Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 8 True Scary Summer Camping & Fishing Horror Stories

Episode Date: July 5, 2024

Get Magic Mind today at: ⁠https://magicmind.com/creepy⁠ You have a limited offer you can use now, that gets you up to 48% off your first subscription or 20% off one-time purchases with code CREEPY20 at checkout. These are 8 True Scary Summer Camping & Fishing Horror Stories 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 00:08:37 Story 2 00:20:07 Story 3 00:28:08 Story 4 00:35:58 Story 5 00:43:08 Story 6 00:48:22 Story 7 00:55:23 Story 8 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 #camping #fishing 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

all pay off your home travel for life drive a Ferrari in celebration of the world premiere of the monopoly big board buck slot machine by aristocrat gaming yamava resort and casino at san manuel is giving one person a 1.6 million dollar dream package the biggest prize in yamava's history club sorano members can earn daily instant prize can earn daily instant prizes and secure a spot in the finale May 29. Don't pass go and own it all. Only at Yamava, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You win? Details at yamava.com must be 21-20. Please gamble responsibly. Monopoly is a trademark of Hasbro. Hasbro is not a sponsor of this promotion. I'm part of a volunteer search and rescue organization. And every year our group takes part in a late summer retreat filled with team building and bonding exercises. One of these exercises involves night training, which, as you can probably imagine, involves

practicing our search and rescue skills after dark. My specific job title is SNR K-9 handler, which sort of encompasses why I joined in the first place. I always wanted to work with animals, but never had the grades to study to be a vet. Joining as a dog handler meant the best of both worlds. I could do something constructive and contributive with my spare time while playing with dogs. I use the word play very loosely here, but you get the idea. Anyway, we were out on night exercises when my dog, trained to find human remains, started to alert us to a scent. I was partnered with a more senior member of the team at the time, but when I looked to them for some guidance, she basically said, let's just go with it. Now, I'm sure a lot of you are thinking, your dog picked up

the scent of human remains. Why weren't you freaking out? Well, the answer to that is simple. Even the most highly trained cadaver dogs get things wrong sometimes. In a place like Washington, where we get California's annual rainfall on a Tuesday, damp scents can often confuse H.R.D. or human-remain detection dogs. So when my dog started to alert, our policy was basically just to let him do his thing, because the best-case scenario is a false positive, and the very worst-case scenario, we find some previously unearthed human remains, which, as horrifying as that may be, was obviously a major part of our job.

So the senior team member and I agreed to part ways temporarily. She'd wait on the trail while my dog and I went off to follow the scent he'd picked up. Since we both figured it was just a false positive, it would only be a matter of minutes before my dog lost the scent, and then we'd be back on the trail and on our planned route before we knew it. But then, a few minutes turned into like ten minutes of walking through the dark wood, and after my dog started to lead me down a fairly steep slope, I lost my footing and took a really nasty fall. The next thing I know, my chest is on fire, probably from the two broken ribs

I'd just sustained, and I could feel blood oozing from where I'd bashed my head on a rock on the way down. The first thing I did was press the emergency alert on my GPS, which signals the base camp that one of the team needs assistance. The second thing I did was start calling out for my dog because I'd lost control of his leash during the fall, which I think scared him so badly that he ran off, or he just mindlessly followed the scent trail thinking that I was still following close behind. Now, as you can probably figure, I was not feeling like my best self. I was in agony, confused, and having dropped my flashlight as well as the leash during the fall down the slope, I couldn't see very well either. I just lay there, calling out of the last. I just lay there, calling out of the

out for Brody, hoping that base camp had someone closing in on my position so I could get to the damn hospital already. I don't know exactly how long I was lying there before someone showed up, but when I heard footsteps getting closer and closer, I felt this wave of relief washing over me. I started to call out something like, I'm here, I think I broke something, assuming it was a fellow SNR volunteer. But the second I heard their voice, I knew that they weren't with our group. Like I said, we do all kinds of icebreakers and bonding exercises every year. There tends to be a couple of new volunteers, but the voice I heard that night didn't belong to a long-term team member,

and it didn't belong to the new girl or new guy either, as we only had two new faces on the team that year. It was a man's voice, and when they started talking instead of directly helping me, I swear it sent this chill of fright running right through me. The voice most definitely belonged to a man, and they started talking about how I was in a dry creek bed, one that dozens of people fall into every year. He went on to say that at least one person dies there every year, thanks to the flash floods the place sees during the rainy season.

Someone falls, they get stuck, and then they drown. I went from asking for help to literally begging for it, but the guy just completely ignored my requests and carried on giving his little speech about how often folks go missing or lose their lives out in that area of the woods. I remember losing my temper and asking, What the hell is wrong with you? When he replied with something like, You're not in the position to talk to me like that,

I started to scream. Not wild screams of fright, but help. Somebody help, over and over, while I tried and failed to reach for my flashlight. I also cannot overstate how goddamn painful that was. Having to scream when doing so made the burning pain in my chest feel so much worse. And around about that time I started to hear my dog Brody calling out for me.

He's part Australian Shepherd and a very vocal dog. So I started to hear a series of AOOs and trills and rolled barks, all of which tended to mean hurry or butt up, human. As soon as Brody started making those noises, the shadowy figure stopped talking. And then as we both started to hear the sound of Brody getting closer and closer, I heard that guy's footsteps as he made a hasty retreat. I think maybe a minute or two later, I started hearing more footsteps, only they were from multiple

people this time, and they came with flashlights. I called out for help one more time, and the next thing I know, two of my fellow volunteers are walking up the creek bed, and one shines their flashlight right on me. My first thought was to tell them about the guy that had just been talking to me, the one that had talked about the accidental deaths in a way that made me think that they weren't so accidental. I know that might sound kind of crazy, but the way he talked about them, like those deaths made him happy, was one of the creepiest encounters of my entire life. So yeah, I told my two rescuers about the stranger, and one of the first things they did before administering first aid was to make sure that he was actually gone.

One guy shone his flashlight all around while the other started asking me, Were you pushed? And both later said that they were scared that that creepy guy had been the cause of my injuries. Hence, one asked if I was pushed or not, and then asked if I was sure about that when I said no. Don't get me wrong. I was terrified that he was about to do something, especially since I was basically incapable of getting away from him. But he didn't cause me to slip. He was just there to see it or maybe hear it.

