Snook - Horrifying 4Chan Threads

Episode Date: October 29, 2025

These were some of the most interesting 4Chan threads I've ever read... these were all super scary and interesting, and the first story was actually the scariest story I've ever read on the channel. What do you think was stalking OP, and what was your favorite story in today's video? Also, would you like to see other long videos like this in the future? Thank you all for watching! You guys are the best! Make sure to subscribe to the Patreon for early access videos and many more perks! ⁠https://www.patreon.com/SnookYTAnd even though 4chan is anonymous and you can't even ask for permission... IF ANY OF THESE STORIES BELONG TO YOU, PLEASE EMAIL ME AT - [e-mail] before filing a copyright takedown or anything. Please, we can get it sorted out through email or some other form of communication, thank you.Sub goal is 1 million subs! So subscribe! Comment down below what you’d like to see in the future!And yes, I'm a human voice.Channel sub goal is 1 million subscribers! So subscribe! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to another 4chan threads video and today we're getting into some horrifying 4chan threads. You guys love the last one. So here I am making another one. And oh boy, today's stories and threads are so scary. Like nothing short of horrifying. I have never been more scared slash disturbed slash horrified by any story or thread before as much as I have by this, these ones.

in today's video. They're just so insane. And please like the video, subscribe to the channel, it helps more than you know, and please consider joining the Patreon for just $5 a month. You get all of these videos early, you get extra videos, you get tons and tons of extra content. So please consider that and it helps support the channel. And I can't wait to get into these stories. So without further ado, let's get into some horrifying 4chan threads. How's Sit In. For the past week and a half, I've been watching the house of some family friends while they've been out of town. It's a smallish house in a good neighborhood, and though there have been break-ins in the past, they have mostly been two cars

parked on the street. These incidents have been few and far between, and have been nothing more than petty thefts. The house I am watching has three dogs, two of which are large but would be worthless in some kind of home invasion situation. It is a pretty easy job, and along with watering plants and letting the dogs out two or three times a day, I also have to stay at the house every night. Since I am in college, I really need any money I can get, and this is a pretty easy gig. The dogs are pretty relaxed, but if they sense anything outside, they lose their minds and bark until I check it out. If the doorbell rings, it's as if hell has just come to earth and they clawed the door barking their heads off, but other than that, everything has been going well

without a hitch until a few nights back. Sorry for the backstory, but I feel it is necessary in order to explain why what is happening is so out of the ordinary. As I continue the story, I will label each event as night one, night two, etc. Starting with the night strange things started occurring.

Night one. A few nights back, I came back to this house straight from work. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and after showering, I laid down and started watching some TV. At roughly 1140, the dogs began barking at the front windows which faced the street, which is always a little startling when this happens at night. I thought it might be some cars or people on a late night walk,

but the street ends in a cul-de-sac, so I decided to take a look, since there shouldn't be any traffic on the street this late. Luckily, it was just a possum lurking around, so I shut the blinds and laid back down. I continued watching TV when, some weird shit happened. The doorbell rang. Just some ding-dong ditchers, right?

Well, I went to the front hall and was a little nervous to open the door. So I looked out the side window. Nobody. I told myself it was probably friends of the kid who actually lives here, so I laid down and continued watching TV. Five minutes pass.

Ding. I get up again. Check the door just to find nobody there once again. This happens two more times, about five minutes apart. Nothing there each time. At this point, I'm more pissed than scared, so this time I wait by the window. I wait so that I cannot be seen, but have clear view of the doorbell. I wait a few minutes and watch the door.

And as I am about to get up, it happens. The doorbell rings its single high-pitched sting, but nobody was at the door. I am both confused and a bit horrified. How the hell did it ring when it wasn't clicked, and I was staring at the front door the whole time. I get up and open the front door and take a few steps outside. Nothing. I see nothing. I hear nothing.

I locked the doors and walk back to the room I was watching TV. As I sit back down, a strange thought comes to mind. Where are the dogs? And why haven't they barked? one time at the bell. I flip every switch I see as I begin looking for the dogs. I finally find them in the parents' room, all lying in their dog beds. I am relieved they are all fine, but I don't know why they didn't react to a single bell ring. Even stranger was that, all of them were clearly awake as one came up to me as I entered the room and gave me its usual brainlessly happy look.

I made one of the larger dogs come with me, and I was finally able to be able to be. I was finally able to to go to sleep. I woke in the morning and let the dogs out along with my regular morning house duties. I went out the front door to go get the newspaper. They didn't cancel it for some reason. And when I came back to the door, I looked at the doorbell. Nothing was wrong with it. And when I pressed it, it worked perfectly. But there was something different. When I pressed the doorbell, it was profoundly louder and had two chimes instead of a single, more faint chime of the one I kept hearing the night before. I tried pressing it in a different ways, trying to recreate the same single chime I heard, but it just wouldn't happen. I gave up

and decided to head out to work, and would just hope things would be different that night. Well, I got my wish. That night was different, but not the way I was hoping. Night two. After work, I got back to the house and decided to watch some TV before bed, as I tend to. most nights. I had almost forgotten about the events of the previous nights, but then I was quickly given a reminder. At a few minutes past midnight, the doorbell rang again. One single chime. Nothing else. The dogs were silent in the other room, and so I decided to just turn up the TV volume and ignore it. About five minutes later, the bell rang again. I continued to ignore it and just sat there. Then something changed. The bell started to ring again but in shorter intervals.

By the sixth ring, I decided to get up and see what the hell was really going on. I searched the rooms leading to the kitchen and then came across something really strange. All the dogs were sitting, staring at the back door, just sitting there, as if awaiting for someone they knew to walk in the door. At this point, the family was. not due back for over a week. So I stood there in terror and watched, waiting for something to appear at the door. And also there's a picture of what I think is the window of the house. I mean, it's going to be super low quality since they didn't upload it in big. But yeah, I'll include the pictures that are in each post. But yeah, I mean, it's just a scary situation,

but this can give you some context of what the house looked like. And then the O.P. continues the story, saying, I continued standing, fixed in place for at least another five minutes. This whole time, no bell. There was dead silence except for the sound of cicadas outside. I finally built up the courage to approach the door and see if there was anything outside. Backdoor layout as pictured, this time with the lights on. My heart slowly stopped racing, and I looked out the window by the door to make sure nobody was out there. but why would the dogs be staring out the back door?

I opened the door, turned on the porch light, and tried to convince the dogs to go outside. I had just let them out no longer than 40 minutes ago, so I knew they had no business to be outside. I ushered them to go, but they just sat in place, unmoving. Come on, go out. But they just sat there, giving me their stupid, blank stairs. I looked around from the back porch one last time and went back inside.

I locked the door and laid back down. At some point, I finally fell asleep, still wondering where the bell was coming from and who was messing with me. Little did I know the worst was yet to come. Night 3. I didn't have the work the next day, so after I fed the dogs, I went back to my house and stayed there until about nine that night. Up to this point, I still hadn't told anybody about the bell ringing at night.

I just assumed they would think I was overreacting. But this night changed everything. As I pulled into the driveway, I immediately noticed something different. The door to their back garage was slightly ajar, and it definitely wasn't that way when I left that morning. I have this picture above, but I didn't even consider checking it until the next morning. The lawn care guy wasn't supposed to come for another two days. And even then, I doubt he would have needed anything from the garage tool room.

So how the hell was this open? It was not only closed when I left, but I know for a fact that it was locked. One of the dogs had pot at it a couple days before, and when I tried to open it, it was clearly locked and I didn't know where the key was. I closed the gate to the driveway and bolted to the back door. As I approached the door, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, and my heart sank. To the right of the door, I noticed something that I had somehow missed the past few days. There was a second doorbell, one by the back door. Why the hell would there be also a doorbell back here?

Did I really miss this whole time I've been here? But here it was I haven't pictured above. I clicked it once, and sure enough, I heard a single chime. The exact same chime I've been hearing the past two nights. The backyard is completely shut off. And though it is possible to hop a fence and get back there, the dogs would have surely heard someone try to trespass. But then again, they had been acting strange and not barking to the back bell for some reason.

Even stranger, when I tested the bell, the dogs came barking and ran to the back door, not knowing who was there. So why did they act differently before? I quickly got inside and locked the doors and went around checking every room just in case somebody was already in there with me. I also locked every window and door to the outside. I brought all of the dogs with me to the room I was staying in and just sat there for a while, trying to make sense of everything. I turned on the TV for a little while and tried to wipe it all from my head. Before I knew it, it was midnight once again.

I forgot to post this. This is the door to the back garage. And this is the picture he referenced to, I think, two posts back. But anyways, he continues his story saying, I hadn't been keeping track of the time as I watched TV. But I was quickly reminded of the time when I heard the single chime of the bell at a few minutes past midnight. It caught me by surprise. And as I jumped up, I noticed all the dogs walking to the back door.

I followed them cautiously. and slowly crept to look out the back window. There was nothing out there. Of course, at this point, I was actually hoping to see someone or something instead of being in constant fear of what it could actually be. I turned on the back light and scanned the backyard, but I still had the good sense to stay in the kitchen.

Then I saw the garage door I spoke of earlier. It was wide open, as if inviting me to come see what was within. I've seen plenty of horror movies in my day, so I was smart enough to stay within the house since it was already cracked earlier. I told myself the wind did it, and maybe the bell was just on the fritz. Ringing at the same time every night until I see what is wrong, yeah, it's totally just a glitch. I went back to my room and closed the door, trapping the dogs with me. I went to sleep and woke up the next morning with everything seeming fine.

I fed the dogs and brought in the paper, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. But when I let the dogs go out in the backyard, I saw it. The door to the back garage was shut. And now everything kind of changes with how O.P. is writing. So previously, night one through three, he was just kind of telling the story of what was happening. And now he's live posting. So all of it was kind of just the story before, explaining what was happening, and now he's live posting to 4chan, and he's asking for people's opinions, and he's just kind of giving live updates, so it makes it feel a lot more real, and it's just terrifying and unsettling. And so, without further ado, let's get into Night 4.

Night 4. Well, if you're reading this on August 12th, you are currently with me on night 4. It's about an hour to midnight, and so far there's nothing out of the night. the ordinary. Hopefully nothing of info will happen tonight because I can't take much more of this. I've brought a knife with me tonight just in case something happens. I know it's pretty dumb, but it at least provides me some feeling of security. I talked to my mom this morning, and she called the police to check things out and patrol the neighborhood a little more. Of course, I doubt they will, and they said to just call 911 if anything happens tonight, and they'll do

their best to help me out. I'm currently sitting with all the dogs, just waiting for it to be midnight. I will keep this thread posted to anything that may or may not happen, assuming I'm not killed or something. Ha, ha, yeah. Fingers crossed, and I'll get back to you all shortly. LP here. It's currently 1120 here at the moment.

Nothing spooky yet. Luckily, I'm seriously wondering what to do. I almost want to leave and drive around to like one and come back when whatever it is thinks I'm asleep. Any suggestions on what to do? Feel free to bump with whatever you want. Night 4.1.15 p.m. Status report time.

Nothing so far, but it's not quite midnight. The dogs do seem to be pacing in the kitchen now. I can hear their claws on the tile. I don't know why. They are usually asleep by now. The small, annoying dogs keep barking at the front door in the back window. Alternating every few minutes, so yeah, that's promising. I'm still hold up in the room I've been sleeping in alone at this point.

