Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Terrifying Scary Stories For A Sleepless Night | Cryptid, UFO, Alien, Creepy Encounters, Deep Woods

Episode Date: May 26, 2023

These are 5 Terrifying Scary Stories For A Sleepless Night | Cryptid, UFO, Alien, Creepy Encounters, Deep Woods Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Striking-Rich5626/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/twocantherapper/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/FangedFrights/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Planetsa1t/►https://www.reddit.com/user/Planetsa1t/ Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #forest #creepy 💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

I've been living in this house for about 10 years now, and I've always felt like I was being watched. I've never seen anything, but I can just feel it. It's like there's someone out there in the woods, just waiting for me to make a mistake. It started a few months ago. I was walking home from work late one night, and I saw a figure standing in the shadows of the trees. I couldn't make out any details, but I could tell it was a man. He just stood there, watching me as I walked by. I tried to forget about it, but I couldn't.

I started having nightmares about the man in the woods. In my dreams, he would chase me through the trees, his face hidden in the shadows. I would always wake up before he caught me, but I could still feel his breath on my neck. I started to avoid going outside at night. I would stay inside and watch TV or read a book, anything to keep my mind off of the man in the woods. But I knew he was still out there, waiting for me. One night, I couldn't sleep. I was tossing and turning in bed, trying to get settled.

I finally gave up and got out of bed. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I was standing in the kitchen, I heard a noise outside. I went to the window and looked out. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear the sound of someone moving through the trees. I froze. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to call the police, but I was afraid that if I made a sound, the man would hear me.

I stood there for a few minutes, just listening. The sound of movement in the tree stopped. I waited a few more minutes and then I went back to bed. I didn't sleep well that night. I kept thinking about the man in the woods. I was afraid that he was after me. The next day I went to the police. I told them about the man in the woods, but they didn't believe me.

They said that there was no one in the woods and that I was just imagining things. I know what I saw and I know what I heard. I'm not crazy. The man in the woods is real, and he's out there waiting for me. I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to go outside and I'm afraid to stay inside. I'm afraid for my life. I decided to set a trap for the man in the woods. I went to the hardware store and bought a motion sensor light and a camera. I set up the light and camera in the woods behind my house. That night I waited. I sat in my living room, watching TV and waiting for the motion sensor light. sensor light to go off. About an hour after I went to bed, the motion sensor light went off. I jumped up and ran to the window. I looked out and I saw the man in the woods. He was standing in the light, looking at my house. I took a picture of the man with my phone. I then called the police and told them what I had seen. The police came and took the picture. They said that they would investigate, but I haven't heard anything from them since. I'm still afraid. I don't know if the

man in the woods is still out there, but I'm not taking any chances. I've bought a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it. I'm just trying to live my life, but I know that the man in the woods is out there somewhere, and I know that he's watching me. 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.

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Hilton, for the stay. It was two weeks ago, Tom, and I went up Tim's Hill, and the memories still got me more messed up than a Central Park squirrel. I got into wild camping when I was a kid. I'm in my mid-30s now, and my passion for the outdoors has not diminished in the slightest. Neither has my friend Tom's, whom I've known since childhood.

We've spent many summers exploring the vast wilderness of Wisconsin together. Tom had taken a break for a few years, but since he was back in town after trying and failing to set up roots in New York, was itching to get out to the mountains. It's not the most dangerous hobby for sure, but it comes with risks. Enough to make it always feel like an adventure, you know. We'd encountered our fair share of bears, bobcats, and even a cougar. Both me and Tom had broke bones falling.

We'd even done a couple of minimal provision roughing at trips. Point being, when I say there was nothing we could have done differently, that would mean Tom is still alive. You can also sure as hell believe me when I tell you camping, it turns out, is one of the most terrifying ways to spend a weekend, and it can mess you up like nothing else. Honestly, if you've ever been considering taking it up, don't. After what happened two weeks ago,

I can say with certainty that you're, safer dabbling and recreational addiction. On this particular occasion, we had set our sights on conquering Tim's Hill, a mountain that towered over the surrounding landscape, its peak shrouded in an ethereal mist. The weather that weekend was supposed to be great, though. Prisp and clear, perfect weekend to take some tents deep into the Wisconsin wilderness and help Tom forget about Felicia. The trail up the mountain was treacherous, with steep inclines and rocky terrain that tested our endurance and resolve, but we were determined to reach the summit and bask in the glory of our achievement. As evening approached, we set up camp on a small plateau overlooking

the valley below. The moon was full, casting a soft glow over the surrounding forest and eliminating the rugged terrain. The air was still and cool, and the silence of the wilderness was broken only by the crackling of the campfire and the occasional hoot of an owl. As we sat by the campfire, enjoying some snacks, we reminisced about old times and planned for future adventures now that Tom was no longer tied down. We had just finished dinner, soaking in the beauty of the night sky. The stars twinkled like diamonds, and the moon was so bright that we could let the fire dwindle to embers, and could still see enough to take a leak in a bush without getting any on our boots. This was a good night, you know. Glad we got one last one together before it got bad. Anyway, as I said earlier, weather forecast for the

weekend had been good. We'd have been back at my place playing zombies on the same Xbox 360 we'd sunk hours into in middle school if it hadn't been set to be a clear one. We enjoy the outdoors, but we're not crazy. We were all set and expecting clear views and the welcoming crisp weather that makes you feel lucky to live in Wisconsin. But as the night deepened, a thick fog began to roll in, obscuring the moon and shrouding the campsite in an eerie mist. The trees loomed like dark sentinels in the mist, their branches creaking and rustling in the wind. The fire flickered and danced, casting strange shadows on the ground. With each moment their past the fog grew denser, thicker, until it became almost oppressive, clinging to our skin and clothes like a damp, cold blanket.

It was as if the mist had a presence beyond the physical, a malevolent force that seeped into our bones and made us shiver from more than the wet chill of it. The smell was the worst part. It was a horrid, rotten stench that hung heavy in the air, making us gag with every breath. It was as if something had passed and was decomposing just out of sight, emitting its putrid odor into the night. The mist itself was a sickly gray color, like the color of decay. It swirled and edded, creating strange, ghostly shapes and shadows that seemed to move independently of the mist itself. It was as if the fog was alive, a sentient entity that was watching us with malevolent intent. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I realized that there was something deeply unsettling about this mist.