But that obviously raises the question of what the hell he was doing out there in the first place. My two teammates then kept me company until the medic showed up with an ATV and a backboard that they could attach a stretch or to. I was then slowly driven back to base camp, given a quick look over, and then we headed over to a very rural medical clinic. Once we figured out my ribs were broken, once I'd been given some pain medication, and the doctors told my team leaders I was stable. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and a bunch of my fellow volunteers came to visit me in the morning to see how I was doing. And that's when I finally got a chance to tell everyone about the guy that had showed up in the minutes after my fall, and how his warnings sounded an awful lot like thinly veiled threats. About a week later, after I'd been discharged from the hospital when I was safely back at home,

I got a call from that same senior team member I'd been with before my fall. She asked how I was doing, how my recovery was progressing, and stuff like that, and she then told me that the team leaders were discussing a change of locations for the following year's retreat. A couple of other team members had reported someone walking around in the dark, someone who definitely wasn't a volunteer, and that after talking it over, they decided that safety was paramount, and that they'd be looking at alternative locations. In the words of one team leader, a second run-in with that creepy shadowy stranger was not something they were willing to risk.

For winter break one year, we packed up and headed to my hometown, a small island in West Asia that is not very well known. There, I met my uncle. In fact, this is his encounter, not mine. He'd been at sea ever since he was about 18 and was 35 when he first told me this. He's seen many things out there, and please keep in mind that these are his words translated into English. The story is told from his perspective.

Winter might be the worst time to be at sea, even though it is much warmer here than in other places. It still gets quite bad, especially for first-time fishermen, but the worst part is that it was squid season, and the deck smells terrible no matter how much you clean it. Unlike Chinese vessels, we only stay at sea for 45 days, but that doesn't make it any better. Your position changes each time you sign up with the fishing company, but if you're new, you're most likely to work as a cook or just cut squid. Regardless of all that, there was always one unsolicited rule. If you see anything, say nothing. That goes for anything out of the ordinary.

Because legend has it, there are things in the sea that love to be talked about. Of course, when I was new, I didn't know that, but I wish I did. Beyond the deck being stinky as usual, when you get homesick as a newbie, trying to spot land makes you feel better somewhat. At least that was my case. It was near sunset that day, as I recall, but it was already very dark. The sun was completely gone, and it was a little misty. I was kind of frustrated with it all, to be honest.

I just wanted to make some cash. At the start, I thought it would be easy. Just cook some food and cut some squid. Can't be that hard. That's what I always told myself before signing up. But there I was. I could only sigh and turn away to keep myself from puking from the smell. Then I heard something.

I paused for a second, not sure of what I actually heard. It was like some kind of knocking, the kind of knock you'd hear when someone's in hurry. I brushed it off as a crewman knocking on the door, even though I knew that knocking on metal doors sounded way different, it clearly sounded like hurried wooden knocks. The knocks made me feel a little scrupulous because each time I would hear five knocks, and when it finished, I thought it would be leaving or gone, only to start again, five distinct knocks, the last one always being the strongest. I was curious at the time to see what caused this strange noise. I feared it might an issue with the vessel, but I wasn't really familiar with the mechanism and structure of it.

I was careful not to get too close to the railing, just in case. I inched closer, trying to peek over the edge carefully. Then I saw something in my peripheral vision. It didn't look exactly like a fish, but it did look fishy at the same time, if that makes sense. It had no scales, but somehow it looked like it reflected light. It was visible in the barely lit water, a distinct silver color, and its body was about eight feet long. I thought it might have been a big fish of some sort, maybe a shark, but I was proven

wrong when I saw what was supposed to be its head. Its head was like a fox's, with no fur, and its limbs. They weren't tentacles or anything like that. They were human-like, four of them. The thing gave off a smell like rusty iron, somehow worse than the smell of the deck itself, And I wanted to puke again, and this time there was no holding it back. I grabbed the iron railing as tightly as I could, and let it all out. The heaving made the walls of my stomach burn.

I then heard a ringing in my ear. I don't remember what happened after that, but I do remember that the thing was gone next I looked. Now I wasn't aware of the unspoken rules of these vessels, so as soon as I saw another crewman, I knew I had to pull him to the side and say something. He was an old man and had plenty of years of experience out at sea. I'll call him Ivan. Ivan was usually the captain during the squid fishing season, but he had recently had a head injury and could no longer do that anymore, but he still insisted that he accompany the vessel this season as well. The fishing company knew him well, and out of respect they fulfilled his request.

Hey man, I think I saw something, I said. He must have seen how pale I looked. He looked even more concerned. What's up? You look like you're going to wet your sheets tonight. Yvonne was the kind to always joke, even in the most serious of moments, even if his jokes weren't funny at all. Well, I saw something in the water.

It was silvery and was huge, at least eight feet, I told him, and he stopped laughing. I saw Ivan's expression harden. He was no longer smiling, no longer revealing his few missing teeth. He looked serious. It's pretty.

Probably because you're new. Young ones especially tend to imagine things the first time. Just say your prayers and sleep for the night. But before that, find someone who's willing to do cooking duty instead of you. I wasn't imagining things, Ivan, and I've already said a prayer. I'm sure that I saw something in the water, something that wasn't normal. I tried to defend my claims against Ivan. I felt irritable for some reason.

My stomach was hurting and growling now that it was empty, which made me even more annoyed. Listen, I'm not saying you're lying, it's just you look tired as heck. Ivan's usually friendly tone took a more deep turn, then his expression looked as if he was scolding me. That night, I didn't feel like myself. All I could think about was that weird silvery thing in the water. No matter how much I tossed and turned in the bed, it didn't work. I just kept thinking about it over and over,

and I was irritated at Ivan, a feeling of betrayal of sorts. even though Ivan didn't really do anything wrong. Now, in that vessel, we had no actual beds, just a couple of sheets under our bags, a sheet over us, and an old pillow. Each room was filled with six to eight people, and to my bad luck, most of them were on duty that night and had come back smelling like squids, which basically smells like urine. The feeling of unease combined with that stench in the room made me get up from my sheets at last,

and walk towards the door, careful not to step on someone's arms or legs by accident and wake them up. I successfully made my way to the deck. There, I found Ivan standing by the railing of the vessel, mumbling something that I could not hear. I didn't get too close to him, but he did stop, and he looked at me. He continued to mumble as he did so. I could hear it better now.

