Lighthouse Horror Podcast - This Is What Park Rangers In The Smoky Mountains Won't Tell You | Scary Stories

Episode Date: April 8, 2024

There's something in the woods...   Story from Horror_writer_1717 Make sure to check out more of their work at Michael Kelso  Cover Art from Yuri Hill Original YouTube link: This Is What Park Rangers In The Smoky Mountains Won't Tell You           For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Sound Effects: Freesound Zapsplat Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech  Darren Curtis Music - YouTube Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

I used to be a park ranger in the Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. It wasn't a bad job. The scenery was amazing. I love to drive up to Klingman's Dome Overlook and watch the sunrise. Anytime there was a thunderstorm, I headed for that overlook. One of the best things about the job is the autonomy. Being left alone to do whatever needs done is great. But it doesn't come without a downside.

This park is massive. It's over half a million acres and 11 million people visit every year. I found out the hard way why the park closes at night. If you've never driven through the Great Smokies on a cloudy, moonless night, you've never experienced true soul-crushing darkness. You know those extremely bright LED lights that so many trucks have on the front of their grill that blind you when they drive toward you. Yeah, our trucks don't have those.

We have regular lights, the old dull yellow lights. The ones that make you wonder if your battery's going dead, or if you'd be better off to shine a flashlight ahead of you, because you might see more that way. The AM radio in the Ranger truck spews out static-filled country garbage. It'd be easy to just turn it off, but sometimes I feel like it's my only company on the endless black ribbon of road that runs through this sea of darkness. One thing this job gives you is plenty of time to think, and sometimes that's not a good thing. I slam on my brakes to avoid hitting a deer. It glances at me,

and then continues to strut across the road in no hurry at all. You're welcome, I say from my window. The deer doesn't even pause. I swear the animals around here think they own the place, I think with a chuckle. Just to make my life more interesting, it starts to snow. In normal places, that's not much of a problem. In this mountain of pitch black, it could become a problem real quick. It usually doesn't snow here, but when it does, there's a call for concern. Most times it's a freak occurrence and comes fast and heavy.

This time is no exception. Within minutes, the road is covered. already low visibility has been reduced to nearly zero. And of course it starts when I'm furthest away from the station right in the middle of nowhere. I slow to a crawl, knowing it's going to take me forever to get back, but at least I'll get there in one piece instead of sliding off a mountain to my fiery, gory death, I hope. I turn on my windshield wipers in a futile attempt to keep visibility. They work almost as good as the radio.

The defrosster and the wipers fight a losing battle against the onslaught of snow. I would just pull over and wait it out, but out here, I don't want to end up buried in snow for days waiting for someone to come plow me out. Each station has one snow plow, and I don't remember the last time it was used. Suddenly, I look out at the front of the truck and remember that I'm driving the only truck that has the mount for the plow. Translation, I need to get back because no one's coming. coming to get me. As that cheery thought rattles through my head, I come to a turn that I see

just in time and have to wrench the wheel hard to the right to stay on the road. My tires and the deepening snow disagree on which way the truck is going, and I end up sliding towards the edge. I jump on the brakes in a panic, causing them to join the direction argument. In the end, momentum wins. I slide closer to the rail that I know won't keep me. from diving hundreds of feet to my death. I'd love to say that my life flashed in front of me, but all I could see was that damn snow. I'm going to die surrounded by irritatingly blinding white, with nothing else to do. I close my eyes and pray.

Time slows as I try to bargain with my maker, the usual stuff. I'll be better. I'll give to the church. I'll become a priest. A missionary, whatever you freaking want, as long as you save my life. I feel a heavy thump. This is it, I think. I'm going over the edge.

As a last ditch desperate thought, I opened my door and throw myself out into the road. I land hard, like a belly flopper on asphalt. The wind escapes my chest and refuses to come back. I lay there, rocking back and forth in the cold white, road, hoping that by some bizarre twist of fate, someone else doesn't come along and run me over. Seconds turned in minutes, as I lay there watching the snow in its relentless downpour, waiting for my breath to return. Eventually I'm able to come around and painfully rise to my feet.

The truck sits idling as if nothing has happened. I reach in and put it in park, feeling embarrassed and stupid for having gotten myself in such a I grab my flashlight and go to the front of the truck to see what the damage is. I'm surprised to find the front bumper sitting four feet from the rail. I know I hit something. I say to myself, examining the rail and finding it undamaged. I turn the light to my bumper and find it bent in slightly at the end. My light flashes back and forth between the undamaged guard rail and the damaged bumper.

What the hell? As my brain wraps around this puzzle, another piece falls into place. I see patches of hair on the bumper and red in the snow. As I pursue the matter, I see the imprint of a large animal laying in the snow in front of my truck. I pull out my phone and take a picture. The impression it made is massive. Great.

