Just Creepy: Scary Stories - Terrifying SKINWALKER Horror Stories That Give You Nightmares | Scary Skinwalker Stories, Camping

Episode Date: July 21, 2023

These are 3 Terrifying SKINWALKER Horror Stories That Give You Nightmares | Scary Skinwalker Stories, Camping Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Anonymous ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Inadequate04/ ►https://www.reddit.com/user/Lord_Despairagus/ Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #skinwalker #cryptids #sleep #narration #reddit 💀As always thanks for watching! 💀

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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. I've always loved the outdoors. the raw, untouched wilderness that seems like a stark contrast to the bustling city life. It was probably my dad's influence, always taking me and my friends Jake and Ryan camping when we were kids.

That's where our friendship truly bloomed, among the rustling trees and beneath the star-studded sky. Jake, Ryan, and I decided it was high time for another trip, a break from our city lives. We chose the forests of Utah, a wilderness we had not yet explored, its untouched serenity. called to us. We started our preparations, our excitement building with each passing day. As the day finally arrived, we packed our gear into my old but reliable truck. I could feel a rush of exhilaration. Our phones were switched off, severing our ties to the city. We only had each other, and the wild for company. The drive was a blur of laughter, old stories, and endless stretches of road. Ryan, ever the jokester, kept us entertained with his outrageous anecdotes.

Jake, on the other hand, always a source of calmness, just smiled at our antics. Eventually we reached the entrance to the forest. I took a deep breath, taking in the sharp scent of pine and damp earth. Something was different, though. The forest was unusually quiet. It wasn't the peaceful silence we were used to, the type that's full of nature's whispers, rustling leaves, chirping birds. This silence was different, almost eerie.

Weird, isn't it? Jake said, echoing my thoughts. I looked over to see him scanning the forest, his forehead creased in concern. Yeah, I replied, struggling to place why it seemed so odd. There were no birds singing, no rustle of the wind, just a deep, profound silence that seemed to swallow all other sounds. Maybe they've all gone on a vacation, Ryan joked, breaking the momentary tension. We laughed, appreciating the humor, but something still felt off. brushing aside our unease, we shouldered our backpacks and started our journey into the wilderness. Little did we know, we were venturing into something far beyond our understanding.

I didn't let the unease dampen our spirits. The thought of a roaring campfire and old tales under the starry night kept me going. I led the way, unaware of the uncanny silence that was wrapping around us like a cold shroud, and the series of unforeseen events that were about to unfold. The excitement of the upcoming adventure was palpable in the crisp air. Our camaraderie and the call of the wild were strong, unbeknownst to the strange occurrences that were waiting for us. We set off on foot, our boots crunching on the pine needles strewn along the path.

The forest was vast and intimidating, but also strangely beautiful. It was a sea of green, with light streaming in through the canopy, creating patterns on the forest floor. But it was the silence that held us capture. a quiet so profound it felt almost tangible. Isn't it weird? I broke the silence, unable to shake the nagging feeling. I looked over at Jake and Ryan.

They looked uneasy too. What is, Ryan asked, squinting at me. His casual demeanor was beginning to falter. I paused. The silence, it's just too quiet. I gestured around at the stillness. Usually the forest would be filled with the calls of birds, the rustling of leaves,

and the almost imperceptible buzz of life. But this silence was absolute, like we had stepped into an abandoned world. Yeah, I was thinking the same thing, Jake agreed, nodding solemnly. It's almost as if the woods are holding their breath. His words sent a shiver down my spine. That's exactly what it felt like. Like the woods were waiting. For what?

I had no idea. Maybe it's just a slow day, Ryan attempted to lighten the mood, clearly uncomfortable. But his joke fell flat. We knew better. We had been camping enough times to know that this was not normal. I decided to push our concerns aside, reminding myself of why we were here. This was supposed to be an escape, a fun adventure. We needed this trip to break away from our everyday monotony, so we pushed forward.

The path was a winding serpent, leading us deeper into the forest. The air around us was still, adding to the aura of mystery. I could see the towering trees around us swaying slightly, their trunks whispering ancient secrets. The further we walked, the more the feeling of it was a little. of unease settled deep within me like an uninvited guest. A few hours passed. The silence, which we had first dismissed, now seemed to be a constant companion, shadowing our steps. It was almost deafening, filling our ears, pressing against us. Even our conversations quietened, our voices seemingly absorbed by the surrounding stillness. The silence was eerie and unsettling,

but we were determined to enjoy our trip. We made jokes trying to lighten the mood. and I could see Ryan forcing laughs, but I could also see the concern behind his eyes, mirroring my own. The beauty of the woods was a stark contrast to the unnerving quietness. Nature was, after all, a paradox. It could offer solace, and yet it could be terrifying in its solitude. This realization dawned upon us as we ventured deeper into the forest, towards the unknown.

Despite the uneasy quiet, we continued our journey, pushing forward, drawn by the promise of adventure. But the silence was a spectre that refused to leave, lurking around us, an omen of the chilling events yet to unfold. Little did we know that this was just the beginning. We decided to take a break, after what felt like a couple of hours of hiking. Ryan pulled out sandwiches from his bag, and we sat on a fallen tree log biting into our lunch, trying to ignore the unsettling quiet around us. The forest was still unnervingly silent, but we had managed to brush off the unease for the most part.