It was some sort of prayer, I think. Ivan looked fairly tired. His eyes were red as if he hadn't slept for days. I checked the water myself for the strange thing I saw earlier, as if I was eager or longing to see it again. Are you looking for it? Ivan stopped praying and looked at me, but his eyes were unexplainable,

as if he were looking for something behind me, not looking at me. It felt as if I was dreaming. Ivan's bloodshot eyes snapped me awake. Then I didn't say anything. I remember feeling a bit embarrassed. actually. I quickly ran back to the squid-smelling room. Something didn't feel right. It was as if everyone knew something and kept me in the dark. Hopefully, it was the last days of the squid season,

so I wouldn't have to spend too much time with Ivan on the same vessel, even during cooking duty or any duty at all. I figured that I would no longer talk to Ivan, at least until we got back to land. But when we did, I was far too tired to do that. I tried not to think about the incident for a week or so. However, the day I needed to confront him and ask him about that night was the day my mom shook me awake and said that old Ivan had died of a heart attack. Now, our island isn't too big, it doesn't have too many towns. It was only natural for people to know each other quite well. The old man Ivan was the first person to introduce me to the fishing vessel company, telling me it was the best way to get started with making money, and now he was dead before he could ever teach me

much about the sea. On occasion, I think about the thing I saw back in the sea, but that wasn't the last time I saw it. Sometimes I still need money here and there, and I sign up for the same company, and every now and then, I do see that thing in the land again. Even if you see things that are unexplainable, it's important that you act like you never did, and continue on with your duties. I finally then knew the spoken rule of the vessel. If you see anything, say, say, nothing. Hey everyone, if you've been following along, you know that today marks day 14 of my magic mind journey, and I'm here to share all the details with you. Let's dive into how the last two weeks have been transformative for my mental clarity, focus, and overall well-being. Two

weeks ago, I started my day with my first shot of magic mind, curious, and a bit skeptical about whether a small drink could really impact my productivity and mental state. And folks, the changes I've noticed have genuinely surprised me. Let's talk specifics. Before starting magic mind, I often hit that midday slump, you know, when your energy just crashes and it feels almost impossible to focus. By day seven, I noticed those slumps were less frequent. Now, at day 14, they've almost disappeared. It's like my energy levels have not just stabilized, they're optimized. One of the key players here is the time-released caffeine, combined with L-theonine from the grade matcha in magic mind. This isn't just about blocking tiredness. It's about enhancing your

brain's natural capacities without the jittery side effects of normal caffeine. And it's not just about energy. My focus and motivation have skyrocketed. Tasks that would typically drag on or get postponed are now done quicker and with more enjoyment. It's like my brain has this new kind of clarity and calmness, thanks to the adaptogens and no tropics in this little mental performance shot. I've been tracking my progress, and here's what stood out. Increased mental clarity, enhanced focus, significantly reduced stress, and a surprisingly elevated mood throughout the day. So here's my day 14 takeaway.

If you're thinking about giving Magic Mind a try, I say go for it. Whether you're dealing with distractions, stress, or just looking for that mental edge, this could be what you need to push through those barriers. I'm excited to see where this goes, and I'll be sharing updates at the end of each week. If you're curious and want to join me in this 30-day challenge, check out the link in the description, or go to magicmind.com forward slash creepy. You have a limited time offer you can use now that gets you up to 48% off your first subscription or 20% off one-time purchases with code Creepy 20 at checkout. Now back to the stories. This is a Bose moment. It's 10 blocks from the train to your apartment door.

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It was early October when Dad decided that a trip into the wilderness might finally get us back on the same page. Fresh air will do us both some good, he'd said, a hopeful glint in his eye that I hadn't seen in years. Mom had been the architect of this plan, her worry lines deepening every time Dad and I clashed over dinner or a passing comment that neither of us could let slide. I packed my gear into the back of Dad's old Chevy, the truck still holding remnants of our past trips, fishing hooks, a stained map of the Big Horn Mountains, and a dog-eared wildlife guide that I remembered pouring over as a kid.

The drive was supposed to take five hours, but with Dad, it always took life. longer. He liked to take the scenic roots, claiming that the highways robbed a man of good views and better reflections. The road snaked through rising foothills and expansive plains that stretched out like a canvas. Dad didn't talk much during the drive, his eyes fixed on the road, only breaking the silence to point out a hawk circling above or a herd of deer that watched us from a safe distance. I tried to appreciate the piece, the way the golden autumn light filtered through the Aspins, turning their leaves into flames against the crisp blue sky. But there was a tension between us, palpable and heavy, like the clouds that rolled over the mountains ahead, promising storms.

When we finally turned off the main road onto a gravel track that crunched under the Chevy's tires, the scenery shifted. The trees crowded closer, their branches arching over us like a welcome, or a warning. Dad's expression softened as he rolled down his window, letting in the cool, pine-scented air. Smell that, Nate? That's the smell of no cell service and no distractions, just us and nature. We reached the lake just past noon, the water a perfect mirror reflecting the rugged peaks that surrounded us. It was breathtaking, untouched, and wild, just like the postcards that used to make me dream of adventures. We unloaded our gear and set up camp in a clearing, the grass soft and thick underfoot, a perfect cushion for our tent.

