Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Scary Stories Told In The Rain That Will Give You Nightmares | Scary Horror Stories From Subscribers

Episode Date: August 7, 2023

These are 4 Scary Stories Told In The Rain That Will Give You Nightmares | Scary Horror Stories From Subscribers Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Tate V ►Anonymous ►Deathraptor ►Deathraptor Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:22:15 Story 2 00:52:05 Story 3 00:57:45 Story 4 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #subscribers #forest 💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

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The cold night air crept through the opening door of the bedroom, the massive glass panel sliding shut on her left. The retreating figure of the pool boy outlined in his bright white polo shirt faded into the encroaching darkness of the early evening. Her gaze fell on the towering 14-foot-high glass walls that served as her only barrier to the cool enveloping woodland. The untamed nature seemed to creep closer, its sharp edges softened by the villa's well-manicured backyard.

With a sigh of resignation, she buttoned up her crisp white Loropiana blouse, her eyes captivated by the mesmerizing dance of blue light shimmering across the serene surface of the lap pool. Her fingers absent-mindedly brushed the golden strands of her hair from her eyes, parting her silky locks on either side of her face. Cassandra Feng held the wine glass. It's cold. Embrace was long gone, replaced with room temperature and difference. It had been filled earlier in the evening, prior to her clandestine rendezvous with Julian, the pool boy. The bubbly Prosecco pounded her palate, carrying along with it a bitter twinge of guilt.

Her affairs with Julian had grown from sporadic indiscretions into a weekly ritual, a transgression not so much against her husband of 22 years, but against herself. Swirling the pale liquid in her glass, she sought refuge in a fond memory, a radiant afternoon on the banks of Lake Como, where she and Philip were pronounced wife and husband. The nostalgic moment quickly soured, chased away by the biting wine, reminding her of the stagnant bitterness that had seeped into her marital life. It hadn't always been this way. When they were busy raising their son, Philip had struck a perfect balance,

giving time to her, their child, and his budding career as an investment banker. Lucas was now a 19-year-old, making his mark playing lacrosse at the University of Southern California. The corners of her lips curled into a sad smile, pride for the man Lucas had become mingling with the loneliness that held her in its icy grip. Lucas, born on a cool September night in 2004 at Stanford Hospital, was a lifeline in her isolated existence. He reached out to her every Sunday, their conversations and endearing exchange of updates, laughter, and tender advice. His last interaction with Philip, however, had been a curturation over an overdrawn credit card, a stark contrast to the loving father-son

bond they once shared. A tender memory surfaced, painting a vivid image. of Lucas' first lacrosse game, back when Philip was still making an effort to genuinely engage with their son. Watching Lucas dart across the field, his athletic frame casting long, fleet-footed shadows as the opposing team hot on his heels. She felt a surge of pride. His well-aimed hurl of the ball to his teammate was like a lighthouse beam cutting through the gloom of her thoughts, warming her. She reminisced about the house party Lucas had thrown during the start of his senior year's winter break, while she was away with her friends in the snowy seclusion of Aspen. A part of her knew she should have been angered by his actions,

yet at his age she saw the reflection of her own youthful rebelliousness. Phillips' increasingly extended absences gnawed at her like an ever-hungry beast in the depths of her solitude. First, it was long hours at work, then a pattern of coming home every other night, and finally, a pitiful appearance on Thursdays. His rushed trips back from Seattle on those days were mere smoke and mirrors, a feeble attempt to prop up the crumbling edifice of their marriage. His lack of presence at her mother's funeral, replaced by a disinterested Skype call, only amplified the echoing hollowness within her.

The announcement of his election as vice-chairman of the major investment bank he had given his life to, only seemed to hammer another nail in the coffin of their fading relationship. The doorbell's melancholic chime roused Cassandra from her. her deep musings. Draping a soft cashmere sweater from the sprawling bed over her shoulders, she ran her fingers through her golden hair, her bare feet patting gently across the glossy portafino marble floor leading to the foyer. A quick glimpse through the tall window that guarded the grand entrance revealed the retreating figure of an Amazon delivery driver, disappearing into the running truck. A quick, thank you, echoed down the driveway, chasing his vanishing form.

She unlocked the door and collected the package, its label bearing Phillips' name. An undertow of resentment guided her hand, placing it a bit more forcefully than necessary onto the colossal black marble kitchen island. She reached up to the warm hickory wood cupboard, hidden behind meticulously organized jars of spices. Behind the innocuous paprika, a clandestine sanctuary housed her secret escape. The small bag, a token of a private chartered flight from San Francisco to San Martin, was procured legally. The insidious street dealers, like shadowy figures and puffy coats, skulking in the parking lots of malls and 7-Elevens, didn't deserve her trust. She wouldn't fall victim to fentanyl poisoning, a chilling tale she heard too often. The cocaine,

her new companion, served as a temporary refuge, a short-lived bliss drowning out the agonizing reality of Phillips' infidelity. Cassandra meticulously tapped a thin trail of the granular white substance onto the polished surface of her West Elm concrete table. With the back of her credit card, she expertly brushed it into a fine line. Her gaze strayed to the sweeping wall of floor-to-ceiling windows before snapping back to the white strip that lay before her. Hunching over, she inhaled sharply, feeling the gritty powder rush up her nostrils and scrape its way down her nasal passage. A jolt of discomfort seized her, a sensation akin to inhaling flour, or perhaps fine sand. The abrasive substance scraped against her sensitive nasal lining, leaving a harsh reminder of its passage.

She quickly wiped away the vestiges clinging to the edge of her nostril. A wave of exhilaration swept over her, followed swiftly by a rising tide of paranoia. Her heart pounded in her chest like a wild drum, each beat echoing the growing fear that gnawed at her sanity. She felt observed, pursued, a breath at the nape of her neck prickling her senses. Wide-eyed and on edge, Tears pooled, brimming over her lower lids as she battled to clear the unbearable dryness that assailed her eyes. With a swift, practiced motion, she swept the leftover powder onto the woven rug beneath the table. Barbara will clean tomorrow, she muttered to herself, startled by the intrusion of her voice upon the palpable silence. Her hand reached out to draw the massive white curtains shut, her heart pounding as if it were a wild rabbit caught in the glare of a predator.

