watched, and I wished we had turned back when we had the chance. It felt like the forest had swallowed us whole, and I had no idea where we were or how to get back to the main trail. After what felt like hours, we finally reached a small clearing. In the center of the clearing was a dilapidated, long-abandoned cabin. The roof had partially caved in, and the windows were shattered. It looked like something out of a thriller or a horror film. Why on earth would anyone build a cabin way out here? Sarah asked, her voice trembling.

I didn't have an answer for her. The whole situation had taken on a surreal, nightmarish quality, and I was beginning to fear that we had made a terrible mistake by venturing off the main trail. Tom, always the adventurer, couldn't resist exploring the cabin. Come on, guys, let's check it out. Who knows, maybe we'll find something cool inside. Reluctantly, we followed him into the cabin. The door creaked open with a deafening noise,

and I winced, praying we didn't disturb someone or something inside. The interior was empty and silent, save for the wind that whistled through the broken windows. The moonlight spilled into the cabin, revealing a layer of dust and cobwebs that covered everything. It was clear that no one had been in there in a very long time. As we moved further inside, I noticed something strange, a series of odd scratch marks on the cabin's wooden walls. Guys, look at this, I said, pointing at the marks.

Tom came over and examined them. Those are definitely not from animals. They look human. A shiver ran down my spine as the realization sank in. Someone must have been here recently, leaving these marks. We need to get out of here now. As we turned to leave, a low, guttural growl echoed from outside the cabin. The three of us froze, our hearts pounding. What was that? Sarah whispered, her face pale. I don't know, but it didn't really sound like an animal, I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. Tom, ever the brave one,

moved toward the door, peering outside. I don't see anything, but we need to go. Whatever it was, it was too close for comfort. We made our way back outside, and as we retreated from that cabin, the growling sound grew louder, more menacing. I couldn't shake the feeling we were being hunted. The moon, now high in the sky, bathed the forest in an eerie, silvery light. My friends looked scared, just like I felt. As we hurried back down the trail, The growling seemed to be getting closer. My heart raced. Every rustle in the underbrush sent a jolt of fear through my body.

I don't think I'd ever been so scared before. Without warning, a dark shape burst out of the underbrush, lunging at us. It was a massive creature, its fur matted, and its eyes glowed with otherworldly malevolence. As I really took in what I was looking at, all I could think was, werewolf. My mind instantly compared it to similar forms and shapes I'd seen before, and this creature happened to resemble the werewolves I'd seen in some movies. Tom shouted, run, waking me from my stupor. We sprinted down the trail as fast as our legs could carry us. The furry thing was uncannily fast. Its heavy footsteps and ragged breathing

echoed in our ears. My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest. As we ran, the forest was a blur of trees and moonlight. Even so, I could hear the creature gaining on us. us. It's growling, growing louder and more frenzied. I didn't know how much longer we could keep it up, let alone stay ahead of it. I turned back one time to look at it. It looked like someone had put a wolf's face on a human's body. Indeed, what I'd seen from scary movies, a werewolf. No matter how many times I tried to deny it, that's what it looked like. As we neared the end of the trail, I risked another glance over my shoulder. The beast was almost on us. its yellow eyes locked on mine.

A bizarre feeling came over me, the idea that I was the first to be targeted. If it did catch up to us, would I be torn apart first? The creature's snout snarled, revealing far too much drool. I pushed myself beyond my limits, running faster,

adrenaline coursing through my veins. We burst out of the trail and back onto the main path, and this time I didn't look back. I could hear the creature's enraged howling because for some reason it had stopped pursuing us. Yet, it sounded so angry. I think it knew it couldn't follow us beyond the boundary of that hidden trail,

but for what reason, I can't be sure. We ran all the way back to the car, and suddenly, our breathless crying turned into laughter. I think we were just relieved we had narrowly escaped some monster that shouldn't even be real. As we drove away from those woods, I couldn't help but think about the left, legends and stories I had dismissed as superstition. The memory of those glowing yellow eyes would

haunt my dreams for years. We never spoke of that night to anyone, fearing that no one would believe the story, but the three of us knew it was a secret we would carry with us to the grave. At last, I've had the urge to share it somewhere, and at least this way, it's anonymous. I've often wondered about that supposed werewolf. Why did it attack us? Why couldn't it leave the trail? Was it by itself? Maybe it was cursed to roam the woods under the full moon. I hate the idea that it may have been part of a larger pack. I may never know the answers to these questions,

