Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary Stories For A Chilling And Dark Night That Will Fill You With Fear | Reddit Horror Stories, Bone Chilling Horror Stories

Episode Date: August 18, 2023

These are 7 Scary Stories For A Chilling And Dark Night That Will Fill You With Fear | Reddit Horror Stories, Bone Chilling Horror Stories Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Accomplished_Ask3563/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/eternalvampricsoul/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Lumpy-Ambassador100/►https://www.reddit.com/user/codeman404/►https://www.reddit.com/user/darnelIlI/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Theoperatorboi/►Anonymous Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:11:21 Story 2 00:16:18 Story 3 00:28:50 Story 4 00:32:12 Story 5 00:37:51 Story 6 00:45:25 Story 7 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #forest #horrorstories #cryptids #deepwoods 💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

to your family, you're lucky to make it out alive. Streaming on Peacock. These men are going to come after me. Taking them out. It's my only chance. Put a bullet in her head. From the co-creator of Ozark. Looks like a family was running drugs.

Execution style, killing it's rare for the keys. And it leads on who they might have been running for. The cartel killed my family. I'm going to kill them. All of them. MIA. Streaming now. Only on Peacock. Not loving your AT&T or T-Mobile bill.

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It must provide a recent consumer mobile bill in the name of the person, regained me the deal, additional terms, conditions, and restrictions apply. Most nights I sleep like a literal baby. I knock out after I am full and I wake up when I'm hungry. It's like my internal clock. Last night, however, I was studying for my final exam and I started feeling sleepy as it was getting really late. But I just wanted to get a few more practice questions in before I knocked out since my eyes were already sore from the lack of sleep. I finished up the last of the practiced questions and got onto my bed ready for my power nap of four hours before I had to wake up and

face my biggest nightmare. I stretch out my limbs and make my way towards my bed, getting so ready to crash. I get under the covers and cover every single part of my body, except for my face since I like to be swaddled when I sleep. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes, forty-five minutes. I was not falling asleep no matter what. I wasn't hungry. I wasn't feeling uncomfortable, but I was tired as hell. I sat up frustrated and feeling flustered from how hard I was trying to fall asleep. I looked around my studio apartment, and a sudden urge of needing some fresh air had me putting on a hoodie and sweatpants. It's literally the middle of the summer, but I was trying to make myself look buff and like a man. I hide my hair in a bun and put the hood over my head. Just to preface this,

I never take walks in the nighttime. Never. I live in New York City, and it's not even safe to walk around in the morning, not to mention at night. I was thinking of just standing near my building and taking a quick breather. I wasn't planning on wandering too far. I grab everything I need and I head outside, but my surroundings genuinely shocked me. The street lamps lit the streets in every corner. There were close to no blind spots. I live in Queens, a more rural area, so you would have to walk a good few streets from the resident block into an area where there are stores and restaurants. I look around and look at my phone. The time read 3.36 a.m.

There was not a single person walking the streets, however, there were still a few cars driving up and down the streets once in a while. I walked to the end of my building and suddenly remembered there was a Chinese barbecue restaurant that was open until 5 a.m. in the morning and reopens at 10 p.m. that same day. The idea of grilled chicken and beef skewers has me waddling towards the direction of the restaurant. The walk was fairly quiet, and I slowly approached one of the bigger intersections where the buses ran, and oddly I saw a person. It was an old lady sitting on the bench at the bus stop, and instantly I felt a pang of sadness hit my chest. My nose tingles, and the urge to cry rises above all my other emotions.

It was so sad to see an old lady out at this time. It was so late, and she was all by herself. She was probably lost. I walked towards the bus stop, and I didn't want to scare her. but I also wanted to make sure she was okay, so I stood a good ten feet behind her and checked the app for when the bus would arrive. The app said that the next bus was going to be in ten minutes since buses run by the hour late at night. Sure enough, at around the ten minute mark the bus came, and I heaved a sigh of relief, happy that the lady was going to get help finally.

I start backing away slowly as I see the bus get close to the bus stop and slightly slow down. I looked at the bus, and the bus driver took a quick glance at the bus stop before he sped off. I stood there shocked and in disbelief that the bus driver would leave an elderly lady stranded in the middle of the night. I looked down at my phone to check when the next bus was going to arrive, and it was going to be 49 minutes before the next bus was coming through. I was racking my brain on what I can do to help. Do I call the police and report a lost elderly?

Or do I maybe ask her where she lives and call her an Uber? finally deciding that maybe I should ask for her opinion first before I make a decision. I looked up and she was gone. I couldn't have been looking at my phone for more than a few minutes. I jog up to the bus stop and look at all the connecting streets to see if I can catch a glimpse of which direction she went in so I can catch up to her. I didn't see anyone. Maybe she's a fast walker? Because two, three minutes would be enough for me to walk a block. Not knowing really what to do, I continue on what I came out to do. I continued walking down and two three streets later the bustling street came into view,

and it no longer felt like 4 a.m. in the morning. There were multiple parties of people walking up and down the streets. I walked into the restaurant to smell of barbecue filling every pore of my body. I was in food heaven. I ordered a chicken and beef skewer combo, which was five chicken and five beef grilled skewers. My food was ready in five, ten minutes, and I opted to take it to go because I needed to get home and sleep. I lost a whole hour of sleep since I made the decision to come out and buy food. I ate my skewers happily as I made my way back home,

once again pulling myself out of the bustling streets and into the quiet neighborhood. I was humming softly to myself and listening to the sound of my shoes hitting the ground. Not just my footsteps, I hear footsteps behind me as well. It felt like it was trying to mask my footsteps, but always a few milliseconds slower. I turned around suddenly nervous, anxiety shot up from the pit of my stomach. My appetite dissipated within seconds, and I saw the lady who was sitting at the bus stop maybe 20 feet behind me. She also stopped walking, and she was staring blankly at me, feeling slightly better since she was an older lady, and I was a healthy female college student.

