Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary Stories For A Cold Dark Night When You Can't Sleep | Forest, Urban Exploration, Wendigo

Episode Date: January 22, 2023

These are 5 Scary Stories For A Cold Dark Night When You Can't Sleep | Forest, Urban Exploration, Wendigo   Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►https://www.reddit.com/user/aBlueSweater/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Theeaglestrikes/►https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/107b55a/the_forest_is_watching/►https://www.reddit.com/user/entityA152/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Boba_Tea0/ Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Business inquiries:  ►[e-mail]    💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

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Terms apply. Everyone knows the feeling of hunger, and yet some have never seen it. You yourself may have claimed to be starving, empty, famished, or hungry, but have you yourself ever encountered the merciless beast we call hunger? Have you ever considered that the thing you call starving is only the fingernail of the monster that plagues the minds and souls of the innocent and sane? Breathing down your neck and clawing at your skin with crimson-covered nails, desperate to get inside, only blocked from you gobbling down cheeseburgers, pizza, and donuts.

And yet a few have come close to hunger. Some of the worst instances of mass hunger known as famines have played dust for centuries. Ireland 1845, Russia 1921, China, 1959. And yet even in these stages of hunger when people's teeth were not and broken from eating leather and dirt and animals had a feast of the bones and human remains. Very few have ever seen hunger. Few have seen the Wendigo. All the Wendigo ever feels is hunger. That's because it is hunger. You may have heard of the Wendigo or seen drawings of it, but for the few who have seen it, for most it was the last thing they ever saw. I haven't seen it. No, thank God I haven't. Yet the old members in my family have stared at it in its hollow eyes. This is not my story. It's my father.

When I was around the age of 15, he told me to sit down next to him, pointing to the brown cloth chair. I was old enough to know why he never lets me set foot in the woods. Why we never go up north, especially never when it's winter. I recorded it all. He requested for that, wanted a record of what happened to him, to make sure no one else went through it like he did. This is what he told me. Father's story He takes out a cigarette and clicks a lighter and takes a lighter and

a small blaze and puts the small flame to his cigarette before starting. My uncle decided it was time for me to visit the Great Lakes forests. He told me the woods were some of the most beautiful in the whole country. It took a lot of convincing until your grandfather decided it was fine for me to visit the north. Of course, when he made the decision, it was winter by then. The winter down here is a light breeze compared to the freeze up in the north. Cold days and dark icy nights. It's a wonder how the Native Americans managed to survive months of thick snow and the creatures that came with it.

He pauses to take another puff of his cigarette before continuing. This didn't stop my uncle, who had prepared in case we had to go during the winter. For both me and him, as if we were going to the Arctic, thick puffy jackets, boots, and gloves as well as goggles in case we came upon a storm on a walk, as well as bearspray if we came across wild animals. He also packed something else, a desert eagle, the ones those cops have in the movies. He didn't actually expect to use it. It was just in case we came across a bear or links, and things got close and personal. He pauses and stares at his right foot.

He definitely didn't think we needed it for something different. It was around mid-November when we took the plane to the state of Michigan. He had purchased a standard hotel room in a small town. He refused to say its name, and we spent a few days. is simply getting used to the sceneries of where we were. My uncle was right. It was beautiful. Actually, I don't even think the word beautiful cuts it. I could see the edge of the forest by my window. The trees were tall, like long hairs protruding from the head of Mother Nature, and along those hairs light the fleas. Squirrels, chipmunks, birds, and the occasional wolf and fox would pass

by before despairing in the shadow of the trees. I'll tell you, even now I do miss seeing the trees and watching the wind blow the tall pines in harmony. He sighs and puts out his sig on his wooden chair, but I know I can never go back there. Almost every day we went on hikes with the snow crunching beneath our feet, stopping every so often to witness the wildlife. Once or twice we came across a bear. I was scared, of course, but my uncle had faced plenty in his time living there, so of course he knew what to do. Don't look them in the eyes he would whisper to me as he pulled out his bear spray, just in case. And eventually it would move along, searching for some berries to eat. It was around our second week there when my uncle decided to take me on my first night walk.

So, we put on our coats, snow boots, and brought along the bear spray in Desert Eagle. It was somehow even more gorgeous in the dark than it was in the day. The stars flowed above us like fireflies welcoming us to the forest, as the moon as big and bright as ever, hovered above us. We walked until we came upon a fork in the path. We usually would go left, as it's much longer so we could experience the forest more. But it was a lot colder than usual, so my uncle decided it was best to get back sooner rather than later. For some reason, the colder weather did hang in my mind for longer than it should have.

Although the weather could be unpredictable, the weather news where I was was more accurate than the ones down in the north. This thought slept my mind eventually, reasoning that every news channel got it wrong eventually. So we continued, but as we were. went, it just kept getting colder and colder. By this point, my uncle repeatedly kept looking up at the sky, with a bewildered look on his face. Looking up, I saw not a single cloud in the sky, nothing to indicate a snowstorm was coming, or anything that would cause the weather to get this cold. Soon my uncle put me close to him to make us warmer. It wasn't a long hike back, just a mile or so. Then it was clear something was wrong, more than the weather. As we kept walking, we went faster.