Fishing was up first. We grabbed our rods and headed to the lake's edge. The calmness of the water was a stark contrast to the usual turbulence between us. Dad showed me how to tie the fly, his hands steady, and sure. Remember, it's all in the wrist, he instructed, his voice more patient than I'd heard in years. We didn't talk much as we cast our lines, the silence between us now comfortable, filled only with the rhythmic sounds of our reels, and the occasional call of a loon in the distance. When I finally felt a strong tug, Dad was beside me in an instant, guiding, advising, and when I reeled in a hefty thrashing bass, his laughter echoed around the lake, genuine and joyful. We'll eat well tonight, he said, clapping me on the back as we

walked to our campsite with our prize. We set the fish aside and got a fire going, the crackle and pop of the flames a soundtrack to our quiet camaraderie. As the shadows grew longer and merged into dusk, dad started to talk about his childhood, stories I had heard fragments of, but never fully pieced together. There was a softness to him that evening, a nostalgia that made him seem less like the stern father I battled daily, and more like a man who had dreams and disappointments, just like anyone else. As the first stars appeared, I realized that maybe this trip wasn't just about fishing or escaping mom's worried glances. It was about understanding, maybe forgiving. And as we sat by the fire, the wilderness not just around us but somehow between us, it felt like we might actually

get there. The morning sun filtered through the dense canopy as dad and I packed up our rifles in gear for a day of deer hunting. The forest seemed to wake up with us, a chorus of birds singing from the trees, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the night before. Dad seemed more relaxed, almost cheerful, as we trekked deeper into the woods to a spot he'd scouted on our last trip. Deer liked to graze along the ridge in the morning. We'll have a good chance if we're quiet, he whispered, his voice blending with the rustle of leaves underfoot. I nodded. following his lead, appreciating the expertise he brought to these moments. It was a skill honed before I was born, a connection to the land that he was passing down to me,

despite our usual discord. The ridge gave us a perfect vantage point, and soon enough, a group of deer appeared, cautiously stepping into the clearing below. We watched, breaths held, as Dad lined up a shot, his rifle steady and practiced hands. The crack of the rifle split the morning. stillness, and one of the deer fell. We tracked a second one for a few hours before Dad took another clean shot, adding to our provisions. By the time we returned to camp, loaded down with our bounty, the woods were alive with sounds, an orchestra of nature that seemed to play just for us.

We were tired but exhilarated, sharing a sense of accomplishment as we prepared the deer, the camp filled with the rich earthy scent of cooking meat. As dusk approached, the forest's ambiance shifted, the lively chatter of daytime creatures gave way to an unsettling quiet, and a prickling sense of being watched crawled up my spine. Dad noticed it too. His eyes narrowed, scanning the tree line as we ate. This is different, he muttered, his voice low. I could only nod, feeling the weight of the silence that settled over us, dense and foreboding. The darkness deepened, and we retreated to our tent, the day's fatigue pulling us towards sleep. Yet, just as I began to drift off, the crunch of footsteps near our tent jerked me awake.

Dad was already up, his hand on his rifle, eyes wide in the dim light. Something's out there, he whispered. We moved quietly, cautiously unzipping the tent to peer into the night. The beam of our flashlights cut through the blackness, revealing nothing at first. Then, something massive shifted in the shadows. It was a creature I couldn't have imagined in my wildest fears, a beast covered in patchy fur, its eyes reflecting our lights with a menacing red and yellow glow. It stood, improbably on two legs, towering over the underbrush.

Its howl ripped through the silence, a sound so alien and terrifying it froze my blood. Without thinking, Dad and I fired. The shots echoed, deafening in the enclosed space of the room. the forest. The creature staggered but didn't fall, instead howling again, a sound that made every instinct scream to flee. Dad grabbed my arm, pulling me back as the creature charged. We ran, stumbling through the dark to the truck, the beast's heavy steps thundering behind us. Dad shoved me into the passenger seat, slamming the door just as a massive rock crashed against the truck, nearly shattering the window. He started the engine, and we tore out of there,

The truck's headlights bobbing wildly as we bounced over the rough track. We didn't stop until we reached the safety of a hotel miles away, where we collapsed into a room, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from our veins. That night, neither of us spoke of what we saw. The unspoken agreement heavy between us as we lay awake, listening to the sounds of a normal world outside, a world that now felt infinitely safer than the one we had escaped. You said this place was steps from the water.

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My name is Chris. I'm a longtime fan from Melbourne, Australia, and the story I've got for you actually involves your YouTube channel, just creepy, in a sort of roundabout way. I met my girlfriend in May of 2019, and it was she who introduced me to your videos. I'm not going to lie. At first, I did think it was a bit weird that scary stories seemed to help her fall asleep. But after a while, I started to see the appeal, and we'd often put on a video while doing the dishes after dinner. This became something of a long-time ritual for us. Then, sometime in late February the following year, we were listening to some of your camping stories

when my girlfriend suggested that we pay a visit to the one in Gada Valley. Gada Valley is about a four-hour drive out of Melbourne, and it's a fairly popular destination for hikers and campers. I know it probably makes us sound a bit mental to listen to a load of scary camping stories and then be like, well, that sounds like a good time, sign me up. but we're actually aware of how rare any kind of rural crime is. We didn't feel like we would be in any danger, and we weren't, in all fairness.

But then, at the same time, that makes what I'm about to tell you pretty bloody ironic. So, we drove out to Wanda Dada, and I remember the exact date being the 21st of March 2020. We bought a load of camping gear online, and we're looking for a good spot to pitch our tents when we came across a couple of other campers. They were standing just off the trail, and about 10 to 15 meters away was a burned-out utility vehicle, and what looked like the charred remains of a tent. There was a man and a woman there, fairly young-looking,

and the man was pacing back and forth with his phone to his ear, looking majorly concerned. My first thought was that these guys had accidentally set their tent or yute on fire, which had then caused the other to catch fire. God knows how they might have managed that, but figuring out exactly what had happened wasn't the first thing on our minds. We just wanted to make sure that the couple was all right. As we were walking up the trail, the guy thanked whoever he was talking to on his phone, and then just hung up, just in time to greet us as we got closer.

It turns. It wasn't their campsite. They had just come across it at the same time as we did, and figured they'd report it since it was obviously fresh. We could smell that charred kind of burn smell from all the way over on the trail, so he was right when he said that it must have been fresh. But the guy said that there was some untouched food lying around too, recently purchased stuff, which made him think that it wasn't just some teenagers looking to destroy the evidence of their last night's joyride.

The bloke had actually been on the phone to the coppers right as we turned up, which was obviously the right thing to do. But since someone was already dealing with it, my girl and I just kept on walking after wishing the other couple good luck. It sounds crazy looking back on it, but at the time, we didn't think there was anything sinister going on. What it looked like was that there had been some kind of horrible accident, and someone was potentially hurt.