I stared back at her wondering if she was going to approach me for help. The silence dragged on, and I started getting a little skeptical of why we were just staring at each other. The slight relief I felt earlier was replaced by a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Before I could figure out what to do next, I felt my feet turn around and walk towards my house. It was like my body was telling me to get the hell out of there. Now I was focusing 100 times more on the sound and footsteps around me. Sure enough, I heard a set of footsteps mirroring mine, and it actually sounded closer than before. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and a chill ran down my back. I felt panic surged through my veins, and without a second word I sprinted down the streets. I observed my surroundings and saw the bus stop where I first

spotted the lady. From the bus stop my building was still about five streets away. I continued down one more street before I realized all I heard was the sound of my own footsteps and my heart pumping in my ears. I slowly slowed down and took a quick glance behind me and I didn't see the lady. I came to a full stop and turned around looking for the lady. I looked further down and she was two streets away from me, exactly where I left her. Confused by this, I started walking backwards down the street towards my building and keeping my eyes strained on her. She stood still for maybe about a minute before she started walking towards me. She was walking at an alarmingly slow pace, almost as if she's saying, run all you want, I will eventually catch up. My hands ran cold from

thee and shook from the fear that gripped my body. Deciding not to waste another second out on the streets, I turned around and ran full speed towards the direction of my building, and when I was one street away from my building, I started to slow down, and started jogging instead of sprinting. I took a quick glance behind me as I continued to jog towards my building, and what I saw made me stop to take a closer look. The lady was on the ground on all fours crawling towards me, and she wasn't crawling slowly like a baby. She was crawling so fast. The three-street distance I kept between us instantly became two, and she was closing the distance between us so fast I could see her facial features growing clearer and clearer. She was wearing a smile that was inhumanely wide.

If a regular person tried to smile like that, it would definitely hurt. I surge of chills ran down my back. I felt like I was frozen in place as she was crawling towards. A screech surged through the air followed by a series of laughter that I can only describe as terrifying. She was now only a street away, and I felt tingles run down my legs before I forced myself to run. I needed to run away. No longer caring about the food I was still holding, I dropped it on the ground and started running for my life, fear gripping every cell in my body, my knees threatening to give out, but I knew I needed to keep running. My building was right in front of me now, and not knowing how far back that creature was. A scream ripped out of my throat so loud I scared myself.

I wanted others to wake up and come down and help me. I needed to do. I needed to be a little bit of to catch the attention of other people. My studio apartment was on the third floor and I was screaming my head off as I raced up the stairs, not knowing if the sound of the following footsteps was simply the sound of my footsteps bouncing off the walls or from the creature that was crawling on all fours. But I was not about to find out. Adrenaline coursed through my body as I pulled the key out of my pocket and shoved it into the keyhole. In one swift motion I turned the knob, opened the door, and threw myself into the room bringing the door with me and slamming it shut. My door automatically locks upon closing but I had an extra security notch

and I pulled the metal chain into the notch before I collapsed on the ground exhausted from the running. I closed my eyes trying to calm down my heartbeat as I felt like I was going to jump out of my chest. A sudden ear-piercing sound froze me from all thoughts and action. I whipped my head around and I saw a face pressed against my window with the same wide smile but this time I could see her eyes. It was as wide as golf balls, and there was something different about it. There were no pupils.

I sat on the ground in shock as I watched her run her long nails across the window, making a noise so high-pitched I had to cover my ears. It was like the sound of forcing a piece of chalk against the blackboard. I jump up and run towards the door. I unleashed the chain and run across from me banging on the door. The middle-aged couple opened with concern on their face.

told them that there was some weird creature on my window, which obviously does sound kind of dumb. They hesitantly make their way to my studio apartment and look around, and there was nothing there. It was dead silent, like everything that I saw was all in my head. I ran towards the window, and looked around, and like they said, there was nothing out there. The couple patted my back and told me to stop watching so many horror movies and helped me close my door as they returned to their own homes, just to be sure I made sure my window was locked and closed my blinds before I collapsed on the ground once again. Not sure how long I laid on the floor because when I opened my eyes again, it was due to my alarm ringing.

I know I am not dreaming because I am still in my hoodie and my shoes are still on. And I have an exam today. I don't know what that thing was or what it wanted for me. I just know that I am never, ever going out at night ever again. 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, Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is giving one person a $1.6 million dream package.

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Monopoly is a trademark of Hasbro. Hasbro is not a sponsor of this promotion. My dog, Bailey, went missing a few days ago. I'd been out all day with my friend, bearing in mind I'm usually home the majority of the time due to being unable to work, so the dog is never alone, and usually, if he is, it's not for too long. I also live with my parents and brother, so a lot of the time there's at least one person in the house. Monday, I had gotten home later than usual. My parents hadn't got home from work yet, and my brother had left to stay at his girlfriends a little after I'd left.

As usual, I'd walked into the house shouting to Bailey that I was home. I walked into the kitchen to unlock his crate and let him out when my heart sank. The crate door was wide open. I didn't panic straight away. I thought maybe my brother had forgotten to put him in his crate. Although deep down I knew that the camera's an alarm would have picked up any movement. It had been about ten minutes after I got home when I realized that the back door was still open. I immediately rushed outside looking around the garden to see if Bailey was out there.

there, but within seconds I realized a part of the fence was broken, and he must have somehow squeezed through it. I ended up calling my parents, and then my brother, who was adamant that he'd locked the back door and put the dog in his crate, although it wouldn't have been the first time he had forgotten to do so. I then ended up checking the cameras, that in my panic I completely forgot about. This, however, freaked me out a bit. On the camera you could clearly see my brother putting Bailey in his crate, locking it, and then checking the camera. that all the doors and windows were closed. My heart sank. I felt violently ill. The only other way he could have got out would have been if someone broke in. The thought bought up so many questions.

How did they unlock the door? How was there nothing broken? Why didn't the camera movement notification go off? I forwarded the cameras to see if I could find who let him out and opened the door. Maybe my brother came back again. I got to one part in the recording and realized the dog was no longer in his crate. The door was wide open as I had found it. I went back a bit, but the recording didn't seem to have picked up any movement between the time he was in his crate to when he was gone. Nothing had shown up on any of the other cameras either. At this point everyone was absolutely heartbroken. We didn't think any more of the weird situation, and started asking around if anyone had seen him. We put up posters, posted things on social media. We were so

determined to find him. I started getting nightmares after the first night he was gone. I'd often wake up in a cold sweat multiple times in the night. I couldn't stomach the awful images and thoughts surfacing in my head about what could have happened to him. I have been so attached to this dog the moment we got him to ever think that he wasn't going to come back. The thought was just unbearable. So when we found him today, Thursday morning, I felt like I could actually breathe again. We were all so relieved to have him back. That was until now. Bailey had been off ever since we found him, but originally it was just brushed off because he'd never been away from us that long, and we thought it had obviously shaken him up a bit. My parents still keep saying that,

but his eyes, they're not his eyes, they're not those cute, innocent little puppy dog eyes. They're dark and cold and empty. And I know you could just say that it was from being alone outside for days, but there's just something wrong and I know it. No one believes me, but that is not our dog. Bailey was playful and would cuddle up next to you and you'd feel so happy and loved. But this thing acts and pretends to be Bailey, but I swear it's not. The way it stares at me, like I'm some sort of prey. When it cuddles up next to me, all I feel is cold.

