Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 7 True Scary Stories to Help You Relax This Summer

Episode Date: July 19, 2024

These are 7 True Scary Stories to Help You Relax This Summer Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:07:08 Story 2 00:20:26 Story 3 00:27:50 Story 4 00:34:57 Story 5 00:48:57 Story 6 00:54:54 Story 7 Music by: 'Decoherence' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM_AjpJL5I4&t=0s Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #deepwoods #summer 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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We were heading to Payne Road, a place that everyone in North Carolina whispered about. The stories were all kind of scary and honestly, I was a bit scared too, but I didn't want to show it in front of Angel and Robert. Are you sure about this? I asked as we drove closer to our spooky destination. The car's headlights barely cut through the thick darkness of the rural road leading to the infamous bridge where it all happened. Come on, it'll be fun. Don't you want to see if the stories are true? Robert replied from the back seat, his voice full of excitement and a bit of mischief. Angel just smiled at me from the passenger seat, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. The legend said that a long time ago, a man named Edward Payne did something terrible on that bridge.

They said he hurt his family and other people really badly, all to make some evil spirits happy. Now, people said that the bridge and the road were haunted by those spirits. As we drove, the road got narrower and darker. There weren't any streetlights, and the trees loomed over us like giant shadows. My hands were a bit sweaty as I gripped the steering wheel. tighter. Finally, we saw the sign. Edwards Road. This was it. I turned down the road and my heart started to beat faster. We drove for a while, the car's engine rumbling quietly in the still night air. The road was bumpy and seemed to go on forever. Let's stop on the bridge and turn the car off,

Angel suggested, when we finally reached the old bridge. It was a part of the game, according to the stories. If you turned your car off on the bridge, it wouldn't start again because the ghosts were holding it back. I parked the car right in the middle of the bridge and turned off the engine. We sat there in silence, waiting. One minute, two minutes. Nothing happened. The only sound was our breathing in the distant call of an owl. This is BS, I said, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. See, there's nothing to. Before I could finish, Angel reached over and turned the key in the ignition. The car made a clicking sound, but it didn't start. She tried again, still nothing.

My heart dropped. Was the legend true? Maybe it's just the car, I muttered, trying not to sound scared, but my voice shook a little. Robert laughed from the back. Or maybe it's the ghosts. He joked, but I could tell he was a bit nervous now too. After a tense moment, I put the car in neutral, and we all got out to push it. It rolled forward slightly, and when I tried the ignition again, the engine

roared to life. We all jumped back in, not wanting to stay a second longer. As we drove away from the bridge, I tried to laugh it off. See, no ghosts, just a little car trouble. But deep down, I wasn't so sure. The lights on the dash flickered oddly as we drove away, and the air felt colder. I glanced in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see something or someone sitting in the back seat. We decided to go further down the road, ignoring the uneasy feeling in our guts. I didn't know it then, but the night was far from over. Our adventure on Payne Road was just beginning, and things were about to get a lot scarier. As we drove deeper into the night, the eerie feeling we had on the bridge didn't go away.

In fact, it got worse. The road twisted through dark woods that seemed to watch us as we passed. I kept driving, trying to focus on the road ahead, but my mind was stuck on the bridge and the car not starting. Let's turn around and go back, Angel suddenly said. I was surprised because she seemed the bravest out of all of us earlier. Really? You want to go back there? I asked my voice a little shaky. Yes, I feel like we miss something. Let's just take one more look, she insisted. Robert agreed, and even though every part of me screamed to just go home, I turned the car around.

We were heading back to the bridge. As we approached, I felt a nod in my stomach. It was like something was pulling us back, something strong and not very nice. We parked near the bridge again, but this time we didn't turn off the car. We just sat there, staring at the dark road that crossed over the creek. That's when we saw it. Right in the middle of the bridge was a perfect circle. looked like it was glowing faintly, a soft white light that didn't make any sense. What is that? Robert whispered. I don't know, but I'm going to find out, Angel said before I could stop her. She got out of the car and started walking towards the circle.

Angel, wait, I called out, but she didn't stop. It was like she couldn't hear me. Robert and I looked at each other, scared, but knowing we couldn't leave her alone out there. We got out and hurried after her. As we got closer, the air felt cooler and the silence louder. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else. Angel reached the circle and stood right in the middle of it. She looked back at us, her face pale and her eyes wide.

It was like she was seeing something we couldn't. Guys, I think we should go, Robert said. His voice barely a whisper. I nodded, feeling the same fear. I reached out and grabbed Angel's arm, gently pulling her away from the circle. Let's get back to the car. Now, I said.

We all rushed back to the car, jumped in, and I hit the gas. The car moved forward, and as we left the bridge behind, I didn't dare look back. As we drove away, the tension in the car was thick. Nobody said anything for a few minutes. Then, Angel's phone, which was lying on the dashboard, started to make weird noises. It was like a high-pitched screaming, mixed with static. She grabbed it, trying to make it stop, but the noises only got louder. It won't turn off, she yelled over the noise. Finally, after what felt like forever, the noises stopped

as suddenly as they had started. Angel dropped the phone like it was hot, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know what just happened, but I don't think we should ever go back there, I said, and for the first time that night, nobody argued with me. We drove in silence, each lost in our thoughts, wondering if we had really seen what we thought we'd seen, or if it was all just our imagination. But one thing was sure, none of us would ever forget what happened on Payne Road. I was a private detective in Michigan for four years, following a long career in law enforcement. Ironically, it was during what was intended to be four short, quiet years

that I encountered my most frightening and disturbing case. Our agency received a call from a woman who suspected her husband of having an affair. She said she knew he was lying when he claimed to be working late, but essentially said she couldn't deal with the emotional stress of personally uncovering the affair, if one was indeed taking place. That's where I came in. If the client's husband was engaged in an extramarital affair, then it was my job to compile as much photographic evidence as possible

before presenting said evidence to the client. On the surface, it was pretty much. pretty standard private investigator work, the kind of thing that makes up about 30 to 40% of all our time. But in actual fact, it was one of the most disturbing and mystifying events of my entire career. So, as I've already touched on, the client had already done some of the preliminary work herself. She was fine with him working late, and at first she was proud of him for sacrificing his time for the good of their children. But her real suspicions began when they're rather than active love life petered out before dropping off completely. Her husband then started to act

