Just Creepy: Scary Stories - TERRIFYING WILDERNESS ENCOUNTERS | Scary Forest Horror Stories

Episode Date: May 3, 2024

These are 4 TERRIFYING WILDERNESS ENCOUNTERS | Scary Forest Horror Stories Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to www.justcreepy.net Timestamps: 00:00 Into 00:00:18 Story 1 00:27:54 Story 2 00:44:49 Story 3 00:55:55 Story 4 Business inquiries: ►[e-mail] #scarystories #horrorstories #skinwalker #unsolvedmysteries #deepwoods #wilderness 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀

Hey, you, feeling hungry? Run the Denny's four. The new Etonia everyday value slam. Part of Denny's slamming meal deals. And see the new Masters of the Universe movie, only in theaters June 5th. Last night, you spent two hours deciding what to wear to the party. This morning, it'll take you two minutes to list it on Deepop and make your money back. Just grab your phone, snap a few photos, and we'll take care of the rest.

The sheer dress and platform heels you'll never remember. where again, there's a birthday girl searching for them right now. Your one-end-done look is about to pay for your next night out, or at least the right home. Your style can make you cash. Start selling on Deepop, where Taste recognizes Taste. A few years ago, I decided I needed a significant life change. Everything seemed to be going downhill, my finances, my mental health, my life. I would go weeks without sleeping sometimes as heavy traffic passed through the city streets below. Every time I went outside, I saw more homeless people, more needles and crack pipes littering the ground, more muggings, assaults, overdoses, and deaths. The city had become a wasteland,

and I knew it was time to leave. I had no girlfriend, no wife, no kids. My parents had both died a few years prior, and I barely talked to. to my siblings anymore. I had nothing to tie me down to this place, where I felt like I was dying inside a little more each day. That was when I sold nearly everything I owned, got in my car, and drove up to Alaska to start anew. I bought a small cabin and a plot of land in the middle of its majestic mountains and dark, enchanting forests. In the winter, the northern lights would shine through like the eyes of God, sending out divine trails of light that danced through the sky and cosmic waves. While the move did help give me some peace

of mind, the source of all my problems had ultimately followed me a thousand miles into the endless wilderness. It would take me a long time to realize that because all the misery was inside of myself, I would never escape it. As a wise man once said, wherever I go, there I am. I lived in that cabin for three months, without any major issues, aside from the constant threat of bears, moose, and wolves. I had a rifle and a shotgun for hunting, a small garden in the backyard, and a solar panel to generate electricity. This is the life, I said, relaxing on a hammock strung across the corner of the cabin,

while staring at the endless beauty directly outside my window. White-capped mountains loomed like giants in the thick clusters of evergreens. A fresh covering of fluffy snow made their entire world glisten in the world. sparkle. There wasn't a house or road in sight, no work, no stress, no pollution, no cars honking all the time. I closed my eyes, breathing in the air. I fell asleep for a couple of hours, waking up just as the sun had started setting. Bright orange streaks mixed with bloody smears of fading light as they disappeared behind the mountains. I grogily arose, stumbling over to make a cup of instant coffee. As I sipped it, I wandered around the room looking for something to pass the

time. There were still quite a few random objects left behind by the last owner that I hadn't really gotten rid of yet. I had moved in just to find a stocked bookshelf full of classics like Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov, and Robert Heinlein. Bored, I started rifling through the collection. Looking for something good to pass the time, as I shuffled past a maze of death and Ubeak, something caught my eye, a black leather-bound book with no title or author name. Its cover faded with time and wear. Curious, I pulled it out and opened it. I saw the cursive scrolled across the pages in a neat copperplate script

and realized it was a diary left by the previous owner. The first entry was dated January 9th, 2015, and this is what it said. I don't know if I'm going crazy or not. I went into town to talk to my therapist yesterday, and she said I should try writing everything down. She talks to me like it's all in my head, but I know it's not. When I first moved into the cabin, it seemed like paradise. I never thought in a million years that something would be slinking around at night, hiding under my bed, peeking in windows, and following me like a shadow.

Right now, I'm snowed in with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pistol in the other. I can't sleep anymore, and I keep hearing something shuffling around under the bed. Sometimes I think I even hear ragged breathing, as if a corpse with dirt in its lungs had come back to life. I caught a glimpse of that thing in the darkness. Whatever it is, its skin is loose, almost falling off the bone. It looks like a naked, emaciated man. Its eyes are rotted and dark. Its back hunched.

Its spine twisted and jutting out like tumors. It moves slowly. jerkily, but I can never catch it. Its body seems broken and out of alignment. Its legs bend the wrong way. Sometimes, when I turn the lights on or try to take a video of it, it's always disappeared. But its fetid odor remains. It lingers in the cabin like a sweet-smelling, spreading infection. I don't know what it wants from me. I want to leave, but the storm raging outside is keeping me stuck here, unable to get back to town. The snow surrounds the cabin and mounds five feet high. I feel like a prisoner, caged in with a rabid beast, not knowing when it will strike.

My wife claims she hasn't seen or heard anything but keeps vanishing on me. Last night, she disappeared in the middle of a snowstorm. Where did she go? I asked her in the morning, but she said that she was there the whole time. She didn't remember anything. There's no way she went into town. There wasn't time, and the trails were impassable. Something's happening out here, but I don't know what it is. I'm petrified for our lives. I slammed the diary shut, not wanting to read anymore. I didn't want to become infected by a contagious and feverish delusion. If the last owner had gone insane in the mountains and started hallucinating naked corpses crawling around, I didn't want to know. I shoved the diary back on the bookshelf, going for a maze of death

instead. I tried to forget what I had read in the diary as I flew through the novel. All right. I tried to get the image of the naked, twisting man with the rotted eyes out of my head, but I couldn't. I eventually fell asleep right before dawn, but as my eyes were closing, I thought I saw a silhouette in the window, a starved man with excised black eyes that seemed to be rotting out of his skull. I thought I saw him, with his inhumanly long fingers pressing against the glass as he leaned forward. I blinked, sitting up and glancing out into the white snow-covered wonderland. There was nothing there. Another hunter occasionally followed the deer trails near my cabin. A frozen lake stood a quarter mile away, the surface white and covered in thick snowdrifts. Bundled up, I decided to go outside for

a hike in the frigid dawn. I strapped on my snowshoes and grabbed my shotgun, as I always did when I went outside. After all, I knew then that polar bears might be waiting around and could be around any tree. I opened the door, seeing footprints pressed into the snow around my house. At first I thought it was the silhouette that I had seen, the nightmarish thing from the diary. But the footprints didn't go over to my window. They followed the trail 20 feet away, veering off toward the frozen lake at the bottom of the hill. I glanced down in that direction, seeing a black figure slowly moving forward. Steve, I cried, recognizing my only neighbor within a four-mile radius.