My anxiety feels at an all-time high like the dog, the thing right next to me is dangerous. It looks at me like it knows, it knows I know. I've ended up staying at my friend's house for a few days. I just don't feel safe at home. I've been looking back on the cameras over and over, and I swear I can see some kind of shadow. My friend said my brain is making it up because I want to see something, for some kind of explanation.

Maybe she's right, but I don't know. I swear to you in the back of the garden, the same hour Bailey went missing. There's a face in the bushes, and it's not a human one. The figure is so hard to see, but it looks lanky and on all fours. And it's staring right at the camera. That figure is the same silhouette I can see, on the kitchen floor on the camera after Bailey miraculously disappears. It's completely unnerving.

I want to stop looking, but I can't seem to pull my face away from the screen. I don't what's going on. I just know that that dog at home, if it even is one, is not Bailey. And I have a sinking feeling it'll do anything to make sure no one else finds out that it's not. This is a recollection of the events that occurred on the February of 2023. As we got out of the rented car, my dad asked me, ready for the tracks? I replied, of course. Little did I know that I was ready for the tracks, but not ready for what was about to happen. We started walking towards the seated ski lift. We entered the enclosure of the station for the lift, and as the seat slowly veered towards us, we sat down. I asked my dad, which path are we going to ride on? My dad thinks for a few solid seconds,

and then answers, let's go off slope. I hesitate for a second, flashbacks in my mind reminding me of what off-slope felt like back in Switzerland, and then agree with my dad. Yeah, let's go off slope, why not? We got off the lift and started thinking, should we start here or go even further up? We decided to go even further up, actually the furthest up we could go. It was that decision, the decision to go to the top of the mountain, that proved terribly wrong. We reached the highest point you can go to by lift. I put down my skis, my dad put down his snowboard, and we checked if everything was in our backpacks. We brought a metallic thermos with tea, some cookies, flashlights just in case, a few hand warmers, and a navigator, also just in case. I put the

navigator in my left side pocket because we both had small backpacks, and it didn't fit in them. Looks like we are ready to go, said my dad. I nodded. I strapped into my skis, and my dad strapped on his snowboard. We took off, down the mountain, and we reached a pretty high speed quite quickly, maybe 30 or 40 kilometers per hour, I'd say. I wanted to go in front of my dad, and I carefully overtook him. I turned around to give him a thumbs up, turned back around to face forward, and in one second I was riding through the deep snow. In the next, I was flying downwards. Everything seemed to slow down at that moment. I looked downwards, and in my seconds of flight saw something interesting. The snow had fallen downwards, taking me with it. At first I collided with

the hard snowy ground with my left side, but then my head caught up, and everything went black. The first thing I saw after hitting the ground was my dad's face, as he was trying to shake me awake. I mumbled something incomprehensible, and as I started to wake, I became aware that the navigator we brought had been crushed by the fall. Oh no, I thought to myself. As I got up, I noticed that my skis and my dad's snowboard had been snapped by the fall, and that we were in some kind of cavity. As I looked up, I saw the huge height we had fallen off. A menacing question started creeping into my mind. How are we going to get out? The sides of the hole we had fallen into were very smooth, and there was no way we could climb up them. My dad came up to me and started

explaining what he saw when I started falling. I was riding right behind you when I saw how you quickly fell down the hole. I tried to stop, but I was too fast, and fell in right behind you. I didn't want to land on you, so I jumped forward a bit, and landed first on my board at an angle, so it snapped under all of the weight, and I landed on my butt. As we together thought of a way out, my dad decided to knock on all sides of the supposed cave we fell into. All the knocks were the same, until one of them sounded very hollow. It was a sheet of ice on the wall, and the first idea that came to mind of what to do was to kick the ice down. The sheet cracked on the second kick and completely shattered on the fifth. As I looked inside, I saw something out of place.

Metal structures. We were looking inside a room of some sort. The walls were white concrete and there were some kind of metallic machines. We walked in, confused, and a little creeped out. Why and when was this built? I thought to myself, was this maybe some secret laboratory? It was eerily silent, except for the occasional dripping of water. As we walked further through the structure, the scent of mildew and dust hit our noses, and we started seeing other metallic machines with many different kinds of claws and hooks. It all looked very unsettling now. The light from the hole was fading steadily, and at some point we had to pull out our flashlights when it got too dark for us to see properly. We were maybe ten or so minutes in, is when we heard the first

sound, except for water droplets since we first entered the laboratory. It was the ever so faint sound of what appeared to be footsteps of some kind. I gave the signal to my father to turn off our flashlights and wait. Everything went silent for a few moments. The steps resumed after the five seconds that felt like ours, because of the fear that somebody was there with us. We got the chance to listen to the footsteps closely, and they sounded off. They were offbeat and very slow. They didn't sound human. Whatever it was, it was far away, and there was no way it heard. us, so we were relatively safe, for now. As we headed further in, I took my time to look at the equipment, scattered across the rotting tables, forgotten, and seemingly hadn't been touched for 80 years.

That theory proved correct when I saw a date on one of the crates which was used to transport the equipment, the crate being used in 1943. The date didn't surprise me all that much, since it all looked as old as it indicated. My dad walked over and said, 1943, that's World War II era. Austria was occupied by Nazi Germany back then. Hmm, what use did they have for this lab in 1943? Nuclear or bio-weapons development. As I looked around the room, trying to spot any hints that may give away the purpose of the underground facility.

My eyes stopped on many reddish-brown stains, scattered across the floor and walls. I tried to convince myself that it was just a coffee accident and not what it looked like. I decided to follow the Stain Trail and called out to my dad to do the same. I found out where the trail led only a ten-second walk through the rooms to find the trail's start. It was a glass chamber of some sort. It has a toilet sink and a bed. The bed was also stained with that putrid color of brownish red. There was a spot on the glass wall where the glass was broken and it seemed that someone, or something, had broken out of the chamber rather than in, since most of the glass shards were laying outside the enclosure. And at that moment,

I knew what this lab was for. It was for experimenting on people. Since this all happened during World War II, it is a solid guess that they were experimenting on prisoners. As I was looking around the and the horror-inducing chamber, when I heard the footsteps again, but this time they were louder and way faster. I realized they were getting louder and louder each second. It was heading toward us. I signaled my dad to keep very quiet. I didn't notice that my flashlight was still on, but it was already too late to turn it off. The beam of light was pointing directly at the thing that had been walking around the lab this whole time. I was dead silent as I turned my head to gaze at the creature and was horrified. It was disturbingly humanoid, except its skin had turned a grayish tone and its eyes were missing.