increasingly withdrawn and seemed disinterested in pretty much anything that wasn't work-related. She said that she tried talking to him, but he just brushed the whole thing off as if she were simply imagining things. Then, an incident where he proved a little overprotective of his cell phone proved to be the final straw, the client's husband seemed to descend into a minor panic at the prospect of her gaining unfettered access to it. Since she couldn't gain access to any of his devices, she decided to check in with his place of work to see if he really was working late. When she found out that was a lie, she attempted to follow him one evening after he clocked out of work, but when she saw him driving toward the city limits, she didn't have the nerve to follow

him. Her husband didn't work late every night, so we had to wait for a call from the client. But when we did, I got into position, and I was in a position. and then tailed him after he got out of work at around 5.30, just like his wife had said. He drove miles towards the city limits, and then drove a few more miles out into the country before turning down a dirt road. I didn't immediately follow him. That's not something you'd ever do during a covert pursuit, not unless it was a life or death kind of situation. If the dirt road had a dead end, I could possibly give myself away. So the thing to do was to keep going, pull over, and then use Google Maps to see where the road led.

According to Google, the dirt road led to two places, the first being the next stretch of highway over, and the other being some kind of industrial facility. At first, I figured the whole job had been a complete false alarm because if he was driving out to some industrial site, it was most likely work-related, right? But just to be certain, I started looking into the company that owned the site and how it might be related to the husband's employment. Figuring I might as well, since I was pulled over and had my phone in hand, I saw that the site in question, according to Google, was permanently closed. While that didn't mean the husband was there for legitimate reasons, it did raise my suspicions a

little. So instead of just sitting there and peering at satellite images from 2013, I decided to double back, turn down the dirt road I'd seen the husband go down, and then go check out the industrial compound for myself. I pulled up outside the gates only to see a very derelict looking place, all rusted shipping containers and falling down warehouses. Again, it didn't preclude the possibility that the husband was professionally involved in some way, but I still didn't know if he was actually there. I couldn't see his car, and for all I knew, he'd carried on down the dirt road to that other stretch of highway. I'd have to tail him again to get a concrete idea of where he was.

going. But luckily that's exactly where the guy was headed. Next time I tailed him, he turned down the dirt road, and I followed at a distance. Then, when we got to the chained-up gates of the derelict industrial compound, the husband stopped his car and then got out just as I rolled past him. I could see him watching me out of my rear view, just standing next to his car, still as a statue, and he waited until I was way down the dirt track before he moved again. I managed to hover at the very end of the track long enough where it met the highway that I caught a glimpse of the client's husband driving his car into the derelict industrial complex. Then, when I circled back to take a look, the chain on the compound's gate had been locked again, but when I peered past its iron bars,

there were no parked cars anywhere to be seen. I did a brief check of the fencing around the compound and found it all so rusty and dilapidated that breaking in would be relatively easy. Obviously, we were in touch with the client at every stage of the investigation, but as you can probably guess, she wanted to know what was in that compound just as much as I did. Or more accurately, she wanted to know what her husband was doing there if he wasn't working in some capacity. The client was still insistent on getting conclusive evidence, or at least proving once and for that her husband wasn't being unfaithful. As a private detective, I had something of an advantage

in this situation. When I was a cop, there was no way that I could just force my way onto private property like that, unless I could handle the whole heap of trouble that would be headed my way if I was caught doing so. But as a private investigator, the worst thing that could happen on the legal side of things anyways would be getting charged with trespassing by some cops. This obviously gave me a lot more operational maneuverability, and meant that I could get into the compound and finish the job without having to worry about getting my ass fired. I didn't try to break into the compound until I'd received implicit instructions from the client. After all, a risk was still a risk, and I didn't want to take one unless I absolutely had to. But once we got the okay and a call

saying the husband was working late again, I readied myself to collect the conclusive proof that the client was paying us for. I repeated the process of following the husband from his place of work to the abandoned industrial site. But then, instead of immediately following him to his apparent destination, I continued down the highway for around 10 to 15 minutes before doubling back towards the site. Whatever he was doing and whoever he was doing it with, I wanted to catch them in the act, you know, not walk in on them setting up or just talking or whatever, and potentially jeopardize the entire investigation. It'd be a delicate operation, but it also perfectly illustrates why I was so reluctant to let go of my vocation, even after the standard retirement age. While many of my peers

were content to move down to Florida Keys and spend their twilight years just fishing, I knew right from the second I even heard the word retirement that I'd miss the adrenaline rush that came with the sharp edge of detective work. I guess what I'm trying to say is I was actually pumped to break into that sight, track down my target, and catch him in the act. Not so much out of any ill feeling towards him. I just wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery. As I said, I waited around 20 to 30 minutes before parking my car on the dirt road, and then I searched for the weaker section of the fence that I'd spotted on my first time around. Then, after getting inside and armed with a flashlight, a video camera, I set about searching the derelict industrial site for any sign of the client's

husband. The place was huge, blocks and blocks of old warehouses, and what appeared to be abandoned manufacturing facilities. But the gaps between them were wide enough to drive a vehicle down, and eventually I came across a group of them, all parked outside of this one gray stone building that looked different from the others. At this point, I switched on the video camera, making sure to get a shot of the husband's vehicle along with its plate. But just as I got the shot, I started to hear something, real faint at first, but it got louder and louder as I approached the building. It was the sound of something crying out, and it sounded like pain, but it sounded muffled too, like either they were gagged or someone was covering their mouth with a hand. At that point, I slid my flashlight

back into the holster on my belt and then grabbed my pistol instead. My heart rate was beginning to pick up, and although I wouldn't say that I was scared, I was extremely apprehensive. Like I said earlier, I thought the job was going to be your basic, tail them and tape them kind of deal. So to hear those screams was to realize that this wasn't your basic private investigator work at all. This was something different.

