Snook - Sinister Reddit Stories

Episode Date: June 21, 2026

Thank you guys for listening! These were some of the scariest and weirdest stories I have ever read! Let me know if you would like to see more content like this in the future! But they are all amazing, so make sure to watch the whole vid! Thanks for watching, like and subscribe! 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. NEXT SUB GOAL - 100,000 followers I love you. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to another Reddit Stories video. You guys keep asking for more and more of these videos, so here we are doing another one. So make sure to sit back, relax, and if you're new here, subscribe, because it's the channel's goal to be at 250,000 subscribers by the end of the year. So why not join the community and subscribe? And all right, anyways, let's get into the first story. There's something in the walls. I think I was around six years old. When I started to know, is something felt unusual about our family home. My parents told me we had moved when I was a baby, so it's been the only place I recall as being home, but it never quite felt right. I would go to friends' homes after school or at weekends for birthday parties, and the atmosphere just felt

so different in comparison to when I was home. They're hung in air of what I would describe as oppressive malevolence in our home, but as a child that felt like fear. And I remember trying to articulate this cloying, crushing, almost sinister presence to my parents all those years ago, but it was casually disregarded as an overstimulated child's imagination. As I grew older, I felt a greater sense of uneas at home and found myself staying out with friends, doing whatever I could to prolong my time away before I had to come back. The feeling of anxiety and paranoia would rise back to the surface the closer I go to home. You see, it felt like I was being watched. Like there was something in the home monitoring my every action. This wasn't a,

oh, my parents could walk in at any moment, teenager level of paranoia. No, this was hairs, standing on end, goosebumps, fight or flight instincts kicking into overdrive. As if my body and mind were sounding the alarm to get out and run. But after searching every room on several occasions, there was never anything out of place. I continued to raise my concerns with my parents, but it fell on deaf ears. They chalked it up to me as acting out as teenagers typically do. They had bigger issues as I could see the crack starting to show in their marriage, eventually becoming all-encompassing,

as arguments ruptured around the home and their relationship began to crumble, all while the ever-present feeling of malevolence continued to hang in the air. As time went on, their relationship completely broke down. My mother has become a recluse, quit her job, and spent most days locked away in the spare room, only emerging to get food, with barely any acknowledgement of mine or my father's existence. My father had become bitter and distant, a hollow shell of his former self, except for the infrequent outbursts of emotions swaying from anger to desperate pleading whenever he and my mom crossed paths in the kitchen.

The strange thing is during this time, the house felt almost normal. The dread and paranoia I'd felt before had almost disappeared but had been replaced by the anguish that comes with being in the middle of a family falling apart. It didn't last too long, though, as my mother stopped emerging from the spare room entirely, and the silence in the house was frequently punctured with the thunderous knocks of my father's fist on the spare room door, followed by his pleas for my mother to come out and eat, then the sorrowful sobbing of a broken man heading back to his room. I hated it. I hated being in the middle of it all and seeing the people I loved, my parents, my world, crumbling away. All while I wasn't even pinging on their radar. I felt invisible. In such a short space of time, my father had been completely despondent, barely registering my presence despite my protests. My mother hasn't been seen for days, and he had stopped knocking on her door. I tried

knocking myself, pleading with her to come out and eat, but was met with silence each time. After several attempts across multiple days, my father screamed at me to leave her alone. One week had passed, and it felt like time had come to a standstill in the house. My father stopped going to work, and like my mother, had started to confine himself to his bedroom. The air felt stagnant, and the silence was almost suffocating. I spent a lot of time out of the house seeking solace and my friends and their families, too ashamed to admit what was going on at home, diverting questions over lunch to other topics of conversation. I was not prepared for the eighth day.

I woke up in the middle of the night and immediately felt it. The rising dread, the pervasive feeling of being watched. My throat tightened and my pulse began to quicken as the fear grasped my mind like an ironed vice. I felt like I was six again, unable to truly convey and comprehend the internal terror I was going through. my fight or flight instincts screaming. I tried to force the feelings back and put my pillow over my head, but my mind was racing. And the surging feeling that something sinister didn't want me to sleep was destroying any chance of me getting rest. I decided to get up and see if going outside would help clear my mind.