We heard something walking around us. My uncle jerked his head in that direction, instinctively pulling out his bear spray. Looking past him, I could clearly see several pairs of eyes in the shadow of the trees, moving fast, and toward us. My uncle had quickly raised the bear spray and put himself in front of me, screaming to get back. Looking over, I could now clearly see it was a pack of wolves, mouths open, panting and stamping their feet on the ground, creating loud cracks as the snow fell beneath them. Looking up, Uncle had his finger straight on the bear spray trigger, ready to get them.

Then the wolves ran right past us. They were maybe ten feet away from us at most, moving so fast I could feel a small gust of wind push against my face. My uncle put down the bear spray and looked around, complete utter confusion encompassing his whole face. That's when I saw more glowing eyes. He motions his hand in a circle around him. There had to be dozens of critters and birds running. They didn't even stop to look at us. They were just getting away.

All the animals I had feared, all the critters and birds, and all sorts of things in the woods I had stared at an amazement just days before. All of them were running. I had never seen anything like it in my life, nor did my uncle. He decided that it was time to go, most likely because whatever the animals were running from was something that we didn't want to come across. Now my uncle was someone that doesn't get scared easily. From the stories your grandfather told me he had faced death more times than he could count,

coming across an angry grizzly, a hungry pack of wolves, and even someone pointing a gun at him. Even then, I didn't see fear in his face, but looking into his eyes, I could see worry, and that was all I needed to know. Our normal walk had turned into a jog, with Uncle deciding that it would be faster to go off the trail through the woods. On the trail, there was a clear opening overhead for the light of the moon and stars to shine through, But off trail, the pine needles blocked most of the light that came through, with small beams piercing the thick hide every so often. My uncle just kept walking straight towards the town.

He probably just at half a mile left when he suddenly stopped, making me bump into his back. He didn't move, didn't even make a sound, almost like he had stopped breathing. Hey, I asked in a squally voice. I looked ahead of him, my heart pounding against my sternum as it felt like a bicycle pump. Up ahead was the outline of a person, though it was too far away to see any facial features or any features at all. It was about 30 seconds before my uncle started backing up, gesturing me to do the same. Hello, can we help you?

I heard it tremble. It was a small one, but it was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. My uncle, one of the coolest people I've ever known, was scared. Ever so slowly, my uncle put his hand behind his back, moving towards the bare spray. my eyes nearly popped out when his hand went past the bare spray and moved toward the gun. I heard a snapping sound. Up ahead I heard what sounded like a small twig break. In breaking eye contact with my uncle's hand, I looked forward back at the figure. He had taken a step forward, stepping on a small branch that poked out of the layer of snow. And with that step, there was a new

feeling in the air. It wasn't the cold. It wasn't fear. It was hunger. In almost lustful amount of it. Look, my uncle said, as his hand still gradually moved towards the desert eagle, we don't want any trouble. We're just trying to get back to town, so if you could please. He didn't get to finish his sentence. By this point my father stopped looking at me, instead looking out the window. It all happened too fast. First, there were the steps, fast, rampant. Each step came with a snarl. It was too fast for my uncle, too fast for me to process. What came next was the gunshot. It rang off the trees, bouncing back into my ears, making them ring like a church bell.

He got one shot off before it got to us. One shot off, before it made him scream. It slammed into him, flinging both me and his gun to the left, slamming me on the ground with a loud thud, which knocked the wind right out of me. Oh God, the screams. It didn't get him quickly. I didn't see it happen. but I heard the crunch of teeth going through and meeting bone.

It probably stopped there for a second to savor the taste against its rotten teeth before it continued. I'm glad I didn't see it happen, but I could damn well hear it. Splish and splash as crimson was everywhere. Crunch after crunch came, followed by popping sounds. I don't know how long I had my eyes closed, but the sounds were inhuman. I opened them. I was facing away from them and looking at a light that bounced off a silver

object. The Desert Eagle. I stood up, still shaken from the fall. The funny thing was I wasn't scared. My brain must have taken a hit, making it difficult for me to process what was happening behind me. I took a casual step forward, towards the gun, cracking the snow beneath my feet, and that's when the crunching stopped. That's when I remembered where I was. We both turned around at the same time. Its eyes met mine, if you could call the mice. They were dark and hollow, Then there was the rest of its body. I couldn't believe the thing that did that to my uncle was unbelievably skinny. Its ribs poked out of its chest, bones clearly seen through its slender arms and legs.

There were antlers that looked like that of a deer protruding from its head. He pauses and thinks for a moment. No, it wasn't a head. It was his skull. That's what it looked like, a skull with deer antlers coming from the top of its head. And even as it crouched, I could see it was tall, even towering over. me in that stance. We both stared at each other for what felt like ours before it turned back around and continued getting what was left of my uncle. It didn't even care I was there.