There were no signs of a struggle, no blood, or any other sort of human remains. It didn't look like what it was. Not long after we got back, my girlfriend sent me a link on Facebook to a local news story. The burned-out ute and tent that we'd come across belonged to an elderly couple who had been out camping just like we had. But instead of getting the help they needed, they hadn't shown up anywhere at all, and they were still considered missing people. There was a big appeal for information, so obviously, my girlfriend and I got in touch to offer our services. But to be honest, I'm not sure that we were of much help at all. We'd been in the valley for two nights, but aside from the run-in with the couple in the burned tents,

We hadn't heard or seen anything even remotely suspicious. For a while, we started to worry that the couple that we'd seen might have been involved in some way. I mean, we just rocked up and asked if they needed any help, and then walked off after a quick chat. The bloke told me that he'd been on the phone with the emergency services, but I had no way of knowing that for certain. We'd mentioned them to the police when we called them,

and they told us they'd already talked extensively to the person who made the call, but they didn't tell us exactly when the call was made, nor did they give us any details about the person who had made it. Spoilers, but we really were just being a bit overly paranoid because the couple we bumped into had nothing to do with the missing people, and we found that out for certain about 18 months later when the bodies of the missing couple finally showed up. It was sad, and I hate to sound harsh here or whatever, but it wasn't really a surprise to me or my girlfriend. This poor old couple had gone missing after some kind of accidental fire had inflicted God knows what kind of injuries to them. It seemed like they'd gotten lost,

gotten hurt, or even worse. Then sadly, they'd succumbed to the elements and passed away. I remember my girlfriend saying that, like, say they'd been in the tent whilst it was on fire, they could have inhaled all kinds of nasty smoke on the way out, not to mention getting burned, and then those burns getting infected or something. It was just an all-around horrible, tragic way to go out, and we really felt for the couple. But then the news broke that it hadn't been any kind of accident at all. The elderly couple had been murdered, and their Ute and tent had been burned to get rid of any physical evidence their killer might have left behind. Knowing we'd come across the scene of a murder like that, and in complete ignorance too, was chilling.

According to things we read online, the murder had taken place not even 24 hours. before we arrived. If we'd left the day before, we might have even seen them hanging around their little campsite. We might have even swapped a good day or two going past. Or, at the very best, maybe the trail being a bit busier might have saved their lives. We felt terrible for their families, for their friends, but at the same time, we couldn't help but wonder about the gorye details. Call it morbid curiosity, but my girl and I were pretty desperate to know what had happened to that poor old couple. I mean, we spent two nights in the valley after they were killed. So were we in any danger at all? Was someone just hunting people at random? Or had it been some

kind of personal thing? As it turns out, it was neither of those things. It wasn't some psycho-serial killer stalking the valley for victims, nor had the killer and his victims ever laid eyes on each other before the murders happened because of an argument that started over a bloody drone. The whole thing is going through the courts now, or at least it was when I had the idea to write this all up and send it over to you. I tell you to look it up for yourself, but it's as confusing as it is depressing. The killer's defense lawyers are saying that his victim pointed a gun at him, and that he somehow managed to rush the guy, grab the gun, and then killed the elderly couple, both man and wife, before he burned all the evidence. He even

burned their bodies too, and there's court testimony of him saying how he felt terrible for doing it, how he vomited from the smell, all this stuff trying to make him seem like a victim of the whole thing too. It's just gross, man. But anyways, all the best with your channel and all that, and best of luck in the future. I don't know when this bloke's going to be sentenced or whatever, but I hope it's for a bloody long time. Fancy killing someone over a drone. It hardly bears thinking about. It was another scorching summer day in northeast Pennsylvania, the kind of heat that clung to you like a second skin, making every task feel like a marathon. I sat slumped in my chair, a fan buzzing uselessly in the corner of the room, and tried to muster the energy to do something, anything,

other than wilt. But as the sunlight poured in, relentless and unyielding, I knew the outdoors beckoned. After all, today was my day off, and despite the heat, the light, the light of the light lake was calling. I live about an hour and a half's drive from Narrowsburg, New York, where my favorite fishing spot awaited me. On any normal day, I'd be out there by dawn, rod in hand, ready to wrestle with the day's catch. But today had been different. Today the air was so thick and hot, it felt like moving through soup. I waited, hoping for a reprieve. As the sun began to dip slightly in the sky, a plan formed in my mind. Maybe it'll cool off by evening, I mused aloud, speaking to no one in particular. My fishing gear was already packed and ready, a constant in the

trunk of my car. Decision made, I felt a spark of excitement. Fishing in the evening wasn't my usual routine, but perhaps the change would do me good. I dressed quickly, grabbing my kayak's keys and a cooler. The drive to the lake was quiet and contemplative. The roads were familiar, each turn bringing me closer to my sanctuary. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, a beautiful backdrop to my growing anticipation. Arriving at the lake, I unloaded my kayak with practiced ease. The air was cooler now, a gentle breeze replacing the stifling heat of the day. It was perfect. Pushing off from the shore, I paddled out into the calm waters, the surface reflecting the twilight like a mirror. For the first hour, I was in

my element, casting my line with hopeful precision, but as the sky darkened further, a creeping disappointment settled over me. The fish were proving elusive, likely hiding deeper where the water remained cool and undisturbed. Cast after cast came back empty, no tug on the line, no battle to be had. With a sigh, I considered calling it quits. Maybe it's just not my day, I thought, feeling the weight of the day's heat and the evening's fruitless efforts. But as I prepared to reel in my line for the last time, a sudden movement caught the corner of my eye. Something was out there, disturbing the peaceful waters. Curiosity peaked, I paused, straining to see through the dimming light.

Was it just a log, or perhaps one of the lake's giant snapping turtles? No, this seemed different, bigger, and with a purposeful glide that sent a shiver down my spine. The realization that it might not be something so benign dawned slowly, chillingly. With a mix of fear and fascination, I watched the mysterious shape move closer, my heart starting to race. What was lurking in my peaceful lake? Could the evening's adventure take a turn towards the truly unexpected? As the shadow drew nearer, my initial thrill of curiosity turned to alarm. Whatever was out there it wasn't supposed to be.

The water, usually my ally and escape, now felt like unknown territory, vast and possibly dangerous. What had I gotten myself into? As I sat in my kayak, floating on the glassy surface of the lake, the last light of day fading into twilight, my initial curiosity about the mysterious shape in the water turned into a cold knot of fear. What I had hoped was just a trick of the shadows now seemed far more ominous. The creature moved with a purpose, its form sleek and powerful under the water's surface. My heart pounded as I realized this was no log or turtle. It was something much bigger.