It was only after I climbed out of bed and my eyes had adjusted to the darkness that I noticed the smell. There was a rancid, foul stench in the air, like rotting food left out in the sun to fester in the heat. I accidentally took a breath, and the smell clung in my throat, causing me to cough and wretch and disgust. I grabbed my nearby shirt and put it over my mouth and nose to act like a makeshift of mask, but it was of minimal effect against the invasive stench. I went into the hallway to see if I could try and figure out the source of the foul odor and notice the doors to both the spare bedroom and my parents' room were open. I yelled my parents' names into the darkness but was met with silence,

so I cautiously walked down the hallway to the spare room, first to see if my mother was still there and simply was in a deep sleep. As I got closer to the room, my hair began to stand on an end as the feeling of dread became more and more intense. I reached the doorway, peered into the dark, and was hit with an even more intense odor, rotten food. No, rotten flesh. I reached for the light switch, fumbling in the darkness to find it.

Half choking on the smell, which was seeping through my makeshift mask, I managed to find the switch and the room was bathed in light illuminating the true horror before me. She, my mother, was in the wall. Her body has become fused with the wall of the house, contorted and crumpled as if she was being slowly devoured. Her face and what remaining limbs could be seen protruding. Were gaunt and pale. Her cheeks sunk in and eyes hollow as if all moisture had been drawn from her. Her face held an expression of pure anguish, misshapen and stretched into a ghastly visage, violently screaming without the sound.

Tears clouded my view as I fell back into the hallway and a wave of nausea hit me. My mind couldn't comprehend the horror I just saw. That was my mother who only a few days. days ago, before was fine. But now, I righted myself, pushing back my unraveling thoughts and tried to regain my composure. Whatever happened was not natural, and the being or entity that caused it may still be present. A chill ran down my spine as the next thought slipped into my mind. Father. I turned around and walked further down the hallway to my parents' bedroom and was met with the same disgusting smell. My heart sank as I reached for the light switch. He was on

the floor, but only half of his body was visible. For anything below his waist was scattered in the walls, I looked up to the ceiling and saw Vesera and rotten flesh poking out of the cracks above. What was once a magnolia room was covered in dark red and brown stains with scraps of flesh and shards of bone poking out of the walls. His neck was craned at an inhuman angle, forcing his head to look towards the ceiling, and like my mother, he was holding an expression of pure contorted agony. My mind was on the brink of collapse. I turned to leave of the room when I saw he had one outstretched arm which appeared to be pointing to something on the floor. I looked over from the doorway, paralyzed with fear, and unable to convince myself to move closer, but managed to make out

what looked like a message, scratched into the floor under his bloody fingernails. Burn it all before it feeds. I didn't have to be told twice. Adrenaline surged through my body, shaking me free from shackles of fear and driving me into action. I rushed back into the hallway and headed downstairs to the kitchen. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the air felt heavy, and the feeling of being watched became even more pervasive. My heart was racing, and I could swear I could see the walls rippling and eutulating, but each time my eyes tried to focus on a particular point, all I could see was darkness. It felt like whatever this entity was, it was becoming aware of my plans, and as I reached the kitchen, my body started to slow down.

I was feeling drained, both emotionally and physically. My mind crumpling under the stress and all I had seen. My body fighting back the waves was nausea, in the cycles of adrenaline surging and dumping, causing my muscles to cramp. Through my addled mind, it was starting to make sense. Whatever this thing was, it influenced and fit on emotions. Breaking people down, enough to feed on them physically, and I was running out of energy and time.

advantage of another wave of adrenaline and ran to a kitchen drawer, frantically fumbling in the dark and so my hand clasped around a box of matches. I struck several matches setting fire to the curtains above the kitchen sink. The flames began to slowly crawl up the curtains and spread to the nearby cabinets on the wall. A blood-curdling shriek reverberated around the house as the flame started to engulf the walls and smoke plumed across the kitchen ceiling. The wall started to pulsate violently, and I could hear the foundations creaking and feel it rumbling beneath my feet. The shriek kicked my fight and flight drive fully into flight, and I ran out of the kitchen at the main hall towards the door. The wall shook more violently, the closer I got to the door