I couldn't shake the feeling that we were not alone in the wilderness that night and that whatever was out there was not friendly. I voiced my concerns to Tom when we heard it. A rustling in the bushes nearby caught our attention. We both froze, unsure of what to expect. Was it a wild animal? Or just a harmless critter? We cautiously peered into the darkness, but, couldn't see anything. We shrugged it off, assuming it was just the wind or a small animal

scurrying about. Probably wasn't scurrying, though, thinking about it. It was probably running for its life. Funny how hindsight changes your perspective. The smell didn't leave, and neither did the paranoia. Definitely enough to make us call it there and pick up the good times again tomorrow, though. Vibe was totally gone. As we prepared to turn in for the night, I couldn't shake the feeling of that had settled over me. The mist had somehow grown even thicker and visibility had all but gone. Time passing made the unshakable edginess worse, not better, too. We crawled into our tents, zipping them uptight to keep out the damp chill of the fog. Lying there in the darkness, I listened to the sounds of the night. The wind howled through the trees, and the branches creaked

and groaned as if in protest. We'd camped these mountains dozens of times. I didn't get spooked by nature. My own fear was making me fearful for no reason other than it being so alien. It was that damn mist. I couldn't get it out of my head or nostrils. It's like it and the smell that hung on it like something rancid in the sun for a week seemed to seep into the tent, muffling all sound and suffocating me in its clammy embrace. Despite my unease, I eventually drifted off to sleep, my dreams filled with strange and unsettling images that, thank God, were gone from my memory the moment my eyes opened. troubled rest was short-lived too, as a sudden noise jolted me awake. I sat up, heart-pounding, and peered through the foggy tent flap into the darkness.

And that's when I saw it. It took me a few seconds to realize my eyes had even honed in on a form, but once it dawned on me they had, I couldn't ignore it. There was something out there, miles away, a shape carved against the jagged mountain peaks that shouldn't be stood amongst them. Something was moving in the mist, a dark shape that seemed to be coming toward Tim Hill. Something as vast as it was distant, a nondescript shadow barely distinguishable within and against the thick fog and broiling midnight clouds. I couldn't make out what it was,

and I even thought at the time that it was probably just a trick of the absent light, but the fear that gripped me was all too real. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the shape vanished into the mist. It left something in its wake, though. Soft rumbling bass tone in the ear, a steady thumping almost like the slow heartbeat of some deep sea leviathan. I frantically shook Tom awake, whispering urgently to him to be quiet and listen. We sat there in the darkness, holding our breath and straining to hear any sound. But there was nothing, only the rustling of the wind, and the creaking of the trees. We sat for what felt like an eternity, waiting for another sound, but there was none.

Eventually, we felt sheepish and started laughing nervously, trying to convince ourselves that it was just our imaginations playing tricks on us. We settled back down into our sleeping bags, ready to drift off again. But just as we were about to succumb to sleep, there was a loud boom that shook the earth beneath us. And then another, as if some prehistoric monstrosity had clawed its way out of the annals of ultra antiquity

to stalk the landscape once more. We leapt out of our tents, the fear that had gripped us earlier returning with a vengeance. A mist had grown so thick it felt like it was basically a liquid while we slept, and we emerged from the tent to find we could barely see a few inches in front of us. We stumbled around, trying to swivel our ears to the source of the noise and impending danger. But there was nothing, only the crushing dread and stench of the fog. I was about to yell to Tom that we needed to run when, as soon as it had started, the booming stopped.

For a few eye of the storm moments there was silence and stillness, but then Tom let out a half-panicked, half-excited yell. He said he saw something in the far distance, a light that flickered and danced in the darkness. I asked him what the heck he was talking about, and he started babbling about, and I kid you not, a UFO. Sky lanterns, he said, a pair of them, bobbing around nothing like a plane or chopper would, but it was too far away to be sure. Without warning, he ran off into the fog, leaving me alone in the darkness. I stood there, paralyzed with by the unhealthy injection of unfamiliarity into our trip, unsure of what to do. The silhouette that we had seen earlier loomed large in my mind, and Tom's talk of UFOs after a succession of artillery like booms didn't help assuage the fixation at all.

Did I want to run? To grab my flashlight and head down Tim's Hill as fast as my legs could carry me, you're damn right I did. That's all I wanted to do. But, unfortunately, I'm not a jerk. I couldn't leave Tom alone in the fog, so I set off after him, stumbling blindly through the mist. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my breath came in short, ragged gasps. I called out to him, but there was no response. And then I heard the sound of running water, a rushing stream that cut through the darkness. I followed the sound, my feet slipping on the wet stones beneath me. And then through the mist, I saw it.

A vast silhouette looming in the darkness cut into focus only briefly by a lest. lightning flash of the sky lanterns Tom had followed. The shape of it in distinct, menacing, and most harrowing of all, impossible to deny the existence of. It towered over me, seeming to stretch up into the very heavens, the peak of it obscured by the twin flares just emerged from above the cloud canopy to illuminate it. Before I could whip the beam of my flashlight around to console myself with lies about my mind playing tricks on me though, it vanished into the mist, leaving me once again alone. I stood there, trembling with fear, unsure of what to do. And then I heard Tom's voice, calling out to me from somewhere in the distance. I stumbled through the mist toward him,

my heart pounding in my chest. When I finally found him, he was standing on the edge of a cliff, peering out into the darkness. He said he had caught a glimpse of something in the distance, a light that flickered and danced in the fog. Or that's how he described it, at least. But when he ran toward it, it vanished into the mist. I didn't have to think long to put two and two together. I didn't know what was going on, but this thing Tom was so desperate to find, I was equally invested in getting away from. I tried in vain to convince him that no good could come of those skylights to explain what I'd witnessed before I'd found him, to get rid of any wild panicked ideas about UFOs, but it was no use. We stood there arguing for what felt like ours,

all the while waiting for something, anything, to happen. There were no more quaking booms, no more sky lanterns descending from the clouds. The mists swirled around us and the darkness seemed to press in on us from all sides. The weirdness of Tim's Hill had lulled, and I'd just about managed to convince Tom to head back to the tent. I'd even managed to half convince myself I'd imagine the skyscraper-sized figure in the fog, that it had indeed been the product of some kind of hallucination. Then it stood up. It towered over us, the cliff edge barely at waste height, the treetops of the evergreens below just about scraping its knees.