He had a cabin about a mile away on his little plot. He jumped, clearly startled by my sudden noise. His black snow pants and heavy fur coat swished together as he spun, raising his rifle high. When he saw me, he immediately lowered the rifle and put a gloved hand up in a friendly greeting. Hey, Josh. surprised to see you up this early, he yelled over the muted wintry landscape. Sounds always seemed different after snowing, as if the world's noise had faded and died.

Yeah, been having some trouble sleeping, I said, slinging my gun around my shoulder. What are you doing anyway? Just a little hunting, you know, he said, giving me a wink. Animals are always more active at dusk and dawn. That's when I always have the best luck. He stepped close to me, staring me in the eyes. You do look pretty terrible. Those bags under your eyes are big enough to carry groceries in.

Yeah, trust me, I know. Hey, this might sound a little weird, but did you know the previous owner of this cabin? I asked. Steve's wrinkled old face fell into a scowl, his expression immediately becoming guarded and distant. Sure, sure, we met, he exclaimed bluntly. He searched my face for something, but I didn't know what. His reaction left me feeling off balance and nervous. Are they still around? I said.

Steve's scowl deepened. Buddy, I don't know what this is all about, but he's dead. He's been dead. He died in that cabin. He pointed a finger at my home accusingly. With those words, my heart seemed to drop into my stomach. Waves of dread flowed through my body like water. How did he die? Like a heart attack or something? I asked.

Steve's gaze turned downward, and he met my eyes. Do you know that Alaska has the highest missing persons rate in the entire United States? It's not even close. In fact, for the population size, we have far more people who go missing and are never found than anywhere else. They even have a name for it. The Alaskan triangle, Steve said, and we were square in the middle of it. I stared blankly at him, wondering where he was going with this.

No, I didn't know that. I responded. Steve nodded, raising his head again. He heaved a deep sigh. Look, the thing with the last owner and his wife is somewhat disturbing. I'll tell you if you want to know, but it will not help your peace of mind. This will make everything worse. It's not going to help you get some sleep.

You know what I mean. I want to know, I insisted instantly. The wind started to whip past us, flakes of ice and snow flying sideways in the sudden currents. Let's go back to your cabin then, Steve said, pulling his heavy fur-lined hood off and shaking his long black hair behind him. I could use a bit of whiskey to warm up. We sat down with a bottle of Johnny Walker and two shot glasses. I wasn't much of a drinker, but Steve certainly was.

He chugged three shots in a minute. I sipped at mine, drinking half and putting it on the coffee table with a thunk. Steve grunted, hissing through his open mouth for a moment. That's the good stuff. he said, slamming his chest as the burning liquor worked its way down. Steve looked up at me with a new sparkle in his eye. So, you want to know what happened to Will Lenning? Well, I'll tell you what nobody else knows, and I'll give you the whole story.

I used to see him occasionally come down, drink, and talk. Well, we knew each other around here. I nodded, motioning to him to continue on. He seemed like a regular upstanding guy, kind of reminded me of you. A young guy trying to escape the hustle and bustle of city life, the cancer of the American dream. Well, he was up here for a couple of months. I don't know. Everything seemed fine. We used to go skeet shooting occasionally and have some beer. We'd get together with a couple of other hunters who live closer to town and sometimes play some poker. I never saw anything odd about the guy.

I never could have predicted what happened to him. He heaved a long sigh at this. looking out the window at the sharp mountains with an expression of nostalgia. Well, what happened to him? I asked, encouraging him to go on. He started talking about seeing someone peeking in through his window at night. He talked about hearing sounds under his bed while lying in the dark, like diseased breathing and shuffling. He started keeping all the lights on in his cabin, 24 hours a day. Steve leaned close to me, a glimmer of fear rippling across his pale,

wrinkled face. He started to lose his mind. He started digging holes all over the place, looking for something. Even in the middle of snowstorms, I would occasionally see him outside, digging. It seemed like he never slept anymore. It was classic cabin fever if I ever saw it. It was only a few weeks later that I came over here concerned. I hadn't heard from him in a few days, which was unusual. I found the door hanging wide open, popped up in a chair, like the exact spot where you're sitting now. He lay with a blast hole showing clear through his skull, a shotgun lying next to his feet. Next to him, I found a bloodstained diary open to the middle of the page. The last entry, stained with blood spatter, but still visible. I remembered leaning down

and reading it. It was only a few sentences long. I glanced over at the bookshelf, at the same diary, saying nothing. It said, I see now what's going on. That twisted man is leading me to the truth. Today, I will finally find it. That was a suicide note, I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. He nodded. Yeah, I went into town, got some rangers to come back and check it out. Eventually they got cops in CSI there. They took all the stuff as evidence, including the diary, he said. Good riddance, I say. Reading something like that was never beneficial. Sometimes delusions spread like a virus. You know what I mean? I did, but I didn't say anything. I glanced back at the diary, its black leather cover gleaming like a crouching snake. I wondered if the police took the diary as

evidence, and if they did, how did it return here? You said he had a a wife living with him too, I asked. Yeah, she went missing around the same time, he said. It's pretty bizarre. The cops thought that maybe she just moved away. He shook his head grimly. As far as I knew, she was never seen again, and it was like she had just evaporated into thin air. After Steve left, I walked stiffly over to the bookshelf, taking down the diary. I flipped open through the pages. In the middle, I found the last entry. spatters of old dark blood were scattered over the page like raindrops. I found the suicide note and read the date, January 27, 2015.

Will Lening had not lived long after he started seeing the twisted man. I wondered if my fate would be the same. The sun had started to set outside. I sat with the diary at the small circular kitchen table, eating some stewed venison and rice while reading the entries. In the end, Will says that the twisted man had been trying to guide him somewhere, that the twisted man had been trying to protect him from the rather great evil that was lurking around here.

