Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Heard My Son Screaming in the Woods

Episode Date: June 19, 2026

A father and son camping trip turns into a nightmare when something in the woods starts calling from the dark. But the deeper Terry runs, the clearer it becomes that the monster chasing him may not be the one he should fear most. Stop drinking stale, store-bought coffee! Check out ⁠⁠NoSleepCoffee.com⁠⁠ to get 20% off fresh, same-day roasted coffee delivered straight to your door. Just use promo code NOSLEEP20 at checkout for 20% off your first order! Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at ⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠. Shopify: Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at shopify.com/dns. Author:  Jake Bible Check out Jake's latest collection of stories, They All Bleed: Ten NoSleep Stories, Volume Two https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G96H432Y  * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This episode is sponsored by Better Help. Summer can be amazing, but it can also be a lot. For some people, it's vacations, sunshine, and adventure. For others, it's juggling schedules, family plans, work, travel, and that pressure to enjoy every second of it. I think a lot of us end up just trying to survive the summer instead of actually enjoying it. That's why it's important to build in time for yourself,

especially when life feels busy. Therapy can help you better understand what you need, set healthier boundaries and create a version of summer that actually feels good. BetterHelp is the world's largest online therapy platform, with over 30,000 therapists and over 6 million people served globally. Their therapists are fully licensed in the U.S., and they help match you based on your needs and preferences. You don't have to say yes to everything this summer. Find support in therapy. Sign up and get 10% off at betterhelp.com slash DNS. That's BetterHelP. dot com slash d ns if you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi classified experiments and things humanity was never meant to understand

check out my other podcast the sCP experience each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the sCP foundation where dangerous anomalies are studied contained and sometimes unleashed these aren't just scary stories they're classified nightmares click here to listen now or search for the sCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Keep running. That's all you have to do, Terry. Just keep running. Don't stop. Do not. Dad! Adam! Adam! Adam! I skid to a stop. Find needles and leaves slipping under the soles of my shoes, nearly sending me falling on my ass. Dad! Adam! Over here! I'm over here! I hear crashing through the bushes. Oh God. Is that Adam? Or is it that thing? Oh, Christ, I can't just be standing here.

It's pitch dark in this damn forest. The thing could be anywhere. Anywhere. Jesus, what was that? Over there. What was it? I swear something moved. Dad, where are you?

Right here. Listen for my voice. I'm over here. He doesn't reply. More crashing in the bushes. What am I doing? Staying still is a bad idea. But, Adam, I can't leave my son behind.

Yeah, well, think on that damn. Barry, think on that. You already left your son behind when you ran from the campsite, didn't you? It all happened so fast. And you ran screaming, you damn coward. Dad! He's closer. Adam! This way! I moved to my left and instantly get a face full of rhododendron branches. A couple snapped back and slapped me across the cheek after I shove them away. I battled through the branches, tearing off a handful at a time in order to thin out the barrier between myself and my son. Once past the rhododendron, I stumble into a thick patch of cedars. I can tell by the aroma what they are.

Then I'm pushing through a small stand of young pines. Sap clings to my flannel shirt, tugging at me, pulling me this way and that. Dad! Adam! He's off to the right now. I skirt the pines and try to look for movement in the darkness. But who am I kidding? It's the darkest night that I've ever lived through. No stars or moon above the canopy of pines and oaks and hickory.

I can barely see my hand in front of my face. Except, wait, I can sort of see my hand in front of my face. Is that light? Is there light coming from somewhere? Maybe it's a cabin. Maybe a ranger station. Oh, God, let it be a ranger station. I shoved through brambles and undergrowth.

All of it trying its heart is to hold me back, to keep me in place. My flannel tears at the shoulder as a thorn from a young locust tree snags my shirt. Dad, help, Dad! Shit! Where did that come? from? Not to the right anymore. It came from behind me? Can that be possible? No. I had turned around. I had turned back to face the way I came. Adam should be in that direction, not behind me. Adam, hold tight! Hold tight! I scream and whirl around, my fists up, even though I've never

punched anything in my life. I've never been in a fight. I haven't been in a shouting match except with my sisters when we were kids. Or have I? I hit someone, I know I did, hit them hard, too hard. Who's there? Who are you? I spin back around, it sounded so close. Something brushes my cheek, and I scream and run. I run and run and run. Dad!