Before it had been far enough away that I only caught a fleeting glimpse of its outline. This close, the beams of our flashlights could unmask its form in all its abyssal glory. I knew instantly we were in the presence of true horror. No mortal had the psychological resilience to truly comprehend. A creature that defied all logic and reason, a huge thing wearing the front of the first. form of a blackened human skeleton, almost as if it existed to blasphemously mock the concept of life. Its skeletal frame easily stood hundreds of feet tall, towering over everything in its path. Its tree trunk thick bones were gnarled and twisted, as if they had grown warped from years of

neglect. Each was covered in a thick layer of dark, oily grime, as if it had been coated in the filth of the most degradation-ridden metropolis in human history. But it was the monster's eyes that robbed me of all hope in an instant, despite its eyes and the nightmarish nature of its impossible frame. Its eyes, the sky-lantern UFOs Tom had been chasing, glowed with an otherworldly light, casting in hairy, sickly haze on everything around us as it bent its skull down toward the cliff edge. The brightness that emanated from them was not the warm, comforting light of the sun, but a cold, sterile shimmer that seemed to drain some of the vibrancy, and for lack of a better term, the reality from all it touched. The creature was draped in what appeared to be a cloak at first,

but as it lowered itself to us and got closer I realized that it wasn't clothing. This abomination wore a perpetually cascading waterfall of murky, pungent water, a perpetual torrent of what I can only describe as sewer drainage filled with debris, garbage, and human waste of all kinds. The river of filth evaporated to steam at the skeletal giant's black-bone feet, billowing out into the world as a cloud of gaseous haze of rot and misery. The putrid stench that emanated from it was overwhelming, filling our nostrils and making us gag. It was as if the fog had been amplified a thousand-fold, and I'm genuinely amazed neither Tom or I choked. It was as if this being was a walking, breathing landfill, a monument to the waste and excess of humanity. As the monster crouched,

the movement of its mammoth bony thighs alone was enough to leave destruction in its wake. The ground beneath its feet turned black and withered, as if all the life had been taken out of it. Trees and plants wilted and died, their leaves turning brown and crumbling to dust. It was as if the monster's very presence was toxic to the environment, a harbinger of decay. A necrotic rotting giant let out a deafening roar that shook the very ground beneath us, and we could smell its putrid breath from where we stood. And then the monster did something that still makes me shudder to this day. It began to vomit.

Oh God, the vomit. The black, slimy substance that the monster spewed forth was unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was thick and viscous, like tar, and it seemed to melt everything in its path. The smell of it was overpowering, like a mixture of rotting flesh, medical waste, and burning garbage. The ground beneath it sizzled and steamed, and the trees and plants where it landed withered and died. To my horror and disgust, any organic matter of the forest caught in the titans' unholy bile, devolved into a puddle of stagnant, steaming waste. And so did Tom.

Had I been standing about five foot to the right, none of you would be reading like this. I wasn't standing five foot to the right, though, so when the colossal paragon of filth lowered its titanic skull, and opened its coalish jaw, I walked away unscathed save for a minor yet still painful bit of acidic backsplash. Tom didn't. He was directly underneath the upended geyser of noxious flum

that exploded from between the beings, hard cracked teeth. I'm glad it all happened too fast for me to process at all. If I'd have been aware I might have tried to do something stupid like Tackle Tom to get him out of the way. The fact all I could do was watch with my lip trembling is one of the few reasons I'm still alive. As I watched my friend being consumed by the monster's vomit, I felt a mixture of horror and revulsion that I could never have fathomed was possible. My cowardice and lack of action in the face of the sheer evil we'd encountered, gave it a cruel introspective aspect, too. It's an emotion I'm sure was caused by the towering postulant skeleton's presence, as much by its actions, too. It was a primordial disgust,

one stored in the deepest bowels of our DNA to be pulled to the four only when the things that terrorized our most ancient ancestors returned. I couldn't bring myself to approach Tom during the few seconds I lingered at the cliff edge after the waterfall of septic acid ceased. The black, slimy substance was getting him. His skin turned an ash and gray, and it began to crumple and folded on itself like molten tarmac. I could hear his screams of agony, but they were soon drowned out. It was a sickening sound, like the cracking of wood in a fire, and it made my stomach turn. A response worsened by the grisly sights that came with the cacophony of suffering.

The worst part was that enough of his face remained to make his eyes widening and shock clear to see, and the knowledge he was aware of everything that happened right up until the end will scar me for life. After what was left of Tom was gone, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, and I knew that I was going to be sick. I turned away from the sight, but the retching continued. It was a violent and uncontrollable reaction, one that was born out of the sheer horror of what I was witnessing. I could feel my muscles contracting and spasming, and then it came. The vomit that I spewed forth wasn't a noxious tide of lethal mucus. It was a thick, chunky mess, a mixture of the dinner that we had eaten earlier, and the bile that had been building up in my stomach.

It was a disgusting sight, and it only served to make the horror of the situation even more real. Thankfully, I managed to remember why I'd just seen Tom literally freaking melt in front of me, just in time to throw myself sideways, and avoid meeting the same fate myself. The sound of the thing from the fog roaring made my heart skip at least three beats, but the rest of my body didn't care. I ran so hard. I didn't know where to go beyond that, my destination was as far from that Tim's Hill as I could possibly freaking make it. Thing is, I wasn't the only one running. As soon as I could hear the thunderous footsteps behind me, I knew that I was not going to make it out alive. The shaking of the ground dam near catapulted me over a ledge or down a hill more than once, during the five or so minutes I actually managed to keep going. It's honestly a miracle I didn't get injured.

