Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 6 Scary Reddit Stories For A Dark Winter Night | Cryptid, Park Ranger, Scary Encounters, Scary Stalker

Episode Date: December 9, 2023

These are 6 Scary Reddit Stories For A Dark Winter Night | Cryptid, Park Ranger, Scary Encounters, Intruder Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►All Stories sent in on www.justcreepy.net Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:06:11 Story 2 00:14:44 Story 3 00:30:32 Story 4 00:51:46 Story 5 00:57:49 Story 6 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #redditstories #asmr #parkranger 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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Restrictions apply. Being stalked in the night is horrifying. I've read and heard enough stories over the years that I am almost desensitized to the notion of being stalked. I say that now, but I'm sure if I was being chased by some crazy man, I would probably jump out of my skin. I will say, though, that I know firsthand what it's like to be potentially staring death in the face, and that, my friends, is the most terrifying thing on the planet. It's not always the knife-wielding maniac you need to be afraid of, trust me.

Last year I decided to rent this little cottage that was practically in the middle of nowhere. I don't love people, and I hate the city, so I just wanted to get away and live in nature for a little while, listening to the trees, the wind, and the wildlife. This place was adorable, and its wilderness location was perfect. I was in the mountains, but I still had all the afternoon sun. It was as close to heaven as I've ever been. Up in these parts, it's not uncommon to see wildlife come near your cottage, like deer or even bears in some cases. A few weeks ago, a couple of bears came and actually tried to get some food out of my cottage, but they were unsuccessful. I wasn't scared. I was actually excited. I got some cute videos that I'll be able to enjoy for the rest of my life. However, one night at the cottage, things got bad.

I may have accidentally drunk a little too much, and as a result, I passed out on the recliner in the main room. Just to give you an idea of the size of this place, it had a small kitchen much like you would find in a typical apartment. Then it was just one main room with a recliner, a small chair and a table with a bed in the back. On the backside was a little bathroom with a walk-in overhead shower. In other words, two people could not live in this cottage. Because I had drunk too much, I forgot to lock the door, which wasn't a huge deal because this place was in the middle of nowhere.

It was more of a comfort thing. I like to lock the door. It doesn't matter where I am. I just like the idea of the door being locked while I'm asleep. Well, my nightmare was about to come true because I woke up to the sound of things smashing and breaking coming from the kitchen, which was where the door to the cottage was located. I thought I was being punished for the one time in my life that I didn't lock the door,

and just my luck that I would have an intruder in the middle of nowhere. I grabbed my pocket knife and snucked to the doorway. Let me tell you I wish it was an intruder, but let me rephrase that. I wish it was a human intruder. In the kitchen, going nuts, digging through the tree, and the food that I had in the fridge was a fully grown mountain lion. Its tail was whipping back and forth, and it was making this horrible guttural growling noise. I didn't know if it was a territorial display or if this thing was ready to rip my face off. Either way, I didn't want

to take that chance. I jumped back on the other side of the wall and tried to figure out how I was going to escape this situation. In the little bathroom, there was a small window that I was sure I could climb out of, but I was too scared to make any noises for fear that this giant cat would hear me. The more the mountain lion growled, the more scared I became. Finally, I made a run for the bathroom. The cat heard me. You want to hear something scary? YouTube the sound of a mountain lion growling. Now, imagine that just a few feet away from you. It was one of the worst things I've ever heard. As I ran to the bathroom, I slid the door shut, and I heard the mountain lion jump into the main room. Of course the bathroom didn't have a real door.

It just had one of those sliding doors. I was holding it as tightly as I could, trying to think of a way out of this predicament. While I was holding the door, the mountain lion started to ram its head or something into the door. I was screaming, which I'm sure was making the cat even more tense. For once, the small bathroom came in handy. I was able to hold the door shut with one hand

and reach across to open the window. I didn't care about the deposit, so I kicked out the screen, and in one fell swoop, I dove out the window. As soon as I let go of the door, the mountain lion was able to open it. All I remember seeing was this vicious-looking head, growling as I tried to jump out the window, but it couldn't or didn't. And I ran to my car, which was thankfully unlocked, and got in the car and locked the doors. I didn't have my keys, so I couldn't drive anywhere, but at least I could lock the doors. I did actually eventually see the mountain lion come out of the cottage about an hour later and walk around the car for a while.

That scary cat continued to make these low, guttural sounds and even bared its teeth at times. At around dawn, the mountain lion finally retreated somewhere and was gone for a while. Before I left the car, I rushed into the cottage and the place was destroyed. I grabbed my keys and my phone and drove into town. I called the property owner and the guy somehow laughed. I had just had the worst night of my life with an animal that I thought was going to rip my throat open, and this guy was laughing and basically just telling me, yep, that can happen around here.

In case you couldn't tell, I left that day, and yeah, I had to pay for the damages because you've got to love those contracts. But needless to say, nature is no joke. That was undoubtedly the worst experience of my life. And I wouldn't wish that on anyone, except maybe that property owner. I'm just kidding, but I've since found a boyfriend. And I've got to be honest, I don't love being alone anymore. Maybe I'm getting older.

Maybe this experience rocked me to my core. The only thing I can say for absolute certainty now is that I am most definitely a dog person. I remember that fateful day when I decided to venture into the Picos de Europa National Park. The allure of its lush forests, crystal clear lakes, and majestic snow-capped mountains had always captivated me.

despite the ominous warnings that accompanied every visitor's arrival. This rugged northern Spanish region of Cantabria held a beauty that was as enchanting as it was treacherous, especially during the unforgiving winter months. Winter here had a cruel streak, freak snowstorms would descend upon the park, turning the temperate landscape into a frigid nightmare. The mercury would plummet into the mid-30s, and each winter brought a somber tally of fatalities and missing persons. It was a place where nature could be as ruthless as it was breathtaking.