Why didn't it just attack me next, just get it over with? I didn't stop to ask these questions. I just turned, picked up the gun, and ran. For a second I considered firing, but I don't even think bullets affected this thing. All I knew was I had to get away, so I kept running. What probably took just ten minutes felt like an eternity, and then I saw the lights of the town. I'm going to make it, I thought, hope creeping up my spine and into my brain, and that's when I heard the distant footsteps. I turned around for a split second and felt that hope come crashing down all the way to my toes. There it was, probably just 500 feet away. I could see its eyes. They weren't glowing or anything. They were just so dark they stood out, even at night. Now it was

running fast. I couldn't believe my eyes. I would bet all the money I have, this thing could easily beat a gazelle. I turned my head back around and continued running, putting all my strength and energy into my legs to just get away from this thing. But the steps just kept getting closer. Now, I understand why it didn't get me before, because it knew that no matter how much I tried to run, it would never fail to catch me. And all of the sudden, it did. A jolt of pain went through my entire leg when it clamped down. This thing had unimaginable strength to pick me up and flung me several dozen feet. I landed head first, shock and pain spreading throughout my entire body, but soon the pain was going away as I felt myself slipping away out of consciousness. In the background,

I heard it crunching. This is it. This is how I'm going to go. I believed it. I truly did. But then I heard it. Get up. It was my uncle. You aren't going down that easy. are you. The words were all I needed. Every emotion in my body, hopelessness, fear, sadness, despair were all replaced by one. Rage. I turned around and pointed the weapon, which I managed to keep a hold of. It turned, seemingly shocked that I had a weapon in my hand, but soon after it charged. I wasn't aiming for anything and fired, almost seemingly in slow motion. I saw it fly and go straight into the void that was its eyes. Time stopped for just a second. Then it stumbled backward, grabbing its face. I then heard it scream. For the first time in the recording, I saw fear flicker in my father's eyes,

and then he continues. When I saw it open its mouth, I expected a monstrous bellow or a loud shriek. But what came out was worse. It wasn't the sound of a monster, but the sound of a people, hundreds of people, men and women screaming. But one scream remains in my mom. mind forever. The only reason I can't ever forget what happened that day. I heard a specific scream come out of its mouth. The scream of my uncle. The rage was gone and the terror returned. I got back up and continued running towards the light. I didn't want to get away from it. I just wanted to get away from the horrible screaming. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. No matter how fast I ran, the dream stayed the same. But then it changed, for it was no longer

screaming of pain, but screams of rage. I continued running. I had to get away. My leg was continuing to grow in pain as I continued running. My lungs went into overdrive as my body demanded a huge amount of oxygen that my lungs could not provide. I remember bursting through the woods welcomed by the bright street lamps and the hard pavement beneath my boots. When I had burst threw out of the woods, my body had used up all its strength, and I fell. The last memory I got before blacking out was the screech of tires, a man looking over me on the phone. And before I lost consciousness, I turned my head and turned toward the woods. I saw it, standing there, one eye closed, staring at me. I didn't need to see its face to know what it felt. It was angry, and it was

still hungry. I woke up the next day in the town's hospital. By that time, I had been out for three days. Your grandfather had flown over after he heard the news. I was greeted with his tears and his warm hug after he saw me awake. I told him and everyone else everything about the thing and uncle. They didn't believe me, probably thought the number of hits I took on my head made me imagine a bear as a monster. They did send out a search party. However, they didn't find it, but found what was left of uncle. The rumors spread. He sighs, that Wendigo is probably still out there. That Wendigo is probably still out there, continuing to get innocent people, continuing to hate me for being the one that got away, and there's more out there, more that will not stop until they are full,

and they are never full, and never will be. He pauses. The most disturbing thought I have is that of my uncle's voice in my head when that Wendigo had me on the ground. Sometimes I think, was it actually my uncle's voice telling me to get up, or was it that thing telling me to get up, wanting me to put up a little more fight. I guess I'll never know. All. Pay off your home, travel for life, drive a Ferrari. In celebration of the world premiere of the Monopoly Big Board Buckslot machine by Aristocrat Gaming, Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is giving one person a $1.6 million dream package. The biggest prize in Yamava's history. Club Serrano members can earn daily instant prizes and secure a spot in the finale May 29. Don't pass go and own it all. Only at Yamava, celebrating its

40th anniversary. You win? Details at Yamava.com must be 21-20. Please gamble responsibly. is a trademark of Hasbro. Hasbro is not a sponsor of this promotion. Excluding some tropical species, such as coconut and banana trees, no tree can survive long without branches. And yet, defying all explanation, I saw a pair of branchless oak trees in the summer of 2015. When I use the word branchless, I'm not referring to a stump or a tree that has shed its leaves during the winter. I'm talking about two 15-foot-tall-tree trunks, both sporting identical pointed peaks and surfaces of jagged bark. No branches or leaves, no severed branch stumps on the bark that would indicate the old oaks had ever been anything other than monolithic plants.