His voice is fainter, and I am so sorry, so, so sorry. My lungs feel like I've swallowed fire. With each intake of breath, searing pain fills my chest. My sides hurt, not one, but both. Not one, but both. Cramps are rippling through me like waves of agony. My left leg hitches, but I can't stop. I can't stop.

What have I done? I left Adam behind. I left him there with that, that, that thing, I think. It whispered to me. It tried to touch me. No, no, it did touch me. I felt its clammy fingers on my cheek, how they traced from my cheekbone down to my jawline.

Oh, God, Adam. My right foot catches a root, and I'm weightless. for half a second before I face plant in the dirt. It's so dark out that I don't see the ground coming up to meet my face. My nose explodes with pain, and I instantly taste blood. Stars burst into view, which makes them the brightest things in these woods. No, wait, not true. There's still that little bit of light.

I think it's up ahead. It's just around those trees. No, those aren't trees. Boulders? Are they boulders? I don't remember there being rocks like that in these woods. But that light is for sure coming from around the other side, or in that direction at least. The source could be far off, yet bright enough to reach me here.

A boulder moves. I stumble to a stop and throw myself behind a thick pine. There's a creaking noise overlapped with a heavy grinding sound. The ground under my feet vibrates as something, something very big, starts walking my way. I take a long, silent breath and hold it. The ground continues to vibrate. I can feel each footfall clearly. Thud, thud, thud, thud.

It pauses. I can smell a rank animal stench, like a dead dog covered in crap and left in the rain, but never getting clean, no matter how hard the drops beat at it. A stench of mold and rot layered with piss, blood, and other bodily fluids. A last thud, and I can feel the heat from the thing. But this isn't that thing, not the one that thing. not the one that chased me from our campsite. That one was smaller, human-sized.

A dirty shadow at the edge of the firelight, red eyes and a raspy voice. Its stench was more ethereal. Like a dream set out in the sun too long, its insides bursting out in rancid streams of thought. I shake my head and close my eyes as the new thing pauses close by. All I want to do is scream for it to go away. I want to leap from my hiding place and pummel it with my fists, my horrible, horrible fists.

Dad! The new thing takes off fast. I'm almost knocked off my feet by the massive footfalls as it shoves pines aside and stomps on azaleas. Dad! I hear trees snapping like twigs and a low groaning noise. It's like a quiet howl swallowed hole. Adam.

It's headed for Adam. Of course it is. Where else did I think it was going? I have to help my son. I have to save him now from two things. Two creatures of this darkness. Two denizens of this forest. Pushing away from the pine.

I start to run. I start to, at least. But my eye catches the glow of that far-off light. It calls to me like a beacon, a distant lighthouse guiding me towards shore. But Adam, I fight my urge to head straight for the light and turn back in the direction I think Adam is calling from. So hard to tell, so hard to tell. Oh God, I'm tired. Dad! Why am I waiting? Why am I hesitating? Adam needs me. I fight the pull of the light and run to my son. I'm coming at him. I'm coming. The new thing, the big one, has gone quiet. I can't hear the footfalls or feel the vibrations. No more snapping trees. The silence is infinitely more terrifying. Shoving that terror aside, I keep moving. My straining eyes looking for the next branch or rock or whatever there could be in my path to trip me up

and send me sprawling in the dirt. A snap of a twig, a thwack of a branch. I'll be a thwack of a branch. I look to my left, praying I see nothing. My prayer is not answered. A shadow, man-sized. The first thing is pacing me, running with me about 20 yards off to my side. I don't need light to see it. It is the absence of light that shows me where it is. Like it's a black hole running around trees, staying parallel with me. The nothing there gives it away immediately. Go away! Whatever you are, go away! It doesn't. It keeps pace the entire time, which means I'm leading it to Adam. I can't do that. Up ahead, a tree cracks and falls. It's death echoing through the woods. Wind kicks up, and I smell the big thing stench. It's coming from everywhere. I'm wrapped in a

