Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 6 True Scary Forest Stories

Episode Date: January 12, 2024

These are 6 True Scary Forest Stories Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent into www.justcreepy.net Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:08:40 Story 2 00:13:07 Story 3 00:20:16 Story 4 00:31:25 Story 5 00:52:10 Story 6 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #forest #redditstories #nationalpark #deepwoods 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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were cherished memories. Alberta was my home, and I never imagined straying too far from it. The farthest I thought I'd ever venture was down to Edmonton for work. However, fate had other plans for my family, leading us farther away from home than I could have ever imagined. My career path had taken me to Melbourne, Australia, where I met a girl, got married, and decided to build our family. Since my side of the family was more flexible with travel, they visited.

visited us in Melbourne once or twice a year. But for all those years, my children had only heard stories about their dad's homeland, and most importantly, they had never seen snow. My daughter Angie had turned five, and my little boy, James, was four when my wife and I decided it was time to introduce them to the beauty of a Canadian winter. So, we planned a trip back to Alberta for Christmas in 2018. Angie was particularly thrilled, while James seemed rather bewildered by the prospect. Upon landing in Edmonton and embarking on the 84-mile journey to my parents' place,

my kids were utterly captivated by the pristine snow-covered landscape that enveloped us. Showing them my beloved hometown was a magical experience, and they relished their time with their grandparents. However, the snow stole the show, as my children reveled in its splendor. In Australia, Christmas was celebrated much like in Canada, but the glare difference was the weather. While northern hemisphere countries were immersed in deep winter, the southern hemisphere was sweltering in high summer. It was a bizarre feeling to witness festive advertisements featuring fake snow in 40 degrees Celsius heat. I often wondered if Australians would eagerly trade their scorching weather for a day of frost just to align with the Christmas spirit.

For my kids, having a snowy backdrop for Christmas was as enchanting as a trip to Disneyland, and they cherished every moment of it. The kids couldn't get enough of the snow. They wanted to build snowmen, engage in snowball fights, and experience all the winter activities I had enjoyed as a child. Donning warm winter clothing was an exciting novelty for them.

Angie once remarked that she felt like either an Eskimo or an astronaut, given how alien the experience was for them. Our adventure took an unexpected turn when my wife spotted an advertisement for a winter, glamping experience at Jot Lodge. We eagerly booked an overnight stay in one of their family-sized yurts. Arriving on December 21st, we were all set to build an army of snowmen by noon. We froliced in the snow for hours, but as twilight descended, my wife retired to the yurt to prepare dinner on the provided camping stove. The kids and I continued to play in the fading light,

and after an intense snowball fight where my children unexpectedly teamed up against me, we all grew ravenous. We were just a short distance from the yurt, so I dashed back to check on my wife, who assured me dinner would be ready soon. I then returned to the spot where my kids had been playing, only to find Angie starting the base of yet another snowman. My heart pounded as I realized that James was nowhere to be seen.

I initially assumed James couldn't have strayed too far, but panic surged through me when Angie looked up with concern and stammered, I don't know. She seemed to fear my anger, but my overwhelming emotion was frantic terror. I knew I had to find James, and I followed his little bootprints, frantically calling his name. The moments that followed were the most terrifying of my life, exacerbated by the fact that Angie was witnessing my frantic search, feeling a sense of responsibility for her little brother's disappearance.

I followed James's footprints through the snow, until they led me to a sight that sent chills down my sense. spine. An icy, cold stream lay before me. It didn't appear deep or wide, but it was the perfect size for a four-year-old to fall into and be swept away by the current. My heart raced as I scanned the water for any sign of James, screaming his name in desperation, hoping he would hear and come running. My daughter watched, petrified, as I ran up and down the stream's banks, searching for any trace of my son's body in the water. These moments were excrucied. the fear of losing my child consuming me.

I scarcely paid attention to the opposite bank, deeming it impossible for James to have crossed without being swept away. But then, when I heard his voice, I spun around, only to see him standing on the other side of the stream. To my amazement, he didn't seem frightened or anxious. James wandered through the snow in his overcoat and boots, seemingly carefree. I rushed across the stream, scooping him up into my arms. I didn't scold him.

Instead, relief washed over me, and I could see that he was scared too, as tears welled up in his eyes upon seeing Angie, who was also crying. I carried him back to the yurt where my wife awaited, confused, and angry. After recounting the ordeal to my wife, she expressed anger at me, then at our daughter, and then at me again. But primarily, we were all just relieved that we had found James safe and unharmed, avoiding a potential Amber alert. Once we calmed down a bit, we had dinner, put the kids to bed,

and I couldn't help but ask James something that had been gnawing at me since it popped into my head just after dinner. I asked him, how did you get across that stream, buddy? We were all so relieved to have found James safe and sound, so that was the main thing on my mind. I never really thought about how he had gotten across until that moment. James's response sent a shiver down my spine, making my blood run cold. He said, The snowman carried me.

Of course, I knew a snowman couldn't have carried him across an icy stream, but someone had, and that thought made me feel sick to my stomach in the most delicate way possible. I gently told James it couldn't have been a snowman, and asked if it was maybe a person dressed in white clothes or with snow on their hair or shoulders. He shook his head and repeated, The snowman carried me. Before I could press further, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, not more than five or ten minutes later. I couldn't imagine what he had gone through or why he didn't react more strongly to being taken by a stranger. The next morning, we were on our way back home, not even considering asking for

a refund due to how shaken we were. Once we returned, I contacted the police to report what had happened. Within a day, they confirmed our worst fears. On the opposite side of the stream, alongside James's tiny footprints, were larger footprints that had undoubtedly been left by his potential abductor. James later told us that the person who carried him had worn a white hat or light-colored clothing. They had carried him through the woods for a brief moment before setting him down and walking away. James didn't recall any words exchanged or feeling scared during the encounter. It was bizarre for a child not to react when picked up by a complete stranger, but there was something deeply unsettling about the whole incident. The memory of that day

continues to haunt me, leaving me with unanswered questions and a profound sense of unease. The thought of a stranger taking my son and then letting him go chills me to the bone, and I can't help but wonder what might have happened if they hadn't decided to release him. My name is Jim, and I live in Northeast Louisiana. A few weeks ago, my friends Dave, Ryan, Jess, and I embarked on an unforgettable trip to visit some of my family in Washington State. Dave and I were both 18 years old, while Ryan and Jess were a year older at 19. Our adventure began in late October when we packed up all our belongings and set out on a long road trip from the swamps of Louisiana to the scenic landscapes of Washington. Our visit to my uncle's house in Washington was enjoyable, filled with laughter, and catching up with relatives we hadn't seen in years.

