Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary DEEP WOODS Stories to Listen to While Outside

Episode Date: May 2, 2025

These are 2 Scary DEEP WOODS Stories to Listen to While OutsideLinktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/►https://www.reddit.com/user/CosmicOrphan2020/Timestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:17:50 Story 2Music by:►'Decoherence' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.auhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM_AjpJL5I4&t=0s► Myuu's channelhttp://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Musichttp://bit.ly/2f9WQpeBusiness inquiries: ►[e-mail]#scarystories #horrorstories #deepwoods #cryptids 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

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meal time perfection for every cat. Have your human visit perfect bistro.com. If you ever find a rock stacked neatly on your sleeping bag in the middle of the woods. Just one, perfectly centered, with tiny, deliberate claw marks carved along its base. Don't pick it up. Don't touch it. Don't kick it. Just leave your pack, your tent, your friends, and go. I didn't. I picked it up, but I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm Jake. And if you know me from my channel, the unexplained northwest, then yeah, this was supposed to be my big breakout series. Ape Canyon, the truth, 100 years later, We were supposed to hike in, find the spot where the old miners said they were attacked in 1924, filmed some eerie B-roll, throw in a few creepy ambient noises, and rack up a couple

hundred thousand views. But what happened out there wasn't content. It was a trap. One we walked into willingly. We left the Marble Mountain Snow Park at 7.42 AM, August 18th. Clear skies. Spirits were high. Molly, my girlfriend, had that look she always gets.

before a backpacking trip. Calm, laser-focused, ready for anything. Aaron had his drone kit and thermal camera strapped to his back. Jess, his little sister, was dragging behind with an energy drink and a bag of trail mix she'd mostly spilled in the car. And David... Well, David was along because we needed a fifth, and he had a forerunner. The trail started normal, dusty switchbacks, old Douglas firs crowding in,

patches of ash where the forest hadn't fully recovered from the last fire. But even an hour in, I felt it. That off feeling. Not fear. Not yet. Just too quiet. No bird song. No wind.

Just the crunch of our boots and the occasional can't quite place it echo that followed a little too long after we spoke. Just joked that the forest felt judgy. David rolled his eyes. It's just a hike, guys. Bigfoot isn't real. And even if it was, the dude would be dead of limed his name. disease by now. We laughed. I didn't tell them that the first time I came out here a year ago to scout, I found nails, rusty square-cut ones, buried in the moss near an overgrown ridge.

And next to them? A crossbeam, split in half, burnt on one side like lightning had struck it. I marked the location on my GPS and planned our return. When we reached the ridge that afternoon, Everything felt wrong, not dangerous, just too still, like the woods had decided to watch. This the spot? Molly asked, brushing sweat off her neck. Yep, I said trying to sound casual. This is where Fred Beck and his crew built the cabin, or what's left of it. We found the nails again, the charred beam. Aaron scanned with the thermal, but didn't catch anything unusual.

Still, we all agreed the air felt thicker here. Like walking into a room. where someone had just been yelling. We set up camp on the flattest ground we could find. Trees surrounded us on all sides. Pine needles blanketed everything. Our fire pit crackled to life as the sun dipped low. Dinner was freeze-dried chili and cheap whiskey.

The mood was light at first. Aaron cracked jokes. Jess pulled out tarot cards. David wandered off for a smoke saying we were all nuts. But around 9.30 p.m., things shifted. The wind died, not slowly, not gradually, just stopped, no breeze, no rustling leaves. Even the smoke from our fire started rising straight up like a pillar. Then came the tapping, three knocks, faint, like someone tapping a rock against a tree trunk.

We all froze. Woodpecker, David said too quickly. Jess shook her head. Not that rhythm. That was deliberate. We sat in silence, listening. Ten minutes passed. Nothing.

Then three more taps. closer. I turned on the parabolic mic and scanned the tree line. Nothing obvious, but there was a sound under the white noise, a kind of slow, labored breathing, guttural, low, like someone exhaling through a cavern, then silence. At 1104, Molly screamed. I ran to her tent, hard in my throat. She was sitting upright, drenched in sweat, eyes wide. They were inside, she whispered, watching me. I wasn't dreaming, Jake. I saw them, not faces, just eyes, silver eyes, so many. We didn't sleep. At some point Jess threw up behind a log. Aaron sat up with the drone tablet in his lap, scanning thermal feeds, muttering, something moved, I swear it moved. At 3.27 a.m., the first

rock hit. It smashed into our solar panel with a sharp crack. Everyone jumped. I unzipped my tent and scanned the darkness with my headlamp, nothing. Then another rock landed near Jess's tent. Then another and another. The pattern wasn't random. Three, pause, four, pause, three again. Aaron activated the drone, and for a split second, we saw something. Tall, upright, just at the edge of the tree line.

Then static. The drone dropped like a stone, like it had been swatted out of the sky. Dawn couldn't come fast enough. When the sun finally rose, the woods looked. looked unchanged, but the feeling, that pressure in the air, it hadn't left. Jess stepped out of her tent and screamed. At the foot of her sleeping bag was a single stone, small and smooth, with three tiny claw marks etched into its side. And that was the last time any of us felt safe. By the time the

sun came up, none of us really believed we were in control anymore. We packed fast, barely speaking. Aaron had that wired, half-manic look he gets when something Rattles him, eyes darting, jaw clenched like he was chewing on glass. Jess wouldn't go near the stone that was left beside her tent. She just stood there shaking, arms crossed, whispering over and over. That wasn't here last night. It wasn't. Molly looked like she hadn't slept at all.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and she kept flinching whenever a twig snapped. She'd barely touched her breakfast. None of us had. We were ready to leave. but the trail was gone. I don't mean we missed a turn or wandered a few hundred feet off path. I mean it wasn't there anymore. The switchback we'd taken down to the ridge.

The dead tree with the hollow trunk we passed on the way in. Gone. Not just moved. Erased. Everything looked the same in every direction. Perfect symmetry. Pines spaced just far enough apart to keep you second guessing. Same moss, same lichen.

