Just Creepy: Scary Stories - 9 Scary TRUE Summertime Horror Stories

Episode Date: July 1, 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 9 Scary TRUE Summertime 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 00:04:23 Story 2 00:14:25 Story 3 00:18:41 Story 4 00:24:24 Story 5 00:29:35 Story 6 00:35:29 Story 7 00:46:35 Story 8 00:57:55 Story 9 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 #truescarystories#summer #scarysummer 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

I spent a lot of time with one set of grandparents during my youth. They watched me while my parents worked all week and kept me all summer at a campground. I had been coming there and staying every summer from the ages of two to thirteen and have many fond memories. However, there is one memory that has stuck with me over the years. On this particular occasion, I was six years old, and my best friend, who was eight at the time, was spending a few days with us at the campground.

We only stayed there on weekdays since my grandmother worked double shifts all weekend. Therefore, the campground was sparsely populated from Monday through Friday, as many people only had time off work for weekends or holidays, so there were already eerie vibes there, especially in the darkness. Not to mention the ghost stories my dad had told us about the place. Our neighbors in the immediate area were perfect, despite barely seeing them. They had a complete outdoor kitchen that I loved playing. pretend chef in, and they left it open whenever I wanted, and allowed me to play in it.

My grandparents were always lovely and easygoing, and my nan was mainly incredibly nurturing to your needs, no matter who you were. But they also had their moments. Have you ever seen that movie The Visit? It's kind of reminiscent of that, where there would be a creepy moment and then it would go back to normal. My best friend's first day at the campground was when my Pop told us to watch out for bears because he had seen one earlier that day. We brushed that off since we had heard things like this all the time, and we were having too much fun riding bikes and going into the creek to really care. Night soon came, and it got really dark, really fast. My best friend and I were playing in the outdoor kitchen I mentioned before when,

out of nowhere, we heard this low, growling and moaning sound, which got much louder as something began tearing at the tarp cover, acting as if it were a kitchen wall. We had a little bit of all know that reasoning shuts down the limbic system and is overridden during threats of survival. The fight or flight response takes over, if you will. It seemingly happened in an instant. We were running and immediately crying before we could even process what was happening. We ran a few feet to our camper to get to my nan. I was expecting her to be comforting as she always was, but her reaction to us was somewhat horrifying. She laughed wildly and practically slapped her knees. Baffled and scared, I had no idea how to react to this. My pop emerged behind

the camper next to ours and joined the mad laughter, eyes bugging out. So yeah, my pop pretended to be the bear, but he never really admitted to it, you know? It was kind of weird. So he made up that he had seen a bear earlier in the day to scare us. And then, I guess when we didn't get scared by it, he came and physically pretended to be the bear. At least, that's my understanding, all these years later. We weren't amused, and I don't remember the rest of that week, if I'm honest, but I recall still being terrified and finding no relief in their words. I was scared of them and didn't understand why they did that, and I still really don't. I'm all for pranks and kidding around, but I feel like this was a bit beyond, especially because they never said explicitly

that they pranked us. They just acted like it didn't happen but clearly laughed in our faces about it. I don't know. Everything scared me at that age as well, so I'm not acting like this is some crazy traumatic thing, but they had never done anything like this before or after, and I just found it so weird. They did get a kick out of us two kids running away crying and screaming. I can tell you that. They were definitely holding back tears from laughing so hard. Looking back, I felt like it was alarming. They never really apologized, or even paid much mind to the rest of my friends stay. But they would laugh heartily whenever we brought this up. You know, I'll likely never get any further elaboration from them, but I thought this would be a cool story to share. As all of you

know, life can be a struggle sometimes. Making ends meet isn't always as easy as just getting a job. Several years back I couldn't find a job. It was rejection after rejection, and at the time, nobody was really hiring. The few places that were hiring were ultra-competitive. I was barely making over minimum wage as a deli employee at a grocery store. I remember one night, while working online for ways to make extra money, I stumbled upon Craigslist. I'd heard of Craigslist, but had never really explored it myself.

I found an ad on Craigslist for a freelance job, where I would be what's called a secret shopper. For those of you who may not be familiar with what a secret shopper is, is, it's basically an anonymous customer who comes into a store and asks the employees a series of questions. The employee is then graded on certain criteria, for example, does the employee make eye contact, greet you, give a suggestion, offer to escort the customer, and give a parting comment, etc. It seems simple, but a lot of companies, specifically the store I worked for, will reprimand the employee for a bad secret shopper score, and even fire the employee if

they receive more than one bad score. Since I had experience in the store and knew exactly what they were looking for, I thought this would be an easy way to make some money on the side. The first store I visited was a local chain of grocery stores in my hometown. Oddly enough, it was the same company I worked for, but not the same store. I started making my rounds and noticed a man, probably in his 20s, stocking the shelves. He looked at me and immediately put his head back down. He didn't greet me, so he lost points right away. I had to greet him and ask him where the canned tuna was. He never lifted his head from stocking the shelves and just sort of angrily said, I'll two, halfway down. Again, this guy lost points for not making eye contact,

and offering to show me where it was located. Also, just for the record, I know how ridiculous all of this is. But these companies take this seriously. They don't care if you're waiting on a another customer or what the excuse is. If you get a bad score, you're kind of screwed. I was trying to pause and give the guy a chance to redeem himself by telling me to have a good day, but he never did. I eventually had to initiate the parting remark, and that's when he finally looked up and said, Yeah, you too. I finally saw his name tag which read Patrick, and I smiled and walked away. I noticed that Patrick kept his eye on me. I felt his stare as I walked away. I started to figure that he was on to me, that I was maybe a secret shopper. I was going to ask a few more employees' questions,