cocoon of putrid air, trapped with the stink that makes me want to vomit. Starting a business always sounds exciting until you realize how many little things you suddenly have to figure out. We've experienced that firsthand with no-sleep coffee. Getting the idea was the fun part, but then came building the website, making it look professional, adding products, organizing everything, and making sure people could actually buy without a headache. That's where Shopify made things so much easier. With Shopify, designing the No Sleep Coffee website was simple and efficient. We were able to build a store that matched the brand, easily add new coffee products, and keep the important parts of the business all in one place. Shopify has hundreds of

ready-to-use templates, helpful AI tools for things like product descriptions and page headlines, and everything from inventory to payments to built-in analytics. It's time to turn those what-ifs into with Shopify today. Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at Shopify.com slash DNS. Go to Shopify.com slash DNS. At Shopify.com slash DNS. I scream that at the smaller thing, letting it destroy. from the overpowering odor. That's a mistake. Something huge and damp and solid slams into me.

I'm lifted off my feet and sent flying. My flight only stopped because my back impacts with the pine, nearly bending me in half. I fall to the ground hard. My already battered face protected by my outstretched arms. I feel the snap as it happens and my left wrist becomes pure fire, an inferno of agony. I roll over and manage to scoot myself up against the pine, pressing my back to the tree as I cradle my broken wrist against my chest. Thud! Thud! I freeze. I try not to even breathe.

The new thing, the big one, is so close that if I were to take in a breath, I'd be overwhelmed by the rankness of it all. I'd choke on the loamy decay. I'd drown in its fetid damp. Blood is streaming down my face, warm and fast, but I ignore it. There's nothing I can do right now, not with this beast close by. There's a guttural snort. and thick, rasping breaths.

Then the thudding of footsteps as it clumps away from me. Hot breath blows against my head from the other side of the tree. It didn't clump away! I get up as fast as I can, crying out as the bones in my wrist grind and dig inside my flesh with every movement I make. Even as I use my other hand to try to pin it to my chest and keep it immobile, the pain still stabs at me, refusing to be quiet. A tree snaps.

Two trees. Three! The big thing is right on my tail. I still feel its breath on my neck. I'm no longer holding mine, but I wish I were. Every lungful is like sucking in roadkill. My chest is filled with it. I fear that death is seeping into my very soul via my cardiopulmonary system,

that the oxygen in my blood is now replaced with rotten air. Dad! Adam! I hear you! I'm on my... My feet are no longer on the ground. I'm running in the open air. Then I'm falling, dropping fast. I hit the ground and scream as my wrist bounces off. several rocks, I roll and tumble and slam into a large oak. The breath is knocked out of me,

and I struggle to take in air for several seconds. Then I gasp and scramble around to the other side of the oak. I hear thumping coming from above, then it stops. With a herculean effort, I inch my head around to try to get a glimpse of the big thing, but all I see is a massive silhouette about 30 yards up the incline I just fell down. The silhouette shifts on huge feet, snorts loudly, then lumbers away. Bringing my head back around, I sit up against the oak, resting my back against the thick bark, while I assess the damage the fall did to me.

Reaching up with my good hand, I cautiously check for troubling wounds. There's a gash at the top of my forehead, large enough that I have to press some skin back into place. Other than that, and my brutalized nose, my head and face are unharmed, relatively unharmed, that is. Keeping my wrist still, I push with my legs and inch my back up the tree trunk until I'm standing.

The air around me does not stink of rot and decay, so I take in several deep sips, tasting the cleanness like it's my first drink of water after being lost in a vast desert for weeks. I think I hear Adam, but I can't quite tell. From what little I can make out, I'm down in a ravine. It's wide like a riverbed, but all dried up. Rising a few cautious steps, I push off and stumble away from the tree. I look up one way, then down the other. I'm completely turned around.