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with warm, sunny days that weren't too scorching. Each day, I covered around eight to ten miles, relishing the breathtaking scenery. I occasionally encountered fellow hikers and backpackers, but for the most part, I was on my own. On the third day, a subtle unease began to creep over me. I noticed that the birds and wildlife had grown unusually quiet. The few hikers I encountered appeared anxious and avoided eye contact, their friendly smiles replaced with worried expressions. I chalked it up to venturing deeper into the backcountry, but a sense of unlawful. unease lingered. That night, I set up camp beside a babbling creek. I built a fire, even though the night remained warm. Leaving my tent open to let in the fresh air, I drifted off to sleep,

only to be awakened by what sounded like footsteps and crunching leaves outside. I lay there, straining to hear any unusual sounds, but apart from the typical nighttime forest noises, I couldn't discern anything out of the ordinary. Still, it took me a long time to settle back and to sleep. The next day, I continued my hike, ascending out of the valley I had been in. The terrain became rockier, and the trees grew denser. The feeling of being watched persisted, though I never caught sight of anyone. I attributed it to nerves from extended solitude.

As dusk descended, I pitched my tent in a clearing atop a row. ridge with commanding views of the surrounding peaks. I cooked my dinner, cleaned up, and settled in for the night. The full moon cast eerie shadows inside my tent, playing tricks on my tired eyes. Exhausted from a long day of hiking, I eventually drifted into slumber. Suddenly, I jolted awake as my tent shook violently, its poles bending and collapsing onto me. My first thought was a bare attack, but when I emerged from the tent, there was nothing to be seen. The tent fabric remained untouched, and the night had returned to stillness and silence. I was puzzled and rattled, but managed to reassemble the tent and tried to return to sleep. Morning came, and I packed up swiftly, eager to leave the exposed ridge.

Overnight, the warm weather had given way to a chilling breeze. Dark clouds gathered ominously as I descended, and thunder rumbled in the distance. I quickened my pace, hoping to to reach the next shelter before the impending storm. As I neared the shelter, rain began to pour just as it came into view. I sprinted the last hundred yards, relieved to have made it in time. However, my relief was short-lived. Upon taking off my raincoat, I discovered that the shelter had changed. Handprints and claw marks marred the inside walls. Filthy rags littered the floor, and the fire pit held charred bones, exuding a foul odor of burnt hair and flesh. Terrified, I backed away from the shelter, my heart pounding. The wind intensified, howling through the trees, and then I saw it,

a looming, hulking shadow moving through the woods toward me. Without any choice I turned and fled into the raging storm, the rain pelting my face, thunder crashing overhead. I slipped on the muddy trail but kept going, my sweater catching on branches as I careened wildly downhill. The entity pursued me relentlessly, closing the gap. Finally, I burst out of the trees into a rocky clearing just as lightning struck directly behind me. The deafening crack reverberated through my body, and I froze, slowly turning around. The woods had returned to a profound stillness. raindrops dripped from the leaves, and there was no sign of the pursuer. Had I imagined the entire ordeal?

Exhausted and soaked, I stumbled upon a small cave nestled among the rocks where I could wait out the storm. As the wind picked up once more, I squeezed into the farthest corner, shivering uncontrollably. Eventually, the rain tapered off, and I emerged to assess my surroundings. night would soon fall, and I needed to find a safe place to make camp. Numb with cold and fear, I stumbled forward, flinching at every swaying branch and rustling bush. As I passed through a dense section of the forest, I felt an unsettling sensation. Someone or something was watching me again. My breath quickened, and I broke into a jog.

The sun dipped below the ridge, casting elongated shadows across the path. Rounding a corner, I collided with a solid but strangely soft figure. Recoiling, I looked up, horrified by the sight of a pale, demonic face with black, empty eyes and rotting fangs protruding from its grotesque maw. It loomed menacingly over me. I screamed and turned to run, but gnarled hands gripped my shoulders, and sharp claws dug into my skin. Fetted breath washed over me as the creature's impossibly wide mouth seemed poised to devour me whole.

Everything went black, and I must have lost consciousness. When I finally came to, I was alone on the dark trail. If the creature had been real, it was now gone. Struggling to my feet, I grabbed my gear and made a frantic dash down the mountain, twigs snapping behind me, my heart pounding in my chest. I burst out of the trees and saw the parking area below. I half stumbled, half slid down the last stretch of the trail, and sprinted for my car.