The distant tree lines seemed to harbor watchful eyes. feeding her paranoia. Suddenly spinning around, Cassandra's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes darting around the room for an unseen phantom, but all she found was her own reflection echoing back at her from the glossy surfaces of the expansive living space. A nervous giggle escaped her lips, her drug-induced paranoia appearing ludicrous now. She redirected her attention to the corner of the room, where a sleek marble sculpture stood in stark contrast to the unexpected company she now found herself in. The modern piece was the result of a Swiss designer's skill, someone she'd briefly known in a life that seemed a world away now, and there, incongruously at ease

in her plush designer armchair, was a man she had never seen before. The atmosphere was electrified with suspense, every tick of the clock amplifying her rising panic. Before she fully registered her own actions, a scream ripped through the silence, escaping from Cassandra. The man, without missing a beat, vaulted from his chair. His speed was unnerving, a blurred figure traversing the length of the living room before diving through the colossal window. A symphony of shattering safety glass rang out, a cascade of shards glistening as they rained down onto the polished floor. Cassandra's eyes remained fixated on the retreating figure, a silhouette of inky darkness cast stark against her perfectly manicured terrace. The intruder moved with such surreal agility

that the details of his naked form blurred and twisted, becoming an enigmatic cipher before disappearing entirely. As he crossed the sprawling emerald lawn, he melted seamlessly into the hedgerow's natural barrier separating her domain from the wild, untamed underbrush. And then, just like that, he vanished, swallowed whole by the Stygian shadows of the dense forest beyond. Better run because I'm calling the cops, she screeched into the night. her words jagged shards of fear shot through the shattered window frame. Her voice clashed against the orchestra of rustling foliage and the thunderous pounding of her heart that threatened to explode from her chest. The surreal, grotesque reality of the situation felt like a maelstrom,

threatening to tear her sanity asunder. How had an intruder penetrated her fortress without her knowledge? Who was he? Or worse? What was it? Such harrowing questions gnawed at her mind, casting monstrous shadows of paranoia that lurched and writhed in the dark recesses of her psyche. I must be dreaming, she attempted to reassure herself with a hollow chuckle. Her laugh a haunting rasp, brittle as autumn leaves crushed underfoot. No, Cassandra, she croaked to her reflection, a specter of fear mirrored in the television screen.

You're just dreaming. Her voice teetered on the precipice of hysteria, a whisper caught in the eye of the storm. Whipping her head around, she scrutinized the expansive living world. room. Each shadow grew darker, pooling into ominous inkblots under the pallid glare of a crappy reality show, endlessly replaying on the flat-screen TV. The spectral light from the television birthed monstrous shadows, their sinewy tendrils elongating across the room, reaching out like skeletal fingers. They threatened to seize her ankle, to yank her down into an unfathomable abyss of insanity, a pit from which there was no escape. She drew a deep breath, eyelids sinking

shut as her psychologist had taught her, focusing on a calming, grounding memory. Yes, Lucas, she thought, his memory a gentle beacon in the churning sea of her thoughts. But her solitary lifeline was severed abruptly as the low hum of the garage doors permeated her makeshift sanctuary, causing her eyes to flick open. Unblinking, she stared down the long corridor leading to the garage and pantry spaces, the hum echoing like a warning call in the pit of her stomach. Her footsteps clacked against the marble. The wood-paneled walls seemed to grow eyes.

Their forested eyes tracking her in every reflection, reaching out of the graining of the wood towards her, trying to break free. The dull accent lighting was classy, but it only succeeded in blinding her, drawing her eyes back and forth so much. Something moved to her left, then above her. The marble patterns writhed underfoot,

holding back an unseen serpent as if it were a frozen lake. She stared wide-eyed, her eyes burning from the lack of blinking. The being reached out towards her, the veins in the marble forming a face. Its eyes were pure white in the marble, staring through her head as it smiled an empty smile. "'Philip!' she howled, her voice echoing off the sterile walls as she yanked open the robust door leading into the garage. But what greeted her was not the comforting form of her husband, nor the routine sight of their cars parked neatly in line. Instead it was an all-consuming void, an abyss that devoured every shred of hope and left in its place a gnawing dread. The cavernous four-car garage was transformed into an underworld of shadows.

Any semblance of familiarity was eradicated, replaced by a realm of darkness that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own. Suddenly, the motion sensor detected her presence, and the two rows of antiquated fluorescent rods flickered into existence. Their light a dim, spectral blue, that was more haunting than reassuring. The illumination, stark and harsh, painted a grim picture of her surroundings. The hulking form of her SUV and the two sedans sat like dormant monsters, their sleek bodies reflecting the eerie light in an other-worldly sheen. The vehicles cast chilling shadows that stretched out across the concrete floor, obscuring the details in a thick blanket of blackness. Her attention snagged on a silhouette nestled in the far corner of the garage, partially hidden by the mammoth

rack adjacent to the bay doors. The form was strangely humanoid, a grotesquely elongated shadow perched in the corner as if it were a grim sentinel. A single, smoky tendril of darkness unfurled from the figure, undulating across the surface of the garage door with an almost sentient deliberation. This dark specter loomed like a demonic starfish, becoming less a part of the garage and more a haunting testament to Cassandra's escalating paranoia. It seemed to whistening. It seemed to whisper without sound, its very existence and ominous melody that gripped Cassandra's sanity with icy fingers. The twin bulbs blinked out of existence suddenly, their absence marking the birth of an all-consuming darkness. It surged forward, a palpable wave of terror that caught her in its

icy grip. Her feet drummed against the marble in a futile attempt to escape its clutches, only to be thrust back into the sparsely lit, oppressive confines of the hallway. No, she stammered. the beast in the marble swimming towards her, the veining in the rock distorting and bending as it passed. No! she screamed, her voice piercing the oppressive silence as she pushed herself off the wall. The knots in the wooden panels jerked ominously towards her, their animated forms reaching out to ensnare her, pulling her into their maddening chaos. Her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst as bitter tears streamed down her cheeks. Her mascara bled,