Yet, the perils of the Picos de Europa extended beyond just the weather. The park was home to the Cantabrian brown bears, whose population had thrived following the ban on their hunting in the early 70s. These bears were not known for aggression towards humans, but sharing their habitat were wolves and wild boars, creatures that could become deadly threats to anyone in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cantabria wasn't just famous for its wild natural beauty. It was also the backdrop for a decades-long mystery that had recently seen a surprising resolution, though it had raised more

questions than it answered. In 1945, a man named Eloy Tilio Perez worked as a forest ranger in the Picos de Europa National Park. He also held the unique position of being the elected mayor of the nearby town of Sures, renowned for its Casso de Cabrales, a type of blue cheese matured in the limestone caves dotting the surrounding mountains. Eloy's life was far from peaceful or happy. The scars of the Spanish Civil War, 1936 through 1939, still ran deep. General Franco had emerged as the victor, imposing his fascist rule over the nation. Many Republicans, including some of Eloy's friends and relatives, sought refuge in the remote

wilderness areas like the Picos de Europa, Eloy, Stradling the line between loyalty to his fascist overlords and his ties to these resistance fighters walked a treacherous path. He knew that betraying his country or his friends would spell his doom. However, tensions escalated as the global political landscape shifted. After World War II, Stalin's declaration of continued global revolution breathed new life into Marxist insurgents, including those in the Picos de Europa. They ambushed the Spanish Civil Guard with increasing frequency. and even sought to produce explosive materials, putting Surres at risk.

To avert a wider conflict that could endanger his town, Eloy arranged a secret meeting with an old friend. Juan Fernandez Ayala, a prominent leader among the resistance fighters. On a tense Sunday in April 1945, deep in the wilds of the Picos de Europa, Eloy met Juan and his comrades at an abandoned villa, reclaimed by nature. As Eloy pleaded for restraint and an end to the violence, They heard footsteps approaching. Eloy had confided in a fellow park ranger about the meeting,

a man he trusted, but that trust was misplaced. That ranger had betrayed Eloy to the Spanish Civil Guard. The footsteps outside belonged to a heavily armed troop of civil guards, intent on slaughtering those at the meeting. However, the resistance fighters, familiar with their chosen meeting place, staged a near-perfect ambush. They swiftly dispatched two of the fascists, and forced the rest into a hasty retreat.

Before fleeing themselves, they looted the bodies of their fallen enemies. Eloy ran back to sewers, and the victorious guerrillas vanished into the mountains, hiding in a network of secret encampments. Eloy awaited the inevitable knock on his door, knowing that someone would come for him. When that knock finally came,

it was Juan who stood at the doorstep. Come with me, Juan said, and Eloy followed his old friend into a web of sea, secrets in danger. The aftermath of the firefight revealed a startling find. Among the loot from the civil guards, there was a note that implicated Eloy's fellow park ranger, Alfonso Martinez, as the informant. Although Alfonso had not named Eloy in his report to the police, the small number of park rangers in the Picos de Europa made it clear who the primary source was. Eloy's life took a dark turn on April 24, 1945, when he was taken up into the mountains to a top

secret guerrilla headquarters. Intense interrogations followed, and the truth of what happened next remains shrouded in speculation. Some accounts suggest that Eloy was executed by a single gunshot. Others claim that Juan led him to believe he was forgiven for his transgressions before that fatal shot rang out. In the years that followed, Eloy's relatives searched tirelessly for his body, but it was never found. It seemed he had vanished without a trace. Then, In the summer of 2018, a team of professional cavers embarked on a mission to explore the labyrinthine underground passages of the Picos de Europa. Their goal was to find the remains of those who had disappeared during the Spanish Civil War and its aftermath. Descending almost 200 meters

below the Earth's surface, into the Tor de Topor Cave, they embarked on a painstaking search for any trace of human remains. Their efforts were soon rewarded when they discovered bones buried in mud and debris. DNA analysis confirmed that these were the remains of Eloy Chilio Perez. News of the discovery reached Eloy's daughter Mercedes, who made the arduous journey to her father's final resting place, camping near the cave entrance as investigators continued their work. The cause of Eloy's death was determined to be a gunshot wound from a 9mm astra 400 handgun, the same type of pistol found in Juan's possession when he met his own violent end in 1957. But there was another unsettling discovery during the investigation.

Alongside Eloy's remains, the cavers found the scattered bones of a young girl, aged 10 to 14, who had perished between five and 15 years after Eloy. The mystery deepened as investigators struggled to determine her identity and the circumstances of her death. Dr. Fernando Cullia, a renowned forensic anthropologist, joined the investigation. Her analysis suggested that the girl had not come from a low-income rural family, as previously thought, but likely hailed from the Cantabrian coast. Despite efforts to reconstruct her appearance and appeal for information, her identity remained elusive. As investigators delve deeper into the case,

they uncovered a hidden community of people who had disappeared into the remote mountains, living off the grid to escape the clutches of Franco's regime. These individuals, had built their own clandestine lives, making any involvement with outside authorities unthinkable. The circumstances surrounding the girl's death remained enigmatic. Only a portion of her skeleton showed signs of high-energy impact damage, raising questions about the true cause of her demise. Some believed her death was entirely accidental, resulting from a fall into the cave. Others speculated that she had been murdered and carefully placed in the cave. As of June 12, 2022, the identity of the Tor de Topor-Jandot remains a mystery.

Spanish authorities continue to search for answers, but the chances of resolving this cold case are slim. Her DNA has been uploaded to the Phoenix database, a project aimed at solving such mysteries. Eloy Chilio Perez was finally laid to rest in the ancient cemetery of Sures, his daughter, Mercedes, ensuring that he was reunited with his remains after so many years. The Tor de Topor Jean-Doh was buried beside. him, as they had spent decades together in the dark depths of the cave, and she too deserved

a final resting place. Their stories, once shrouded in mystery, were now entwined in the annals of the Picos de Europa, a place as beautiful as it was haunting. 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 the crumudgeonly 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.

