Snook - Spooky 4Chan Stories

Episode Date: July 28, 2025

These are some strange scary stories! What was your favorite story? Mine was the first one, although they were all spooky...Thank you guys for watching, let me know if you would like to see more content like this in the future! Thanks for watching, like and subscribe. Let me know what your favorite story was down below! You guys are the best!Sub goal is 500k subs! So subscribe! Comment down below what you’d like to see in the future!And 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. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to another 4chan stories video. You guys have been really enjoying the 4chan stories, and I've been enjoying recording them and just reading these stories for you guys. I just think they're really entertaining, scary, and just super unique and interesting all the 4chan stories. And I hope you guys continue to enjoy. And if you do, please comment down below if you'd like to see more in the future. And thank you so much for stopping by.

I appreciate it a lot. Please like and subscribe. It's the channel's called to be at 500,000 subscribers. So please subscribe to the channel. And all right, without further ado, let's get into some spooky 4chan stories. I want to tell you a story. It's the story of a man. You see, my great-grandma was a real nice old lady. She had a nice little old lady house. We used to go there a lot before she passed away several years ago. And my grandparents torn it down to build a new house for themselves on top.

One thing I distinctly remember was her attic. Boy, was it scary. It was dark. Only one light bulb would work, and you had to be real careful because there was a lot of exposed insulation, so if he stepped off the boards to get around, you'd probably fall straight through the ceiling into the room below. But it wasn't so much the atmosphere of the attic, the fact it was dark, dusty, and smelt a little weird. It was a story my uncle and my dad used to tell me about the attic, and now I'm going to tell you. A very long time ago, when my grandpa was just a little boy that moved into the house, it was nice. Two bedrooms, a nice. bathroom, dining room, kitchen, my great-grandparents made a very decent living. My great-grandfather

owned a very successful body shop. My great-grandmother sold Avon. And one day, my grandpa was playing in the living room when there was a knock at the door. He answered and there stood a man. He was wearing a nice suit, holding a nice hat against his chest with a polite smile on his face. Hello there, Jr., he said. Is your father home? My great-grandfather approached the door. Suspicious. If you're selling anything, I'm not interested. Thanks, he said, before trying to close the door.

But no, this stranger interrupted with a start. No, no, sir, I promise I'm no salesman. I'd just like to talk to you, if you wouldn't mind. About what? My great-grandfather asked. I was wondering if I could take a look in your attic. You see, I used to live here, and it would be really bring back some memories. The man was nervous, but my great-grandfather wasn't about to fall for a con man.

Sorry, sir. My wife's about a finish dinner. I'm not interested. So he shut the door and ushered my young grandfather away. A day passed, and it was another hot summer day. My great-grandmother was fixing my grandpa lunch when she heard a knock. Wallace, could you get the door? She called to great-grandpa, who sighed and obeyed his wife.

It was the man again. Now see here, mister. I already told you. I don't want some stranger in my house. You leave me and my family alone before you upset my son and wife. And if you upset my son and wife, I think there's going to be some trouble. Please, sir, the man pleaded. Ringing his hands, it'll only take a moment.

I absolutely must get up there if they're even for ten minutes. This time, my grandfather didn't give him the liberty of a goodbye, only a slam door. A few days passed, peaceful plane, working, the life of your average Canadian upper-middle-class family took place as usual. My great-grandfather, great-grandmother, and grandfather sat eating dinner one evening. I like to imagine they were having my grandmas, this is what I called her, roasted chicken and potatoes, so delicious, but I digress. Again, a knock at the door. It sounded important. I swear if it's that son of a bitch again asking to get in our attic, I'll be tuning this clock for good.

My great-grandpa muttered, getting up. Wallace, please, nothing in front of little gym. My great-grandmother cried. It was the man again. He was not, however, alone. He was with another man who looked similar. Now, sir, before you chase this away, please understand we're brothers and we absolutely must speak with you.

He said before my great-grandfather could curse him out, up and down. Well, spit it out then, man. Now you've gone and interrupted my supper after a long day's work, and this had better be good, my grandfather threatened. Tell me, sir, have you ever heard strange noises in your house? scratching, shuffling, maybe even light moaning from your attic? The new man asked calmly. My grandfather turned stone cold.