streaking her deathly pale face and staining the collar of her linen blouse. Suddenly, she felt an invisible force impeding her retreat, tugging her towards the gaping maw of the open garage door. Stop it! she shrieked, her voice cracking under the sheer terror squeezing her vocal cords. Then, as abruptly as it had seized her, the unseen force relinquished its grip, hurling her across the polished floor. In an instant, she was back on her feet, lunging into a sharp left turn. at the corridor and breaking into a desperate sprint. She raced through the expanse of the eerily

quiet living room and darted past the ominous silence of the kitchen. The familiar surroundings morphed into a nightmarish labyrinth, her escalating fear lending them an aura of surreal dread. The hallway seemed to elongate before her, an insidious illusion making it stretch an additional two feet for every foot she covered. The cacophony of thumps and scratches filled the air, feeding her fear. Something, or someone, hammered at a door next to her, the solid wood appearing to churn like dough in a mixer, its surface undulating as though hands and limbs were pressing from within, desperate to break free. The sight cast wicked demonic shadows that danced and twisted across the hallway, the manifestations of her spiraling paranoia. She rounded a corner and threw herself against

the door to the powder-room bathroom. It instantly gave in, opening and crassions. against the vertical wood walls. The door slammed, and she forced herself into the corner of the small room, curling into a fetal position, wrapping her arms around her knees as she rocked back and forth. Her heart thumped, slowly turning her head to look at the face writhing in the wood grain next to her. Philip! Her scream echoed in the confined space as she hurled herself towards the granite countertop, snatching a pair of hair-trimming scissors. The cold metal bit into her palm as she watched the horrifying apparition take shape in the wall, a grotesque parade of faces rippling across the surface before lunging towards her. The door slammed inwards, holding as something tried to get in,

tears flooded her eyes as she thrashed the scissors into the wood over and over. Splinters flew from the gaping wound in the panels as she stabbed the apparition in the grain. The face was pulled back into the surface. Leave me alone, she bellowed, her eyes clenching shut as she continued her mad butchery of the wood. Get out of my head, she muttered to herself, the low murmur suddenly erupting into a high-pitched shriek. With a burst of manic energy, she dragged the scissors across the entire length of the wall, shearing the surface off.

Splinters flew about, savagely scratching her hands and wrists. Faces trapped within the wood wailed in silent agony, their mouths contorting grotesquely. Her manic frenzy halted as she kicked her feet against the toilet, pushing herself against the door, surveying her work. Cassandra's nervous giggles punctured the oppressive silence. Yes, yes, yes, she babbled, her voice edging towards hysteria. Stay away! Her shriek echoed against the claustrophobic walls, the terror-strewn syllables bouncing back and forth in the small space. She watched an abject horror as the gashes she had made on the wooden door, filled with a viscous black substance, the dark tendrils inching menacingly towards her. Desperately, she tried to

to handle the door, staring into the wooden eyes of her husband, as she viciously pounded against the surface, sobbing and convulsing as it held firm. Her futile attempts to escape left red streaks on the paneling, the residue of her once immaculately manicured hands. The encroaching darkness closed in around her, the dim light from the bulbs flickering erratically, as if they were engaged in some twisted ritualistic chant. The ominous strobes of light revealed the final shreds of her sanity unraveling, their departure marked by her ear-piercing scream. An unseen force seized her throat, its ghostly fingers tracing her features and strangling the breath out of her. Cassandra crumpled to the floor, the teal porcelain tiles cold and unyielding against her trembling form.

She was a pathetic heap of terror, her mouth agape in a silent scream as the sinister shadows invaded her body, slithering down her throat and clawing at her heart. An icy chill filled her chest, freezing her from within, as her desperate lungs begged for air. Panic took hold, her frantic eyes scanning the cold teal porcelain tiles beneath her, as if hoping they would reveal and escape. The scissors clattered out of her weakening grip, their sharp echo blending with the thrumming silence.

The last vestiges of life slipped from her lips, choked back by the relentless darkness. As death's cold fingers tightened their grip around her throat, her world dissolved into an eternal suffocating blackness. Barbara stood on the threshold of the powder room, her hands at her sides, regarding her friend and employer of over a decade. Even in death, Cassandra retained an eerie elegance, her blouse stained with the crimson of her own blood,

draped around her contorted and static form. She lay in a loose fetal position on the chilling tile floor, a thin trail of white powder clinging to her upper lip. Her eyes were closed, yet Barbara felt their vacant stare bore into her. Ma'am, please step aside, an officer intruded, pushing a stretcher and brandishing an oxygen mask, his bright orange vest contrasting starkly with the somber scene. Of course, Barbara responded, weakly stepping aside as the stretcher brushed past her. She watched as Cassandra's lifeless body was loaded onto the gurney, strapped down, and fitted with

oxygen mask. The strobing red and blue lights of the ambulance washed over the scene as Cassandra was wheeled away. Barbara knew they couldn't save her. The potent cocktail of endorphins and ground-up fentanyl would ensure that. She observed the traces of Cassandra's final struggle during her overdose. Deep gashes marred the wooden paneling of the walls and door, red fingerprints smeared the door and mirror. Barbara's gaze fell upon a pair of scissors, which she promptly nudged under the bathroom vanity with her foot. The shattered window in the living room perplexed Barbara. The tempered glass was too thick for her feeble arms to break, and the alarm had not been triggered. Her confusion lingered. The room hummed as the Roomba vacuumed up traces of cocaine

from under the coffee table and the carpet. She snatched the bag of powder from the spice drawer, adding it to the contents of the vacuum cleaner. A grim smile pulled at the corners of Barbara's mouth for the first time in months. To not, night, she would see Philip without his wife for the first time. Emptying the Roomba vacuum's contents into the pool, she watched the dull particulates meld seamlessly with the chlorinated water. Her gaze swept across the well-manacured lawn bordered by hydrangeas, awash in the auburn glow of the rising sun. The air was crisp, yet a vague sense of being watched lingered on the fringes of her awareness, unnerving her. She knew Cassandra's security cameras were mere props designed to deter potential

intruders, yet she felt as though she was being scrutinized, akin to the judgmental stare of teenagers at a shopping mall, or the disapproving glare of an old Italian woman. Nonetheless, she shrugged off the feeling and sauntered back into the house to await her lover. 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. M. I.A. streaming now. Only on Peacock. 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 ocean front room. Just steps from the room. 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. A loud honk sounded as the car in front of me came to a sudden stop. Something had dashed