I hit a bear, I say sarcastically. I sigh as I see the trail of red heading off into the trees beside the road. Guess I have to go check on it. I return to the truck, grab my coat and the keys, then head after the quarry. The red is becoming difficult to track through the deepening snow. The tracks themselves seem odd. They're too close together. It's almost as if the bear is walking on the tree.

its hind legs. But why would it do that? Did I hurt its front paw or something? I approached the edge of the woods, still following the red tracks. I don't want to go too far into the woods. I'm hoping I can catch a quick glimpse of the bear alive and well, licking a paw, but otherwise okay. Trekking through the dark woods in a snowstorm isn't part of the plan to keep me alive long enough to retire. As I follow the tracks, I noticed. I noticed that I noticed that the dark woods in a snowstorm, I noticed something else about them. They don't look like a bear's tracks. In fact, I'd say the closest thing would be dogs' tracks, but they're way too big to be a dog. Even a St. Bernard wouldn't make tracks this big. I step into the woods, not intending to go far and flash the

light around. The tracks continue going slightly uphill. Nope, I say, not tonight. I turned to head back to the truck when I hear a low guttural growl. I slowly turn back and see red eyes staring at me from behind a tree. I shine the light in that direction and see the tracks lead right up to the tree that hides all but the eyes of this creature. It's massive. The eyes must be eight feet off the ground. I've never seen anything like this, and I still haven't seen it. Just the eyes. In my terrified stupor, I do the least likely thing possible.

I pull out my phone and take a picture. The flash makes it blink, but also appears to make it angry. It starts toward me. I would love to say that I was calm, cool, and collected as I returned to my vehicle and was on about my merry way. That didn't happen. I scream and turn to run, but my boots are slippery. and I fall, nearly hitting my head on a rock. As I start to gain traction and speed, I hear heavy

footsteps behind me. There's no need for me to turn and look. I know it's coming after me. I know I'm not going to make it. And I do the only thing I don't want to do. I glance back. A massive mound of fur is galloping toward me. Its red eyes glowing with malice. It's coming so fast, it'll overtake me when I try to go around the truck. My panicked mind runs through a myriad of options. From just give up, to turn and command it to stop, to throw the flashlight, hoping it will fetch it and give you time to get inside. The moment of truth arrives.

I'm almost to the truck, but I can feel its hot breath breathing down my neck. I'll never make it around the corner. I try to think back to all those dinosaur movies I've seen. and how they escaped. My mind reminds me that many of them ended up as a dino snack before the film was done. I sarcastically thank my brain for the happy thought and choose the one tactic from the movies that seem to be successful. I slide under the truck. I'm barely on the ground until I hear a loud bang and the truck lurches to the side. A massive snout shoves itself as far under the truck as it can and sniffs. I try to ease my way out from under the truck, but the

snout disappears and reappears on the driver's side. This time there's also claws pawing at me, trying to get a hold of me. I shimmy away from them, only to have them show up on the other side. Back and forth we go like a demented seesaw. Front, back sides. Wherever I go, it's right there trying to grab me after an eternity of this game. It tries something new. The pause disappear and I feel the truck springs compress. It's climbed on top of the truck. Shit, now it can see me no matter where I try to go.

I test my theory by shining the flashlight towards the back of the truck. It instantly appears and tries to shove its snout under, snapping at me. I push further towards the front. It returns to its vanguard on the top of the truck. For what seems like in eternity, I lay as still as possible, trying not to move, barely breathing, hoping it will lose interest in me and return to the woods. My waiting game comes to an end when I realize the snow is almost up to the level of the frame of the truck.

I'm going to lose visibility soon. I know I need to do something. I come up with a desperate and stupid plan. I shine my light at the back of the truck, causing the creature to jump down and claw at me. At the same time, I dig some snow away from the front of the truck to regain visibility. Then I do the same in reverse. I shine the light out the front and dig at the back.

Next, I execute the most desperate and stupid part of my plan. I threw the lit flashlight towards the front of the front of the front of the next. of the truck. It bounces near the guardrail, and for a moment looks like it's going to hit it and bounce back. I freeze and fear as it takes one more bounce, then disappears over the side. The creature leaps down, but doesn't shove its snout under the truck. It jumps the guardrail and disappears. I gasp in astonishment that my plan actually worked. I lay there in Marvel. Then my mind kicks my ass. What the hell are you still laying here for? Get in the truck! I jump up, hitting my head on the underside of the truck, then roll out on the driver's side and

yank at the door. Of course it's locked. I fumble with the keys, just like I've seen in every horror movie. I used to wonder how those people could suddenly forget how to use a key. Now I know. After a few failed attempts, I finally managed to open the door and I throw myself inside. I started up and I slam it into reverse, then hit the gas and nearly do a full 360 as the tires fight for traction in the foot of snow. I take a deep breath and compose myself before giving it a little gas, just enough to get moving and get myself back on the road. This leads to my next problem.

The road is gone. All that remains is a blanket of white. Sweat forms on my brow as I start down the road, steering by measuring the distance of the trees to the blank spot that used to be a road. I crawl my way down the mountain this way, slowing to a near stop anytime there's a curve. Unfortunately, it's the smoky mountains. It's all curves. An hour later, and it seems like I'm no closer to the station. However, a minor miracle happens.