I need to shout for Adam, but that will bring all the things after me. So I remain quiet and pick a direction. To the left, I'll go left and follow the empty riverbed for as far as I can while listening for signs of Adam. Something cracks and breaks far above me, but it doesn't sound close. I trudged through the darkness, my eyes cast down, hunting for the rock or fallen tree branch that wants to trip me up and bring me to my knees. Things, small things, skitter at the edges of the ravine. Mice or squirrels or nocturnal birds, maybe.

I don't know. I ignore the noises and keep moving. Okay, okay, I'm going in the right direction. He's got to be this way. I know it. Step by step, I make my way up the ravine. My pulse is throbbing so much that all I can feel is pain radiating from my broken wrist. and up my arm in a rhythmic, relentless manner. Making it worse, the underbrush at the bottom of the ravine is getting denser.

Branches from wild rose bushes and clumps of blackberry slap at me, grabbing my torn flannel, adding insult to injury by scraping and scratching my already marred face. Forced to let go of my broken wrist and hold my good arm out to fend off the thorny attack, I grit my teeth and suck air through my nose to slow my pained breathing. I should take my torn flannel off and use it as a sling. But I don't dare stop walking. I have to keep moving. I have to get to Adam.

Lost. So lost. I scream and whirl around, tangling myself in rows and blackberry vines. The green tentacles wrap about me, holding me by my clothes. A few blackberry thorns dig deep into my forearm, and I wince as I yank them free.

The thing is close by. Its raspy whispers were right there. But I see nothing, sense nothing. Dad! Up ahead, My son can't be more than a football field's length of the way. I struggle. I get myself free of the hundreds of blood-letting thorns and continue up the ravine.

Another tree snaps, but from far off, I barely notice it. No way out! I gasp and cringe, ducking my head for some reason, as if the thing is swatting at me. But all it is is a voice. I don't even see the shadows I twist my head this way and that, hunting for the thing. A roar from far off. the tree snaps. Too late. A hiss and a rattle. Then something is slithering away. A snake. Just a snake. Away pressing down. Just stop. I run as fast as I can. He's just ahead. I know it. I can make it.

I can get to him in time. A pain flashes through my head. In time for what? I pushed the thought away. In time to save my son, that's what? What else could there be? That thing. The big one might be far away, but it's so huge, it could come running back in an instant, destroying everything in its path to get at my son. I need to find Adam before that happens. Monsters everywhere! There's a dry, rasping laugh. Still no shadow, though, only the outlines of bushes and small trees on each side of me,

on each side. But what about behind me? I dig deep and find some energy reserves, throwing all of my strength into my legs to keep them moving toward Adam. and hopefully, away from the smaller, shadowy thing. The first one I saw. Images of a campfire fill my vision. It's like I'm right there again, sitting on a log, holding a stick with a burning

marshmallow on it. Adam is laughing at me, pointing at the flames I try to put out as I blow over and over on the end of the stick. A crack, a pain, a shout, a scream! The images dissipate, leaving me blinking into the gloom in front of me, like I just turned off a television in a dark room. What the hell was that? Barely avoiding colliding with the pine tree, I swerved to the left.

My foot slips on loose gravel, but I managed to stay upright for a change. Something crashes through the trees above the ravine. Is it the big thing? Has it come back? Is it pacing me along the top of the ravine? Waiting for me to scramble up there? Which side is it on? You are...

...gasped and whimper. That time, the voice was right up by my ear. I don't dare look. I don't dare. Dad! You aren't! My son's voice is carried away by a sudden gust of wind. Brambles wave in front of me, and I swat at them with my good arm. My wrist throbs, a deep and constant rhythm.

At least the bones have stopped grinding together. Snorting up a wad of bloody mucus, I spit and continue running. The big thing keeps pace, but doesn't drop down into the ravine. I can feel the shadow on my heels, almost riding along with me as I flee or search or hunt or whatever it is I'm trying to do. What am I trying to do? I need to get out of these woods. I need to find my son.

I need to figure it all out. Those are three different goals. I have to choose a focus, choose a direction. Too rate. I flail behind me with my good arm, hoping to knock the thing away. My arm meets air, then meets the small trunk of a pine.