No foot. footprints, no trash, no sign we'd ever arrived. At first I thought I'd made a GPS error. Maybe the fire pit had just disoriented us. But Aaron's topo map glitched too, coordinates shifting in real time. He pulled up the last drone footage and started swiping through the thermal captures. That's when he stopped talking. What is that? he asked, pointing to a blurry corner frame. We all leaned in. On the edge of the thermal display was a silhouette, tall, upright, longer limbs than a person should have. Its heat signature barely registered, just cold enough to be real, just warm enough to not be dead. It was

standing still, too still. We watched in silence as Aaron cycled through the footage. The shape was in frame in three different clips, always from a new angle. It had been circling us. We should have left everything and bolted right then, but we didn't. because something bigger than fear kept us there. It wasn't curiosity anymore. It was this pole, like the woods were reeling us in. We tried moving west, hoping to reconnect with a logging road or a ranger marker. But after 30 minutes of hiking, we found ourselves back at the ridge, back at camp.

Only now, it was different. The fire pit was gone, covered in a thick, unnatural carpet of moss that hadn't been there five minutes earlier. Our footprints were gone, too. In their place were five sets of much larger prints, barefoot, human-like but impossibly wide, toes long and splayed like claws. That's when Jess started crying. I saw it, she said, last night. I thought it was a nightmare, but it leaned over my tent.

I saw its hand. It had fingers, but they bent backward. We didn't know what to say. Molly hugged her, but it didn't help. Nothing was helping. Then Aaron's Mike picked up something. He'd left the parabolic dish running and stepped up. away from it earlier. When we listened back, the recording was faint, buried under static,

but unmistakable, a voice, a whisper, and it was Molly's, repeating the same phrase over and over. Let them through, let them through, let them through. We all looked at her. She looked right back, her face pale. I didn't say that, she whispered. The air went still again. That's when Jess screamed. She'd wandered a few steps off to throw up. and when we rushed over, we found her standing at the edge of a creek, one we hadn't crossed before. Her boots were gone. She was ankle-deep in ice-cold water, staring down like she was in a trance. When I touched her shoulder, she flinched like I'd burned her. There are faces, she muttered, in the water, they're watching, they're underneath us.

I wanted to believe she was hallucinating, dehydrated. But when I looked down into that stream, I swear, I swear, I saw something shift beneath the current, long and pale, not a fish, not a fish. We got her back to camp. She was shaking, wouldn't stop muttering. It's like they're learning us, like they're studying. Then Aaron disappeared, just like that. One second he was filming the tree line. The next his camera lay sideways on the forest floor, lens cracked, still recording. The audio went haywire. We found no drag marks, no broken branches, no blood, just his boots, perfectly placed side by side and one of those stacked rock formations beside them. This one had three tooth-like bones on top, small, human-sized. That's when David snapped. He shouted at the trees, threatened to burn the whole

forest down. I tried to stop him, but he shoved me and took off into the trees with the drone controller clutched to his chest. We never saw him again. The drone signal cut out five minutes later. We thought about running, but where would we go? The sun was already low. Every path looked the same, and we were down to three. Molly, Jess, me. That night we didn't sleep. Jess sat upright against her pack, rocking, nails chewed to the quick. Molly was dead silent, staring into the fire. I sat with the parabolic mic aimed into the trees listening to something, low vibrations, breathing. Once I heard laughter, but not the kind that sounded human.

At some point past midnight, I stepped away to clear my head, and I found something in the dirt, a notebook, old, weather-stained, leather-bound, and wrapped in brittle rope. Inside were pages covered in frantic handwriting. Fred Beck's name was inside the front cover. The last few entries chilled me. They don't speak, but they understand. They watch from the trees and below the roots. They hate the sun.

The miners broke the covenant. They killed one, the wrong one. Now they come in threes. The final entry was scrawled with what looked like blood. First the watcher, then the shepherd, then the mouth. I didn't sleep, I just watched the tree line, and I counted every sound. There were three distinct knocks, then four, then three again, just like the first night. and I finally understood they weren't trying to scare us.

They were counting us. It's hard to explain what it feels like when the forest stops pretending to be a forest. By morning, the woods weren't just quiet. They were dead. No birds. No insects. No light breeze rustling the canopy. Even the temperature didn't change.

It just held. Like the whole place was stuck in the same second of time, looping over and over. We didn't eat. We didn't speak. Jess hadn't said a word since Aaron vanished. Her lips were cracked, and her fingers trembled constantly, like she was listening to something the rest of us couldn't hear.

Molly was worse. Her expression had flattened, not fear, not shock, just vacant, like she wasn't in her body anymore. She kept looking west toward the canyon. I'd catch her whispering under her breath, things I couldn't quite hear. I only caught one sentence clearly, and I'll never forget it. It's hungry, but it's patient. We decided to move again.

We had to. I didn't care if the trail was gone. I didn't care if we wandered in circles. I just needed motion. Stillness out here felt like death. We headed down the ridge, following an animal trail that shouldn't have existed. I say that because the prints in the dirt weren't from deer or elk. They were too deep, too wide.

And the gate was off. The stride was wrong. Whatever made them wasn't running. It was walking, slowly, like it had all the time in the world. That trail led us straight into the canyon. At first it looked like any other ravine, steep sides, fallen timber, moss-choked stones. But then we started seeing the symbols, carved deep into trees, scratched into rock, symmetrical spirals, triangle clusters, six-fingered handprints.

Some were filled with a black resin like sap, but colder. We passed a tree where the bark had been stripped in a perfect spiral up its trunk, 10 feet high. Bones had been jammed into the spiral like teeth, small ones, human-shaped. That's when I realized we weren't walking through the woods anymore. We were walking through a graveyard. Molly walked ahead like she was being guided, like she knew where to go. I tried to grab her arm, but she pulled away and whispered, he's underneath us. He who? I snapped, finally cracking.

Who the hell are you talking about? She looked at me then, just briefly, and in that second I knew she wasn't coming back. The mouth. We reached a wall of stone. She stopped, laid her hand against it. And just like that, a section of rock shifted, not crumbled, not cracked, shifted like a door.