The creature's presence turned the peaceful evening into a scene straight out of a horror movie. As it drew closer, I could make out more details. Its body was long and covered in scales that gleamed faintly in the dying light. It can't be, I whispered to myself. but a distant part of my brain was putting the pieces together, remembering images from nature documentaries. An alligator, here? The very thought seemed absurd, yet there it was, undeniable and approaching. Panic surged through me. All thoughts of fishing forgotten, I grabbed my paddle with trembling hands. My first instinct was to get away as fast as I could. The safety of the shore, which had seemed so close moments ago, now felt miles away.

I paddled furiously, the splash of my paddle loud in the silent evening. Every stroke was frantic, fueled by adrenaline. The kayak cut through the water, its speed a testament to my desperation. Behind me the water stirred ominously. I dared not look back, afraid that seeing the alligator would only heighten my panic. I imagined it gaining on me, its powerful body propelling it effortlessly. My mind raced with horrifying possibilities. What if it attacked? What if it overturned the kayak? The water around me suddenly felt hostile,

a hidden world of danger lurking below the surface. As the shoreline approached, never had I felt so relieved to feel the scrape of sand beneath my kayak. I leaped out, my legs unsteady and weak from fear, and dragged the kayak up onto the bank. Only then did I dare to glance back at the water. The surface was calm again, as if nothing had disturbed it. Had I imagined it? Had I imagined. it all? No. The terror was too real, too visceral to be a figment of my imagination. Breathing heavily, I made my way to my car, throwing the kayak and my gear inside more hastily than I ever had before. The drive home was a blur of streetlights and shadowy trees, my mind replaying the night's events over and over. When I finally reached home, I was still shaking. I recounted the encounter to my

ex-wife over the phone, who was less than thrilled to hear of my brush with danger. Promise me you won't go back there, she pleaded. I could only agree, the fear still too fresh, too raw. The next day, I called an old friend who worked in the fish and game department. He confirmed my fears weren't unfounded. Two alligators had been removed from that lake, and another nearby over the past summers. They were likely illegal pets released into the wild. The news was both a relief and a worry. It was an explanation, yes, but it meant the danger was real. That night changed my view of the lake forever. What had once been a refuge now seemed like a hidden pool of threats. My love for fishing would continue, but perhaps, I thought. It was time

to find a new spot, a place without such chilling surprises lurking beneath its serene surface. They say everything happens for a reason, but I suspect everything happens for a recess. Like this commercial break. Did you need 15 seconds away from music? Or 15 seconds to eat arreases. Perhaps it's true. Everything happens for arises. Transport your senses with Sol de Janeiro's limited edition perfume mist collection.

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I went to Woodlawn High School, the same one that Adnan Syed and Heyman Lee attended, and the same one made infamous by the podcast Serial. For those of you not in the know, serial was probably the first big true crime podcast, and it told the story of how Adnan supposedly murdered Hymin, who was his girlfriend at the time she was killed. It cast a long shadow over Woodlawn, and Baltimore's reputation had been in the toilet

ever since The Wire came out during my final year of middle school. I used to love both places, and I spent what's probably an embarrassing amount of time defending both in various online game lobbies. But then came the day when I was no longer able to defend Baltimore or the wider county, and that just so happened to be the day that I decided never to visit Patapsco State Park ever again. My girlfriend and I decided to visit during the summer of 2014, as Patapsco has a ton of different places to camp that came with their own table and fire ring.

I'd spent almost my entire life hiking and camping around that park, hence why it was one of my favorite places, and that also meant that I knew the place like the back of my hand. I knew one of the most secluded and picturesque places to hike was between the river and the train tracks. It had a stretch of barely trodden trail right there next to the Ah River, and provided a train didn't roll past every so often, you might think it was a scene from a fairy story or something, which is obviously why I was so excited to show my girlfriend at the time, because I figured if I thought it was pretty,

she would go absolutely nuts over it. Anyway, we drove out to Patapsco, found ourselves a free campsite, then once we were all set up, we crossed the train tracks and started heading for the river. We were about 10 to 15 minutes into the hike. My girlfriend was absolutely loving the river and was taking all kinds of pictures on our phone, when suddenly we heard voices from somewhere on the other side of the water. The river isn't all that wide, but since it was summer and all the trees and bushes were in bloom, We couldn't see who it was until someone suddenly burst out from the bushes and ran into the river.

They looked scared, and as they were running, their foot must have caught on a rock or something because they suddenly just splashed down into the water in what looked like a pretty nasty fall. I was about ready to jog up the bank a little to see if the guy was okay and if he wanted any help. But then right as I was about to take off, he stood up, turned around, and yelled out, No, please, no! The next thing we heard was, bang, bang, bang, three gunshots. Then the guy fell backwards into the river again. It was all over in a matter of seconds.

We heard the voices, saw the guy fall, then he stood up and he was dead. But I swear, I don't think his back had even touched the water before my girlfriend and I took off running. It was just a complete 180, not in terms of the direction we ran either. everything was turned on its head. One minute, I was the happiest I'd been for many months, and the next we were quite literally running for our lives. I mean, I know it wasn't us getting shot at, but I figured if someone was willing to do that,

they probably didn't want any witnesses either. I think the thing that really sticks with me was how I didn't run as fast as I could have. The whole time my girlfriend and I were running, I was trying to keep my body between her and the shooter, thinking something like, if anyone was going to get hit, I wanted it to be me and not her. I'm not saying that to sound heroic. It was purely out of instinct.

I just remember the skin-crawling sensation that came with it, though, slowing myself down when I wanted to sprint off through the trees, all while hoping that I didn't get shot, and then hoping that if I did get shot, the bullet wouldn't go through me and hit my girlfriend too. She was amazing, by the way. She ran like the wind and stayed as quiet as. as possible and didn't even start to slow down until we were safely back across the tracks. Without a shadow of a doubt, those were the most terrifying few minutes of my entire life.