His son, my grandpa, had often whined of scratching and other sounds, to which both his parents attributed to maybe mice. Maybe we have, maybe we haven't. Why do you ask? He answered coolly, crossing his arms. The men at the door exchanged worried glances. If you'd let us come up to your attic, You could come, if you like, but it would be better if you told your son to go to his room,

your wife to the kitchen, and for us men to go upstairs. So, my great-grandfather told my grandpa to go play, asked his wife to clear the table, and led the men up into the dank attic. They used it only for storage. There were no real reasons to come up here, ever. The two men looked around. They knock on the wood of the walls in the attic in various different spots. Knock, knock, hollow.

Knock, knock, hollow. Knock, knock, not hollow. My grandfather froze as they nodded at one of another before turning to my great-grandfather. Now, sir, please believe us when we say will pay for any damages that need to be fixed. And that what we're about to do may be very shocking, maybe even frightening to you.

So you may very well not want to see what's about to happen. My great-grandfather pondered right then and there about turning his heel and waiting downstairs, but no, he had to be the man and stay for his family's sake. Go ahead, then. What's in there? he asked. He wished he added. The two men pulled at the boards, peeling away the old wood fairly easy. My great-grandfather felt vicious bile building his stomach and throat. The smell. Oh, God, the smell.

His body was frail and gnarled. His skin was a ghostly white. His bare teeth yellow as freshly boiled sweet corn. His eyes were open, glazed over and staring. The pupils were milky. He was blind. The white were barely that. Instead, they were bloodshot to a point that was almost unbelievable.

His fingernails resembles long brown talons. Horror filled my great-grandfather as the two men bowed their heads. It's him, said one. The other one sighed and covered his nose with his sleeve. This thing, this remnant of a once-living man, was dead. But freshly, that was when my great-grandfather had reached his boiling point. Now, you both had better get explained to me right now. Just what in God's name is going on here?

Is this some sort of sick joke? I ought to know. Blow your brains out of both of you. Where you stand? He bellowed. Sam, go get the blankets from the car. I'll explain. One man said as Sam nodded.

and left. Sir, please understand. We're no monsters, you see. This is our brother. He began fretfully, looking at the mangled creature in the wall. Your brother? You six sons of bitches locked up your own brother in the wall? My great-grandfather cried out, placing a hand on his squeezy stomach. Never, sir, never, said the man. My father just passed. We never even knew this poor boy existed out of our lives. My other brother and I. Now it was seen our brother. here was born with some sort of mental retardation. Something that my father and mother couldn't handle his parents so they chose to do the unthinkable rather than face the public with their shame, he explained, motioning for the shell of a man. Mind you, this story takes place in a time when

something like a mental defect was seen as a terribly embarrassing thing. My grandfather held his head. He looked at the dead man in the attic. Then back to the stranger. Get this, this thing out of my house. Send someone over to patch up your mess and then never, ever come near my family again. You hear me? he ordered. You can rely on that, sir. We had not wanted to bother you in the first place, but we couldn't sleep at night, knowing some poor family was stuck with him living up in your walls.

You see, he probably was sucking the moisture from the ceiling and eating bugs and mold, I would think. It's amazing he could have survived. My grandfather solemnly said nothing. He only watched as Sam returned and the two men bundled their strange, demented and dead brother, leaving with a courteous thank you, followed by a repairman, in a generous fruit basket, a day later. When my grandmother asked what had happened, my grandfather could not bear telling her. Rats, he said. Just rats. I don't know if this story belongs here.

Whatever, here's the story. It's fucking long, but bear was. with me. Friend not in the story tells us about a place to get palm readings. Lifting buddy and I go to get palms readings. Show up to this shady-ass place at 10 in the morning wearing our workout gear. Ghost bitch is already mernin. Stereotypical, scraggly gypsy woman shakes our hands and seats us at the table with a crystal ball. Ask who wants to go first. Hispanic heritage kicks in and I nope at the last minute. Friend chads up to the plate. Woman grabs his hand.

He flexes slightly. Woman goes from smiling to horrified. Starts grabbing and studying his hand like a last will. Feeling weird, man. Tells my friend he's got something following him. Ask him if he did any Ouija voodoo bullshit. Says he smashed a hole in the wall when he was drunk lifting at home. Says there was some type of decorative skull behind it

that he now uses as decoration in his bedroom. Gypsy lets us leave without pain. At the gym 30 minutes later. Spotting friend Wally Benches. Some newbie dumb ass is curling next to us. Like no joke, six inches away from us. Dude slips up in a day, swings a 20, he's holding that friend's head. Throws the bar up and ducks just in time.