Behind it was a narrow slit, just wide enough for a person. Beyond it, pitch black. A stench hit me then, like rot, like century, of decay sealed in stone. My stomach turned. I tried to pull her away, but she stepped inside and vanished, like the dark had swallowed her. I screamed her name, over and over. Nothing. Just collapsed behind me, sobbing. I turned and froze. They were everywhere, not moving, not breathing, just standing all around us. Dozens of them, tall, thin, black as ash. Their faces hidden beneath thick, matted hair. Their arms hung down to the

their knees. Their chests rose and fell with slow, quiet precision. Their eyes glowed silver, not like headlights, more like wet stone and moonlight. One stepped forward. It didn't make a sound. It knelt beside me and reached out, not to strike, not to grab, to touch. Its hand pressed against my chest and I swear to you, everything went silent. Not just sound, my heartbeat, my breath, my thoughts, gone. In that moment, I didn't see memories, I didn't see light, I saw roots, miles of them, thick, black, pulsing with a slow, oily rhythm, wrapping around bones, skulls, ribcages, femurs, all buried beneath us. And deeper still, I saw something else, a mouth, not a face, not a head, just a mouth,

wider than a cave, ringed with teeth carved from stone and bone and something still moving. It was asleep, but it was dreaming. And in that dream, it had already swallowed us whole. I don't remember what happened after that. I woke up three weeks later on the side of a rural road near Cougar, Washington, covered in mud, half naked, 30 pounds lighter, no gear, no camera, just Fred Beck's notebook stuffed in my jacket pocket. I don't talk about what happened to authorities.

What could I say? They never found Molly, or Jess, or David. or Aaron. They found no trace. My YouTube channel, wiped, every file gone, every backup corrupted. But the worst part? Sometimes, late at night, when everything's quiet. I hear three knocks on my bedroom window. Always three, never four. And sometimes when I'm dreaming, I'm back in that canyon. I see Molly standing in front of the stone slit. She turns, smiles, and says, We never needed the sun. sleep, your privacy, the way every room looks and feels.

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Zootopia has a secret reptile population. You can watch the record-breaking phenomenon at home. You're clearly working at. Zootopia 2. Now available on Disney Plus rated PG. My name is Sarah Branch. A few years ago, when I was 24 years old, I had left my home state of Utah and moved abroad to work as an English language teacher in Vietnam. Having just graduated from BYU and earned my degree in teaching, I suddenly realized I needed so much more from my life.

I always wanted to travel, embrace other cultures, and most of all, have memorable and life-changing experiences. Feeling trapped in my normal, everyday life outside of my life. Salt Lake City, where winters are cold and summers always far away, I decided I was no longer going to live the life that others had chosen for me, and instead choose my own path in life, a life of fulfillment and few regrets. Already attaining my degree in teaching, I realized that if I gained a further ESL certification, teaching English as a second language, I could finally achieve my lifelong dream of traveling the world to far away and exotic places, all the while working for a reasonable income. There were so many places I dreamed of going, maybe somewhere

in South America or Far East Asia. As long as the weather was warm and there were beautiful beaches for me to soak up the sun, I honestly did not mind. Scanning my finger over a map of the world, rotating from one hemisphere to the other, I eventually put my finger down on a narrow, little country called Vietnam. This was by no means a random choice. I had always wanted to travel to Vietnam because I'm actually one-quarter Vietnamese. Not that you can tell or anything, my hair is brown and my skin is rather fair, but I figured if I wanted to go where the sun was always shining, and there was an endless supply of tropical beaches,

Vietnam would be the perfect destination. Furthermore, I'd finally get the chance to explore my heritage. Fortunately enough for me, it turned out Vietnam had a huge demand for English language to teachers. They did prefer it if you were teaching in the country already. But after a few online interviews and some visa complications later, I packed up my things in Utah and moved across the world to the land of the Blue Dragon. I was relocated to a beautiful beach town in central Vietnam, right along the coast of the South China Sea. English teachers don't really get to choose where in the country they end up, but if I did have that option, I could not have picked a more

perfect place. Because of the horrific turn this story will take, I can't say where exactly it was in central Vietnam I lived, or even the name of the beach town I resided in, just because I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. This part of Vietnam is a truly beautiful place, and I don't want to discourage anyone from going there. So for the continuation of this story, I'm just going to refer to where I was as central Vietnam, and as for the beach town where I made my living, I'm going to give it the pseudonym Bien Hua Hen, which in Vietnamese, roughly, but rather fittingly, translates to Sea of Promise. Sea of Promise truly was the perfect destination. It was a modest-sized coastal town, nestled inside of a tropical bay, with the whitest sands and clearest blue waters you could

possibly dream of. The town itself is also spectacular. Most of the houses and buildings are painted a vibrant sunny yellow, not only to look more inviting to tourists, but also to reflect the sun during the hottest months. For this reason, I originally wanted to give the town the nickname Tran Mao Vang, Yellow Town, but I quickly realized how insensitive that pseudonym would have been, so Sea of Promise it is. Alongside its bright sunny buildings, Sea of Promise has the most stunning Oriental and French colonial architecture, interspersed with many quality restaurants and coffee shops. The local cuisine is to die for. Not only is it healthy and delicious, but it's also surprisingly cheap, like we're only talking 90 cents. You wouldn't believe how many different flavors of

coffee Vietnam has. I mean, I went a whole 24 years without even trying coffee, and since I've been here, I must have tried around two dozen flavors. Another whimsical little aspect of this town, is the many multicolored little plastic chairs that are dispersed everywhere. So, whether it was dining on the local cuisine or trying my twenty-second flavor of coffee, I would always find one of these chairs. A different color every time. Sit down in the shade and just watch the world go by. I haven't even mentioned how much I loved my teaching job. My classes were the most adorable seven- and eight-year-olds, and my colleagues were so nice and welcoming. They never called me by my first name. Instead, my colleagues would always say chowam or chowam guy, which basically