Here is a picture of the front yard from my POV. Shit quality, I know, but it's the best I can do at the moment. Seems calm as usual out front, so we will see if anything happens. I'll keep you all posted. Night 4. A little past midnight. This is O.P. I just got off the phone with the police and they say they are on their way. So I decided to just wait it out in my room and hope nothing.

would happen tonight. Well, I was very, very wrong. The bell went off, and all the dogs were lined up in front of the door again. You cannot understand how fast and loud my heart was pounding in my chest as I walked to the door with my knife in hand. I crept around the cabinets toward the door and saw nothing. Nobody. So I waited a couple minutes with clear side of the door from a secluded area. Nothing happened. I'm practically laying behind a couch near their entertainment room, which has pretty much nothing but windows facing their neighbor's driveway. I will post a pick when the cops show up,

and I get the balls to leave the room I'm currently in. I can barely even type this next part. I'm freaking out. As I'm laying down watching the back door, I see the dogs leave the kitchen and come to me. They walk by me and lay down next to me, which isn't too weird. As I'm still watching the door, a thud sounds from directly behind me.

Night 4. Past Midnight continued. It was a single bang just like the single bell ring. Practically shitting myself, I turn around and look in the dark room. Try not to have a heart attack. I see an old door. Doesn't open. It's sealed shut. And I determine that is where the noise came from.

Even creepier, that's the real. room I've been sleeping in for most of my nights. The window faces the couch I was sleeping on until it got too uncomfortable and I just took one of the beds. One more bit of creepiness? I just realized that the night I started sleeping in the bedroom is the night the doorbell started being rung. What the hell does this mean? Is this person telling me to go back to that room and sleep there to be watched? All I do know is that I'm locked in the bedroom with the dogs right now with my knife next to me, waiting for the cops. I will update you after the cops show up. Picks will soon follow to give you all a good point of reference for what I am talking about. O.P. status report. Cops are out front about to come in, I think.

No new noises. I think the cop scares off whoever it was, at least for now. I'm texting my mom and messaging the family now since I think I pretty much have to now. I will update you when the pigs leave. Hang in there. I will be back. Night four. Cops have left. nothing. The cops found nothing. They chalked it up to nothing more than someone messing with me, maybe a friend of the family. So basically, they are just trying to get my mind off of it and think it's a joke or something. But at this point, it has to be something real. Somebody who is not looking to do this kind of thing for fun. The cops said they patrol this area closely tonight, clearly not informed of the message my mom gave 911 this morning.

I'm taking the reference picks now with descriptions so you can better visualize the layout. This is my perspective when I sleep facing the door. The remote represents about where my head would be when I sleep. That is also my new trip name, so look for it closely as proof of it being me if I happen to post anything, and he just updated his name on 4chan. The door facing the couch, this would be like as if I'm,

I were in the creeps perspective. To the left off camera is where I was when I heard the thud. So I could have been seen easily from that door. Oops, forgot pick, and then he posts the pick. The pictures, like I said, are very low quality, but hopefully you can kind of see it and get what he's talking about. Night four, about to sleep. Okay, I'm done.

I am definitely not staying alone here tomorrow. The door. The goddamn door. it's cracked open again. The cops just came and checked it. It was locked. I'm done. I might call the cops to come back, but with my luck it will be closed by then or nothing will be in there. Whoever is doing this as smart. They were watching from somewhere the whole time. They want me outside. But I am locked in the bedroom again with all the dogs. Bottles on the doors. Thanks for the suggestion. The adrenaline is wearing off now, so I'm going to sleep now and update anyone who's

interested tomorrow night. Check back here at around 11 p.m. or later. Texas time. I'm going to see what the hell is in that garage door in the morning. Why does he want me to go in there? I'm horrified to find out, and I'm definitely still going to sleep in this bedroom, no matter how many times this bastard rings the bell. Anyways, here's a decent pick from the kitchen of the cracked door again, but that's as close as I'm getting to the outside. I might try and bring a camera too. I need one at this point just to try and see who the hell is doing this. O.P. signing off. Save my trip name so you'll know it's me tomorrow

if you're at all interested. O.P. here. Sorry I haven't posted anything this morning. I am not kill. And nothing is wrong with this morning, luckily. But I did find a new, horrifying discovery when it comes to that garage door. I will update you all on that tonight.

I'm currently at my house just trying to recover from last night. And I'm going back tonight. It's the last night I have to watch the place. so I think I can stick it out once more. The family hasn't returned my message yet. So I'm without any answers from them. I will post a new thread later tonight,

recapping everything and I will repost all images and text of the events. If this thread isn't killed by then, I'll post the link to the new thread. Check back at around 11 Texas time for an update. Most of my friends are off at college, but I may ask one or my brother to come check it out, but they probably can't stay all night. As for the camera, yes, I am bringing a better one,

but I can't find my good video cam at the moment. I may also do the string thing at the base of the door slash bottles again to see if it tries to get in tonight. I will keep you all posted. Night five. Final night. Let me perface this final night by mentioning something that I discovered this morning. When I woke up this morning, I did my house duties as usual, then went to the backyard to see about this garage door

that has been a living nightmare for me. It was still open. Not wide open, but cracked like it was the night before after the officers had left it. Even though it was daytime, my heart was pounding as I approached the door, not knowing what I was going to find on the other side. As pictured above, this is what I found.

Nothing. Well, almost nothing. The room was full of nothing but yard care tools, and luckily no bodies, living or dead. But then I came to a frightening realization as I took my hand off the door. The door slowly closed on its own. Why did this creep me out? Because as I said, a couple nights back, the door was wide open, and there is no possible way for that to happen naturally.

The door would have to have been propped open or even worse. Somebody had to have been holding it open from the inside. Also, there was no key in or not. out of the door, so whoever was opening the door had a key for it. But why would somebody want me to look in there? There is nothing. Was my tormentor staying in there overnight? If so, then for how long? And one last question that is driving me crazy. Is that the only key to this property that he has? Night 5 continued. It is August 13th and about an hour away from midnight. It was raining on my way over to the house which is never a good omen for a night like this.

Luckily, the rain has passed through, and I don't think it will rain again tonight. But I still feel no relief from what may or may not come. I have searched the entire property, looking for possible ways in and out of the house, and it looks like I'm sealed up tightened here. The only way in is to break something and clearly alert me. I'm hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

I still have my knife. not old enough to purchase a handgun. But I will be doing so when I come of age after all this, and I'm holding up in a room alone again. A friend helped me search earlier, but had to leave about an hour ago. So just me, the dogs, my knife, and my phone at the ready to call the cops.

I am truly hoping for a peaceful night, so that tomorrow it is the family's problem now and not mine. Any advice to ride out the night would be much appreciated, and I will be glued to this thread to update everyone until I eventually pass out. For thread slash string, it'll get you if doors open or hallways were passed. Obviously, don't tape anything where the dogs will run into and break the thread. For doors, tape on both ends of a thread slash string. Apply at very top of door to door frame, short piece so it can't easily be noticed

and definitely can't be reapplied while shutting the door from the outside. Doorways the dogs can't get into, one foot above the ground all the way across. Black thread is the best for this, but any thread will do. String is easily visible, though, so not as good. And you can't really feel thread when you break it from the tape walking into it, although you might hear it, but most people wouldn't even think about that. Clear tape works best, but tan tape is great for that color door, or just putting the tape on the non-visible sides of the frame.

Push tape hard so it won't fall off on its own. Of course, this doesn't help if the person is in the house with you in their, LOL. Sure. See. Number one thing to remember with trade craft stuff is to avoid having a false positive and getting freaked out. It takes a bit of know-how. For example, if you don't secure the tape enough, it can fall off. If you use just enough tape attached to just enough thread, the tape will come off,

which is good because the person can't reapply something when they don't know where you put it to begin with. Of course, gravity is another suggestion. Shut the door on a solid slip of paper, not too thin or long, or the paper can grip the corner of the door and literally open and shut without falling off. Some old latex paint can also stick paper to it. Toothpick on the top of the door is a good one but can be fooled if the person opens and closes the door really, really slowly. Tape and thread is the universal easy one.

Its downside is it can be reapplied in certain situations. i.e. if you're leaving and apply it with the door open five inches or so, you can check by opening door an inch when you get back. Then the person who entered will see it on their way out and can reapply it if they're smart enough. Also, you have to apply it to every door or someone can just reapply from inside and leave through another door. Mostly, though, it's effective. Webcams are more effective, but in a pinch, you can catch maintenance guys slash landlords unlawfully entering an apartment, etc, etc. with this trick. Same with knowing if your roommate is raiding your mini fridge.

Tradecraft is just general life know-know-how and is good to know. O-P here. Fuck it. I'm doing the string and tape idea. I'm out of time. Only about 10 minutes left. I'll post-picks as proof,

but I'm going back to this room and hiding where I can't be seen. It's clear he knows where I am all the time. So there's no point looking out for him tonight. It's not worth another mild heart attack. be back shortly. I'll keep you posted. No bell yet. Maybe that's a good thing. But it might be because he saw me lurking through the house even though I had the lights off. My camera flash, the porch light, and street lights are the only lights that could have possibly made me visible. Here is the back door strung up. Yes, all locks including the one pictured are firmly locked. And I'm sure you understand by now,

but he's talking about, you know, setting a trap so he knows that somebody's there with him and he's not just imagining it or, you know, kind of scaring himself into believing there's something there when there really isn't. But we'll see if OP catches anything. And then he continues saying, tape is on tight. This is the front door. Sorry if it's hard to see. The string kind of blends in, but is good, so if anyone tries to enter, they might not notice. One more pick coming. Still no bell. Here is the sealed door that I assume I was being watched from. I put it here, just in case, since it seemed to be a place he enjoys. I also have a single piece of tape on each door,

so that if it is opened, it will hopefully fall off and the intruder won't know where it went. It's not a great plan, but it's something. At least I'll know if someone came in. Hopefully. I'll keep you posted for a while longer. Still no bell. Ding.

It just happened. What do I do? I don't want to move, but it doesn't stop until I investigate. The dogs aren't moving the same. time. It's like they don't even care. What now? Should I just let it keep going until it gets bored? How does this thing know exactly where I am? I am almost in tears at what just happened. I am in a room. Door closed with the windows all shut. There is absolutely no possible way to see me in here. The bell rang at least 18 times in much shorter than five minute intervals.

I honestly lost track. It must have been a ring every couple minutes. Then it sped up to a ring every 10 seconds by the last bell. They kept getting progressively closer together, as if a bomb ticking faster and faster about to go off. Then it stopped. Dead silence. I sat there. Knife in hand. Back to the wall.

Then I heard it. A loud slam as if somebody slapped the wall with all their force. The noise came from the other side of the wall directly behind my head. And I mean directly behind my head. I'm not going to lie. I screamed and I swear I almost fainted and became very lightheaded. I've moved to another room and I'm practically in tears. I've dialed the cops. I desperately need their help. I'm still posting. I am not dead. I need this to keep my mind off of it even if it's just for a second. I want it to be over. The other side of the wall was in the driveway but this was

on the other side of the gate from the backyard where the bell is. So it rang the bell. then hop the fence or something, then slam the wall, but I should have heard it hopped the fence. It's old and creaky. Cops aren't here yet. When they get here, I'm in my car and gone. The dogs can deal with this shit. It doesn't seem to give a shit either way about them. We'll update as info is needed.

The cop showed up finally. I saw their lights flashing. No siren, though. Through the cracks and the blinds in this room. I met them at the front door. Locked both locks and told them to follow me to my car behind the gate. gate. I have a remote gate opener. I waited for them to search the back a bit, and they went into the garage room, which was still open. Nothing. They looked everywhere they could on the outside,

and I told them I was leaving. I didn't bother having them check inside. I honestly can't even bring myself to walk near that house again tonight. None of the strings were off that I could see as I fled the house and gather my important things before I left, so I didn't see a point to have them piss off the dogs and bother them. From their arrival to my arrival to my eyes, I could be able to my departure, it must have only been 10 minutes at the most. I was so done with that house. Also, a note about the dogs. When the wall was hit, they were startled, but didn't bark or seemed to care that much. How? Yet when the cops came, they were barking at the door before the cops even reached the door. I don't know. Hell, I may never know what happened here tonight. I'm coming

back to get the rest of my things in the morning and will give you a final wrap-up, especially if I find anything out of the ordinary. I'm at a stop sign in a well-lit street writing this right now. I will post when I get home before I crash for the night. All that matters is I'm okay. Only very shaken up. O.P. here.