across the road, something large. I slammed my foot down on the brakes and prayed the icy road wouldn't allow yet another fender bender. It was hard to make out any shone. shapes through the thick veil of the blizzard's harrowing symphony. But I could tell that whatever had crossed the highway had done so with speed and precision. Maybe a moose, I thought to myself, paying no further mind to the matter. I reclined into my seat and turned up the volume on the radio. Frank Sinatra's I've got you under my skin, filled the cozy insides of my SUV, and I felt my heart rate steadily stabilize. It had been several hours since I left my hometown, and now I was surrounded by an endless expanse of white as far as the eye could see. There should have been a

forest on either side of the highway, but with the severely deteriorating weather conditions, it was impossible to make out anything farther than six feet away. As I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel in perfect synchronization with the song, I grew more and more impatient. We had stood still for at least five minutes now. Surely there couldn't be this much traffic all the way out here. The song was nearly over, and we still hadn't moved. behind me I could hear a chorus of aggressive honking. There were at least six cars behind me, and as far as I could tell, probably six in front as well. Their headlights were the only indicator of their existence, as the snow had turned everything

else invisible. Then a grisly thought spread like wildfire throughout the crevices of my mind. Had there been an accident? I sat up in my seat and made an attempt to somehow peek above the top of the car ahead of me. It was futile. What is going on? I murmured under my breath as a loud sigh escaped my body. The howling winds outside violently slammed into the exterior of the car, eliminating any notions that I may have had about stepping out and investigating.

For now, it was best I just waited it out. It would surely pass in a minute or so. I picked up my phone and started messing around with a few apps. I do not condone texting and driving, but considering we hadn't been moving for a while, I'd wager a short social media session couldn't hurt anyone. And besides, it didn't look like I was going anywhere anytime soon either. I even glanced over to the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels that laid unassuming on the floorboard of the seat beside me, but I decided against it for now.

Prior to this traffic jam, I had been visiting my extended family for the holidays back in my hometown. Due to reasons we don't need to delve into, I was forced to leave earlier than I'd initially expected, which was fine by me as I couldn't stand another second of chatty family drama and that awful holiday cheer. Forgive me if I'm sparse with the details, but for privacy's sake, I won't disclose the name of the town I departed from, nor where I am currently headed. All you need to know is that the road I was traveling on was located pretty far up in the northwestern region of the United States, and it was absolutely freezing. Some time passed, and the vehicles on the road hadn't moved an inch. It was as though they were, were rooted to the icy foundations below. Duntingly, I observed as the car in front of me was in the process of getting devoured by

the rapidly growing snowfall. Its tires were nearly completely engulfed, and I figured that it wouldn't be long until getting home in time to watch today's football game would be the least of my concerns. Then, growing in the distance, were sirens. I looked up from my phone and directed my gaze toward the side-view mirror and saw a faint, blinking blue light penetrate through the thicket of snow. The ambulance zoomed past me at breakneck speeds, and shortly after, a police car followed. This only reaffirmed my belief that something terribly wrong had occurred. I scrolled through my phone and continued as usual,

though my digital endeavors would prove to be quite fruitless. The longer I used my phone, the worse the connection seemed to get. TikTok and YouTube videos began buffering, and other apps that required internet connectivity wouldn't even load. I'm by no means a physicist, tech guru, meteorologist, or whatever the appropriate title for this would be, but I surmise that the ongoing raging storm could be linked to the shortcomings of my phone signal. Incidentally, I was also in the middle of nowhere, 40 minutes away from the nearest settlement, and three hours away from the closest city. The remoteness of my location would surely also have an impact on my...

A light tapping on the window caught me off guard, and I jolted in my seat. seat. Crap, I thought, as the sight of a bulky police officer greeted me on the other side of the glass. By the looks of it, he had been out in the storm for way too long. His cheeks were glowing pink, and he had snowflakes stuck in his burly mustache. I quickly stowed my phone in my pocket and rolled down the window, preparing to explain why I was on my phone in traffic.

But the officer didn't care about any of that. Good evening, sir, the officer started. There has been an incident further up the road. right now we're trying to, could you turn that down? He gestured toward the radio. Uh, sorry officer, of course, I replied, dialing the scroll wheel of the volume button all the way down. As I was saying, we're trying to evacuate this, uh, whole area.

Once I've gotten to the final car at the end behind you there, and I've gotten him to start backing up, I want you to follow him immediately. You want me to drive in, reverse? I questioned. A quizzical grimace stretched across my. my face. Roads too narrow. Right now I don't see any other option. Unless you want to try turning around and risk ending up in one of these ditches here, the officer said with a slight smirk. But before I had the chance to say anything else, a thundering bang sounded a couple of yards in

front of us. The winds carried the sound with ear-splitting accuracy. The officer reacted immediately, hovering his hand above the pistol in his holster. He took a few steps back and tried signaling in on his shoulder-mounted radio. Another bang echoed. through the harsh wind, followed by another, then another. The sounds were unmistakable. They were gunshots. He drew his pistol and rushed toward the source of the sounds. I watched as he slowly faded from view. A void of white had swallowed him whole. I stared in shock for a couple of minutes, expecting the officer to return any moment, but he never came. A small mass of snow had started accumulating inside my car, so I quickly rolled up the window. I could hear another set.

of muffled gunshots joining the already dominant ones. It sounded like they were completely emptying their magazines into whoever or whatever. Then, in perfect unity, the sound stopped. The silence weighed heavy as I sat in anticipation. My mind was flustered with thoughts and ideas, but the prevalent feeling that occupied my body was a creeping sensation of dread. Just what the hell was going on? I anxiously tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. In a moment of weakness, I once again looked over to the bottle on the floor. I hadn't gone this long without a drink in years. One sip wouldn't hurt, right? Just to calm my nerves. If I was discreet enough, the officers would have no way of knowing. Just as I leaned over to the passenger side to pick the bottle up, my vehicle violently trembled.