means hello little sister. When I wasn't teaching or grading papers, I spent most of my leisure time by the town's beach, and being the boring vanilla person I am, I didn't really do much. Feeling the sun upon my skin while I observed the breathtaking scenery was more than enough. Either that or I was curled up in a good book, I was never the only foreigner on this beach. Sea of Promise is a popular tourist destination, mostly western backpackers and surfers. So, if I wasn't turning pink beneath the sun or memorizing every little detail of the Bay's geography, I would enviously spectate fellow travelers ride the waves. As much as I love Vietnam, as much as I love Sea of Promise,

what really spoils this place from being the perfect paradise is all the garbage pollution. I mean, it's just everywhere. There is garbage in the town. on the beach, and even in the ocean, and if it isn't the garbage that spoils everything, it certainly is all the rats, cockroaches, and other vermin brought with it. Sea of Promise is such a unique place, and it honestly makes me so mad that no one does anything about it. Nevertheless, I still love it here. It will always be a paradise to me, and if America was the promised land for Lehigh and his descendants, then this was going to be

my promise land. I had now been living in Sea of Promise for four months, and although I had only three months left in my teaching contract, I still planned on staying in Vietnam, even if that meant leaving this region I'd fallen in love with and relocating to another part of the country. Since I was going to stay, I decided I really needed to learn Vietnamese, as you'd be surprised how few people there are in Vietnam who can speak any to know English. Although most English teachers in Southeast Asia used their leisure time to travel, I rather boringly decided to spend most of my days at the same beach, sitting amongst the sand while I studied and practiced what would hopefully become my second language.

On one of those days, I must have been completely occupied in my own world, because when I looked up, I suddenly saw someone standing over me, talking down to me. I take off my headphones and shading the sun from my eyes, I see a tall, late 20-something tourist wearing only swim shorts and cradling a surfboard beneath his arm. Having come in from the surf, he thought I said something to him as he passed by, where I then told him I was speaking Vietnamese to myself and didn't realize anyone could hear me. We both had a good laugh about it, and the guy introduced himself as Tyler. Like me, Tyler was American, and unsurprisingly, he was from California.

He came to Vietnam for no other reason than to surf. Like I said, Tyler was this tall, very tanned guy, like he was the tannest guy I had ever seen. He had all these different tattoos he acquired from his travels, and long brown hair, which he regularly wore in a man bun. When I first saw him standing there, I was taken aback a little, because I almost mistook him for Jesus Christ. That's what he looked like. Tyler asks what I'm doing in Vietnam, and later in the conversation, he invites me to have a drink with him and his surfer buddies at the Beechtown Bar. I was a little hesitant to say yes, only because I don't really drink alcohol, but Tyler seemed like a nice guy, and so I agreed.

Later that day, I met Tyler at the bar, and he introduced me to his three surfer friends. The first of Tyler's friends was Chris, whom he knew from back home. Chris was kind of loud and a little obnoxious, but I suppose he was also funny. The other two friends were Brody and Haley. a couple from New Zealand. Tyler and Chris met them while surfing in Australia, and ever since, the four of them have been traveling, or more accurately, surfing the world together. Over a few drinks, we all get to know each other a little better,

and I told them what it's like to teach English in Vietnam. Curious as to how they're able to travel so much, I ask them what they all do for a living. Tyler says they work as vloggers, bloggers, and general content creators, all the while traveling to a different country every other month. You wouldn't believe the number of places they've been to, Hawaii, Costa Rica, Sri Lanka, Bali, everywhere. They didn't see the value of staying in just one place

and working a menial job when they could be living their best lives, all the while being their own bosses. It did make a lot of sense to me and was not that dissimilar to my reasoning for being in Vietnam. The four of them were only going to be in sea of prong. promise for a couple more days. But when I told them I hadn't yet explored the rest of the country, they insisted that I tag along with them. I did come to Vietnam to travel, not just stay in one place. The only problem was I didn't have anyone to do it with. But I guess now I did. They even invited

me to go surfing with them the next day. Having never surfed a day in my life, I very nearly declined the offer, but coming all this way from cold and boring Utah, I knew I had to embrace new and exciting opportunities whenever they arrived. By early next morning, and pushing through my first hangover, I had officially surfed my first ever wave. I was a little afraid I'd embarrass myself, especially in front of Tyler, but after a few trials and errors, I thankfully gained the hang of it. Even though I was a newbie at surfing, I could not have been that bad, because as As soon as I surfed my first successful wave, Chris would not stop calling me Johnny Utah. Not that I knew what that meant.

If I wasn't embarrassing myself on a board, I definitely was in my ignorance of the guy's casual movie quotes. For instance, whenever someone yelled out Charlie don't surf, all I could think was, who the heck is Charlie? By that afternoon, we were all back at the bar, and I got to spend some girl time with Haley. She was so kind to me and seemed to take a genuine interest in my life. Or maybe she was just grateful not to be the only girl in the group anymore. She did tell me she thought Chris was extremely annoying, no matter where they were in the world, and even though Brody was the quiet, sensible type for the most part, she hated how he acted when he was around the guys.

Five beers later and Brody was suddenly on his feet, doing some kind of native New Zealand war dance while Chris or Tyler vlogged. Although I was having such a wonderful time with the four of them, anticipating all the places in Vietnam, Haley said we were going. In the corner of my eye, I kept seeing the same strange man staring over at us. I thought maybe we were being too loud and he wanted to say something, but the man was instead looking at all of us with intrigue. Well, ten minutes later, this very same man comes up to us with three strangers behind him. Very casually, he asks if we're all having a a good time, we kind of awkwardly oblige the man, a fellow traveler like us who, although

he was probably in his early thirties, looked more like a middle-aged dad on vacation, in an overly large Hawaiian shirt as though to hide his stomach, and looking down at us through a pair of brainiac glasses. The strangers behind him were two other men and a young woman. One of the men was extremely hairy, with a beard almost as long as his own hair, while the other was very cleanly presented, short in height, and holding a note pad. The young woman with them, who was not much older than I, had a cool combination of dyed maroon hair and sleeve tattoos, although rather oddly she was wearing way too much clothing for this climate. After

some brief pleasantries, the man in the Hawaiian shirt then says, I'm sorry to bother you folks, but I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions. Introducing himself as Aaron, the man tells us that he and his friends are documentary filmmakers and were wanting to know what we knew of the local disappearances. Clueless as to what he was talking about, Aaron then sits down, without invitation, at our rather small table, and starts explaining to us that for the past 30 years, tourists in the area have been mysteriously going missing without a trace. First time they were hearing of this, Tyler tells Aaron they have only been in the Sea of Promise for a couple of days. Since I was the one who lived and worked in the town, Haley asks me if I knew anything about the missing tourists, and when she does, Aaron turns his full attention on me.