The cops were there when I left for those who were wondering. I gave them the gate code to lock up when they were done. I hauled it out of there quickly, so they were going to make sure tonight, since it's been the second consecutive night I've had them come out, different officers this time. I am at another stop.

about five minutes out from house. Just letting you know I'm not kill and I'll be back soon. Give me a few to get home and settle in. I'm now in my own bed at home. I told my parents I tell them everything in the morning. It's easier for me to type it than actually speak it right now. For anyone wondering, there was nobody in or under my car, so I'm all clear there. Also, I barely looked out the front windshield all the way home.

I was pretty much glued to the rearview mirror, seeing if I was being followed. but I didn't have a single car even remotely near me the whole way home. No doorbell at the house. No banging, no nothing. My dog barks at anything, even us. So if anyone or thing of any kind came near the door, we would know. It looks like I'm safe tonight. This has been one hell of a ride.

I'm going back in the morning. So check for a new thread tomorrow with the same pick I have been posting at the start of each thread. Even if all is well and fine, I will still post just to give you all close. It will probably be around noon. Texas time. That way, I'll sleep in a little and be sure neighbors will be up and about to deter any more occurrences. I'll be awake a little longer, answering any questions before I doze off. I'll let you all know when I'm signing off of the night. Thanks for sticking with me. Hopefully someone has been enjoying it, because I sure has has held have not enjoyed one minute of tonight. It's O.P. here from last night for my last

checkup on the house. I'm out front of my car at the moment, and nothing seems unusual. I didn't want to come back, but the daytime makes it seem safe enough. We'll keep you updated for a while until I leave. For anyone wanting to catch up or for anyone new, here is a link to last night's thread. I'm heading in as we speak. Nothing out of the ordinary so far, and I can see the dogs, all of which look fine.

Proof it is me in my trip name. I forgot to add it before. I just walked in the back door after looking around the backyard for a few minutes. The garage door was still open. and I peeked in just to find nothing once again. I also heard nothing last night, so I don't think it wants to bother me specifically. It just likes this house. We'll keep you updated.

I'm doing a little cleaning too, so I apologize if my replies are several minutes apart. I started doing some vacuuming when I noticed something strange in the kitchen. The string from the night before is gone. Now, this scared me initially, but I was thinking it might have come off when I came in the back door this morning. I didn't think to look for the string right off the bat. I looked around on the back porch and all in the kitchen to see if I inadvertently dragged it somewhere else when I came in, but then I looked at the front door. No string. Now, it could have possibly come off when I opened the door for the cops last night, but if it was now somewhere in the front yard, chances are I would never find it.

Here is the part that truly has me scared. The string for the steel door is gone. I have no reasonable explanation for this. It is just gone. I didn't touch it, and there's no way the dogs or cops touched it. Cops never came in. But I might be regretting that decision now. This leaves only one possibility left.

Either it found a way in last night, after I left, or it has had access into the house this entire time, and I have been unaware. This is raising so many questions. I'm going to keep looking for the string and look for any possible explanations for what is going on. I'm looking all over the house and I can't find anything. I'm about to take out the trash. Then I'm considering just leaving. I don't think it's worth me staying here until they get back.

I've already left a few messages on their phone this morning. We'll report shortly. And for those wondering about a dinosaur being walked, no. I wouldn't go through all of this just for it to be one big, dumb joke. I just stepped outside to take out the trash when I saw something that made my heart sink. The gate door that protects the sealed door was wide open. Now, this second door has been unlocked since I first checked on it in the back a few nights back, but I'm almost certain that it was tightly shut so it was unable to open by the wind.

There is a slight chance I'm wrong in it opened by itself. But even the wind, I don't think this can. could do it. Plus, I checked the entire backyard when I showed up here and it was closed. But this alone is nothing compared to what I found upon investigation. I walked to the door, dreading what I was going to find. As I slowly approached the door, I found something that I cannot explain. The string, all three pieces hanging on the door. This was not. I got there when I initially arrived. So whatever has been doing this is still here.

Watching. Even more frightening, a key was in the lock. I turned it and the door was far from sealed. It opened with ease. So why would I be told that the door was sealed? They have said it has been for years. I've known these people all my life. Don't know if I've ever mentioned that.

Also, I have watched their house for years but without any incidents. But this leads me to my final questions at the moment. Why hasn't it come in when I've been here? Or even worse, has it been coming in this entire time? What if it has been freely coming and going? Watching me sleep every night since I've moved from the room that it could clearly watch me. Nothing has been stolen either. So does it simply like to watch?

Does it get off on seeing me in fear? I am awaiting to hear from the owner shortly. I will keep you updated. And the picture of the strings hanging to the door, that is nothing short of horrifying. O.P. here. Sorry, it's been a while. They're plane landed and they called me after hearing my message.

Give me a few minutes to type things out. Then I'm going home. They'll be home in about an hour and a half, and I don't want to be here much longer. Their phone call was far from comforting. The family called back and asked what was up, since I didn't give them too many details of my message I left. I talked to the wife and told her about what was happening leading up to today's events.

They had no prior knowledge of any stalker-type figure, and they haven't encountered any issues like I have been having at the house. Then I asked about the back door and it being sealed shut, like they told me years ago. She told me that they haven't used the door in years, and they're not even sure where the key to it is anymore. They had two keys originally, one of which broke off in the lock a number of years ago, the other one went missing.

She said that she must have dropped it outside or something. She wasn't quite sure where it was. She said that was at least three years ago. They never changed the lock since they never used the door, and haven't had any reason to replace it. it. They said they would let me know in the morning if anything weird happens and they will drop off my money in the morning. She really didn't seem too worried. I don't think she fully understood or believed everything I told her, but I have the key now. And that's the only door the key works with.

Garage door is a mystery. I'll leave it on the counter for them and I'm about to leave. Maybe the key in the door with all the string and the watcher's way of saying he was done here? Has he had that key since it was originally lost about three years ago? I don't know. I may never know. I'm going back to the safety of my own home and hoping this is all over. I'll stick with this thread until all interest is lost, answering questions. But I doubt if I will hear of any new occurrences.

I'll probably give a checkup later this week, probably Friday before I head off to school. Thanks for those who stuck with me. It helped me keep my sanity. and that's the last we've ever heard from OP, or at least in kind of archived history. And I'm just going to give a quick, you know, yeah, my opinion on this story before we get into the next thread, but this was single-handedly the most disturbing story I've ever read.

I don't know why. I mean, I've read hundreds of stories on this channel at this point. Like literally hundreds. And this one was so scary and disturbing for some reason, because I think it just felt so real and it's so believable. I mean, like a lot of the stories I read are just kind of so out there. So, you know, you could write off a lot of things. But for this one, I just truly believe the O.P.

Was dealing with something or dealing with someone. And I think someone just wanted to scare you or just wanting to watch you while just kind of passively playing with you is so. so scary to me. I mean, like, it wasn't a robber. He didn't steal anything. He literally just wanted to watch DOP. He knew what he was doing at all times, and he seemed to just want to scare him. And for all of those reasons, that's why this is one of the most disturbing and scary stories I've ever read. I wonder if you guys will agree with me in the comments, but yeah, this was, I mean, one of my favorites now, but yeah, this was so scary to me.

I had goosebumps the entire time. It was just so scary, disturbing, and I mean, it was a good story, but thank God OPE is safe. And I wonder if the family ever dealt with that mystery man or mystery person ever again. Hopefully not, but wow, that was a great story. On to the next thread. Anon gets a weird phone call. Late shift at call center. Just me.

and one other guy in the building. He takes a call that sounds like an old person who stayed up late and figured this would be the time to figure out their new laptop. While he's desperately trying to explain that we just support her internet connection, not her devices, I get that annoying fucking beep in my ears

that tells me some asshole is on the line. I give the usual opening line. Thanks for calling. This is Aynne. Can I get your name and phone number? He asks. Hello? Shit, my mic is muted.

No, it isn't. Hello? I asked back. Briefly thinking about how odd it is that this is one of the very, very few questions that is appropriately responded to with the exact same question. He asked if this is company I work for. I say yes, give the line again, thanks for calling, etc. How can I help you?

He says none of his electronics are working and he thinks it's the internet. Ask for his house phone. Gives an area code I don't recognize. in any ways because who am I to question a customer this early in the call? Nothing. Ask for his name, as he's likely fucked up the number. He gives me his name. I do the slow-ass search by name function. Ask about troubleshooting while it comes up. He says he doesn't know where his modem is because he can't leave his room. I ask, what does that mean? He says his door won't open, but the one time it did, there was nothing but blackness.

I only now am noticing how pronounced the static on the line was. I originally thought it to be a filtering issue with the phones and DSL line, which is a common occurrence, but the static was much more front and center. Search finishes, nothing. Google his area code. Texas. We only support shit in Saskatchewan, Canada.

He asked if I know why his family is gone. I ask him where he lives, gives me a town in Texas, ask him what the date is, claiming it's a security question. He says it's November 2011. It was August of 2012. Co-worker has finished his call at this point and clocked out as it was a couple minutes to midnight, which was the end of our shift. He's at my desk, making a face that says,

why did you ask what the date was and why do you look like someone shit in your ear? I asked the guy in the other line when his internet stopped working. He says he thinks someone unplugged something because someone entered his house and then the blackness came and nothing was working. After he says this, the line goes dead. I explained to my coworker what just fucking happened. He says to write down my ticket number and see if this guy's calls back under the same number or what. So I write it down. In the guy's name as well, so I remember

what the ticket was about. Jorge Vargas. Ask my supervisor to pull up the call as they are all recorded, the next shift I have. She finds it. We listen to it at lunch. The call comes in. There's no caller ID. Everything is just like it happened that night except for one key detail. I'm the only one talking. The other side of the line is dead air. No static or anything. My supervisor is really good-natured and has a good sense of humor and asks if this was a prank. Did I have someone call in from an unlisted number and do this? Try to convince her otherwise. Co-worker later vouches that I was really scared looking. Only coworker believes me. Really? Google search Jorge Varhas and get an actor, append Texas to the end and find this.

Turns out, he actually lived in Texas City. In the town name he gave me, Amburn was the street. And the OP then sends a news link to a, yeah, just a news site. And guess what? Second man gets life in prison for role in 2011 double slain. Police discovered the bodies of Jorge Vargas Jr. 33 and his daughter inside their house in the 700 block of Amburn, November 21st, 2011 in Texas City. So the people or the person O.P. was talking to was a dead person. and this truly does scare me because, I mean, I don't know if O.P. is lying or not.

I mean, for sure he could, but to lie about something like this is so, would be just so wrong, you know. And I truly, I just believe the O.P. I mean, I could be falsely believing, but it just, it's such a kind of random story almost. I mean, a guy working at a call center in Saskatchewan, Canada, he gets a call from somebody from Texas City, and he gives the name and also the exact same date that he was killed. Oh, my God. Chills. Terrifying. Horrifying, really. I mean, what do you guys think about this?

But before, you know, I kind of give more of my thoughts, the O.P. kind of does a kind of final paragraph saying, by all means, I'll let you in on another detail that I felt compelled to leave out last night, as I was already given myself the fucking shakes retelling that story. I usually have a pretty active imagination, and if it was any other call, I would have attributed it to said imagination. But I could swear, I heard other voices in the static. I tell myself it was either the TVs we have set up or the one in the break room, but the TVs in the call area are usually muted for obvious reasons and the break room TV is never on. Co-worker agreed to close up the building and let me go home after the call. So I kind of

buggered out of there quickly. And yeah, and the more I've thought about this, I mean, who knows, maybe it could be some sort of prank caller, but still, it is so utterly random that it, why would it be a prank call? You know, I don't know. I mean, it could just be a horrible prank. The O.P. could be lying for the story. I don't know. But what I do know is this is scary. Scary as hell. And, I don't know. I think it's terrifying that Jorge got murdered. and his daughter murdered. And he, it just, the whole, it's very weird. And it just seems wrong.