and the mix of smoke and rancid, rotten flesh caught in my throat making me almost vomit, but I managed to compose myself and reached the front door. My hand was on the handle when I heard a voice from behind me. Where are you going, my love? It's late and you're father needs you. My mind nearly faltered, but I pushed the door open and ran outside to hear a scream of anger erupt from the house. Whatever this being was, it wanted me to stay and perish with it. But I ran down the street and didn't look back. My life as I knew it was over, and I had to start again somewhere new. After all, who would believe me if I told them what happened that night? I still get nightmares about what happened several years ago. I looked online at the local newspapers,

and it was determined to be a horrible accident. A tragic house fire killed a family of three with no suspected foul play. The emergency services who attended the scene couldn't recover all the bones of the bodies, but had chalked it up to the remains being scattered and buried in the debris as the house collapsed in the fire. The reason I've wrote all of this is to serve as a warning. If you ever visit somewhere and you don't feel right, like someone is watching you and your brain and body are screaming out, telling you to run, listen, before it's too late.

I'm a search and rescue officer for the U.S. Forest Service. I have some stories to tell. I wasn't sure where else to post these stories, so I figured I'd share them here. I've been an S-A-R officer for a few years now, and along the way, I've seen some things that I think you guys will be interested in. I have a pretty good track record for finding missing people.

Most of the time they just want. wander off a path or slip down a small cliff, and they can't find their way back. The majority of them have heard the old stay where you are thing, and they don't wander far. But I've had two cases where that didn't happen. Both bother me a lot, and I use them as motivation to search even harder on the missing persons cases I get called on. The first was a little boy who was out bury-picking with his parents. He and his sister were together, and both of them went missing. around the same time. Their parents lost sight of them for a few seconds, and in that time, both the kids apparently wandered off. When their parents couldn't find them, they called us,

and we came out to search the area. We found the daughter pretty quickly, and when we asked where her brother was, she told us that he'd been taken away by the bear man. She said he gave her berries and told her to stay quiet, that he wanted to play with her brother for a while. The last she saw of her brother, he was riding on the shoulders of the bear man and seemed calm. Of course, our first thought was abduction, but we never found a trace of another human being in that area. The little girl was so incessant that he wasn't a normal man, but that it was tall and covered in hair like a bear and that he had a weird face. We searched that area for weeks. It was one of the longest calls I've ever been on, but we never found a single trace of that kid.

The other was a young woman who was out hiking with her mom and grandpa. According to the mother, her daughter had climbed up a tree to get a better view of the forest, and she'd never come back down. They waited at the base of the tree for hours, calling her name, before they called for help. Again, we searched everywhere, and we never found a trace of her. I have no idea where she could have possibly gone, because neither her mother or grandpa, saw her come down. A few times I've been out on my own, searching with a canine,

and they've tried to lead me straight up cliffs, not hills, not even rock faces, straight, sheer cliffs with no possible handholds. It's always baffling, and in those cases we usually find the person on the other side of the cliff or miles away from where the canine has led us. I'm sure there's an explanation, but it's sort of strange. One particularly sad case involved the recovery of a body. A nine-year-old girl fell down an embankment and got impaled on a dead tree at the base. It was a complete freak accident, but I'll never forget to sound her mother made when we told her what had happened.

She saw the body bag being loaded into the ambulance, and she let out the most haunting, heartbroken whale I've ever heard. It was like her whole life was crashing down around her, and a part of her. her had died with her daughter. I heard from another S-A-R officer that she committed S-word a few weeks after it happened. She couldn't live with the loss of her daughter. I was teamed up with another S-A-R officer because we'd received reports of bears in the area. We were looking for a guy who hadn't come home from a climbing trip when he was supposed to, and we ended up having to do some serious climbing to get where we figured he'd be. We found him trapped in a small crevasse with a broken leg. It was not pleasant. He'd been there for almost two days, and his leg was very obviously infected.

We were able to get him into the chopper, and I heard from one of the EMTs that the guy was absolutely inconsolable. He kept talking about how he'd been doing fine, and when he got into the top, a man had been there. He said the guy had no climbing equipment, and he was wearing a parka in ski pants. He walked up to the guy, and when the guy turned around, he said he had no face. It was just blank. He freaked out and ended up trying to get off the mountain too fast, which is why he'd fallen. He said he could hear the guy all night, climbing down the mountain and letting out these horrible muffled screams. That story bothered the hell out of me.