Answering his many questions, I told Aaron I only heard in passing that tourists have allegedly gone missing, but I wasn't sure what to make of it. But while I'm telling him this, I notice the short guy behind him is writing everything I say down, word for word, before Aaron then asks me, with desperation in his voice. Well, have you at least heard of the local legends? Suddenly gaining an interest in what Aaron's telling us, Tyler, Chris, and Brody drunkenly inquire, Legends? What local legends? Taking another sip from his light beer, Aaron tells us that according to these legends, there are creatures lurking deep within the jungles and cave systems of the region, and for centuries local farmers or fishermen have only seen glimpses of them.

Feeling as though we're being told a scary bed-tenths of them, feeling as though we're being told a scary bed-tube-time story, Chris rather excitedly asks, well, what do these creatures look like? Aaron says the legends abbreviate, and there are many claims to their appearance, but that they're always described as being humanoid. Whatever these creatures were, paranormal communities and investigators have linked these legends to the disappearances of the tourists. All five of us realized just how silly this all sounded, which Brody highlighted by saying, You don't actually believe that crap, do you? Without saying neither yes or no, Aaron smirks at us,

before revealing that there are actually similar legends and sightings all around Central Vietnam, even by American soldiers as far back as the Vietnam War. You really don't know about the cryptids of the Vietnam War? Aaron asks us, as though surprised we didn't. Further educating us on this whole mystery, Aaron claims that during the war, several platoons and individual soldiers who were deployed in the jungles came in contact with more than one type of creature. You never heard of the rock apes, the devil creatures of Kwong Bin, the big yellows? If you were like us and never heard of these creatures either, apparently what the American soldiers encountered in the jungles

was a group of small bigfoot-like creatures that liked to throw rocks and some sort of lizard people that glowed a luminous yellow and live deep within the cave systems. Feeling somewhat ridiculous just listening to this, Tyler rather mockingly comments, So you're saying you believe the reason for all the tourists going missing is because of Vietnamese Bigfoot and lizard people? Aaron and his friends must have received this ridicule a lot, because rather than being insulted, they looked somewhat amused. Well, that's why we're here, he says. We're paranormal investigators and filmmakers, And as far as we know, no one has tried to solve the mystery of the Vietnam Triangle.

We're in Sea of Promise to interview locals on what they know of the disappearances, and we'll follow any leads from there. Although I thought this all to be a little kooky, I tried to show a little respect and interest in what these guys did for a living, but not Tyler, Chris, or Brody. They were clearly trying to have fun at Aaron's expense. So what did the locals say? Is there a Vietnamese lock-nest monster we haven't heard of?

Like I said, Aaron was well acquainted with this kind of ridicule, because rather spontaneously he replies, Glad you asked, before gulping down the rest of his low-car beer. According to a group of fishermen we interviewed yesterday, there's an unmapped trail that runs through the nearby jungles. Apparently, no one knows where this trail leads to, not even the locals do.

and anyone who tries to find out for themselves are never seen or heard from again. As amusing as we found these legends of ape creatures and lizard men hearing there was a secret trail somewhere in the nearby jungles where tourists are said to vanish. Even if this was just a local legend, it was enough to unsettle all of us. Maybe there weren't creatures abducting tourists in the jungles,

but on an unmarked wilderness trail, anyone not familiar with the terrain could easily lose their way. Neither Tyler, Chris, Brody, nor Haley had a comment for this. After all, they were fellow travelers. As fun as their lifestyle was, they knew the dangers of venturing into the more untamed corners of the world. The five of us just sat there, silently, not really knowing what to say, as Aaron very contentedly

mused over us. We're actually heading out tomorrow in search of the trail. We have directions in everything. then pauses on us. Before he says, If you guys don't have any plans, why don't you come along? After all, what's the point of traveling if there ain't a little danger involved? Expecting someone in the group to tell him we already had plans, Tyler, Chris, and Brody share a look with one another, and to mine and Haley's surprise, they then agreed. Haley obviously protested. She didn't want to go gallivanting

around the jungle where tourists supposedly vanished. Oh, come on, Hale. It'll be fun. Sarah, you'll come, won't you? Yeah, Johnny Utah wants to come, right? Haley stared at me, clearly desperate for me to take her side. I then glanced around the table to see that so too was everyone else. Neither wanting to take sides nor accept the invitation, all I could say was that I didn't know what I wanted to do. Although Haley and the guys were divided on whether or not to accompany Aaron's expedition, it was ultimately left to a majority vote, and being too sheepish to protest, it now appeared our plans of traveling the country had changed to exploring the jungles of central

Vietnam. Even though I really didn't want to go on this expedition, it could have been dangerous after all. I then reminded myself why I came to Vietnam in the first place, to have memorable and life-changing experiences, and I wasn't going to have any of that if I just said no when the opportunity arrived. Besides, tourists may well have gone missing in the region, but the supposed legends of jungle-dwelling creatures were probably nothing more than just stories. I spent my whole life believing in stories that turned out not to be true, and I wasn't going to let that continue now. Later that night, while Brody and Haley spent some alone time, and Chris was with Aaron's friends, smoking, you know what. Tyler invited me for a walk on the

beach under the moonlight. Strolling barefoot along the beach, trying not to step on any garbage. Tyler asks me if I'm really okay with tomorrow's plans, and that I shouldn't feel peer-pressured into doing anything I didn't really want to do. I told him I was okay with it, and that it should be fun. Don't worry, he said, I'll keep an eye on you. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I kind of had a crush on Tyler. He was tall, handsome, and adventurous. If anything, he was the sort of person I wanted to be, traveling the world and meeting all kinds of people from all kinds of places. I was a little worried he'd find me boring. A small city girl whose only other travel story was a premature mission to Florida. Well, soon enough, I was going to have a whole new

travel story. This travel story, we get up early the next morning, and meeting Aaron with his documentary crew, we each take separate taxis out of the sea of promise. Following the cab in front of us, we weren't even sure where we were going exactly. Curving along a highway that cuts through a dense valley, Aaron's taxi suddenly pulls up on the curve, where he and his team jump out to the beeping of angry motorcycle drivers. Flagging our taxi down, Aaron tells us that according to his directions, we have to cut through the valley here and head into the jungle.