I tossed everything into the back seat, started the engine, locked the doors, and sped down the winding mountain road. Even from inside the car, I could hear the chilling screams echoing off the dark forest. Whomever or whatever those screams came from, I would never know. I drove through the night, not stopping until I pulled into my driveway. I left all my gear in the car and rushed inside, collapsing on the couch just as the sun began to rise. To this day, I have no idea what I encountered out there, but one thing is for certain,

I will never venture into those woods again. Something malevolent lurks there, waiting for the next unsuspecting wanderer to brave that trail alone. 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 Dianian, country rock of Eric Church on July 19th. Tickets on sale now at Yamava Theater.com. Only at Yamava Resort and Casino, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You in? Must be 21 to enter. You said this place was steps from the water. We just haven't found the steps yet.

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This particular story takes me back to a time over 16 years ago when I was just a teenager growing up in the remote wilderness. My childhood in teenage years were defined by my love for camping and spending as much time as possible outdoors. Two summers in a row, I joined a group of like-minded individuals whose mission was to travel the rural back roads and clean up any garbage we encountered. Most of the time, it was a routine job along the roadside, but occasionally the park rangers would request our help in cleaning up trails and county roads

where people had illegally dumped their trash deep in the woods. On this particular day, our group had to split up into different quadrants to cover more ground efficiently. We were given GPS units, although their accuracy at that time was far from reliable, often being off by up to a hundred meters. This inaccuracy didn't bother me much as I harbored dreams of becoming a trail guide or forest ranger. However, some of my companions were uncomfortable with the idea of venturing too far from the main roads.

This left me with the task of being dropped off at the end of a forest service road, where I would have to make my way back to our designated cleanup area. Each of us was equipped with a roll of garbage bags and a poke stick to collect trash. The area I found myself in was notorious for being one of the larger dump sites. People had discarded old couches, chairs, and even mattresses, but it seemed that someone with a flatbed truck had already come through to pick up the larger items.

All that remained were the smaller pieces like bottles, cans, bags, and papers. As I began my cleanup, I came across the remnants of something far darker than discarded furniture. There, nestled amidst the trash, was a litter of puppies. While I wasn't equipped with a radio to call for assistance, my duty was clear. I couldn't leave these poor creatures behind. So, I carefully collected them, placing them in a bag separate from the pile of other refuse I had already gathered. My intention was to give these puppies a proper burial, so I dropped off my backpack of supplies

and my poke stick near the road. With just the bag in hand, I ventured into the woods, walking for about twenty minutes, until I found a large pine tree that seemed like a fitting resting place for the pups. Placing the bag at the base of the tree, I began searching for a suitable stick or rock to dig a hole. After breaking a large branch in half and sharpening one end with my pocket knife, I returned to the tree and began digging. The process was slow due to the numerous roots in the soil, but eventually I managed to create a hole about a foot and a half deep. With great sadness, I laid the puppies to rest without

the bag, as I didn't want to add to the litter of trash, already plaguing the woods. I took a moment to say a quiet prayer, my heart heavy with sorrow. As I covered the grave with dirt, my eyes welled up with tears. Witnessing such cruelty and abuse had always been difficult, but I knew it was my duty to do what I could to provide these innocent animals with a dignified farewell. With the The grave covered, I placed several pine cones in a rock I had found on top as a makeshift memorial. Leaving the sight, I began to walk away when I heard a strange noise, a mixture of a moan and a growl, emanating from about 50 feet to my left. I couldn't see the source of the sound due to the thick foliage and branches that obscured my view. Frozen in place,

I stopped talking and moved quietly, straining my ears for any further sounds. It wasn't one of those eerie moments when the forest falls completely silent, but rather a subtle change in the soundscape. The birds were still out there, but their calls seemed to have shifted to a different area farther from where the sound had originated. Lost in my distracted state, I had been sitting there for about three minutes when I heard it again, a small branch falling from a tree. This time, I was sure something was out there. Slowly, I tried to peer through the branches to my left, but my position beneath the tree. made it difficult to see anything clearly.

Without warning, another noise caught my attention, a low-pitched whistle that sent shivers down my spine. It was then that I decided I had seen and heard enough. Glancing behind me to ensure my path was clear, I turned and began to run. I looked back several times during my frantic retreat, but I was not pursued, and I never saw that mysterious creature again.

To this day, I remain haunted by the memory of that unexplained, encounter in the woods. I reported what I had seen to the ranger in charge that day, but his dismissive explanation of a mange-infested raccoon didn't sit right with me. The creature's appearance defied all logic, resembling nothing I had ever seen or read about. Over the years, I've dedicated time to researching the enigma I encountered that day, but it remains a mystery. Whenever I'm in the woods, I find myself constantly looking up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the creature that defied classification. This episode is brought to you by Ultima Replenisher. Health is all about balance, like a salad, with fries.