It was blind. That's it. That's why it didn't see the beam of light. This meant that if we were very silent, then we could sneak past it and into another room. We were very lucky to find a room with doors that had working locks, and we sneaked inside, and as silently as we could, close the doors and locked the locks. We sat down on the floor, tired of the mix of adrenaline and fear. I decided to drink some tea and eat a little bit. I opened my backpack and realized that I hadn't closed the thermos tightly enough, and it had leaked tea into my backpack, but the amount leaked was small. I drank the tea and ate a cookie. I finished drinking. I put the thermos on the floor. My dad gave me a hand warmer, and we started deciding which way we should go. We only had two choices, since there were only two doors in the room. One led back to where we came from, and the other led to the other part of the laboratory.

Well, we aren't going back to whatever the hell that thing was. My dad reasoned, Well, then the obvious choice is the door that leads further into the lab. I started putting my things back into my backpack, when to my horror, the thermos I had brought with me slipped out of my hand because it was wet from the leak earlier. A loud, bang! sounded in all directions.

I quickly picked the thermos up, the steps started again, the loudest yet. We quickly exchanged glances with my dad and sprinted as silently as we could, out of the room. As we ran away and closed the doors behind us, I could hear a menacing banging on the door we closed. Then we heard a horrifying, crack, as the locked door seemingly was bashed in by the creature. How strong is it? I thought to myself in terror. We sped up our sprint, as we heard a banging yet again. This time on the other door we closed while we ran. We ran even further when I noticed something

different in the structure of the lab. It was a staircase. I signaled my dad to go up the stairs, and we started ascending. Even though we only went up three stories, it felt like a lot more. As we reached the three stories, we noticed that the stairs end there. We ran towards what hopefully was the exit of this wretched place. There was a ladder,

and with no hesitation, I and my dad quickly climbed up. My dad went first, so if there was a locked pothole, he could bash it open, and bash it open he did, when we realized that it had corroded to the ground, so we needed a lot of force to open it.

I hope the creature can't climb ladders, I thought, while the footsteps grew ever louder. With a final thud to the rusted metal cover, it flew open. We hurried outside with unimaginable speed. As we got out, we noticed there was a lock on the outer side of the cover. What would have happened to us if it was closed? It's best that we'll never know. With the same unimaginable speed, we threw the cover back on the lab entrance and locked it. My dad proposed the idea that we put a boulder on the cover,

so that the creature will have no way to get out. We can only hope that it is not strong enough to break through, my dad said. I was too tired to respond. I just nodded. The adrenaline had started to wear off, and before I knew it, I collapsed into the snow. My dad lay down beside me, and we lay there for a while. After we got a little strength back from our rest, we started a mix of climbing and sliding down the mountain. We had ended up on the peak of the mountain after we climbed out.

and there was a pretty long way down. As soon as we reached the first track, we waved for people to slow down. One person stopped to help us, and we asked them to call the helpline. We told him to call a snowmobile, and it arrived after about 15 minutes. We were happy that the person on the snowmobile didn't ask anything, and just drove us straight to the hospital. We were let out of the hospital the same day, because we only has minor bruises. When we arrived home that day, I just went straight.

to my bed and collapsed into sleep. The next few days were spent mostly trying to find any information about a laboratory in the Austrian mountains and found nothing, except on the fifth day of research, when I was ready to give up. I found a website with what appeared to be info on the lab. It was some kind of website, and the first thing I saw when I went to see it was the big message not secure. I didn't hesitate even for one second. I immediately clicked on the button, proceed to the website. The website looked sketchy as hell, but I was very desperate for information. I read the text and it said this. The laboratory was built in the Austrian Alps in late in the year 1940, and it was used to experiment on humans. The laboratory had been known to infect people

with several parasites and viruses, but it was quickly abandoned in May of 1945. The most probable cause of its abandonment is the end of World War II, but it is not certain. The laboratory has not been even to this day its location is unknown. I didn't know what to think of this. I accepted this as truth because of what I've seen. I went to bed and didn't think of the incident much until one day. Early Monday morning, July 10, 2023, at about 12.50 a.m. I was driving Matt's 2020 Toyota Yaris back to his house. After getting some gas and going to the local 24-7 CVS, he asked about Tower Street in Bristol. We were in Central East Providence at this point. He asked me if I had ever been there or heard of it. When I told him I had never heard of it, let alone been there,

he told me about a time that he went when he was young. I will paraphrase what he said. When he was younger, he went there with a group of friends. They went about halfway down the street and shut the car off, and stayed there for about 30 to 40 minutes. When they turned the car back on, there was writing in the fog on the windows. I wish, this is what happened when he and I went. This is what happened when Matt and I went to the cursed road. We turn on to the road, and there was this relatively newly developed neighborhood at the top of the street, so we roll through the neighborhood at a reasonable pace. Once we got to where the streetlights stopped, the woods take over the road. We got to the first bend, and then we saw about

10 to 15 deer just standing there on the road. I slowly cruised past them, using the horn when necessary to scare them out of the road. At the second bend in the road, stuff got even sketchier. At this point, the trees enveloped the road completely to the point where we couldn't see the sky or moonlight anymore. We kept going until we got to the point of the road

that is private, turned around, shut the car off, and waited for the lights to turn off. After about one or two minutes of complete silence and darkness, our eyes started to adjust to the darkness. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw this large emaciated figure that was about eight feet tall. It looked like a mix of a man and a buck

standing on its hind legs, walking toward us slowly. At the same time, I saw this figure in the rearview mirror. Matt saw a glowing white figure about five or six feet tall with a wispy tail crossed the road quickly. It was about two car lengths in front of us. I looked down from the mirror and saw the same thing and immediately turned the car on, slammed it into drive, and floored it out of there.