Although we didn't really know what was going to happen on this trip, we were just along for the ride. After all, Aaron's plan was to hike through the jungle to find the mysterious trail, document whatever they could, and then move onto a group of cave systems where these creatures were supposed to lurk. Reaching our way down the slope of the valley, we follow along a narrow stream which acted as our temporary trail. Although this was Aaron's expedition, as soon as we start our hike through the jungle,

Chris rather mockingly calls out, All right, everyone. Keep a lookout for lizard people. Bigfoot and Charlie, where again, I thought to myself, Who the heck is Charlie? It was a fun little adventure, exploring through the trees, hearing all kinds of birds and insect life. One big problem with Vietnam is that there are always mosquitoes everywhere, and surprise, surprise, the jungle was no different. I still had a hard time getting acquainted with the Vietnamese heat, but luckily the hottest days of the year had

had come and gone. It was a rather cloudy day, but I figured if I got too hot in the jungle, I could potentially look forward to some much welcomed rain. Although I was very much enjoying myself, even with the heat and biting critters, Aaron's crew insisted on stopping every 10 minutes to document our journey. This was their expedition after all, so I guess we couldn't complain. I got to know Aaron's colleagues a little better. The two guys were Steve, the hairy guy, And Miles, the cameraman. They were nice enough guys, I guess. But what was kind of annoying was that Miles would occasionally film me in the group,

even though we weren't supposed to be in the documentary. The maroon-haired girl in their group was Sophie. The two of us got along really great, and we talked about what it was like for each of us back home. Sophie was actually raised in the Appalachians in a family of all boys, and already knew how to use a firearm by the time she was 10. Even though we were completely different people, I really cared for her, because like me, she clearly didn't have the easiest of upbringings. As I noticed under her tattoos were a number of scars.

A creepy little quirk she had was whenever we heard an unusual noise, she would rather casually say the same thing. If you see something, no, you didn't. If you hear something, no, you didn't. We had been hiking through the jungle for a few hours now, and there was still no sign of the mysterious trail. Aaron did say all we needed to do was continue heading northwest, and we would eventually stumble upon it. But it was by now that our group was beginning to complain, as it appeared we were making our way through just a regular jungle. That wasn't even unique enough to be put on a tourist map. What were we doing here?

Why weren't we on our way to Hugh City or Ha Long Bay? These were the questions our group was beginning to ask, and although I didn't say it out loud, it was now what I was asking. But as it turned out, we were wrong to complain so quickly, because less than an hour later, ready to give up and turn around, we finally discovered something. In the middle of the jungle, cutting through a dispersal of sparse trees was a very thin and narrow outline of sorts. It was some kind of pathway, a trail.

We had found it. Covered in thick vegetation, our group had almost walked completely by it, And if it wasn't for Haley, stopping to tie her shoelaces, we may still have been searching. Clearly, no one had walked this pathway for a very long time, and for what reason we did not know. But we did it. We had found the trail, and all we needed to do now was follow wherever it led us. I'm not even sure who was the happier to have found the trail, Aaron and his colleagues, who reacted as though they made an archaeological discovery, or us just relieved this

entire day was not for nothing. Anxious to continue along the trail before it got dark, we still had to wait patiently for Aaron's team. But because they were so busy filming their documentary, it quickly became too late in the day to continue. The sun in Vietnam usually sets around 6 p.m., but in the interior of the forest, it sets a lot sooner. Making camp that night, we all pitched our separate tents. I actually didn't own a tent, but Haley suggested we bunk together, like we were having our very own sleepover, which meant Brody rather unwillingly had to sleep with Chris. Although the night brought a boatload of bugs and strange noises, Tyler sparked up a campfire for us to make some smores and tell a few scary stories.

I never really liked scary stories, and that night, although I was having a lot of fun, I really didn't care for the stories Aaron had to tell. Knowing I was from Utah, Aaron intentionally told the story of Skinwalker Ranch, and now I had more than one reason not to go back home. There were some stories shared that night, I enjoyed, particularly the ones told by Tyler. Having traveled all over the world, Tyler acquired many adventures he was just itching to tell. For instance, when he was backpacking through the Bolivian Amazon a few years ago, a boat pulled up by the side of the river.

Five rather shady men jump out. and one of them walks right up to Tyler, holding a jar containing some kind of drink and a dozen dead snakes inside. This man offered the drink to Tyler, and when he asked what the drink was, the man replied it was only vodka, and that the dead snakes were just for flavor. Rather foolishly, Tyler accepted the drink, and only half an hour later, he was spitting up white foam from his mouth. Thinking he had just been poisoned and was on the verge of death, the local guide in his group tells him, No worry, Signor, it's just snake poison. You probably drink too much. Well, the reason this stranger offered the drink to Tyler was because, funnily enough, if you drink vodka containing

a little bit of snake venom, your body will eventually become immune to snake bites over time. Of all the stories Tyler told me, both the funny and idiotic, that one was definitely my favorite. Feeling exhausted from a long day of tropical hiking, I called it an early night. That and most of the group were smoking. You know what? Isn't the middle of the jungle the last place you should be doing that? Maybe that's how all those soldiers saw what they saw. There were no creatures here. They were just stoned, and not from rock-throwing apes. One minor criticism I have with Vietnam, aside from all the garbage, mosquitoes, and other vermin, was that the nights were so hot I always found it incredibly hard to sleep. The heat was very intense that night, and even though I didn't believe there were

any monsters in this jungle, when you sleep in the jungle in complete darkness, hearing all kinds of sounds, it's definitely enough to keep you awake. Early that next morning, I get out of my and Haley's tent to stretch my legs. I was the only one up for the time being, and in the early hours of the jungle's dim daylight, I felt completely relaxed and at peace, very zen, as some may say. say. Since I was the only one up, I thought it would be nice to make breakfast for everyone, and so, going over to find what food I could rummage out from one of the backpacks, I suddenly get this strange feeling I'm being watched. Listening to my instincts, I turn up from the backpack, and what I see in my line of sight, standing as clear as day in the middle of the jungle,