Have no fear. Chosen Foods is here to defend your favorite foods from the forces of seedy oils and sketchy ingredients, with cooking oils, salad dressings and mayo, all powered by the good fats from 100% pure avocado oil and simple delicious ingredients. Chosen Foods. The night was unusually... still in the state park, the kind of stillness that makes your skin crawl, the kind that makes you think the woods are holding their breath. I've patrolled these grounds for 15 years, but that night,

something was different. There was a tension in the air, a whisper among the trees that I couldn't quite make out. I'm no stranger to the night shift, but this felt like walking into a different world, a world that wasn't quite right. As I made my way through the familiar trails, checking the campsites, my flashlight was the only thing piercing the darkness. I've seen my share of wildlife and campers breaking rules, but nothing could have prepared me for what I stumbled upon that night. In a small clearing, the beam of my light fell upon the remains of a bear,

not just any bear, but one that looked like it had gone through a war. It was mauled, torn apart by something. something bigger, something more ferocious. The sight sent a chill down my spine. I crouched down beside the bear, examining the scene. This wasn't the work of another bear or a pack of wolves, no, the ferocity of the attack, the sheer power it must have taken to do this. It was something else, something I couldn't explain. I pulled out my camera documenting the scene. My hands were steady, trained by years of experience, but my mind was racing. A part of me wanted to radio this in, call for backup. But another part, the part that's seen things in these woods that don't make

it to the official reports, told me to wait. That's when I saw it, a shadow moving in the trees. At first I thought it was a deer, maybe a buck drawn by the scent of blood. But as I focused, I realized this was no deer. The figure that emerged from the shadows was something of nightmares. It stood on two legs like a man, but its face, oh God, its face was that of a deer. but not a peaceful gentle dear this one had eyes that glowed red in the dark and teeth that seemed too sharp too vicious for any creature i knew i stood frozen my heart pounding in my chest fear like i'd never known washed over me this thing whatever it was wasn't natural it wasn't right and it was looking right at me we stood there locked in a moment that felt like an eternity then with a growl that sounded like it came from the depths of hell itself it lunged I don't know how I moved, how I managed to dodge it. My training, my instincts, they all kicked in.

I ran, not looking back, not daring to. I could hear it behind me, its heavy footsteps, its labored breathing. But as quickly as it had attacked, it vanished. I didn't stop running until I reached my truck, my safe haven in these woods. Sitting there, with the engine running and the creature nowhere in sight, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was still watching me, that it had let me go, but why? What was it? My mind raced with questions, but I knew one thing for sure, the park, these woods, they were hiding something, and I needed to find out what. The days following

the encounter were like walking through a fog. I kept telling myself it was just a bear, a sick one maybe, distorted by the shadows and my fear. But deep down, I knew it was a lie. I knew what I saw, and it wasn't anything that belonged in the next. natural world. I could still feel its hot breath, see those glowing red eyes when I closed mine. Sleep became a stranger, and the woods that had been my refuge for 15 years now felt like a prison. I kept to my routine, patrolling the park, but every rustle in the underbrush, every snapping twig, sent a jolt of fear through me. I was a park ranger, trained to protect these lands and the people who came to enjoy them. But how do you protect against something that shouldn't exist?

Then it happened again. I was walking a familiar trail, the sun just dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows among the trees. That's when I heard it, a low growl, barely audible over the rustling leaves. My heart stopped. I turned slowly, flashlight trembling in my hand. There it was, standing at the edge of the clearing, the creature from that night, its eyes burning holes in the twilight.

This wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't a trick of the light. It was real, and it was here. I don't know what drove me to stand my ground. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was defiance, or maybe I just knew there was nowhere to run. We stared at each other, predator and prey, caught in a deadly dance. Then with a speed that defied its size, it charged.

I dove to the side, feeling its claws graze my jacket. I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding, and ran. I could hear it behind me, its heavy breathing, its thunderous steps. I pushed myself harder than I ever had, branches whipping my face, roots threatening to trip me. I don't know how, but I made it back to my truck. The creature didn't follow me into the open, but that didn't bring any relief. It was still out there, watching, waiting. I sat in my truck, breathing hard, trying to make sense of it all. But there was no sense to be made. I was dealing with something beyond my understanding, something ancient and

terrifying. The next few days were a blur. I reported the mawling, but not the creature. Who would believe me. I was a respected ranger, not some tabloid sensationalist, but keeping it to myself only made it worse. The isolation, the constant looking over my shoulder, it was taking its toll. I started researching, digging through old records, anything that might tell me what I was dealing with. That's when I found it, a newspaper clipping from the 1950s, loggers gone missing, strange sightings in the woods. The descriptions matched what I saw. I wasn't alone. This thing. This thing. The same. The had been here before, and now it was back. But why? What did it want? And most importantly, how could I stop it? These questions haunted me day and night. I knew I couldn't let it go.

I had to find answers, not just for my peace of mind, but for the safety of everyone who called this park home. The creature had shown me mercy twice. I couldn't count on a third. I've always believed that the past holds the keys to understanding the present. So in the wake of my terrifying encounters, I turned to the park's archives. The musty smell of old paper and forgotten stories was a welcome change from the oppressive tension of the woods. I scoured through old reports, maps, and newspaper clippings, searching for any clue that might shed light on the creature haunting my every waking moment. The breakthrough came with a brittle newspaper article from the 1950s. It told a chilling tale of a group of loggers who had disappeared in these very woods. The article was vague,

tinged with the skepticism of the time, but one detail caught my eye, reports of strange creatures seen in the area shortly before the loggers vanished. The description was eerily similar to the creature I had encountered, a grotesque blend of man and deer, with unnaturally glowing eyes. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I read. This wasn't just some isolated incident, some fluke of nature. This creature, or creatures like it, had been here before. It was a part of this park's history, a dark, hidden chapter that had somehow been forgotten, or perhaps conveniently ignored. The more I dug, the more I found, hushed up reports of missing hikers, strange tracks that no one could identify, sightings of bizarre creatures by campers who were quickly dismissed as having

overactive imaginations. It was like piecing together a puzzle, each discovery revealing a little more of the horrifying picture. I realized then that this creature wasn't just some anomaly, it was a part of this park, as much as the trees and the rivers, and like those natural elements, it had its secrets, its ways of hiding from the prying eyes of the modern world. But unlike the trees and the rivers, it was dangerous, a threat that couldn't be ignored. I spent sleepless nights pouring over every scrap of information I could find, trying to understand what this creature was, where it came from, and why it was here. My colleagues started to notice the change in me. I brushed off their concerns, saying it was just the stress of the job. But I knew it was more than that. I was