Every time I stumbled and fell I'd look over my shoulder to the clouds above the mist, and always I saw the monster's glowing eyes staring down at me. The final time they were right above me, so close I could make out their eldritch glimmer, casting an obnoxious sheen across the gargantuan skull. I distinctly remember thinking this is it, this is the end. The mortician stench reeking in the mist intensified as the mucus began to bubble and pull between jaws lowering themselves beneath the line of the tree canopy. I closed my eyes, my face suddenly numb, and my limbs inexplicably far away from my senses.

Then everything went black. I was passed out for three days. Sheriff Harwurst was at the foot of my hospital bed when I awoke, and immediately had questions, most of them around where Tom was. I gave him my answers, and to my amazement he didn't call me a lunatic. He just sighed, scribbled something in his notebook, and left. I was still pretty out of it even by the time he'd gone. It was until a few hours later that the horror of everything that happened hit me like a claw hammer right in my will to go on.

When I finally regained my senses fully, my mind was a jumbled mess of fragmented memories. Not what happened with me and Tom on Tim's Hill, you understand, that was unfortunately crystal clear. The bits I still can't piece together despite really needing to are how I got from there to that damn hospital. Here's the thing, I agree with you reading this right now. I should be gone, so what in the Deos X-Mist? is going on. That's what this is all about, why I'm determined to follow this through and not just swallow up the lie. The first thing I recall was the sound of gunfire ringing in my ears, followed by the deafening roar of the monster. Then there was a massive explosion that shook the ground beneath me. I remember feeling a rush of hot air, and debris hitting my face,

before everything went silent. The next thing I remember is the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air and then the sensation of being lifted off the ground. I must have been airlifted to a hospital because the next thing I saw was a thin-faced man with a really unnerving aura looking down at me with a disapproving expression. He was muttering something to Sheriff Harwurst, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. My head was pounding with pain, and I was struggling to stay conscious. Despite the concussion, I knew that something terrible had happened. The monster had been real and it had nearly taken me. But what had happened to it? Had the gunfire and explosion eliminated it, or had it escaped? Who had even shown up to stop it? No way did the police have the minds of munitions

you'd need to take down something like that. Whatever the hell that thing was. I must have sent something, heard something that could put the pieces together. It had something to do with the thin-faced man and sheriff Harwurst, but who was he? I couldn't remember and the uncertainty only made me feel more frightened and alone. It was a relief when the doctors finally gave me something to ease my pain and helped me slip back into unconsciousness. That was two weeks ago. Tom's disappearance as being treated, I found out through an old friend in the Marathon County Sheriff's Office as a natural accident, with the rationale being Tom and I were caught in a freak avalanche. What I saw had been explained away as a concussion-induced dream. Avalanches and concussions don't cause

acid burns though, do they? So why do I have a splatter pattern of them across my right cheek and arm? To this day, I don't know what that monster was, or where it came from, or why it didn't let me suffer the same fate as Tom, but I know one thing for sure. Something weird is going on in Marathon County and the police, or at the very least Sheriff Harwurst are covering it up. The memory of that night still haunts me, and I can only hope that no one else ever has to witness the terror that I did on Tim's Hill. Me, though. I need answers, even if it means coming face to face with that thing again. I'm writing this as a kind of fail-safe, I guess. I'm going to go poking around, starting with Harwurst's house. My friends reading this, you know who you are, have been told

what to do if I disappear after today. Sorry I couldn't tell you why you needed my social passwords, etc., but would you have believed me before? As for why I'm making it public, it's because I didn't want to put the burden of sharing this on someone else. This could run deep, there could be consequences for posting or even talking about it. I was the one up there with Tom. All those risks should be on me. Someone had to blow the whistle through. Something evil is lurking in Marathon County and people need to stay the hell away from Tim's Hill. Kayak gets my flight, hotel, and rental car right, so I can tune out travel advice that's just plain wrong. Bro, Skycoin, way better than Never fly during a Scorpio full moon.

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Whether you're building it up for a full glam moment or target. targeting correction for a more natural vibe. At only $12, it's great for affordable touch-ups on the go. Get this new must-have concealer at Sephora or at Sephora.com today. It was a typical weekend night and I had just settled into my cozy apartment, ready to binge watch my favorite show on Netflix. My roommate had gone out for the weekend, leaving me alone, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed the solitude. The apartment was located in a peaceful neighborhood and I had never felt unsafe before. As the night dragged on and the show played on my laptop,

I noticed a strange noise outside. At first, I attributed it to lousy insulation, or maybe the wind, but it persisted. Curiosity eventually got the best of me, and I tiptoed to the window, gently pulling the curtains aside to peek out. I wasn't expecting to see anything, but there it was,

the bright glow of a flashlight shining into my window, hovering like a menacing eye. The heart raced in my chest and my hands started to shake uncontrollably. For a moment, my brain couldn't wrap around what was happening. I didn't have any enemies or people angry with me or my roommate. Why would someone be peeping inside our apartment at 11 p.m.? Quickly, my instincts kicked. I quickly moved away from the window to prevent the person from discovering I noticed them.

Taking deep breaths, I tried to halt my panicky thoughts as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Who could be doing this? Was it someone I knew? As I tried to recall if I had gotten any threat or passed through someone who I hadn't been quite friendly with, the torch outside grew stranger. The person didn't move, but the sound of footsteps, pacing slowly, echoed outside of my window.