Something powerful had slammed into my car. I cursed loudly and rose back up, abandoning the bottle. I frantically searched around, looking for any signs of the perpetrator. I skisks. I skimely. I scanned my rear view, the side window, and even the passenger side's window, nothing but a flurry of white specks. Then I noticed something in the blizzard in front of me. A black silhouette grew larger and larger, and soon I could make out what it was. A man, no, two men. And they were running, running towards my car, but these guys weren't police officers, nor any

of the paramedics that had arrived earlier. They must have been the denizens of the cars in front. then, two more people appeared behind them, either giving chase to or following the two men in front. As they inched closer, I could properly see the expressions carved into their faces. They were terrified. They looked as though they had seen a ghost. The first two men ran past my car. They didn't even look at me. Shortly after, the two people behind them followed, a woman and a boy. They hurried across the ice at great speeds while at the same time exercising caution so as to not slip fall. Before I had the chance to react, they were gone, having once again been consumed by the

endless white void. This was definitely cause for concern. Who in their right mind would abandon the comforts of their vehicles all the way out here? In this weather? The driver in front of me cautiously opened one of the doors of the car. A middle-aged white man with a beer gut stepped out into the cold. He slung his puffer jacket around his shoulders and stared off into the distance ahead. I watched him curiously, wondering if he too would start running, and then wondering whether I should join him if he indeed decided to. Right now, it seemed illogical, but then again, these guys clearly knew something I didn't. Maybe there was a gas leak ahead? Maybe some radioactive material had been improperly disposed of? My mind raced, looking for any logical explanations for

my current predicament, but I found none. The man took a few steps forward. intently inspecting the blizzard ahead. It seemed as though something had caught his attention. He took another few steps forward, positioning himself in front of his car, partially obscuring my view of him, his left side still visible. But there was something else. In the deep recesses of the snowstorm, something was moving. I strained my eyes, leaning forward in my seat and staring through my snow-covered windshield. Approaching from the left side of the road onto the oncoming lane, a large silhouette bobbed up and down as it slowly advanced toward the man. Though it was far away, it looked to be

near twice his height, but he hadn't noticed it. The man was far too busy examining whatever had caught his attention directly in front of him. An overwhelming sense of dread filled my veins. The way the silhouette moved, I couldn't quite explain why, but it felt predatory, like a lion stalking its prey through the thick underbrush of the African savannah, right before springing into action and securing itself a fresh meal. Was it a moose? It didn't look to be. The proportions were way off,

and it almost looked to be bipedal. But I couldn't think of any other large animals out here that the silhouette could have belonged to. I doubted this area had ever seen any polar bears. And even so, they couldn't possibly reach this size, could they? It was like my primal instinct screamed at me to do something. I felt my fight or flight start to kick in, but I managed to keep it under wraps.

I was safe inside my warm SUV. But the man, however, I had to warn him somehow. If I honked my horn, whatever was stalking him might have leaped into action right away. It was too risky. Before I could think of anything, the man screamed in terror. Muffled through my car's thick exterior, his cries echoed. I focused ahead of me, trying to get a glimpse of what had riled him up so badly. He turned around in an attempt to flee.

He had almost made it back to the driver's side door of his car when he planted his face, into the cold, hard ground. He must have slipped. The predatory silhouette to his left was nowhere to be seen now. For a brief moment, I locked eyes with the man. A familiar look of excruciating fear contoured across his face. He dug his long and unkept nails into the snow, slowly crawling forwards, and then he screamed yet again. But this time, not out of fear, but in pain. Violently he was dragged back. I watched in horror as the man tried to fight it, clutching the powdery, snow as if it would actually provide a stable grip. He was dragged in front of his car, and out of my view. Just before he rounded the left side corner, I could see his red-covered hands desperately

cling to the tire, and then he was pulled away. I was in complete disbelief. It was like a scene from a horror movie, except this was real. This was actually happening. The man's wailing abruptly ceased, and besides the harsh winds of the blizzard, no sound was made. I pulled out my phone and tried my best to shake the trembling in my hands as I dialed 9-1-1. As I waited for a response, I made sure all the doors were locked while I glued my eyes to the spot where I'd last seen the man. A pair of long indentations scarred the snow where he had lay, and a crimson handprint stained the black rubber of the front tire. Come on, come on, pick up already, I harshly muttered to my phone. But I never made it past the dialing tone. Was it because I had no service? I've heard that many emergency lines

still operate in spite of a poor phone signal, but right now I was inclined to believe the contrary. I eventually gave up and put my phone down. I shrunk down into my seat, making myself as small as I could. I couldn't possibly tell you how long I sat there waiting like that. The concept of time felt irrelevant at that moment. In my reclined position, I still retained a decent line of sight to the outside world. There were no signs of movement, just an empty white canvas. I could hear no discernible sounds either. I watched in what felt like slow motion as each individually unique flake of snow landed and then proceeded to melt onto the glass. The windshield wipers fought the blizzard vigorously, brushing aside everything the malevolent storm had to offer. Then suddenly,

with a squelched thud, something heavy crashed down on the window, and the wipers were now smearing a viscous red liquid back and forth across the windshield. A nearly indescribable sense of paralyzing horror drilled into my very soul as I realized what I was looking at. I immediately recognized the sorrowed eyes and contorted expression of pain that draped across the poor man's face. But the true horror of this scene lay not with the frightful sight that greeted me no more than 12 inches away, separated only by a cracked glass screen. No, the true horror presented itself after I finally mustered up the courage to ponder the question that I'm not even sure I wanted the answer to. where was the rest of him? Upon the revelation that I was gazing at a human head,

I was compelled to scream uncontrollably at the top of my lungs, and so I did. I couldn't help it. I felt nauseous and on the verge of vomiting. It took all my strength to gather any fragment of composure that had not yet left my body, and I quickly sat up in my seat, frantically scanning my surroundings. Still, I saw nothing except a heavy downpour of snow. I tried to calm down, as I knew that panicking would only worsen whatever situation was at hand. I steadied my breathing and sat still, slowly counting down from ten. However, the grotesque sight that greeted me whenever I looked through the windshield didn't exactly help. So I closed my eyes and continued counting, focusing on controlling my breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. But even as I closed my eyes,