No sooner had we finished our sandwiches, Ryan got up and started exploring the area, ever the restless one. I watched him from my perch on the log, while Jake busied himself in packing up our lunch remnants. Suddenly Ryan's voice cut through the silence. Guys, come over here. He sounded excited. Jake and I shared a glance and quickly got up, heading towards where Ryan's voice had come from. We found him standing in front of a cave, partially hidden by a curtain of thick ivy. The entrance was narrow, not one of the way.

more than a couple of feet wide. It was a wonder Ryan had even noticed it. This looks interesting, Ryan said, his eyes shining with excitement. What do you think? He looked at Jake and me. I squinted into the darkness of the cave. Curiosity peaked. Let's take a look, I said, pulling out my flashlight. As we stepped into the cave, the temperature dropped noticeably. The beam of my flashlight illuminated the dark surroundings, and we walked further in. The cave walls were rough, with strange formations of stalactites and stalagmites jutting out. We moved deeper into the cave, our flashlights casting long shadows on the cave walls. Suddenly, I noticed something on the wall. It looked like, paintings. I moved closer, my heart

pounding in my chest. They were indeed paintings, and not just any paintings, but cave paintings. Guys, look at this, I called out, my voice echoing off the cave walls. Jake and Ryan came over, their flashlights pointing at the wall. The paintings were intricate, depicting what looked like deer, with exaggerated antlers. Whoa, Ryan breathed, his eyes wide with astonishment. These must be really old. Jake nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the paintings. I didn't know we had cave paintings in Utah.

This is incredible. We stared at the paintings, our worries of the silent forest temporarily forgotten. The deer seemed almost like. lifelike under our flashlight beams, their eyes seeming to follow us. We were awed by the sight. Our hearts filled with a strange mix of excitement and unease. There was a sense of the ancient and mystical about the paintings. Here we were, three friends on a camping trip, standing in front of a relic of the past. We were humbled by the artistry and the history that the paintings held, completely unaware of what else the cave had in store for us. As we ventured deeper into the cave,

our initial excitement turned into a creeping sense of dread. The discovery of the cave paintings had been fascinating, but we were far from realizing the true horror that lay deeper within this cave. We ventured further into the cave, the eerieness of the space growing with each step. The cave seemed to stretch on forever, our flashlights illuminating only small portions of the area. As we rounded a bend, I stumbled upon something that made my blood run cold. Guys, I croaked, my voice barely. above a whisper. Jake and Ryan were right behind me, and when they saw what I was pointing at,

their faces turned pale. There, in the dim light of our flashlights, was a shrine of bones. Old deer bones, to be precise, arranged in the shape of a human. The sight was absolutely terrifying, chilling us to the bone. The silence of the cave became oppressive, the air heavy with a sense of dread. We stood there for a moment, unable to tear our eyes away from the horrific sight. The earlily life-sized structure seemed to loom over us, casting an ominous shadow on the cave walls. What is that? Ryan whispered, his voice echoing around us. The bone shrine was an unexpected and chilling sight. None of us knew how to react to this unsettling discovery. I don't know, I replied, my voice shaky. The grim realization that we were possibly intruding on something sacred,

something ancient and ominous, was settling in. As we were still reeling from the discovery, a loud unnatural shrieking sound echoed from the entrance of the cave. We all froze, the sound ricocheting off the walls and drilling into our ears. Ryan quickly drew out his hunting knife, the metallic sound of it being unsheathed echoing in the unnerving silence that followed the shriek. I could see his knuckles turning white around the handle. The fear was palpable. I think we need to get out of here, Jake said, his eyes wide.

We nodded, turning around to head back towards the entrance of the cave. As we slowly navigated the narrow tunnel, the echo of that dreadful shriek still ringing in our ears, our flashlights cast ominous shadows on the walls. The once intriguing cave now seemed like a chamber of horrors. Each step we took away from the bone shrine felt like a minor victory, but our hearts were pounding with a deep-rooted fear. Once we finally saw the light of the day at the entrance, we rushed out of the cave, gasping for fresh air. But the light of day wasn't enough to erase the chilling memories of the cave. We were three grown men, seasoned campers, yet what we had stumbled upon had shaken us to our very cores. The bone shrine and the chilling shriek

had transformed our adventurous spirit into a haunted fear. We were out of the cave but had unknowingly stepped into a world that we never knew existed. Stepping out of the cave, we were greeted by the bright sunlight, which was a stark contrast to the gloom of the cave. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, but the terror we had experienced in the cave still lingered, sticking to us like a second skin. The shrill shriek still echoed in my ears. I looked around, half expecting something to leap out at us from the surrounding trees, but all we saw was a red-tailed hawk, circling overhead. It made a couple of loops in the sky before disappearing beyond the treetops. I pointed at the bird.

Could the shriek have come from that, I suggested, trying to find a logical explanation for the terrifying sound we had heard. Ryan shook his head, his grip on the hunting knife not loosening. That wasn't any bird I've ever heard before, he muttered. His gaze fixed on the spot where the hawk had disappeared. Jake seemed to agree. He had a thoughtful look on his face, and he was staring at the cave entrance. Something's not right here, he said, more to himself than to us.

We decided to get moving again. The cave experience had spooked us, but we were still determined to make the most out of this trip. We were seasoned campers, after all. We had braved storms and wild animals, and a creepy cave was not going to ruin our trip. We resumed our hike to the campsite. The trail seemed to wind on endlessly,

like a snake slithering through the undergrowth. We walked in silence, the quiet around us amplified by our encounter with the cave. Finally, we reached the camping spot. We set up our tents in silence, the usual chatter and laughter conspicuously absent. Every sound, every movement seemed to startle us. We were on edge, hyper aware of our surroundings. As night began to fall, we gathered around the fire, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows around us.

We were in the heart of the wilderness, miles away from civilization, the ominous silence of the woods wrapping around us like a blanket. We tried to lighten the mood, sharing stories of our past campers. trips when we were kids. Laughter rang out, breaking the eerie silence, but it was forced, lacking the genuine joy we usually felt. Ryan was the first to retire for the night, citing exhaustion. Jake and I stayed up a while longer, staring into the fire, but the events of the day hung over us like a dark cloud, turning what should have been a relaxing camping trip into a tense vigil. The sight of the red-tailed hawk, circling overhead, the bone shrine, the chilling shrie, the chilling shriek, they all merged into a single haunting memory. We finally decided to call it a night,

hoping that the morning would bring with it a sense of normalcy. Little did we know that the night was far from over, and the forest had more chilling surprises in store for us. I was jolted awake in the dead of night by a voice, a voice that seemed to drift from somewhere far in the distance. It was distorted, almost as if someone was playing an old recording. My heart pounded in my chest, as I strained my ears to make sense of the voice. Help me. It was a cry for help, a plea that made my blood run cold. I quickly shook Jake awake, who grogly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Jake, listen, I whispered urgently. He froze as he heard the voice. His eyes widened and he nodded, indicating that he too had heard the cry. We exchanged a look of dread and quickly got up to wake Ryan. Ryan was out of his tent in an instant, his face as pale as a sheet. Did you hear that? he asked, his voice trembling. We nodded the sound of the distant cry echoing in our ears. It seemed like the voice was coming from deep within the woods.