Bizarre, I chuckled. Not necessarily riveting dinner talk, I know. Believe me, I wouldn't be recounting the tale if it had ended there. I chose to follow the overgrown footpath between the two pillars of bark, rather than the well-maintained public footpath, which led far away from the ominously bare trunks. I've always been an antagonist, so I suppose I want to. I wanted to satiate my hungry ego by taking the less trodden path. On no tourist, I inwardly scoffed.

Hubris always comes before the fall, or, as my son would say, I had succumbed to main character energy. I wish I'd taken the popular path. I waded through leaves and moss, and the undergrowth crunched beneath my walking boots. I had no intended destination in mind. I was just looking for somewhere to set up my base camp. I knew how to retrace my steps. I saw no harm in taking a mystery trail.

From time to time, I simply like to separate myself from the world. I venture on solo camping trips to clear my head. My wife and children don't take much interest in nature, so it's not that I purposefully exclude them. Frankly, I thank God that they weren't with me on this particular trip. Whilst camping in the middle of a clearing, I was awoken by rustling sounds outside my tent. I tried to ignore them, squeezing my eyelids together

and angrily attempting to force myself back to sleep. Frustration quickly turned to fear. The noises that engulfed my tent were unlike any I'd ever heard. High-pitched squeals, similar to trainer souls squeaking against a hardwood floor, were emitted from every direction. Heart racing at a tremendous pace, I sat upright and stared at the fragile wall of material that was separating me from whatever unidentifiable things were out there. Very little moonlight reached the clearing.

Thankfully, so the shadow. that danced on the outer fabric of my tent were indistinguishable. That made it easier to tell myself the creatures were simply foxes. They were not foxes. I knew that. I used string to build a makeshift lock for the zipper on my tent. I didn't want anything opening the door to my vulnerable fortress. After that, I lay down and waited. The piercing yipping noises eventually quieted down, but I didn't immediately fall asleep.

I intended to stay awake all night, but I must have eventually put. passed out. I think terror can do that to a person. In the morning, I planned to leave the haunting woods and go home. You can imagine my horror when I unlocked my tent door and found that I was no longer in the forest clearing. My tent had been moved whilst I slept. More horrifyingly than that, I found myself stuck in a thick cluster of branchless trees. As far as the eye could see, I was surrounded by those eerily wrong oak trunks. I instantly packed my tent and belongings. I weave between the densely packed trees of the new branchless forest in which I found myself. No luck. I'd completely lost my bearings. I had no idea where I'd been taken.

The branchless forest was the same in every direction. All I could see was endless bark. And, when the sun began to fall below the tip of the treetops, I realized I'd let the wintry day slip away from me. Night was approaching quickly, but that wasn't what terrified me most. The horrid squeals had returned. As the sun dipped lower and lower, the squeals multiplied and loudened. Before long, the sound was accompanied by rustling bushes. Panic turned me to stone. My walking slowed, and I started to believe I would never leave the forest.

I was unbelievably happy when I found the stream. My saving grace. I couldn't find it on my map, but I didn't have time to think about the horrifying implications of that fact. Every stream has to lead somewhere, even a number. a dense landscape of alien trees. I had no idea which way to walk, so I followed the stream east, trying fervently to ignore the cacophony of squeals and rustling shrubbery. I pressed onwards. I was stumbling around in complete darkness at this point, guided only by the dim light of my cheap torch. After an hour of walking, I finally found something promising. A cave. I didn't plan on entering it,

but I welcomed any sort of landmark that could break the monotony of ceaseless tree trunk. My victorious moment was short-lived, however, as I was interrupted by small, pattering sounds from behind me. I quivered as I twisted around and moved my torchlight towards the source of the sound, finding myself gazing upon a terrifying gaggle of two dozen tiny humanoid creatures. Each one was about 30 centimeters tall, had two ant-like feelers, in lieu of eyes, and brandished a ghoulish set of black fangs. Each one also had four vaguely human arms, along with two vaguely human arms, along with two vaguely human, human legs. As they walked towards me, they dropped forwards and used all six limbs to scurry like insects. I backed away incredibly slowly, almost too petrified to move. My torch shook violently in my near numb hand. In a flood of sound and a flash of rapid movement, one of the fiendish things

charged from my leg and make quick work of snaking around it. I screamed as the creature began to constrict my limb, cutting off its circulation. The creature's friends released a chorus of seemingly jubilant squeals. I didn't wait for the others to join their brave leader. I ferociously punted the transiting creature with the rear end of my torch, and it hissed in pain, uncoiling from my leg. Body shaking in horror, I seized my small window of opportunity and started sprinting towards the cave mouth. The Sixland monstrosities pursued me, rapidly closing the gap between us. I expected them to devour me in the entrance to the black chasm I was approaching. They didn't. As I fell into the nothingness of the cave,

I turned around to look at the now stationary group of horrifying ant people. They were just standing at the entrance of the cave and watching. It was as if they were too afraid to step inside, and I really should have paid more attention to that. I hiss, like a sand timer being flipped upside down, erupted from the deepest point of the cavernous pit. I shuddered, but I realized I had two options.