As our time in Washington was coming to a close, Ryan suggested that we spend our last night camping in the nearby woods. Dave and Jess readily agreed to the idea, but I was a bit hesitant. A million different thoughts raced through my mind, but in the end, I decided to go along with it. We borrowed two tents from my uncle and ventured into the woods, setting up our campsite not too far from his house. If we unzipped our tent doors, we could barely make out the faint glow of his porch light in the distance. We were in a remote area, with no neighbors for miles around. It felt isolated, but in a thrilling way. After spending the evening by the warm, crackling fire we had built, we all decided it was time to call it a night.

well all except for jess who wanted to savor a little more peace and solitude beneath the starry sky i figured why not i joined her and we continued to chat for about twenty more minutes basking in the serenity of the forest then it happened i saw something massive moving in the darkness about twenty yards away from us it was colossal at least ten feet tall or so it seemed in the dim light panic surges through me as a million thoughts raced through my mind. Jess and I exchanged nervous glances, and without a word, we retreated to one of the tents. We woke up Ryan, who was still half asleep, and in hushed tones he mumbled, what the hell's going on? He grabbed his hatchet and sat up, trying to make sense of our incoherent explanations. Go back to sleep, y'all, Ryan finally said, putting his hatchet down and curling back into his sleeping bag. Around 20 minutes later, we heard it again. the ominous footsteps, slow and deliberate, encircling our tent. Ryan was now fast asleep, oblivious to the eerie presence outside.

I quietly reached for Ryan's hatchet and held it tightly in my hand. With my other hand, I covered Jess's mouth to keep her from screaming. We realized that we had left Dave alone in his tent with no means of defense. Jess bravely volunteered to step outside with the hatchet, As she cautiously ventured out, she immediately recoiled, her breath coming in heavy, terrified gasps. I urged her to explain what she had seen, but she could only stammer about something vast and solid black lurking in the shadows. I couldn't let her face this unknown menace alone. With hatchet in hand, I stepped out of the tent, and there it was, the colossal figure looming over our campsite, peering down at our tent.

my heart raced and I swung the hatchet blindly at its leg in sheer terror. A pained scream pierced the night as the enigmatic creature fled into the darkness. The scream jolted Dave and Ryan awake. They rushed to our side, demanding to know what had happened. Before we could respond, Ryan looked down at the deep, massive footprints left in the mud. Dave's eyes widened in astonishment. Is that a big foot? he exclaimed. My cousin, alerted by our commotion, arrived at the scene with a pistol and a lantern in hand.

What the hell was that? she shouted, her voice trembling. Ryan pointed at the enormous footprints. I ain't never coming without a gun again, he declared. His voice filled with determination. I couldn't shake off the fear that had taken hold of me that night. Sleep remained elusive until we returned to the familiar comforts of Louisiana. That was one creepy and unforgettable. night, one that none of us would ever forget.

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I've been a long-time listener here, but today I'm finally sharing my own story. One that's far from those cliche, creepy guy stared at me tales. This is the story of how my best friend from college, Tyler and I, almost met our demise in the woods. And let me assure you, it's not just about creepy staring, it's about survival, fear, and a scar to prove it. Back in college at CU Denver, Tyler and I developed a strange fascination with survivalism during our sophomore year. We lived off campus, working part-time jobs, and were within a stone's throw of Chief Mountain in Mount Blue Sky. Hiking became our go-to method for blowing off steam and staying fit. Our interests started during freshman year when we were still on campus, but after we moved into our apartment,

we watched a movie one night that ignited our curiosity even further. The movie was called Alive, and it depicted the harrowing true story of a South American rugby team whose plane crash landed in the Andes Mountains. To survive the freezing conditions and injuries they resorted to consuming the flesh of their deceased teammates. It was an intense film, and it captured our imaginations. We couldn't help but ask ourselves, what would we do in a similar situation?

It became a debate on how hungry we'd have to be before resorting to cannibalism. A grim topic indeed. Obviously, we never wanted to put that to the test. Instead, we decided on the next best thing, heading into the mountains during peak snowfall, and attempting to camp for a night or two to see if we could handle it. Now, before I continue, let me emphasize that what we did is not something I'd recommend. Wilderness camping is risky enough, but doing it during the dead of winter is downright foolhardy.

But being the naive college students we were, we thought it was a brilliant idea. So, after planning over Christmas break, we set off on the first weekend back at school. We drove up to Echo Lake Park near Rogers Peak, parked our car, and ventured into the snowy forest in the direction of Mount Goliath. It took us a few miles, but we eventually found a sheltered spot among the pine trees where we cleared a space for our camp. I won't bore you with the gritty details of how miserable it was to camp in those conditions. Suffice it to say, it sucked.