I scoffed, feeling a flash of anger at the stupidity of all this. His naivity led him to death, but then a flash of insight struck me like lightning. What if I was committing the same kind of stupidity? I should grab my gun and valuables and leave while I can. I could take off on the snowmobile and be in town within a few hours' time. But in my heart, I knew I would not. Something about the mystery of this beckoned me to stay, like a siren leading sailors to destruction.

I was curious and knew I would not be leaving that night. I needed answers, and sadly, I would have to find them. I had fallen asleep with an empty bottle of beer in my hand. I sat in front of the TV, which only received satellite reception. Of course, no cable or phone lines were threading their way through the forest. All of my power came from stored solar energy in a generator. Since I rarely watched TV and only really used it to cook or heat water for bathing, the energy produced was sufficient, even in winter.

I needed its sound, mindless flashing of light and colors, and canned laughter. Tonight, though, it seemed to drive away the creeping, suffocating presence like a candle. I woke suddenly, the TV flashed with static, the redacted. repetitive hissing of the white noise spit from the speakers like thousands of snakes. I glanced up at the clock, and it was 3.33 a.m. I looked around the dark cabin, confused for a long moment. I didn't understand what had woken me so abruptly. The satellite had not gone out, even with the howling winds and freezing hail of the Alaskan winter. The TV started flickering, as if the static were rising upward.

black lines traced their way horizontally across the screen. The hissing deepened into a gurgle, and for a second I thought I heard the faint words behind the white noise. I thought I heard breathing, slow and diseased, like the death gasp of a drowning man. A black line rose across the TV, and an image appeared. The cabin was suddenly silent except for the shrieking, wintry wind outside. I leaned close to the screen, confused as to what the freak I was looking. looking at. It looked like a live camera feed of a room. As I took in the details, I realized it was my cabin. I saw myself in the chair, leaning close to the screen. I raised my hand, and the miniature version of me did the same thing. Ice water seemed to drip down my spine as waves of dread

coursed through my body. What the freak is this? I whispered, looking back to where the camera should be, but there was nothing there. It was just a little. a coarse wooden ceiling in the corner. I turned back to the screen and nearly screamed. The TV showed a pale, naked man crouching directly behind my chair with jerky movements. He rose, his broken spine twisting and shivering. A hissing voice rang out from the speakers. It spoke as if it had dirt writhing with maggots in its throat. He's a killer. The shadow of death, It gurgled. Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He is watching you. Long, broken fingers with blackened nails reached out to touch my shoulders.

I jumped out of the chair, stumbling back as I spun in terror. My back smashed into the TV, and it fell to the floor, shattering in an explosion of light. In those moments before the darkness descended on me like a blanket, I thought I glimpsed a pale, sunken face with rotted blackened eyes peering out from behind the tree. I turned on every light in the cabin, but there was no sign of the twisted man in or around the cabin. I knew I had to get out of there, though. I thought about the warning that the voice had spoken. If the creature wanted to attack me, then why hadn't it just killed me while I was asleep? None of it made any sense. Who was watching me? The twisted man. And if he was, why warn me?

Perhaps it's some sort of psychological warfare, I thought to myself. Possibly, the twisted man was simply playing with me. Thoughts raced through my head at a thousand miles an hour, as I threw on snow pants and got a couple of heavy sweaters and coats on. I covered up my entire body as much as I could. I wanted to prevent frostbite at all possible. I had made up my mind to flee. There was no snowstorm tonight,

though the entire landscape was blanketed with deep fresh snow, and I knew the wind chill would be like an ice blade whipping against my skin. Traveling in the middle of the night in temperatures that might reach negative 30 degrees was hazardous. Steve had been right after all. Alaska had the highest missing persons rate of any state, and many of them were never found. Their bodies likely frozen solid in the deep snow, dozens of miles away from the nearest town.

I grabbed my shotgun, jumped on my snowmobile, and headed to Steve's cabin. I had to wait until sunrise and figure out what to do next, but fate would take the decision out of my hands. I felt like eyes were watching me as I drove along the narrow, winding deer trail. The boughs of the evergreens reached into the path like greedy hands, grabbing at my coat and legs. More than a couple of times I thought I saw a pale, naked figure standing in the snow, but it had always gone when I turned to look.

I sighed in relief when Steve's place appeared in the distance. I could see the lights twinkling through the small windows of his log cabin. I pulled up next to his door, looking down. I saw two pairs of footprints, one smaller than the others. I found it odd, but shrugged it off. The snowmobile cut out a sucking gurgle. I knocked on the door a few hard times. Steve appeared after a few moments, groggy and half-dressed.

He blinked slowly as he looked me up and down. His wrinkled face fell into a frown. Steve, I need a favor, I said quickly. Something weird is happening in my cabin. Can I stay here until morning? Until maybe I can get to town or something? I can't stay at my place tonight. I just can't.

He nodded, yawning and motioning me to come in. You can sleep on the couch, I guess, Steve said. Put that shotgun somewhere safe, though. He had a partitioned bedroom in his cabin. It was significantly larger than, my one little bedroom cabin, though it still had a joint kitchen, living room, small bed, and bathroom. He pointed to a well-worn couch in the corner and gave me an apathetic wave as he stumbled back into his bedroom, slamming the door. I couldn't sleep, though. I tiptoed around the room, looking at Steve's

bookshelf. He had a strange taste in books, lots of Ein Rand, and all kinds of weird true crime. I saw a dozen books about Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Chase, Herbert Mullen, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Richard Ramirez in the collection. A large black binder stood at the end, unlabeled, and worn-looking. It reminded me of that leather-bound diary for a second, and my heart dropped, but logically, I knew this had to just be a coincidence. Yet still, I pulled out the binder, my curiosity peaked. What I saw inside filled me with, dread and horror, countless news clippings covered the length of it. The first clipping was from nearly 20 years before, about a woman who went missing in the Alaskan forest while hiking. A later one confirmed that her body was never found, and that her family was still hoping that she might

turn up alive somewhere. A reward was offered for any information, and every page after that was more of the same, missing women, murdered prostitutes, missing men, no leads. I kept flipping through until I found clippings about Will Lening's death and the sudden disappearance of his wife. In the article about the death, Steve used a red marker to scrawl, ha-ha, next to it. I heard the click of a gun being cocked from behind me. I froze, as Steve's voice traveled across the room like a whisper. How do you like my work, my friend? he asked, his tone pleasant and mocking. I still held the binder of horrors tightly in my hands as I stared open mouth.

at this man I thought I knew. It's you. You killed Will and his wife and all the other women. Everything felt as unreal as it could, like if I was stuck in some sort of dream. Steve's grin spread across his face, but his blue eyes stayed cold and dead. Yes, well, she was cheating on him with me anyways. Just another, you know, they always get what's coming to them in the end. He hissed with hatred oozing from his voice. It's too bad I just killed another tonight. I was planning on saving you for later. The urge isn't too bad yet right now. After all, it comes in cycles, you see. It comes in waves. I saw a glimmer of pale, naked flesh writhing behind Steve with jerky movements. The twisted man came up behind him.