In that sort of way, I don't know, it just seems off. It seems disturbing. And, yeah, I just don't know. Like this, I don't know why, but this story kind of screwed me up a little bit. I don't know. It's just very disturbing, real, and just kind of honest in a way. I don't know if you guys feel the same way about this, but yeah, I just, very, very creepy. Um, yeah, on to the next one.

Homeless Commando. From age 22 to a few months before my 24th birthday, I lived without a home in northeast Tennessee. I'm doing better now. I eventually got another job and got back on my feet, but boy, Tennessee backcountry is not a fun place to be homeless. I lost my home initially because my roommate got busted for pot. I didn't smoke it, but because I lived there, I was cut up in it all. I served three months in the county jail. By the time I got out, I had been evicted. My landlord was kind enough to store my things in a storage unit, but I had

to get them all out immediately. Since I had nowhere to live and nowhere to put it all, no family to drop back on, I just sold it all off. Most of it went to a yard sale type thing I did at the storage place. The rest went to pawn shops. The only things I kept her clothes, a big tarp, a Glock rifle and my guns. I only had two. Pick related. And an old Winchester 37 break action 20 gauge that was my grandmother's. Anybody want to hear my stories?

I feel like I've lived a fairly K experience without being military. Ask me anything. Bumping for interest. Are you a prohibited person now that you have a drug offense? I am not. Luckily, Tennessee has very good fun laws. As long as you aren't a violent felon, you should be good. I was really surprised they were still there.

I had them both locked in an old changing room-style locker I got at the flea market. I guess they never went through the paperwork to get a warrant to open it since I wasn't the one who was getting in real trouble. Basically, my roommate bought a bag of weed in the presence of an undercover, and they served him a warrant. I got one too since I was inhabiting a structure in which drugs are kept or sold, but I passed every drug test and told the truth through the whole thing. Yeah, I kind of threw my roomy under the bus a little, but we both agreed when we moved in that if he got caught with that shit, it was 100% on him and I was going to look out for my own ass. So yeah, got off really easy, I think. Anyway, here is a story from my first night. 2 to 3 a.m.

Sleeping outside the storage unit place. It's on a little one-lane road because almost all the roads here are one-lane besides the main road through town. It was a clear night and I wasn't worried about rain, so I pitched my tarp over the drain ditch by the road and tried to get some sleep. Just kind of laying there on a makeshift bed of clothes

with my duffel bag acting as a pillow. Reflecting. Bad feels. Miss my gram-grams. Something walks over my tarp on the side bordering the road. Whatever, just keep walking, man. See a guy. Really skinny.

Shitty, dirty jeans and a wife-beater. Meth or crack, you decide. Hey, buddy. Hey, hey, buddy. Under the tarp, hello. What, bro? Come out and talk to me for a second. I want to ask you something.

Now I'm trying to sleep. You smoke? Nope. I mean the good shit. I don't smoke anything. except these Marlboros. At this point, I'm gripping the Glaw knife, wishing I had bullets.

Forgot to mention, my bullets weren't there when my landlord was cleaning my shit out. Well, let me come under there and smoke real quick. I'll give you some. Oh my fuck, I don't want any. Just leave me alone, man. I got to get some sleep. That's fucked up, bro.

I'd let you smoke in my tent. Please, it'll be real quick. He's walking toward the tent. I can't really stand up without wearing the tent like an umbrella pole. Scramble backwards. Away from him, but out from the tarp. Stand up, probably look ridiculous. All wild-haired, covered in wet grass. My knife is in my hand, but by my side, it's dark. The blade is black, and I don't think he sees it. He does something I didn't expect. He just goes right under my tarp. Like he doesn't even see me. I'm pissed. That's my goddamn tarp hut,

you inbred fuck. Inform him of this. What man, he yells? Stupid fuck stands right up. The tarp drapes around him like a sheet ghost. I advanced toward him and grab the tarp. He steps back, grabs the other end of my tarp. Engage, tug of war. He's losing. The guy is a skeleton, and I've still got all of my weight on me.

Reaches behind him. What are you? Po, po, po, fuck you, N-word. Seriously, he called me N-word. I'm white. He turns around, takes off running. I'm on the ground fucking convulsing. I mean, I'm almost like having to see.

seizure level shaking. Just kind of staring at the sky. Every muscle in my body spasm. Think I've been shot. Now I die. Go black. Wake up. I'm fine. Tarp is fine. Everything is fine. Fine. 22 casing on the ground. Son of a bitch tried to pop me with a 22 auto of some kind. So that was my first night homeless, you guys. So after I sold off my shit, I had already much decided I wasn't going to try for a hotel. I'd gotten around $700 total. I was already a poor guy before I was homeless, hence the Taurus. I knew that would only give me for a few nights at a hotel, and they were all in the city anyway, a good hours drive from town. I decided to hit up my Walmart and stock up on some supplies. I got a little pop-up tent, a few packs of bickliders, ramen noodles, protein powder, etc.

Of course, I also got a box of Blazer 45s, and one of those turkey. hunting utility belt things with the big drawstring pouch and fanny pack i got a box of birdshot 20 gauge versus hunting but i also had a big plastic bag of old ass shells from grams most of them were cardboard instead of plastic probably from the 70s onward a nice mix of birdshot buck and slug she had collected over the years shells were probably the only resource i wasn't concerned about so anyway now i'm all geared up got my big mulserp duffel of clothes my crazy-ass redneck utility belt and the stank of a man who's not showered in over a week. I was in a deeply stressed state of mind for obvious reasons. I wanted to just relax. Finally, for a whole day. My feet hurt

and I was hungry. I walked from Walmart to the street I grew up on. We had a nice house on two and a half acres. The backyard ended and it was just woods and mountain from there up. It also had a creek, and I knew from childhood exploration that you can follow it up the mountain to a nice little waterfall with a big rock overhang, the perfect spot for today, a secret fortress of solitude that surely I could be left alone to eat some goddamn ramen noodles in peace. Green text will follow. I thought this way would be better to explain how I ended up there and with what? Incognito holster.

I don't know why my green text went to the bottom, kind of ruined my whole flow anyway. Fast forward to waterfall, probably two to three miles up the mountain. It's probably about 5 o'clock in the evening. But I didn't think to buy a watch and after. my phone died, I had no reliable source of time. Fuck it though. It's unbearably hot. Middle of July in Tennessee. Very humid, just sticky and awful. I set up my little tent. Chopped some dryish wood up with my $8 Walmart hatchet, grab tactical bar of Irish Spring, hop in the water, it's about chest height where the waterfall hits the creek. Feels very good man. Nice and cool,

soap smells awesome, finally feel human. Boil up a fresh batch of ramen, talking two packs, my a guy, feel like a king, it's funny. I genuinely remember this fondly. I felt amazing. The broth was hot and salty and nourishing. Best meal my life. Night falls. This time, if anybody sneaks up on me, I've got buckshot for him. Confident, cozy. I start drifting to sleep listening to the fire. I'm awoken by a loud splash. I didn't really. recognize at first, that that's what I heard, just a vague noise in the night. I had my eyes open, looking out the mesh of the tent. Something big moves in the darkness. The fire is out now, but my eyes are just well to the dark so I can see all right. Can't make it out. It's turning

around. I can hear it snorting and huffing and it's big. The real guys here probably can guess. A large black bear is drinking out of the creek. Suddenly understand why everybody says, not to make camp too close of the stream. White knuckled on my shotgun. I'm doubting if a 20-gauge shot shell would do fucking anything to this guy. Quietly get my 45 out for my turkey holster. Have no actual idea what I'm going to do.

But I know that black bears aren't generally aggressive. I've seen them before. I have always been an avid camper. The way my luck had been lately, though, I wasn't taking any chances. So the bear has turned around now. And he's sniffing. He's sniffing hard.

The only food I had was ramen noodles in the packet. I burned the trash from the ones I ate and washed my pot in the sink. Feeling a bit confident now. I slowly sit up into a low squat. My head touching the top of the tent. Aim my 45. My logic was I'd rather have eight shots that probably won't do anything than one shot that probably won't do anything.

My plan is, if I tried to get in or puts his face at the mesh, to just unload on him and tactically shit my pants. Hope for the best. Bear my soul to Valhalla. He he's getting closer to the camp. When I see the grave mistake I made, my fucking bowl and fork are sitting there like unwashed peasants. God fucking damn it, Ayn. He's intrigued. Starts licking bowl. He falls the scent, comes right up to my tent. All right, Anon, get ready. Finger on the trigger. I'm shooting cinder blocks. He sniffs the ground in front of the mesh, and I'm psyching myself up saying, if he touches the mesh, fire.

If he touches the mesh, fire, just over and over again. He sees me, and I see him seeing me. We look at each other for what seems like a long time. He was tense, and so was I. Neither of us knew what to do, I think. I could see his sides expanding with heavy breath. They say black bears aren't very big, but when you're one dude in a little pop-up tent,

looking at in the eyes, it seems pretty fucking huge. I'm imagining how. biggest claws are, probably comically bigger than in reality. The tension is getting to me. Sweat in my eyes. I just want something to happen. I summon every ounce of courage in my body and let loose a thundering battle cry. Get, get, go on. He fucking backs up and fucks off. I hear him crashing away for a good three to four minutes. This would not be the last time I encountered Sir Bernstein. I, and for the guy that asked, I got a job by befriending a cashier. I, and for the guy that I asked, I got a job by befriending a cashier at the convenience store I bought shit from.

He let me use his address on my applications and clean up in the store, bathroom before interviews. He really got me out of a huge jam. Can't think of him enough. Gas station cashiers are bros. So I like the waterfall spot regardless of my bare encounter. I spent four straight days there just shooting squirrels and living off of squirrel ramen stew. I even caught a rabbit. One afternoon, I also caught about a dozen crawdads out of the creek and boiled them up.

They were pretty good with the Frank's Red Hot I bought from Walmart. I didn't really have a plan at this point, and I was in a very, let's say, primal state of mind. All of my thoughts were about my next meal, if the firewood was getting low, this sort of thing. I drank straight from the spring where the creek originates from. It was nice and cold all the time and very clean. This is in the Cherokee National Forest, or I guess more accurately, just outside of it. So I'm going on like this, and I'm scouting out other good spots I can use, so I'm not in the same place all the time and risk capture. I should mention it. I'm extremely paranoid at this point. I haven't had an actual real conversation with literally anybody since I got out of jail.

Still didn't miss county lockup, though. General pop full of redneck shit kickers and freaks. Find a thicket. A circle of dogwood trees with an empty center. It looks perfect, very discreet. I wasn't sure if I was. was on somebody's land or not. So discretion was key. I didn't want to venture far from a good water source like the spring, decide to stay there for the night to try it out. Sorry if I'm a little slow. I'm eating dinner while I write this. I set up my tent. Scrape out a little fire pit. I didn't think about needing a digging tool, so I would use my hatchet to sort of dredge it out. As the sun is setting, I'm boiling the collected bones of my small game into a broth. Might as well top-shape this shit. I'm almost out of ramen. I'm dreading hiking back to civilization, back to all their

judgmental faces, get a job, get a life. Yeah, yeah. Before I left town, I'd been out of barely a week, and people could already tell. This being the small town that it is, too, lots of people know who I am. I imagine over and over, all the conversations everybody back there must be having, but probably weren't about me. The stress and loneliness had started turning to bitter anger. I had been using a string of beer slash soup cans I'd collected from farther down the mountain as a makeshift alarm. String it up around my pup, the cuddle in which my shotgun and add the meats and wild onions of the broth. Smells good, man.