If it was just me on my own, or maybe me with like a guy friend, it would have been scary all the same, but with it being my girlfriend with me, for some reason that made it all the more terrifying. I guess there was just that natural instinct to protect her, but at the same time, I knew that if push came to shove, I wouldn't be able to protect her from a guy with a gun, especially if that person wanted to do us harm. The best I could do was try to shield her, and I'm proud of myself for doing that, but it's still made for a terrifying few minutes. We ended up getting out of there safely, and we called the cops as soon as we were able,

but I don't know anything about the person who got shot, and as far as I know, their killer has never been caught. It was just another regular day in our little Florida neighborhood, except my best friend and I had planned an exciting evening. We were going to the creek behind our neighborhood to catch some fish. The creek was hidden in the woods, which had a pretty creepy reputation. People said it was a spot for devil-worshipping and mysterious happenings a long time ago, but we weren't scared. We had played and fished there since we were little kids.

We knew those woods like the back of our hands. We grabbed our fishing poles and packed some snacks. My friend brought his machete just in case we needed to cut through thick bushes or, you know, defend ourselves against something. I laughed off the idea, though the woods had always given me the chills when it started getting dark. As we walked towards the creek, the sun was just beginning to dip below the treetops, casting long shadows that made our familiar path look a bit strange. You ever wonder if the stories are true?

my friend asked, swinging his machete casually by his side. Nah, I replied, trying to sound braver than I felt. It's just stuff the older kids say to scare us. We reached our favorite fishing spot and settled down. The water was calm and the sounds of nature were all around us. Birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the occasional fish jumping. It was peaceful and for a while we forgot all about the spooky stories. But as it got darker, the woods seemed to be.

to close in around us. The noises of the day gave way to the eerier sounds of the night. Crickets chirped loudly and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Then, something else joined the nighttime symphony, sounds that didn't belong, a rustling not caused by the wind, a faint whispering that seemed to come from all around us. Did you hear that? I whispered to my friend. He nodded, gripping his machete tighter. We listened, and the whistle The whispering grew louder, but we couldn't make out any words. It was like the trees themselves were talking. Suddenly, a loud crash from the treetops nearly made me jump out of my skin.

We looked up and saw something that made our hearts stop, a dark, human-like shape swinging from branch to branch, heading right towards us. It wasn't any animal we knew. The thing was big and moved too fast. The next sound we heard was like nothing I'd ever heard before. A mix between pigs squealing and women screaming. It was the most bone-chilling thing I had ever heard. Without thinking, we grabbed our stuff and ran as fast as our legs could carry us.

Behind us, the crashing and the horrible screams followed. I didn't dare look back. My friend was ahead of me, slicing at the bushes that blocked our path. My chest burned with each breath, and my legs felt like jelly, but fear pushed me forward. We were about halfway through the field of tall grass. when the creature hit the ground with a heavy thud. It was now chasing us on foot. I could see the grass parting behind us

as if something invisible was moving through it. Just when I thought it would grab us, the creature vanished. But we didn't stop running until we reached the safety of the hole in the fence. Crawling through, I felt a mix of relief and terror. We had escaped, but what was that thing? And would it come after us again?

As we ran all the way back to my, house, all I knew was that those woods were no longer just our playground. They were something else, something sinister. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my chest. My friend and I had just squeezed through the hole in the tall chain-link fence, and I could hear that thing crashing towards us from behind. It slammed into the fence with such force that the whole section shook. Thankfully, we were already on the other side, running as fast as our legs could carry us. didn't stop running until we reached my backyard. Once inside, we slammed the door shut and leaned against it, trying to catch our breath. My mom came rushing into the room, a worried look on

her face. What's wrong? You boys look like you've seen a ghost, she said, her voice full of concern. I tried to explain, the words tumbling out in a rush. There's something in the woods, Mom. It chased us. It was screaming like nothing I've ever heard before. I expected her to say she believed us, to comfort us like she always did when we were scared. But this time, she didn't. Boys, you're just letting your imaginations run wild. It was probably just an animal. You know, your minds can play tricks on you when it gets dark, she said, brushing it off.

My friend and I exchanged glances. We knew what we heard. We knew what we saw. It wasn't our imaginations. That night neither of us could sleep. Every little sound made me jump, and I kept staring at my window, half expecting to see that shadowy figure peering in. The next night, the entire neighborhood was awakened by the same terrifying screams we had heard in the woods. Lights flicked on in houses up and down our street, and soon people were gathering outside, talking in hushed, frightened voices.

What is that sound? someone asked. It sounds like it's coming from the woods, another neighbor replied. The next morning, a group of adults, including my dad and some neighbors, decided to go into the woods to see if they could figure out what was going on. My friend and I insisted on going with them. We led them to the spot where we had been fishing. As we walked, I noticed something new, something terrifying. On the path to our usual fishing spot, someone had drawn pentagrams on six trees. Each symbol was part of a bigger pentagram that had been drawn on the ground. We had walked right through it the previous day and hadn't even noticed.

The adults muttered to each other, looking worried. The atmosphere was tense, and nobody ventured too far from the group. After a thorough look around, we found nothing else out of the ordinary, but the symbols were enough to make everyone uneasy. Words spread quickly through our neighborhood about what we had found. The stories about the woods grew darker, and soon nobody dared to go near them after sunset. The house nearest to the woods, which always had a creepy vibe, now stood completely empty.

People said it was haunted, and after what we experienced, I believed them. Those woods had changed. They weren't our playground anymore. They were a place of mystery and danger, and whatever lived there was best left alone. We never went fishing there again, and I always felt a chill when I passed by the path that led into those dark whispering trees. This spring, Uber Eats has you covered. Whether you're celebrating mom, dad, or your favorite grad. Not all of us are great planners, and with the Uber Eats gift tub, you don't have to be.

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at shopify.com slash special offer. Back in 2011, I tried to organize a camping trip for myself and a few friends. They had been talking all spring about how awesome it would be if we all went camping together. Just a bunch of dudes, no phones, just living in the moment, and all that kind of stuff. However, as the date approached, each of the four dudes dropped out one by one, citing various reasons for their inability to attend.