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Marvel Television's television. Dear Devil, Born Again, now streaming only on Disney Plus. Back when I was completing my master's degree, I had to share an apartment with someone to keep the costs down. After putting out an ad on Facebook, I received a message from a guy called Jake. At first, I was terrified that I'd end up living with some psychopath, but the person I found ended up being my longest and closest friend. One of the things we immediately bonded over was our mutual love of long-distance hiking. He first mentioned it on the phone when I asked about his hobbies and interests, and after that, we spent about a half hour sharing experiences and enthusing over the great outdoors.

We went on our first trip during spring break of 2006, and it was pure bromance, if you catch my drift. Jake was like a brother from another mother, and although we both moved elsewhere following the completion of our studies, we made sure to keep in touch via social media and online games. On top of that, we headed out on some long-distance hikes together, either once or twice a year. We used to go real hard back when we still had the knees and ankles for it, and our choices of destination tended to be extremely remote. Most of our friends who joined us would blister up their heels for a few days with us, and then say never again on the ride back.

So for the most part, the trips tended to be just me and him. We both ticked off Baxter State Park and the Adirondacks while we were living in the North East. Then, after Jake moved down to Virginia, we visited both Shenandoah and the Great Smoky Mountains. But as time went on, we started pining for somewhere a little further afield. That's how we settled on heading out to the Bighorn Mountains in Wyoming, or more specifically, the Cloud Peak Wilderness. The Cloud Peak Wilderness is the centerpiece of a roadless block of land that's almost 200,000 acres in size, making it one of the single largest wilderness areas in the entire

of North America. If ever we were going to get the full Lewis and Clark experience, it was there. So, late one spring, we met up in a small town called Buffalo before heading out into the mountains. The Cloud Peak trip happened in 2014, and we were both pretty experienced outdoorsmen by that point. So at first, marching off into the trees just felt like business as usual. It was only around 24 hours in that we realized we were a day's walk from the nearest highway, meaning we were almost completely cut off from civilization. I've been to some far-flung places before, but there was something different about being out in Cloud Peak.

Areas like the Appalachian Trail feel wild, but their roads more traveled, if you will. Whereas out in Cloud Peak, it felt as though we were crossing over some dangerous frontier. In light of that, we remained cautious and careful as we progressed along our route. But as the days went by and fatigue started to set in, we began to get more confident and much more explorative.

Jake was carrying an old Colt 45, having obtained the necessary permits to do so, so we weren't particularly worried about bears or any other variety of wildlife. What we weren't worried about was our dwindling water supply. In order to walk the vast distances that we tended to cover, we kept our water supplies minimal to maintain mobility. You could always find a stream or creek to top up your canteens, mid-journey, whereas trying to lug gallons worth of water just wasn't an option if you wanted to cover any serious ground. Every other hiking trip, we'd had no problem finding water, and we'd even plan our

routes to leapfrog from water source to water source. But then, late April of 2018 turned out to be unlike any other I can remember, and it completely sent our plans askew. It was hot, real hot, and as much as it made for great tanning weather, days upon days of unseasonably high temperatures meant a lot of our water sources were too shrunken and stagnant to be safe. Each one we passed, we got more and more desperate until, in the end, we just about jumped for joy when we came across a fast-flowing mountain stream. We filled our canteens as much as possible, but we knew the rest of the hike would be pretty hellish,

unless we got some serious rain. If we wanted to make it out of the wilderness without risking heat stroke, we needed to be conservative, resourceful, and a little bit lucky. We managed the first two, the third, not so much. On day six of a planned nine-day hike, we were once again in dire straits in terms of our water supplies. You can always tell when things are getting really bad when your pee starts to look like Bacardi Dark.

And although we really didn't want to, it was looking like we might have to cut the hike sure, to make a bee line to the nearest convenience store, which by that point was going to be a day and a half's hike at least. We pushed on, and at one point we were walking along some barely carved out trail when we decided to stop for a water break. We sipped, and I mean sipped, at our half-filled canteens. Then Jake walked off to take a leak up against a tree. He walked out of sight, and then the next thing I heard was like a high-pitched yap or bark, the kind you hear out of a fox or coyote.

The next thing I hear is Jake saying, Jesus Christ, as if the bark had suddenly spooked him. Honestly, I thought the whole thing was pretty funny, some hardened hiker getting scared by some furry woodland creature. So, I picked myself up and headed off into the trees to make fun of him. I found Jake alone invisibly shaken, fastening up his pants while looking up at the slopes above us. Given the high-pitched noise the animal made, I figured it was something small and fairly harmless.