but I started to feel uncomfortable. Every time I looked up, I could see Patrick at the end of the aisles. It almost seemed like he was following me. I wasn't sure what the end game was for this guy, but I didn't want to find out. I cashed out and the cashier passed her secret shop with flying colors. After I cashed out, I briskly made my way to my car and just wanted to get out of the store so badly and be done with this. Once I was in the car, I started writing down the full report before I drove off. I just wanted to get all the information down while it was still fresh. But while I was writing, I looked up and saw my buddy from the aisle intensely walking through the parking lot. Patrick. I ducked down a little, but thankfully, it didn't appear like he had

noticed me. He just kept walking until he got to his car, which was a dark four-door sedan of some kind, and he sped off. I waited a few minutes before I departed. I don't know why, but this guy just gave me the creeps. Though I kept thinking to myself why he was following me around the store like that, it truly did feel like he was, and it just felt so weird. I'm a textbook overthinker, so I tried telling myself that maybe I was overthinking, but something about him was definitely. I was definitely off that night. I went home and emailed my supervisor the report, and life went on. It only took a day or two for me to completely forget about that interaction.

A few nights after I turned in the report, I was having a late-night dinner with my boyfriend. We were just hanging out, enjoying each other's company. The relaxing evening was interrupted by a loud and consistent banging on the front door. It wasn't just an aggressive knock either. It sounded like someone was throwing there entire body weight at the door. You have no idea how horrifying it is to hear a knock at the door at that hour, let alone a banging knock like this one. We looked out the window, and I was at a loss

for words. It was Patrick, the guy from the grocery store, and he looked horrible. His eyes looked like they were sunken in, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. I called out telling him to leave right now that I was calling the police, and he didn't even flinch. He just kept banging and demanding that I let him enter the home, repeatedly saying that I ruined his life, and that I needed to pay, that there would be an eye for an eye. I remember him saying,

I didn't even want to think about what he meant by that. While this interaction was happening, my boyfriend had called the police, though they must have been in the area because the first squad car showed up in less than two minutes. And it's a good thing too, because I don't know how much longer my door was going to hold up. Patrick was really throwing himself into the door, and this whole sight was nuts.

A cop tackled Patrick right on my front steps and handcuffed him, and while they were apprehending him, they ended up finding a knife concealed in his waistband, which, for me, was the most terrifying information about this entire ordeal. I still can't stop thinking about what he intended to do with that knife if he had broken down the door. After he was arrested, I did get some closure on this whole nightmare. It turns out it was just a situation of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Apparently, Patrick was at the end of his rope, and my visit to the store that day was what forced him to fall completely off.

He was struggling to pay his bills, and from what I was told, his girlfriend had just broken up with him the day of that secret shopping event, and when I approached him in the store that day, he was only minutes away from the end of his shift and was just mentally, completely done at that point. I get it. We've all been there. well, to a degree, and I happened to catch him on a bad day, and asking for a can of tuna was the last thing on his mind. He ended up losing his job because he had failed another secret shopper report, a report that I sent in. The part that I can't still figure out about this is, I have no

idea how he found out where I lived. I don't think he followed me that day after the store, but there's no other way that he would know where I lived. I stayed at my boyfriend's house after that at night and rarely stayed at my old house alone. I don't know what happened to this guy, but I genuinely hope that he figured it out, and more importantly, I hope these stores get rid of the Secret Shopper program, because it's just horrible. Hey everyone, if you've been following along, you know I've been trying out Magic Mind every day for the past week. Today I'm super excited to share my experience and tell you all about the changes I've noticed. So just as a quick recap, Magic Mind is a mental performance shot that promises to boost focus, motivation, and productivity

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It's like my brain has found this new gear that I did know existed. On day one I felt a bit skeptical, not going to lie. But by day seven, it's like a fog has lifted. I'm not just buzzing through tasks. I'm actually enjoying them more because I'm not feeling that usual stress and anxiety. I really appreciate about Magic Mind is that it's not just about caffeine. This isn't about replacing your morning coffee, but enhancing your entire day. The L. Theanine and Magic Mind helps make the energy from my morning coffee last all day, without any crashes. And it's not

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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 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. Own it all. Pay off your home, travel for life, drive a Ferrari. In celebration of the world premiere of the Monopoly Big Board Buckslot Machine by Aristocrat Gaming,

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and exploring the nearby woods. On our first day, we were biking around the other campsites when we encountered a group of kids our age. There were about three of them. Instead of getting along, we got into a big argument, which escalated into a war between our two groups. At one point, one of the kids in their group threatened to hurt us with his dad's knife. This deeply disturbed us, and made us uncomfortable, prompting us to head back to our own camp. That night was pretty typical. We forgot all about those kids and roasted some s'mores. My mom and dad, who were the only supervisors on this trip,

went to bed at about 10 p.m. They told us not to stay up too late, make too much noise, or leave the campground. As we were messing around, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It kind of looked like the shape of a human at the tree line near our campsite. I pointed it out to my friends, and we decided to take a closer look. As we approached, we could see it was indeed a person, but they weren't moving and were standing dead still. My friend, whom I'll call Matt for this story, said he was getting uncomfortable. He wanted to get closer to the figure because he was sure it was a man.

We were all perplexed and a bit scared, so we didn't want him to confront the figure. My first thought was honestly, why would anyone put a mannequin out? here. I tried to find some sort of rational explanation for why this figure would be standing so still, without making a single noise or movement. As we tried to figure it out, we began to hear movement from the nearby bushes. We decided to dash back to camp, and once we all made it, we got into our tent and kept watching to see if anyone was coming. At one point, my friend Brody saw a figure moving in the tree line. I caught a glimpse of it too, but I was unsure if it was a person. We kept taking shifts sleeping and watching throughout the night.