Eat, meditate, sleep. I wake up feeling unusually rested. I perform my morning ritual of stretching and drinking cool water from my jug. As I'm stretching, I bend my back deeply and look up, really up for the first time. I hadn't noticed it the day before, or it wasn't there the day before, but there was a very thick, very dense net of spider webs about four feet up from my head. I had a pet tarantula once, and that fucker hated me and I hated him. Fuck spiders.

Still, this seemed like a really good spot. I wasn't about to let these cretans take away from me. These are my trees now, goddammit. I am an apex predator. I gather my things and piled it all outside the ring of trees. I got a stick and stuffed a bunch of dry leaves into a sock and stretched the sock around the top. I taped it shut and boom.

The world's dumbest torch. Squirt lighter fluid into slash on bottom layer of webs. Hose down my torch. Commence the purge. I light the torch. A part of me hopes this stupid thing I'm doing well just engulf me in flaming spiders and I die. Graham didn't raise no quitter though.

I full on spar and charged into the trees and heaved my mighty torch. The whole thing goes up in flames. It falls down expectedly. However, I hadn't counted it on it falling on me. I hadn't thought this through. My mind was in a reckless state. So I'm swatched and burning spider web. This is not what I wanted after all. Stumble out of trees. Stop, drop, and roll. Luckily, the web burned up really quickly. My shirt was pretty blackened and I could smell burning hair, but I was okay. Pretty fucking burnt, though. More on that later. I look back into the trees and everything is gone. The webs had burned up, and luckily, had it caught anything else. I wasn't that worried I'd burn the forest down since it's so humid and everything is so green, but still, I was glad. I noticed everything is quiet, and my stomach just drops. I write it off as paranoia. What, did I anger some spider witch? No, I was going crazy as all.

Still, I felt really uneasy, like I shouldn't have destroyed the web. Fuck it, rule the jungle. I shall now claim my prize and set up camp again. Tomorrow, I'll go into town and blow my last $50. Night falls. I'm just chilling, drinking some reheated broth, wishing I had a book or something, anything to do. You don't think having to rough it can get boring, but once night falls and there's nothing

more that can be done, you're just alone with your thoughts. So I'm reclined back on the log, fires crackling, and everything seems well. I'm listening to the crickets, and they stop. I'm half asleep. Pretty relaxed, but I'm on edge enough. that it sets me off immediately. I grab my shotgun, which is basically a reflex at this point. I keep it loaded with a slug now, feel safer than the buck. Footsteps. Regular ones, though. Like the person wasn't trying to sneak up on me or anything. I wondered how well the fire was showing

through the tree line. I knew I was probably trespassing, so I was also worried about that. People will absolutely shoot you for being on their land around here, and they will get away with it. No fucks are generally given when it comes to these good old boys. He walks right up through the tree line. I probably looked like a ghost because I was genuinely afraid. He could be the police, he could be a serial killer, or a junkie, anybody. It's a pretty well-dressed guy, and I mean in the blue-collar sense. He's probably in his mid to late 50s,

really short-cropped gray hair under a brown ball cap, short-sleeved blue plaid shirt under a shooting vest, the kind with the big leather pad on the shoulder slash chest, car heart jeans, clean, new-looking work boots. I'm just stupefied. I've got my shotgun in my lap, but I'm not touching it. I had instinctively raised my hands up in case it was a cop. Who the hell are you?

Do you have permission to be here? He's shouting, but he asked if I had permission to be there, so I guessed he wasn't the landowner, maybe a friend or neighbor or something. No, I'm sorry, I'll go. I don't want trouble. Now, at this point, I realize he's not carrying a flashlight, and I never saw light through the trees. I start to stand up, not thinking about it. I grab my shotgun as I stood to leave. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, the guy screams. He's got that cop tone of voice. You know the one. He's yelled that a lot before, and I can tell. So a cop, where is his uniform?

What is he doing out here? He draws con. compact Glock from in waistband, points it right at me. Finger on the trigger. I've been to jail. I'm not fucking with weird cops. I dropped the shotgun and raise my hands. Don't shoot. I just want to go.

Please let me go. My voice is cracking and raspy. I haven't used it in some time now. Just wait right there, buddy. I want to talk to you. How long have you been in this area? Only tonight. I don't have a place to live right now, so I'm camping.

I thought this was National Forest. forest. I lied. So did you tear down that web? That was not yours to destroy. Tell me who the fuck you think you are. Guy is red in the face. He's fucking mad and I'm scared. I'm going to get shot for real this time. I know it. No, no, man, I swear. There were no webs when I got here there. I don't know what you're talking about. Well, mister, do you know that those are protected species? That's right. I can have you thrown in prison for the rest of your life, buddy. I'm thinking, what the fuck? Something isn't right here.

I didn't even see a single spider in that web, and this guy is just walking out here with no light in the middle of the night to check on them? In plain clothes? What the fuck, man? I told you I don't know nothing about no damn webs. Can I please just go? Please?

He studies me for a moment and looks back behind him. He turns back around and his face isn't red anymore. You aren't going anywhere, pal. take a seat while I call for backup. Do not move. He waves for me to sit on the far side of the fire, opposite of my tent and my gun. He doesn't know my fanny pack of justice holds 45 caliber freedom. So I'm sitting there, wondering what I should do. Do I try to run, draw on him? What if he really is a cop? And speaking of which, he hasn't once identified himself as anything. So, so, so with, With all due respect, can I ask who you are, sir?

He looks at me with a very strange contempt, like I was a cockroach that crawled on his breakfast. Right now, I am detaining you. Just sit still and don't ask questions. He makes a short phone call with one of those big SAT phones, which makes no sense to me because where we are, you should have cell signal. He sits down on my log and unloads my shotgun. Do you have any other weapons? Just my knife and my hatchet. Knife is in the tent.

Hatchet is beside you in the grass there. All right, son, so what did you say you were doing out here again? Give him the whole story again about needing a place to say and not knowing I was anywhere important. I get ballsy. So what's up with the spiders? Pretty rare, huh? He looks down into the fire. He does not answer.

So you got backup coming? Is it a chopper or an ATV or something? Something. Shut up. Want your soup? Yes, please. He brings the pot over to me and sits it in front of me. No spoon. I don't bother asking. Thanks, I guess. I guess about half an hour goes by. I'm getting antsy. Guy seems totally calm now. He's just looking up at the tree line constantly, looking all around for the spiders, maybe? I don't know. That's a different homeless bro. And I think O.P. is replying to some question, but that I couldn't find out. the question and then he just says that's a different homeless bro i never really encountered other vagrants since there are very few homeless here thankfully i never but fricked i did snook it from time to time though just being honest after a while he stands up he walks left at the tent at the tree line opposite the way he came in and starts looking around craning his neck and his back when his vest goes up i see that he's got mace cuffs and an extra mag all side by side

on his lower back. Shit. Guy. He whistles into the darkness and waves to come forward. Oh, Lord in Heaven. What do you have in store for me now? A shorter, chubbier little guy comes out of the trees. He's dressed just like the first guy, only his hat has a four-seat service patch

and his shirt is white with long sleeves. Same vest and jeans, though. This relaxes me a bit. Maybe it's just a weird sort of uniform. The patch makes me feel better, though. He looked official. He had a short goatee and was wearing a full-sized Glock on a gun belt. He had what looked like a Remitin 700 slung around a shoulder on his back.

So, he tore down the web? Yeah, I think so. That guy? He points at me. That's the one. Why would he do that? He looks at me. Why would you do that?

I didn't. They were gone when I got you here. All right, smart guy. Where is it? Uh, the web. Where is the web? I told you, I don't know. Look, can I just leave? Please. I really just want to leave. I'm freaking the fuck out. This is really wrong. Why don't either of them have flashlights?

The little guy turns to the big guy and says, All right, keep them here until they build a new one, just to be safe. I really don't want to do that. Just do it, all right. Work with me, Andy. Well, all right, you got it, buddy. The short guy just walks off with that. I'm so confused. Did I accidentally eat some kind of brain parasite and I'm tripping nuts right now? What the fuck is wrong with these guys? At this point, I'm fed up with the situation. As soon as Andy turns us back, I'm splitting. I can come back for my stuff later, but that shit isn't worth my life. So we're sitting there, and he's feeding the fire. I think he was trying to get it as bright as possible in there.

As the light grows, I can see him better, and the facade starts coming apart. I see stubble, I see bloodshot eyes with heavy bags, I see mud and dirt on his clothes. This definitely isn't okay. I wait for my chance, for him to crane his neck up again and check the tree line like he's been doing. I see my chance, and I fucking book it. I leap up as quickly as I can and ran in a random direction. I thought I was being sneaky, like it would make it harder for him to follow me. I'm sprinting downhill, although the brambles and briars.

My burns from the web are killing me, but I don't stop. I've got my 45 out, just running blind through the dark. I don't hear him behind me anymore when I hit the water. Good. The creek. I know the creek. I know this area. I grew up here.

I follow it down. I know if I keep following it, there's a cabin my old neighbors used to own. I didn't know if anybody owned it now, but fuck it. Either it'd be an empty place to hold up, or there would be people there that might help or at least serve as witness and de-escalate the situation. I reached the cabin. The windows are black, but there is a beat-up Jeep Wrangler in the dirt driveway, branching off from the access road.

I knock, loudly. I knock again. Nothing. I made the tactical decision to break in. Maybe not that smart of an idea, but I was desperate. I kicked the door, right below the handle with everything I had. I had to kick it three or four times for it to finally kick. cave. I go in and search for a light switch. Nothing, no power. Figures. It's just on a generator.

Nobody must be staying here right now. I get my cheap little plastic flashlight out of my turkey belt and scan the room. I was wrong. Matt's on the floor, cans of food open and laying around. Some old shoes. Some old pants. Some old shirts. A map? Shotgun shells? A radio? A fire. A Foristy service badge? Newspapers with old brown blood on them? A rusty knife, propane tanks, two-liter bottles, aluminum foil, empty boxes of pseudofed. What in the living fuck have I gotten myself into? Now, this isn't one of those cliche stories where I stay the night in the cabin anyway.

I have an inkling of an idea of what's going on. Meth heads. I can deal with. Meth heads are something I understand pretty well. And I tried the radio. Obviously nothing. Dead power source. I know there's a deer stand near the cabin, so I head there.

I climb up. The old wooden slats nailed into the tree. Feel like they're going to give way. I sit up in the stand and I wait. I wasn't going to leave my shit, but I sure as fuck wasn't going back there right now. So I wait. The common Tennessee meth head is much like the vampire. They must leap through to build strength for a long night of tweaking and thieving.

I do my best solid sniggin. impression back to the cabin and peek in the windows from a little ways up the hill. I can see them in there, just sitting on the floor. Both of their mouths are just jabbering, like they're both having conversations with different invisible people. Go in a little closer. I can see my socks covered in paint with cans on the floor around them. Guys go hard in it. I watch them from the windows, pistol in hand. Eventually they look like they've passed out. I can make my move now. I go to the door. They had scooted a chair against it to keep it shut after I kicked it in.

It made a loud noise. They didn't move. Situational awareness is not a known trait of the junkie. I take four seconds looking around the room. It's two room cabin, so it's mostly just one big area. See Graham shotgun. Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?

I weep for you, Gam Gam Gam. I check the tube. Shell is loaded. Where are the rest? Looking around. Shotgun low ready. I'm checking the kitchen cabinets when I hear one of the move. Whip around.

See him seeing me. We both kind of jump. I raise Gam Gam Gammon shotgun. Sputter out, don't. It's more of a gasp than a shout. He looks scared. He's just standing there, arms out. Chubby guys still pass out on the floor.