obsessed, consumed by the need to uncover the truth. Despite the mounting evidence, I still struggled with doubt. Was I really on to something here? Or was I just seeing patterns where there were none? Was this just my way of coping with the trauma of the attacks? These questions plagued me, but I couldn't stop. I had to know. As the pieces of the puzzle slowly came together, I realized that I needed to go back to where it all started, the clearing where I had first seen the creature. I needed to face my fears, to confront the unknown. I had no illusions about the danger. I knew that I was risking my life, but the need for answers was too strong. I couldn't turn back now. Armed with a camera and a flashlight I set out for the clearing one more time. I didn't know what I would find,

but I was determined to uncover the truth, no matter what it took. The park had always been my home, but now it felt like I was venturing into the heart of darkness. The decision to return to that clearing was like signing my own death warrant. I knew it, felt it in my bones, but I couldn't turn away. The park, once my sanctuary, had become a labyrinth of shadows and secrets, with that creature lurking just beyond the reach of my flashlight. As the sun went down, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, I found myself walking the familiar path back to where my nightmare

had begun. The air was thick with the scent of pine and impending rain, a smell I'd always associated with peace, now twisted into a harbinger of something sinister. I reached the clearing, the scene eerily untouched since that night. The bear's remains were gone, likely scavenged by other predators, but the memory of its mangled body was etched in my mind. I scanned the area, camera in hand, half expecting the creature to leap out from the shadows, but there was only silence, the kind that presses down on your eardrums. With each step I venture deeper into the woods, guided by a mix of dread and determination. That's when I stumbled upon it, a hidden cave, tucked away behind a large boulder. It was as if the earth itself had tried to conceal it,

and with good reason, the stench hit me first, a gut-wrenching mix of decay and damp earth. my flashlight beam revealed the horrors within bones scattered across the cave floor some unmistakably human the sight sent a shiver down my spine a silent scream echoing in my skull this wasn't just a den it was a graveyard my mind screamed to turn and run but my feet moved forward as if drawn by a force beyond my control the air grew colder the darkness thicker i could hear something in the depths of the cave a soft rhythmic breathing that seemed to sink with my own. I should have left then, should have heated the primal part of my brain screaming danger, but I was a park ranger, trained to face the wilderness. Only this was no ordinary wilderness. This was something ancient, something malevolent. As I crept further in, a sudden movement caught my attention. Something shifted in the darkness, a shadow among shadows.

I barely had time to react when something grabbed my ankle. I hit the ground hard, my flashlight tumbling away, casting erratic shadows across the cave walls. Panic surged through me as I felt whatever had hold of me dragging me deeper into the cave. I kicked and thrashed, fighting against the unseen force. By some miracle I broke free, scrambling back toward the entrance, not daring to look back. As I burst out of the cave, the night air felt like a slap across my face. I didn't stop running until I was clear of the woods, my lungs burning, my mind reeling. I had come seeking answers, but all I found were more questions, more nightmares. I drove away from that place, away from the park I had once loved. The creature, the cave, the bones, they were a mystery I no longer

wanted to solve. I had seen enough, knew enough to understand that some things are better left in the shadows. The park was no longer my home. It was a hunting ground, and I was no longer the hunter, but the hunted. I sat at my kitchen table, the resignation letter in front of me, the pen feeling like a thousand pounds in my hand. The words were there, clear and final, yet it felt like signing it was admitting defeat, admitting that the woods, my woods, had beaten me. But after what I had seen, what I had experienced, staying was no longer an option. The park ranger's badge, once worn with pride, now felt like a target on my chest. The days following my escape from the cave were a blur of sleepless nights and haunted days. Every shadow

seemed to hide a danger, every noise, a threat. I had seen the darkness that lurked in the heart of the park, a darkness that no amount of sunlight could dispel. The creature, with its glowing red eyes and twisted form, was more than just a physical being. It was a manifestation of fear, a living nightmare that had etched itself into my soul. I thought about the bones in the cave, the stories of the missing loggers, the unexplained disappearances over the years. It all pointed to a truth too terrifying to accept that the creature was real, that it had been here all along, praying on the unsuspecting, and I had been blind to it, lost in my own naive belief that the park was a safe haven, a place of natural beauty and peace. The realization was a bitter

pill to swallow. I had dedicated 15 years of my life to protecting this place, to ensuring its safety for future generations. But how do you protect people from a monster of legend? How do you fight against a horror that defies explanation. As I finally signed the letter, a sense of relief washed over me, followed quickly by a wave of sorrow. I was leaving behind a part of myself, a part that had been forged in the wild beauty of the park, but I was also leaving behind the fear, the nightmares, the constant looking over my shoulder. I handed in my resignation the next day, avoiding the questions and concerned looks from my colleagues. They didn't need to know the truth, they wouldn't believe it anyway. It was better to leave them in ignorance, to let them think I was

just burned out in need of a new start. As I drove away from the park for the last time, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. It was as if the creature, the forest itself, was saying goodbye, or perhaps issuing a warning. I knew I would never return, that I would carry the memories of what I had seen with me for the rest of my life. The open road stretched out before me, leading to a future unbound by the shadows of the past. But in the rearview mirror, the park remained, a dark silhouette against the setting sun. It was a part of me, a chapter of my life that was closed but never truly forgotten.

The creature, whatever it was, remained a mystery, a whisper in the woods that would haunt my dreams for years to come. But one thing was certain, I had survived. I had faced the darkness and lived to tell the tale. and in that there was a small measure of victory, a flicker of light in the overwhelming darkness. 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. Kayak.

Got that right. Ever since I was a little girl, all I ever wanted to do was help people. My mom used to say that even when I was a kid, I'd be playing nurse with my dolls. Then, as I grew into my teens, I was obsessed with General Hospital and would binge watch Scrubs episodes back when DVD box sets were a thing. During my last two years of high school, some of my friends found themselves torn between two or three options for college courses. Not me.