So the fact that Jake was so spooked made the sight all the more amusing to me. I asked him what it was that he saw, be it a fox or a coyote or what have you, and he tells me no, that it wasn't an animal that made the noise. It was a boy, a boy that had then scurried off into the trees after scaring him half to death. After a touch more humiliation on my part, Jake started wondering aloud what a kid would be doing out there all alone. And to me, the answer was fairly obvious. The kid wasn't alone. It couldn't have been.

It was probably out here camping with his family or something, and he just stumbled across some hiker taking a leak while out playing. I guess we skipped a few logical steps given how thirsty we were, because all I could think about was finding their camp so we could beg for some water. If they had kids, chances are they'd be good folks willing to share a little water with us. In which case, we'd be all set until the next reliable natural source. Jake, on the other hand, didn't seem to think that it was a good idea at all. I thought he was crazy. We had a golden opportunity to resupply our water and maybe get a little hot food out of it too.

And there he was, second-guessing the whole thing. When I asked him why he was so nervous, he replied, and I quote, I think there's something wrong with that kid. I took this to mean that the kid had maybe learning difficulties or something like that. But I also knew that Jake wasn't so backward as to be freaked out over something as simple as a disability. Then when I asked what he meant by wrong with the kid, he just went quiet before agreeing to go look for the kid's parents.

I just figured that he changed his mind, but his rational brain took over and accepted that we needed water. I didn't stop to think about what he'd seen might have actually scared the life out of him, even if it was just a kid. Jake pointed us in the direction the kid ran off, then we trudged up the hill in the hopes of finding his parents. After a few minutes of walking,

dense forests opened up into a football field-sized clearing, and on the other side of it stood this ancient-looking log cabin. From where we were standing, I was pretty sure that I could see someone little on an old porch swing, that was sat out front. This was great news. Our problems were solved. At least that's the way I saw it.

Jake was still reluctant to approach them. He didn't say it, but you could just see it in his face as we slowly walked towards the cabin. As we got closer, I realized the person on the porch swing was very old. Like so old it didn't look like

they ever really left that swing. They were also, and I don't mean to sound so judgmental, I know time comes for us all. the single most facially disadvantaged person I had ever laid eyes on, and that's putting it as politely as I possibly can. I figured it was all down to some kind of medical condition, but when I politely asked if they had any water to spare,

someone emerged from the cabin, and the proverbial penny dropped. Neither person had a chin to speak of. Both were big, thick glasses, and both had this completely blank stare that seemed to bore right into you. The person who walked out of the cabin was holding a small dog, and although they were short enough to be mistaken for a kid, they had to be in their late teens to early twenties. Then right as we made eye contact, he barked at me.

I think my eyebrows must have shot up to my hairline as I turned to Jake, who was already slack-jawed and gopping, as if to say, it's him, I told you. I remember stammering the beginning of something, then just stopping when I realized these people simply weren't, weren't going to talk to us. Not even because they weren't willing to, but because they just couldn't. Something you also have to understand is that the barks didn't sound voluntary. They sounded like ticks, like something he didn't have any control over. I started to talk to them

both real slow, like you talk to a child or something, telling them, Hi there, we need some water. Could you get some water from your house? We'd be super grateful if you, the dog, the manchild, was holding barked right as I was trying to talk, and then the man-child himself barked even louder. It pains me to admit it, but I started to get really nervous. When the man-child walked back inside the house, he moved with purpose, like he was going to get something, and I said a small, silent prayer that thing wouldn't be loaded if you get my drift. Me and Jake were both wound up like springs, waiting for him to reappear. But when the door opened again, it wasn't the box.

barking manchild who appeared. It was someone so strikingly different looking that I was actually dumbstruck for a second. It was a girl, a younger girl, probably in her early to mid-teens. And unlike the rest of her family, she acted relatively normal. But when it came to her looks, they were beyond striking. She looked like she could have been a child star or something. She had this jet black hair and these bright amber eyes, both in stark contrast to the sandy blonde hair and pale blue eyes of her relatives. She could also talk, albeit in extremely broken English, and made that clear before I could even introduce myself by asking, What you want, Mr. So, I was much more receptive to our request for water, and invited us inside

to fill up our canteens from a water tank that they kept in their kitchen, or at least what would pass for a kitchen. The inside of the house was filthy, with junk and trash covering almost every available surface, and the water inside the tank the girl referred to did not look drinkable whatsoever. We started searching the cabinet for any kind of bottled water, being more than prepared to pay well over regular sale price for whatever we could find. But the little dark-haired girl interrupted our search, embarrassing us in the process. I started to explain that we were just looking for soda or bottled water, anything to quench our thirst, but the girl just told us, you need to leave. When we asked why, she explained that her daddy had arrived home and that he didn't