The snow stops. I'm so ecstatic I'm nearly jumping in my seat. I might even make it home alive. I glance in my rearview mirror, and those hopes are dashed. In the distance, I see those red eyes, and they're getting closer. My veins turned to ice as I press. down on the accelerator. After sliding through a turn, barely remaining in control of the vehicle, I realize I can't outrun it. I slow, but only a little. On the few straight spots in the road,

I speed up, but then have to slow way down when I get to a curve. The straight stretches are the only time I can afford a glance in the mirror. Each time I do, the eyes are still there, And they're a little closer. I inch my way to the station, clinging to the desperate hope that I could make it there before this thing catches and devours me. I look at my odometer and realize I'm only five miles from the station. It might as well be a million. I sigh as I glance back and see those eyes have gotten larger.

There's a sharp turn coming up. I know I have to slow down for it. I know this thing will catch me when I'm a little bit. I do. I also know there's a steep drop-off at this turn. I'm stuck. No matter what I do, this is going to end badly. I do what has to be done. I slow down enough to keep from sliding off the edge, and when I straighten out, I glance back, and the eyes are gone. Could it have slipped off the edge? My hopes rise then suddenly plummet, as I see those red eyes. beside me. The monster is now running beside the truck. It slams into the door, making a huge

dent. It slams again, and the window shatters. Its snout dives in and snaps at me. I duck onto the passenger seat as the snarling snapping jaws of death inch closer. I do the only thing I can think of. I slam on the brakes. The unprepared monster goes flying forward as I slide to a stop. It shakes itself and stands, growling at may and bearing its teeth. I jump on the gas pedal to get as much speed as possible and run it over. The truck leaps in the air as the tires pass over the massive monster. I don't slow down until I have to. After I make it through the curve, I look back and I don't see the glowing eyes. I hazard a glance out the window and I see nothing but snow. I can't trust the quiet. I'm so paranoid, I'm shaking. At this

point I think I'd rather see the blasted beast just to know where it is rather than this suspense. After a few minutes and many more glances back, I finally give myself permission to relax. I'm only a mile away from the station. I can't believe I made it. And then the truck explodes from the impact. I feel like I've been hit by a bulldozer. I wrestle with a steering wheel as I'm hit again. The truck is going faster even though I'm standing on the brakes. I look back and see the monster. It's pushing me. I look forward and I see the guardrail crumple underneath my front bumper. The truck slides over the edge. It's not the steepest ravine in the park, but it doesn't need to be. The truck.

The truck falls end over end, then takes a turn and starts rolling. And all that's happened, I never took the time to fasten my seatbelt. I'm thrown around like a rag doll. By some miracle, I stay inside the truck the whole way to the bottom. I don't know how long I was unconscious, but I wake to heavy footsteps and snarling. I'm laying sideways under what's left of the back seat. The truck is on its roof and I'm laying in a puddle of glass and blood. The monster's snout comes through the shattered window, and it leers at me with its red eyes.

I try to crawl away, but my leg is bent at an unnatural angle, probably broken. Pain shoots through me as I try to use my arm to push away. In the end, I realize there's no escape, no fight left in me. I lay there and wait for the inevitable. It sniffs at me. Drule drips from its mouth as I'm assaulted by its putrid breath. This is it, I think. I close my eyes and wait.

Nothing happens. I open my eyes and it's gone. I painfully turn to see if it's playing some game, but I can't find it. What the hell happened to? to you, says one of my fellow rangers as he sticks his face in the open window. How? Well, looks like you're about the luckiest son of a bitch I've ever seen. You must have rolled off the road up there and landed on this road down here, a few more feet and you would have been headed for another tumble. I lay there, waiting for something else to happen.

This is a dream, I think. I'm dreaming being rescued while. All that monster is chewing me to pieces. Let's get you to a hospital. The ranger says, I wake up in a hospital bed. My right arm and left leg are each in a cast. It hurts to breathe. I'm pretty sure there are some broken ribs.

The door opens and the other ranger steps inside. I see they got you all fixed up. He chuckles. What did happen to you out there? Fall asleep at the wheel? I think about what I should tell him. I wonder how much he would believe. Then I remember.

Phone, I say. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. I shake my head painfully. No, no, my phone. He searches through the bag that has my clothes in it and pulls out my phone with several cracks on the screen. Pictures, I manage. He opens the screen and navigates to the pictures. He looks at the last one I took.

Well, ain't that something, he says. I'm so glad he sees it. I can tell my story and have the proof for all of them to see. He turns the phone towards me. All I can see in the picture is white. The flash was on and the snow was. wiped out the image of the monster. He scrolls back to the other picture of the imprint of the creature, but it's also washed

out by the flash and the snow. I'm devastated. I know what I saw. I know it's real. Isn't it? I turn away. I'll let you get some rest, he says, then walks out the door. I'm not crazy.

I saw it. A month later, and I'm feeling a lot better, my arm, leg, and ribs are on the mend. I filled out my accident report, and I didn't mention anything about a creature. The crash was caused by me slipping on a snowy road. I wish I could say that I've improved mentally. That I don't have nightmares. That I don't look out the window every night and see glowing red eyes staring. back at me from the woods.

But I can't say that. It would be a lie. I know it's hunted me down. And I know it's waiting for me.