I remember creeping towards the front doors to the big concrete building and thinking to myself, this is a real dumb idea. There was a good chance that I'd be outnumbered and possibly outgunned too. God forbid. But the prospect of abandoning

whoever was in there, screaming. That was something I couldn't allow myself to do. I guess more out of practice than principle, but still, I couldn't. Just walk away. So I opened up the door, crept inside, and carried on walking very gently towards the source of the screaming, which appeared to be inside a room down a dusty, dark corridor. There was a pattern to it too. The screams would start up. These skin-crawling growls and yelps, then they'd die off again. In between the screen, I'd hear voices, some laughing, some talking, and then the screams would start up again, just as loud as before.

I got closer and closer until eventually I'm right outside the room the screams are coming from. I took a breath, made sure my pistol was locked and loaded, and then burst into the room only to be greeted by something that looked like a scene from a horror movie. Surrounded by five men, a sixth had been tied to a chair, and by the looks of things they had been taking turns torturing him. He'd been stripped to his underwear, had blood dripping from various cuts to his arms and legs, and there were also what looked like burn marks all over his body. The first thing I yelled was, State Police, don't move. And that worked like a charm initially.

I directed everyone who wasn't tied to a chair to stand facing the wall, except one, whom I ordered to untie the victim. I told him not to look at me, but he didn't listen, and the second he saw my video camera, he knew that I wasn't with the cops. I mean what kind of state cop works alone while carrying a goddamn video camera of all things. He might have figured out who I wasn't, but then again, I wasn't the one with the gun pointed in their face. The guy freed the captive victim from the chair, who was still gagged and could barely walk. They were mumbling something under their gag. Something at the time I figured was either thank you or some variation on that, but I told them to save it until we were actually in the free and clear.

The last thing I told those sadistic strangers was that they should stay put because anyone who came chasing after me would most likely be shot by my backup officers who were currently rushing to the scene. It was a total bluff, but only one of them knew it for certain, and he appeared to have way more sense than I gave him credit for because he stayed put with his buddies and opted not to get shot. All I remember feeling is relief that the grief,

weren't heavily armed or that a shootout had interrupted as soon as I'd stormed the room they occupied. I still had no idea what was going on at that point, but I knew it was some majorly bad juju, and almost certainly the doing of some organized crime group, which meant that I wanted to get the hell out of there with the victim as fast as humanly possible. I got them to a hospital and stayed with them until the cops showed up, so I could give a statement on what had happened. After that, it was time to talk to the club. client about what I'd seen, which I can assure you was not an easy process. I guess no one wants to find out that their spouse had been taking part in the brutal torture of another human being,

and that they're better off talking to a defense attorney as opposed to the divorce kind. But in this case, the client took it particularly badly. After that, she no longer desired to retain our services, so we parted ways after sending her a bill. I guess the reason that this one stays with me so much is not because I walked in on something so horrible. It's because I have no idea why it was happening. To this day, I've never heard anything about any Michigan torture case. I don't even know if the husband ended up getting arrested. All I know is that taking that job meant that I was in the right place at the right time to save someone a whole world of life-changing torment. Some things work better together. Like Nars's soft-mat complete concealer and radiant creamy

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Just snap a few photos and we'll take care of the rest. Who knew your questionable music taste will be a money-making machine? Your style can make you cash. Start selling on Deepop where Taste recognizes taste. The moment I set my wheels on the winding path leading into the Cascade Mountains, I felt a weight begin to lift off my shoulders. It's strange how the open road and untamed wilderness can momentarily make you forget your troubles,

even if those troubles involve a failing marriage and the harsh memories of a second deployment in Iraq. I drove my trusty 2004-F-150, a companion that had seen better days, but was as determined as I was to escape the noise of the world. The closer I got to the mountains, the more the landscape changed. The trees grew denser, the air cooler and fresher, and the sounds of civilization faded away.

It was just me, my thoughts, and the road. Turning off the highway onto an overgrown path barely noticeable from the road, I felt a thrill of adventure. This road looked like it hadn't seen visitors in years, exactly what I was hoping for. The path was narrow, and branches scratched against the sides of my truck as if warning me to turn back. But I pressed on, driven by a car. a need for solitude. The road ended in a quiet field surrounded by dense woods, with a small stream meandering through the middle. It was perfect. I parked my truck near the edge of the field and stepped out into the cool air. The silence was almost overwhelming, but it was exactly the kind of

peace I needed. Setting up camp didn't take long. I unfolded my old camper shell in the back of the truck, pumped up the inflatable mattress, and threw some blankets on top. I gathered wood for a fire, thinking of how the crackling flames would be my only company tonight. Once the fire was going, I sat back and cooked myself a decent meal of steak and potatoes, something I hadn't done in a long time. It felt good to take care of myself like this. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with shades of orange and purple, I sat by the fire, a glass of single malt scotch in hand.

I watched the flames dance and listened to the gentle sounds of the sky. stream. Out here, away from everything, I could almost forget about the stress of my job, the pain of my marriage falling apart, and the chaos of life back at the base. It was in this moment, with the stars beginning to peek through the darkening sky, that I felt good for the first time in a long time. It was just me and the wilderness, and it felt like I had the whole world to myself. I savored my scotch, each sip warming me against the cool night air. But the piece didn't last. Later, as I settled into my makeshift bed in the back of my truck,

wrapped in blankets and ready for a night under the stars, I was startled by the sound of a growl outside. Heavy footsteps seemed to circle the truck and then a high-pitched scream shattered the silence of the night. My heart raced. Reaching over, I grabbed my 38 special from where it lay within arm's reach. I had always carried it with me while camping, never really expecting to use it.

Sitting up, I pressed my back against the cab of the truck, straining to hear more over the pounding of my heart. But as quickly as it had begun, the noise stopped. I peeked through the camper window but saw only the shadows of the trees swaying in the breeze. Maybe it was just my imagination, fueled by the isolation and the scotch. Trying to calm my nerves I told myself it was nothing, just the wind or a deer perhaps. Despite my attempts to convince myself, sleep didn't come easy.