My answer was reflexive every time I was asked, nursing. I wanted to go into nursing. After getting my SAT results, I obtained all the prerequisite qualifications, chose a handful of schools and programs, and set about applying. Once I was in, I just had to keep myself financially afloat because I only had access to limited financial aid. I had to find myself a part-time job, and after a week or two of scouring Craigslist, among other places, I managed to find an almost perfect vacancy. I'd rather not docks the place that I ended up working at, so I won't use its actual name, but the place served as a kind of community center for young adults with learning difficulties. We didn't provide intensive or emergency care to people

with physical disabilities, and those with more complex cases were referred to full-time care centers. But when it came to people who were too functional to simply sit around at home, but not functional enough to hold down a job, it was up to us to provide them with a place that they could visit that would both nurture and educate them. Honestly, it was the kind of place that I would have been only too happy to volunteer at if I wasn't being paid. But the flexible part-time scheduling made it ideal on so many levels. It would look great on my resume, and it made sense for them to hire someone with nursing aspirations, as I'd no doubt bring the same level of care to the community center. Thankfully, the community center's management team agreed with that assessment,

and when they gave me the call to offer me the job, I was nothing less than ecstatic. Obviously, my first couple of days on the job were spent familiarizing myself with both the layout of the community center, as well as the center's various members. Some visited on a daily basis, staying from early in the morning to late in the afternoon, whereas others stopped by every so often, maybe a couple of days a week, basically, whenever their parents needed someone to watch them. Some members just hung out, played pool or watch TV, but there were others who needed more than just light entertainment to keep them happy and occupied. I was kind of surprised at first when I saw a kid named Todd sweeping the parking lot along with a member of the care team.

I was a little concerned that he was being roped into working for free, but I soon realized that Todd just liked helping out. It made him feel useful, like he was part of the team, and it meant the world to him to see us smile and say things like, great job, buddy, and all that. Once that was understood, well, I thought it was just about the sweetest thing ever, and it assuaged any concerns I had about the members helping out with our work. One of the other members who used to help out with the day-to-day running of the place was a guy I'll just call Jake. Jake was definitely one of the more functional of the guys who stopped by the center, and he only did so maybe twice or three times a week, weekends included. Being in his late 20s, he was a little older than some of the other kids

who were mostly high school to college age, but he used to visit a lot more during his younger years. By the time I got the job, he liked to stop by after lunch to help out where he could, and he often stayed until we closed up before walking or sometimes jogging all the way home again. I was surprised when I first heard that he walked or ran like three miles to and from the the center every time he wanted to visit, but there was no denying it was good exercise, as Jake himself would tell you. That's the thing about Jake. You could barely tell that he had learning difficulties. You could be having a perfectly normal conversation with him, and then out of nowhere, he'd ask you a question totally out of left field. Sometimes you'd remember how he came to know the center

so well in the first place. For example, we were unloading some egg pallets from a van, just making small talk, when he suddenly asked me, are all the eggs from chickens? When I said, sure, he replied, how do you know that? I had to explain to him that I didn't actually know for certain that they were all chicken eggs, but that the store operated on a kind of trust system, which would allow me to get my money back for anything that wasn't a chicken egg. Jake looked puzzled for a second, then just sort of nodded before carrying on unloading the pallets. I got the impression that Jake still didn't understand, but little misunderstandings like that were things he'd learned to live with. Everyone loved Jake. They liked him because he was helpful. They liked him because he was thoughtful,

and they liked him because he was one of the few members who was actually able to articulate how grateful he was for both the center and its staff. Through no fault of their own, most members would only say things like a simple thank you or, I love you guys, which was amazing, and I appreciated every kind word I got, but Jake was really able to just flesh out how he felt about us. I saw a co-worker dash into the staff break room before bursting into tears because Jake had said something to her like, I don't know what I'd do without this place sometimes.

You guys feel like part of my family. She wasn't a particularly over-emotional person, but I guess what he said that day hit her right in the fields, and she didn't want him to confuse her happy tears with sad tears. Jake was popular for other reasons, too. He often brought things from home. Sometimes it was a fresh tray of cookies. Sometimes it was a bag of sub sandwiches. Other times it was a brand new PlayStation for the playroom or a portable heater when the office got really cold in the wintertime. Jake didn't work, not as far as I knew

anyway. So I figured that he was either independently wealthy somehow, or that he had rich parents that didn't mind dropping a few hundred dollars on a new gaming system. I know for a fact that the portable heater wasn't cheap because Jake didn't think to just take the price tag off the box before he gave it to us. I can guarantee people would have still liked Jake had he not been so generous, but we didn't exactly turn his gifts down either. We were very underfunded, and without his or his family's help, things would have definitely been much tougher around the center. But then that's why I felt so conflicted when, after hearing all these amazing reports of Jake, I suddenly had a very negative experience with him.

You see, one evening we were in the process of closing up the center, and I was finishing off a count in our food storage that had been interrupted earlier in the day. I knew Jake was around the center, so I wasn't startled when he suddenly walked into the storage room at the rear of the kitchen, but what I was startled by is the question he asked me. Do you have a boyfriend? I didn't have a boyfriend. Not at the time, but the question caught me so off guard that I told Jake. that yes, I did have a boyfriend.

I didn't want to give him any ideas if I said no, so I just kind of instinctively lied. Jake then asked me what it was like having a boyfriend, I mean so I told him it was nice and that I loved my boyfriend very much. Jake then told me that he wished he had a girlfriend and that he never had one and would like to feel that same kind of nice, as he put it.

It seemed like it was another one of those moments with Jake where he said something so sweet that you thought it might break your heart. But then suddenly, the conversation took a drastic and deeply unexpected turn. Jake paused for a second after saying that kind of nice thing, and then turned to me again, before asking something that had my jaw almost hitting the floor. He asked me if my boyfriend and I performed a very disgusting kind of act on each other. Before you go thinking I'm some ultra-Christian who thinks anything beyond hand-holding is extramarital

evilness. The thing he asked about was very extreme, the kind of thing I'd drop a date like a live grenade over if they ever asked me to do it with them. I had to remind myself who would actually ask the question, and that even though Jake had this really creepy grin after asking it, I tried to just take a sort of professional tone before responding. I told him his question was not appropriate for nice conversation and explained why it would be considered rude. I also explained that the thing he referred to was not something that regular couples would consider normal or romantic. Jake apologized, kind of in the same way that he did when he got other stuff wrong, but there was something different about this one. He said that he was sorry,

but his expression kind of said otherwise. The whole thing just left a really bad taste in my mouth. So the next day, I just brought it up to my boss. She said she'd have to handle it in the exact same way, and then I was right to report it as soon as I was able. It wasn't the first time that the the mostly male visitors to the center had made an inappropriate comment to its mostly female staff, but that each time education had been the remedy, not shaming or exclusion, and I agreed wholeheartedly that most transgressions like that were nothing but innocent mistakes. But like I had already mentioned, there was the issue of Jake's expression and how I didn't think that he was all that sorry. I didn't bring that up, not because it wasn't relevant, but because it didn't feel like it served a purpose.