like strangers. For a moment, Jake seemed to find some courage, possibly on account of how close we were to resupply, so he walked out of the kitchen and backed down the short hallway in the direction of the home's front door. The next thing I hear is a bark, much similar to the one the man-child had omitted, only this one was much louder and much deeper. I too moved in the direction of the hallway, my heart rate climbing rapidly as I did so, but I was cut off by Jake, who had a terrified look on his face. All he said was, run. A second later, he lunged past me in the direction of a screen-covered back door,

and after he opened it, we went tearing out the back of the house and into the woods. The whole time I could hear this huge daddy person screaming and shouting in complete gibberish, probably furious that his family had allowed strangers into the house. And we'd been wearing our heavier packs. We would have been screwed. But since we were traveling relatively light, we didn't have to put down our packs to go in the house to collect water. If we'd had to, we'd have left them out with the family,

meaning we'd have no choice but to confront Daddy to retrieve them. I didn't get a look at the guy, but Jake did. When I asked him to describe the guy, he used but one word. Monster. They certainly sounded like it to me from the noises he was making. I'm grateful to this day that we didn't have to deal with him. The only problem we were left with then was our original one, and after having run full pelt for a sustained period, we needed water more than ever. We walked a little further north, just running on pure adrenaline by that point. When out of nowhere, we heard the sound of rushing water. That family lived off it, most probably

came from there, and chances were that Daddy saw it as part of his property. We moved fast to collect water, so we didn't exactly have time to celebrate the stream's discovery at the time. All that came later, once we were at a safe distance. We were able to complete the remainder of the hike, and by the end of it, the incident with the house in the middle of nowhere had already become a kind of campfire story-style anecdote. It was definitely unnerving to see the condition those folks were in and downright scary when we realized that we were inadvertently trespassing in the home of a furious giant. But those horrors aren't what stuck with me after we got home and went on with our lives. After having talked about the whole thing with Jake during the remainder of our

hike, we came to a very depressing conclusion. The family had probably been living there a long time, and most likely refused to move after the region was declared a wilderness area. There was also a really good chance that there had been some interbreeding in the family, most likely going back generations, considering the condition they were in. At least everyone except the girl. She looked so unlike her relatives that, after a while, I started to suspect that she wasn't related to them at all. And this is where I started to go down a rabbit hole of sorts. I did a ton of research into inbreeding in the United States, and as you can probably figure, it makes for some pretty horrifying reading. I'm not going to share all of the deeply unsettling stuff that I've

learned. Just two little tidbits that I think might be relevant. Number one is that historically speaking, inbreeding in the rural United States, happened out of necessity. Some families were simply too isolated or unwilling to give up a family member capable of farm labor. For the most part, second cousins would wed second cousins, but sometimes, in more disturbing cases, brothers would wed sisters, or fathers would lay with daughters. But even someone comfortable with such a perversion knows that there are limits to how far you can push a small gene pool, which is undoubtedly what led to nasty rumors of kidnapping and forced breeding. I read multiple accounts of this. Some were more reliable than others, but it definitely seems to be a thing among isolated or

reclusive families and tribes all over the world. After hours of research, the situation seemed obvious to me, but after failing to find any kind of missing persons report that might correlate with the girl we'd seen at the cabin, I decided to contact the police out in Buffalo to see if they knew anything about the family living out near Cloud Peak. The first officer I spoke to claimed no knowledge of them and insisted that permanent housing wasn't permitted in any of the state's wilderness areas. He explained that we must have gotten lost and wandered onto someone's land and rudely dismiss the idea of me and Jake being capable navigators. I had to repeatedly request a phone conversation with the town's chief of police to get any kind of clarification,

but when it came, it only raised more questions than it answered. The day I finally got him on the phone, I was actually out running errands, so I had to pull over to the side of the road in order to talk with him. I was practically shaking with anticipation when he told me that he'd already heard my story, and when he asked me if I was a journalist, I had a pretty good feeling that I was about to finally get to hear the truth. I told him no, that I wasn't a journalist, and then everything he told me would be completely off the record. I also made it clear that I simply wanted to reassure myself that whatever I'd witnessed wasn't the result of some hideous case of kidnapping, as I didn't want my lack of action to plague me for the rest of my life.