I said nothing, just watching, wide-eyed in horror and amazement. You need help, man, I whispered. Steve laughed. Help? The only help they give people like me is a needle in the arm. You know that. That's why it's important to cover your tracks. The twisted man ran long, broken fingers across Steve's neck. Steve gave a strangled cry and jumped. He spun around screaming. I glanced over at my shotgun next to the couch. I jumped for it, and Steve turned back to me, firing his pistol twice. The first bullets soared high above me, raining wooden splinters down on my head, but the second ripped into my leg. A cold burning pain ran like fire up my shin. I screamed in agony and battle fury as I grabbed the shotgun spinning and firing. Steve's head exploded as the slug ripped

through his brain. His forehead collapsed like a smashed melon as bone splinters and red sprayed the wall behind him. The twisted man stood there, hunched over, grinning at me. It felt weird. I started to feel more warm liquid gushing from my leg as I stared back at this thing, breathing harder. I wondered if I was dying. You weren't after me after all, I asked. You were after Steve, but the twisted man said nothing. After a long moment, he slinked back into the shadows of the bedroom and disappeared as night crawled toward morning. I thought back to the twisted man's words through the TV, suddenly understanding everything. He is the killer, the shadow of death. Many have fallen. Many lie buried across this forest. You will be next. He hadn't been trying to hurt me at all. He had been trying to warn me.

He had probably tried to warn Will Lenning and his wife, too. I wrapped my leg in gauze, gritting my teeth. The wound looked puckered and deep, but I knew I could still move my foot. The bullet had gone through clean, and luckily enough, I poured alcohol on it, screaming in pain as it burned its way through my skin. After rummaging through Steve's bathroom, I found some prescription painkillers and swallowed a handful of them with some beer. I knew I would need the opiate high to get through the pain of riding into town with a mutilated leg. As the sun finally rose, I made my way outside the blood-stained floors of the cabin to my

snowmobile. Before I left, I glanced back at the horrid place, the scene of so much torment and death. In the open doorway, the twisted man stood, his back hunched, his rotted lips grinning at me, his hand lifted into the air with jerky movements, almost like it was waving. I waved back, started the engine, and headed into town. Transport your senses with Sol de Janado's limited edition perfume mist collection. At Sephora. Sprits on lush notes of rainforest orchid and crisp sea breeze with hafresco paraizzo. Embrace of floral and fruity scent inspired by Rio's nude beach with chiqui bikini or capture sun-kissed bliss with limonada jolada where zesty Brazilian lemonade

accord meets coconut milk and golden brown sugar. Don't miss Sol de Janeiro's limited edition perfume mist collection only at Sephora. You said this place was steps from the water. We just haven't found the steps yet. How much did we save? Enough. Enough to get lost. Or you could book a stay with Hilton. Welcome to your oceanfront room.

Just steps from the water. The Hilton sale is on now. Book on Hilton.com or the Hilton app and save up to 20% to get the stay you expected. When you want savings, not surprises. It matters where you stay. Hilton for the stay. This spring, Uber Eats has you covered.

Whether you're celebrating mom, dad, or your favorite. favorite grad. Not all of us are great planners, and with the Uber Eats gift hub, you don't have to be. Send flowers, perfume, champagne, or just their favorite meal straight to their door. Gifts arrive in as little as 25 minutes, and you can add a personalized video message for that additional so-not-last-minute touch. So this spring, get a leg up on gift giving with Uber Eats. Last-minute gifts that land every time. Must be 21 or older to purchase alcohol. Product availability varies per Regency app for details. The question of who or what is capable of good has always been an age-old concept. While we have accepted that animals are indeed capable of demonstrating

empathy and performing good deeds, like a dog rescuing a child it's not familiar with from drowning, or predators choosing to spare a defenseless person or prey from certain death, what about those beings that are neither human nor animal? The irony is, the closer they seem to be human, the more we fear their cruelty. Fair enough, the idea that a story of strange and frankly creepy being, intelligent enough to speak, act and pass as human from a distance, has anything but insidious intentions, might be asking too much of our natural instincts of fight or flight. This experience had me pondering a bit deeper on who or what was capable of good. My sister and I were told this story by my mother and three of her sisters, while we prepared

for a Christmas feast a couple of years ago. My grandmother ran a very successful catering business from her young adulthood, well into her early 50s, before she finally retired. I remember seeing her and all six of her daughters preparing menus for clients. Although my mother and aunts didn't work for her, they always helped whenever they could. All her equipment and utensils used for making meals were customized and had her name engraved on them. I thought it was the coolest thing ever at the time. The conversation started when after a couple of jokes, my auntie, expression changed as she angrily ranted about how hectic her time shopping for some of the ingredients

for the latest feast was. But particularly, she spoke about how she almost had an accident, grumbling how she would have had a slightly better experience, and would have avoided the mishap if someone had just simply offered to help. She very disgustedly expressed how even that demonic man thing was more helpful than actual people, which caused a temporary pause as my sister and I immediately turned to her, looking confused but probably more creeped out. My mother scolded her for saying something that scared us. She unrepentantly retorted that it is the humans that surround us every day that we should be terrified of, not some creature we have almost no chance of ever encountering ourselves. Now my sister and I were so intrigued. Right away we began to ask her

to tell us about this demon man thing she spoke of. Our mother quickly chimed in. telling us to shut up and to get back to our tasks. But my aunt, who is the fifth of six daughters, of which my mother is the third, turned to my sister and I with a defiance which younger siblings tended to have, and said not to mind our mother. She said that she and our fourth aunt,

who was also there in the kitchen, would tell us the story. She had my sister go call her second sister to the kitchen, who was also there at the time of the events. The incident happened when my mother, her second, fourth, and fifth sister traveled to the eastern part of the country to cater a funeral ceremony of the mother of a governor of the state. As I said earlier, my grandmother had a successful catering business,

and when I said east, I don't just mean it was the east of the state we reside in. My country is extremely diverse, with at least 250 ethnic groups and about 500 languages. Each state is divided into ethnic boundaries. It's like traveling from California to Texas, but the people are completely different to the point they may as well be another race. The language, terrain, culture, food, physical features, everything is vastly different. Imagine being a tourist in your own country. Thanks to how divided each state is by language and culture,

we are from the southwestern ethnic group and are usually out of our element whenever we travel. English or Pigeon English are the only languages that allow us to properly communicate, and not everyone's going to speak it. Some will just choose not to, even if they can. Now that that's out of the way, my mother and her three sisters took with them all my grandmother's catering equipment and essentials in a big van, and traveled east because my grandmother had already retired at that point, but the client insisted she be the one to cater the event.