If Jake said anything else that crossed a line, I could just escalate my complaint, knowing my boss had my back. With that in mind, I didn't mention it to anyone else. I didn't want to color their opinions of Jake. And since it appeared that he'd learned his lesson regarding asking me about inappropriate topics, I decided to just simply let it go, rather than go around talking all bad about him. Things went on just fine like that for a while, with Jake being his usual cheerful self. at least until one day when everything changed suddenly and irreversibly. One night, a co-worker and I were closing up the center for the night, and Jake was off helping them with whatever they were dealing with.

I was in the records room, which was this fairly small walk-in closet that was incredibly overstuffed with all kinds of files that had been piled onto old dusty shelves, when who should walk in but Jake himself? This was a few years before all the records were transferred over to the digital system, them, and seeing as everything inside was sort of deemed sensitive information, we used to keep it locked at all times. To get inside, I had to get my keys out to unlock the door. But when I did, I just left them in the lock.

And that turned out to be a huge mistake. When Jake walked into the room, I noticed that he had my keys in his hand. I asked him to hand them over, but he just ignored me while flashing that creepily familiar grin. Then when I asked him a second time, he turned, slid the key into the door. then locked it with a loud click. You know, people sometimes say things like, I felt my blood run cold, or my veins turned to ice

whenever something really creepy happens to them. I didn't know what they meant until that moment, but it's true. I got chills seeing Jake lock that door, not just because he'd locked both of us inside, but because he knew what he was doing. I asked him a third time to give me my keys, and during that,

he tossed them up onto the box of files on a top shelf. then took a few steps toward me. I kept saying, This isn't funny, Jake. Give me my keys and get out. But he didn't listen. He just kept following me around the records room as I tried and failed to keep away from him.

He was much bigger than me, much faster. All it took was one attempt to get my keys, and he was on me. I don't even want to say what he tried to do to me, but let's just say that it was the one thing that every woman praise never happens to them. But I didn't just let him do it. I fought back,

and when I did he thankfully stopped trying. But then, instead of just unlocking the door and accepting the rejection, Jake began to punch me, kick me, and stomp on me while I fell on the ground. I tried to crawl away, but every attempt just made it easier for him to kick me in the head, or in the ribs, or other more vulnerable places on my body, and then suddenly it just stopped. I heard the jingling of the keys. I heard them pushed into the lock,

and then by the time I rolled over to look, Jake was gone, and the door was wide open. What happened next feels like it happened to another person, or like it was a dream I had. I think a combination of adrenaline, all the kicks and punches to my head, and just how unexpected the attack had been, put me into a kind of disassociative state. When I think about it, it's like someone else got up and limped their way to the phone at the center's reception area to call 911. I just remember feeling so calm. at a time when I'd have expected myself to be completely hysterical. I know now that that was just a way of delaying the trauma,

a function now, but suffer later kind of thing. I was still on the phone with 911 when my co-worker walked into the reception area and noticed me. Obviously I knew I was hurt pretty bad, but I couldn't see myself, you know? So when my co-worker looked at me and literally gasped with horror, at all the blood and torn clothing, that's the first time I actually started to really worry how bad things truly were. I didn't need the ambulance in the end because my co-worker drove me straight to the hospital.

She was like my guardian angel and stayed with me while I was checked over and then gave me a ride back to my dorm after we spoke to two cops who showed up to the hospital. I was a mess on that ride back to my dorm and I spent maybe five or ten minutes just crying into my co-worker's shoulder after we pulled into the parking lot. The nurses had cleaned me up pretty good, but there was some swelling, and I was for sure going to have one or two black eyes. But aside from that, nothing was broken. It was probably the worst experience of my life up until that point. But everyone seemed supportive, and the cops were promising to investigate.

But when I looked back on it, there was one little clue that everything wasn't going to turn out okay. And that's when my co-worker asked me what happened. She asked me the first time on the way to the hospital, and when I took her to the hospital, and when I told her it was Jake who attacked me, she was shocked, but not to the point of disbelief. I'll be the first to say that of all the men who visited the center, Jake was the last person I ever expected to turn violent or lash out. But the fact remained that he had. But then when I was sitting in her car in the parking lot of my dorm,

and my co-worker asked me a second time what had happened back in the records room, I could see her beginning to doubt my version of events, or rather not doubt me in the sense that she thought I was like. lying. She was just incapable of imagining Jake being capable of anything so horrifying. I should have known that she wouldn't be the only one. And at that time, I totally understood why she'd be so stunned to the point of disbelief. It was an unbelievable story. But like a surprising amount of unbelievable stories, every word was the God honest truth. I had no idea how the doubt would spread and grow until it divided a whole community

and forced me out of a job that I'd grown to love. The first part came when I got a call from my boss, saying that I'd been suspended without pay until the cop's investigation had concluded. Basically, Jake was flat out denying any wrongdoing, claiming total ignorance, and saying that he wasn't even at the center on the day that I was attacked.

Thanks to the center's security cameras, that was a claim we could easily prove false. But then Jake's parents had totally, taken his word for it, citing the fact that he'd returned home at the exact time as usual. I suppose this isn't totally relevant in a way, but it's something that really creeped me out at the time and still creeps me out, actually, so I suppose I'll share it. Jake stayed way after closing that afternoon, maybe 25 to 30 minutes after he usually started his walk or run home. This meant that to get home at the so-called regular time, Jake had to have run the three miles back to his

house in a heavy jacket and probably crocs at an extended pace without stopping. He wasn't smart enough to cover it up properly, but he sure tried, meaning that he sure as hell knew what he had done was a terrible, terrible thing. The second part came when I heard that Jake had admitted to attacking me, but claimed it was after I tried to touch him. He claimed he got scared, lashed out, then didn't remember anything until he arrived back home in a panic. But I know that's not true because the cop told me that this conflicted with the initial statement made by Jake's parents who said he arrived home at the regular time while displaying no obvious signs of being upset. Basically, all the evidence proved my story and that forced Jake to admit what he'd done.