It didn't end there. The creature I saw in the room, rearview mirror started chasing us and kept up with us. At this point, I looked down at the speedometer, and we are going 120 plus miles per hour. We hit a hill, and the wheels left the road surface. The view of the creature was obstructed temporarily. When the car landed back on the ground, the creature was even closer than before. This creature kept tailing us until we left the forested area and got back to the neighborhood, where I felt safe enough to slow down to an average speed. We drove back to Matt's house in utter disbelief and silence. When we got home, we checked

the outside of the car, and written in the dirt on the back of the car where the words, Leave now. After reading this, my side started to burn. It was as if I just got scratched. When I lifted my shirt, I asked Matt if there was anything there, and sure enough, there were three scratch marks in perfect lines, like someone took their middle three fingers and dragged them along my side. Please someone help me find out what this was. My friend and I both work as nurses at the same hospital. It kind of makes the insane hours bearable. We generally don't have much time to hang out, but whenever we run into each other, we crack a joke or two, unless we really don't have time. About two months ago, I ran into him on my way to the break room. We joked around

for a little bit, and he seemed to have some time on his hands. I asked him if he didn't have anything to do. He told me about a new patient that had just come in. A young man, maybe early 20s. Nothing seemed wrong with the man, but he was completely unable to move. After some tests, the doctors were left clueless, but were sure the man was stable, so they left him for the time being. My friend, however, was asked to stay close, to observe, and to make notes if anything unusual happened. My friend told me he just briefly left the room because he felt a bit uneasy. I laughed, at him and jokingly started making fun of him. Scared of a paralyzed man.

Be careful now. Maybe he'll turn into a sleep paralysis demon. He chuckled, but he didn't bite back like he usually would. He seemed nervous and told me to come into the room with him. When we got close to the bed, I understood what freaked him out so much. The man, while lying completely still, barely even breathing, had his eyes open, and they were staring straight at me, following me through the room. As we slowly approached, I got nervous too.

This wasn't very common. I greeted him and asked him to blink if he could hear me. He didn't. His eyes remained open for an unnaturally long time. See, freaky, isn't it? My friend whispered. But as soon as he did, the man's eyes rolled back into his head, and after what seemed like an eternity,

when they eventually rolled back, his piercing eyes were now focused on my friend. I told my friend that that's definitely not normal and we should inform a doctor. but he didn't respond. He was staring right back at the man, eyes wide open. I thought he was joking at first, so I laughed nervously and hesitantly punched him on the shoulder, but he didn't respond at all. His body didn't even move on the impact. My break was halfway over at that point, and I really didn't feel like staying there any longer, so I left, looking for a doctor. I didn't

want to be embarrassed, so I didn't really tell her any details, just that there was something she should see, and that my friend was too busy making notes to leave. Luckily she followed me, but when we got to the room, everything had changed. My friend was just sitting on a chair, notepad in hand. The room looked brighter than before somehow, and when I approached my friend, he seemed surprised to see me there. Haven't seen you in a minute, he said with a big smile. Was it last week?

It had been about a week ago before I ran into him that day, but I left him in that room not even five minutes prior. I, for good reason, was very confused. When I left the room, it seemed like he was possessed by some sort of demon, but now he was completely fine, smiling, laughing like always. I asked him if he was okay, and he said that, of course, he was. I didn't really know how to react, so I said that my lunchtime was running out and left to get a coffee. The rest of my shift was like a normal shift, long and exhausting. I kind of managed to forget about what had happened and made myself believe that he was

probably pranking me, or I had somehow imagined it, I don't sleep a lot, so it added up. I work late shifts, so when I finished it was dark outside and the hospital was a lot quieter. Weekdays are usually not too bad, less drunk idiots falling on their heads. On my way out, however, I had to go past the room with the paralyzed patient, unless I wanted to double the length of my walk. I didn't. I decided I would just quickly walk through the corridor and ignore the room. It couldn't hurt me anyways. It was dark. It's not like that never happened, but it definitely wasn't common. All I could really see was the emergency exit sign on the other side of the corridor. I pulled out my phone,

turned on my torch, and started walking. The room was ever approaching, but I had decided to go, so I had to commit now. When I got close, I slowed down a little, keeping my eyes on the door, making sure it stayed shut. But then suddenly it burst open, and my friend came stumbling out, Eyes red like he had been crying and there were suddenly bald spots on his head. He crawled over to me and clung to my leg. Please get me out. I didn't know what to do so yelled for help. No one came and he kept repeating the same phrase over and over, louder every time.

It turned to screaming, more and more powerful until he started coughing up blood. I grabbed him by the shoulders and asked him what was wrong, and then I realized that he hadn't blinked a single time. Let's get out of here, okay? I tried to sound confident and brave, but I'm not sure I hid my fear well. I tried to pull him up, but it was like his legs had stopped working. His screaming stopped and he looked me straight in the eyes. Protect me, he said. Protect me from him when I go. His entire body went weak, and he fell to the floor. I heard a laugh from inside the room with the paralyzed patient. I rushed in, but there

was no one there, just an open window. I looked outside but didn't see anyone. My friend ended up in the same bed, completely paralyzed, but his eyes always open, staring at anyone that dares enter his room. I haven't gone to see him since the incident, and I don't wish to. On a camping trip with friends in the backwoods of southern Georgia, at my cousin's grandfather's property, the really old site, he didn't maintain it well. There was a large cabin meeting house, lots of property, a lake, and a large wooded area that we like to explore. There was a river that wound through the woods, and we built huge forts along it.

We camped by the shore of the lake. It was low, but on the opposite shore, a huge ridge rose with trees on either side. It reminded me of a carriage road. On our first night there, we stayed up until about one. I needed to use the bathroom, so I went to the meeting house, since we slept in tents. It was a wood-paneled, ancient building full of animal heads, dark, with few working lights. I stepped in, turned on the light, and paused. The animal heads had all positioned to be facing the door.

Unnerved, I used the restroom and stepped out only to find them looking right at me, on the other side of the room from where they were looking last. I ran out, terrified, then realized I hadn't turned off the light. I looked back and was about to open the door to shut off the light. When through the blinds, I saw a black menacing figure in the corner of the room, this time the heads had swiveled to face it. Then, of its own accord, the lights shut off. I ran to my tent and zipped myself up.

I didn't sleep much that night. The next day we were exploring the woods and discovered two places that, unbeknownst to us, would be the most terrifying places we had ever been later that night. We had built a fort along the river earlier that day, and we were following the river up when we came across a peculiar structure. A large triangular fort-like place made of what appeared to be tree roots.