The following day we were tired and decided to check out the dummy. When we approached the area, it was gone without a trace, and it was only about 5 o'clock in the morning, meaning someone must have come and taken it very early. We went back to check on the kids we had argued with and saw that they were still there. When they saw us coming, they quickly went into their camper and hid. We tried to wait for them, but they wouldn't come out, no matter what. Eventually we gave up and headed back to our site. It was still relatively early, so we decided to keep exploring where Brody might have seen a person.

What we found next made us all want to leave and never return. In a bush right next to where Brody saw the figure, there was a hunting knife, a pair of binoculars, and a hunting rifle. We assumed it was those kids, but how did they get those items if the oldest kid was maybe 11 years old? The night was pretty normal again until about midnight. We saw more movement in the trees and knew we had to be careful. We all stayed up and watched as multiple figures made their way through the trees. Eventually, assuming that Matt got mad, he decided to open the tent, shine his flashlight, and start yelling at whoever was out there.

We followed him as he moved closer to the trees and saw that there were two kids booking it deeper into the woods, carrying the items we had found in the woods. bush. After we scared them off, we returned to the tent, and the rest of the night was uneventful, although none of us could sleep. Nothing more happened, and by the time we checked on the kids the next Metapix, they had already left the campsite with their family. That experience still haunts me, and I often wonder what would have happened if we had been vulnerable in those woods that night. I mean, they had a gun, and we had a tent. At the end of the day, if they really wanted to do something they could have, and I think that's what bothers me sometimes. Not long ago, I decided to listen

to a friend of mine about picking up some babysitting jobs from Craigslist. I know that seems weird, but I was surprised at how many postings for that type of work were there. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have needed the job, but at the time, I had just broken up with my boyfriend, and I didn't think I would be able to pay my rent. This seemed like the easiest way to make some money. It helps that I used to babysit when I was a teenager, and my brother has two small kids, so I felt like an expert in the field. After all, how hard could looking after some children for a few hours be? I set up a job for early Saturday evening and started messaging a woman named Chloe. She said that she and her husband would be leaving the house around 5.15 p.m., and they would be

back sometime after 10 o'clock. She gave me the address and all the information about the children I would be watching. Two boys, one seven, and the other nine. I figured this was going to be easy money. In my opinion, boys that age are easy to entertain, and because they weren't babies, they wouldn't need my undivided attention. After I talked to the lady, I told my friend about the job, who was jealous of the money I was about to make. She had been doing Craigslist babysitting jobs for a few months now, and had never come close to the money I was about to make, or at least that's what I was told. On Saturday evening, I made my way to the address given to me by Chloe, and right away, I had some regrets. The house was in a very sketchy neighborhood, not necessarily

crime-ridden, but it was a poor rundown area. When I knocked on the door, there was no answer. I waited for several minutes and attempted several more knocks. Finally, a strange and very rough-looking man answered the door. He was tall and skinny. with a massive gray beard. I would say he was at least in his 50s, unless he just looked rough for his age. In a very low and gruff voice, he said, Come on in, sweetheart, sorry.

I didn't hear the knock because my ears ain't what they used to be. I walked inside, and the first thing I noticed was how not child-friendly the house was. A lot of trash and general clutter was lying about. I was just standing in front of the door when the man said, My wife should be back any minute with the kids. Go and sit down and make yourself at home.

Sorry. I know the place ain't the cleanest. I was trying not to be judgmental. I know it sounds like I should be running for the hills, but I didn't want to unfairly judge this guy or his family. The man pointed down the hall and told me that the living room was at the back of the house. I made my way back there and sat on a bluish couch. The amount of anxiety I felt at that moment was absolutely crushing.

I saw no pictures of children, no toys. and no indication whatsoever that children even lived there. While I was waiting on the couch, I could hear the man walking back and forth in the other room, and I think he was mumbling to himself. Every few minutes he would begin to shout, Hey, sorry about this, ma'am. My wife can be forgetful with the time.

I promise she'll be back soon. A few minutes later, he ran into the room, scratching his head with a big smile. He said, You know what? I'm an idiot. I bet my wife came inside with the kid through the basement entrance. She's probably waiting for you down there.

Nobody uses the front door that you came in. The basement's right over there. Why don't you go check it out and I'll meet you all down there in a minute. He stood there like some scarecrow, pointing to a door on the far side of the room. I didn't know what to do and just nodded and told him I would go check. Truthfully, I had had enough at this point. though he smiled in a very unsettling voice he said well that's great i'll see you in a second sweetie then he walked back into the front room i opened the door to the basement out of curiosity and it was obvious that nobody was down there the lights were off and the smell was just horrific when it hit my nose there was no chance i was going to go down there while staring into the dark basement i heard that he was still bumping around in the front room and without thinking i ran as fast as fast as he was going to go down there while staring into the dark basement i heard that he was still bumping around in the front room and without thinking i ran as fast

as I could toward the front door that I came from. Once I hit it, the door was locked. I quickly unlocked it and ran to my car. As I opened the car door, I could hear him yelling from inside the house, but I didn't look back. I started backing down the driveway, and I could see him running out of the house, waving his hands back and forth.

Thankfully, by the time he reached the driveway, I was already flying down the road. I almost didn't call the police because Tesson, Technically, I was physically fine and maybe even overreacting. But after calling my friend, she convinced me to call the authorities, just in case. After the phone call, I had no idea what had happened. The dispatcher on the phone told me that they would take it from here, and that was the end of it, at least on my end.