Obviously, it sucked. I was super stoked for some kind of crazy adventure, and I had also invested a significant amount of money in all the clothing and gear I thought I needed. I was heartbroken that the trip was basically set to be canceled, but then it occurred to me, why not just go on my own? We had planned the trip for mid-July, which is easily the best time to camp in the far northeast, meaning it was very much a case of sticking to the date or possibly waiting a whole year for the opportunity to resurface. So I packed my stuff, and on the day we were due to depart, off I went on my lonesome for a few days camping in Acadia National Park. For the three days that I was there, I had the time of my life. I actually figured that I might regret going solo, that I'd be bored out of my skull for the duration, but I couldn't have been more wrong. First off, I barely had a moment to myself between making camp, collecting enough firewood, setting up the barrel arms, and getting the fire going.

I literally did not have a spare moment until sundown. Then, when it finally did go down, I was in no mood to relax. Nighttime in the woods is freaking scary, dude. And since it was my first night in the woods in probably ten years, and I was on my own, it was just a lot to get used to in a very short space of time. At least if I wanted any sleep anyway. I got used to the night sounds in the end. And there's only so many times that you can play that scene from the Blair Whiz.

project in your head before it just gets kind of old, you know. After that, the second and third nights were way easier, and I managed to actually get some decent bouts of sleep. Then, on the third and final night of my trip, I woke up in the middle of the night in some serious discomfort. There's no delicate way to put this, so I'll just be blunt about it. I didn't poop for three whole days while I was out there. Every time I even thought about it, I'd picture a snake's slithering up to me, having to abort, and either getting poop all over me or getting my butt bitten by a garter snake or something. There aren't any venomous snakes up here in Maine, but they'll still bite you if the mood takes them, so the idea of dropping trow and squatting

somewhere wasn't in the least bit appealing to me. But I could only put it off for so long. I was almost constantly busy, or on the move, at least during daylight hours, and that meant that I needed to eat a lot. But then, the more I ate, the more I needed to take a dump, until I finally reached the point where I couldn't hold it in anymore. I got up, put my headlamp on the tactical settings so that it emitted just a little blue light. It's harder to spot, and then walked off into the woods with my wet wipes. I didn't walk far, but I didn't exactly want to poop right next to where I was planning on eating breakfast the next morning either, so I must have walked for at least a minute or two, trying to find the perfect spot before finally leaning up

against a tree and dropping my pants. I promise that is enough poop talk for the remainder of the story. Just know that everything went smoothly, maybe not the best choice of words, and I managed to wipe and pull my pants up before starting on the walk back to my camp. But literally, just as I'm about, I don't know, 80 to 90 feet away, I see another person's flashlight shining up near my camp. The sudden appearance of this other person in the middle of the night obviously sent major alarm bells ringing in my head, and obviously there were a handful of innocent explanations. But there were way more not-so-innocent ones too. So instead of just walking back up to my camp to see what this mysterious stranger wanted,

I switched off my headlamp real quick and then crept over to a tree trunk in the darkness and watched from behind it. Some of you might be thinking, why the dim blue light? Well, if you've given yourself night blindness by using a big bright flashlight like my visitor was, it's almost impossible to detect that real dim shade of blue, and that's why I was able to turn my headlamp off real quick without being seen. Anyway, so I duck behind a tree, watching as this guy's flashlight beam is just sort of moving around my camp.

I can't see the guy holding it, not in any sort of great detail anyway, but I could see that he was shining his flashlight on different stuff like he was inspecting his flashlight. my camp or looking for something. Seconds later, I see a second flashlight appear, meaning two people were now walking around my campsite. The second flashlight seemed to follow the same pattern as the first for a minute, before the two strangers stopped inspecting my camp and started talking to each other. Now, I couldn't hear every word, but I heard enough to know that they were looking for me specifically. One guy asked the other a question, and his reply was just a little louder when he said, he was just here now. Hearing those words made for one of the creepiest moments of my entire

life. I get that two guys might just randomly stumble across the campsite after dark. That's not entirely out of the question. But then to know that at least one of them had been watching me somehow made me feel sick to my stomach. I felt perfectly capable of defending myself, but only against things I could see and things that didn't creep up on me in the middle of the night when I should have been sleeping. You also got to remember that I put down a bunch of little bear alarms, which are basically trip wires with a noise maker on the end, and those guys made it up to my camp without triggering a single one. Sure, they had flashlights, but those things aren't easy to see if you don't know they're there, even in broad daylight. I watched the two

flashlights for a few minutes longer, trying to figure out what the two men were saying. I could barely make out a word, but then I heard one of them say something like, we'll just come back tomorrow. A few more words were exchanged, and then the two guys turned and walked away from my campsite. I stayed put for maybe 10 to 15 minutes, internally debating on what I should do. In my head, I was almost certain that the two guys, or at least one of them, would go back to wherever they were watching me from, and then returned the second I showed up at my camp again. I wanted nothing more than to just run back to camp, pack my stuff away, and then get the hell out of there before dawn. But that first thought stopped me. Packing up camp would make way more noise than I was comfortable

making. And there was also no way that I'd be able to do that without cranking my headlamp up, which in turn would make it much easier to see me. And this was also assuming that the two strangers didn't have some kind of night vision capability. Now I know that sounds like I was overthinking the whole thing, but I literally had nothing else to do. I was just stuck there in the darkness, barely breathing, not moving. All I had were my thoughts and my fears, nothing else. I stayed exactly where I was for what seemed like forever, and then I finally started to see dawn approaching,

and I felt safe enough to creep back up to my camp and start to dismantle it. I did it as quickly and quietly as possible. Then, instead of having some breakfast like I had planned to before departure, I walked all the way back to where I'd left my car. This took me way longer than it would have done under any other circumstances too, because I made a huge effort not to stick to any regular trails. I also made a point of stopping at the information center on the way off the island, where I asked if any of the rangers had come across a campground in the middle of the night.

They didn't have a clue what I was talking about. No rangers had been patrolling the park after dark, and if they had been, there's no way they'd. have just walked up on some sleeping campers like that. Since the Rangers also handle law enforcement in the parks, I was invited to file a report and give as much detail as possible. If folks were creeping up on campers in the middle of the night, the Rangers damn sure wanted to know about it.

But as much as I appreciated their concern, I wasn't exactly filled with the kind of confidence that made me want to revisit Acadia anytime soon. How many discounts does USA Auto Insurance offer? Too many to say here. Multi-vehicle discount. Safe driver discount. New vehicle discount. Storage discount. How many discounts will you stack up?

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