It was like a lean-to and was covered on the sides and top like a pyramid, but one side was slightly open like an entrance. Near the structure in an opposite triangle were three very deep holes. We were careful not to step in these. Inside the structure was a triangle-like object on the floor, made of what appeared to be finely whittled wood, very old, and covered in an unrecognizable hieroglyph typewriting. We chose not to disturb this, but to mark the spot and give us an observation point,

we laid logs across a nearby ditch in a Vietnam-style dugout and placed some large sticks with flags tied to them on top, so we could see the colors and know the spot. Then we found the ridge. The ridge started deep in the woods almost parallel to our campsite, then wound to the lake and made up most of the opposite shore. We walked along it for about 15 minutes, and noticed that the path was like a tree tunnel, and the fallen leaves were well trodden,

the path flat, like a carriage trail. All of a sudden we saw in the middle of the path an RV. Not just any RV, but an ancient RV from like the 60s like a van. We walked up and inspected it. It was filled with dust, and the inside had obviously not seen daylight in years with prominent sun marks on the seats. And yet, the inside was full of large, boxed packages and files. I tugged on the handle and tried to enter to my friend's delight. The door gave way and I found a file sitting on the seat. It was very dusty, so I slapped it against the dash and the dust fell away to reveal very faded letters. The only non-fated or humidified characters were the large, bold printed letters at the top. It read, Gay Sight 16, anomalous behavior detected,

structures common, manifestation present, keep high alert level. I noticed the box and pulled one over, opening the lid. It had a bunch of the finely whittled sticks, a gooey black substance in a jar, and what appeared to be an etched, polished metal sphere. The note in the box read, Station unsafe, will begin remote monitoring, the situation still undefined,

no further progress, holes still prevalent. I was very puzzled, so I pulled over another piece of paper lying on the seat. It seemed newer than the others, but still old, with a hole running along the edge. the decaying carcass of a bug lying stuck to the paper. I picked it up and read, Gay Site 16, Weekly Instruction, Inspect Lake Floor and Direction Bravo,

owner expected to arrive soon, be ready to stow equipment, another structure has appeared 0.6 miles away from your post direction, 223. End. I assumed the structures were referring to the wooden site, and that manifestation could refer either to weird occurrences or the black figure I had seen earlier. On our walk back, I and my friends felt like we were being watched, and I turned around to see a black figure dart behind a tree.

We began to sprint, and I kept seeing it in my periphery. However, later that day we were brainstorming what it might have been, and I realized that the neighbor's bred black labs, and that the figure I saw was probably one of his dogs chasing us. We went fishing that afternoon, and I caught a large black eel, slick and eyeless. It had large teeth and tried to snap at my fingers. I threw it back terrified, and it went back into the water. I discovered later that eels were not supposed to be living in that lake, and their appearance was unexpected. There was not a species nearby that matched what I had seen.

That night we played manhunt, and I went deep into the woods and hid with a friend in the dugout we built near the structure. About ten minutes into hiding, it's about 11.30, we saw a large, black figure, about ten feet in height rise from the structure and start walking slowly towards our dugout. It was a low-to-the-ground dugout with an entrance in the front and the back. We sprinted out the back entrance and towards our tents. We turned and saw the creature sprinting after us, catching up quickly. Suddenly, the creature stopped and looked at the ridge behind it at a very specific spot. It was a spot about 300 yards beyond the RV. Suddenly, there was a muzzle flash from the ridge and the creature started getting pelted with rounds of some caliber.

It screeched and began sprinting up the ridge, passing the RV in seconds. As it passed, the lights flickered on in the RV and then off again. The creature was beyond view in the darkness, but we heard screams of someone fat along the ridge. We slept inside the meeting house that night, and a thunderstorm rolled in. I woke up about 4 a.m. to see the creature standing

about 10 yards away from the cabin windows, head obscured. I did a double take, and it was gone. That morning, we took some knives and walked to where the screams came from the night before. We could see that the shots had come from what we now realized was the neighbor's property. He stumbled over about 10 o'clock the next day to say that he had shot at the creature, thinking it was going to go after his dogs. He was a fervent conspiracy theorist and thought it was Bigfoot. It had come after him, and he went inside his house and hid in his upstairs.

Later that day, we saw a fire coming from the ridge and saw that the structure had burned to a crisp. That night, we were sitting in the pickup truck bed and saw the RV turn on and drive off the ridge into the lake. Before it hit the water, the water rose up as if to grab the RV and it was swallowed up. We freaked out and never camped there again. You said this place was steps from the water. We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost.

Or you could book a stay with Hilton. Welcome to your oceanfront room. Just steps from the water. The Hilton sale is on now. Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton, for the stay. As I stand in our cramped city apartment, staring at the dust-laden camping gear sprawled out across the living room floor,

A sense of excitement courses through me. The jumbled mess of tents, sleeping bags, and hiking boots is, to anyone else, just a chaotic pile of junk. But to Randy and me, it's a collection of memories. Each piece tells a story of adventures past and beckons us toward those yet to come. You ready for this, Jess? Randy's voice pulls me from my reverie. I turn to see him standing by the window, sunlight filtering in and casting a warm glow over him. His blue eyes hold the same flicker of anticipation that, I'm sure, mirrors my own.

Absolutely, I say, grinning at him. The Appalachian Mountains, here we come. There's something inexplicably alluring about the wild, unadulterated wilderness, the rush of freedom, the escape from the city's monotonous cacophony, the enchanting stillness, it's intoxicating. We've always shared this love, Randy and I. Since the day we met, our shared passion for the outdoors has been a corner of of our relationship. We're just two souls seeking thrill and solace in nature's arms.

As we load our gear into the car, the reality of our adventure begins to sink in. This isn't just another weekend getaway. The Appalachians have a reputation for their rugged, pristine beauty, and a haunting allure that has often been cloaked in local folklore. But we've laughed off the tales, eager to create our own narrative. Last chance to back out, Randy jokes as he slams the trunk shut. I chuckle, playfully nudging him. And miss out on all the fun? No way. As we begin our journey, the city's concrete skyline quickly gives way to sprawling green landscapes. The road ahead is long, leading us into the heart of the Appalachian range. There's an odd feeling, a mix of excitement and a hint of anxiety that lingers, as if whispering of the unexpected

trials were bound to face. Through the rearview mirror I watch our city life fade into the distance. I feel an inexplicable pull in my gut, a silent call from the wild that makes my heart race. As the miles roll by and the cityscape dissolves into dense forests and towering mountains, a profound sense of calm washes over me. We're leaving behind the world we know, venturing into the unknown. The thrill of what lies ahead overshadows any lingering fear. Our chatter gradually fades into comfortable silence. The landscapes rolling past our windows tell tales of their own.

a vibrant blend of changing hues under the setting sun. The closer we get to our destination, the more pronounced the mountain range becomes, its majestic peaks kissing the sky. Even as the sun sets, casting long shadows over the winding road, the sense of tranquility remains unbroken. Our smiles are wide and our spirits are high. We are blissfully unaware of the creeping horrors that lurk within those captivating depths, ready to shatter our serenity into a thousand fragments.