Maybe there was a wife and kids. Maybe this was just a poor family that I had very unfairly judged. Maybe there really was an entrance to the basement that his wife used instead of that front door. But honestly, I'd rather look like some crazy jerk who judged the family than potentially be the victim of something much worse. The unnerving nature of the new situation told me to run, and I stand by that gut feeling, which very well could have been the best decision of my life. USAA knows dynamic duos can save the day, like superheroes and sidekicks or auto and home insurance. With USAA, you can bundle your auto and home and save up to 10%. Tap the banner to learn more and get a quote at usaa.com slash bundle.

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To provide a bit of backstory, I generally keep to myself, but I feel compelled to share this story because something out of the ordinary is happening to me. I live in an area where it is uncommon to see wanderers, or any sort of travelers. I barely see anyone except for the occasional funeral of an old friend. I consider it a safe and peaceful area to rest. However, some occurrences over the past few weeks have made me think otherwise. It all started about a week ago on a warm evening, as I was relaxing at a few weeks. home, watching the day go by and listening to the creatures sing their song of nature in the

beautiful wooded country I inhabit. Suddenly, all went quiet. There was not a single bird chirping or a frog croaking. Something felt wrong. I strained my ears to see if I could hear or see anything out of the ordinary. But everything looked and sounded normal. It was just quiet. This might not sound off to some, but for where I live, there were always noises of nature. always something, whether it be the wind, the bugs, the dirt, or even the grass. A few days passed, and all was normal until I had just finished cooking dinner and went up to rest for the evening. I was looking out and listening to the song of nature again when, suddenly, everything went dead silent. I almost brushed it off at that time again, but I started considering the

possibility of a predator, since there can be bears and such in the area from time to time. Once again, as I listened closely, trying to tune into the nature around me, it was eerily silent, almost unbearable. That was until I heard it, a distant chattering sound. I sat and focused for a minute, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. Honestly, it sounded like it was coming from everywhere. After a few more seconds of silence, I began to hear leaves crunching, as if something massive was moving. Living in the country, you can tell the difference between humans, animals,

and anything else walking in the woods. This was definitely some sort of human, or at least a bipedal creature. Fear struck me as I nestled down and tried to get out of sight. My house is not very conspicuous. It's built into the woods and can't really be noticed unless you stumble upon it. After some time, I noticed that someone approached my house wearing a strange outfit. It honestly looked like a homemade gilly suit, as if he was trying not to be heard. The chattering stopped, and I noticed that whatever this person was doing, he was making the noise with his teeth by chattering them. The sounds were honestly awful. I then began to hear a banging sound, and wasn't really sure what they were doing, but it looked like whatever they had in their

hands they were banging against a tree. I began to squeal in slight fear. As I've said, I'm pretty introverted. I'm not really a tough guy. I can take care of myself and survive off the land. But confrontation with people is not something I've ever been good at. Eventually, they got closer, and I noticed what was in their hand was actually some sort of machete or spear-like tool. It looked like he had a PVC pipe that he had spray painted and somehow mounted a machete on it.

It was pretty janky-looking, if I'm honest. This guy noticed me and started shouting at me while doing more of those loud chatters with his teeth. At this point, I began to black out, absolutely terrified. I thought of all the funerals I've attended, all the fallen friends and acquaintances that I have unfortunately had to see over the years, the ones who didn't get to live the life that I got to live. In that moment, I decided that this was not going to be my fate, and today was not going to be my funeral. This guy started charging at me, chattering his teeth, sounding like some sort of alien from a movie. He swung his spear machete at me, and it grazed my leg slightly as I moved out of the way.

I was in shock. I had no idea why this person would be charging at me or trying to take my life like this. All I had was a small 22-caliber rifle. I had a three, 80-caliber gun somewhere else in the house, but I believe it was broken or jammed. There was something wrong with it, and I couldn't figure it out, but my 22 worked just fine. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't going to pack the most powerful punch. But if it bleeds, it dies.

So, I picked up my 22, which I had laying next to my chair outside, and I just unloaded. Luckily, it seemed like I scared him more than I may have hurt him because the moment he saw me aiming a gun at him, he began to run. I'm not the type of person that's just going to scatter them with a bunch of bullets. I let off a couple of shots, intentionally missing him. watching him run in terror, making a more alarming and distressed, chattering sound. I'm sure we've all made some foolish mistakes in high school. Sometimes it's not even you who makes the mistake. Simply by joining in with your peers, you can find yourself in a very bad situation.

When I was in high school, my friends and I would visit Craigslist to mock the odd characters we found there. Trust me when I say there are a lot of weirdos on Craigslist. One night, my friend group let things go too far. far. We found an ad from a guy who was looking for a woman to come over and massage his feet. Yes, weird right from the start. We all pretended to be a woman named Molly and began messaging this guy from a fake email account we had created. This was before the whole catfish phenomenon was talked about, but we were essentially doing the same thing. It just didn't have a mainstream name yet. Even though this guy was creepy, we were still in the wrong for leading him on and pretending to be

something we were not. My friend Dan was pushing the envelope, flirting and saying things he shouldn't have. It was only a matter of time before this man sent us his address. Everyone started laughing, and I also laughed, not really finding it funny, but wanting to fit in. I just wanted this practical joke to end, to be honest. Dan wasn't ready to let the joke end just yet. He wanted to visit the creep's house and actually try to get a glimpse of the man. I very much voted against this, but Dan peer-pressured the group, and before I knew it, we were in the car and on our way to this weirdo's house. The car ride was mostly quiet, other than Dan trying to get us fired up for the occasion. It took us about 15 minutes to get to the neighborhood of the man looking for his

foot therapy, as he put it, and it was a pretty rough part of town, the kind you don't want to be wandering around in after dark. It was clear that everyone was now regretting this decision, except for Dan. We all thought that we were just going to drive by the house and then head back, but he had other plans. We stopped in front of the house, and while we were stopped, Dan opened the door and started making his way to the guy's front door. We all started freaking out, trying to get him to come back into the car.