I lay awake for a long time, listening to the sounds of the night, wondering if the peace I sought was just another elusive dream. That night in the Cascades taught me the meaning of fear in a way I hadn't known before, even with my time in Iraq under my belt. It was supposed to be a quiet retreat, a few days of solitude to clear my head. But as the darkness deepened around my campsite, my sense of peace was shattered. I had barely dozed off when a sudden violent shaking of my truck jerked me awake. My heart thumped wildly as I sat up, disoriented and alarmed. The night was pitch

black, the kind of darkness you only find far away from city lights. Outside, angry voices and loud bangs on my camper shell echoed through the air, turning the quiet night into a scene from a nightmare. Gripping my 38 special, I tried to steady my breath, listening to the chaos outside. Fear crept up my spine as I realized someone, or something, was deliberately trying to scare me, or worse. The voices grew louder, more menacing, and it seemed like the whole truck was being rocked by a storm. I knew I had to get out of there. With my heart in my throat, I crawled through the small sliding window into the driver's seat. My hands shook as I fumbled with the keys,

the noise outside growing louder and more frenzied. When I finally got the engine started, I slammed the truck into gear, ready to flee. As my headlights sliced through the darkness, I gasped. A circle of people in dark robes surrounded my truck, their faces hidden, shouting, and waving their arms. The sight of them, so unexpected and terrifying in their sudden appearance froze me for a moment.

But fear overpowered shock, and I knew I had to act fast. Throwing the truck into reverse, I heard shouts as I backed away. The robed figures jumped aside, and I didn't wait to see if they would come after me. I turned the truck around and sped down the narrow mountain road, the trees blurring past as I pushed the pedal to the floor. My heart raced as I navigated the rough terrain, expecting at any moment to feel. feel a hand on my shoulder or hear the crack of a window shattering. But none of that came. The road opened up and the dense trees gave way to the clearer roads near the highway.

Relief washed over me as I merged onto the main road, though my hands still trembled on the steering wheel. That's when the flashing lights caught me, a patrol car pulling me over. The officer approached cautiously. I rolled down my window, my breath still coming in short gasps, and relayed what had happened as best I could. His expression changed from suspicion to concern as he listened. When I finished, he nodded slowly, his face grave. You stumbled onto the grounds of a local cult, he explained. They don't take kindly to visitors.

You're lucky to have gotten away when you did. His words sent a chill through me. A cult, right here in these serene mountains, it seemed impossible. Yet there I was, shaking and grateful for the presence of this officer. He let me go with a warning to stay clear of the area and suggested I find a safer place to spend the night.

As I drove away, the adrenaline slowly faded, leaving behind a deep exhaustion. I couldn't shake the image of those robed figures, their hostile shouts echoing in my ears. I knew one thing for certain. My search for solitude would never bring me back to these mountains. The day we moved into the old house in Bitterroot Montana, I could already tell something was off. The town was almost hidden from the rest of the world, with just a couple of gas stations,

a church, a school that looked too quiet, and more bars than seemed necessary. The houses were spread out, each one looking like it had its own set of secrets. I'm Alex, by the way. I was about 13 when my mom decided it was time for a fresh start, away from the city and closer to the unknown. With our stuff packed in a rickety old moving truck, we rolled into town under a sky so wide and empty, it made me feel smaller than ever. Our new home wasn't new at all. It was a small three-bedroom house with peeling paint and a yard that looked like it hadn't seen a lawnmower in years. Mom tried to make it sound magical, like we were adventurers settling in uncharted territory, but all I felt was a chill down my spine as we stepped inside.

The house was quiet. too quiet. Like it was holding its breath, waiting for something. Mom busied herself with unpacking, humming tunes to fill the silence. I wandered from room to room, my sneakers echoing on the hardwood floors. It should have felt exciting, a new place full of nooks and crannies to explore, but instead I felt eyes on me, watching. It made my neck tingle. I've always been into paranormal stuff. Ghosts, hauntings, all of it. So, natural. I tried to convince myself I was just imagining things. It's easy to creep yourself out when you're in a strange new place, right?

But it didn't feel like my imagination. It felt like something was there, just out of sight. That night, as I lay in my new room surrounded by unpacked boxes and the soft glow of my nightlight, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every little sound made me jump, the house settling, the wind against the wind. even the distant bark of a dog. It all felt like a warning. The next few days weren't much better.

I started noticing shadows that lingered a little too long, cold spots in the hallway, the faint smell of something burnt when nothing was cooking. I tried to tell Mom, but she had enough on her plate and I didn't want to add to her stress. So I kept it to myself. Curiosity got the best of me one evening, and I found myself pulling out an old Ouija board I'd brought along. I set it up in the living room, the candles flickering as my fingers hovered over the planchette. Is anyone there? I whispered, half not wanting an answer. The planchette moved slowly, jerking towards yes. My heart raced. Was it just my imagination? I wasn't sure I wanted to find out. Just then, a cold breeze swept through the room, blowing out the candles. I sat there in the

dark, heart pounding, feeling more alone than ever. The days began to blur together, each one filled with whispers of the house's past. Mom said I was just adjusting, but I knew it was more than that. I could feel it, a presence, something lingering in the corners where the light didn't quite reach. Settling in bitter root wasn't going to be easy. As I lay in bed that night, listening to the sounds of the house, I knew one thing for sure. We weren't alone here, and I knew. I knew, needed to find out what was hiding in the shadows. Things in Bitterroot went from weird to downright creepy, real fast. It had been a few weeks since we moved into the old house, and I was starting to think that maybe I should have paid more attention to all those ghost

stories I loved so much. They seemed a lot less fun when it felt like you were living in one. One night, I woke up feeling like someone had brushed their fingers across my arm. I sat up, heart pounding and flicked on my lamp. There was nothing there, of course. But when I pulled back my sleeve, I saw them, light, scratchy marks on my skin. I didn't have my dog here to blame, and I certainly didn't remember scratching myself. It freaked me out, but who could I tell? Mom was already stressed enough, and I didn't want to scare my little brother Q or my stepbrother D.

Speaking of D, he started seeing things too. More than once he'd come running into my room. eyes wide as saucers, swearing he saw shadows moving in the hallway. Even Q, who usually dismissed our talks of ghosts as just Alex being weird, couldn't deny the chill that seemed to settle over our home. It wasn't long before we all felt it, like eyes were always on us, watching, waiting. I decided to do something about it. I grabbed my flashlight and summoned all the courage I could muster,

then headed to the one place in the house that always seemed the creepiest. the little crawl space in my closet. I remember pushing open the tiny door, the hinges squeaking loudly in the quiet. My hand shook as I shone the light inside. The walls of the crawl space were covered in scratches and weird symbols that made no sense. It looked like someone had been carving them for years. The sight sent shivers down my spine. I quickly shut the door and backed away, my mind racing with questions.