But everyone completely bought his story, after being provoked in some way, then losing control of himself. Don't get me wrong, most people sympathized with me and knew Jake's behavior was wrong and had to be dealt with in some way. But they also refused to accept that he was really at fault, and that he posed a danger to anyone else. And then came the day when one of my co-workers approached me and tried to convince me to just drop the charges. Now the long and short of it is that if I went ahead with the charges, Jake was going to be removed from the care of his parents and placed into some psychiatric facility for an undetermined period of time, if the psychologist found a serious issue.

But if he didn't respond to the treatment they'd give him, Jake could end up stuck in the system for years on end. If I dropped the charges, his parents could get him the help he needed privately, without having to be separated from him for potentially a very long time, in her opinion. And she alluded that many other people felt the same way. The right thing to do would be for me to drop the charges. And when I told her that wasn't going to happen, she called me selfish. I'd like to say that I handled the situation with a little more grace, but I didn't.

I was furious beyond furious. and for the first time in my life, I had to remove myself from a situation for fear of losing my own sense of control. I couldn't believe what had come out of her mouth, that word in particular, selfish, and it made my blood boil in a way that I can barely put into words. Looking back on it, I knew she didn't mean selfish. As in thinking of myself over Jake and his condition, she meant selfish, as in me pressing charges would sever Jake's connection with a community center, which in turn meant no more gifts,

and, as I found out later, no tax deductions for financial contributions from Jake's very wealthy parents. In the end, Jake was deemed unfit to stand trial, and since he admitted to assaulting me, he was referred to a psychiatric hospital on the other side of the state. The only caveat was that this was, according to that same cop that I told you about, Jake would probably get out of the mental health system much earlier than I'd ever be comfortable with. Attacking me was the first black mark on what had been a very clean record, and with that in mind, judges would look very kindly on him and his oh so charitable parents. With the investigation concluded, my suspension was lifted, and I was invited back to work at the community center. I turned down the offer. There was no way that I was going back there, and maybe that seemed spoiled of me because not everyone was either on the fence or on Jake's side.

my boss in particular was as good as she'd ever been. I just couldn't go back to the place that valued the family's money over my safety and the safety of other women working there. And again, that's not to say that she didn't believe Jake had lashed out. They just didn't think that he had it in him to do it again. Whereas myself and the state saw things differently. God, this seems so long and rambly by now, and I know there will be people out there who listen to this

and once again take the side of my attacker. But I don't care. This felt good to get off my chest for the first time in years, and writing it out has actually served as a sort of reminder of how I did the right thing. I completely moved on from the community center, and just sort of poured myself into my studies, then applied for nursing jobs in just about every other city and state than the one that I was in at that time. I guess other people might have kept up with Jake's treatment just to keep an eye on his release

date, but over time I've decided that I just don't want to know. I just want to move on with my life. I don't want to think about these things anymore, but I also have to accept that's just never going to happen. Sometimes I feel like a pair of tectonic plates or something. I don't really know how else to describe it. You see, every so often enough tension builds up that there needs to be release,

but aside from that, I can go years without paying it more than a glancing thought. I guess that's what I hope this post might achieve, and why I sent it in, and I guess only time will tell. People can be very weird, and sometimes their actions can affect us in ways we never even notice. This is a story that will illustrate just how strange and unsettling people's behavior can be. At the time, I was working tirelessly, saving up to buy my girlfriend an engagement ring.

We were renting a small house, which was an improvement from our previous apartment, because at least we didn't share walls with noisy neighbors. Additionally, we were both saving money to eventually buy a house of our own. My girlfriend, seeing my dedication to work, decided to volunteer for a five-day retreat with her company, which would pay her a substantial amount in overtime. This allowed me to work even more overtime at my job. I knew I would miss her during her time away, but it seemed like a great opportunity to bring in some extra cash, especially with the holidays approaching rapidly.

On Wednesday morning when I left for work, I noticed a strange smell in my car. It wasn't a bad smell, just something unusual. It reminded me of a perfume, but not the kind my girlfriend would wear. I dismissed it as some inexplicable oddity and didn't dwell on it too much. That night I had a terrible time sleeping. I convinced myself it was due to missing my girlfriend's presence, as I was accustomed to her being by my side. This marked the third consecutive night that I had to sleep a little. Throughout the night, I thought I heard faint noises coming from downstairs, but they weren't

loud or frightening enough to set off any alarms. I brushed it off, attributing it to typical house sounds or the wind. Thursday morning arrived, and I felt like I hadn't slept at all. I brewed some coffee, hoping it would help me get through the day. When I got into my car, I discovered that I had left it unlocked, which was unusual for me. I had been working long hours, and the thought of forgetting to lock the car. had crossed my mind. I dismissed it, got in, and drove to work. Once again, I caught a whiff of that perfume in my car, and this time some red flags began to rise in my mind. I couldn't even begin

to fathom what was going on. Every thought I had seemed to end with me blaming my exhaustion, or missing my girlfriend as the logical explanation. It made sense at the time. I left work that evening, and the scent of perfume in my car was unmistakable. I even had a co-worker come over and confirm that he could smell it too. He suggested it might be my girlfriend's perfume and I, wanting to believe it, went along with his explanation. Maybe I was subconsciously noticing certain smells because I missed her, I reasoned. But deep down, I knew it wasn't her perfume. As I arrived home again, that pervasive perfume scent continued to haunt me. It was more irritating than anything else at this point. Still, I couldn't shake the weirdness of it all. I decided to

take a shower and then go grab some food and drinks at a bar to unwind. After all, my girlfriend was returning the next afternoon, and it was my first day off in nearly two weeks. I was eager to relax. I returned home late on Thursday night, perhaps around midnight, and prepared to go to bed. As soon as I opened the door to the house, that familiar scent hit me again. Annoyance was beginning to outweigh my unease. I got into bed not long after, hoping that my girlfriend's return would put an end these strange occurrences. I must have dozed off for a little while because I was abruptly awakened by someone getting into bed beside me. In my half-asleep state, my mind immediately assumed it was my girlfriend. She shushed me gently, and I turned around to face her, half expecting to see her

familiar smile. She started to cuddle up to me, playing the role of the big spoon, which was unusual for her. However, I was so exhausted and relieved that she was home that I didn't think much of it. But Then, a minute or so later, my eyes snapped open. I glanced down and saw a woman's forearm lying across my body holding me. The scent of that perfume was unmistakable. Panic coursed through me as I realized this was not my girlfriend. My senses returned to me, and I remembered that my girlfriend was not due back until the next afternoon. Why would she have come home in the middle of the night?