And that's when he gave me the respect enough to admit that there really was a family living, out near Cloud Peak, and that yes, the family tree had indeed included some questionable choices of mate. However, there was no evidence that the little girl had been kidnapped. At least there had been no missing persons reports that would suggest that was the case. Instead, Buffalo's police department, as well as those in other towns around Cloud Peak, had all come to a general consensus. It was common knowledge among certain folk that there was a family living up near Cloud Peak, and there had been for generations. The region was only declared a wilderness area in 1984, and records showed that the authorities had offered the family a large monetary sum to vacate

the property. The offerer received no reply. The chief of police then told me that a handful of cops and low-level politicians then paid the family a visit, hoping to personally persuade them to leave their land. The only details of this visit are a vague report of a refusal. and after that, there's no mention of the family in any of Johnson County's official records. Instead, the truth of their continued existence evolved into a sort of urban legend, and encounters with the family got so rare that they're now dated by decade, and despite how unusual and unsettling they could be, they didn't cause any trouble, so folks just left them alone.

As for the girl, it was the opinion of regional law enforcement that she was something of a genetic miracle. Somehow, some way, the family's genetic stagnation had resolved itself, resulting in an angelic little girl with hair as dark as coal dust. No one knew how, and no one knew why. But until anyone could prove otherwise, the girl was just part of the family, just as her yapping man-child of a brother or her monster of a father. And that was the official story. And when it came to me questioning it, the chief of police just didn't want to. know. The last thing he wanted was some East Coast city boy prodding at old wounds, and he made that politely but perfectly clear to me before we amicably ended the call. I called Jake immediately,

and we talked for hours and hours, arguing back and forth, taking turns to play the devil's advocate to each other's hair-brained ideas. I'm not claiming that we're ultra- astute investigative journalists or whatever. And at no point did we agree on how and why that little girl came to be there. But this is the theory that haunts me some nights, when the podcasts aren't enough to keep the bed dread at bay. I think deep in my heart of hearts that Buffalo's chief of police knows darn well that that little girl was taken.

I think every other cop in the area knows it too, but keeping it a secret served some grander purpose. The man that girl called Daddy was always going to snatch someone, specifically someone female in order to inject his family tree with some fresh blood. Now that female could have been a relative of any of those police officers, or anyone else in the surrounding towns, for that matter. So, to prevent that, I think someone facilitated the trafficking of a child to that family. As me and Jake discussed, there's no way in God's Green Earth that any state adoption agency

would allow custody of a child to those people. So to prevent them from just taking someone, arrangements had to have been made. Granted, I have absolutely no way of proving my claims, and like the chief of police told me, there might well be an innocent explanation for the whole thing. But at this stage, I honestly think it would be remiss of me to not dig a little deeper. I plan to return to Cloud Peak to find out what's become of that little girl, if she's still there.

Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to her, find out if she has any memories of a time before. I have plans to write a book about my experience, along with what I find out there. Maybe this will serve as a kind of first draft. Who knows? I'm excited about it. I won't lie, but I'm scared too.

Part of me thinks that if I actually find my way back to that cabin in the woods, I'll never be seen alive again. It's said everything happens for a reason, but maybe everything happens for a rhes. Take noise-canceling headphones. Do they block hearing to heightened taste? Hmm. That sound seems to show.

Everything happens for a Reese's. Hey, sweetie. Your mother showed me this Carvana thing for selling the car. I'm going to give it a try. Wish me luck. Me again, I put in the license plate. It gave me an offer. Unbelievable.

Okay, I accepted the offer. They're picking it up Tuesday from the driveway. I haven't even left my chair. It's done. The car is gone. I'm holding a check. Anyway, Carvana, give it a whirl. Love you. So good, you'll want to leave a voicemail about it.

Sell your car today on... Carvana. Pick up fees may apply. Back in the day, I used to work for the National Trust up in Scotland, and it was a truly lonely job. Most of my time was spent either driving long distances or walking around the desolate highlands in dire weather conditions. At work, I had the luxury of driving around in a big four-by-four,

but when I was off duty, I had to rely on my own shabby car, a Nissan Micro that was far from reliable. One Saturday, I had a special plan to drive back to England for my mom's birthday. My boyfriend and I had put a lot of effort into organizing a surprise party for her, and I was brimming with excitement. However, my confidence in my little Nissan Micro's ability to get me there without any issues was practically non-existent. As I drove through the desolate highlands, in the middle of nowhere, my car's engine started making ominous noises.