Everything stayed wet, making it a constant struggle to keep the fire going, and we barely got any sleep. The experience was so terrible that we decided to pack up and leave around 6.30 or 7 in the morning, using the first light to find our way back to the car and escape to the warmth of home. I used my trusty jet boil to make some coffee inside the tent, and after warming up and caffeinating ourselves, we started packing. Tyler finished a minute or two before me, then opened the tent flap and said he was going to take a quick pee. I nodded, still half asleep, and continued with my task. Moments later, Tyler returned, but didn't enter the tent. Instead, he squatted by the entrance and asked, is your knife within arm's reach? I assumed he

had spotted a bear. Sometimes they woke up from hibernation early. And when food, was scarce, they posed a significant threat to campers. Curiously, I inquired about the issue, expecting to hear about a bear. However, Tyler's response left me bemused. There's a dude, he said. He was watching me take a leak. Relief washed over me as I processed the situation. So what if some early morning hiker had given Tyler a disapproving look while relieving himself in the snow? But then Tyler added a chilling detail. The guy, had a gun. Now this didn't immediately send me into a panic given that seeing armed individuals in Colorado's mountains wasn't entirely uncommon. But maybe I was too tired, too cold, or too eager to leave,

but I failed to grasp the gravity of the situation. Tyler's explanation might have been inadequate, or perhaps my mind couldn't comprehend the danger lurking in those snowy woods. I sat there, bewildered, when in reality, we should have been running for our lives. Suddenly, Tyler turned his head, his eyes widening, and he screamed, Get out of the tent! I hadn't even finished packing, but his urgency spurred me into action. I scrambled out of the tent, my heart pounding. What I saw outside left me frozen in fear. It was a hunter, a lone figure with a ski mask or balaclava covering his face. He remained silent as we slowly backed away, trying to communicate that we didn't want any trouble and apologizing if we had

trespassed. We babbled on, trying to diffuse the situation, but the man remained mute. Then, to our horror, he raised his rifle, aiming it directly at us. Time seemed to slow as we waited for the inevitable shot. Bang. The first shot was deafening, echoing through the woods as we sprinted away from our campsite. It felt like an eternity between the first shot and the second. I vividly recall thinking, he's aiming, any second now, and I'm dead. Then another bang, and I felt something strike the back of my left thigh. My leg threatened to give way, but I pushed through the pain and ran alongside Tyler through the dense trees. I knew I had been hit. The bullet fragment had punched into my thigh, but thanks to the pine trees, it hadn't severed my femoral artery.

Warm blood streamed down my leg as I sprinted, but the cold air made it feel strangely cold at the same time, a sensation I never wanted to experience again. In a blur, we made it down the mountain. Either the hunter couldn't get another shot at us, lost us, or decided to flee the area before we could find someone to call the police. To say I got off lucky would be an understatement. The pine trees had thwarted his aim, and the bullet had fragmented, slicing open the top of my thigh. as I sprinted. The doctor later told me that if the bullet had hit the tree slightly differently, or if I had been running a bit slower, the fragment could have severed my femoral artery, and I would have bled out within minutes. As for the man who had taken shots at us, the police questioned a few hunters but never made any arrests. No one was charged with attempting to murder us up on that mountain. If you ask me, the guy was just a hunter, not someone looking

to shoot people intentionally. He might have been a psycho who thought, no witnesses, why not? I guess there are people out there who want to know what it feels like to kill, but I'm not implying that every hunter thinks that way. I just know for certain that at least one of them does. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel

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Just steps from the water. water. The Hilton sale is on now. Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton for the stay. When I was a kid of about 12 years old, I used to live in a small town just outside Johnson City, Tennessee, deep in the Appalachian Mountains. This was back in the 70s, a time when people were different about their kids. We would go off all day and not come home until dark. And folks didn't worry about the same kinds of things we do now, but perhaps we should have. We would explore the woods, find abandoned mines and caves, and camp outside on warm summer nights.

We weren't stuck in front of the TV like kids today. Back then, you could only get two or three channels in the mountains, so it was pretty boring to just stay home. In retrospect, we did some pretty dumb things and took some insane risks that could have cost us our lives, but somehow we survived it all. The story starts early one morning when I and my brothers and sisters were waiting for the school bus. It was around 7 a.m. on a cold November morning, probably in 1973 or 1974. We noticed the gravel on the road moving, heard the sound of rocks falling, and could see dirt and dust rising from a nearby ridge. This continued for. for about 10 seconds, and was enough to make us run back into the house.

The radio in my dad's old car said there was a 7.3 magnitude earthquake in Claiborne County to the north. I remember my dad saying it was felt all the way in Charlotte, North Carolina, some 100 miles south. We ended up missing school that day, which was pretty cool for us, so we took off like we usually did into the woods by that ridge, because we wanted to see which rocks had fallen. On our way to the ridge, we saw a place where the ground had opened up, revealing a cave entrance. Real cave entrances, which aren't cleared for tourists, look a lot different than the ones in movies or pictures.

This one was covered with roots, leaves, and dirt, but you could see inside it pretty well. We went back to the house, got some rope, and my dad's old lantern. Before long we were back at the new cave with our supplies, gathering up our courage to go in. We talked about finding gold or diamonds, maybe turning it into a secret hideout. There were four of us, including two twin boys, my best friend Dan and me. Dan and I were inseparable for the most part, while the twin boys were always getting into trouble and used profanity a lot. But they were always trying to outdo each other, so they were fun to hang around with.

We climbed down the embankment to the mouth of the cave and turned on the lantern. We pulled away roots and leaves to make the cave. cave mouth big enough to climb through. I stuck my head inside and was immediately met with the smell of death. The air was so thick with the smell of it that I gagged. Not to be discouraged, I pulled my t-shirt up over my nose and pushed past the roots until I was inside. Dan handed me the light, and inside I saw a low, flat room about four feet high and easily 20 feet across. The cave went further back, but my light couldn't make out any details past that. Dan crawled through next, and then the twins, holding the lantern as high as I could. We proceeded into the cave,

and once we were inside, we could see bones of animals all over the floor. Some of them had been picked clean, while others still had meat on them. Then, one of the twins found a dog collar on one of the bones, revealing that these were the remains of cats, dogs, sheep, deer, and small rodents. The bones were scattered around the floor as if they'd been tossed away from the carcasses. I remember thinking, what could have done this? That's when I noticed two lights reflecting the lamp in the back of the cave. It didn't make a noise, but I remember saying, Guys, we need to get out of here now.