fragments. The Appalachian Mountains are calling, and we are eager to answer. Little do we know that this journey, meant to be an escape from urban monotony, will instead become a test of courage and survival that will change us forever. We wake up to the crisp, clean air of the Appalachians on our first morning. It's a far cry from the city smog we're used to breathing in. Stretching out of our tent, I take in the serenity of our surroundings, the calm mountain lake, the lush forest teeming with the morning songs of unseen birds and the cool breeze rustling through the leaves the piece that washes over me is unlike anything i've ever experienced randy always the early riser has breakfast ready a simple meal of eggs and bacon cooked over our small campfire as we eat we talk about the hike we plan for the day the trails we want to explore our voices

carrying through the quiet forest days pass and blissful monotony hikes during the day campfires at night. We share stories, laugh, and bask in the wild beauty that surrounds us. But slowly, subtly, things start to change. One night, as we settle in our tent, a whisper of a breeze brushes past us, carrying what sounds like distant, indistinct chatter. We brush it off as the wind playing with the leaves, or maybe a distant stream. But then we hear it again, the murmuring, almost as if the wind itself is speaking. It's an odd sensation that sends a chill, down my spine. We start noticing other things too, like the sudden drops in temperature that make our campfire flicker and die, replaced by an unsettling cold that wraps itself around us,

or the shadows that seem to move at the corner of our eyes, disappearing when we turn to look directly at them. The worst, though, is the feeling of being watched. It's a constant, nagging sensation that raises the hairs on the back of our necks, turning our peaceful retreat into a place of uneasy vigilance. Probably just some wildlife, Randy says, trying to laugh off our fears, but I can see the worry etching lines into his usually calm face. Our laughter becomes less frequent, our conversations more hushed, as if we are intruding upon something sacred, something we aren't supposed to disturb. Despite our growing unease, we decide to stay, attributing our fears to our urban minds unaccustomed to the true wilderness. We rationalize the strange happenings, put on

brave faces and continue our exploration of the Appalachian range. But every rustle of leaves, every creaking branch, sends us into heightened alertness. As time passes, our once peaceful campsite starts feeling more like a prison, hemmed in by invisible watchers, and whispers that can't be traced to any source. The beauty of the Appalachians is still present, but now it's overshadowed by an undercurrent of fear that taints every sight, every sound. Our days of care exploration are replaced by nights of restless sleep, punctuated by disturbing dreams, and the eerie nocturnal sounds of the forest. We clutch each other tighter, seeking comfort in the shared terror that something is out there, lurking just beyond our sight. Our once-cherished adventure

is no longer the escape we had envisioned. The serene stillness of the Appalachian wilderness has transformed into an eerie silence, heavy with dread. We try to dismiss our fears, to laugh off the strangeness as mere tricks of our minds. But as we burrow deeper into our sleeping bags, the cold reality sinks in. We are not alone in this vast, untamed wilderness. And whatever shares our space, it's watching us. Feeling hemmed in by the unseen watchers of our campsite, we decide to take a longer hike, hoping to find some respite and movement in the distraction of exploring. We pack our gear and set off into the heart of the forest. The farther we trek, the more over one the presence of the mountains becomes, a massive living entity, both alluring and intimidating.

It's during this hike that we stumble upon the old cabin, tucked away in a dense copse of trees. It's a worn-down, lonely structure, its wooden planks weathered by time and elements. Moss and vines crawl up its walls, nature slowly reclaiming what was once its own. There's an eerie stillness around it, a heavy air of forgotten tales. curiosity peaked, we venture closer. Randy pushes open the creaking door, revealing an interior as abandoned as the outside suggested. Dusty furniture, a moth-eaten rug, a fireplace filled with long extinguished ashes. Yet, despite its derelict appearance, it feels like we're trespassing, stepping into a place where we don't belong.

In the corner, we find a box filled with old journals. The faded pages tell stories of a time long past. of the people who once lived here, of harsh winters and fruitful summers. But the more we read, the more we uncover unsettling tales of a sinister being that's part of the local folklore, a skinwalker, the journals call it. A creature capable of changing its form, taking on the guise of any creature it wishes, even humans. As I read the detailed accounts of its shape-shifting abilities, its talent for mimicry,

A cold shiver runs down my spine. The eerie accounts match too closely with our own experiences in the campsite. We share a look, a mutual understanding passing between us. The whispers in the wind, the moving shadows, the chilling sensation of being watched. All signs point to the presence of this creature from the local lore. But our logical minds struggle to accept this possibility, attempting to dismiss the tales as mere superstition, an exaggerated product of isolation and fear.

As we exit the cabin, the dusk setting in, we find ourselves enveloped in an oppressive silence, the forest holding its breath. We make our way back to our campsite, the forest looming around us, an unspoken fear gnawing at our insides. That night, huddled in our tent, we discussed the legend of the Skinwalker.

Randy tries to rationalize it, the scientist in him refusing to believe in such focus. lore, but his voice lacks conviction, and his darting eyes betray his apprehension. I, too, want to dismiss the tales, to believe we're just two city dwellers out of our depth. But the unease has burrowed deep within me, refusing to be shaken off. Every creek of a branch, every rustle of leaves, is a reminder of the terror we're potentially facing. Despite our skepticism, the cabin and its disturbing legend have sown the seeds of doubt within us. As darkness envelops our campsite, we find ourselves trapped in a

reality where the boundary between rational skepticism and the unnerving local folklore is blurring. We may have started this journey laughing off the tales of the Appalachians, but now we lay awake, listening to the whispers of the night, wondering if we've stepped into our very own folk tale. The following day is overshadowed by the knowledge of the Skinwalker legend. We stick closer to our campsite, our adventurous spirits dampened by a tangible fear, despite our efforts to laugh it off, to immerse ourselves in the natural beauty around us, the unease is palpable. The turning point comes as twilight bleeds into the night.