Almost impale himself, trying to catch the bar. Newby apologizing while friend gets back up and I'm shitting myself still. Tell friend he should go home. friend looks unfazed and wants to continue leave to a boyliss sister's house to get some sage and silver go back to gym and give it to a friend the next day friend looks happier than normal tells me some shit went down at his house

says the power was dead even though his bills were paid and the rest of his neighborhood had power heard rattling of silverware uses flashlight after sea saw a silhouette of someone crawl under the kitchen counter nothing under the counter not even shelves friend doesn't believe in Ouija shit and believes it's an intruder or animal friend grabs his pull-up bar and gets ready for the sweet fit justice yells obscenities while patrolling his house says he sees what looked like a small humanoid crouched in his weight room give zero fucks and

tosses the pull-up bar at the window shatters like lanket kneecap squatting thing nowhere in sight friend then starts to consider Ouija shit calls other friend for advice lifting group had some odd characters. Johnny answers and tells him to burn the sage and carry the silver. Says he'll be by with some holy water. Drops it off. I'll call my grandmother tomorrow to help. She's like one of the medium people. Friend sits down on his couch while the house smells like old. Watch his American dad. Looks at the sage. Dry it up and out. Goes to his pocket for the silver. Fucking melted. Instead of warm, it was cold. Start to see something dart back and forth across the room. TV goes off and static comes on. Says high-pitched screaming fills the house.

Friend gets annoyed. Walks over to the wait room and smash the skull against the wall in a fluid motion. Like imagine walking into a room, tipping over a vase, then going back to doing what you were doing. He did that except through a skull against the wall. Says the house shook. Screaming got higher than stopped. Lights go off again. Here's numerous footsteps getting close to him. Tells me he's mildly freaked out at this point. I'm very concerned that he said mildly. Says he doused himself in holy water and started swinging as hard as he could into the darkness. Only hears the wind breaking on his fists. Says he heard the footsteps getting further away from him. Screams, N'uh. Start to running around his house and swinging in the darkness. Fucks up his living room in the

process. Tells me he swears he made contact with something fleshy a few times. Doesn't remember falling asleep. Wakes up and goes to the gym to tell me. me this the next day. Friend goes outside to make frequent calls throughout his routines, ask him if he's trying to get in touch with a priest. Tells me, been calling his home phone and leaving angry voice messages for the ghosts, says he would buy a snake just to fly and end out with a rolling pit until it dies. Friend goes home again. Fast forward a few days. Looks completely normal. Ask Johnny if lifting buddy was all right. Tells me it's disturbing how well he is handling the situation. Says he went to lifting buddy's house to check him on the stitch and feels a present

but is feeling scared. Lifting buddy walks out of his bathroom naked, wiping his ass with a Ouija board towel, throws in on the floor and kicks it into the living room, pours more holy water on it, then takes it outside to burn it. Ask friend if he's hungry. Uh, sure.

It says he pulled out an open Ouija board he bought at Spencer's and uses it as a fucking cutting board. Says he repeatedly stabbed the cutting knife into the board when he was not using it. Breaks the board in half after his son chopping up tomatoes and throws it in the trash. Watches his hands, then pisses in the trash can. Even I think this is disrespecting the spirits too much.

They both eat grilled chicken salad, then Johnny leaves. Says on the way out, Lifting Buddy goes into the lifting room and puts another crucifix on the wall. I'm gonna put him Jesus on this wall, and I'll be back to fucking masturbate on my bench press while thinking about Lucifer's whore daughter. Punches a hole in the wall before leaving.

Johnny causes his abuela that night. Abuela goes to Lifting Buddy's house of the priest the next day. says her abuela and priest were also amazed slash disturbed with how lifting buddy is fighting the situation. Priest actually coward and mirrored lifting buddy pissing naked on the satanic Bible. He bought at some shady bookstore. Tells priest he walks around naked a lot lately and talks shit about Satan. Priest leaves before cleansing. Abuela stays to do her medium thing, tries to contact the spirits,

says it was a group of entities that were very pissed that their shrine was disturbed, tells her that they have no power since Lifting Buddy isn't remotely scared of anything they've done. Lifting Buddy walks back into wait room with a dead snake. Aboila says the entity scatter like roaches. Check out what I found on the street this morning. Takes a bite out of the apple. A fucking dead snake? Throws the snake on the floor.