We decided to investigate, our hearts pounding in our chests. As we stepped out of our tents, the forest around us felt eerily quiet. There was no wind rustling through the leaves, nocturnal animals scurrying about, just that haunting cry that seemed to echo around us. We shouted back, Hey, we are over here. Where are you? Hoping that whoever was crying for help would hear us. But there was no response.

Just silence. A silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Suddenly we heard a twig snap in the opposite direction. We whirled around, flashlights sweeping over the trees, but saw nothing. Then the voice went completely silent. We stood there, our hearts thumping in our chests, flashlights casting long shadows on the ground. The voice had stopped, and we saw no sign of anyone around us.

We decided to head back to our camp. Every step we took filled with an uneasy dread. We called out a few more times, but the silence around us remained unbroken. When we reached our camp, a red-tailed hawk was perched on Ryan's tent, its eyes gleaming in the flashlight's beam. It was an eerie sight. It looked at us for a moment before flying away, its wings cutting through the silent night. We stood there, taken a moment.

aback by what we had just experienced. The bone-chilling voice, the twig snapping, the hawk, everything felt unreal, as if we were living in some kind of a horror movie. It was as if something was luring us deeper into the woods. We decided to stay together until morning, not daring to split up after what we had just experienced. We sat by the fire, our eyes darting around nervously. The excitement of the camping trip had evaporated, replaced by a sense of dread and terror. None of us slept that night. We sat huddled together, our minds racing, jumping at every small sound. The night was filled with a tense silence, broken only by our hushed whispers and the occasional crackling of the fire. We could hardly wait for dawn, not knowing what more the forest had in store for us. Morning couldn't have come sooner. The first rays of the sun pierced through the dense canopy of leaves overhead, washing over our tired faces. We had stayed awake throughout the night, clutching our weapons close, eyes darting around in fear. We sat there in silence, the heat from the dying embers of the fire barely warming us. As daylight crept in, the forest started to come alive,

but it didn't feel the same. The chirping of the birds, the rustling of the leaves, they all seemed to hold a note of menace that wasn't there before. Ryan was the first to get up. He started the camp stove and soon the aroma of coffee filled the air. But none of us felt the excitement that usually accompanied the first cup of coffee in the wilderness. We sat there, sipping our coffee in silence, the events of the previous night replaying in our heads, the chilling voice, the twigs snapping, the hawk, it was all too much to comprehend.

We should look around once more, see if we missed something in the dark, I suggested, breaking the silence. Ryan and Jake nodded, a silent agreement passing between us. We knew we had to get to the bottom of, of this. So we set out once more, this time in the broad daylight. We moved carefully, our senses heightened. As we moved deeper into the woods, something caught my eye. I called Ryan and Jake over. There, on the bark of one of the trees, was an odd symbol, freshly carved. It was unlike anything we had ever seen before. It was complex and detailed, like a language of

its own. The sight sent a shiver down my spine. We noticed five other trees around the amp site with the same symbols, each more intricate than the last. The sight spooked us. It was as if we were being warned, or worse, marked. Maybe we should leave, Jake suggested, looking visibly shaken. None of us argued. We silently nodded, the fear settling deep within us. We packed our stuff as quickly as we could, the lingering dread making us move faster. There was an urgency to our movements, an unspoken agreement that we needed to put as much distance between us in the woods as possible. It was supposed to be a trip filled with excitement and adventure. Instead, it had turned into a nightmarish experience, one that would haunt us for the

rest of our lives. As we left the campsite, I couldn't help but look back. The forest, once a haven of peace and tranquility, now stood ominous and threatening. I couldn't shake off the feeling that we were being watched, that something was lurking in the shadows, watching us leave. As we start, We started our journey back, the woods seemed more menacing than before. The eerie silence, the strange symbols, everything added to our fear. We had come in search of an adventure, but we were leaving with a terror that would stay with us forever. We walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, the excitement we had felt at the beginning of the trip a distant memory now. Our pace was brisk, the need to get away from the ominous woods driving us forward.

But as we moved on, it felt as though we were getting nowhere. The trail, which we had traversed just a day before, seemed unfamiliar. It was as if the landscape had shifted overnight. I looked around, trying to spot a familiar tree or rock, but everything seemed different, transformed by our terrifying experience. We walked for what seemed like ours. The trees towered above us, their shadows casting long dark shapes on the ground. Every rustling leaf, every creaking branch filled us with onion.

I could see the same worry reflected in Ryan's and Jake's faces. We should have reached the car by now, Jake said, his voice echoing the confusion we all felt. We were seasoned hikers, good with directions and maps, but the trail was unrecognizable. It was as if the forest was playing tricks on us, distorting our sense of time and direction. We checked our compass and maps, trying to make sense of our location, but none of it made sense. We were on the same trail, yet we saw. seemed to be making no progress. We were lost, disoriented, and the reality of our situation was setting in. The sun began to dip, casting an eerie glow over the forest. Fear gripped us as we realized

we had to spend another night in the woods. The thought of staying another night in this haunting place was terrifying. We decided to make camp too scared to move deeper into the woods. We set up a small camp, our actions mechanical and devoid of any conversation. We gathered around a fire, its warmth barely comforting us. The darkness around us seemed to grow more intense, the woods denser. Every small sound made us jump, our senses heightened with fear. We sat in a huddled group, our eyes scanning the darkness, half expecting something to jump out at us. The night wore on, the terrifying events of the previous night replaying in our minds. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the night, making our blood run cold. We jumped to our feet,