Everyone except my friend who was driving got out of the car and tried pleading with Dan. I remember even forcibly trying to hold him back, but he just pushed through. We were arguing, really whisper arguing, trying not to bring attention to ourselves. Dan looked at us and said, Listen, guys, I need to see what this freak looks like. I promise. Once I get a quick glimpse, I'll just leave. What's the worst that can happen?

I was still against the idea, but I could tell that he had won my friends over, Not wanting to be the coward that I always was, I joined in. As we snuck toward the house, I thought maybe Dan would just peer through the window or something. But this absolute maniac went right to the front door. Without giving us any notice or any time to prepare or hide, he rang the doorbell. My heart was beating so fast I was convinced I was going to have a heart attack. Seconds later, a very short but very overweight man wearing a bathrobe answered the door, and we all froze.

In a squeaky, and I admit pretty comical voice, this guy asked, What's the meaning of this? Where's Molly? Dan made a very inappropriate joke or comment, called the man a freak, and we all just started laughing and briskly walking to the car. I was incredibly anxious, but I was trying to fit in, hence why I was laughing with the group. We couldn't have been more than ten feet away from the front of the house when this creepy man grabbed a rifle that he must have had right next to the door and began pointing it in our direction.

His face was all red, and he looked like he was shaking. At that moment, we were all freaking out. Finally, Dan realized that we may have crossed a line. Obviously, the creepy man did say something, but through all the paranoia, none of us could hear what he said. We all ran as fast as we could, dove into the car, and I looked behind me as I closed the car door. I could see the man starting to give chase with that rifle still aiming,

in our direction. We drove off as fast as we could, and when I looked behind, he was now standing in the middle of the road, still staring down the barrel of the rifle. I ducked down, expecting to hear the rear window glass shatter at any second, but thank God it never did. We eventually made it back to the house, and we panicked for the entire night. We actually ended up receiving an email from him not long after we got home that said, I will find you. I saw your car and your license plate. I will find where you live. At that moment, we were beside ourselves. We didn't know what to do.

We turned off all the lights, and I'm not kidding. We stared out that window the entire night, holding our breath every time a car drove by. I suggested maybe calling the police, but my friends talked me out of it. They made me believe that we were the ones who would get in trouble if we called them, so we didn't.

And that was the longest night of my entire life. The creep never showed up though, and we never heard from him again. I tried convincing myself that his threat was just some bluff, but I still never felt safe. It took months of not hearing from him for me to finally feel like I was safe. All these years later, I still haven't been down that street since that night, and even though I'm older, I still have an irrational fear that he'll be outside waiting for me. For that reason, I'll continue to avoid that area of town as long as long as I'm older. long as I can.

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watching the small screen as it flickered to life, casting shadows across the stacks of case files on my desk. The video began abruptly. The camera was shaky at first. pointing at the ground, then lifted to strap onto someone's head. Marks, I assumed, since he was the one narrating the introduction, his voice uneasy, but eager. How does it look? he asked, his voice capturing a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

You look stupid, came a response, followed by a collective chuckling from the group gathered around. That was Frank, a man with a gruff voice that matched his no-nonsense demeanor. Mark's retort was cut short by Margaret, who jumped in with a voice smooth as riverstones but firm enough to quiet the laughter. Frank, please try your best to be nice. Margaret then took the lead, her maternal tone gathering everyone's attention like sheep to a shepherd. Now that we are all settled in, and the fire is going, how about we all give our names and why we are here? Mark, how about you go first and we go right from you, she suggested.

sitting cross-legged and looking up at Mark expectantly. The introductions that followed painted a vivid picture of a group as varied as the landscape of Wyoming, rugged, raw, and real. There was Daniel, a young man with a warm smile known to Margaret from past support groups. His look was sincere, his eyes scanning the circle, a nod of his head as he took in every face. Then Emma, a frail figure who barely lifted her gaze from her worn-out boots, her voice a mere whisper, I'm here to move on from the last two years.

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about what had brought each of them to this remote patch of wilderness. Each story was a thread, weaving a tapestry of recovery and redemption, or so it seemed. As the camera panned around the circle, the light from the campfire flickered across anxious and hopeful faces.

All right, Frank, your turn. Margaret coaxed, her tone soft yet fructed. firm. I'm here to deal with my anger, Frank muttered, almost to himself, staring into the fire as if trying to scorch his troubles in the flames. The video captured more than just faces. It caught the underlying tension, the weight of unspoken stories and unresolved struggles.

It was when Jacob, an ex-alcoholic who had found solace through Margaret's previous interventions, introduced himself that the mood briefly lifted. Everyone clapped, including Frank. his applause seemed reluctant, his scoff a sharp note in the night air. Margaret suggested mingling, but Mark's GoPro caught none of that. The camera went dark, and for a moment there was nothing but the crackling of the fire and the distant hoot of an owl. When the screen lit up again, the calm had been shattered. The introductions were over, and survival was about to begin. The shadows in the trees seemed deeper, more sinister, as Margaret stood up, announcing

she'd be right back. Little did we know the darkness was watching, and it was hungry. Sitting there in the dim light of my office, I knew I was only scratching the surface of what had happened. I was drawn in, unable to look away, a part of me dreading what I knew was to come. The forest had a different feel after dark, as if the trees themselves absorbed the day's warmth and now exhaled a chilling presence. It had only been a few minutes since Margaret vanished into the darkness towards the, the van, but her absence felt much longer. Mark's voice broke the silence, a half-hearted attempt to keep spirits light. Anyone got any good scary stories to tell? But before Daniel could spin his yarn, a palpable tension seized the air, a feeling of being watched. That's when the real