I see another person. It was a young man, no older than I. He was wearing pieces of torn, olive green jungle clothing, camouflaged as green as the forest around him. Although he was too far away for me to make out his face, I saw on his left side some kind of black charcoal substance, trickling down his left shoulder. Once my tired eyes better adjust to this stranger, standing only 50 feet away from me, I realize what the dark substance is.

It was a horrific burn mark, like he'd been badly scorched. What's worse, I then noticed on the scorched side of his head. head, where his ear should have been. It was, it was hollow. Although I hadn't picked up on it at first, I then realized his tattered green clothes. They were not just jungle clothes. The clothes he was wearing, it was the same color of green that American soldiers wore in Vietnam, all the way back in the 60s, telling myself I must be seeing things. I try and snap myself out of it. I rub my eyes extremely hard, and I even look away and back at him, assuming he would just disappear. But there he still was, staring at me, and not knowing what to do, or even what to say,

I just continued to stare back at him. Before he says to me, words I will never forget. The young man says to me, in clear, audible words, Careful miss, Charlie's everywhere. Only seconds after he said these words to me in the blink of an eye, almost as soon as he appeared, the young man was gone. What just happened? What, did I hallucinate? Was I just dreaming? There was no possible way I could have seen what I saw. He was like a, ghost. Once it happened, I remember feeling completely numb all over my body. I couldn't feel my legs or the ends of my fingers.

I felt like I wanted to cry, but not because I was scared, but because I suddenly, felt sad, and I didn't really know why. For the last few years, I learned not to believe something unless I see it with my own eyes, but I didn't even know what it was I saw. Although my first instinct was to tell someone, once the others were out of their tents, I chose to keep what happened to myself. I just didn't want to face the ridicule for the others to look at me like I was insane. I didn't even tell Aaron or Sophie, and they believed every fairy tale under the sun, but I I think everyone knew something was up with me. I mean, I was shaking.

I couldn't even finish my breakfast. Haley said I looked extremely pale and wondered if I was sick. Although I was in good health, physically anyway, Haley and the others were worried. I really mustn't have looked good, because fearing I may have contracted something from a mosquito bite, they were willing to ditch the expedition and take me back to sea of promise. Touched by how much they were looking out for me,

I insisted I was fine, and that it was. wasn't anything more than a stomach bug. After breakfast that morning, we pack up our tents and continue to follow along the trail. Everything was the same as the day before. We kept following the trail and occasionally stopped to document and film. Even though I convinced myself that what I saw must have been a hallucination, I could not stop replaying the words in my head. Careful, Miss.

Charlie's everywhere. There it was again, Charlie. Who is Charlie? Feeling like I needed to know, I asked Chris what he meant by Keep a Lookout for Charlie. Chris said in the Vietnam War movies he'd watched, that's what the American soldiers always called the enemy. What if I wasn't hallucinating after all? Maybe what I saw really was a ghost.

The ghost of an American soldier who died in the war, and believing the enemy was still lurking in the jungle somewhere, he was trying to warn me. But what if he wasn't? What if tourists really were vanishing here? And there was some truth to the legends? What if it wasn't Charlie the young man was warning me of? Maybe what he meant by Charlie was something entirely different. Even as I contemplated all this, there was still a part of me that chose not to believe it,

that somehow the jungle was playing tricks on me. I had always been a superstitious person. That's what happens when you grow up in the church. But why was it so hard for me to believe I saw a ghost? I finally had evidence of the supernatural right in front of me, and I was choosing not to believe it. What was it, Sophie said? If you see something, no you didn't.

If you hear something, no you didn't. Even so, the event that morning was still enough to spook me, spooked me enough that I was willing to heed the figment of my imagination's warning. Keeping in mind that tourists may well have gone missing here, I made sure to stay directly on the trail at all times, as though if I wandered out into the forest, I would be taken in an instant. What didn't help with this anxiety was that Tyler, Chris and Brody, quickly becoming bored of all the stopping and starting, suddenly pull out a football and start throwing it around amongst the jungle, zigzagging through the trees as though the trees were linebackers.

They asked me and Haley to play with them, but with the words of caution given to me that morning still fresh in my mind, I politely decline the offer and remain firmly on the trail. Although I still wasn't over what happened, constantly replaying the words like a broken record in my head, thankfully, it seemed as though for the rest of the day, nothing remotely as exciting was going to happen. But unfortunately, or more tragically, something did. By mid-afternoon, we had made further progress along the trail. The heat during the day was intense, but luckily by now, the skies above had blessed us with momentous rain. Seeping through the trees, we were spared from being soaked and instead given a light shower to keep us cool.

Yet again, Aaron and his crew stopped to film, and while they did, Tyler brought out the very same football, and the three guys were back to playing their games. I cannot tell you how many times someone hurled the ball through the forest only to hit a tree-linebacker, whereafter they had to go forage for it amongst the tropical floor. Now, finding a clearing off trail in which to play, Chris runs far ahead in anticipation of receiving the ball. I can still remember him shouting, Brody, hit me up, hit me!