I can already feel the deep bruise forming on the side of my hand. Nothing broken, though. Eating. Shut up! Dead! Oh God, it's all too much, everything. The things, the woods, the darkness, the campsite, Adam, fire, marshmallows, life, money, work, the car, her, the yelling, the punch, gone.

Never coming back, gone. Left me, left us. Nothing for us now. Nothing for us now. Nothing for... I grip my hair with my good hand and pull as I scream my confusion and pain into the night. The thing up above roars and more trees break. The thing behind me.

Almost climbing my back, hisses and laughs. Adam stays quiet. I can't hear him. Where is he? Where is my son? Where am I running to? Why am I running? Always running.

Always running! Dad! There! I had! I know it! I put on as much speed as I can. But the ravine tries to slow me down. It begins to narrow.

The trees get bigger, blocking my way. The vines and brambles and thorns seem to fly out from nowhere, animated for the sole purpose of tripping me up, holding the same. me back, keeping me from getting to my son. Best forgotten! Oh God! Did the voice come from above me? Is it flying, floating, hovering over me as I run and run and run? Then I see it.

A light! It can't be the same light. That one was far behind me, way back there. Right? Wasn't it? Yes, it was. I know it was. I know it. The foliage continues to encroach on the ravine, choking it to death. I can no longer run, and I have to sort of hop and skip and turn and slide and shove through it all. A tree looms in front of me, and I dodge to the right.

But another tree is there, and I almost wedge myself as I squeeze past. They lean in, the trees. They move with me, block my way. I bump against an oak. I bounce off a walnut. A pine rears up, screeching like a banshee. No, not a pine. The thing!

The shadow! I'm forced to stop and stare at its silhouette. The light source is behind it, giving me an outline to study. No! I cringe at the sound of its voice. There's a depth of pain there I do not care for. I can hear regret and loss. And all I can think about is her being gone, and the stress of it all,

and how I never signed up for any of this, and it's completely unfair and... Weakness fails you! Without thinking, I throw a punch with my good hand. The shadow withdraws, easily dodging my blow. that it's gone. I blink. I look about. No sign of it.

It isn't wrong. Weakness does fill me, and I have to fight the urge to fall to my ass and just sit down right here on this spot, never to get up again. All of my strength leaves me. It becomes impossible to even hold my broken wrist up. So I let that arm fall to my side and dangle,

which is excruciating. The bones grind again, but I don't seem to care. Adam. Dad? What? That wasn't a shout. That wasn't a scream or cry for help.

That was my son talking, just talking. The light in front of me intensifies, and I have to shield my eyes. Some small bit of energy, a reserve I didn't know I had, wells inside me, and I get moving again. It's slow going, one foot, then the other. It's barely a shuffle. It's like a long, slow stumble. Dad, you okay? I'm fine, son.

I'm fine. Why am I talking? Who am I talking to? The light almost burns as I get closer. Don't worry. Worry? Why would I say that? The kid isn't stupid. There are things out there. He should definitely worry. He should, he should... Run! Adam, run! He doesn't run. I know this, because I have reached the light.

The trees part for me, and I step into a campsite. Our campsite. The one I set up just this morning after we hiked into the light. the forest for a full two hours. But that's back the other way. It shouldn't be right here in front of me. I must be turned around. All turned around. The scream breezes in my throat as the shadow thing eases up next to me. Its presence is empty, a corrupted shell of something nasty, but it has weight. I can feel it leaning on my arm, pressing against my bad wrist. The pain is horrible. The pain is clarifying. See now. I don't know what you... I can't finish the sentence.

That scream that had frozen in my throat threatens to escape as I watch a man sit down in front of the campfire. The man is me. No, no, no, no. All your nose are wrong. A teenage boy moves into the light and sits down next to the man who cannot be me.

It's impossible. But of course, it has to be me. Because the boy is... Adam. My son glances over his shoulder in my direction. Then he shrugs and looks toward the fire. The other me, the impossible me, speaks. How about we make s'mores?