Who, or what, had made those marks. The days that followed were tense. We were all on edge, jumping at every creek and whisper of the wind. One evening, I was outside with Dee, trying to catch a break from the stifling fear that hung over the house. That's when we saw them, three figures standing at the edge of the backyard, just beyond the dim light of our porch. They were like shadows, but darker, with eyes that seemed to glow a faint, eerie yellow. I grabbed Dee's arm, my voice barely. a whisper. Do you see them too? He nodded, and we both stood there, frozen in fear. After what

felt like forever, we ran back inside, slamming the door behind us. We didn't go outside after dark anymore. I spent the next few days pouring over old books and internet forums, trying to find anything that could tell me what was happening. I even tried some silly rituals I found online, anything to stop the feeling of being watched. But nothing worked. It felt like the shadows were getting closer, growing bolder. One night, as we all huddled together in the living room, Mom finally opened up. She admitted she felt it too, the oppressive, watchful gaze of something unseen. We decided it was time to face this together, as a family.

Whatever was haunting our house, we were going to confront it. We weren't just going to be scared anymore. As I lay in bed that night, listening to the quiet whisperer, of the house. I knew one thing for sure. We were stronger together. And we were going to find out what was lurking in the shadows. Exema is unpredictable. But you can flare less with ebbglis. A once-monthly treatment for moderate to severe eczema. After an initial four-month-month- or longer dosing phase, about four in ten people taking ebb glist, achieved itch relief and clear or almost clear skin at 16 weeks. And most of those people maintain skin that's still more clear

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You should not receive a live vaccine when treated with ebbglis. Before starting Epgless, tell your doctor if you have a parasitic infection. Ask your doctor about Ebglis and visit Epglus.lid.com or call 1800 LilyRX or 1,800 545-97579. The story I'm about to share with you happened to a friend of mine, and to this day, it gives him chills whenever he recounts it. Through this tale, we'll be taken to a land remote, but beautiful. For anonymity's sake, I won't name the town specifically, but I will mention that it's a small yet famous town in Greece. One place that my friend used to, and still to this day, visits quite a lot. The encounter happened approximately 11 years ago, during one summer season, back when my friend

Kay was still a young kid breezing through life with no care in the world like every kid his age. When summer rolled around and school stopped being a nuisance, he and his parents would travel to that town to visit Kay's grandma, who lived alone in an old but respectable house on the outskirts. Naturally, Kay, after having visited plenty of times before, had become fast friends with the kids in the town, especially one in particular, whom I'll refer to as Jay. Kay and Jay spent day after day of summer playing around the town square, playing pranks on locals, and making childhood memories, the likes of which all kids make during those tranquil months of the year.

But one memory, one event, will stand out above the rest, not because it was extremely funny or undeniably enjoyable, but because it speaks of something unexplained, something foreign in that famous town of Greece. Approximately 80 years ago, a brutal event occurred during the 1st December of Greece's participation in World War II. That atrocity was carried out by the German army, who systematically destroyed several villages and towns in the region, killing inhabitants and burning homes as they move towards the town we speak of. Upon arriving on December 13, 1943, the Germans gathered all the inhabitants in the local school

while proceeding to separate the women and children from the men and boys over the age of 12. In an all too cruel decision, the men and boys were taken to a hillside near the town, where they were mercilessly machine-gunned and mass. Despite the very few that managed to survive either by pretend, pretending to be dead or managing to run away. Almost 500 people lost their lives in a matter of seconds. After the executions, the Germans set fire to the town, destroying everything they could find. The school, along with many other buildings, was burned down as well, and only by a miracle

did the women and children manage to escape the flames. The survivors were left to deal with the devastating aftermath, including burying the dead and rebuilding their lives from the ruins. Of course, it's natural that such an event would scar an entire nation, let alone a small town. That's why, after the war, a monument was built upon the hill where all those men and boys were killed. It was a tranquil place, Kay thought, every time he visited,

a hill overlooking the town, greenery all around. And he did that quite often, in fact, especially during late hours. In a town such as this one, there were, not many things to look out for, if any. Children roaming around unattended was the norm, so Kay and Jay took that liberty a bit too far during the last days of Kay's stay in the town for summer. The two friends decided it would be quite adventurous to visit that hill, named the Cross, especially late. Kay's parents weren't, and still aren't, strict at all, and curfew for him was not a problem. Jay's parents would pose a problem, however, but Jay himself didn't

think so. In the end, slipping out seemed to be a breeze. As the two friends walked towards the hill in the dead of the night, Kay could feel the atmosphere in the outskirts. It was as tranquil as ever. No cars, no people, no disturbances anywhere. Just him, his friend, and the night sky. It filled him with a sense of adventure he couldn't quite describe. Yet, as the kids reached the slope and laid down their backpacks and extremely outdated cell phones for some music, the feeling washing over Kay a minute prior vanished as if it was never there. Jay had grown silent too, probably engrossed in the views and tranquility. A silence stretched and stretched, causing Kay to feel uneasy. It was like he knew they weren't alone. The cross was always open to the public,

as far as they knew, but nobody could be here at this hour, right? They weren't even trespassing or anything, and yet they felt out of place. Kay gulped at the realization and looked around. The story of that tragedy was no news to him, and it was fair to say he had heard it from his grandma more times than he could count. She was only five years old back then, but the stories recounted to her by relatives, always stayed fresh and sharp enough for storytelling.

Despite knowing about the execution and the unjust deaths of 500 souls, Kay never associated that hill with regret or pain. It had never felt off before, like it did now. As his thoughts began to drift, Jay, the chatterbox, whipped his head around. What are you looking at? Kay stood frozen, and it didn't take long for Jay to notice. His eyes widened, body unmoving and stiff, and there it was, the figure of a man, clear as day, walking slowly yet deliberately towards the two boys.