our hearts pounding. It was coming from all around us, the screams echoing off the trees, filling the air with a sense of dread. We could only huddle closer, our weapons clutched in our trembling hands. All around us the woods seemed to come alive with fear. Twigs snapped, leaves rustled, and the screams echoed, creating a terrifying symphony that shook us to our core. With our backs to the fire we kept a vigilant watch, praying for the night to end. It was a night of terror, a night that tested our courage and sanity. As we sat there, the haunting cries echoing around us, we felt the woods closing in, its darkness swallowing us whole. As dawn broke, we were a picture of fear and exhaustion. The terrifying ordeal had shaken us, and as we packed our things, ready to find our way back,

we couldn't shake off the fear that clung to us. Little did we know the forest was not done with us yet. The morning sun, usually a comforting sight after a long night, did little to ease our fears. We were exhausted, terrified, and lost in an unyielding maze of trees. Our enthusiasm had turned into a desperate desire to escape this accursed forest. We didn't talk much, each of us lost in our thoughts as we trudged along the path that never seemed to lead us anywhere. We were shaken to our core, questioning our sanity. The tormenting screams from the the night before still fresh in our minds. I could feel the heavy silence between us. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made us jump, our eyes darting towards the source of the sound. It was a

nightmare, one we couldn't wake up from. Hours seemed to stretch into days as we wandered, hopelessly trying to find our way out. The map and compass proved useless in this topsy-turvy forest that seemed to change with every step we took. It felt as though we were walking in circles. Suddenly, a glimmer of hope cut through our despair. There in the distance was a vehicle, a park ranger's vehicle. Our hearts leaped at the sight. Salvation was finally in sight. We started running, adrenaline pumping through our veins, relief washing over us. The park ranger looked surprised to see us, but quickly shifted to concern as he took in our terrified, exhausted state. We quickly explained that we had gotten lost, not mentioning the strange occurrences

that had left us in a state of terror. He nodded, listening to us as we recounted our harrowing journey. The grim expression on his face told us that we were not the first ones to get lost in these woods. He told us where we were, and a chill ran down our spines. We were several miles away from our original spot. It was as if the forest had swallowed us and spat us out elsewhere. He offered to take us back to our vehicles, and we gratefully accepted.

As we sat in the ranger's vehicle, a wave of relief washed over us. We were finally getting out of the woods, away from the nightmares it held. Our cars were exactly where we had left them, untouched and seemingly oblivious to the terror we had gone through. The ranger left us with a warning to stick to well-marked trails in the future, his tone indicating that he knew more about these woods than he let on. As we thanked him, our eyes landed on a familiar sight, sending chills down our spines. there on Ryan's car perched a red-tailed hawk. It watched us with its piercing gaze before spreading its wings and disappearing into the sky.

A shiver ran down my spine. The forest might have let us go, but the memories of what had happened would always remain with us. We promised ourselves right then and there, never to speak about what had happened, not wanting to relive the terror. As we drove away, leaving the haunting forest behind, we could only hope that the nightmare was truly over. As we left the treacherous woods behind, silence fell over us. Each lost in thoughts of the horrors we had encountered. We drove in a quiet procession, the once-familiar road seeming alien and hostile. We drove for hours, the dense forest giving way to open landscapes and the endless sky above.

We did not speak, each lost in the horrors that still clung to our minds. The silence was only broken by the sound of the car engines, a dull hum that did live, little to dispel the thick tension in the air. Back home, life resumed its normal pace, but we were changed. The carefree, adventurous spirit that had defined us was lost, replaced with a fear that lingered on the edges of our minds. We found solace in solitude, the company of others serving as a harsh reminder of our terrifying ordeal. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, but the fear remained, buried deep within us. We spoke little of our ordeal, the aground agreement to never speak about what happened in the forest a pact that bound us. Yet it was always

there, a silent presence that loomed over us. Every rustling leaf, every bird's call, sent a shiver down my spine, the memory of the forest all too fresh. I found myself avoiding the outdoors, the once comforting nature now a source of fear. I could see the same fear reflected in Ryan and Jake's eyes, the adventurous spark that had once been there replaced with a haunted look. day, months after our encounter, we gathered at our usual spot, a local bar that had been our meeting place since our high school days. As we sat there, each nursing a beer, the silence between us spoke volumes. Suddenly Jake spoke, his voice breaking the silence. We encountered a skin walker, didn't we? The words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken fear that had been

clinging to us. I looked at Ryan, his face pale but his eyes firm. Yes, he replied. I think we did. The truth of it was chilling, the confirmation of our fear a bitter pill to swallow. A skin walker, a creature of nightmares, had been a part of our reality. It was a terrifying thought, one that kept us awake at nights. We should never go camping or hiking in those woods again, I said, the words coming out in a whisper. They nodded in agreement, the decision unanimous. As we parted that night, a sense of finality hung in the air. We were survivors, bound by an experience that had left us scarred. We had faced our worst fears,

lived through a nightmare, and come out the other side. As I walked to my car, I couldn't help but glance at the night sky. There, among the endless stars, I spotted a familiar sight, a lone red-tailed hawk, its piercing eyes staring right at me. A shutter ran through me. We had escaped the forest, but the memory of the Skinwalker was a shadow that followed us, a terrifying reminder of the ordeal that we had survived. We had left the forest, but a part of us would always remain there,

lost among the treacherous trails and haunting echoes. Time is a funny thing. It has the power to heal most wounds, to dull the sharpest of pains. But some memories? They refuse to fade, linger in the shadows of your mind, ready to haunt you in your quietest moments. Our encounter with the Skinwalker was one such memory. every rustle of the leaves, every creek of the branches, they all served as harsh reminders of our nightmare in the woods.

The forest had left an indelible mark on our lives. It felt as though it was watching us, observing from a distance, reminding us of its presence in the most subtle ways. In the ensuing months, we tried to get back to our normal lives. We went back to our jobs, back to our routines. But things were never the same. The nightmare had changed us fundamentally. There was a darkness that lingered in our hearts, a fear that hid in our smiles. We saw less and less of each other.