I still saw his face. The gruesome image had burned itself deep in. into my mind, and I felt anxious at the thought that I may never sleep peacefully again. In my distracted haze, I failed to notice that something foreign had filled the air, something ominous. It was a deep sound, barely audible, a stark contrast to the roaring winds outside. It was the kind of sound you feel rather than hear if that makes sense. It was deep and bellowing, and I swear I could feel my chest faintly vibrate, like when you're at a concert or nightclub with a really loud bass. Carefully, I rolled down my window a quarter of the way in order to better hear the curious noise. It was much clearer now, and the best way to describe it would be to call it a sort of

low-pitched rumble. Its tone fluctuated ever so slightly, as if in synchronization with short, rapid breaths. It would be a rather powerful display of vocal cords if the sound was of organic origin. I tried my best to pinpoint the direction from which the sound emanated, but I found the task to be near impossible. It may have been the wind distorting and dislocation the sound, but it sounded like it originated from every direction. I didn't know what to do. Obviously, I didn't want to exit the car and make a run for it like the previous motorist before me, but I felt that staying inside the car would only render me a sitting duck. I had no weapons to protect myself either, not even a pocket knife in the glove compartment. The only thing I had was an

old Zippo lighter, which I doubted would do any real damage in a fight. The deep rumbling subsided and was instead replaced by a hooting sound, reminiscent of that of an owl, only much deeper, like if someone blew air into a hollow tree trunk. But this sound was easy to pinpoint, and I could discern that it was coming from behind the car in front of me, where I had last seen the man before his untimely demise. I fixed my gaze toward the source of the sound, expecting to see its owner peeking around the edges of the vehicle at any moment, when I suddenly heard another identical set of deep hooting coming from my left side. I wondered how the animal, or creature, or whatever it was that made those sounds, had somehow managed to sneak past my line of sight and position itself to my left without me

noticing. But my wondering was cut short when the original set of hoots in front once again started bellowing through the winter air, as if in response to the other ones. And to my utter dismay, I slowly began to realize that whatever was making those sounds, whatever had got that man, was not alone out here. And that's when I first saw it. As if on cue, I noticed the dominant silhouette standing in the middle of the road, contrasting itself against the rushing snowfall. Slowly emerging from the harrowing blizzard, just a few yards away from the car ahead, the creature revealed itself. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before, an abominable middle finger to all of God's creations upon this earth. Its skull resembled that of a

crocodile, resting well over ten feet above the ground. It also had a large crest fixated right over its eyes, reminiscent of the horns of a bull. Its razor-sharp teeth were stained red, and red dripped down from its maw and onto the snow-covered asphalt. The entire creature was covered in dense white fur, like that of a polar bear. No wonder I hadn't spotted it until now. It was perfectly camouflaged among the powdery white snow. The rest of the body was hard to make out due to the storm, but I could tell it was huge, easily towering over the vehicle it slowly approached. It moved closer, trotting towards me in a jagged fashion. Blood still dripped from its malformed mouth. It almost looked to be smiling, almost. I looked around the cabin of the car, once more

desperately scouring for anything I could use to defend myself. Except for the bottle of liquor I had laying about, I was at a loss. At least I could ease the pain of being torn limb from limb by having a little alcohol in my system, I thought to myself. Seeing the creature uncomfortably close now, I made an attempt to just drive away. It was true what the officer had said previously about the road being extremely narrow, but in the face of certain death, I figured it was worth a shot. Though, as I was boxed in by both a car in my front and one in my rear, I would have to succeed at a difficult maneuver in order to make my escape. A maneuver I wasn't too sure I could make in these perilous conditions, but I had to try. I applied my foot down onto the gas pedal, and the tires spun around

in the snow, slinging bits of debris everywhere. Still stationary, I pressed down even harder, hoping to God that I would break free from my frozen constraints. In my panic, I gazed ahead and locked eyes with the creature. I could feel its wicked stare burrow deep into my soul. The wheels kept spinning, but I wasn't making any progress. I had waited too long. It was as I had feared earlier. I was trapped. There was nowhere to go. An ear-splitting hoot sounded just a few yards away, and I saw the creature had stopped in its tracks. It raised its head and let out another hoot.

What the hell do you want? I sobbed, punching the steering wheel in frustration. The wretched thing turned its head and let out yet another vocalization. It was as if it wanted to grab my attention, or to distract me. Before I knew it, I felt a searing pain aching throughout my body, and my world was turned upside down as a powerful force slammed into the left side of the car, sending it flying. The SUV toppled over, accompanied by the sounds of crushing metal. Thankfully, I was wearing my seatbelt, or else I would have probably broken my neck while tumbling around inside the car like dirty laundry and a washing machine.

When the car eventually came to a stop, I found myself suspended upside down in the driver's seat. The vehicle had rolled down into the nearby ditch on the side of the road. below me on the inside of the car's roof were fragments of shattered glass and heaps of snow i hadn't quite processed what had happened so i sat there for a moment taking it all in suddenly everything felt so calm and quiet i questioned if i had even survived the ordeal a warm liquid flowed down from my chin into my mouth and then down the rest of my face the stinging copper taste made me snap out of my trance and i began to assess the situation outside I heard heavy thuds rapidly approaching the vehicle. Each mighty stomp struck down into the snow with rhythm, and I could imagine the creature's mouth practically foaming at the prospect of a fresh new meal. The footsteps came to a sudden halt right outside the driver's side window,

and I turned my head to get a better look. A set of two large and powerful hind legs stood mere inches away from my face. They were covered in what looked to be reptilian-like scales lined with dense white fur, and the creature had three long talons that protruded from each foot. The deafening scraping of metal filled the air as I imagined the creature began clawing away at the undercarriage of the SUV. From the fast-paced shifting of the monster's feet, I began to understand the sheer ferocity with which it attacked.

It was going ballistic, shredding the exterior at an incredibly fast rate. A combination of hoots and growls escaped its bloodthirsty jaws as it chipped away at the metal. it wouldn't be long until it was through. Another pair of heavy footsteps stopped just a short distance away on the opposite side of the car, right outside the passenger's side window. Like its predecessor, it too began clawing and kicking at the body of the car. The two creatures were relentless. I'd never seen anything like it.