He was as plain as anyone else in the town. but wore a very outdated hat, the likes of which Jay's grandfather never parted with. The two kids stared, not breathing as they watched the man make his way towards them, absolutely frozen in shock. It was a man, a normal man, but what was he doing here at this hour? Kay's mind was a mess, producing a thousand thoughts at once, and, at the same time, processing none. That's when Jay got up from his position and cried out like a wounded cat, grabbing his friend as he ran.

Run! The two kids dashed down the hill blindly, only by miracle avoiding tripping over themselves or over some loose branches. Heaving and panting, they stopped at the foot of the hill and turned back to look in relief. He didn't follow us.

Who even was that? Jay and Kay spoke in a frenzy, their hearts racing. When the two of them managed to catch their breaths, Jay, who for some reason had regained his vigor, turned back to his friend. and said, Do you think we saw a ghost? Kay hesitated, thinking back to the visage of the man.

He looked normal, he finally said, although barely convincing even himself. Yeah, I guess he did. As the two walked back home silently, deciding that was enough, Jay turned on his heel and waved. See you tomorrow. I better get back before they catch on to me and lock me up till you leave. Kay wanted to chuckle at his friend's nose. nonchalant attitude, but he couldn't find the courage. How was he so calm? Maybe that man really was normal. He nodded and went back home too. The next morning, everything seemed the same as ever,

and while Jay acted normally when talking to the other kids in the square, Kay knew last night wouldn't be the end of their adventure. Hey, want to go back there tonight? Sure enough, there was the proposal. Kay wanted to dissuade his danger-ignant friend, but he knew better than to complain. This was Jay after all. Do you really want to get possessed that bad? Nope. Nobody's going to get possessed. Jay shook his head. We might not have seen a ghost after all. Kay raised an eyebrow, amused that Jay had left his weird fixations aside for once. And who was that if not a ghost? Well, there must be an attendant around the monument. There is the chapel close by two, right? Kay was impressed, seeing as how he was,

his friend brought up a valid argument instead of relying on the paranormal to boost their adrenaline. Could be, but how do we know if it is the attendant? We'll figure that out as we go. Let's just meet up around here later tonight, okay? Kay knew it was rather stupid to go back, yet he could also feel the sense of adventure from yesterday, rising within him once more. Okay, let's do it. The two boys had an agreement and the plan was sealed. Later that night, Kay and Jay climbed up the hill just like they did the day prior, albeit a little more cautiously. Nevertheless, they reached their destination all the same. At this time, upon arriving there, Jay whispered, pointing at the figure of the man. It was, in fact, the same man they'd seen yesterday. Kay's heart pounded. No doubt

Jays did too, but the two boys inched closer nonetheless. They had decided, after all, that they would try to take a closer look at the man if he didn't seem hostile towards them, and he didn't. Truth be told, as Kay got closer and closer to the man, the man seemed almost serene. He was sitting down in the grass, looking out in the open, not a care in the world. Upon closer inspection, his clothes, although typical of the folk in such a small town, seemed rather old, and his hat, even more so. As soon as Jay decided that was close enough, he swallowed down the lump in his throat and spoke. Uh, hello? There was a brief pause as he caught his breath. Do you work here? Upon hearing that question, the man finally turned towards the kid. His face was simple, and his expression

tranquil. But beneath his eyes, there was something almost sad, melancholic. I've worked everywhere around these parts was his answer, simple and short. At first, it seemed evasive, but it was clear through his tone that he didn't intend to dodge the subject. He only seemed disconnected, like he didn't want to be there, but at the same time, he didn't know where else to go. Naturally, the two kids did not expect such a reply, and they stopped to think for a moment. Are you always here or just at night? Jay asked again, trying to get the same answer in a roundabout way, I need to go back to my wife and kids soon. When the man spoke again, Kay's heart seemed like it had frozen in place.

He couldn't explain why, but his hair stood up all at once, chills coursing through his body. We need to leave too, Kay spoke softly towards Jay, backing a few steps away and causing Jay to turn and look. He was hesitant, judging by the look he had in his eyes, but ultimately pressed on. Are you from around here? I am, always have been, the man replied. This time merely looking ahead towards the town, a longing, empty gaze piercing through the night all the way to the few lights in town.

Are we disturbing you? Jay's last question left his throat unexpectedly, his eyes almost closing in anticipation. They did. Without another word, Jay's body moved the same way as Kay's, as the kids shuffled away, their eyes wide and skin pale. When had the air grown so thick?

The man didn't turn to look at them as they left. His eyes stayed fixed forward, his body unmoving. When they were out of sight, K and J could not hold back any longer and ran down the cliff back towards town, barely managing not to scream. When the two parted ways as always, even the energetic J had no snarky comment to make. They bid each other good night and went off on their way. Thank God they live so close by, Kay thought after realizing what kind of dread he'd have to endure if he walked in the dark all alone for long. Probably the same feeling of dread that did not leave him all throughout the night.

The tranquil town didn't seem so peaceful in Kay's eyes anymore. The night seemed more eerie than ever, and the cross even more so. The next morning Kay talked about the cross with his grandmother, whose expression was that of more than just reprimand. why did you go up there so late? What did you see? Kay explained everything. The man, the atmosphere, his words, that chilling feeling at the end, that something just wasn't right, and that was when her words shattered all doubt within the young boy. There is no attendant up there. There's no man that would go up there at night besides you silly kids. Then what was it? Kay wanted to ask, but something told him he already knew the answer to that.

All those men 80 years ago left behind many things, families, wealth, all were taken away from them so unjustly. It's only natural they feel lost even after death. Kay was expecting his grandmother to explain to him how ghosts weren't real, how he was hallucinating or something like that. But instead, all her words did was reaffirm what he himself had deduced, that that man should not have been there because that man was dead. That man could not be anywhere else than the crime.

cross because he could never leave and has never left. A couple of days later, Kay left alongside his parents to start up another school year in the city he grew up in. He and Jay spent a few more summers together and made countless other memories. Years later, Kay even visited the cross monument once again and kept going back to enjoy the view. But since that day, he always remembers to hold up a prayer for those that left and for those that couldn't. How many discounts to USAA auto insurance offer? Too many to say here. Multi-vehicle discount. Safe driver discount.