Now that someone was stalking me, freaked me out even more. I pulled myself together, grasping from my phone to dial 911. As I fumbled from my phone, my mind went on overdrive with worst-case scenarios. What would happen if the stalker finds a way into the apartment? Should I open my door and bolt to the next-door neighbor's house, exposing myself to more danger? My painful thoughts were interrupted when the person outside spotted my movements,

and the light was immediately turned off. Fear clenched my muscles and made it impossible to speak, I stood frozen for a moment, hoping that whoever was outside had left. But then I heard a slow, tapping, sound, like someone was testing the locks of my apartment's front door. My body began to shake with fear, and my mind raced with different options that would keep me relatively safe. Without much of a second thought any longer, I gathered all the courage left in me, wrapped a blanket closely around my

body, grabbed my phone, and sneaked out the balcony into the chilly night. From my vantage point, I could see the shadow of a person lingering outside the front door, slowly removing something from their pocket and flexing what looked like a metallic object in their hand. I knew that my only route of escape was to climb down the fire escape, and that was what I did at lightning speed. My heart racing, I stumbled and fell but kept pushing, barely feeling the freezing cold concrete floors as I made my way down. Just as I finally got closer to the ground floor, I noticed the dimly lit backstreet alley filled with crates, trash cans, and odd scarps that can hide any danger waiting for me. Finally, when my feet hit the unremarkable path, I sprinted with pumps to the patrol police station nearby,

explaining every bit of experience out of breath to the policeman, who kindly reassured me and dispatched some officers back to my haunted apartment. After what looked like forever, the policeman came out with news that the crazed individual had fled. They didn't quite believe that my home was targeted, as another apartment down the floor had been robbed the evening before. I tried to press for the matter anyway, but it occurred to me that as scared as I was, I would never know whether it was a mistake that my grounds were picked, or it was an intentional act. For days, I slept remaining vigilant, setting a bigger bolt to prevent any unauthorized access. But the thought of an unknown, terrifying stalker out there was still holding true in my mind. Every creaking floorboard and outside noises made me jump,

always leaving my over-worryed mind in an anxious state. A few weeks ago the most terrifying experience of my life occurred. It honestly feels like a blur, and I'll try and recall as much detail as possible, but I may have to update as other parts come back to me. My girlfriend and I live in a mid-sized city in Pennsylvania. Every few weeks, during the warm months at least, we like to plan a little getaway into the country to do outdoorsy stuff. Since we moved to this area a few years ago,

we've gotten very into skiing, rock climbing, hiking, camping and just sitting around a fire in nature. We've gotten very good at scouring the internet for obscure, rustic places to visit. A few weeks ago, we were itching to get out of town on a Wednesday. With only a few days coming up until the weekend, we knew our options might be limited due to the last-minute nature of our planning. Most of the Airbnbs we usually stay or booked up. My girlfriend works in the city government and near her office is a set of community bulletin boards that people post upcoming events, things for sale, etc. So that Thursday she comes home with a number to call for a cabin

about an hour away that was for rent this weekend, for a far more reasonable price than we usually pay. We call the number, a middle-aged sounding man named Peter answers, and says we're all set to stay the night out in the cabin the next day. We're ecstatic at this time over our abilities to find cool little vacation spots. Next day we both duck out of work a bit early and hit the road around three. and get to the place a little after four. Peter owns a very large property that's about 25 acres of mostly forested land.

When you pull up to it, his house is fairly close to the road, and you park in his driveway. Peter came out to meet us. He's older than I expected, a bit gruff-looking but friendly. For a while we stand in the driveway and make small talk, and he tells us about how he's owned the property since the mid-1970s. The cabin is a ways back on a foot trail behind his house. Peter said his nearest neighbor is about two miles down the road so we shouldn't be seeing, or hearing anyone else while we're out there, but that bears and deer do wander in the woods,

so don't be too shocked if we hear rustling in the night. My girlfriend and I have stayed in enough shacks or tents at this point to not be scared of nighttime noises. So we're just about ready to head off when the first sign of anything unusual hits us. Peter hands us a guy-gir-counter, a little device that reads radioactivity levels. At first I don't know what I'm looking at and think he's just handing me an extra flashlight. I've only ever seen one of these things in movies. Peter explains that he built the cabin a few years after buying the land, and for the first few years used it as a hunting cabin.

He started renting out in the mid-80s and over the years has rented to literally hundreds of people, most of whom never report any problems and give only positive reviews. But apparently in the 80s, Peter at one point rented the place to a couple of that was very paranoid about radiation poisoning because we're not too far away from where the three-mile island incident occurred. Peter said the property was well outside the areas

that were evacuated at the time, but this couple who took a Geiger counter everywhere claimed that they'd heard theirs going off in the night, but that it stopped by the time morning came. Peter said after that he'd bought his own Geiger counter and started giving it to the people who rent the cabin just for theirs and his peace of mind. He said once in a while,

Not often, but every couple of years or so, some people would report the Guy Gyr counter making noise at night. For those who don't know, when Guy Girk counters detect radiation, they make this awful sort of clicking, buzzing sound that intensifies as the levels get higher. So we're a bit weirded out by this, but if anything, we're comforted by Peter's honesty, and so we just thank him and set off down the trail. It's not a far walk and we arrive at the cabin about 20 minutes later. That might not sound like a great distance. but it's far enough that you're surrounded on all sides, but nothing but forest.

The cabin is only one room, wooden, and has a porch on the front with a swinging chair. Inside there's just two double beds, a wood stove, and some counters. There's no running water or electricity, so the outhouse is the only bathroom. For the next few hours we have a great time. We have a little fire, cook a bit of food, tell campfire stories, and then decide to get ready for bed around 9 p.m. when it's getting really dark. My girlfriend and I are sharing one of the double beds and the Geiger counter, which I had sort of forgotten about, is sitting against the wall that leads to the porch at the front of the cabin.

It was a very quiet night, and other than the quiet sound of rustling leaves outside, you could hear a pin drop in that cabin. I'm never a great sleeper on these trips, so I was sort of in and out of consciousness for quite a while, just listening to the leaves outside when suddenly I hear one of those horrible clicks that the machine makes. Instantly my eyes are wide open and the pitch black and my muscles are tense. For a moment, I think I might have imagined it since it was just a single click, but then there's another, and another, periodically getting louder and more frequent. My girlfriend is a much better sleeper than I am,

so she hasn't heard it at this point, but by now the guy Gurg counter has a consistent click going, and I'm honestly terrified. I don't want to cause us both to panic, so I slowly nudge my girlfriend awake and the guy Gher counter is loud enough that she isn't. instantly asks, what the noise is. The next thing I do is fumble around and look from my watch on the floor next to the bed. When I find it, I see that it's a little after 11. It's pitch black and I can't find the flashlight, so I just get out of the bed and stumble in the direction of the Geiger counter which is still getting louder. I'm down on all fours when my hands find it and I'm

shaking a little as I pick it up, insistent that it's broken or misreading the air somehow. What I saw next quite nearly made me crap a brick. It was easier to see outside than in the cabin because of the moonlight shining through the leaves, and I could get a glimpse of the area around the fire pit. As I stand up with the Geiger counter, I look outside and see a woman standing there, facing the dying embers of our fire. Now I'm paralyzed with fear and confusion. I'm standing there holding this Geiger counter that is now screaming constant noise, and getting as good a look as I can at this woman standing out there. It's a chilly night in the 40s,

and she looks to be wearing a dress that comes down to about her knees. Her hair is messy, curly but unkempt, but I can't make out much more. I can't get a look at her face, but it's clear that she's facing the fire pit, possibly looking down into it or just over it, and off into the distance. My girlfriend is still in bed sitting and hasn't seen the woman yet.