So she sent her daughters, whom she basically raised, in the business. I'll call my aunts A, T, and B, because their names start with those letters. They set out two days before the event because of the distance, and to give themselves time to rest and get settled before the busy occasion. T. and B said it was so dark and late when they finally entered Eastern Territory, but not quite the state they were supposed to finally arrive at, and eventually they had to take a rest stop because the driver was exhausted, and they would rather set out during daylight to continue the journey. That lonely highway had thick forests on either side. They drove for hours in hopes of finding a commercial property with a parking lot to

park at and camp for the night. Soon, they arrived at a completely run down and abandoned petrol filling station by the side of the highway. They drove into the huge open parking lot. They said they all got out to stretch their legs, have some light dinner before figuring out their sleeping arrangements. My mother spoke this time and said they were surrounded by complete darkness and the sounds of the night forest. She said she couldn't even see her hands if she raised them in front of her because they turned the van off so they didn't have any headlights to illuminate their surroundings. They had to use their personal flashlights instead. Aunt T. admits she was scared. She advised they don't sleep in the open and should instead sleep in the van as it was safer

and had comfortable seating. Everyone else disagreed. The air out was so fresh and relaxing, they could just bring out some of their comfy beds and spread them on the mats they brought for camping mid-jurney. After my mother and her sisters bickered for a while, everyone except A slept outside. All was well as they dozed off,

apart from the occasional cars driving down the road, casting bright headlights as they drove past. T. said she woke up and went for a bathroom break. And as she went back to lay down, she saw white, just stark, pristine, and bright white in the distance. It wasn't a light. Instead, it was garments. Imagine bright neon vests that airport staff wears, but white. This wasn't a vest, though. It was a long, flowing white garment. That's when she noticed the absolute silence around them.

She said all the crickets, hooting, rustles, and croaking in the... the distance had all gone silent right at the exact moment that she noticed the figure in white. Tee immediately sat up and shook her sisters awake, alerting them that someone was approaching their camp. They scrambled to get their bearings together, now sitting on the mat because they didn't want to be visible in the darkness to whoever this was coming closer. They aggressively whispered for the driver to wake up, but Tee was asleep peacefully in the van, and none the wiser.

The driver never woke up to the panic. women and made to feel the ground in the total darkness to find anything he could use as a weapon. By then, the white clothing had gotten much closer, like a couple of yards away. They still could not make out any features whatsoever because of the dark, just a really white garment getting closer and making no noise. My mother interrupted this bit of the story, saying she thought her soul had already ascended to the great beyond, just from the sheer terror which sent us all. all into a laughing fit, dissolving a bit of the tension and fear that had built up while the

story was being told. Honestly, I was grateful for the comic relief because, while I could see my mother right in front of me, I was terrified, thinking that she must have been so scared of the unknown in that moment, and could have probably lost her life. As the figure got closer, they all stood up at this point because they meant to startle whoever was approaching with their numbers, in case they thought it was just some vulnerable person parked for the night. Yet the figure didn't stop, not until it was in the parking lot and now a few meters away, still approaching without a word. This caused the driver to angrily yell to the person to state their business. The figure finally stopped, followed by silence, before they heard a very deep

male voice asking, Are you here all alone? What are you doing here? T. said she very rudely asked how the man considered them alone when they were obviously more than one person. The man just politely asked once again why they were here, and they asked how that was his business, explaining that the station was no longer running, so they simply took a rest stop. They turned his question back at him, asking how he could just walk around alone in the forest, wearing such bright clothes, seemingly without a care in the world. My mother described the following laughter from him as a deep baritone that you heard in your ears and that thumped in your belly as if you sat too close to a loudspeaker thumping with bass beats. It was a sound you didn't just hear

but felt your entire body vibrate with. The man in White simply said he was passing by and saw them out in the open, vulnerable. He didn't think it was safe for them to be out at that time alone. At this point, A chimed in the story because that was when she woke to the voices and came out of the van to this scene. She said all she saw was white, no distinguishable features. It was too dark after all, and none of them had their flashlights on. She asked her companions who the man was, but they just ignored her, practically laser-focused on this interloper. T. said she felt such dread because the man said he saw them out in the open, which didn't quite make sense, because from that distance, how could any normal person see them lying down in the

dark like that. And A, who now just joined the group, told my sister and me that the man didn't even sound like an Easterner. His accent was plain, and you couldn't tell where he was from. Since they couldn't see his face, there were no features to pinpoint his ethnic identity. She said he just patronizingly laughed at them, telling them it's not safe. Go back to sleep, I'll keep watch, as if it was a normal thing to say to a bunch of strangers whom you just disturbed in the middle of nowhere in the dark. The driver, now teed off, yelled at the man to leave them alone, asking why in the world he thought they would just go to sleep with some random creep watching them.

The man came closer now, only a few steps away, maybe three to four people spaces away for reference. He said once again that they were not safe here, but if they chose to stay, him being there would keep them safe. The driver had enough. He was going to reach for the man when T and my mother pulled him back, telling him not to touch the stranger as they had a suspicion that the man wasn't even human. They asked the man what dangers they were vulnerable to. They then heard the sound of a couple of cars driving down the highway,

casting a large glow of much appreciated light, allowing them to finally see this man. They said he had very simple yet memorable facial features. His arms were covered by the sleeves of his clothes. His eyes were dark, which is normal for brown-eyed people, and his skin was very dark. Prior to the headlights' illumination, they couldn't see anything besides his clothes. He might as well have been a floating dark mass. He wore a hat, which they didn't notice because that wasn't white, and it was kind of small.