It wasn't intentional, but every time we got together, the memories of that fateful camping trip resurfaced, darkening our moods. The Skin Walker, the screams, the bizarre symbols, the red-tailed hawk, they all became taboo topics, conversations we steered clear of. Ryan became more secluded, opting for solitude over company. He took to long drives alone, claiming they helped clear his mind. Jake found solace in books,

losing himself in the worlds they offered, away from the terror of our reality. I... I threw myself into work, using it as a distraction from the haunting images that replayed in my mind every time it was quiet. Despite the distance, there was a bond between us,

stronger than before, a bond forged in the heart of terror, hardened by the fires of our shared trauma. We were connected in a way few could understand, bound by a secret too terrifying to share. One day I found myself standing in front of the forest. I don't know what led me there, what prompted me to revisit the place of our nightmare.

But there I was, looking into the depths of the woods, a sense of dread washing over me. I felt a presence, something watching me from the shadows, a familiar dread gripping me. I turned around and left, deciding then and there to never return. That night, as I sat alone in my house, I heard it again.

The distorted voice, pleading for help, the sound chilling me to the bone. I looked out the window, half expecting to see a horrifying figure lurking in the shadows. Instead, I saw a red-tailed hawk, its piercing gaze locked on to mine. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I closed the blinds trying to shake off the terror gripping my heart. The forest might have been miles away, but it felt closer than ever, the echoes of the nightmare still reverberating in my mind. as I sat there lost in my thoughts, one thing was clear. The ordeal was far from over. We might

have escaped the forest, but the memory of the Skinwalker, the unspoken horrors, they had become a part of our lives, silent specters that haunted us at every turn. Time passed, months turned into years, but our memories of the Skinwalker and the haunting Utah woods remained as vivid as ever. The echoes of that distorted voice, the chilling shrieks, the sight of the bone shrine, all lived on in the depths of our minds. Our lives had moved on in their own peculiar ways. Ryan left the state, moving towards the bustling cities on the east coast, trying to drown his fears in the sea of humanity. Jake buried himself deeper into his books, finding solace in the fantasy worlds far removed from our terrifying reality. I stayed, anchored by my job and

family, trying to reconcile the mundane reality of my existence with the ghost of the nightmare that hung over me. The silence between us was heavy with unspoken words, shared nightmares, and an unbreakable bond. We never talked about the forest or the skinwalker, a pact we kept faithfully. One day, while cleaning out an old box, I stumbled upon an old map. It was the map we had used for our faded camping trip. The sight of it brought a lump to my throat. I traced. I traced to the the trail we had taken, my finger stopping at the location where we had set up our camp. The memories came rushing back, sending a chill down my spine. In a way, that camping trip was a turning point in our lives, marking the end of our carefree youth, and thrusting us

into a reality far scarier than we could have ever imagined. The forest had left its mark on us, changing us forever. We were not just campers or hikers anymore. We were survivors. As I continued my life, working my job, tending to my family. A part of me was always back in those woods, eternally alert, listening for the rustle of leaves, watching for the flash of the red-tailed hawk. I was not alone in this feeling. One day, a letter arrived. It was from Ryan. He didn't say much, but he didn't have to. Between the lines I could feel the fear, the haunting memories, and the shared nightmare. I still see the hawk, he wrote. Jake's call came a few days later. later, his voice a whisper on the line. I heard it again, Will, the voice. I never told them

about the map, or how I sometimes still woke up in the middle of the night, my heart pounding, sweat dotting my forehead, the chilling memory of the Skinwalker's shriek still ringing in my ears. Some things are better left unsaid. Our lives had diverged, but the shared trauma of that camping trip had forever intertwined our fates. We had stared into the face of the unknown, confronted our darkest fears, and though we had escaped the physical confines of the woods, the echoes of that trip still haunted us. As I looked out the window, I saw a red-tailed hawk soaring in the sky. A shiver coursed through me. A part of us would always be back in those woods, forever marked by the terror we had faced. But we were here, we were alive, and we were survivors, and for now,

that had to be enough. 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 stopped killing it.

It's rare for the keys. And it leads on who they might have been running for. The cartel killed my family. I'm going to kill them. All of them. MIA. Streaming now. Only on Peacock.

First, let me start by providing some backstory to the area. My name is Devin. And I have lived in Arizona for a total. of only about two years, and in that time, I have found myself enamored by the myths and legends surrounding the area. Arizona is no stranger to the mysterious, and I often found myself passing the nights away reading stories of the Navajo Skinwalkers, the Mogollon Monster, El Chupacabra, and even some accounts of La La La Lerona. Me and my group of buddies loved Arizona, and often found ourselves taking week-long camping trips up to Snowflake, Payson, or Heber. Throughout all of those

trips we had never seen or experienced anything too out of the ordinary. The only notable occurrence we had ever encountered were some strange noises that could be heard at night around the campsites, but that was usually chalked up to nerves from being so far away from the city, or a prank pulled by one of the other guys. We would regularly gather around the fire and tell stories of the various cryptids and legends around the area, looking to creep each other out as we had a drink in order to add a sense of excitement to our usual trips. We had never expected to witness any strange events ourselves. This trip, the outing where it all happened, started just like the rest.