All of a sudden, my girlfriend asks, What's going on? At full volume. I panic and wave my hands at her to keep the noise down, not wanting this stranger to hear that we're in the cabin, but it's too dark for my girlfriend to see. Then I see the woman turn her head toward us. I start breathing heavily.

I drop the Geiger counter and run back toward the bed where I whisper loud enough for my girlfriend to hear. There's someone outside. She now understands the reason for my panic and tenses up in the bed. The next thing I do is go to the table. door, walking low to try and hide, and turn the lock on the doorknob, very quietly testing the knob to make sure it's locked. I'm almost too afraid to check, but I peer just over the edge of the window and the door to see where the woman is and let out a little yelp when I see

she's still coming, but moving slowly. The fire pit is about 30 feet from the door and she's about 15 feet away now. I go back to the bed and find my girlfriend through touch, as it's too dark for us to see each other, but I want us to be out of bed and ready to make a run for it if we have to. The Geiger counter, obviously, is still near the door and is on what must have been its max volume. We ducked down in the corner between the bed and the wall, and wait silently. I hear the woman's footsteps as she comes up the steps to the cabin. I'm waiting for her to try the door and just praying that she goes away after.

My eyes are locked on the window and the door, but after I hear her walking on the steps, I don't see her emerge. A few minutes pass, we're still both on as high alert as we can be. For a minute I'm expecting to see her peering in one of the other windows and my eyes dart around. My ears are locked in trying to listen for footsteps, but I can't distinguish between potential steps and leaves in the wind. Time stands still for a while.

We're still sitting in the corner in a state of near panic, the Geiger counter still screaming. But then the Geiger counter starts to break a bit, the clicking slows down. Slowly but surely, over the next couple minutes, or maybe hours, it's hard to tell, the Geiger counter stops and silence falls over the cabin again. Meadless to say, we did not sleep the rest of the night. We huddled in the corner and waited for dawn to break.

When it did, we packed as quickly as possible, and literally ran the trail back to Peter's house. The whole time both of us were looking around constantly to see if any strange woman was coming at us. When we got to Peter's house, I set the Geiger counterer. on the porch and did not wait to tell him about our night. We got in the car and drove off as fast as possible. We've both been seen by doctors since and had tests run and as far as we can tell, we're not suffering from radiation symptoms. But we're both very shaken up and every night,

when it's dark, I can't help but think I can see the radioactive woman standing outside. This is a Bose moment. You've been there. Small talk's going nowhere, but then the Bose speaker kicks in. Music you can feel fills the room, and no more chat with Danny from accounts. Your life deserves music. Your music deserves Bose. Find your perfect product at Bose.com. This spring, Uber Eats has you covered.

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and, or remote cabins to rent to get out of the mid-sized city we live in on weekends. This past weekend, we made quite a venture all the way out to a small town in the white mountains of New Hampshire where a relative of mind has a very large home. She was out of town for a weekend, with our cabin obsession in mind, asked us if we'd like to make the trek to the mountains and watch the house while she's gone. We readily accepted and started packing almost immediately. After a long drive-thru snow-capped mountains, we arrived. When I say this is a small town, I mean there's literally only about 200 people in the town. There's one general store, one gas station, and no police force in the town. The house is on a dirt road that leads into the mountains and it has a hiking trail that

leads into miles of intricate trails at the end. The houses are quite far apart on this street and each lot is at least a few acres of land. Meadless to say, it's quiet most of the time in the house. The building itself is so large, it's almost cavernous. This is aided by the fact that much of the ground floor is one high ceiling room with a balcony that looks over it from the second floor. There's also a small third floor and a partially finished basement. It's mostly wood paneling everywhere and pictures of the nearby mountains or family members on various skiing trips adorning the walls. My girlfriend and I were in heaven in this place. We loved it as soon as we arrived. It was an excellent place to stay. The owner let us know that in this town, everyone leaves their doors

unlocked as there's hardly been any break-ins in memory. Most people in the town know each other, and most of the time when she goes out of town, a neighbor or friend will just let themselves into do the housekeeping. My aunt took off and left us alone there with her dog, a skinny, older poodle water dog mix who was very sweet named Jenry. By then it was around six or so. We went to the one bar in town and had a small town meal that couldn't be beat, went to bed, and didn't get up until the next morning. Bright and early, with the sun, so we could watch the sun come up over the still snow-capped mountains. We slept through the night without incident on the first night.

But when we got up, I noticed some little oddities. Keep in mind this is our first night ever in this house, so we don't know the ins and outs of this proverbial palace, but I couldn't help but notice a couple things that were seemingly strange. For one, the refrigerator had a large supply of local goat cheese in it when we'd arrived. That morning, about half of it was gone. Taken straight out of the foil it was. wrapped in. I hadn't touched it and my girlfriend is a vegan, but I figured it was possible

that it had been like that when we got here, and I had forgotten. Even stranger though, the front door, which consists of a wooden door and a screen door behind it, was just a jar. This I was positive I had checked before going to bed because it had practically been in the 30s in the night. The front part of the house was quite cold as a result of the door being open, so I closed it. I figured it was possible I hadn't closed it hard enough for or something and slid open. During the day we went into the trails at the end of the road and explored with the dog.