I never took my eyes off those two pinpoints of light. It must have been something in my voice because Dan perked up and followed my gaze without another word. We all got out of the cave as fast as we could. There was only one thing it could be, a bear's den. Once outside, we all ran back to the house and told our dad what we saw. He was getting ready to go to work the second shift at the Blue Gene factory in town. He told us to stay away from that place until he could go check it out. Mom overheard us and told us that if we went back out there,

she would tear our butts up. Getting mauled by a bear was not something we wanted, so we agreed. Just to be sure, Dad gave us a few chores to keep us occupied until he got back home, splitting firewood and breaking up coal. That was enough to end our adventures that day. The rest of the week was uneventful, except for the news of the earthquake. That was the topic at school and at home for the rest of the week. By the weekend, Dan and I had decided we were going to go back and explore that cave to see if there really was a bear in it. Pretty dumb, but we decided to go armed with pocket knives and sharp sticks to take care of the bear if there really was one, or at least we thought we would. We climbed the hill back to where the cave mouth was. A couple of

nighttime rains had washed away the mud and made the mouth of the cave bigger and easier to get in and out of. We made our way inside the cave and passed the smell, which was still very much permeating from the entrance. Once inside, we crouched and walked back to the back side of the cave. The cave entrance narrowed to an opening in the back wall that sloped down at a pretty steep angle, like a set of steps. We continued deeper and noticed there were no bones or animal remains back in this part of the cave. It went back another 100 feet and stopped at a rather large hole that seemed to go straight down. The strangest part was that we could feel warm air coming up from out of the hole.

We couldn't see the bottom when shining the light down into it. We didn't have enough rope to go farther, so we made our way back out of the cave. Undaunted, we wanted to know how deep that hole was. We used the lantern to build a fire and made some makeshift torches. Dan was one of the best fire starters I'd ever seen. Within minutes, we were equipped with torches, and were back in the cave. We dropped a torch down the hole,

and it hit the bottom about 20 feet down. It opened up into a room with a dirt-covered floor. Then, there was a growl, unlike anything I'd ever heard in my life. It was coming from somewhere down in that hole, from something. It sounded like a tiger or a lion, some sort of big cat, more than that of a bear. Then it screamed so loud we dropped our gear and covered our ears.

We could see from the torch lights that it was circling the torch, but staying away from most of it. It was looking up at us, big and lean, definitely not a bear, more like a mountain lion, but its fur was black as pitch, and its ears were like a doberman's, straight and tall like horns. It didn't look like any cat, dog, or bear. Its eyes glowed red in that firelight, like two hot coals. It would look at me, then at Dan, as if it were trying to decide who, it would kill first. When it screamed again, it was like having a ton of sand dumped on you from above. I went down to my knees and tried to curl into a ball. The scream made me feel weak,

unable to think or move. My head felt like it was a gong, or someone had placed a giant bell on my head and started to beat at it. I felt sick, confused, in pain, all at the same time. Dan collapsed into a ball with his hands on his ears. He had dropped the lantern, and it had rolled off the edge down into the hole. It went pitch black up top, but the bottom of the hole burst with light as the lantern shattered right beside the thing. Another scream came from it, this time a scream like it was in pain. We didn't feel weakened from it this time. We were just terrified.

It was like the spell had been broken, and we were free. Our survival instincts kicked in and we took off. Dan and I made our way up the slope as fast as we could. We could tell that whatever that was in the hole was going to come after us. We just knew that it would not let us live for dropping that lantern. It was like there was a connection to the thing in our minds, and it was talking to us. Once up the slope, we could see the dim light at the entrance,

and we quickly made our way back. Just before we reached the mouth of the cave, we heard the scream again. This time, it was like being hit by water coming out of a fire hose. It knocked both of us down as we desperately covered our ears, then tumbled forward toward the entrance. We got out of the hole and ran all the way home with tears pouring down our faces. Neither one of us could hear for a week. I remember having a headache that was so bad my parents took me to the emergency room. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong with us other than the many scratches and bruises we had from the cave. We were told that we were very lucky to be alive, as there are a lot of poisonous gases in caves,

and that was probably what was causing the headaches, but it should pass. About a week later, it was just a ringing sound in my ear, but I will never forget it. I remember having the strangest dreams for months afterward, dreams where I was back in that cave with that screaming thing. I would wake up curled into a ball again, just like before. I think Dan experienced the same thing. We never went back to the cave. It was very unlike us, but we weren't courageous enough to go back there. My family moved soon afterwards, and Dan and I lost contact.

Many years later, I went back after hearing that they'd had another earthquake. I wanted to visit and see if that cave was still there. It is, although it looks like part of the roof collapsed in on it. I tried to look up Dan too, but he had moved away. The twins were there, working with him. working at a local garage. They said Dan lived there for about 10 more years. He never quite got over the experience.

Actually, he ended up being sent away to a special school for the deaf for several years. When he did come back home, he was a very quiet person, didn't make many friends, and he lived with his parents and worked at the mill for a while. Everyone said he kept to himself and that he liked to drink. I don't know what it is that the earthquake opened up back then. I guess I'll never know. I do know this, though. It was more than just a bear, more than just a mountain lion.

This thing had the ability to use its cry to disable its enemies or prey. I'm not sure which we were to it. I also know it was smart enough to get into our heads. I've never known another animal that can do that. Some things work better together, like Nars' soft matte complete concealer and radiant creamy concealer. Soft matte complete concealer erases and blurs imperfections with full coverage. Then, radiant creamy concealer evens and brightens with a luxurious texture and radiant finish. Two concealers.