I could either face certain death from the ant people at the door to the cave, or I could risk whatever lay in weight. There wasn't really a choice, but I chose the latter. My torch barely illuminated the few yards in front of me, so I was mostly wandering and pitch blackness. The hissing creature was suddenly entirely silent. The only sound in the cave was that of my echoing footsteps.

Even the ant people had ceased their squealing. What did they fear in the heart of that dreadful place? That was when I saw it. The cave itself was not particularly big. It was more of a room than a home, and I stumbled into the room of the ghastliest thing I've ever seen. The ant people paled in comparison. My torch-like could scarcely do justice to the enormous being before me. In the very far corner of the cave, about 100 feet from the entrance, was a 10-foot-tall insect.

Actually, no, I don't think it was an insect. Much like the ant people, it possessed some characteristics of certain insects and arachnolids, but this creature was a beast unto its own. The thing was essentially just six hairless legs similar to those of a human other than the length and the pointed ends instead of feet. At first glance, it seemed like a spider with two missing limbs, but I quickly ascertained that the creature had no discernible body. Its body was its legs. The thing had no head. Its six limbs met at a central point, but there was no indication of any torso that would contain organs or sensory tools.

Yet, the creature certainly lived, and it certainly sensed me. Its horrifying six legs started to tentatively crawl towards the source of the torch light. I wasn't going to wait around for another monster to seize my body and devour it. I scanned the walls of the cave, looking for a hiding spot. In the other back corner, there was a cluster of rocks. If I could just crawl in there, I might be out of reach, I thought. I sprinted at a speed I didn't know I could reach. The six-legged thing hurtled after me, its limbs making a horrific clicking sound as they galloped across the stones

beneath them. Diving for a gap behind the rocks, I crawled out of reach and put my torch light onto the creature which lay beyond my rocky fortress. The thing unleashed a menacing howl and proceeded to jab the sharp ends of its fleshy limbs at the holes between the rocks. Fortunately, the rocks shielded me, but the wait until sunrise was unbearably long. As daylight began to fill the cave, I squinted through the cracks in my rocky wall, and I was fairly certain the ant people had vanished. I had a plan, but I only had one shot at making it work. Searching in my rucksack, I found what I needed. A flare.

I just had to hope it would scare away the six-legged thing that was valiantly attempting to turn me into minced meat. Not pausing to make any more plans or rethink my decision, I lit up the flare. It worked. The creature wailed in terror, backing away into its original corner of the cave to escape the scorching blaze of the flare in my hand. I hurriedly scrambled free of the rock.

rocky fortress, keeping the flare in front of me, and I ran to the entrance of the creature's den. I was determined not to spend another day in that nightmarish forest. I followed the stream the other way. After hours and hours of walking, I finally found something that briefly stifled the fear in my heart. I found trees with branches and leaves. Recognizing my surroundings, I managed to retrace my steps and find the original overgrown path that I followed through the two branchless trees. the trees that started that mess. I've never talked about this incident to anyone. I couldn't find that forest of branchless trees, the stream, or the cave on any map.

I don't know how I stumbled upon it. I don't know how I escape from it. I only know one thing. If you ever see a branchless oak tree, walk away. What they did 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 is 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. I've always loved birds. Going on hikes, pointing them out to my family, they've always been such fun creatures. Every winter break, my family sends me to my uncle Jack's little cabbock. with my notebook so I can take a break from high school. They never let me keep my phone, and

anytime anything comes up, I notify him immediately. Sounds like a terrible idea, right? I've been doing this for a few years now, and luckily, nothing bad has happened. Well, until this one. For reference, my uncle is the strongest and smartest man you'll ever meet. Retired soldier, at least three medals won for his courage, you know the type. If he was dropped in a rainforest for a week, he'd survive by drinking python venom and spearing for piranhas. If you whipped out a phone in front of him, he would point out every little thing and ask about it. I love him to bits. We're both a little estranged with our families, so he became like a second father to me. He lives in a quaint little cabin in some Washington rainforest. There's a single dirt road that you exit onto when you

leave the highway, and after maybe an hour, you'll arrive at his little wooden home. My aunt passed away a few years ago, which I think is why my mom always sends me to his house. And so she did. As I played games on my phone in the backseat, my mom looked a little distressed as she drove through the dirt path. Apparently, my uncle had been acting a little odd, which she chalked up to old age. But she knew her brother well, and it was the first sign that things wouldn't go how I'd hoped. He was normal when we first arrived, and for a good few days things were just as they should have been. My uncle would enforce a curfew strictly at nine before pulling me out of my bed at six in the morning. I would watch birds on hikes and draw them in my notebook while my uncle told jokes about the Marines.