I lipped out of bed terrified and disoriented. I turned on the lights, and there she was. a young woman, probably in her mid-20s with a smile on her face. She kept brushing her hair away from her face and continued to call me babe. I screamed at her to get out of my bed, but she just kept smiling. I grabbed my phone and called the police, but she didn't react or resist. Instead, she started to shush me again, and had tried to rub my arm, as if consoling a lover. I was in a state of utter disbelief, frantically explaining the situation to the arriving officers. The woman sat there calmly, seemingly unfazed.

She wasn't armed, hadn't attempted to harm me, and had no prior legal issues. I later learned that she was our neighbor, living on the same street, but she had been so quiet that I hadn't even known she existed. While residing in her own house, she had developed an unhealthy obsession, an infatuation with me. When she noticed my girlfriend's absence, she began breaking into our home, convinced that I was in love with her. Despite the strange and unsettling situation, the woman had never posed a physical threat.

Thankfully, she hadn't meant me any harm, but the fact that I had essentially had a borderline stalker living in my house for almost a week was deeply unsettling. She never returned to her own house, and shortly thereafter, we moved away. I heard that her family had been notified, and she was undergoing treatment for an unspecified illness. To this day, I'm not sure what that illness was, but this experience, left me with a profound understanding of just how weird and unpredictable people can be. You truly never know what could happen. I found this note while exploring an old abandoned building in my town. I wasn't sure what to do with it, so I typed it out,

and figured I'd send it to just creepy. Here it is. I want to start by saying I have always been skeptical of all things supernatural and otherworldly. That said, I'd be a fool to deny the presence of something evil at my job. I am Ryan, a 26-year-old man from the lower peninsula of Michigan. I've worked at my current job at a farmer's market for the last eight years. I've always loved working outside with the plants in the summer and the Christmas trees in the spring. It feels like where I belong, but lately, something weird has been happening.

It started about two months ago, right about when the sun started going down before closing time. I started hearing this. Well, if I'm honest with you, I don't even know what to call it. It was like a scratching, I guess. It's like the sound of metal against metal, but more like knives against metal, if you know what I mean. Like if Wolverine from X-Men took his claws out and ran them down the side of a shipping container, I had never heard a sound more bone-chilling in my life. For a while, I thought it was maybe just in my head, just my brain trying to fill the silence of a slow day.

One day my co-worker Leanna mentioned hearing the same scratching noise around closing time. A few months had passed, and this had been going on for quite some time at this. point. Finally, we couldn't take it, so we took the problem to our boss, John. He and a few other workers had also heard the sound, and he planned to check it out that night. So after we closed, John stayed behind to investigate the sound, thinking it'd be taken care of by morning. But when the sun dawned the next day and I opened the store, John was nowhere to be found. I called his cell phone, but he didn't answer, and this was incredibly unlike him, considering he owned the business. Morning came and went, and eventually the sun began to set again, still no word from John.

On the night following that day, the beast in the vent seemed more antsy than usual, and I had a bad feeling about John's safety. Nevertheless, my co-worker Dale decided to be a hero and go into the air ducts, looking for John. As expected, Dale never returned. Now, I know what you're thinking. Why hasn't this guy called the freaking police? Well, if I were to call the police and say, a creature in the vents of my building is taking my co-workers one by one, doing God knows what to them. They'd probably think I'm crazy and might even blame me for the disappearances. So that wasn't even an option. About a week later, I finally had my first morning off.

It had been too long since I got to sleep in, and as I was looking forward to a stress-free, slow morning, I woke up around 10.30, and made some eggs for me and my dog, Juan, a 10-year-old border collie who still acts like like a puppy. I took Juan for a walk through the neighborhood, and he played in the leaves like he often does this time of year. Overall, it was an excellent start to the day. I got to work around 3 o'clock, and when I arrived, Amelia's car was parked in her spot, but she was missing. I frantically searched the whole store, hoping she would be reorganizing in some place she usually wasn't. However, my hopes were crushed after the whole building was scoured twice, and Amelia was nowhere to be found. My heart sank to my stomach as I realized what had happened. Amelia had most likely heard

the beast scratching this morning and went to check on it for herself. Lina got to work around 3.30 and asked me where Amelia was, making some jokes about how she was always leaving early. But I swear I saw her stupid sticker-covered car when I got here, I replied. Lina questioned, yeah, about that. I think she heard the scratching and went to check it out alone. Oh, shoot. Well, now I feel bad about the comment on her car, Lena said, trying to put a light-hearted spin on the situation. Lena has always been a little slow, but fearless. But when she suggested that our friends were playing a prank on us to get out of work, I wasn't really surprised.

I'm just going to go up there and bust them, she said eagerly. I begged her not to go, knowing that her fate awaited her in the vents. But she persisted. She crawled up into the ducks. And that's the last time I saw her. As I'm writing this, it's my turn to go into the vent to rescue my friends. I know what the vent holds for me, but I couldn't go on living with the guilt of not trying to save my coworkers.

So I'm writing this as a warning to whoever finds this note. Stay away from this building, for it isn't owned by Jonathan Phil anymore. The beast holds it. That's the end of the letter that I found. I'm not exactly sure what to do with this information. Should I call the police? I don't even know. Hopefully it's not real. When Mother's Day means celebrating your mom, your wife, maybe even your daughter as a new mom,

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