Panicking, I pulled over to the side of the road, but couldn't discern what was wrong. I hoped I could limp the car to a nearby garage, even if it meant being a little late. However, as I tried to restart the engine, it refused to come to life, no matter how hard I tried or the tricks I attempted. In those days, there were no quick app-based solutions to summon help, and mobile reception was spotty at best. Breaking down in the middle of nowhere was a significant ordeal. I kept attempting to start the engine while mentally preparing myself for the daunting prospect of walking. It was November, and the Highland winds made the idea of walking utterly grim. After resisting it for as long as I could, I reluctantly bundled up in my coat,

put on my hat and gloves, and braced myself for the freezing cold out. outside. My plan was simple. I would walk to the nearest anything in the hopes of finding a phone or someone capable of helping with my car trouble. Just as I started walking, a car suddenly appeared in the distance. The road was flanked by dense trees, and the car's sudden appearance took me by surprise. I silently prayed that the driver would stop for me, and to my relief, he did. The driver, a seemingly friendly middle-aged man with an English accent, rolled down to the driver. his window and asked if I was all right. I explained my situation and pointed to where my car was. He suggested that, depending on the damage, he might be able to get a friend to fix it inexpensively.

I felt a wave of relief and gladly accepted his offer of a lift back to my car. During the drive, we engaged in small talk, and I learned about his English background and shared stories about why we were both in Scotland. After we pulled up behind my car, he took out his mobile phone, and and started texting someone, presumably the mechanic who would come to fix my car. He explained that texting was more reliable in the Highlands due to the weak signal. I felt reassured and patiently waited, hoping for the best. Within a few minutes, his phone buzzed, and he informed me that his friend would arrive in about 20 minutes. I could handle waiting for 20 minutes, especially if it meant making it to my mom's surprise party on time. As we continued to chat, I noticed a subtle change

in the details of his story, which didn't immediately register as significant. He had initially mentioned where his business was based, but about ten to fifteen minutes later, he mentioned a different location. I didn't confront him about it, thinking it might be a simple mistake. The second red flag came when he asked if anyone was expecting me. His choice of words, expecting you, struck me as odd, and I must have given him a puzzled look. He clarified, asking if I had to be a little bit of a little bit of a little bit of a little.

any plans later. I excitedly told him about my mom's party plans and how my family was eagerly awaiting my arrival. However, instead of showing any interest or enthusiasm, he nodded and stared off into the distance, as if lost in thought. The way he had phrased the question and his subsequent disinterest in my plans left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I may not have been Sherlock Holmes, but I knew I had to take action. I asked him how long his mechanic friend would take, and after a thoughtful pause, he assured me it would only be a few more minutes. I seized the opportunity to put my plan into action. I told him I needed to retrieve some items from my car, just in case it needed a tow, or if I had to go anywhere. I slipped out of his car

and walked toward mine, pretending to search for things while keeping a vigilant eye on the road behind us. Suddenly, a white van appeared around the bend, a few hundred yards away, and pulled in behind the stranger's car. It was pristine and lacked any markings, with two individuals in the cab, not just one as I had expected. Although I was wary of acting paranoid, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The mechanic and his friend might find my behavior odd, but I didn't care. I was more afraid of walking into a potential trap. I continued my pretense of rummaging around for non-existent items in my car while keeping a close watch on the approaching van. When the van finally pulled in behind the stranger's car, I hurried back to him, making up an excuse about needing

a restroom break and promising to return shortly. Once hidden among a cluster of trees, I crouched down, trying to stay out of sight while I watched the stranger and his associates. Those moments were among the scariest I had ever experienced. My mind was racing with fear, wondering what their intentions were. I didn't move an inch until I got a good look at the two men who had arrived in the van, But as time passed, my memory started to become fuzzy. I remember most of what happened. But after I saw the man in the balaclava, my recollection becomes disjointed. I do recall running as fast as my legs could carry me,

pushing myself to run even faster, and finally stopping when I couldn't go any further. At one point, I became sick from sheer panic. Many cars passed me by before a kind driver finally pulled over to check on me. I was petrified that the first stranger and the men in the van would find me, but thankfully that didn't happen. Instead, the Good Samaritan drove me to a police station, where I gave a statement. After that, I visited a mechanic, learning that my car wouldn't be roadworthy for at least 24 hours. I secured a room in a bed and breakfast, had a late lunch, and tearfully spoke to my mom on the phone in my room. It was one of the worst days of my life.

I had let my mom down, dipped into my savings for repairs, and narrowly escaped a potentially horrifying fate. I was able to provide a detailed description of the first man in his car, but the other two men remained mysterious figures. The police did their best, but without concrete evidence of a crime, they couldn't charge anyone. The first man was questioned, but he maintained his innocence, claiming he had only tried to help a stranded woman.

Though I managed to escape, I couldn't shake the haunting thought that I might not have been the only target. There must have been other girls who weren't as fortunate, and that chilling realization still haunts me to this day. Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile, the message for everyone paying big wireless way too much. Please, for the love of everything good in this world, stop. With Mint, you can get premium wireless for just $15 a month.

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