horror began. The laughter and camaraderie were swiftly cut off by the appearance of five figures. cloth sheathed over their bodies like sinister shadows, faces obscured by blank white masks. It wasn't just their sudden appearance that froze the blood in my veins. It was the stark, menacing contrast of their expensive-looking black suits against the ragged wilderness. Frank's voice shattered the silence, his tone a mixture of disbelief and challenge. What the hell do you all want, huh? But no one was prepared for the swift brutality that followed. the tall figure in the center, a beast of a man, answered not with words, but with a vicious

swipe of a machete. Margaret didn't even have time to scream, before her head tumbled to the ground, her body crumpling as her head smoldered by the fire. Panic erupted. Commands were shouted, people scrambled. The forest around us became a labyrinth, the trees morphing into menacing figures as everyone fled into the dark. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a loud echo in my ears. We regrouped, out of breath, and shaken to our cores. Accusations flew wildly as the initial shock faded into a cold, creeping dread. This has to be some sick setup, Liam gasped, his voice tinged with paranoia. Margaret's intention for a therapeutic escape seemed now a grotesque farce, and mistrust quickly wormed its way through the shaken group.

I felt it too, a gnawing suspicion. Was this a point? planned massacre, a psychos game. The video didn't flinch as it captured every flicker of fear, every whispered conspiracy. The forest was no longer just a backdrop. It had become an active participant in our nightmare, whispering secrets I wasn't sure I wanted to hear. Our attempts to escape were futile. The masked figures were not just sinister apparitions, they were hunters, and we were the prey, stumbling through the underbrush, tripping over roots that seemed to claw at our feet. Emma, the girl who had barely spoken a word since the fire, suddenly cried out, I can't do this, as a branch snapped ominously close behind us.

The video captured it all, the fear, the fights, the fleeting moments of courage. Frank, usually so imposing and sure, his voice now trembled as he tried to rally us. We have to keep moving. But every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, tightened the noose of terror around our necks. Then a thought struck me as cold as the creek water running through these woods. If we were the prey, then this night was our trap. And someone had lured us here into the dark heart of the forest,

where the shadows danced with our fears. As the camera lens fogged slightly with the evening mist, so too did the lines between victim and villain blur into a harrowing tableau of survival. As the first light of dawn threatened the horizon, it did little to lift the shadows that clung to the forest floor or the dread that settled in my stomach. We were fewer now. The night had claimed more than just our sense of security. It had taken members of our group. Their screams now just echoes among the trees. Frank's breathing was ragged beside me as we paused, leaning against a gnarled pine that seemed as weary as we were. We got to keep moving, he muttered.

but his eyes were haunted, flickering back to the dark we had just run from. Each of us carried the weight of the night's horrors, our faces gaunt, our eyes hollow with the things we'd seen. It was then, amid the whispered planning and quick frightened glances, that we realized we had become part of something far beyond a simple retreat gone wrong. The remaining survivors, myself included, were ragged edges of ourselves, suspicion gnawing at our frayed bonds. Mia, always the tough one, had become a pillar of cold fury, her arms crossed as she stared down the dim trail. We're not just running from them, she said, her voice low and steady.

We're running from whatever sick game this is supposed to be. The conversation turned to Margaret. Could she really have been behind this? Her gentle demeanor, the encouraging words around the campfire, now seemed like a cruel mask. his face pale with grief and loss, shook his head slowly. She wanted to help, he insisted, but his voice cracked, betraying his doubt. I proposed a final stand, not out of heroism, but out of sheer desperation.

If we keep running, they'll just pick us off one by one. We need to face them, I declared. My voice stronger than I felt. It was a gamble, but fear had sharpened into resolve, a hard-cutting thing that left no room for hesitation. We set up an ambush at a narrow pass between two rocky outcrops, a choke point that offered no real advantage other than necessity. As the sky lightened, the forest seemed to hold its breath. And for a moment, the only sounds were the distant calls of waking birds

and our own labored breathing. The attackers appeared with the sun, silhouetted against the new light, their masks still in place, their movements deliberate and unhurried. Now, I whispered, and the air exploded into chaos. Mia charged first, her anger a palpable force that seemed to startle even our assailants. We fought with the desperation of cornered animals, and for a moment I believed we might prevail.

But the forest had other ideas. An arrow whistled past, narrowly missing Emma but finding its mark in Jacob. He fell with a grunt, his body thudding against the damp earth. The fight drained out of us then, replaced by a raw, aching grief that spread like wildfire. In the end, it was not our plan that saved the remaining few. It was the sheer unpredictability of human desperation. Frank, ever the fighter, made a last reckless charge, buying us precious seconds.

Run, he bellowed, and we did, scattering into the woods, leaving behind the bodies of friends and foes alike. The camera, still recording, captured my last glance back. A tableau of violence and loss, the ground muddy with red liquid and trampled leaves. I ran until the forest gave way to a clearing, the morning light harsh and unforgiving. And as I finally stopped, my breath ragged and my body aching. I knew the wilderness wasn't what we had to fear. It was what it brought out in us, what it always had.

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It's hard work, and for me, it was mostly just lonely. Our farm was huge, with acres of fields stretching out as far as the eye could see, all the way to where the dense forest marked the edge of our land. I used to stand there on the brink, looking into the tangle of trees and shadows, wondering what secrets it held. My parents had one rule, stay out of the woods, but rules like that are made for curious boys with too much imagination and not enough company. I was eight years old the first time I decided to step beyond the edge.