Just four months ago, one September morning, our little ragtag group of six, Luke, Bobby, John, Derek, Jack, and myself, worked to gather the necessary supplies for our next adventure. Luke and Bobby were in charge of general supplies, gathering tents, flashlights, and the like. They grabbed three two-person tents, a few lanterns to set around the area, as well as some handheld flashlights, some extra supplies that we would need to start a fire and cook food, and loaded the truck bed with some extra wood pallets to break down for the fire. John was on food duty and arranged a plethora of canned and freeze-dried food, water bottles, and the most important camping staple, supplies for smores. We had put Derek and Jack on a beer run, and packed up a few

cases of Coors, a pack of Corona, some selters, and even a small Dosequis keg that one of them had grabbed because it looked cool. While everyone else was gathering supplies, I made arrangements and got any permits we would need. This time, we were heading to the Sandtan Mountain Regional Park, which stood only about eight miles away from where we lived, which was a small trip compared to our usual outings. The area was just south of the town of Queen Creek, where most of us lived, and a ways east from the Indian Reservation. The park was a very popular camping spot, and was usually booked out for most of the year, and was quite hard to get an official reservation. Instead of going the traditional route, we decided it would be best to delve further into the

territory than the set-up camping grounds, as we wouldn't have to deal with other campers, and could party through the night without disturbing others. That afternoon, we loaded up the truck to carry all of our supplies and piled in to be on our way. We each brought with us a rifle, as it would be our method of defense. We did not bring them expecting to have to use them, but it had just become a common practice to be prepared for the worst, so they usually just sat in the truck nearby or in the tents bagged up. After our trucks were loaded up, we drove the relatively short distance to the grounds and delved deep into the territory until we found a suitable spot. The entire park was covered in brush, cacti, and rocky cliffs, which was a change from the

usual forests we camped out in. We decided on a spot that was bordered by some small rock formations, and had already been somewhat cleared of large brush. When we stepped out of the trucks, it was obvious that the spot had been used before, as there sat a circle of rocks that was obviously for a fire, and the site was littered with abandoned camping supplies. There was trash and empty beer bottles strewn about, and even a tent that lay flat on the ground. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the tent was torn to shreds, and covered with what looked like large marks made by claws. We thought that this was strange, but just chalked it up to a wild animal nesting in it at one point, or some crazy campers riding a high and freaking out. Who would just

leave all of this out here, I said, bewildered at the lack of consideration from the previous campers. Some people, Derek said back generally, shaking his head side to side. We grabbed some bags from the truck and proceeded to clean up the site a bit before we began to set up our tents, a process that only took about an hour. Around this time the sun had begun to set, so we began breaking down a pallet and setting up a fire. That night was uneventful and was just a small dinner of canned stews and a few beers afterward before we settled down to bed. Our three tents were split between John and Derek, Luke and Jack, and finally Bobby and myself. We were already pretty tired from our earlier preparations and found

ourselves dozing off pretty quickly. Sometime in the early morning, it couldn't have been earlier than 3 a.m. I suddenly woke up in a cold sweat. I sat up in my sleeping bag and looked around to see Bobby passed out to my right. I was still groggy, but I could just barely hear the sound of footsteps from nearby my tent over Bobby's snores. I would usually just pass it off as someone getting up to take a piss, but something about the sound of the steps unsettled me. There was no rhythm or reason to them like a normal human's footsteps would. It was like something large was limping or just learning how to walk. That is when I noticed the smell. It smelled like a mixture of rotting meat and mildew, like what wet clothes smell like when they have sat in a pile for a few days. It was overpowering.

I could barely even think. My eyes began to water, and I think I even gagged a few times. I unzipped my tent and stepped outside quickly to throw up. I emptied the contents of my stomach on the rocks a couple of feet away from the tent and proceeded to dry heave for the next minute or two. The smell had gotten worse when I exited the tent, and as I sat there trying to pass this feeling of dread that had begun to build up in the pit of my stomach, I felt as if I was being watched from somewhere behind me. I whipped around frantically and looked past the other two tents,

fumbling for my little battery-powered flashlight in my pocket, quickly clicking it on, and pointing in the direction I felt I was being watched from and saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. I shined the light left and right, scanning the open clearing and the nearby cliffs, and just as quickly as it had come, the horrendous stench which had plagued the campsite quickly subsided. I clicked my flashlight back off and sat down on a big rock next to my tent, and tried for the next few minutes to slow my breathing and calm my nerves.

After what must have been 30 minutes, I had calmed down just a little, and crawled back into my tent, and finally dozed off again. That morning, I proceeded to tell the group what I had experienced that night, and was quickly met with laughter by the others. It's unusual to see you so freaked out by nothing, Devon, Jack said to me jokingly. If you get scared at night, Devin, you can crawl into my tent and cuddle with me, Derek said with a grin. Very funny, I said back.

Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink last night? Bobby, my tentmate, asked as he finally crawled out from the tent, putting his hands in the air in a stretch and letting out a yawn. I thought about it. Could that smell and feeling really have been a fallacy created by my drunk mind? It had felt so real, and there is no way I could mistake that smell. Even now, hours later, I still felt my stomach rumble when I thought. thought of it, not to mention the footsteps. I don't know, I finally said, trying to move on.

The day went by without any occurrence, and I forgot about the events of last night and just tried to have fun. That night we all sat around the campfire again, drinking a beer and telling scary stories, just a normal night. Sometime later, John was telling a story, and Derek stood up to walk away. Where are you going? I called out to him. I just got to take a leak, he called back as he faded into the darkness of the night. John continued telling his story, and about five minutes into it, we heard the yelling and running footsteps of Derek, as he basically tumbled into one of the tents. We leapt to our feet and quickly asked him what was wrong, running over to where he had fallen. He pointed a finger back to where he had just come from, and began to babble nonsense,

and that's when I noticed he was shaking uncontrollably. Luke knelt down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Calm down, buddy. Tell me what you saw, he said soothingly, trying to get him to calm down. There's something out there, Derek cried. It looked like some kind of person or something, but it was messed up, and it smelled so really bad. We proceeded to look around at each other. Derek was usually the most level-headed out of all of us, widely considered as the mother of the group, and he rarely ever drank or got drunk. So we took it seriously when he told us what he saw, but we had not entirely pieced it together yet. What could it be, Luke said to the group.

I'm not sure. Maybe some kind of wild animal, John said back. I think we should pull out the guns just to be safe, I said. Good idea, Luke agreed. We honestly should have realized then that it was time to leave, but we were stubborn. We thought that we were invincible, that nothing could happen to us, and that anything strange could be explained rationally. Sure we like to tell stories of mysterious creatures and occurrences, but those were just that. Stories, right?