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your laughter, your tears, and then, in the blink of an eye, they're gone, and you're left with a million words to say, but no one to say them to. It's as if they take all your joy and warmth with them, leaving you to wander through life like an empty shell. The earth becomes a cold, barren husk, devoid of color and life. In the midst of this aimless drift, your mind occasionally toys with the idea of joining them in death, just to be reunited with the person you held so dear. My older brother and I were two peas in a pod, a pair of despondent souls who found meaning in each other's company. In our childhood, we were inseparable.

We did everything together, so much so that we couldn't even bear to be in separate classes during elementary school. The thought of being apart for too long would lead to protests that my parents still reminisced about. Our parents owned a vast expanse of land in Washington State, including a dense forest behind our house. Every single day, without fail, my brother and I embarked on a long and arduous journey into those woods. We would spend hours playing together, our young imaginations running wild. We'd pretend to be knights, building castles out of sticks strewn about the forest floor,

and laying siege to each other's fortresses. Looking back now, those are my fondest memories of my sibling and me. But as we reached our teenage years, something changed. My brother and I started to drift apart. He began to allocate the majority of his free time to his frequent girlfriends, while I dedicated myself to academics and a part-time job. We started talking to each other less and less, and as our conversations dwindled, the divide between us grew wider.

It was a silent acknowledgement of what was happening, a decision we both made to ignore the growing chasm, a choice I would later regret deeply. It was during the final weeks of my junior year in high school that everything changed. The weight of tests and exams inundated me, sweeping aside all other aspects of my life, including my social relationships. I had friends, but like me, they were heavily engrossed in their studies. being the terrible time manager I was, I couldn't spare even a minute

from my relentless preparation for finals to socialize. That was when my brother extended an unexpected invitation. He offered me the chance to attend a graduation party being held by an acquaintance of his. Normally it was for seniors only, but he was willing to make an exception for me. I hesitated, as parties weren't my scene, but after weighing my options, I reluctantly agreed.

Perhaps it was my desire to impress my brother, to rekindle the bond that had faded away over the years, that convinced me to go. The rest of the week passed in a blur as I diligently chipped away at my remaining homework. When Saturday morning arrived, I was greeted by my brother's mischievous smile. I had overslept, and he took full advantage of the opportunity to wake me up with a jolt. Wakey, wakey, sleepy head. It's eleven. I want to make sure my favorite little bro is ready for the night out, he said, patting my head. I groaned still half asleep. I hate you so much, man, I muttered. He chuckled and left my room,

utterly proud of his successful wake-up call. The aroma of bacon and eggs greeted me as I got dressed and headed down to the kitchen. My mother was at the stove and she greeted me with a warm smile. I returned the courtesy and took my seat at the kitchen table. When my mother finished cooking, she set the plates on the table. What's the occasion? I asked. She smiled. It's been a while since you two have spent some time together. I thought I'd commemorate the occasion. I looked down at my plate, guilt washing over me. Well, mom, things get busy, you know? I can't balance at all, school, work, and everything. The important thing, she said, is that you're making an effort now. As the morning turned into afternoon and afternoon into evening,

I started having second thoughts about attending the party. I was convinced that once we arrived, my brother would simply forget about me, leaving me alone in a sea of inebriated teenagers. But I pushed those thoughts aside, determined to impress him and rekindle our long-lost bond. I dressed in a manner that reflected the greaser aesthetic, wearing denim jeans, a leather jacket, and a muscle tea underneath. I grabbed my car keys and ventured to collect my brother. When he saw me, he looked genuinely proud.

My little dweeb of a brother all grown up now, he remarked. I'm telling you, dude, if you just give it a shot, the ladies will be chasing you. I smirked and ushered him out of the door. No time for complimenting me. Even if I am the superior sibling, we've got to get going. It's an unusually chilly main night, he commented as we exited the house. The frigid air hit us like a fringered. train. I opened the garage and we shuffled into my old 79 Camaro. My side hustle during

high school had allowed me to save up for this car, and I was proud of it. We're in for a bit of a drive, I said, but it'll be worth it. The trip to the residence was surprisingly lengthy, taking us down multiple back roads. About two-thirds of the way there, the pavement turned to dirt. Finally, we pulled into our destination at around 7 o'clock p.m. We were the first to arrive, and Howard, my brother's friend and the host of the party, welcomed us inside, offering food and drinks. It was 1985, and the laws against teenage alcohol consumption were not as strictly enforced as they are now, at least not in our part of Washington. Within the hour, a sizable crowd had gathered in Howard's yard. My brother and I helped set up the grill, and someone

had brought a boom box, blasting metal health by quiet riot at maximum volume. As the the party picked up pace, I found myself pleasantly surprised by how much I was enjoying myself. I had expected the experience to be a chore, but it was quite the opposite. I played a few games of blackjack with some of the other guests, and even served as a referee for a drinking contest involving my brother, which he admittedly lost by a wide margin. As the night wore on, the party began to die down, and many guests started to take their leave. I had abstained from alcohol for the duration of the party, unlike my brother, who had overindulged and was having trouble speaking coherently. As the last of the attendees disappeared down the dark road leading away from Howard's

house, I helped him clean up the mess left in the party's wake. In the meantime, my brother lay sprawled out on a sofa, clutching his head. Once we deemed the place immaculate, I helped my brother to his feet, and we prepared to head out. But Howard stopped me. You know, he said, just because the party itself is over doesn't mean the fun has to be. There's this deserted family estate just down the road from here. A lot of people say it's haunted. Want to go check it out? I hesitated, given my brother's level of intoxication. It likely wouldn't be a great idea to venture out into the woods to some decrepit old mansion. Just as I was about to reply, my brother quickly took Howard up on his offer. Sure, man, even if it's haunted, he slurred. It wouldn't

stop me from going. I glared at him, incredulity written across my face. It's late as it is, and we have a curfew. Mom's going to kill us if we go. My brother turned to me, raising an eyebrow. I've already had a couple of drinks, not like I can do much worse. I sighed, defeated. I knew I couldn't change his mind, but I also couldn't allow my brother and Howard to go alone. I gave in, and so the three of us charged forth into the icy night, piling into my car. I had the unfortunate disposition of being the designated driver, a role assigned to me by Howard after he explained that his vehicle's transmission had failed recently. Howard directed me to the supposedly haunted property.