It was early morning, just after I'd finished my chores, and the sun was barely peaking over the horizon. The dew was still fresh on the grass, making my boots wet and cold as I made my way to the forbidden line of trees. At first, I kept close to the farm, darting in and out of the tree line, my heart pounding with the thrill of disobedience. The forest felt alive, like it was watching me, test. me. With each step deeper, the sounds of the farm faded until all I could hear was the rustle

of leaves and distant calls of wild birds. One morning, feeling braver than usual, I ventured farther than I ever had. I counted my steps marking the time, and after about 15 minutes, I stumbled upon a clearing. It wasn't just any clearing. It was perfectly round, as if someone had drawn a giant circle in the middle of the woods. The trees around it were different too, taller, darker, almost guarding it. In the center of the clearing stood a figure. My heart skipped a beat. It was a man, or so I thought, standing perfectly still and facing right at me. I ducked behind a tree, my breath shallow, watching him. But he didn't move, not an inch. Curiosity got the better of my fear. I edged closer, hiding behind another tree, then another, until I could see him clearly.

He wasn't a man. He was a scarecrow. Relief washed over me, followed by a burst of laughter at my own fright. But this scarecrow was different from any I'd seen before. He was dressed in a red-checked shirt with a straw hat perched jauntily on his head, and he had a wide smile stitched across his face from one ear to the other. He looked so real, so lifelike. standing there. I wondered why someone would put so much effort into making a scarecrow look that good, and then hide him away in a clearing where no one could see him. Drawn by a mix of admiration and curiosity, I stepped into the clearing. The ground felt softer here, almost sacred. As I approached, I tried to convince myself that it was just a scarecrow, but something about

the way his eyes seemed to follow me made my skin crawl. I reached out a hesitant hand and touched his arm. It was solid but strangely warm, not like straw should be. I pulled back quickly, my mind racing with questions. Who made him and why? What was he guarding in this secret circle? The forest seemed to lean in, listening to my thoughts, the leaves whispering secrets I couldn't quite catch. I knew I should head back, that I'd been gone too long already, but the mystery of the scarecrow called to me, promising answers and adventures. As I turned to leave, I promised myself I'd return, if only to prove that it was just a scarecrow, nothing more. But deep down, I wasn't so sure. Every chance I got I sneaked back to the clearing.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month, and every visit made the scarecrow, Peter I had named him, seemed more like a friend than just a bunch of straw and old clothes. The clearing became my secret place, my escape from the lonely, that draped over the farm like the endless skies. I'd sit with Peter for hours, talking about everything and nothing. I told him about school, the books I was reading, and even the little adventures I had on the farm. It sounds silly, talking to a scarecrow, but Peter was a great listener.

He never interrupted, never judged, just stood there with his stitched smile, as if encouraging me to continue. Peter, I'd often start, as if he could respond. Do you think it's weird I don't have real friends? I'd wait, half expecting him to nod or give some sign. Of course he never did. But in my head, I imagined him understanding, offering silent solidarity. As summer faded into autumn, the magic of the clearing seemed to fade too.

The leaves turned golden and fell, carpeting the ground in a crunchy, colorful mosaic that muted our footsteps. Peter began to change as well. His once vibrant shirt faded, the colors dulling with the season. His smile seemed less welcoming, more a grimace stitched in place, and sometimes I could swear his once lively eyes looked a bit emptier. Despite these changes, I continued my visits. Each day, I noticed something new about Peter that seemed different. The realistic look of his skin seemed to sag,

losing its life-like luster, and the illusion of his breathing, which I once swore I saw, had stopped altogether. It was as if Peter was slowly turning back into what he really was, a scarecrow. One particularly chilly afternoon, as I sat sketching Peter's fading form, I couldn't shake off a feeling of sadness. You're not the same anymore, I murmured, more to myself than to him. I guess nothing stays magical forever, huh? It felt like our time together was a kind of summer that had passed,

leaving behind only memories and a longing for something that could never be recaptured. I started visiting less often, driven away by the cold and the creeping realization that Peter was just an object. My trips to the clearing became weekly, then monthly. Eventually the ground froze over, and snow covered the paths I once walked so eagerly. The barrier of winter made the woods seem impenetrable, a world away from the warmth of my room and the crackling fire at home. Winter turned into spring, and with the melt came a new beginning. I decided to visit Peter again, propelled by a mix of nostalgia, and the hope that maybe,

just maybe, the magic had returned with the new blooms. But as I approached the clearing, my heart sank. It wasn't just that Peter looked more worn than ever. It was that he didn't give off the same sense of companionship. He was truly just a scarecrow now. In that moment, I realized I had outgrown the clearing in Peter. The loneliness I felt wasn't about not having friends. It was about not letting myself be part of the world beyond the farm.

I needed more than a silent friend. I needed to find a place where I belonged, with people who could answer back when I spoke to them. As I left the clearing that day, I knew it was probably for the last time. Peter had been a good friend in his way. But some friends, I realized, are just meant for a season. It was surreal being back on the farm after all these years. years. University had changed me. I had friends now, real ones who laughed and talked back, who didn't have straw for brains or smiles stitched into their faces. But there I was,

back in my old room, the walls echoing the silence I had left behind. The lockdown had driven everyone to their safe places, and ironically, this was supposed to be mine. One evening, as the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field, my mom and I sat on the porch, sipping tea. The conversation turned to the neighbors, and she mentioned Linda, the new lady living next to Mr. Hitchcliff's place. My heart skipped a beat at his name. I hadn't thought about the clearing or the scarecrow's for years.

What happened to Mr. Hinchcliff? I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice trembled slightly. Mom sighed, looking down into her tea. Oh, Charlie, it was awful, she began. her voice low. He died last year. They found him in the woods, not far from here. She paused, her eyes meeting mine, filled with sadness. And he wasn't alone. A chill ran down my spine. Not alone? My thoughts raced to dark places, to possibilities I hadn't let myself consider before. They found a woman with him. Mom continued. Her voice barely a whisper now.