He was quite handsome, T-noted, but here's where it becomes chilling. As the couple of cars passed by and they saw his features for the first time, the man flashed them a smile. and my mother said she recalled sucking in such a cold breath. My aunts made a shivering gesture in our very warm kitchen, recalling what they saw. Well, what did you see? My sister and I could not stand the suspense, but they all just got momentarily sucked into the memory like they were reliving it

and didn't mean to keep us in suspense. T. described his smile as unnaturally large, predatory, and downright terrifying. My mother said his teeth were insanely white. to the point they almost matched the white of his clothes. As the last bit of the headlights faded, his unnaturally wide white smile was the last thing they saw, as darkness fell again, and the glow of his whites remained seen in the now pitch black.

Imagine a white wide smile, no facial features anymore, just a wide row of teeth in the dark. The driver stepped to the front a little, telling him to leave before he resorted to physically taking him out of their sight. My mother said she got even more scared because every fiber of her being was screaming to her that this really tall, creepy man was dangerous, but she didn't exactly know why or how. Then a truck drove by. It had really huge, bright white headlights. It gave them another better glance. This time, they saw him exactly for what he was. It got a bit windy, and his clothes were

blown to the side, revealing his feet from his mid-caves. They saw really skinny, hairy legs, ended with a very thick black hoof at the bottom of those flowy clothes, not human feet at all, rather what should have belonged to a horse or a deer. This man was part animal. They realized in horror that he stood on two hooves. He didn't have four. A regular four-legged hoofed animal would either just have a pair of legs, but they just didn't know if he was part horse from his waist, or if it was just his calves to the feet. My mother said it was survival instinct that caused all of them, including the driver, to make zero indication of what they just saw as the truck zoomed past. The man smiled again in a way that almost seemed as if he knew what they saw

because he just smiled impossibly wider, tilting his head, telling them he seriously meant no harm but to help keep them safe. He said something along the lines of, I'm here so they can't come. You really shouldn't even be here, but go to sleep. You will be safe. I'll leave before you rise. By then they were too scared to ask, but wearily huddled closer, packing their sleeping mats and rushing into the van, locking the doors. T. said he just stood there, watching them, and they all watched him from what they assumed was the safety of the van. They couldn't drive out because of how exhausted and terrified they were, and despite how absolutely terrifying the thing was, it didn't seem to mean them harm, because it seemed capable enough of causing them harm if it wanted to, but instead it repeatedly said it wanted to keep them safe.

My mother said she really didn't know when they all fell asleep. The last thing she saw was that man, stranger thing, just standing there, keeping watch like he said he would. It was by no means comforting, because they all still felt immensely in danger from his presence alone, coupled with the danger he said could harm them if he left. They woke up to an empty parking lot and drove out of there with immediate effect, They said that was all they spoke about the entire journey.

They made no more rest stops the entire way either, not even on their way back. A said, as they drove past that petrol station on their way back, two days later in pitch darkness, the driver slowed down a bit so they could kind of slowly take in the place and that crazy experience. When they saw the stark white garments walk into the parking lot, they all froze. But this man just stood there, looking back at them. The driver just floored. There was no reason to wait around to find out if he was still in any helpful mood or not. T, who was in the passenger seat, said she just watched in the side mirror.

The fading figure in white still stood there, like a rooted, cursed tree. They had no idea what he possibly could have been since it didn't happen within their ethnic territories, so they didn't have any knowledge of Eastern lore or creatures. We were all just glad it was a tale they lived to tell and never really could give a good guess on why he, or it, protected them from these supposed threats that they couldn't even see. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars.

Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava Theater stage on April 30th, the powerful vocals of Demi Lovato on May 17th, and the signature Southern Country Rock of Eric Church on July 19th. Tickets on sale now at yamava Theater.com, only at Yamava Resort and Casino, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You in? Must be 21 to enter. This is a Bose moment. You've been there. Small talks going nowhere, but then the Bose speaker kicks in. Music you can feel fills the room, and no more chat with Jenny from accounts. Your life deserves music. Your music deserves Bose.

Find your perfect product at Bose.com. 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. My friend C worked at 7-Eleven for two years. I won't disclose the exact location as he's going through some personal problems, but I do have his permission to share this story. C and I have been friends since elementary school, and we tell each other everything. During his third day working, he and his co-worker G were the only ones in the store

when a customer walked in and went to the refrigerator with the sodas. He grabbed a soda and brought it up to the counter. C scanned it and told him the price. The customer replied, I don't have any money. C. told him, Sir, you'll have to put it back. The customer then got angry and threw the soda on the ground, yelling,

Can't you give it to me for free? Gee heard what was going on and came over asking, Is there a problem? The customer looked at him, and from what C said, was shocked that there was another worker in the store. He then left the store without saying anything. G asked, C nodded his head, and they went back to work.

After clocking out, C. was getting ready to walk home when he got this feeling that he should call for a ride instead. He was happy he called an Uber because, as they were pulling out of the parking lot, a person came from behind the dumpster with something shiny and metallic in their hand. A few days later, C and the same co-worker were outside on their break when a customer walked into the store. G went in to tend to the customer, only to come out a few seconds later asking, A, dude, where's the customer? C asked, what do you mean they're not in the store? The two of them went in, checking every inch of the store, even the bathroom and stockroom,

but there was no sign of the customer. When they looked at the security footage, they were dumbfounded as the cameras captured the store door opening on its own at the exact time they'd seen that customer enter, except there was no customer on the camera. They stared blankly at each other, and C. replied, I got to stop drinking so many energy drinks. By the end of the day, they were both still freaked out. C called me when he got home and told me about the story.

I said, sounds like you guys saw a ghost. No, it was just my imagination had to be, he replied. All right, I said, rolling my eyes. The next day, on his way to work, C was almost scared out of his wits as a car sped past him with a cop car chasing them. He said out loud, what on earth is wrong with people? He got to work and got through his day without incident. The next week, he was working the night shift with G again.

They were talking just to pass the time when they heard noises in the stockroom. They looked at each other, and G. said, Okay, let's go check this out. They reached the stockroom and G. said, All right man, go in, dude. C replied, I'm not going first. You're bigger than me. You go first. G. opened the door and the two of them walked in.