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This should be tons of fun. Marvel television's Daredevil, Born Again, now streaming only on Disney Plus. This episode is brought to you by Beneful. Dogs of the World, lend me your ears, snoots, and little toe beans. We've been sitting and staying for boring food for too long. It's time to demand high-quality ingredients,

fresh from the pantry. Together with Beneful freshly prepared meals, we can start a meal time revolution. Can I get a woof-wof? Kick boring in the bowl with Beneful freshly prepared meals. Visit Purina.com slash Beneful to shop now. I have two stories about my grandma's haunted house involving my cousin Haley and myself.

Sadly, Haley passed away in 2014 in a terrible car accident, so she won't get to hear our stories told, but I'm sure she would have loved the idea of them being shared. First off, Haley and I were always intrigued by ghosts, hauntings, demons. Anything you name it, we were interested in it. We watched a lot of horror movies and TV shows. Her father was big into horror as well, so he usually took us to the theater to see the latest horror movie.

Haley and I even went as far as to create our own horror stories, along with drawing scary pictures to match. We loved the thrill of being scared together, often huddling under the blankets when things became a bit too scary for us. It was mostly fun in games, except for a few instances. My mom never approved of our fascination with the paranormal. We came from a Catholic family that regularly attended church on Sundays and said our prayers every night. I had a lot of nightmares as a child, and she always blamed it on our creepy interests, which only makes sense. Although to this day, I blame most of my fears on our Catholic upbringing.

Now, my grandma's house had a lot of religious idols around the place, and she was Catholic as well. I never minded them. It was normal for us to see a cross in every room. Even though our grandma was religious, she allowed us to watch all the scary movies and shows we could find. She would tell us stories from time to time, one being about how she bought a Ouija board for my aunt for one of her birthdays. Our grandma never went into detail about the use of the board, but she did mention at one point that she had a witch come over to look at the board. I'm not sure why or what the witch did, but our grandma kept the board and hid it away in the attic.

The attic door was one of those old-style pull-down stairs located in the back room of the house. The attic itself had two parts. Half was a room for storage where the Ouija board would be located, and the other half was made into a spare room with two beds. The only way to access the storage part of the attic was through a small wooden door with a sliding wood lock. The first story takes place when Haley and I were around the age of 10. One day we were at our grandma's house during summer, taking a break from playing outside. My grandma was in the living room watching Judge Judy, as she always did in the afternoon.

We came in to get some ice cream and went to the back room, where we would normally watch TV and movies. That day, we were watching a TV show about exorcisms. It was a violent story that had our full attention. Haley and I were glued to the TV, soon forgetting about the world around us. Out of nowhere, we heard a noise, a scraping sound coming from the wall next to the couch. Our trance broke, and we both quickly looked in the direction of the sound. There was a cross hanging on the wall, but it wasn't just hanging there. It was slowly turning until it stopped directly upside down.

Time seemed to slow down as we watched, but somehow it happened so fast too. Haley and I took off screaming, running to get our grandma. We were panicking as we tried to tell her what happened with the cross. Our grandma got up to check out the cross, and we followed reluctantly. We all made it to the back room to find the cross now lying on the floor. Our grandma picked it up, looking at it. She told us there was no way it could have turned and hung upside down, for it had only been stuck to the wall with blue sticky putty.

Haley and I looked at the cross in disbelief, wondering how this could have happened. I'm not sure if she ever believed us, but Grandma took the cross and went back to watch her show in the living room, leaving us alone in the back room. We never did get a solid answer to what happened. I'm still wondering about it to this day. Now this is about my second story,

Fast forward a few years, Haley and I were about 13 years old. Our cousins were staying the night at our grandma's house along with us. We were all huddled together in the back room watching one missed call. The movie had ended, and most of our cousins had fallen asleep during the film. It was late, so Haley and I decided it was time to go to bed. We wanted to sleep in the attic, so we pulled down the stairs that led up to the attic room with the beds. Haley had a hard time falling asleep, so she often listened to music before going to bed. We said good night to each other before she put her headphones on.

I fell asleep almost instantly. I was completely out when suddenly I woke up to all the air being knocked out of my chest. I couldn't breathe, so I quickly sat up in bed, only to see the small wooden attic door to the storage room being shoved open with such force it hit the wall. Haley had been awake still and saw everything. I caught my breath and looked at her. She screamed at me, asking if I was okay. I didn't say a word before climbing out of bed and rushing down the stairs as Haley followed me.

We found a different room where we slept on the floor. There was no way we were going to sleep in that attic. The next day we told no one what happened. We didn't even check to see if that old wooden door was still open. Once again we had no explanation for the event that happened to us. I'll never forget it either, the way the air felt like it was sucked right out of me, the way I gasped to catch my breath while seeing that door being flung wide open. The only thing I take from our experiences is that if you go looking for paranormal things,

you will not find them so much as they'll find you. My name is John Prescott, and I live in a small town called Pelham. It's a pretty place, especially in the fall when the leaves turn bright, orange and red. I teach history at the local high school, and I love telling stories about our town's past. But right now, I'm not feeling like telling any stories. Right now, I'm worried because something terrible has happened. It all started on a chilly autumn evening. The house felt extra empty and quiet, which isn't usual because it's normally filled with the sound of my daughter Emily laughing or talking. As I walked through the house, the old wooden floors

creaked under my feet. I forgot to turn off the coffee machine again, and the smell of burnt coffee hung in the air. It was just one of those days where everything felt off. Emily had stormed out earlier that day. We had a big argument about a sleepover she wanted to go to, but I said no. She yelled that she hated me before slamming the door. I thought she would come back after cooling down as she usually did. But hours passed, and there was no sign of her. My heart sank deeper with each tick of the clock. Outside the wind was howling, making the colorful autumn leaves dance wildly. It seemed like even nature was upset.

My wife, Sarah, looked as worried as I felt. We both hadn't slept well, thinking about where Emily could be. I kept looking at the door, hoping she would walk through it any minute, but she didn't. Sarah and I decided to call Chief Parker, the police chief of Pelham. He's a serious man who has always taken care of our town's problems. Soon, he was at our doorstep with a concerned look on his face. John, Sarah, I understand how tough this must be. We'll start searching right away.