The network of trails back there was actually so intricate that we got lost for about an hour. It was around midday and we started to encourage Jenry to lead us since he'd been on the trails so many times and might know the way. To do this we kind of hyped him up until he was really worked up, the way you do to get dogs excited, and then both yelled go, and let him run off so we could follow.

For an old dog, Jenry could run a surprise, long way, but not that quickly so we were able to keep up. It turned out Jenry was leading us somewhere, but not directly to the house. He led us down a couple trails and made a series of turns that I couldn't keep track of, but we were so lost at that point that we might as well have just made turns at random. Eventually the trail started to narrow, and I could see a building up ahead. Jenry began to slow down and then, oddly, stopped in the middle of the trail and sat down. I stopped as well, not wanting to wander onto someone's property and knelt down to grab

Jenry's collar. He was acting strangely. He was staring straightforward, as if concentrating on something. The trees around us here were younger pines, thick enough that I couldn't get a good idea of this building up ahead, but that I could sort of make out its outline. It looked to be small, maybe a one-floor cabin. But Jenry clearly sensed something was in this pine brush with us. I was confused, thinking at odd that the dog had led us here only to stop dead, and sit silently.

Then I followed Jenry's eyes to where he was looking in the pines and saw a figure moving slowly. I realized just then, over the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, that I could hear soft footsteps moving adjacent to us. Now my eyes followed this figure as well as it treaded lightly over the soft ground. It appeared to cross the trail that was around a bend in front of us, and kept moving through the trees until it stopped, just a silhouette between us and this cabin. It looked like it could be roughly the size of a person, but it was hard to tell. At that moment, I figured it was a bad look if we had come face to face with the owner of the parcel,

and just sat there staring so I let out a friendly hello. But I got no response. The figure just stood in silence. Sorry for wandering onto your land, I continued. We're a bit lost and our dog ran down here. Still no answer. The figure was so still I thought it might have left, or I imagined it, just an apparition. Either way I had a bad feeling. I stood up, hunched over to keep a hand on Jenry's collar, and led him back the other way. It turns out Jenry had gotten us quite close

and we only had to make one more turn to find our way back to our house. The rest of that day went without incident. We made food, had a fire, and sang our campfire songs, had another mountain dinner that couldn't be beat and went to bed. This time I made very sure that the door was closed and actually did lock it to make sure it stayed shut. This was more out of concern that the house would be cold in the morning than anything else. At this point I wasn't worried about anything, but I was still a little unnerved from the encounter on the trails earlier today. My relative had never mentioned any strange people living in cabins nearby in the woods. From what I had heard, everyone in town was very friendly and personable. It wasn't like these small town folk to not

answer when someone wanders onto their land. That night, strange things started to happen. We went to bed early, around nine at night. It's very quiet at night in that house. The only sounds are generally the wind and sometimes an animal walking outside. Around midnight, we were woken up abruptly to a loud beeping sound coming from the basement. As you can imagine, we were both freaked out by it. It was too loud to ignore, so we both got up and turned lights on as we ventured down into the basement. It's an oddly designed house in that there's no light switch at the top of the basement stairs, and you have to wander down part way in complete darkness before you hit the switch at the bottom of the staircase to turn the basement lights on. My girlfriend and I both ventured down, holding hands and I could tell we were both a little freaked out.

We turned the lights on and our fears were momentarily quelled as we realized the beeping was coming from the water heater. I messed around with some buttons on the machine until I hit one that finally got it to stop the loud beeping, when suddenly a new noise entered my awareness. On the ground floor, directly above us, I could hear footsteps. I immediately froze and whirled around to look at my girlfriend. She did the same and we both instinctively held a finger up to our lips signaling to stay quiet. I didn't move or even take a breath. The steps were at a pace that seemed calm, not rushed or nervous but were distinctly two-legged. What I couldn't figure out was why Jenry was so quiet.

He was the type of dog that freaked out barking whenever someone came in the door or even just if there was a groundhog in the yard. If anyone had maliciously entered the house, Jenry would probably be losing his mind. Yet it was totally quiet. As steps began in the living room and were moving in the direction of being over us. Every so often I could hear them stop for a moment, then start, stop, and start. I could see up the steps to the living room and at one point, as the steps paused, saw the lights turn off in the living room. My heart almost stopped as I realized whoever this was, they were stopping to turn off all the lights we had turned on on our way down here.

My next thought was they would surely come downstairs to turn the light off down here before getting to whatever they were going to do. My head snapped toward my girlfriend, she appeared to have the same idea. As quietly as we could, we moved toward the back of the basement, out of view of the stairs. and waited. The steps continued to move toward the bedroom that we were staying in on the ground floor, pausing here and there ostensibly to turn off the lights. I worried for Jenry and for us. As the steps reached where our bedroom would be, they stopped again. I listened intently, waiting for them to start again, but was shocked to hear they never did. It was like whoever was up there had just slipped out a window or teleported. After waiting a while, we emerged and

very quietly moved back upstairs, terrified to look around every corner. Inexplicably, we couldn't find anything strange. We turned the lights on again and checked every entrance. There wasn't a window open. A door cracked. The front door was still locked, even. Genry was sound asleep and gave me a look as if to ask what all the fuss was about. I looked all over the bedroom we were in to see if there was a way out of the house from there, but couldn't find one. I felt like a crazy person as I even looked for a trap door in the closet. The window was closed and locked. We barely slept that night but felt much better in the morning. We decided not to call the police, figuring if someone had gotten in the house January would have barked and there would have been evidence of it.

We couldn't explain what happened, but we had both been shaken up by the incident in the woods and decided to just try and move on. The day went on and we did our typical mountain life things. We chopped wood, cooked and made a fire, checked out the local. bar again and then came home as night fell. I think we both felt a little on edge as we settled down to go to bed and understandably so. I decided to move Jenry's dog bed into our room for the night. For some reason it was comforting. Night fell and all was silent again. I'm a notorious insomniac whereas my girlfriend could sleep through a nuclear bomb test. I lied awake, waiting for something to happen, sure that it would. The hours passed. Midnight passed. One, two, still

nothing. I slept intermittently and lightly. Then around three, upstarts the water heater again. My girlfriend wakes up as well and puts a pillow over her head. I also want to ignore it, hoping it will just shut off itself. It goes on for a few minutes, not showing any signs of stopping. I give in and get up, going to find the button that turned it off last time. I emerge from our room into a hallway that leads to a den, and then to the living room. Then as I get to the top of the stairs, the beeping stops. I pause, partly glad that I don't have to go down in the basement and partly trying to hear anything strange.