We each pulled out our hunting rifles and sat back around the fire once again, trying to stay calm in light of what just happened. That's when we started to hear the sounds. It sounded like screaming all around us. It sounded like it was coming from one source, but it was coming from multiple places and directions, like whatever was making the noise was traveling around us impossibly fast. John pointed out that it sounded like Derek's scream. I realized that he was right. It sounded exactly like how Derek had yelled earlier when he ran back to camp.

Like his scream had been recorded and was played over a speaker over and over again. It sounded artificial, like an animal was trying to mimic a human scream. That's when I noticed the smell. That ungodly stench had returned, and this time, everyone else could smell it. We were all standing up at this point, backs pointed towards the fire, aiming our rifles out into the darkness, trying our best to cover our noses to block out that mind-numbing stench. Then suddenly the sounds just stopped, and the smell subsided. We had a hard time falling asleep that night, yet despite what we had just experienced, we weren't quite ready to leave

yet. To this day, I'll never know why we didn't just leave. Later in the night, I was once again awoken suddenly, only to realize that smell had returned. At this point I was done. I was tired of being afraid of whatever was out here in the wilderness, just outside of my home. I grabbed my rifle that was sitting next to my sleeping bag, quietly unzipped the tent, and poked my head out to see what was outside. What I saw will haunt me for the rest of my life. Standing upright, just past the dying embers of the campfire, hunched over one of the tents, was an abomination of which I had no name for.

It was tall, at least seven feet tall, and was covered head to toe in sickly pecky pale skin that seemed to almost reflect in the moonlight. In different spots, its body seemed to be almost rotting, with different patches of skin hanging loosely off of its body and limbs. As I took a closer look at it, I noticed its gangly arms held down by its sides were different lengths. One arm was longer than the other, and not just slightly, but by a few inches. Its arms were skinny and bony, seemed impossibly long, and had joints turning in all the wrong areas. At the end of its hands, had what looked to be long finger-like claws. I was not able to get a good look at its face yet, as it was turned away from me, standing over one of the tents across from me. I felt this rising

sense of indescribable dread as I watched it. I thought of all the possibilities in my head, thinking back to the torn-up tent that we had noticed when we first arrived. I imagined that at any moment this creature could rip through the tent and my friends with its claws before they could even react. With a burst of adrenaline, I opened my tent the rest of the way slowly, walk quietly outside, and aim my rifle at the head of this creature. Just before I'm about to shoot this thing, I hear Bobby's fearful yell behind me. What the hell is that? He yells. The creature in front of me whips around at an impossible speed. That's when I saw its face for the first time. It had deep hollow sockets where its eyes were and its eyes glowed a menacing

yellow. Its mouth stood agape with a fear-inducing set of jagged sharp teeth, and it led out a mind-numbing screech that sounded like a mix of a high-pitched screech and a low growl. I tried to shoot it, but I either missed, or the bullet did no damage to it as it pounced on top of me, knocking me down and dug its claws into the sides of my torso. I screamed in pain, feeling the creature's claws digging into my skin, looking into the eyes of this thing on top of me, smelling its rancid breath, almost causing me to pass out. At this point, everyone else had already woken up, and the other five men jumped out of their tents in a flurry, aiming their rifles at this thing and unloading into it, trying their best not to hit me in the process. The barrage of gunfire must have at least

injured it because it recoiled in some kind of pain and got off me, releasing me from its clawed death grip, and stumbled a few yards away. At that moment, Derek and Luke grabbed me as John, Jack and Bobby reloaded and continue to fire in the direction it stumbled off into. I winced with pain as Derek and Luke lift me up. That dreadful screech fills our ears once again as we book it to the trucks. We pile in quickly, leaving behind all of our tents and supplies, and start to speed away. This thing must have been chasing us, because that scream seemed to follow us. How is it this fast? We're going like 80 miles an hour, said Bobby in the driver's seat as he pressed the pedal to the floor, trying his best to maneuver the pitch-black landscape to get back to the trails.

I, I don't know, Derek was stammering as he began to put pressure on the deep wounds on my side as I groaned in pain. The road was bumpy, and it felt like we were being pushed and pulled in different directions as we drove. The sound of the creature's shrieks and creaking metal filled our ears. Eventually we couldn't hear the sounds of the creature anymore, but we never once slowed down, speeding past the checkpoint to enter the park, and speeding through the lit town streets. I must have passed out along the way because the next thing I remember is waking up two days later in a hospital bed. Apparently, after I was stable, my friends went to the police and the park rangers, telling them what we had experienced. They left out some of the more

unbelievable details but recounted details of the creature, the sound it made, and the smell. The authorities seemed skeptical at first, but were more inclined to believe that something was out there after seeing the state that I was in and seeing the damage done to the trucks. What I had not yet seen or noticed was that the trucks were covered in large deep claw marks on the sides, and the back bumper was torn off. That's when I realized that we had just barely escaped with our lives. What was this thing? How could it be fast enough to chase a high-speed truck? How could it have the strength to rip through a metal frame like paper. Why didn't bullets seem to hurt it? I was filled with so many questions that I did not particularly want the answers to. When I was finally released

from the hospital and reunited with my friends, we never spoke about the events that happened on that trip. I don't even know why I am typing this out. Maybe just to get it off my chest so I can finally move on, but I must warn everyone reading this. Be careful when camping deep in the sand tan mountains. 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 points. Never fly during a Scorpio full moon. Just tell the manager you'll sue. Instant room upgrade.

Stop taking bad travel advice. Start comparing hundreds of sites with kayak and get your trip right. Kayak, got that right. Christmas has never been my favorite holiday. Yeah, I love free time. stuff, but it feels like the amount of money I spend always outvalues the gifts I get. Other than that, I just don't prefer to hang around a large part of my family, especially for large gatherings. A large part of my family sees our gatherings as a perfect excuse to get blackout

drunk and talk angrily at each other over politics and all other manner of controversial topics. My family's Christmas gathering five years ago was no different. I'd flown down to my grandmother's house in southern Florida, as the plan was for everyone to meet there and get their fill of food and liquor before finding their way home. I only stayed at my grandma's house for an hour or so the previous year, so my mom asked that I stay longer this time. According to her, everyone loved seeing me, although I'd debate they were too busy arguing what current trend was ruining the world. I ended up staying until about 10 before asking my mom if she could give me a ride back to my hotel since I'd ubered there originally.