G. turned on the light, and a raccoon ran across the floor. Gee yelled and ran out. C walked back out to the front of the store saying, Gee, for all the time I've known you, I haven't seen you get scared of scary customers, nor the power going out, nor the dark. And you're telling me you got jump-scared by a little raccoon. Dude, it startled me, G replied. Well, that's crazy.

It's going to be a story my friends will love to hear. This next event happened over the span of two weeks. C was at work during the day when he got a text from a number he didn't recognize, and it said, How's that Dr. Pepper? He was obviously freaked out, as the only people who had his number were the ones he knew. Of course he looked around.

but he was the only one in the store at the moment. He then looked outside and saw a man standing across the road awkwardly. He waved at the guy, but the man didn't wave back. A few seconds later, the same man walked into the store, grabbing a bag of chips and placing them on the counter. C scanned them up and told the man the price. The man gave C. his money, and C. gave him his change. As the man took it, he caressed C's hand awkwardly and slowly.

C. pulled his hand back quickly, politely saying, Uh, sorry, I don't like men like that. The man under his breath said, Rude, then snatched his chips and walked out, pushing G out of the way. Over the next few hours, he kept getting texts from the same number, the creepiest of which was, Your skin is so soft I just want to wear it. C was understandably creeped out.

Soon this matter would follow him home from work. He was relaxing on a day off, when his coworker V called him, saying, Hey, C, this guy walked in and asked for you, referring to you as his boyfriend. Gave me the creeps, and I know you don't like dudes like that. C replied, Man, that's probably the same guy.

He tried hitting on me. Thanks for letting me know. Two days later, he was stalking the chips when he heard a man's voice saying, Hi, handsome. C turned around, and it was the same man. The man reached out touching C's chest. and C pushed the man back, yelling,

Don't touch me. G came running over, practically dragging the man out of the store, throwing him onto the ground and yelling, stay out of our store, you creep. G drove C home that night. Two days later, C was home on his day off when he got a call from V. Hey, C, I've got some bad news.

G was attacked at work last night. He's in the hospital. C rushed to the hospital, and when he got to G's room he asked, Dude, what happened? Man, the same guy rammed me with his bike so hard I fell and hit my head on the concrete. Luckily, one of the customers at the gas pump saw the whole thing and called 911, even wrapped my head up with his jacket to stop the bleeding.

Gee explained. My God, what's wrong with this guy? C replied. After leaving the hospital, C called his boss, asking for some mental health days after what happened, and his boss agreed. When C. arrived home, he sat in his recliner. His Boston Terrier, Lucky, jumped into his lap. Everything was quiet when all of a sudden, Lucky began to growl at the front door.

C. looked outside his window and saw someone run from his mailbox. He slowly walked out to the mailbox. There was a box of candy with writing on it that said, No one will come between us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, C. C. considered calling the cops but didn't. He later wished he had. The next week, he went to work with pepper spray and a stun gun. He called me early on in his shift, asking me if I could walk him home. I said yes. I showed up ten minutes after his shift was done with my dog Bear.

Bear is a Labrador-English Springer-Spaniel mix. He doesn't look mean, but he can get quite aggressive if needed. As we were walking to his house, Bear kept looking behind us, doing a low growl, but we would never see anything ourselves. We got to C's house and went inside. Lucky ran over to Bear, and they started to play. See and I started to talk about life, then C. asked, Hey, want to watch a movie? I said, sure, but you know me. We decided to watch a comedy movie, as we didn't want to watch a horror film due to all the stuff that was happening lately. We eventually fell asleep on the couch. Eventually, we woke up to Bear and Lucky growling. Then C. got a text. It said, she's not going to take you from me either. Before C. could say

anything, the dogs ran to his room. We then heard a loud scream. We ran and saw that Bear had his teeth dug into someone, and C. turned on the light. It was the exact same man that had been stalking him. Lucky was biting his legs. See called the cops. They came quickly. It was later discovered that the man went to high school with C and had asked C out, but C turned him down, and he tracked him down years later. See had forgotten all about that until then. The man was charged with a lot of things and was put in jail, but he passed away due to medical reasons. He felt bad and thought it was his fault. I told him, dude, some people just can't take no for an answer.

G later got out of the hospital and returned to work shortly after. Now, this last event happened during his last month working there. He was working the day shift when a customer came in and said, Young man, there are two people in a truck outside and they're a doing the deed. C sighed and walked outside knocking on the window. The man rolled the window down and C. told him, I'm sorry, you can't be doing that here. The man looked at him, threw water on him, yelled a slur, then they drove off.

C called out politely, have a nice day. C. ended up moving back home after he found out his dad was sick. We still keep in touch and he still talks to G, who now works from home. I'm glad they're both happy and safe. But recently, C called me saying, so I drive for lift now to help my mom bring in the money. She works from home during the day while I drive. While one day, I picked up this couple from a club.

The lady looked pretty scared of the dude. She had ordered the lift from her phone, so I texted her and asked, Everything all right? She replied, no, I don't know this man. C continued. So, as I was trying to figure out a way to handle it, the man slumped over in his seat. I pulled over.

got out, opened his door, checked his pulse and didn't find one. The man was dead. I called the cops, and they came with an ambulance. Of course, me and the lady gave statements, and they sent us on our way after they got the man out of the car. I let the lady sit up front. She told me the man literally followed her out of the club and hopped in the lift with her. She didn't want to say anything because she didn't want him to hurt me. As I dropped her off, she gave me a $50 tip saying, sorry you had to deal with that. After he finished his story, I told him, You see, that's why I don't use Lyft or Uber,

and I darn sure won't drive for them either. I'm glad he made it out of that situation, but that event has a happy ending, as he's now dating that girl who he picked up from the club, and she just happened to be one of G's cousins. Small world, huh? Zootopia 2 has come home to Disney Plus. Let's go!

Get ready for a new case. We're going to crack this case and prove for a decoriest partner's of all time. new friends. You are Gary Dessnake. And your last name? The snake. Dream team.

New habitats. Zootopia has a secret reptile population. You can watch the record-breaking phenomenon at home. You're clearly working it. Zootopia, too. Now available on Disney Plus rated PG. Spring just slid into your DMs. Grab that boho look for that rooftop dinner,

those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your. patio a glow-up. Springs calling. Ross, work your magic. Looking for the best place to shop this Mother's Day? Go with the brand that makes it easy to send something thoughtful to everyone on your list. 1-800flowers.com. Right now at 1-800 flowers, order one dozen roses and get another dozen free. More flowers mean more smiles, all backed by the quality, attention to detail, and trusted delivery experience that make 1-800 flowers my top choice to send something beautiful mom will love. Make Mom's Day at 1-800flowers.com slash Spotify. That's 1-800flowers.com slash Spotify.