Don't worry, we'll find Emily, Chief Parker assured us. Hearing his confident words made me feel a little better, but my stomach was still in knots. The whole town came together to help look for Emily. It felt good to see everyone caring so much. But as the sun's set with no sign of her, my hope started to fade. Pelham may look like a perfect postcard town, but it has its secrets. I've spent years digging into our town's history, and I know stories that never made it into the guidebooks.

Some of those stories are about blackwood forest, the thick woods that surround our town. Strange things have happened there, and now I feared Emily might have gone into that forest. That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I had a strange vision. It was of a dark cave and Emily smiling, but there was something wrong with her eyes. It was just a flash, but it felt real. I knew then that I had to go into Blackwood Forest. Whatever secrets it held, I needed to find out if it had taken my daughter. I couldn't stop pacing, couldn't stop thinking. The house creaked, the wind howled, and somewhere deep in the forest, I imagined Emily was out there, waiting for us to find her, and find her we would.

I wouldn't rest until we brought her home, safe and sound. The next few days felt like a blur. Our whole town of Pelham was on edge, looking for any sign of Emily. The forest at the edge of town, Blackwood Forest, was a scary place, filled with old stories and legends that made even the bravest adults hesitate before entering. One morning, something strange. happened. People who had disappeared from our town years ago started coming back, but they were different. They looked the same, but when you looked into their eyes, it felt like they

weren't really seeing you. They stood at the edge of town, not really talking, just there. It was eerie, and it made everyone even more worried. Chief Parker called a meeting at the town hall. He explained that these people who had come back were a mystery and that we needed to be careful. We don't know what happened to them in the forest, he said. His voice serious and a little scared. That's when I knew this was bigger than just a search for Emily. Something strange was happening in Blackwood Forest. After the meeting, I went home and told Sarah about what the chief had said. We were both scared, but we knew we had to keep looking for Emily. We couldn't just wait and hope she would come back like the others, not when she might be lost or scared. That night, I had another vision. It was

clearer this time. I saw Emily sitting in a dark cave, surrounded by shadows. She looked calm, but it was the calmness that scared me. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, which looked different, like they knew something they shouldn't. I woke up sweating and shaking. I told Sarah about the vision, and we decided it was a sign. We had to go to the forest and find that cave. Maybe it was the key to finding Emily and bringing her back to us. The next day, we gathered a group of volunteers. Some were friends, some were neighbors, and a few were brave souls who just wanted to help. Chief Parker tried to talk us out of it, but when he saw we were determined, he agreed to lead the way. He knew the forest better than anyone. As we entered Blackwood Forest, a chill ran through me.

The trees were so tall and close together that very little sunlight made it through. The deeper we went, the darker it got, and the more I felt like the forest was. watching us. We searched for hours, calling Emily's name and looking for any sign of the cave from my vision. Just as we were about to give up for the day, one of the volunteers shouted. He had found something. It was a small clearing. And there, right in the middle, was the mouth of a cave. My heart raced as we approached it. This was it. This was the place from my vision. I felt both scared and hopeful. Could Emily really be in there? What if she was? What if she wasn't?

As we stood at the entrance of the cave, I took a deep breath. Emily, I called into the darkness. There was no answer, just the echo of my own voice. But I knew we had to go in. We had to find out what had happened to my daughter. Whatever it took, I was ready. This was the moment we had been preparing for. Standing at the entrance of the cave,

my heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. Sarah, Chief Parker, and a couple of brave volunteers were with me. We all shared nervous glances, knowing we were about to step into the unknown. This cave might hold the answers about Emily and the other strange happenings around Pelham. With flashlights in hand we entered the cave. The air inside was cool and damp, and it sent shivers down my spine. The walls were rough and covered in some areas with strange mossy growths that felt like they were watching us. As we moved deeper into the cave, I noticed weird symbols scratched onto the walls.

They looked old, maybe even ancient. These symbols, I whispered to Chief Parker. They look like the ones in those old town records I found. Chief Parker nodded, his face serious. Let's keep moving, he said. But everyone, stay close. We can't afford to get lost in here. The deeper we went, the more the atmosphere changed.

It wasn't just dark. It felt heavy, like the air itself was pressing down on us. Every now and then, we would hear strange sounds echoing through the cave, sounds that didn't seem like they belonged to any animal I knew. Then, it happened. As we rounded a corner, we saw a faint light ahead. It wasn't from our flashlights. It was different, eerie, and blue. We approached slowly, and that's when we saw her. Emily was there, sitting cross-legged at the entrance of a smaller chamber within the cave. She looked up as we approached and she smiled, but it was not the warm, loving smile I remembered.

This smile was different, almost too perfect. You found me, she said in a voice that echoed oddly against the stone walls. Emily! Sarah cried out, rushing forward, but I grabbed her arm to hold her back. Something wasn't right. Yes, it's me, Emily continued. standing up. Her movements were smooth, too smooth. But I'm not the same, Daddy. I've seen things, learned things, things that you wouldn't believe. I swallowed hard trying to find the words. Emily, we need to go home. We miss you. We need you. Emily tilted her head, considering my words

as if they were a puzzle. Home? She echoed. This is home now. The forest, the cave. They've shown me so much. Behind us, Chief Parker signaled us to be cautious. He whispered, John, we need to be careful. We don't fully understand what's happened to her. I nodded, understanding the risk. Emily, whatever you've seen or learned, we can talk about it. Just come back with us. Please. For a moment, something flickered in Emily's eyes, a hint of the daughter I knew. I want to, Daddy, I really do, but I can't. Not yet. It was hard. It was hard. heartbreaking. Here she was, right in front of us, but still so far away. I stepped closer, reaching out to her. Then we'll wait. We'll be here when you're ready. Emily smiled again,

that strange, unsettling smile. Thank you, Daddy. I love you. As we left the cave, leaving Emily behind for now, the weight of the situation settled over me. We hadn't truly brought Emily back, but we had found her. And maybe, just maybe, there was still hope that one day she would return to us, truly herself again. As we walked back through the forest, the morning light began to filter through the trees. It was a new day, and with it came a new determination. We would find a way to help Emily, no matter what it took. Wireless can feel like a world of traps, but not with visible. It's one-line wireless with unlimited data and hotspot, powered by Verizon for $25 a month. Taxes and fees included. Plus,

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