Strap to a pole, dressed up like one of his scarecrows. The police said, She choked up, unable to finish. My mind reeled. The scarecrow's, the visits, the talking. It all came crashing back, a tidal wave of horror and disbelief. What did they do to her? I managed to ask. My voice strained.

She survived, barely. They had to hospitalize her immediately. Mom explained, tears in her eyes. The police. They found more, Charlie. dozens of bodies buried on his land. Mr. Hinchcliff had been using people for his scarecrow's. I felt sick, the ground beneath me seeming to shift, all those years, talking to,

what, a person? My silent companions weren't just scarecrows. They were victims. Their realities far more gruesome than I could have imagined. The nights that followed were restless. I was haunted by memories of the clearing, of Peter, and the others that came after him. Each visit, each conversation, now painted with a macabre brush. How could I not have known?

Was there ever a moment when the truth nearly revealed itself to me, but I was too caught up in my own loneliness to see it? Weeks passed, and the green lushness of summer enveloped the farm. I decided to visit the clearing once more, compelled by a need for closure. The walk was familiar, yet everything felt different. The trees, the path, the very air, seemed to hold a somber note. The clearing was just as I remembered, but it was empty now. No scarecrow's, no peter, just a circle of grass and a sense of loss. Standing there, I realized how much

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Well, actually, I still am that guy. I'm also someone who is lucky enough to be able to fix just about anything. You might refer to me as a handyman of sorts. So, any time you know, I could pick up some sidework for cash, I was totally in. I'm not really sure exactly how long ago this happened, but I was in my early 20s for sure. I'm 33 now, for a point of reference. At the time, I was struggling a bit to make ends meet. My girlfriend at the time told me about Craigslist and mentioned that there was a chance to make some money there. I'd heard about Craigslist, but never really gave it a shot. I didn't know that work was posted there, though. Once I started exploring Craigslist, I found a lot of job offers, people looking for painting, yard work,

and even plumbing. I was weighing my options and trying to find the best posting for me, and I ended up answering this post from a guy named Steve. He was really weird. Just my straight-up first impression of the guy was not great. He was middle-aged, short, and a little round. He had these huge eyes that bulged out of his head and was rocking that sort of horseshoe haircut. You know, the one on the top and hair on the sides. But weird appearances aside, he was going to pay me some pretty good money to basically build him a little room in his basement.

Specifically, he wanted to finish a small chunk of his basement and make it into a sort of man cave. We set up times where I could go and work for several hours at a time, and he would pay me after each session. The house itself was weird. It was a big house in a nice neighborhood, but the inside of the house was kind of gross and basically empty. It looked like a frat house, even though the guy was middle-aged.

In the basement, Steve had already bought a ton of supplies, everything I needed for the job, and then some. He explained in detail exactly how he wanted everything. This guy had intricate blueprints and everything, and I made sure that I constantly checked with him before I did any more work, just because I wanted to make sure that we were always on the same page. Other than being weird, Steve wasn't a bad guy. We talked about the project a bit, and then he disappeared, and I wouldn't see him again until I left. After the first session, I started bringing my brother with me from time to time. The job was more ambitious than I had intended.

Whenever my brother came with me, Steve would never come into the basement. I'd only see him when I was alone. For the next few weeks, we worked on the basement whenever we could find the time. We thought it was weird that Steve only wanted to finish a small portion of the basement and not the whole room. He clearly had more than enough supplies, so it just seemed weird to want to renovate a small little room. My brother and I would constantly talk about how he could ever even turn this into a man cave. It was going to be so small that you could barely fit a love seat in the room. But ultimately, the conversation always led to us not caring, because we were getting paid.

One late afternoon, while we were there, I was finishing putting up a door for the small room, and I was proud of the little room that I had built. The door was nearing the finishing touches. My brother was out in the truck, just grabbing some tools and probably having a cigarette. Steve must have thought that I was alone because he joined me in the basement. He looked eager and excited as I was finishing putting up the door. I made some comments about the door being ready, and without notice, Steve kicked me in the knee and pushed me into the room, slamming the door behind me.

While I was getting to my feet, I could hear him putting some type of lock on the door. At this point, trying to process what was happening, I tried to open the door, but just as I expected, Steve had locked it. Somehow, I remember, he starts yelling something like, You're mine now, you're staying here, and you're not leaving. He just kept repeating versions of that same sentence repeatedly. I tried banging on the door but it wasn't doing anything. I tried pleading with the guy but he just kept screaming at me.

After only a few minutes of this nonsense, I heard a loud thud, loud enough that I could feel the vibration through the door. In my confusion and panic state, I had totally forgotten that my brother was still outside. He started making his way downstairs and witnessed everything that had just happened. My brother wasted no time and hit Steve in the head with a wrench,

and that apparently was the loud thud that I had heard seconds prior. While Steve was unconscious on the ground, my brother was able to find the key to the padlock in his pocket, and also found two different pocket knives on him. My brother got me out of that room, and we immediately called the police. While we were waiting, my brother pretty much stood over Steve and made sure that he stayed unconscious. When the police finally showed up,

Steve was arrested for attempting to keep me as a prisoner, or something like that. I'm so thankful that my brother was there that day, though I still get freaked out thinking about this Steve character and whatever his intentions were that day. If my brother wasn't there, who knows how long I could have been stuck there. I'm not sure what happened to Steve after this ordeal.

I tried to move on and forget about it, and this is the first time I'm even revisiting this memory since it happened. It was probably the stupidest thing that guy could have done, but also the scariest. Ryan Reynolds here for MintMobil. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same premium wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities, so do like I did and have one of your assistants assistants to switch you to MintMobile today. I'm told it's super easy to do at mintmobile.com slash switch.

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