Adam nods. His hair has gotten long, and his bangs bob up and down. I reach out to brush them out of his eyes, but he jerks away. Teenagers. No, hold on. I didn't do any of that. The other me, the impossible me. The Impossible Me does it.

But it's also familiar. It might as well be me. Neither the Impossible Me nor my son turns to look at me when I speak. I don't like that. I don't like being ignored. I step forward. All right. I'll get the gear.

Impossible Me stands up and walks to the food box over by the tent. He fishes about, then returns with a bag of marshmallows and a pack of mini chocolate bars. You forgot the gram? Crackers. Rage wells inside me. No, no, not me. Rage wells inside the other me. The impossible me. How do I know that? Well, if you'd help me pack, maybe I wouldn't have forgotten them. My tone is sharp and cruel. Adam shrugs like it's no big deal, but I can see the tension in him building. I sit down and pick up a stick, impaling a marshmallow on the tip before handing it

to Adam. He takes it, but doesn't look at me. Pretty sure that thank you is what you say. Thank you. Oh, he doesn't mean it. I know that tone in his voice. He doesn't mean that thank you at all. At least try to put some effort into it. I knew it.

Impossible Me heard that tone too. The kid really needs to learn better respect for his parents. Or parent, singular, since it's just me now. Just me. Not her. Not her. Sorry. He clears his throat.

Thank you, Dad. There we go. That wasn't too hard, was it? Adam shrugs again, and I want to yell at my impossible self to slap that shrug out of him. A couple of good wax upside the head should do, Always you.

I gasp and stand very still. What was that thought? What was I thinking of doing? Impossible Me sticks a marshmallow on the stick and places the sugary pillow over the open flames. It begins to brown, then goes straight. to black as it bursts into flame.

Adam laughs. Impossible Me whips his head around and glars at the boy. Okay. Let's see you do it, smart ass. Wait, I didn't say that. I didn't. This didn't happen. None of it.

We had a good time with the marshmallows. A good time. Right? I wasn't. I didn't mean... He shakes his head. Sorry. Sorry.

Sorry. Sorry. So sorry. God. Just like you're... useless mother. Something in me breaks, like a small dam opening up to let a flood of emotions and thoughts and memories and, oh God, what did I do? Don't you talk about her? How dare you say that to me? That rage again, full and bright, almost brighter than the campfire. I whacked a kid across the

cheek with my roasting stick. I can see the welt rise immediately. You got something to say, huh? Go ahead, say it. Be a goddamn man and say it. Adam doesn't move for a few seconds. Impossible Me lets him sit there. It gives more time for all that rage to keep on building. It fills Impossible Me like hot piss, filling a broken urinal. The other me, the one by the fire, grips Adam by the back of his neck. Let go of him!

My shout reaches deaf ears. Impossible Me leans down and gets in the boy's face. Go on! Say it! A tree is shouted somewhere. A howl fills the forest. Adam jerks out of Impossible Me's grip and stands up. You killed her! My blood goes cold.

How did he? How could he know? Trees shatter everywhere. Everything moves like it's on fast forward. The slap I give him, how he launches off his heels and tackles me, how he roll around the campfire, how he gets on top of me then reaches for something. What is that? He straddles me, screaming as he holds a flaming piece of wood up over my head.

with both hands. I can smell his skin burning. I can almost see the blisters forming right there. Adam! No wait! He doesn't wait. He brings that piece of flaming wood down onto Impossible Me's face over and over and over again. But it's not Impossible Me, is it? That's just... Me. Or that was... Always you! I nod. I get it. I know now. I turned and walked back into the woods as my sun cries over my dead body. I walk and walk deep into the darkness. The shadow thing is right next to me. I glance over, not surprised to see my own face staring back. Always me. Always us. I don't stop walking until I am completely lost. Where am I? What's going on? Where's the campsite? No, there was something there. I start to run. I start to run.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. Keep running. That's all you have to do, Terry. Just keep running. Don't stop. Do not... Dad! Not him!

I skid to a stop. Pying needles and leaves, slipping under the soles of my shoes, nearly sending me falling on my ass. Dad! I'm over here! Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story,

be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow horror fan. I'll see you in the next one.