As the twilight stretched its shadows across big cottonwood Canyon, the cliffs, stark and imposing, towered around us, glowing softly under the moon's cautious watch. Alex and I had pitched our tent on an unmarked trail, a spot cloaked by dense pines and untouched by the usual troves of hikers. We were miles away from the main road, miles away from the next human soul, perhaps. The notion usually thrilled me, the solitude, the rawness of nature. It was what I craved after weeks penned within city walls, but tonight the wilderness felt different, almost watchful. Earlier in the day, a steady rain had swept through the canyon, leaving behind a chilled silence that now hung in the air. We had spent the afternoon hiking in, side of the day, side of the

Side-stepping the muddier patches, our boots sinking occasionally into the soft, wet earth. By the time we set up camp, the rain had dwindled to a light sprinkle, the kind that you can barely feel but still hear, a whisper among the towering oaks and aspens. Perfect timing, huh? Alex had said as we unfurled our sleeping bags inside the tent. I remember chuckling, agreeing, but there was a tightness in my chest, a curl of apprehension I I couldn't quite place. We had just started a fire when the dusk began to settle in earnest. The flames flickered, casting erratic shadows against the trees, the light playing tricks with the night. We talked about nothing and everything. Work, families, the women we were trying not to

think about. It was good, easy conversation that came with years of friendship. That's when the peace shattered. From the right, a series of heavy, thudding footsteads. steps broke through the murmur of the rain. Bipeds, not four-legged critters scurrying, but something walking, running, sprinting towards us. My spine stiffened, the hairs on my neck bristling in alarm. Alex's story cut off mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he turned towards the sound. Then as quickly as it started, it stopped. But before we could even exchange a word, another set of footsteps echoed, this time from the left. The pattern was unmistakable and chilling, a deliberate, paced sprint directly towards our camp.

Mountain Lion? Alex whispered, his voice barely carrying over the soft patter of rain. Doesn't sound like it. Too heavy. And why the stops? I whispered back, every sense straining in the dark. Mountain lions moved with a stealth that didn't match the intrusive, crunching steps we'd heard. We sat there, our backs against the cool nylon of the deeps. tent, listening as the same sounds repeated from behind, then again from the other side. It was as if whatever it was knew exactly how to terrify, how to surround and confuse its prey. We decided against checking it out. Instead, we retreated into the tent, zipping up the entrance with more force than necessary. We lay there, our breaths shallow, listening to the now menacing

whispers of nature. The earlier ease between us was replaced by a tense alertness. At some point we tried to sleep, more out of a desperate need to escape our own rising panic than from any real hope of rest. But every rustle, every snap of a twig, kept us bolt upright, eyes straining in the darkness. It wasn't the wilderness I knew, not tonight. Tonight the wilderness seemed to watch us, its gaze heavy and unblinking, as if we had stumbled upon some ancient guarded secret it was not willing to share. The inside of the tent felt close, too close, as if the canvas walls were slowly tightening around us. Alex and I lay in our sleeping bags, the darkness a thick, tangible thing, broken only by the occasional flash of moonlight that slipped through the tent flaps. Neither of us spoke, but the silence was far from empty.

It was full of the rustlings of the night, the soft patters of the raindrops easing off, and something else, something that scraped gently against the nylon of our tent. That's not just the wind, Alex muttered under his breath, his voice tight with tension. I nodded, though I knew he couldn't see it. My hand instinctively went to the hunting knife by my side, its handle cold and reassuring under my grip. Just when we thought it was perhaps just a deer or some harmless creature curious about our camp, the gentle scraping intensified, morphing into a deliberate, dragging, that circled around the tent. Something was out there, moving with purpose, with a predatory

curiosity that set my heart hammering against my ribs. I reached over and squeezed Alex's shoulder, a wordless signal. We were getting out of here. Now. We couldn't stay, not with whatever was stalking us outside. We began to pack up silently, our movements quick and efficient, honed by years of camping in the wild. But tonight, every snap of a buckle, every whisper of fabric sounded deafeningly loud. With our gear hastily packed, I zipped open the tent, the cold air hitting my face like a splash of icy water. The campfire was out, the embers dying under the gentle drizzle. Moonlight bathed the clearing in a ghostly glow, casting long, dark shadows that twisted and turned with the trees. We move back to back.

I whispered to Alex, my eyes scanning the darkness. He nodded, and we stepped out, moving in sync, our senses straining for any sign of movement, any hint of danger. Our retreat to the car was a tense, nerve-racking ordeal. Every rustle in the underbrush had us pausing. Every snap twig had us gripping our weapons tighter. The forest, usually a place of peace and solitude, now felt like a maze of shadows and threats.

each tree a potential hiding spot, each shadow a potential danger. Finally, we reached the car, the sight of it under the pale moonlight, a relief so intense it was almost painful. We threw our gear into the back, slammed the doors shut, and I started the engine, the roar of it tearing through the night like a scream. As we drove away, the canyon behind us seemed to exhale, the oppressive tension easing off our shoulders with every mile we put between us and the campsite. But the relief was short-lived. What had happened back there? What had been watching us, following us with such intent? We drove in silence, the heater blasting against the chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

Alex finally broke the silence. We should tell someone, right? About what happened? I nodded, my eyes on the road. Yeah, we'll report it. But who's going to believe us? It's just another campfire story, right? except it wasn't it was real and it was terrifying and as much as i wanted to chalk it up to an overactive imagination the fear that clung to my skin was too raw too visceral to dismiss

as we left big cottonwood canyon behind the unanswered questions loomed larger darker what lurks in the wild places of the world hidden in the shadows watching waiting And what would happen if it decided to stop watching and come out into the light? Ryan Reynolds here for MintMobil. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same premium wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities. So do like I did and have one of your assistants assistants to switch you to MintMobile today. I'm told it's super easy to do at mintmobile.com slash switch. Up front payment of $45 for three-month plan equivalent to $15 per month required.

Intro rate first three months only, then full price plan options available. Taxes and fees extra. See full terms at mintmobile.com.