His expression gives me courage. Finally, I have the upper hand now. Don't fucking move, man. I should kill you. Don't you dare fucking move. Where's my shit? I just want my shit and I'll leave. etc. I'm hyped as fuck on adrenaline. I've never in my life held a gun on somebody. It's a situation

I never once thought I would ever be in. For a moment, I felt my gut clench. It was really weird and totally surreal. How did I get here? What the fuck is all this insanity? A month ago, I had an apartment and a job, and now I'm a strong arm robbing a meth head. Continue. Wait, what? He just kept asking, what? Looks bewildered as fuck. He was probably still feeling that shake and bake meth slash spray paint combo. Chubby guy is stirring. He gets up, but he gets up way too fast for my state of panic. Point and fire gam shotgun. I didn't hit him, and I wasn't really trying to deep down. In my head, I felt like I did, but I do remember a part of me being glad I hadn't shot him. Hole in the floor. Chubby dude is back against the wall,

stretched out with this rock-solid expression of shock. It was like a cartoon almost. You ever ride a roller coaster and it takes a picture of you at a certain point. Everybody's face? It was like that, but just still and motionless, like a statue. That face has stuck with me ever since. Older guy is against the wall too, but he's mumbling really fast and low. Something about he's diabetic and he needs insulin. And something else about chemical attack at the base and having to fall back to the cabin for shelter. What the fuck? My ears are ringing. That was another first, firing a gun while on doors, I'm convinced this permanently damaged my hearing. I never used to have to ask people to repeat themselves before, but I do it constantly now. My head is just swimming. It felt like I had

a migraine. My eyes seemed like they were popping out of my head. Hold shoddy and left hand. Drop 45 and right. Step around their bedding areas and look for weapons. They keep looking for my shells. I picked up his gun belt with that nice clock, but then I dropped it immediately. Fingerprints. fingerprints. These guys obviously weren't forestry servicemen. My guess is they stole the shit from a forestry outposts slash station slash whatever, or they actually robbed some servicemen. If they had robbed them, and we're still here, they either just did it and the gauntlet hasn't come down yet, or they killed them and nobody knew. Either way, it was some seriously fucked up business. While keeping my 45 pointed towards them, I immediately stamp on the part of the

gun belt where my fingertips have been and rubbed it into the floor mat what the meth had asked one more time this takes me by surprise and i n d into the wall between them scaring the shit out of both of them try to play it off as a warning shot demand they cut the shit and tell me what the fuck their deal is with that spider web and let them know i torched the whole fucking thing because this is my forest the wind blows up in the door we got on the floor and everybody walked the dinosaur false alarm folks. The walls are closing in. I don't know how long I have until one of them tries something. I quickly check the other room and find my bag of shells and some of my socks. As I'm leaving, I figure I should probably fuck with them a little bit. You just dropped an undercover FBI agent pal.

I'm coming back and I won't be alone, you dumb motherfucker. Duck the fuck out. I followed the creek some more, this time further up the mountain than I'd ever gone. I found some bushes, covered myself with branches and passed out. I was exhausted, slept throughout the day, in the preceding night. The spring didn't seem as safe anymore, but there are creeks everywhere through here. I stuck with them for a long while, but I always stayed far the fuck away from the road unless I was going into town. Anybody's still reading? Right then, who's having a drink tonight? I might run out and get something real quick. I'm in a comfy mood. So I started to get a routine. I tried to apply for a few jobs when I went into town, but not having an address really put a dent into things. I didn't have the

money for a post office box, so I just sort of existed. I was on the list for day labor, but usually there were so many people showing up that year, I rarely got any work. I got on food stamps, which helped so much. It was tricky picking items that suited my nomadic lifestyle, but I did pretty good. Stuff like dry rice and beans, coffee, I bought a cheapo camp pot from Walmart with my day wages, powdered soups, can tuna, and of course, ramen. The food stamps were really a lifesaver. Don't know if I would have made it without it. One can only eat squirrel for so long. To answer about the drinking. Yeah, I did that. I'm not a shame because I didn't drink every night. As I went long periods of time with literally no money, I was very lonely and living in

in an ever-deterating pop-up tent in the woods. After six months, the tent was mostly duct tape and supplemented with my trusty tarp. Things got pretty rough out there. I'll do another green text soon. I think I'll run out after all. Shouldn't be more than 15 minutes. Keep the thread up, fellas. It's good to have company.

New thread. O.P. again. Explanation for why I ghosted last night is in the old thread. Sorry about that. Trying to avoid the impostors. So I'll start off today during my first winter, approximately five to seven months since my first night outside. So between December and February, we had a bad winter that year. I think 2010 or 2011.

It snowed a lot, but mostly just really cold, icy rain and sludge. I had begun a dugout-style shelter in Cherokee National Forest, probably six to eight miles up the mountain from the street I grew up on in my tiny little backwoods town. What I did was dig out about three to four feet into the side of a hill over the course of a month. I used a cheap, short shovel from tractor supply and my trusty Walmart hatchet for roots. My pub tent was basically in shreds now, but it was better than nothing. I would put the tent against the far wall of the dugout and then stretch my tarp in front and over top of it. It wasn't a badged little shelter. I used thick branches and duct tape to make a shitty U-frame to help support the branches

I eventually added across the top of the tarp. Later on, I added extra leaves slash bramble slash mud to fill in the spaces. It turned into a fairly comfortable winter shelter, though it was still intensely cold at night, and especially in the early mornings when I was just waking up. That cold gets into your bones. You warm up throughout the day, but it's hard to describe, like you're frozen through and partially thaw out during your daily routine,

but you never really cook. This first winter is probably my most desperate time, while homeless. The snow on the mountain was thick enough that walking to town to get supplies seemed impossible, and at the same time, the small game I had been counting on had all but dried up. It was winter, though, so deer were still plentiful. I hadn't hunted one yet at this point. All I had was pick-related. Gam Gam'am's Winchester, 37A and 20 gauge, in a Thoris 1911. Needless to say, these are not good winter hunting options. I had to get a rifle. or a compound bow or something.

My life might depend on it. Waited for a warm day. Snow is melting. Still slushy and shitty though. Make the trek to the road below. This takes longer than usual due to slipping around in the mud. Spent at least three or four hours finally get there. I wrap my shotgun and trash bags and tape.

Climb halfway up a tree and stash it. Try to cover it as best I can with foliage. I do this now because even though open carry of, of unloaded long arms is legal in my unshaven, unkempt, and mostly unwashed state, I was obviously homeless. Police would stop me all the time. Ask where I got it, etc. I was scared it would be confiscated somehow. I've grown a very tight connection to it by now. After all, it was my safety blanket, my little piece of home. It must be protected at all costs. Cannot risk walking around outside of the woods with it. Still CC my sidearm. Illegally, I might add. I may still be able to

legally own my guns, but there was no way I was getting a CCW right now. I know this seems stupid to most folks, but understand the sort of constant unease and fear I was living under. Paranoia had set in long ago, and now it had been cemented into my psyche to the point that I was still feel its effects today. Walk to pawn shop. Friendly with the owner. He is sympathetic to my plight, and we shoot the shit about guns on my trips in. Have $200 saved from day laboring. I'm very good at not spending money now, with what food stamps and having a semi-permanent shelter. Ask him what he can do for me.

Offer him squirrel and rabbit pelts as a bonus. He's annoyed, I can tell, but I'm desperate. He knows it too. Tell you what, keep your belts. Give me the $200, you can shovel my driveway and we'll call it even. hands me a well-used Savage 308. The rifling is pretty bare. Some rust along the barrel, but overall, it'll shoot.

Sorry, guys, had to run out again. You'll have to bear with me. My life is somewhat hectic. Okay, so I've got this 308 now. He threw in a dozen or so loose rounds he had for himself. I was apprehensive about walking back to my stash with it. So open bolt. Hold by the middle and offhand.

Barrel pointed down. avoid the road, walk the train track as far as I could, then kept just inside the tree line, got the stash, wrapped new rifle up and stashed it too. I forgot to mention, the rifle had no sights, no scope, wasn't sure how well I would even be able to hit anything. Head back into town, stock up on more powdered soup and beef jerky with food stamps, waited till pawn shop closed at five, rode with owner to his house, and shoveled his driveway as promised. He brought me some meatloaf and mac and cheese his family had for dinner in

a luminal foil. Tastes like heaven. He ate it while he drove me back to my stash. No fork, no fucks. He's a really good guy, honestly. There are a few good folks in this town. Grab funds. At first, I tried just carrying both, but that got cumbersome. I ended up putting the savage in my duffel and drawing the string around the grip. The stock still stuck out, but fuck it. Woods. It got dark while I was still hiking. I can't accurately describe how miserable it was. Hiking up muddy, sloshy, forest terrain. No trail, just following the creek, which was mostly frozen as well. I needed new boots. I was still wearing the same old steel toes I had before I went to jail. A nice hole had dug into the sole of my right foot, so it was constantly cold and soggy.

After a while, it went numb. Finally made it back to my shelter. Lid a fire with the small amount of wood I kept dry with me under my tarp. That feel when you put newly frostbite in toes next to a warm fire. I'm bundled up. Dickie's jeans on top of sweatpants on top of long johns. Two t-shirts, a hooded sweatshirt, and a big wool overcoat. Cheap jersey work gloves, the kind in three packs of the gas station for like $2, doubled up on them.

Then wool fingerless inserts over that. It's really strange. Some of the times I look back on fondly. This was one of them. By now, stuff like TV and Facebook, microwaves, and even a solid roof were like things of the past. I was getting pretty used to life, enough that now I found myself really enjoying these small comforts. I had bought a few paperbacks and kept getting the two packs of legal pads when I had extra money. I would write things, like dreams I had, or just rants about the world.

A lot of angry, lonely stuff. When a legal pad got full, instead of carrying it around with me, I would wrap it in plastic and bury them. I don't know why I did this. During this time, I was a very paranoid, manic person. I feel like I completely lost my mind on that mountain. Anyway, somewhere in Cherokee National Forest, there are a string of legal pads buried in shallow holes

filled with an increasingly hateful and nihilistic manifesto. I described my rules of living, recipes for various stews and things I'd cooked up using squirrels, raccoons, wild onions, and whatever else I'd scrounged up. I was drinking, too. I never used to drink before I was homeless. But like another poster, and the original thread pointed out,

it's honestly hard to avoid. You search for something, anything to help cope with the loneliness and the bleak, day in, day out monotony of life without any purpose other than survival. I spent a lot of cold, lonely nights clutching gam shotgun,

drinking old crow and reading through, store paperbacks. I had an abridged version of Moby Dick, some hearty boys, Robinson Crusoe, even a few Agatha Christie mysteries. Nothing I particularly enjoy. I just bought them because they were less than a quarter. After the sunset every night, there was nothing more that could be done. So you just sit and read and drink. I drink hot whiskey a lot. Hot whiskey. Sometimes I still crave it. I would mix it with a little water and leave it on the fire in my coffee pot until it got good and steamy and drank it down. It was very soothing. Whiskey already warms you up, but hot whiskey warms up your soul. It's the thing I look forward to most during my daily toils. The winter was

very quiet. No birds, obviously. Most of the wildlife was tucked away hibernating. It got unnerving a lot. The silence. If I wasn't hunting, I would walk around and sing loose. little songs, just making things up, about the trees I saw or stuff I remembered from the past. The coat I wore was ill-fitting. I didn't really have a good winter parka before I went to jail, so I had to get the warmest-looking thing that fit at the Salvation Army. It was a woman's coat, but it was made for a very large woman, one of those big, long, thick-grain, black-chequered coats, something you might see an overweight 70-year-old woman at churchware. It had some kind of fake pearl embroidery around the label.

I was beyond worrying about how I looked, though. I had to have been quite a sight, though, like I killed an old lady and took her clothes. My mossy old turkey belt had seen better days. I used two belts. One, an actual leather belt. The other was a fleece belt from a bathroom I found on the side of the road one day. I secured them around the back and front of the belt.