Not even wild hyenas were this ravenous. I braced for impact as I unbuckled my seatbelt, positioning myself in such a manner so that I wouldn't break my neck upon impact. I hit the ground hard and was greeted by the sensation of cold snow and broken glass. The car rocked back and forth as the creatures violently attacked. It was obvious I couldn't stay in here for long, but escaping the crushed remains of my vehicle and running out on foot didn't seem favorable either.

I felt a deep desperation begin to set in as I realized I would most likely not live to see another day. This was it. Just as all hope had faded, and I began to accept my fate, my arm brushed up against a cold and oblong object. I shifted my body around to see what it was, and a light bulb ignited inside my head as I gazed upon the still intact bottle of liquor that laid on the floor. My hands trembled as I reached deep into my pocket and extracted my old Zippo lighter. However, I examined the Jack Daniels and gauge that the contents inside would not be enough for the powerful reaction I was hoping for, so I opened the glove compartment and began searching.

Ah, there it is, I cheered as my fingers grazed upon the bottle of scented hand sanitizer, an old relic from the pandemic. It was nearly full as well. I opened the two bottles and began pouring the disinfectant alcohol down into the half-empty liquor bottle. The sanitizer mixed in with the strong bourbon would surely be enough for an improvised Molotov cocktail. I ripped off a piece of cloth from my shirt and stuffed it down the bottleneck. With the Molotov in hand, I crawled toward the cracked windshield. I spun around and pressed my feet against the shattered glass frame. In an adrenaline-infused state, I pressed my legs down and applied pressure to the windshield. I strained my body and pushed my legs harder than I'd ever done before in my life,

wishing I'd spent more time at the gym prior to this. Due to its severely damaged condition, it didn't take long before the windshield came off, and the harsh winds of the outside world filled the cabin of the upside-down car. Above me, the creature's grueled. growled and bellowed, ripping and tearing away at the framework. I could see narrow slivers of light begin to penetrate the underside of the car, meaning they were nearly through. I crawled through the new opening and out into the unforgiving blizzard. I feared that as soon as I stepped outside, one of the creatures would promptly place my head in its jaws, and I would be done for, but that never came. It seemed that they were too preoccupied with getting through the hard

exterior of the SUV, and they had failed to notice that I had made my crafty escape. I kept crawling along the snow, praying to God that the beasts wouldn't turn their hideous heads and discover the easy meal slithering away right beside it. I didn't dare look back either. I couldn't bring myself to face the abominable animals. Once I had achieved a satisfactory distance away from the car, I finally turned around and rose to my feet. I ignited my lighter and set the Molotov cocktail ablaze. Don't try this at home by the way. With all my remaining strength, I hurled the flaming bottle at the heap of scrap metal

that used to be my car and watched in glory as the fire began to rise. I even think I hit one of the creatures as I heard a dazzled yelp cry out. The flames weren't nearly big enough to cause a massive explosion or anything, but it was just enough to distract the creatures so that I was able to make a run for it.

I ran back onto the road and continued past all the vacant cars that stood further up. The ice was painted red, and a couple of human corpses, or at least what remained of them, were strung about the various abandoned vehicles. Eventually I came upon the ambulance in the police car that had arrived about an hour prior. There were no signs of the officer who had talked to me, but deep down I knew what kind of fate had befallen him. In the distance, I heard ominous rumbling sounds coming from one of

the creatures, followed by agitated hooting. Had they finally noticed I was gone? In that case, I didn't have a lot of time. I got inside the ambulance and planted myself down in the driver's seat. A frozen and severed human hand was attached to the steering wheel. I gagged as I ripped it off and tossed it out the open window. The creature's shrill cries echoed through the snowstorm, and it sounded like they were coming closer. Desperately I turned the ambulance's ignition,

and to my delight, it started up without a hitch. I kicked my foot down on the gas pedal and floored it out of there. Luckily for me, ambulances in this part of the United States come well equipped to handle hazardous terrain and snow-covered roads. As I drove, I intently watched the rearview mirror hoping I would get a last glimpse of one of the monsters. But the only things I saw were whirling snowflakes, dancing effortlessly along the icy winds that carried them. About 30 minutes of driving later, I arrived at a small town. The blizzard had begun to let up, and the sun was starting to set on the horizon. I parked outside the first roadside hotel I found and must have looked like a zombie as I frantically begged the receptionist to alert the authorities.

She looked extremely nervous, but did as I told her. After a while of talking, the kind receptionist informed me that the police would stop by first thing tomorrow morning. Apparently the nearest police station was an hour's drive away, and the raging storm had caused major problems across infrastructure all over the state, seeing as how nobody was in immediate danger, they would wait until the roads were cleared and traversal was safe again. I wasn't happy with this response, but I was too tired to really care. I checked into one of the hotel rooms and began typing all this out on my phone. There are still so many questions left unanswered, but I imagine tomorrow will bring more news about the situation. I just hope that the other motorists along that highway made it out okay, but I have my doubts. The blizzard has now subsided.

and outside my second-story window, I am treated to a view of the clear night sky and the endless expanse of the tundra. I'll admit, this landscape is beautiful, though it is a shame that I will now forever associate the tranquility of snowfall with the abhorrent horror of events prior. However, that is not all. Since it was getting hot in my room, I decided to crack my window slightly ajar. For the past hour, I have been listening to the breeze floating across the frozen countryside. There are no sounds of wild animals out here, oddly enough, but there is something else. Occasionally in the distance, the silence is broken by the ever so familiar and foreboding sound of a faint hoot crying out into the night. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars.

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experiencing something are two very different ball games. This incident happened back in November of 2022 when I was visiting a campground in Garibaldi, Oregon, on the coast with my choir class for a weekend excursion in order to get to know our classmates better. The camp we were at had two large two-story group cabins, several trails, a mess hall with a basement, and other amenities. I will not disclose the name of the camp, but if you've been there, you've been there. The first day and night of the excursion went incredibly well, with us all getting to know each other, me having horrible luck asking out the girl I liked, and overall having a good time with my friends. However, when the sun went down, things changed dramatically.