As we sped down winding sparsely populated wooded back roads, the streetlights and sparse forestry began to morph into dense, undisturbed woods. Eventually, we halted in front of an enormous pair of rusted iron gates, decorated with overgrown vegetation. From what I could tell, there had at one point been a pair of initials welded into the gates, but they had since been removed. We carefully exited the vehicle, perhaps intimidated by the looming barriers. Howard glanced at me and my brother, a hint of mischief in his expression. You ready to see some ghosts, guys? he asked. I shrugged unconvinced.

Throughout my life I had never been very religious or spiritual. I simply reasoned that when you die, you cease to exist. I didn't have any intention of changing my mind now that we stood in the presence of this mansion. My brother seemed to have sobered up a bit, his stance shifting from relaxed to uneasy. Yeah, I think so, he replied shakily. Howard shoved open the gates, emitting an audible crested. sound that made my skin crawl. He proceeded to gesture for us to take the lead. How chivalrous of you to make us monster bait, I snarkily stated, trudging my way through the overgrown grass, my brother

following suit. The task of plowing through the excessive undergrowth guarding the estate was rather difficult. Many thorn bushes had inconveniently decided to plant themselves on our path. In due time, the dark silhouette of the house began to materialize in front of us. For all intents and purposes, the place looked very similar to its description. Much of the siding and roofing had partially or entirely rotted away, exposing some of the framework. Where windows had once been, there were now only gaping holes. There appeared to be a wooden deck connected to the entrance of the house,

which lay astoundingly intact. We worked our way to it, and with each step I took, my sense of trepidation slowly crept up, urging me to turn back. But I couldn't. I was here because of my brother, and I couldn't let fear hold me back. As we neared the deck, Howard pushed past us and strode over to the door. He tried the knob, but it refused to budge. Dang it. Hang on. I'm going to kick this thing in, he exclaimed dramatically. He began to vigorously slam his foot on the door, and after three or four tries, it gave way,

crashing into the shadowy interior of the house. I rolled my eyes angered by his lack of discretion, but I dared not oppose him at the moment. Now certainly wasn't the time to argue. Howard was the first who sauntered inside, accompanied by my brother, who was unusually quiet. I treaded carefully, trying to muffle the sounds of my footsteps while I pursued them. As the pitch black enveloped me, I reached for my pocket and produced my handheld flashlight. When I switched it on, my jaw dropped. The entire interior of the house was spotless.

There were no signs of decay, not a single speck of dust. It was like the family had never left. What the? I stuttered before looking to my accomplices, seeing that they had similar reactions. My brother, at last, spoke up. Okay, so this place is missing windows, but somehow the furniture and floors are untouched. Am I dreaming? Howard and I must have been too stunned to reply.

Both of us remained speechless as an eerie hush fell over the three of us. We began to become aware of a distinct noise emanating from the second story, the sound of intense sobbing. My eyes were the size of baseballs, and I glanced at Howard and my brother, panic visible in their faces. Howard spoke in a whisper. We've got to check it out. Someone could be heard in here.

My eyes grew even wider. Are you kidding? Who would be crying like. that in the dead of night in the middle of nowhere. Howard didn't respond. Instead, he began edging toward the staircases leading up to the second floor. Left with no other option, being the self-proclaimed alpha males that we were, my brother and I stumbled after him. As we trampled up the stairs, my sense of trepidation grew stronger, drowning out all logical thought. We reached the top of the staircase and were presented with an extensive hallway.

On both sides we promptly changed our course, while the distressing noise emanated from an unseen room to the right. Howard led the way, my increasing terror climbing to a crescendo, until I realized the noise was coming from the very end of the hallway. If it became necessary to run, our escape would be significantly prolonged. I shone my light down the hall to get a visual on the source, finding that the door to the room was shut. this as an opportunity, I shook Howard's shoulder in a final effort to convince him this wasn't a

good idea. He once again soundly ignored me. Without wasting a word, Howard advanced toward the door as the crying became deafening. In one swift motion, he twisted the knob with a click that made my heart stop. The door swung open, and all at once, the sobbing ceased. The only thing I heard was a faint ringing in my ears. My hands violently trembled as I read. As I read, I read it raised my light to the now gaping doorway. What I saw will forever be burned into my memory, etched into my very being. Inside the room, in a fetal position, there was a figure. It was slender, its colorless flesh lightly stretched across heavy bones. The proportions of this being were not human-like. No, this creature possessed arms extending well over half the length of its

body, ending in sharp talons resembling overgrown fingernails. Long, greasy black hair was draped across its shoulders and back, forming a tangled, shadowy curtain that obscured its features. It lay in a grotesque mound on the floor, unmoving and eerily still. Despite this apparent lifelessness, its spine protruded from its backside, a horrifying series of malignant lumps and deformities. As I stood frozen in place, my mind struggled to process the grotesque sight before me. It was as if my eyes were feeding my brain.

brain a nightmare, conjured from some malevolent corner of my subconscious. My body refused to obey my desperate commands to flee or even to blink. Beside me, Howard, who had backed away from the door with a mixture of fear and caution, made one fatal mistake. The pressure of his backpedaling foot released a nearly imperceptible sound, a creak. It was just loud enough to capture the creature's attention. In an instant, it perked up, its chest rising and falling rapidly as it began to gasp and convulse, each breath sounding like a tortured, wheezing scream. The creature's writhing seemed to stretch on for an eternity. My brother, Howard, and I were held captive by the horrifying spectacle, unable to tear our eyes away from the nightmare unfolding before us.