I'd heard them a thousand times before, of course, but just the sound of my uncle's voice was pleasant. It wasn't until the fourth day of my week-long trip that I noticed what my mom was talking about. He would mutter under his breath, stare at the sky at night when he thought I wasn't looking. And for my uncle, silence was rare. His hearty laughter and confident demeanor were noticeably missing throughout the day. By the time the sun was setting, my uncle changed the curfew to six. There would be no leaving the house after the sun had set. Even though he was usually strict, he had never missed out on cooking smores

while playing his banjo by the campfire. Not once. That night, as I read my book under my flashlight, I glanced out the window only to see a pair of bright eyes staring right back at me. I knew it was wildlife, but my uncle's behavior had made me a little edgy. The next day when I asked about it, he told me that it was a fox and that their eyes would shine an ominous red at night. It wasn't for a few days until I remembered that foxes didn't live in this area of Washington. The next day, my uncle looked visibly nervous.

He told me that he would be going hunting, and he wouldn't be back until evening. There were cheese crackers in the pantry if I got hungry, he would be back soon, don't go out too far. until he gets back, the usual. At this point, I was extremely nervous, alone to watch over his cabin. After he left, I looked around a little. This feeling, this horrible unease that I was somehow being watched creeped into my soul. This wasn't a prank. The only pranks my uncle had ever done were filling my shoes with dirt and letting a spider loose in my bed sheets. I knew I was alone, but the feeling wouldn't go away. After looking around for a bit, in the same spot where I had seen the eyes last night were tracks. Human tracks. Two bare footprints in the dirt. My uncle didn't

come back that night. I've only pulled three all-nighters without sleep, and that was one of them. I stayed awake my whole night with my curtains drawn, too afraid to see what might be watching on the other side. I hid underneath my covers, the wind howling outside. I was comforted by the fact that if something was outside, it would be suffering in the 20-degree windy weather. I spent the whole day reading, Too afraid to go out, my stomach slightly woozy from the diet of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with crackers. By night time, my uncle still hadn't come back. The next day, my mom would come to pick me up, but sadly that isn't all that happened.

I remember exactly how the night went. At maybe 10 at night, I heard a knock on the door. My uncle kept a key underneath the frayed welcome mat. He never knocked. His boisterous self wouldn't let him knock on the door of his own house. Silently, I made my way to my bathroom, locking the door behind me, making sure that there weren't any windows in it. I was clutching an aluminum bat that my uncle never used, for the vague hope that if someone,

or something, got into the house, I could defend myself. The knocking got more violent, something was slamming on the door. Then, as abruptly as it started, it stopped. Then I heard it again. This time, it was on the other side of the house. Blas shattering. A loud thud. My heart was pumping.

I turned off the light in the bathroom as footsteps creaked on the floorboards outside. It walked right by my door, a shadow blocking the light from filtering in the bottom of the doorframe. I knew better than to make noise. They hung around for a good few hours. My adrenaline wore out after a while, with just pure fear remaining. If only my uncle was there. Luckily, I had turned off the light in my room. There was nothing that signified I was in the house,

but I still held my breath until they scampered back out the window. At least, that was what it sounded like. I didn't take the risk of leaving. I slept in the bathtub that night. The next morning, I woke up to my mom yelling and knocking on the door. Opening the bathroom door, the floor was covered in red liquid. A trail of sticky crimson, still damp on the wooden floor. I nearly threw up, running to the door.

My mom stood in front of me and raged at how I hadn't responded. Where was Uncle Jack? Why did I sleep in so late? I just hugged her, sobbing. I didn't know what happened. Or why? She pretty quickly realized that things weren't normal. After taking a look inside the cabin, she called the local police.

I still remember the cold interrogation room. Where was I that night? What happened to my uncle? Whose blood was on the floor? I answered everything honestly. My eyes blurred with tears and my nose clumped with snot. It was horrible. I was dismissed as a suspect. I think they felt bad for me, crying my eyes out in front of them.

It's been a year. After multiple searches, none of the local authorities could find my uncle. He was well and truly gone. His house got shut down. I spent this winter break at home, remembering what happened. I don't think I'll ever forget my uncle Jack in his cabin in the woods. And I don't think I'll ever truly know what happened in that forest. Maybe it's better that way. I don't think I want to know what happened that night. My life is boring.

I'm a student at a boring university and a boring town. In my free time, I usually sit in my tiny boring student room with my boring computer, having to listen to my boring roommate and her boring boyfriend's loud conversations. For a long while, I have felt that my life is too routine. I do the same boring crap every single day. I felt a need for more excitement in my life. Since I was 15 I have always been interested in places that most people do not really know of. Places that have stood abandoned for many years.

Places that, if you enter them, you stand the risk of getting arrested. Reading about these places on Reddit always excited me. I wanted to go to them. I wanted the adrenaline and fear that came with them. Watching other people on YouTube exploring old hotels, warehouses, malls, or even bowling alleys made me jealous. I watched people getting chased by dogs or cars. cops, people finding creepy items or encountering homeless addicts, and that only made me want to visit an abandoned place more. Because my life was so boring, the adrenaline was very alluring to me,

and so I did some research. I had only been a student at my university for a couple of months. I was in a new town, with new places to explore. After doing some Googling, I found out that there, in fact, was an abandoned place where I live, not too far from me. Of course, I was intrigued. spice up my life and unlike other people my age I did not want to do that by partying or hooking up. I wanted to spice my life up by adding some danger to it. From what I read the place did not seem that special. It was not an entire hotel or some mall. It was only an old underground tunnel that used to be a passage for car traffic. It felt like the perfect place for a beginner to explore. It had not been in use for over 20 years and it seemed that not that many urban explorers had been