It's silent. I hear nothing. The machine fixed itself. I shrug and turn the lights off as I head back to the room and slept great for the rest of the night. The next morning everything seemed normal until I went to take a shower. The shower would not get hot even after running it for ten minutes.

That damn water heater again. I head downstairs into the basement. It's dimly lit but has small windows that allow enough light that you don't need the electric lights during the day. As I come up to the machine, I'm livid. I notice it's completely turned off and think. Great, now we're not going to have hot water the rest of the week. Then I noticed the wires sticking out of the back and move around it. I'm shocked.

Someone or something had ripped the wires that power the heater straight out of it, leaving loose wire hanging from the back. I dropped the cords and ran back upstairs, terrified someone might still be down there with me. My girlfriend asks what's wrong. Someone broke the water heater. We decide to call the cops and not even bother going back down. In a town this small, it's just the state cops who respond to any issues, but they take a long time to get there. We wait about 20 minutes before one cop pulls into the driveway, and we explained the whole situation with the footsteps and the broken water heater.

He takes a look at it and decides we have rats. Rats. My girlfriend and I both responded in unison. I've had rats before and know the telltale signs. Yet I had not seen any of the droppings or heard the rustling noises and the walls since we'd been in this house. The cop said he couldn't explain the footsteps we'd heard, but if we hadn't found any signs of forced entry, there wasn't much he could do. He said to call again if anything else happened and left.

My girlfriend and I were both very worried now. I tried calling my relative who owns the house, but she was on a trip overseas and I repeatedly got her voicemail. I was frightened to go to sleep that night but didn't want to just up and leave the house without her knowing. We tried our best to have a fun, normal day, but we were both so on edge. Our minds both instinctively looked for things to be scared of. At one point, I swear someone was shining something out of the woods about a hundred yards off.

There was a glinting, like someone reflecting the bright sunlight at me to get a little. my attention. I wrote it off as my imagination, yet it seemed so real. My girlfriend was also paranoid. At one point she claimed she'd seen someone in the shed outside. We both went out to check it out and couldn't find anyone. That night, we were both terrified. I felt like I could cry as the sun went down, but we agreed to stick it out for one more night. Once more we were in bed and I laid awake waiting for the inevitable sounds. I doubted it would be the water heater this time, but I expected something. My girlfriend, amazingly, stayed awake for a long time as well,

but eventually somehow fell asleep. Unbelievably, that night went by without incident. A few times I thought I heard footsteps outside the window and got up to peer out, but couldn't see anyone. On one occasion I scared away a deer that was nibbling on the leaves of the trees outside and chuckled at myself. We felt much better the following day and for a while, it seemed like our issues might have been resolved.

We did our usual thing, walking the dog and hiking near a local river. Nighttime Cayman, although I was a little nervous, I figured I could get some sleep tonight. Dusk fell and we laid in the bed again. My girlfriend fell asleep without issue as did Jenry. I laid awake until about midnight but drifted off. The next thing I remember is a strange dream where I was sitting at the dining room table of our house in Pennsylvania, and someone was knocking at the door. In the dream, I kept trying to get up and answer it, but the door was so heavy I couldn't open it.

Then I snapped into focus, acutely awake at once and realized that the knocking in my dream was footsteps coming from the second floor. Loud footsteps, like someone moving just under running speed. I was paralyzed with fear, but I moved my hand over to shake my girlfriend awake. I was amazed and relieved she didn't scream as the footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs on the far side of the house. They were loud and fast, too fast for me to consider what to do. They moved across the large living room, getting louder and louder. Jenry finally woke up and started barking. My girlfriend and I both cowered in fear in the bed, unable to move.

The footsteps reached our door and then stopped suddenly. For a moment it was quiet and I reached over to the bedside table, looking for anything to use as a weapon but found only the digital clock. Whoever was here knew we were in this room. I waited, but nothing came. Minutes passed and still nothing. I wanted to believe the imposter had left, decided we were uninteresting,

and just disappeared like it had a few nights ago. But I had to know. I got up, there wasn't a single sound in that room, as Jenry had stopped barking but stood looking at the door in anticipation. I moved closer and put a hand on a knob. As it turned it let out a noisy creak that made me cringe internally. Suddenly I flung open the door. No one was there.

I poked a head out, the clock aimed back ready to bludgeon anyone who showed themselves. I slowly exhaled and turned around, only to scream and jump when I saw the bedroom window. And it was a dark figure, a shadowy head peering in that darted down as soon as I yelled. My girlfriend, seeing it too, began to scream as well. We both ran out of the room, January following. We rushed to the front door on the far side of the house without bothering with shoes or clothes and ran for the car. Once inside I triple-checked my door was locked. I frantically started the car and backed out of the driveway. My head turned looking out the back. I heard my girlfriend, riding shotgun,

let out a shaky. Look, I stopped the car and turned my head forward. There, on the wraparound porch, someone was standing. We couldn't tell who in the darkness, but it was what appeared to be a person. We stared for a moment, horrified before it started to walk down the steps. I gasped a as I watched the figure now break into an all-out sprint toward the car. My girlfriend screamed, snapping me out of the trance I was in and I floored the car in reverse. Once on the road I threw the car in gear and drove away as quickly as possible, checking in my rear view mirror, but seeing nothing. We drove for a long time to the next sizable town, and checked into the first hotel that

allowed dogs. The next day we went back and just did a drive-by of the house. It looked to be in order, but I wouldn't dare go inside or even get to be in the other. out of the car. We've been staying at the hotel for a few days now and haven't had any problems, but we've been too scared to go hiking or do anything in town. I've been trying to get in touch with the owner to let her know. I desperately want to leave this town now, but I don't want to take Genry without my relatives' knowledge. That is where we are for now. I have no idea what to do next. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment

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