And looped them around my shoulders, so it was like a makeshift pouch carrier. I had added a few things to it. One was a pouch I found that looked like. like it was for one of those big plastic cameras from the 90s. And I had a couple Crown Royal Royale bags I got out of the trash tied to it that I kept change. Little rocks, I kept neat looking rocks, summy, just any little thing I wanted to keep. I tried to keep my pockets empty where I layered my pants. And I kept anything I thought could have been used. Lots of stuff ended up being useless. And I realized now I was basically hoarding forest trash. I feel like I'm

rambling, but aside from the sparse moments of panic, like the gunplay that I described to you in the last thread, the slow, dredging winters were the absolute worst. If I can communicate anything about the homeless backwards experience, it's the isolation and desperation. People in town will shun you for the most part, and you go days, often weeks, without ever speaking to another human. I felt more like an animal of some kind than a man. wearing a man's skin, stalking the woods in an endless effort to consume and survive. I kept thinking, just got to get that deer. Then I can start getting things together. Just got to get to town. Get some supplies. Then I can pick myself up. I lied to myself in this way. I was constantly

trying to convince myself that after just a little while longer, things will go back to normal and I'll be a regular guy again. If I wasn't doing this, then I was wrapped up and fantasy is about thriving out here. I'll build a cabin, I said. I'll build a nice cabin with a fireplace and a cozy little window and I'll hunt and I'll fish and never have to go back to that wretched society. In fact, I didn't want to go back. I chose this. This is how I want to live. I'm doing fine. Doing great. I'm the happiest I've ever been, etc. It was all bullshit. But again, anything for that little ounce of comfort. I thought of about S-word sometimes too. During that awful winter, when I let myself go and drank half a bottle,

I was very conservative with my liquor. It was a precious thing that must be savored. I would lay back in the dark, under my tarp, and think about committing S-word, Cobain style, and ending it. What difference would it make? I thought about my body freezing up until the spring. When the bears wake up and they'd gnaw in my freezer burnt body. Maybe some hunters or something would find me. Festering and bloated under a tarp in the summer heat. The frees would make it hard to discover who I am. Why bother?

The hunters I invented would say, he's obviously nobody. Just leave him for the animals, they'd say. My body would decay and the forest could just have me. I would be here forever. It was comforting and horrifying at the same time. Luckily, I never got so dark as to do it. I have been fortunate in having a strong sense of survival instilled in me from a young age.

My grandparents were both farmers until the last 10 or so years of their lives. They had to sell it a long time ago. Couldn't keep up with the payments and moved to a cheaper house with a small yard. My grandfather died years before my grandmother did. I'd like to tell you about my strong, awesome granddad teaching me to shoot and hunt. But honestly, that was all grandma. Grandpa was from Baltimore. He joined the Marines but never went to war.

met my grandmother while she was visiting some relatives there, and they ended up getting hitched. They moved here because she had already had some land. She's was a country girl, and I mean the old school kind. She slaughtered most of the animals, cleaned and cooked them. He worked for Geico in the 80s, working on their old DOS systems. Then at the local newspaper on the printing press until his retirement, she stayed home and raised me. We would shoot rabbits that got into her crops.

She showed me how to skin and cook them, how to stretch and clean furs for preservation. I really love that farm. Regretfully, they had taken a mortgage out on it to help with money and eventually fell behind. My extended family on my grandfather's side sort of bled them dry. Always borrowing but never going back. Car trouble, need groceries, short on rent, ask Gam Gam Gam. She'd give you the shirt off her back. Gam Gam Gam Gam died two years before.

before I became homeless. She had a stroke and spent an agonizing month and a half between hospitals and home. I had to quit my job to stay home and care for her. I'm rambling again. Rest in peace, Graham. One day, I'll give your shotgun to my son. So it's been a few months into the winter, and spring is starting to show. In the afternoons, when the sun is high, it got to be in the low to mid-50s. It was warmer, farther down the mountain. But I grew more and more resentful of the world below every day. So I was going down into town as little as possible, once or twice a month tops. I didn't have a hunting license, and deer season was well over at this point. I had done well with a dozen 308 rounds I had acquired before. I had probably three or four left now,

so I had to hunt very carefully. I didn't have sights on my rifle, so what I would do was sit cross-legged in a bushel day. My clothes were caked in mud, and I had given up trying to wash myself for the winter. Creek is far too cold. I wasn't worried about my scent. Wait there. All day. I'd bring a snack and sometimes a book. Sometimes some whiskey. All dependent on my mood and the weather. I kept dry corn now to use as bait. Sprinkle it a few yards from where I am. Doe approaches. Small. Probably 50 pounds, give or take. Just a baby. A delicious baby. Aim. I can do okay from small distances. but I've only been able to fire this rifle maybe eight times. Not a lot of room for practice, and again, no sights.

I aimed for her heart. Got her neck. You know what happens. She takes off thick drops of blood streaming on the cold ground as she ran. She's bleeding heavily. I know she won't be able to run long. Start following the trail. It's not hard.

Snow is still hanging around and it's still cold enough that the blood keeps up a good stream for a while. Come into a clearing. I see her laying down across the field. She's bleeding and convulsing. Dying. I think about how scared she must be. I'm sorry I had to do it this way. I would have liked to kill you clean, but it can't be avoided now.

I'm walking across the field, debating on if I should slit her throat or just put a 45 in her head and be done. Probably the knife. Ammunition must be conserved. Bang. What? bang. Though it was echoing a bit, so I knew they had some distance.

It wasn't until the second time that I realized I was being shot at. I don't know how close you have to be to a bullet to hear it whistling past you, but I didn't want to find out. I heard the bullets first, the shot second. Freeze for a moment. No, f-t, just a bang this time.

Dive into the brambles. Scramble behind a tree. That feeling when I don't even know which way they are shooting from. That feeling when I could be sitting here in full view. Wait for 20 seconds. 30 seconds. Heart is pounding.

Why is somebody shooting at me? Somebody mad about me poaching? Somebody else is poaching? And they want me kill? It's quiet for a while. I try my best and peek around the tree line. I see orange in the distance. It's behind the tree line to the clearing, but I saw it move.

Time to test if they are still watching. Hop from my tree to adjacent tree. peek out and look muzzle flash bang holy shit okay okay okay okay what do I do

sprint forwards away from the grove in front of another tree wait for noise nothing I don't know if the person is advancing or waiting did he see me pull back

does he know where I am I'm sure as fuck not peeking my head around the corner again and catching a bullet sprint forward again I'm heading downhill slide until a little embankment

caused by tree roots in the mud. My foot is unusually wet. The sole of my boot has come off halfway. Perfect. I hear movement behind me. Is it him? Deliberate steps. Coming through the brush.

Decide to call out. I don't know who the fuck you are, but I'm armed and I'll shoot. Just back off. You can have the damn deer. I don't care. Silence. Switch my rifle into my duffel.

Grab gam Shoddy. Thumb back the hammer. I hear footsteps. again. He's going to have to come around the embankment or pop up above me. For him to get at me. Either way, he'll have to be close unless he backtracks and makes a wide flank. Silence again. Was he retreating? Did he know I was armed before I just told him? Waiting again. I feel mildly defensible here. I'm too scared to try to run just yet. Patience. Timing has to be just right, I told myself. Remember the BB gun wars with your cousin. Pretend is again.

game. Don't shit your pants. Branches snapping to the far left of me. Look over. Polyester camo puff vest and a hunter's orange beanie. Are you serious? I'm not getting flanked by Elmer Fudd. Scramble forward. As I'm running the 30 to 40 feet between me and the next tree, I fire a birdshot in his general direction. Hit the tree hard, sweating in the cold. Guy shouts out. I must have peppered him a little. Probably not enough to really do any damage. But I hope I at least fucked him up a little bit. Aject shell. Grab one out of the baked turkey pouch and load it.

Don't even look at what it is. Could be bird. Could be buck. I had already used up the few slugs I had. My shells were starting to run thin since it's my primary hunting gun. Small game in that. Close the breach and listen. Bang, bang, bang.

Three shots with a few seconds in between. Must be using a bolt action of some kind. Didn't even get a look at his rifle yet. I know he can't see me or hit me. from here. If he is still where he was. I haven't heard a move, so I assume he still is. Must be trying to scare me out. Not this guy. Swat down. Try to think up my next move. He's going to be mad now that I tagged him, since he's clearly not giving up. I can still hear that poor deer crying from the yards away. Look around. I see another low hill that looks like a good cover. Across the incline,

probably seven to 80 yards. Steal myself. Say a silent prayer to force. scads and set off sprinting, making good distance, trying to zigzag, but mostly just trying to get to cover as quickly as possible. He doesn't fire me while I'm moving, and I don't look back. Just get to that hill. The sole of my boot is flapping around beneath me. My four pairs of socks are soaked through, and I'm getting stabbed by sticks and rocks. Try to pretend I'm Bruce Willis and die hard. Reach the little hill, slide down the incline, and lay there prone. My whole body is soaked now. I'm very, very cold. The adrenaline is keeping me warm for now, but I know I have to get out of these wet clothes soon, or I could very well freeze to death. Wind is harsh. It's coming opposite

me, up my back, crashing with the hill. I'm shivering despite my sweating brow. Crawl up a little so I can get a peek out from the hill. Nothing. I waited on that hill for what seemed like hours, but was in reality maybe 20 to 30 minutes. Until the cold. got to me, and I had to move. I made it back home very slowly. I stayed in the brush and avoided any open areas. Every little noise sent me ducking from an invisible assailant. By the time I got back, I was absolutely frigid. I stripped down and changed clothes. Though my coats and most of my good winter things were soaked, I just used heavy layers of long-sleeved cotton shirts, pajama pants, and my one other pair of jeans. The fire couldn't get hot enough for me.

never found out what was up with that guy. My guess is it was an impulse thing. I know. I was going to expand on that a little. Several more people will attempt to kill me in some fashion or another because I got into government housing. When you were very absolutely homeless, people take shots at you because they know they are likely to get away with it. I think this guy was just out illegally hunting, saw me, and thoughts, hey, I wonder what it's like. I don't know. I don't like to guess that people motives, but I do know that when I would walk into town, lots of cars would swerve and try to hit me or just not give me any room to walk on the road and send me jumping for the ditch. People treat you like shit, like something that doesn't matter.

And the archive that I got this story from kind of screwed up the next post and also the archive. I got this from someone wrote this on the, I did not write this, but the person who who archived it, did write this on there. So that's why. I'll try my best to read it. It might be a little bit hard, but just give me some patience. But anyways, the OP continued saying, one more, and I'll probably hop off for a while. All right, so after the Hunter incident, my main goal was getting new boots.

I had to keep using up good duct tape to tape mine together where it came apart while I was running. Weather is starting to clear up, but it's still pretty good. cold and rainy. Can't have a soggy foot all the time. Grocery backliners only get you so far. Went into town a week after the incident. When I felt less paranoid and ready to travel. I got some leather boots. I don't know what kind they were. No brand, but they turned out great. They were waterproof. Just leather. The tongue was connected on either side, kept everything out. They aren't warm at all, though. Just unlined leather, with three or four pairs of socks, though they do perfectly. I still have these boots today, though I don't wear them very often.

Paid $15 at Salvation Army, great buy. After this purchase, I had about $6 left, and it wasn't likely to get any more until landscaping season came around. And then this is where they wrote it, so I'm going to try my best to, yeah, read this. I remember I thought to pack some cigarettes. I hadn't smoked since that first night. It felt like splurging on a great. gourmet dinner or something. It's the first thing I bought that I didn't consider essential. Yes, at the time I considered my liquor essential. Sue me. I joked around one night outside at the convenience store. It was heaven. I coughed like I was smoking for the first time again. Awful habit, I know. Just got it on a whim, though. What else could I do with $6 anyways? Bought a can of

Coke and just sat in the front of the store's bathroom and then went on to the outside. So I guess nobody noticed me going to the bathroom drinking a can of Coke. I don't want to sit inside even though the store had a little diner style thing. Two little booths and something else I can't read. They served fried chicken and burgers. That kind of thing always smelled so good. Good Lord, I missed good old American greasy fast food. I can smell it from the bathroom. I pretended I was sitting inside, eating like a regular person. I wasn't really sleeping much in those days. A few hours, twice a night, my sense of time was really whacked out.