there before me. I have some friends, but none of them would ever be interested in putting themselves in danger just to seek some thrill. My friends are the kind of people who like to sit in a circle while drinking and playing games. That can be fun, of course, but it is not very exciting. So, I went alone. Stupid decision, I know. I am a young and short female who decided to go to an abandoned place after dark on my own. I was naive and thought that nothing could ever happen to me, but something did. And after my experience, you best believe that I will not explore alone, or at all, ever again. It was a weekend night when I decided to take my bike and go to the tunnel. With me, I brought a flashlight, an army knife, pepper spray, and my camera. At least I brought some protection, right. But that did

not help me from getting traumatized, maybe for life. It had already gotten dark out and before leaving I checked the time on my computer monitor. It was 2204, so not that late. This was during autumn though, so the natural light had run out for the day. I left my room and locked the door after me. My roommate is a nice girl, but I don't fully trust her yet, hence locking it. When I left, she had the door to her room open, as always, and therefore saw me leaving. I did not tell her where I was going, only that I was taking a walk. Once I got out of my apartment building, I unlocked my bike and started my journey towards the tunnel. I had found the cord in its online and was finding my way to them with the help of Google Maps on my phone. To get there, I had to bike through

a wooded area. The path was not lit up. The only reason that I could see anything was because of my bike light. It was scary, but I enjoyed the fear. At least I was feeling something. I thought it was great. I already felt more alive and I had not even reached my destination yet. Suddenly, my GPS said to turn left into the woods. It would have been impossible to take my bike because there was no path and the terrain did not seem friendly. Therefore, I left my bike on the path and locked it. I turned my bike light off and suddenly I was standing in complete darkness. The only sound was the wind blowing the leaves

and some ruffling of trees from a deer or something. I took a deep breath and turned on the flashlight that I had brought with me. It was a cheap flashlight, and the light it emitted was far from satisfactory. I could really only see a couple of meters in front of me. Nothing scary had really happened yet, but I still felt uneasy.

I started to regret coming there but thought that I might as well get to the tunnel. Quickly, I started to make my way through the forest. I felt scared and sort of observed. In reality, I knew that no one was out there. It was half past ten at night in the middle of the forest on a weekend. No one was crazy enough to take a stroll at this time, except for me, I guess.

Eventually, I reached the tunnel. If I wasn't scared before, I definitely was now. The inside of the tunnel was dark and seemed to go on forever. The outside was covered with demonic symbols and, of course, weird objects spray painted on the wall. Above the tunnel, someone had written stay out or be ended, in red paint. None of this made me want to leave, though. I just figured that some bored teenagers from the town had painted at all. To be fair, there was not a lot to do around here.

With that, I entered the tunnel. The ground and there was slightly damp, and I could hear dripping sounds around. me. Stupidly enough, I was wearing sneakers and the dirty liquid from the ground made them soaked right away. I still kept going. I would just clean the shoes later. The graffiti from outside the tunnel continued on the tunnel walls with more cryptic symbols and warnings. I kept going, knowing that this was something that was common in abandoned places. The tunnel was not that interesting, to be honest. Sure, it was thrilling being there at night, but there were not a lot of things to discover. A pit started to form in my stomach. I did not really know why. Nothing had

happened to make me scared, but something just did not feel right. I shine my light on one of the tunnel walls and immediately jumped back and, I am embarrassed to say, let out a high-pitched scream, which echoed through the tunnel. I thought I had seen a ghost or something, but after looking at the wall, I could see that it was just a demonic-looking face painted on there. I chuckled a little to myself. How could something so stupid have scared me like that? I must have really been on edge. My momentary relief was quickly gone when I shine my flashlight on the ground in front of the face. There, on the ground, I could see some dirty blankets and a pillow. At the time I couldn't understand why it was there, but it definitely freaked me out a bit.

Was someone living in this tunnel? I started to feel very uneasy again and wanted to leave. I took a photo of the face and the bed just a document that I had been there and started to walk towards the exit. That is when I heard footsteps coming into the tunnel. That was scary enough, but what made it worse was that they came from the direction I had come from, the direction which was my way out. I froze for a second, not knowing what to do. Eventually, before the person could get any closer, I snapped out of my haze and started running the other way further into the tunnel. This seemed like my best option at the time, and knowing what I know now I can confirm that it was.