Brody hurls the ball long and hard in Chris's direction, and facing the ball, all the while running further along the clearing, Chris stretches, catches the ball, and, he just vanishes. One minute he was there, Then the other, he was gone. Tyler and Brody call out to him, but Chris doesn't answer. Haley and I leave the trail towards them to see what's happened, when suddenly we hear Tyler scream. Chris! The sound of that initial scream still haunts me, because when we catch up to Brody and Tyler,

standing over something down in the clearing, we realize what has happened. What Tyler and Brody were standing over was a hole, a six feet deep hole in the ground, and in that hole was Chris. But we didn't just find Chris trapped inside the hole because it wasn't just a hole, it wasn't just a trap, it was a death trap, Chris was dead. In the hole with him was what had to be at least a dozen, long and sharp, rust-eaten metal spikes. We didn't even know if he was still alive at first because he had landed face down, face down on the spikes. They were protruding from different parts of him. One had gone straight through his wrist, another out of his leg, and one straight through the right of his rib cage. Honestly, he, Chris looked like he was

crucified, crucified face down. Once the initial shock had worn off, Tyler and Brody climbed very quickly, but carefully down into the hole, trying to push their way through the metal spikes that repelled them from getting to Chris. But by the time they did, it didn't take long for them or us to realize Chris wasn't breathing. One of the spikes had gone through his throat. For as long as I live, I will never be able to forget that image, of looking down into the hole and seeing Chris's lifeless, impaled body just lying there on top of those spikes. It looked like someone had toppled over an idol, an idol of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,

he was on the cross. What made this whole situation far worse was that when Aaron, Sophie, Steve, and Miles catch up to us, instead of being grieved or even shocked, Miles leans over the trap-hole and instantly begins to film. Tyler and Brody, upon seeing this, were furious. Carelessly clawing their way out of the hole, they yell and scream after him. What the hell do you think you're doing? Put the damn camera away.

That's our friend. Climbing back onto the surface, Tyler and Brody try to grab Miles' camera from him, and when he wouldn't let go, Tyler aggressively rips it from his hands. Coming to Miles' aide, Aaron shouts back at them. Leave him alone. This is a documentary. Without even a second thought, Brody hits Aaron square in the face, breaking his glasses and knocking him down. Even though we were both still in extreme shock, hyperventilating over what just happened

minutes earlier, Haley and I tried our best to keep the peace, Haley dragging Brody away, while I basically threw myself in front of Tyler. Once all of the commotion had died down, Tyler announced to everyone, That's it, we're getting out of here. And by we, he meant the four of us. Grabbing me protectively by the arm, Tyler pulls me away with him, while Brody takes Haley, and we all head back towards the trail in the direction we came. Thinking I would never see Sophie or the others again, I then hear behind us.

If you insist on going back, just watch out for mines. Mines. Stopping in our tracks, Brody and Tyler turned to ask what the heck Aaron is talking about. 16% of Vietnam is still contaminated by landmines and other explosives. 600,000 at least. They could literally be anywhere. Even with a potentially broken nose, Aaron could not help himself when it came to end.

educating and patronizing others. And you're only telling us this now? said Tyler. We're in the middle of the damn jungle. Why the hell didn't you say something before? Would you have come with us if we did? Besides, who comes to Vietnam and doesn't fact-check all the dangers? I thought you were travelers. It goes without saying, but we headed back without them.

For Tyler, Brody, and even Haley, their feeling was that if those four maniacs wanted to keep risking their lives for a stupid documentary, they could. We were getting out of here, and once we did, we would go straight to the authorities so they could find and retrieve Chris's body. We had to leave him there. We had to leave him inside the trap, but we made sure he was fully covered and no scavengers could get to him. Once we did that, we were out of there. As much as we regretted this whole journey, we knew the worst of everything was probably behind us, and that we couldn't take any responsibility for anything that happened to Aaron's team. But I regret not asking Sophie to come with us, not making her come with us. Sophie was a good person. She didn't deserve

to be caught up in all of this. None of us did. Hurriedly making our way back along the trail, I couldn't help but put the pieces together. Some things work better together, like Narz's soft matte complete concealer and radiant creamy concealer. Soft matte complete concealer erases and blurs imperfections with full coverage. Then, radiant creamy concealer evens and brightens with a luxurious texture and radiant finish. Two concealers. One,

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Is that what the soldier's ghost was trying to tell me? Is that what he meant by Charlie? He wasn't warning me of the enemy. He was trying to warn me of the relics they had left. Aaron said there were still 600,000 explosives left in Vietnam from the war. Was it possible there were still traps left here too? I didn't know, but what I did know was, although I chose not to believe what I saw that morning,

that it was just a hallucination. I still heated the apparition's warning, never once straying off the trail, and it more than likely saved my life. Then I remembered why we came here. We came here to find what happened to the missing tourists. Did they meet the same fate as Chris? Is that what really happened? They either stepped on a hidden landmine or fell to their deaths.

Was that the cause of the whole mystery? The following day, we finally made our way out of the jungle and back to the sea of promise. We told the authorities what happened, and a full search and rescue was undertaken to find Aaron's team. A bomb disposal unit was also sent out to find any further traps or explosives, although they did find at least a dozen landmines and one further trap. What they didn't find was any evidence whatsoever for the missing tourists, no bodies, no clothing, or any other personal items. As far as they were concerned, we were the first people to trek through that jungle for a very long time. But there's something else. The rescue team, who went out to save Aaron,

Aaron, Sophie, Steve, and Miles from an awful fate. They never found them. They never found anything. Whatever the Vietnam Triangle was, it had claimed them. To this day, I still can't help but feel an overwhelming guilt. That we safely found our way out of there. And they never did. I don't know what happened to the missing tourists.

I don't know what happened to Sophie, Aaron, and the others. And I don't know if there really are creatures lurking deep within the jungle. of Vietnam, and although I was left traumatized, forever haunted by the experience, whatever it was I saw in that jungle, I choose to believe it saved my life, and for that reason I have fully renewed my faith. To this day, I'm still teaching English as a second language. I'm still traveling the world, making my way through one continent before moving on to the next, but for as long as I live, I will forever keep this testimony. Never again will I ever step inside. a jungle, never again.