Finally, it ceased its convulsions, and an eerie noise escaped its unseen mouth. A dreadful demented laughter that echoed in the room like a sickly woman's giggle. Then, with a series of bone-snapping cracks, the creature began to move. It rotated its neck slowly, revealing its hideous face. Even now, nearly four decades later, that image remains etched in my mind. A grotesque reflection of my flashlight in its beady, soulless eyes. It had no nose, only slits that served as nostrils and its mouth, far from human. was a gaping maw lined with rows of needle-like teeth,

dripping with what could only be blood. As the creature rose to a towering height, I began to grasp the gravity of our situation. I may have been six-two, and athletically built, but this monstrosity exceeded my stature. Panic surged within me as my brother shook me out of my trance, shoving me down the hallway with a desperate urgency. He yelled something,

but the adrenaline coursing through my veins drowned out most of his, words. I sprinted down the hallway, reached the stairs, and hurled myself downward, crashing onto the wooden tiles below. I scrambled to my feet and bolted for the exit. Glancing behind me, I saw Howard reach the doorway just seconds after me, and my brother was descending the stairs as I yanked open the car door and dove inside. I fumbled with the ignition, and the car roared to life just as my brother slipped through the gates. The creature sat perched at the iron gates, its mouth still glistening with crimson liquid, but it made no move to pursue us further. We sped away, breaking numerous traffic laws as we raced down the empty country roads

in terrified silence. The soft hum of the engine was our only comfort. When we returned to Howard's home, he hurriedly vanished into his house. I harbored resentment toward him. After all, he had been the one insisting on investigating the mansion in the first place. My brother, and I were left alone in the car, and he eventually broke the silence. I think it's best we just pretend this never happened, he suggested, his voice trembling. I agreed, even though I knew deep down that we could never forget what we had witnessed that night. Life went on, but my brother's health took a severe turn. He suffered from unexplained aches, muscle spasms, and nausea. We admitted him to the hospital in July, and he began describing a tall woman tormentor.

tormenting him in his nightmares. The doctors could find no physical cause for his condition, and despite our hopes, he didn't pull through. I held his hand as he passed away, my tears flowing freely. My brother's death left an indelible mark on our family. I couldn't focus on academics as I grappled with the loss, but one thing he had said haunted me, the woman in his dreams. It had to be the same creature we had encountered. It had taken my brother from me. On a chilling October morning, after I turned 18, I persuaded my father to lend me his hunting rifle under the pretense of going hunting with friends. Filled with determination, I set off for the old abandoned family estate deep in the woods. After a long drive, I reached the familiar iron gates and paused in my car, reflecting on the profound impact this place had on my life.

Loading the rifle, I pushed open the gates and began my approach. As I drew closer to the house, I raised the rifle's muzzle to the sky and fired three rounds into the air. There was no response. I called out in anger, but still, there was only silence. Fueled by rage, I stormed into the house, determined to confront the creature that had taken my brother. The interior was a scene of devastation, the once sturdy furniture and tiling now reduced to ruins. My bewilderment briefly overwhelmed me, but I couldn't afford to dwell on it. I meticulously searched every room, closet, and crevice, but found no trace of the creature.

My spirit crushed. I exited the crumbling home, defeated. As I stepped outside, rain began to fall, its cold drops battering me. I could no longer contain my grief, and tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to apologize to my brother for failing him. But there I knelt in the field of silence, alone with my anguish. She does a lot for your family. Mother's Day is your chance to show her you see it, with a gift from a brand trusted for generations to help people get the moment right.

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I'll never forget that sound. The crashing of feet on dry leaves passing my tent. It was fast, like I had been visited by an Olympic sprinter three minutes to midnight. The first time it happened, I grabbed my gun and searched the surrounding area. Nothing, not a trace. Settling in my sleeping bag, it wasn't five minutes before something ran past the tent once more. Ten minutes later I heard it again. then nothing further as I waited for the sun to rise.

The wilderness has always been my home away from home, my escape when life was awry. I've been on more camping trips than I count, mostly alone. You see, I don't like people, so after many years abroad, another visit to the outdoors was way overdue. I had been scoping out a new camping site for a while. It was a few hours outside of town, but the reviews online were nothing short of glowing.

This place prided itself on being for the solo traveler, with enough space for campers to pitch their tents without bothering each other. I was sold. With the essentials packed, including my Beretta 92 pistol for safety, I made my way down the highway and eventually arrived at the location's reception office. While some people are more adventurous, I prefer to explore areas curated for campers. Sure, it comes with an entrance fee, but at least I'm unlikely to stumble on the land of a lunatic with a shotgun. As I stepped into the reception, I was immediately struck by a feeling of emptiness.

It wasn't because I was alone. This was a primal reaction that I felt in my gut, like the space around me was stealing my energy. As ridiculous as that sounds, it's the best description I've been able to come up with. reaching the front desk, I called out for someone to assist me. It was almost two in the afternoon, and I knew that the camping site would be preceded by a short hike, as displayed on a nearby map. I didn't have to wait long before an old man in a blue cardigan arrived through the back office door. This guy was old, very old, at least 90, if I were to hazard a guess. He didn't act like it, though. He spoke like a younger man and was far friendlier than his grim appearance would lead you to believe. Taking me through the rules and regulations of the land, he swiftly began saying something about the

history of the area. Now I'm not a rude person, but my adventure was calling, and I had barely been paying attention to what was being said. Perhaps too bluntly, I told the old man that I needed to be on my way. He was disappointed, sad, in fact, but he didn't hesitate to guide me towards the start of the trail. Before I left, I was handed a pair of keys that. would unlock a gate at the mouth of the forest. Finally, my holiday could begin. Despite the

reception's map stating that the forest was two miles away, it took me many hours to reach the towering trees displayed on the website. At first, I wondered if my pace was too slow, but I knew I was as fit as I had ever been. I was surprised that the map was so wrong, but I didn't think much of it. By the time I reached the gate, the sun had begun to set. Standing before the metal barrier, I noticed that the fences on each side stretched into an endless blur. I looked up at the massive tree line and peeked beyond the gate to see the wild world that I was eager to enter.