When I started running, so did the other person. I could hear the footsteps speeding up behind me. While running, I started to take my army knife out of my pocket. I know that running with a knife in itself is dangerous, but at least I could protect myself if the person caught up to me. The tunnel was not as long as I thought and eventually I reached its other end. In my panicked state, I had not noticed that the tunnel. footsteps behind me had prevailed. But once I had left the tunnel, I noticed it. Still, I kept

running. At that moment I thought that I had to get back to my bike, so I started going through the forest, running beside the hill which the tunnel went through. During my run, at various moments, I could swear that I heard branches breaking around me. It might have been paranoia though, because it would not have been possible for the person to catch up to me at this point. When I found the path where my bike stood again, I felt a small sense of relief. Once I reached the bike, I quickly unlocked it and raced home. Not until I reached my apartment building did I start to calm down slightly. That is when I noticed a note in my bicycle basket. I put my bike away and ran into my dorm room with the note in hand. Once I had locked the door

behind me, I sat down. I was still in a state of shock at this point. Had someone really just chased me? Why did I put myself in such danger? Slowly I opened up the note. The contents of it was short, but terrifying. Hello, pretty girl, I have not met you yet, but I am excited to do so. The fact that this was left in my bicycle basket means that this person must have been somewhere in the forest, observing me while I left my bike. If not, how did they know that I was a girl? The note was not exactly threatening, but with context it was definitely yarring.

This person had been by themselves, in the forest at night, observing me and then following me. Thank God I noticed their footsteps in time, otherwise I might not have been writing this right now. I still don't know who chased me that night, and I will not be going back to find out. I assume that the person who chased me is the same person who lives in the tunnel. Just think about what kind of state you must be in to find shelter in such a place. Either this person was on drugs or in a very bad mental state, probably both. After this experience, I am definitely not going anywhere by myself at night. and to the person who might be reading this do not go to abandoned places alone.

No matter how thrilling or enticing it might seem, it is not worth the risks. I don't know how long it's been, I don't remember when we left. Only that we've been on this rafting trip too long. A little background, me and my friend Milo have been rafting and camping on a very rural stretch of river for days. We haven't seen another person in so long. A few days ago, I stepped out of my tent and saw Milo's, standing by the river bank. I started to walk over to him, but for some reason I felt I shouldn't. Something about him was, wrong. I stepped back and relieved myself on a tree. I watched him for a while,

but he never moved. I figured he just couldn't sleep and went back into my tent. The next day, he had huge purple bags under his red eyes. I attempted conversation a few times, but he murmured something unintelligible, and I left him alone. I started to load up the boats with our gear. but he just sat there, gently rocking back and forth. Hey, Milo, we're about to head out. The boats are set. He slowly turned his head to look at me, like a deranged asylum patient in a movie.

Leave me here. He must be joking, I thought. Now come on man, all your stuff is on green. Green was the name of his worn raft. It was a faded olive color. I don't need it, he said, eerily calm as he turned back towards the forest. Milo, you're being a weirdo,

let's go. I laughed nervously. Suddenly he whipped his head around and screeched at me in this voice I had never heard him use. I said to leave me here. I was legitimately scared at this point. This was nothing like him. Okay dude chill. I'll take off on mine. Meet me at Campside 3. He stared at me. Those horrible eyes pierced my soul. No response. See you later. I said as I pushed my raft into the brown swirling water. I hopped on and drifted down the river away from the island where I left him. I spent two nights at that place before I went back from Milo. I never should have done that. After a full day of paddling upstream I was mad and my arms hurt, but I was at the island.

Milo, I yelled, searching warily. I heard heavy ragged breathing in some bush like a dying animal. And Milo, is that you buddy? I asked softly, peeling away branches. A hand rushed out of the branches and grabbed me with a strong grip. The skin was pale and covered in cuts and dried scabs. The skin stretched over painfully. He wheezed at me.

Stay here. I tried to jump back. What the hell man? Let go. His grip weakens and the hand slid off of me. Don't resist it. Stay. I freaked out and ran towards the bank,

but the lazy stretch of river I had traveled on before was now flowing rapidly, dragging our boats with it. No, I screamed, collapsing to the ground. The black waves seemed jagged as they lapped at my feet, reflecting the distant starlight. I hadn't even noticed the sun go down. It seemed like it was evening just seconds ago. No, I'm screwed. I paced along the bank, reluctant to go into the forest again.

I finally settled on a spot by the tree I had previously set up a tent next to. I was just closing my eyes when I heard uneven footsteps and that same ragged breathing. It was him. Everything about him was, I don't know how to describe it. He staggered to the bank and out of the swirling water a creature rose. Its horrifying head broke the surface and slowly came towards Milo. It drew itself higher out of the water. Its glowing blank eyes were set deep into its head, like round white pearls that lost their shine centuries ago.

It looked like a huge eel almost, with moist skin so dark it seemed to suck light out from around it. Its slightly open mouth was filled with thin needle-like teeth, transparent, and an uneven rose along its long jaw. It had a glowing sort of lantern hanging from its chin as big as a human's head, and more glowing spots along the sides of its ridiculously gigantic neck. Milo walked towards it. I wanted to scream, but the breath wouldn't leave my frantically fluttering lungs. After Milo's head submerged the creature sank back down into the river, following him. I don't know what happened, but the whispered.

started a few hours ago. The whispers haven't stopped. It has been a day. I don't remember when they started. I think I'm going insane. The whispers. They sound so inviting. I am going into the river tonight.

Any fate is better than this. Dubai.