The atmosphere shifted, making everything eerie and unsettling. I didn't experience anything on the first night, but it was still very unsettling. quickly add here that my and my classmates hadn't seen a single animal during the whole trip, not even birds or squirrels, which was already bizarre. The next day was pretty normal, with our class going through all of our scheduled activities as the day went on. Dinner rolled around, and before I knew it, everyone was back in the cabins and turning in for the night. However, I couldn't sleep for some reason. I decided that it would be best if I stepped outside onto the second-story balcony to help take my mind off of things when I felt the same thing I did the

night before. That feeling of dread was coming back, as well as the feeling that there were eyes on me. The night was also deathly quiet, with only the sound of crashing waves on the beach accompanying me. But soon enough, that wasn't the only sound I was hearing. The sound came from the forest that ran parallel to the field that divided the two cabins, and it caused my body to immediately go into fight or flight and a chill to run down my spine. The sound in question was my own voice coming from the tree line. Come here, I want to show you something. Whatever it was said in my voice, though it sounded slightly off like it had been recorded and played back. I originally thought that it was just a figment of my imagination, so I rubbed my ears, hoping that I wouldn't hear it

again. But alas, it came again. Come here, I want to show you something. Exactly how it sounded before. I then got out of there, remembering the many stories I heard of Skinwalkers and how they can mimic voices. I ran into the cabin, closed the door that lead to the balcony, locked the door and closed the window, hoping not to hear anything more. I fell asleep after an hour, only to wake at 4 o'clock in the morning. I heard a single heavy step make contact with the bottom step of the metal stairs that lead to the balcony. I ignored it and began blasting music into my ears through my headphones, drowning out any other noises of the night. I hoped this would be it, but the climax came on the third and final night of our trip. The next day, we went through the daily

activities once more, and then night fell once again, but we would be spending the night, the last night of our trip, playing assassin, basically hide and seek in the woods. Before we got together to play, me and a decent-sized group of my classmates were hanging out in one of the larger fields, which had forest on three sides, and the rest of the camp on the other. We were laying out under the stars when all of us heard it. It was a loud, shrill screech, sounding like it was coming from very far away. I was reminded at that moment that the further a skin walker sounds from you, the closer it is, while the closer it sounds, the farther away it is. We then formed a defensive circle with our flashlights on bright, scanning the field and tree line,

looking for anything out of the ordinary, yet we were able to locate nothing. It was tense for about a minute until our instructor and some other students came towards our circle with their flashlights on, ready to play assassin. We were assigned our roles and began to play, entered the woods, and began to play. Nothing happened during the games, or for the rest of our trip, thank God. I only tell people about hearing my own voice as it's the easiest part of this series of events to describe to people. Not even my fiancé knows the full story, only about my own voice calling to me.

If you ask the people in that defensive circle, they'll deny that even happened, that we simply wanted to stand like that in the field. Some of them will just flat out deny that they even heard the shrieks. I've consulted with my fiancé, who is a very rational person, and looks at things from a scientific standpoint, trying to rule out all plausible explanations, and even she was completely stumped. She can't explain how I heard my own voice calling me as I have no record of having auditory hallucinations.

It was just bizarre. As I said earlier, I believe I had a run in with a skin walker or similar creature, but I guess I won't be able to find out, as I'm never going to return to that camp. If you decide to camp in the backwoods of Oregon, be careful, and watch your back, because I full-heartedly believe that there are very dangerous things in this world that make people disappear. I will first say that this is not my first encounter with something unnatural, as I've had experiences with the supernatural before this. For some context, I'm a student at a government-funded trade school on the Pacific coast of the United States, and these occurrences have apparently been

going on since before I even arrived on campus. I will state first that there are no wolves, coyotes, or stray dogs in the vicinity of the campus, but we do get a large number of wildlife from blacktailed deer, bald eagles, crows, gulls, and raccoons, as well as other critters. My first experience with this entity was around two months ago while I was living in my first dorm room, close to midnight. The room was the last room in the hall, and the large window faced the thick forest that surrounded the campus. One night while I was laying in bed while my roommate was asleep in the bed next to me, when I heard an odd sound coming from the hallway outside of our room. It sounded like claws clacking again.

against the tile floor. A sound I was used to hearing as my parents had a dog back home whose claws would clack on the hardwood floor. These sounded much heavier, though, and put me on edge as we weren't even allowed to have dogs on center, and that went for the staff as well. And like I said earlier, there are no wild canids here. So this was utterly bizarre. Why were these footfalls occurring? And in the building itself? I was deeply concerned. So I woke my roommate and explained to him what I had heard. I thought he wouldn't believe me, but surprisingly, he did. You heard it too, he said as I opened the door and looked into the hallway, only to find nothing. I remember asking him what he meant, and he proceeded to explain how he had heard the

same clacking at least three times around the same time, and he even described hearing deep howls echoing in the night. We began discussing and hypothesizing on what we were both experiencing, and concluded that we were both experiencing hellhound activity after ruling out all plausible and natural possibilities. Our campus has a rich history of tragedy and loss, all within the past 90 years of our campus's existence, which we felt was attracting negative entities like our suspected hellhound onto center.

I then began asking around after determining our culprit, trying to see if anyone else had encountered or had an experience with what we had dubbed the hound. There was actually a surprising number of people who had experienced the activity we did, and even a guy who had even seen it. By the time I finished asking around, I had at least 12 individuals from the dorms who had experiences with the hound. I wrapped up our investigation, and things went back to normal for about a week until the weekend rolled around.

I was laying in bed again with the window open when I finally heard the sound I had been anticipating ever since my roommate explained the howls he'd heard. It was the howl, deep, and guttural just like he had described. I told my roommate in the morning and he believed me, telling me that he'd even been awake and heard it too. I've even consulted with my fiancé who looks at things through a critical scientific standpoint,

and even she came up short with determining the identity of what we had experienced. I'm fairly certain that this is still a hellhound or at least another type of ghost dog, but my roommate and I have since moved out of that room, and I haven't experienced any activity since. Not loving your AT&T or T mobile bill. Yeah, we've been hearing that a lot. Good news. Bring your AT&T or T mobile bill to Verizon and we'll give you a better deal.

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U.S. second half, 2025. All rights reserved. It must provide a recent consumer mobile bill in the name of the person who gave me the deal. additional terms, conditions, and restrictions apply. This episode is brought to you by Netflix's Remarkably Bright Creatures. What if a Pacific octopus held the key to a mystery that could heal your heart?

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