I tried valiantly, but the key didn't work. Its shape didn't even match the lock. The many odd elements of this trip started to add up, but I shook it off as I was in dire need of a meal, and my thoughts would only slow me down. I suppose what I did next was illegal, but like I said, I had little energy for an alternative solution.

Thankfully the gate was quite short, so I tossed my bag and joined my belongings by climbing up and over. At this point, I wasn't picky about a camping location, so I searched for the first bit of flat open land. Passing the hulking trees, the day's last sunlight shone through the branches. I stopped,

and appreciated nature's beauty for a brief moment. To my despair, this pause brought on the same feeling I had at the reception office. My stamina was waning, so instead of finding an appropriate piece of ground, I immediately put up my tent and prepared an outdoor area for cooking. With a weak supply of beans ready to prepare, I decided to lie down and rest before starting the fire. I hadn't planned on sleeping just yet, but after closing my eyes for a second, I was out like a light.

I'll never forget the sound that woke me up. Something ran past my tent. Initially I wondered if it was an animal. But four feet colliding with the ground is more distinct than you might think. Whatever this was, it was on two legs. I searched the area quite thoroughly but found no sign of the unwelcome visitor. Back in my tent, I heard the noise two more times. On both occasions, I rushed out to catch my guest in the act.

again nothing i didn't get any more sleep that night my mind was buzzing with theories maybe it was a bear on its hind legs no it ran too quickly if it was human why was it running in the woods i have no idea thinking back now what was more chilling than the crumbling leaves was the eerie silence when i was waiting for the sound to come back the new day brought more questions as i quickly learned that my surroundings weren't what i expected. Exiting the tent, I noticed the ashes of a burnt-out fire. Had I started it before collapsing the night before? It didn't make sense, as I surely would have noticed the scorched wood when I searched the area at midnight. Although, I suppose the unwanted intruder had my attention at the time. I knew it was best for me to leave. I had planned to camp for five days, but one bizarre night was more than enough for me. The thought of the long hike back to the reception was daunting, but for the first time in my life, civilization was more appealing than the outdoors. As I packed my bags, I once again started to become drowsy.

Was this due to my lack of sleep, or was it something else? I still don't know. Luckily, I have done training to operate on little rest, so packing my bags wasn't difficult. I was tired, but with my pistol strapped to my leg, I was ready to go. Tracking my movements from the day before, I followed the opening, of the trees. I had sworn that I didn't travel that far into the woods, but after walking for an hour I realized that I must have been wrong. I knew I had gone the right way. After all, I pride myself on my sense of direction. Once I reached one hour and 32 minutes, I shifted my focus from

the ground to the trees. While much of the bark surrounding me was in a reddish-brown shade, there were a few unique prints in the color gray. That's when I realized I was walking in the a loop. I timed it on my watch. Every 12 minutes and 16 seconds I passed a giant redwood with a gray marking in the shape of an eagle's head. Every 16 minutes and 11 seconds I passed a tree that looked like it was decaying. This happened over and over for what felt like hours. I tried everything, going in the opposite direction, moving horizontally, yet I remained stuck in the same cycle. My spirit was willing but my body was weak and after walking an endless path, path, I passed out amongst the dry leaves. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised at what woke me up,

but I was startled nonetheless. The sound of the runner returned, but I didn't have the tent to protect me. The thin fabric wouldn't have done anything but its absence still left me feeling bare. My instincts kicked in and I reached for my gun. Rising to my feet, I pulled out my flashlight and applied the Harris technique, crossing my arms to prepare for combat in the dead of night. The noise, The noises continued as I searched for its origin. I noticed a quick shadow in the corner of my right eye and turned. Firing two bullets, there was nothing there. The sound came back, this time behind me.

It took me only a second to spin my body and pull the trigger three times. Again, nothing. I repeated this pattern until all 15 rounds were spent. I remember wondering if I was going mad, but the thought was fleeting as my eyes and ears had never deceived me before. I don't mean to brag, but I'm good with a firearm. I can hit a target from a distance, even a moving one. In most situations I am certain about my abilities, but not here.

Every time I missed the target and splattered wood on the floor, I felt my confidence depleting. For the first time in my life, I felt that death could be near. I was scared. With my options depleted, I chose a direction and ran. My boots made a considerable impact on the ground. but I swear I heard a second set of feet not too far behind me, keeping up with my pace.

Maybe it was an act of God, maybe it was luck, whatever it was. I soon arrived at the locked gate that swallowed me into the forest. At the time, I barely questioned why it was opened. I simply pushed through and continued towards the reception office and entered its walls after 46 minutes. My memory here gets a bit hazy, but I do remember that the building had its lights off. However, this was no concern for me, as after slamming through the front door, I jumped in my car and drove home.

I wish I could end this story with a shocking plot twist or powerful life lesson, but this camping trip is as mysterious today as it was the day I exited the forest. If I didn't know any better, I would say that I briefly entered another dimension, but if I tell anyone that I fear that they will have me locked up at the funny farm. If I'm being completely honest, this trip left me feeling alive, more than I have been in a long time. I'm writing this with my bag packed in front of me. Even though the website for the camping site has been taken down, I vividly remember the directions to its reception. I don't know what's going to happen, but I am sure of one thing in particular. This time, I will pay close attention to what the old man has to say.