I'm glad I wasn't there to hear it. One of the scariest things I've ever had happened to me involved the search for a young woman who'd gotten separated from her hiking group. We were out until late at night because the dogs had picked up her scent. When we found her, she was curled up under a large rotted log. She was missing her shoes in pack, and she was clearly in shock. She didn't have any injuries, and we were able to get her to walk with us back to base ops. Along the way, she kept looking behind us and asking why that big man with black eyes was following us.

We couldn't see anyone, so we just wrote it off as some weird symptom of shock. But the closer we got to base, the more agitated this woman got. She kept asking me to tell him to stop making faces at her. At one point, she stopped and turned around and started yelling into the forest, saying that she wanted him to leave her alone. She wasn't going to go with him, she said, and she wouldn't give us to him. We finally got her to keep moving, but we started hearing these weird noises coming from all around us. It was almost like coughing, but more rhythmic and deeper.

It was almost insect-like. I don't really know how else to describe it. When we were within the side of base ops, the woman turns to me, and our eyes are about as wide as I can imagine a human could open him. She touches my shoulder and says, he says they tell you to speed up. He doesn't like looking at the scar on your neck. I have a very small scar on the base of my neck, but it's mostly hidden under my collar, and I have no idea how this woman saw it.

Right after she says this, I hear that weird coughing right in my ear, and I just about jumped out of my skin. I hustled her to ops, trying not to show how freaked out I was, but I have to say I was really happy when we left that area that night. This is the last one I'll tell, and it's probably the weirdest story I have. Now, I don't know if this is true in every S-A-R unit, but in mine it's sort of an unspoken, regular thing we run into. You can try asking about it with other S-A-R officers, but even if they know what you're talking about, they probably won't say anything about it. We've been told not to talk about it by our superiors, and at this point we've gotten so used to it that it doesn't even seem weird anymore.

On just about every case where we're really far into the wilderness, some talking 30 or 40 miles, at some point we'll find a staircase in the middle of the woods. It's almost like if you took the stairs in your house, cut them out, and put them in the forest. I asked about it the first time I saw some, and the other officer just told me not to worry about it, that it was normal. Everyone I asked said the same thing. I wanted to go check them out, but I was told very emphatically that I should never go near any of them. I just sort of ignore them now when I run into them because it happens so frequently. My dead girlfriend keeps messaging me on Facebook. I've got the screenshot.

I don't know what to do. Tonight's kind of the catalyst for this post. I just received another message, and it's worse than any of the others. My girlfriend died on the 7th of August 2012. She was involved in a three-car collision driving home from work when someone ran a red light. She passed away within minutes on the scene. We've been dating for five years at that point. She wasn't big on the idea of marriage.

It felt archaic, she said, gave her a weird vibe. But if she had been, I would have married her within three months of our relationship. She was vibrant, the kind of girl that you would choose dare every time. She was happiest when camping, but a total technophile too. She always smelled like cinnamon. That being said she wasn't perfect. She always said something along the lines of, If I kark it first, don't just say good things about me.

I've never liked that. If you don't pay me out, you're just doing me a disservice. I've got so many flaws, and that's just part of me. So this is for M. The music she said she liked and the music she actually liked were very different. Her idea of affection was a side hug. She had really long toes, like a chimpanzee. I know that's tangent at all, but I don't feel like discussing her without you have an idea of what she was like.

On to the meat. M had been dead for approaching 13 months when she first messaged me. September 4th, 2013. This is when it began. I'd left Emily's Facebook account activated so I could send her the occasional message, post on her wall, go through her albums. It felt too final and to un-emily to memorialize it. I share access with her mother, Susan, meaning her mother has her login and password and has spent a total of approximately three minutes on the website or on a computer total. After a little confusion, I assumed it was her. November 16th, 2013. I'd received confirmation from Susan that she hadn't logged in to M's Facebook since the week of her death.

M knew a lot of people, so I instantly assumed this was one of her more tech-savvy friends fucking with me in the worst way possible. I noticed pretty much immediately that whoever was chatting with me was recycling old messages from M and M's shared chat history. The Wheels on the Bus comment was from when we were discussing songs to plan a road trip that never eventuated. Hello happened a million times. Around February 2014, Emily started tagging herself in my photos.