We're huddled around our dying campfire when we hear it, a grotesque guttural howl that cuts through the forest's ambient noise, chilling our blood. The sound is neither human nor animal, a distorted amalgamation that sets our nerves on edge. Then from the shadows at the edge of our campsite, it emerges. Caught in the dim glow of our campfire, it appears to be caught between forms, half human, half beast, a distorted living nightmare, its eyes glow with an eerie, unnatural light, its mouth twisted in a cruel grin, a perverse mockery of a human smile. Our terror is absolute, paralyzing. The abstract fear that had lurked on the edges of our thoughts since our arrival at the Appalachians is suddenly, horrifyingly, concrete. The creature before us is the living, embodied.

of the local folklore we had dismissed so easily, so arrogantly. A skin walker. In the silence that follows, the skin walker lets out a series of bone-chilling screams, mimicking the sounds of our terrified gasps with an accuracy that makes my stomach churn. Then, with one last piercing gaze, it retreats into the forest, its grotesque form melting away into the darkness. The shock leaves us frozen, the fire dying to embers in the deafening silence. I can see the terror reflected in Randy's eyes, a mirror of my own. The Skinwalker is real, and we are trapped in its territory.

We retreat into our tent, but the thin fabric feels laughably insufficient against the monstrous creature lurking in the forest. Every sound outside is amplified in our minds, every rustle a potential attack, every gust of wind a threat. Neither of us sleep. We lie awake, our bodies rigid with fear, jumping at every nocturnal sound. The forest, once a place of peace and tranquility, has become a terrifying, inhospitable wilderness, teeming with hidden horrors. We're prisoners of our fear, of the Skinwalker that has claimed the forest as its domain. As the night stretches on, we hold on to each other, our shared terror a cold, hard reality that we can't escape. Our peaceful retreat has turned into a horror story, the local legend we had dismissed so easily proving to be our terrifying reality.

Our world has changed, our perspectives shifted. Our wilderness adventure has morphed into a survival nightmare, a test of our courage against an unimaginable terror. The Skinwalker's existence has shattered our skepticism, plunging us into a world where nightmares come to life. We are no longer just campers. We are prey. As dawn breaks, Randy and I share a wordless understanding. We can't stay here any longer. We hastily break down our campsite, our movements quick and arose. aratic, fueled by adrenaline and fear. We barely speak. Our conversations reduced to whispered

instructions as we prepare for our trek back. Our journey through the woods is a desperate escape. We move quickly, alert to every noise, every shift in the shadows. The fear that has been our constant companion since our encounter with the Skinwalker seems to have permeated the forest, turning the beautiful wilderness into a twisted maze of terrors. We take turns leading the way, our eyes continuously scanning the dense underbrush for signs of the creature. Several times we think we catch sight of its distorted form, half hidden among the trees, but each time it disappears before we can be sure. The feeling of being hunted, of being watched, never leaves us.

The hours blur together as we hike, the journey seeming to stretch on forever. Our exhaustion is eclipsed by the fear that propels us forward. We share little food and water between us, our basic needs becoming secondary to our desperation to escape. As we trudge on, the sun begins to set, painting the sky and hues of orange and pink. It's beautiful, but the impending darkness sends a shiver of fear down our spines. Nightfall means greater danger, the shadows providing perfect cover for the skin walker. Just when it seems like we won't make it out before nightfall, we break through the tree line,

the sight of our car a beacon of hope in the gathering dusk. Relief washes over us as we stumble towards it, our exhaustion and terror momentarily forgotten. We scramble into the car, our shaky hands fumbling with the keys before the engine roars to life. As we drive away, the imposing silhouette of the Appalachian range in our rearview mirror feels more like a menacing specter than the beautiful landmark it was when we first arrived. Our escape from the forest doesn't erase our fear. Instead, it feels like we're outrunning it, leaving it behind it. the wilderness where it belongs. The terror of the Skinwalker still clings to us, a chilling

reminder of the nightmare we've survived. Our wilderness adventure, the one that was supposed to bring us closer to nature, has instead instilled in us a fear we can't shake off. The escape has left us feeling battered and broken, our nerves frayed, our courage tested. We may have physically escaped the grasp of the Skinwalker, but mentally it's still with us, haunting our thoughts, tainting our memories. As we leave the mountains behind, our silence isn't just a product of our exhaustion. It's a reflection of our shared trauma, our shared fear. We came to the Appalachian Mountains seeking peace and found horror instead. Our love for camping, for the wilderness, is now overshadowed by the terror of our encounter,

a terror that will follow us long after we've left the mountains behind. Back in the safety of our city apartment, the terror of the Appalachian seems like a distant nightmare. But as night falls, the memories come flooding back. The images of the Skinwalker burned into our minds. In the harsh light of day, it's easy to dismiss it all as an overactive imagination, a trick of the shadows. But at night, the whispers of the forest, the distorted figure of the creature, the terror that gripped us, it all comes rushing back, chillingly real. The terror isn't confined to our dreams. In the quiet of our home, I catch Randi, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes wide as if he expects the skin walker to emerge from the shadows.

I find myself doing the same, the quiet of the city night somehow echoing the oppressive silence of the forest. Our shared experiences have created a bond between us, a shared understanding of the terror we survived. We seek comfort in each other, yet there's an unspoken fear that lingers between us, a haunting memory of the horrors we faced. We attend therapy, sessions, trying to make sense of our experience, to label it as a shared hallucination, a product of isolation and wilderness-induced fear. But the terror persists, seeping into our everyday lives, turning every shadow into a potential threat, every sound into a reminder of that night in the forest. Our love for camping, for the wilderness, has been replaced by a fear

so deep, it's tangible. The prospect of venturing into the wilderness again fills us with dread, the memories of the Appalachians serving as a grim reminder of the horrors that lurk in the shadows. Despite the distance, despite the safety of our city life, the Appalachians haunt us. We're forever marked by our encounter, the skin walker a specter that lingers on the fringes of our reality. We can't escape it, can't erase the memories, can't forget the terror. One night, as I lay awake, trapped in the purgatory between sleep and wakefulness, I hear it. A sound outside our window, a distorted guttural howl that sends a jolt of fear through me. I turned to Randy who's wide awake, his eyes mirroring my own terror. The sound echoes through the silent city night, a haunting

reminder of our encounter. We hold each other close, our hearts pounding, the chilling reminder of the skinwalker filling the room. The nightmare isn't over. It's followed us home, turning our haven into another forest, another hunting ground. We're still prey, our home just another campsite. The sound fades away, but the fear remains, a constant reminder of the horror that's now part of our reality. As dawn breaks, we're left with a chilling realization. We escaped the forest and outran the Skinwalker, but we didn't leave the terror behind. It followed us, embedding itself in our lives, transforming our reality into a waking nightmare. The Skinwalker isn't just a creature in the forest. It's a terror

that's become a part of us, a haunting memory that's crossed the boundary into our reality. Our story didn't end with our escape. It was just the beginning. Looking for the best place to shop this Mother's Day? Go with the brand that makes it easy to send something thoughtful to everyone on your list.

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