And I was always unsure what day or month it was. That bathroom sure was nice, though. It was clean, just a few sharpied scribbles on the wall around the toilet. There was a door with a lock that I was in control of for now. It was like a castle. I wanted to just stay there forever. I actually ended up taking a short nap there. I dozed off unintentionally while drinking my Coke.

Luckily, nobody had tried to come in. I don't think I was out long. I dreamed out inside my old apartment. When I woke up, I got an idea to do a very dumb thing. I wanted a night. One good night inside with heats and a light. That's what I need, I told myself. Just one night to recharge.

If I get this one night, I'll have these strength to get my life together again. It was a grandiose delusion, but it honestly somehow made sense at the time. Do this thing, and it'll solve every one of your problems. I decided to either hide or break in later and spend a night in this bathroom. Story in green text follows. Looking around bathroom for hiding spots, no cabinet, but the ceiling was those big officey-looking ones, with the little holes that make it look like a cracker. I moved one of the panels, some wiring,

rat poison, and about two feet of space. Test the strength. Stuff my duffle up there. Seems okay. The panels definitely won't hold me, and I doubted the thin wires suspending it from the roof would do much good either. Cheap flashlight. Look around.

I found load-buried supports farther away, but without the toilet or sink to stand on, I couldn't really just climb up there. Replace tile, leave bag. Check outside. Nobody there. It's evening. The store closes at 9.

I have a few hours. Discreetly leave. I don't know if the staff knew I went in there or not. Look around. I pulled a wobbly wicker chair out of a dumpster across the road, left it in the tree line between properties, hung out of the library for a couple hours. Didn't check Facebook.

Brows K and Surviolist Forum. 7 o'clock. Library closes. Go back and grab the chair. Carry it as nonchalantly as possible up the road past the store. then doubled back and set it behind the building. Go inside the store. Asked to use the phone. I called my day labor place even though I knew they were closed, left a message about needing something now. Just wanted an excuse to go in and check out if anybody was shopping. Go back outside. Around the corner.

Check the bathroom. Empty. Around the next corner and grabbed the chair. Took it in the bathroom. I climbed on the toilet and got my bag. Then used the chair to get up to the support beam. Stuff the bag up again. Open it and fish out two shirts. Tie these shirts to the beam, letting them hang down. Take the chair outside, toss it in the weeds. Back to the bathroom. I twisted these shirts up until they were as rope-like as possible and used them to hoist myself high enough that I could grab the beam and climb up. In the rafters, my chest is on the big beam, and my arms and legs are keeping balance on these small flimsy ones. I slide the tile back in place and just waited. It was seven when I left the library. Store closed at night. I had used probably

an hour and a half getting to and from the library and setting everything up, so I estimated I had somewhere between 45 minutes to wait, got real uncomfortable. I wanted to change position. The beam was digging into my chest on either side, so it wasn't much wider than an average smartphone. Arms are cramping. I'm sweating. Why didn't I take my coat off? The door opens. Moment. of truth. I listen to them cleaning up. They take the trash and leave. I hear the lock clicking shut. My time has come. Move the panel. Bending my arm felt great. Cautiously peek out. All seems well. Descend from my shroud of darkness. Nice. I sat for a while, just looking around, enjoying the pleasantness of both privacy and comfort. I turn the sink on and let the water get really hot.

and washed my face with hand soap. Never felt so clean. I had turned the light back on, so I was concerned about somebody seeing it under the door, so I stuffed clothes around the bottom of the door. Feeling safe, I sat back and started reading Murder on the Orient Express.

Not a bad book, kind of fruity, but not bad at all. I love the old time you back and forth. Raw dogging spam out of the cam with pocket knife. Feel like a pimp. What's this in my duffel? Why, it's General Grant, and his never-ending flask of old crow.

Well, don't mind if I do, General. What a lovely evening this has turned out to be. Proceed to get drunk. Reading Agatha Christie and having conversations with the astute inspector, Hercule Perot. This, as it turns out, was not a very good idea. Wake up to the sound of the lock turning. Morning shift has arrived. Older woman.

Probably 45 or so. She screams. I scream. She starts calling the cops. She's calling the cops. I'm a homeless man with an empty bottle of liquor, a concealed, two if you count my knife, weapons, and absolutely no excuse as to what I'm doing. Grab my duffel, forgot my book, shit, charge.

I wasn't trying to hurt her at all. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. Shove her aside. Make sure to smack the phone out of her hand. Shout sorry as I'm running away. Open bag in hand and holding up my pants. I had unbuckled my belt in my drunken state of comfort. retreat to the woods.

Never go to that convenience store again. Follow up. I was going to make another green text, but I'm cooking dinner, so I'm going to wrap it up a little quicker. I encountered that woman again two weeks later when I went back into town. She saw me from across the street, pointed at me, and started shouting, You, you stop, you hit me. I tried to play dumb, but I knew it wouldn't work, so I sped up and kept walking.

She followed me away and got her phone out. Shit, she was calling the cops. That's perfect. I was pretty sure they didn't have anything really on me, but who knows? To nobody's surprise, I was picked up a few hours later going back towards the woods. The cops were okay. They knew that I stayed in the bathroom, but I don't think they cared too much. They said they were looking for the guy because the woman's phone is broken and she was pissed.

I'd buy her new phone if I knew how to get a hold of her. But it's been real, you guys. I'm out for now. maybe more some other time. I'll be checking on the thread every now and then if you guys want to shoot the shit a little. But as far as typing these long stories, this is enough for my tired fingers today.

And before we go into the next one, I really just want to say I really enjoyed that story. I mean, it wasn't like a conventionally scary story, but I thought it was a good story. I thought it was a good 4chan threat. I mean, there were parts where it was almost being killed.

I mean, and like, I mean, the meth heads and staying out in the woods. I feel like it was a very honest kind of story. I thought it was a great story, even though it might not be conventionally horrifying, so to say. I thought it was a kind of creepy in a way, 4chan thread. I mean, just kind of disturbing in a weird way.

I don't know if you guys got that kind of vibe like I did, but I mean, hopefully you enjoyed that story. I really enjoyed it as well. And hopefully O.P. is doing better now. And yeah, leave your comments down below which you thought about that one and on to the next one. Lockdown in a woods.

Not going to green text because I'm bad at it. Peak meme flu locked down. I got stir crazy sitting around all day. Collecting unemployment like a fucking leech so I decided to head in a woods. I live in a deep blue state so I figured my chances of running into anyone out there were slimmer than usual.

My intention was to camp out for a week or so and relax. hike around. Do anything but sit inside all day like everyone else in the state. I drove the three hours to my favorite national forest. Up an old logging road. I took my M1 carbine, pick-related, different trip, and Remington 870 Magnum. The drive-up was really nice since there was no one on the road and gas was super cheap. I got there in record time. I set up camp about an hour off the main road. I wasn't exactly super deep, but I was deep enough in a woods to be satisfied. The first night was normal.

The second night I woke up at around 2 a.m. to silence. And then what sounded like a blood-curdling shriek, which my rational brain told me was a mountain line about two seconds later. It must have screamed before and woken me up. I listened intently for a few minutes, but didn't hear it again and fell back asleep. The next day was weird. The forest was silent.

Previously, there had been birds singing, bugs chirping, wind in the trees, etc. Now, everything was just still and silent in the cold morning air. I just got some coffee started and tried not to think about it. Eventually, the day warmed up, and yet the sound didn't return. I started to think maybe that mountain line was still in the area. Woods tend to go silent when there's a predator nearby. but that didn't explain the complete lack of wind. The air felt as stagnant as a hot car, except it was 40 degrees out.

I decided to have a look around. I hadn't gone more than half a mile in any direction away from camp since I'd gotten there. I threw on a jacket, in my Alice LBE, I had rigged with M1 carbine mag pouches, that kind of worked. I went in the direction I remember the noise coming from the previous night, hiking cross-country. The woods were silent the whole way. Hell, I didn't even hear any airplanes fly overhead, and this was a pretty high traffic area. I hiked across a largest clearing with scattered groups of trees when I noticed something odd. A couple of the pines were missing all of their limbs.

They weren't charred from a wildfire, but looked as though they'd been torn off. They stood around 20 yards apart, jutting skyward, almost like a gate. I thought it was kind of weird, but chalked it up to loggers or something. When I crossed the gate, it felt like a switch was flicked. I was suddenly hit with a wall of anxiety, the kind I hadn't felt since I was a teenager. I felt the adrenaline rush of someone being mugged. My knees threatened to buckle, and I felt cold sweat run down the hollow of my back. I was shocked and confused at my reaction, but took a moment to collect myself before advancing,

unslinging my rifle and keeping it in the low ready, mostly to bring myself comfort. I wouldn't walk 30 more yards before coming across a deer carcass that had been absolutely eviscerated. It looked like it had been hit by a truck, then run over by a whole convoy, except it was in the middle of the forest nowhere near a road. The area reeked of death. I decided it was time to head back to camp. I figured I'd confirm the presence of a cougar and considered moving camp. Getting tired, going to give the abridged ending and wrap it up so I can go to bed. I made my way back to camp a little more quickly than I had left, scanning my surroundings, far more alert than before. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn't help but feel a bit scared.

Everything was adding up to spell something weird. First, the complete lack of noise that was still present, or rather not pleasant, than the trees, then the strange anxiety, and now the mutilated deer, I was creeped out. Something wasn't quite right. As I crested a ridge, I was greeted with a site that sent a spike of adrenaline through my system. Another deer carcass. Right where I'd had hiked through before. I was sure this wasn't here before. This one looked as bad as the last with the sickening addition of one of its antlers speared through its eye socket. I decided right there that I'd be cutting my trip short. I hauled ass back to camp, tore down everything as quickly as possible,

made my way down the shitty logging roads as quickly as I could without fucking my suspension up and left. I'm still not really sure what was going on there. I'm not going to pull that bullshit you always see on here and say, I'm not a believer in the paranormal because that's bullshit. I totally am. But I'd like to exhaust my rational explanations first. I really want to believe it was just a mountain lion. And I just didn't notice the second carcass somehow,

but it just doesn't make sense. But would calling it a skinwalker be a reach? I've been on this board too long and read too many nopithrides. Am I just overthinking it? I guess I'll never know. but it hasn't stopped me from going back to that same forest to fuck around in the woods, just never alone anymore. And all right, guys, that wraps up some horrifying 4chan threads.

I hope you guys enjoyed this. And to be honest, it's fun. It's becoming a lot harder to find these long, good 4chan threads. I mean, I love these videos. I absolutely love reading them. These stories are always great. They're scary. I mean, the house sitting story was, like I said earlier,

downright the scariest story I've ever read. And then the second story with the phone call center. Oh my God. Those two stories really are truly the most disturbing stories I've ever read. And then the last two stories, they were just kind of creepy, good stories. I hope you enjoy this video, though. I mean, it was two hours long. So you guys have been sticking around for a while and I appreciate that.

Would you like to see, you know, more stories? Like, are you guys fine with like 10 stories in a video? or do you just like two really long good ones? I mean, I prefer the long good ones, but they're hard to find, so I'll try my best. But I appreciate you guys watching at the end. It helps more than you know.

And please like the video and subscribe to the channel. That also helps more than you know. And subscribe to the Patreon, $5 a month. It's totally okay if you can't, but yeah, that supports me. And it also gives you tons and tons of extra content, weekly Q&A slash a podcast, and early access to all.

videos, uncensored videos, all that jazz. So yeah, feel free to join that if you, you know, have the means to do so, but no worries if not. Thank you guys for watching to the end of the video. You guys are the best, and this is Snook, and I'll see you next time. Bye.