She told me that she wanted to stay for a couple more hours and suggested I tried taking the bus to save money instead of ordering another Uber. Honestly, anything to get me out of that house would have come off as a good idea. I remembered seeing the bus stop on my way to my grandmas, and the walk to it didn't seem like it would be too far, so off I went.

At the time, it seemed like a perfectly good idea. I didn't know the bus schedule or how long they even ran, but I was willing to take my chances. While walking back to my dorm in the middle of December would cause me to freeze my ass off. Luckily, winter in Florida rarely drops below 70 degrees. It was honestly a relaxing walk, taking in the nighttime air and quiet.

I'd started daydreaming about my class schedule next semester before I realized I could make out the bus stop about 30 feet in front of me. I swore under my breath as I realized someone was sitting there. As much as I hated being around my job, drunken family, I hated awkward stranger small talk even more. The closer I got, the easier it was to make out the person sitting there. She appeared to be a kindly lady in her mid to late 60s. Her hair was a large ball of silver and dark brown, with a large pair of thick-rimmed glasses

on her face. I have to admit it took me a good while to make out anything other than the bright pink coat she was wearing. For me, 70 degrees was shorts and t-shirt weather, but I suppose it wasn't unheard of to see an older person wearing a sweater anywhere that wasn't 90 degrees. I got within a couple steps of the bus stop bench, before the lady turned to acknowledge me. She gave me a very warm hello and happy holidays that I returned, along with an awkward smile. I tried not to stare, but what I thought was a pink sweater was actually a thick pink fur and feather coat. I'd honestly never seen anything like it. A majority of the coat was made of pink fur, but the collar sprouted enough feathers to cover five or six birds. Dangling from her neck was a long pearl necklace,

with some sort of elongated bird skull in the middle of it. In my head I wondered if she was into exotic fashion, or perhaps a huge bird lover. The sound of her loudly blowing her nose made me jump and shook me from my own thoughts. How is your evening, sweetheart? Her voice was dry, but friendly, with an accent I couldn't quite place. I told her it was fine and returned the question, to which she launched into a wordy recollection of her entire day. I zoned out somewhere around her getting to the middle of her day and kept eye contact while randomly nodding. Where is your family now? Surprised by the sudden change of topic, I responded by jokingly telling her that they were at my grandmother's house drunkenly singing Christmas carols. She laughed and muttered something about

how charming that was. I checked my phone and saw only a couple of minutes had passed and didn't hear or see any signs that a bus was coming anytime soon. I remember my eyes starting to feel really heavy. I shook my head trying to wake myself up, but the feeling stayed. Excuse me? Have you seen my bird? I looked at the lady again and she had a look of panic and confusion on her face. Honestly, I probably did too. My bird was in his cage, but now he's gone. I looked on the ground, and a large old-fashioned bird cage sat between the woman's legs. How long had it been there? I was pretty sure I hadn't noticed a big iron birdcage before. It was hard to remember or even think because the tiredness I'd started feeling morphed into a slight feeling of vertigo. It felt like the

ground around me had begun to slowly spin. Ah, I see him. There's my darling. The lady was on her feet now, pointing across the street. Her voice sounded raspier, as if at some point in the last two minutes she had turned into a chain smoker. I followed her finger and saw she was pointing at something standing in the tall grass across the street. I couldn't make out what the figure was, but I was positive it wasn't human. It had wide, blocky shoulders and a long, wiry neck, attached to a large circular head. The area of tall grass the figure stood in was covered in shadow, so I couldn't make out any other details. Through the shadow, I could swear the figure was staring directly at us. Could you please go grab him, sweetheart? The lady's voice seemed to be coming from inside my own head,

and without even realizing it, I felt myself moving toward the figure covered in shadow. As I got closer to the thing, it shifted so that its entire body was facing me. It twitched and shook as if electricity was coursing through it. The closer I got, the faster my heart would beat. The more some kind of instinct inside me screamed that I was making a bad decision. But I couldn't stop myself. It was almost as if I had developed an obsession with reaching whatever this thing was. I was halfway across the street, and a sudden shift in the moonlight illuminated the creature enough

that I got a look at something that could only have been born from a nightmare. It spread its arms like it was stretching a pair of wings. Its skin was a pale blue and stretched tight over its thin frame. Long, stringy pink feathers sprouted from all over its body. Its long, snake-like neck waved and slithered through the air, and a head that resembled a pink human skull never broke eye contact with me. its tiny eyes that glowed a bright purple. I couldn't stop myself from walking forward.

I couldn't break my focus away from the glowing purple eyes of whatever things stood in the grass in front of me. Its neck stretched outward towards me, shortening the distance until we were face to face. The loud and long blare of a bus's horn caused me to trip and fall backwards. The horn split me from whatever trance I was in, and I looked around to see the bus stopped and waiting behind me at the bus stop. I hadn't heard it pull up. I didn't even know how long it had been there. I twisted myself around and didn't see the old lady in the pink feather coat. Remembering the creature, I turned and was met by a tall man standing just outside the tall grass. He wore tattered clothing covered by a hood adorned in writings and pink feathers. Several large bird skulls hung from a thick rope necklace and several straps across his chest. I'd slowly started backing away before the man lunged at me, a curved, knife in one hand. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted to the bus, struggling not to trip. The driver looked at me with confusion and worry on her face, asking several questions,

did I take something and, did I know that man, were among the first. I stuttered and rambled, spitting out a bunch of random words. Eventually she simply waved me to the back. I was the only one on the entire bus, still no sign of the old lady. The bus dropped me a block or so from my hotel, and thankfully I made it to my room without any more incidents. I don't think I'll ever forget the look of that thing standing in the grass. Something that haunts me as much as that creature is the fact that three people in that area disappeared that night. I always wonder if maybe those three people weren't so lucky as to break that creature's gaze.

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