I would get notifications for them, but the tagged would generally always be removed by the time I got to it. The first time I actually caught one, it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. She would tag herself in spaces where it was plausible for her to be, or where she would usually hang out. I've got screenshots of two, from April and June. These are the only ones I've caught, so they're a little out of the timeline I'm trying to write out. Around this period of time, I stopped being able to sleep. I was too angry to sleep. She would tag herself in random photos every couple weeks. The friends who noticed and said something thought it was a fucked up bug. I found out recently that there have been friends who

have noticed and didn't say anything. Some of them have removed me from their Facebook friends list. At this point, some of you may be wondering why I didn't just kill my Facebook profile. I wish I had. I did for a little while. On days when I can't get out there, though, it's nice having my friends available to chat. It's nice visiting Em's page when the little green circle isn't next to her name. I was already socially reclusive when M was alive. Her death turned me into something pretty close to a hermit. In Facebook and MMOs were, and are, my only real social outlet. On March 15th, I sent what I assumed was M's hacker a message. On March 25th, I received an answer. It wasn't until I was going over these logs a few months later that I noticed she was recital.

my own words as well. My response seems kind of lackluster here. I was intentionally providing her or him with emotional bait. This is actually devastating to keep them interested in their game. I was working off the assumption that the kind of person to do this would be the kind of person that would thrive on the distress of others. I was posting in tech forums, looking for ways to track this person, contacting Facebook. I needed to keep them around so I could gather evidence. Before anyone asks, yes, I changed the password and all security info countless times. 16th of April, I receive this. This seems like a word salad, like all our conversations so far.

It's recycled from previous messages she sent. 29th of April, I hadn't discovered any leads. Facebook had told me the locations or page had been accessed from, but since her dead, there are all places I can account for. My home, my work, her mom's house, etc. My response here wasn't bait. Yo, asked Nathan, was an in-joke too lame worth explaining. But seeing her, say it again, just absolutely fucking crippled me. My reaction in real life was much less prettier. I'm not expecting my bond back. Her last few messages had started to scare me, but I wouldn't admit it at this point. Eighth of May, I don't really have the words for this. Freezing is the last

original words, she's made? This had given me nightmares that have only started to kick in recently. I keep dreaming that she's an ice cold car, frozen, blue, and gray, and I'm standing outside in the warmth, screaming at her to open the door. She doesn't even realize I'm there. Sometimes her legs are outside with me. 24th of May. I wasn't actually drunk. She wasn't an affectionate girl, and it always embarrassed her to exchange.

I love yous, cuddle, talk about how much we meant to each other. She was more comfortable with it when I was boozed up. I got fake drunk a lot. Her replies what prompted me to finally memorialize her page, thinking it might help curb this behavior. It might seem innocuous compared to her previous messages. It's pasted from an old conversation where I was trying to, to convince her to let me drive her home from her friends. In the collision, the dashboard had crushed

her. She had severed in a diagonal line from her right hip to midway down her left thigh. One of her legs was found tucked under the back seat. Going back in time, 7th of August 2012. These are logs from the day she died. She was usually home from work by 4.30. This, alongside a couple of voicemail messages, is the last time I talked to her under the assumption that she was alive. You'll see why I'm showing you these soon. Yesterday, 1st of July, 2014. I memorialized her page a couple of days after I received the message about walking. Until today, she'd been quiet. She wasn't even tagging herself in my photos. I don't know what to do anymore. Do I kill her memorial page? What if it is her? I want to puke. I don't know what's happening. I just heard a Facebook alert.

I'm too afraid to swap windows and check it. And all right, that wraps up the sinister Reddit stories video. And I really enjoyed these stories. And let me know if you want to see more of the U.S. Park Ranger stories and like all one video could be all based around his stories because there's like 20 parts of that thing. And it could be like a two hour long video that just those stories. But let me know if you want to see that just exclusively or just keep seeing these or any other suggestions. Please let me know in the comments below.

and thank you so much for watching until the end. Yeah, thank you again. Like and subscribe. It helps the channel out a lot. $250,000 by the end of the year. I think we can do it. And yeah, all right. Until next time, see ya.