Putting holy water and salt on it. Kicks it into the carpet a few times for peeling it off and throwing it into the trash can in the kitchen. Aboila is what the fucking at this man's mental strength or ignorance. Tries to contact the spears again. They keep running from her. Finally talks to one. Says they are scared of lifting buddy. Ghosts are scared of my bulky friend.

Abuela asks what could have made them pass on. Says they did black magic to get revenge on some asshole landlord from way back then. Says they had incriminating shit to shame his family within the wall with his skull. Aboila tells Lifting Buddy what he needs to do. Lifting Buddy goes into the weight room, makes the hole in the wall bigger by throwing a 15th through the wall, finds a folder with records of some sort. I'm not lying about any of this. I swear, and especially this next part.

Lifting Buddy flips through the papers, then wipes his paws with it. Aboila horrified, crumbles them up and throws them into the corner of the room, tells the spirits to piss off, then punches another hole in the wall. Total of 13 holes at this point. Aboila says,

may go have mercy, in Spanish, then leaves. Goes back to lifting buddy's house a month later, immediately goes to the weight room. More holes than wall destroyed a half, but like halo descending from the heavens, the bench press and squatting rack are still there. Tries to contact spirits.

Nothing. Smiles and asks my friend if he did what needed to be done. Again, not lying about any of this. Tells Abuela, he uncrumbled the papers and got the address of this bastard. Papers were only from 60 years ago, so the guy was still alive just as old as dust. Finds the address of this guy in some sort of mansion. Knox in the door wearing a jet swole you must-sar wars Yoda tank top, board shorts, pink sunglasses, and a backwards Chicago bow.

bull snapback. Johnny said lifting buddy went into a lot of detail about his wardrobe for this. Some scrawny white guy in his mid-30s opens the door. Lifting buddy holds up the paper and asks for the person in the paper's name. Hey dad, uh, someone's here to see you. He has documents. Lifting buddy lets himself in and finds the old man in his studies. Who are you? Notices the paper. What? Where did you get that? Old man tries to grab the papers. Lifting buddy punches the old man in the face. Dentures fly out.

says it was like some shit out of a movie. Crouches in his face and sets the old man straight Sherlock home style. Guy's son run and jumps on my lifting buddy's back. Lifting buddy stops mid-sentence, lets the guy down, then gut punches him until he hobbles out of the front and pukes into the hallway, tells the old man to set shit right or he will be back for blood. Leaves. Fast forward a couple days.

Various cars outside of my lifting buddy's house. Thinks the old man brought some friends and grabs his pull-up bar, walks outside in his tank top and house shorts. Various families are thanking him and giving him home-cooked foods. Thank him for getting their grandparents' properties back. The documents were apparently deeds swindled out by the old man. Families say the whole will never forget you, spiel and leave. Friend looks into the type of wear, nothing but calories and carbs, cookies, briskets, gumbo,

throws it all away and goes back to his lifting in his weight room. See Old Man's name in the news a few days later. Apparently, he was hated by the community for being a dick. Somehow only heard about him now. News didn't disclose how he died. Don't know if it was from my lifting buddy doing more damage than he thought, the ghost getting their revenge, or natural causes. Hasn't had any paranormal problems since then except for one.

Says he went into the kitchen for a late night non-cheating snack and saw full-body apparitions. They smiled at him. Says he grabbed an apple, head nodded while taking a bite, and walked away to his bedroom. He stops halfway and turns around. Holy fuck, you guys are real. Spirits fade when smiling.

Lifting buddy goes to sleep. Lifting buddy still lifts and does insane shit like he always does. No one fucks with him since the ghost puncher incident. Aboila mirrors every time she's around him. And I think the priest hold his priest's buddy slash church because everyone mires and cowers and grace twice as hard when they're around him. Again, none of this was made up. No walk the dinosaur 10 shit. My friend legitimately beat up a bunch of ghosts.

His grandpa always taught me to fear rainy days. He would tell me these stories about Red Vark, the local maximum security prison. He would tell me about the violent criminals and the deeds they did to end up there. He would explain to me how some of these men were so dangerous that they couldn't be trusted to live in normal jail cells that they needed to be chained to the stone walls. My grandpa would tell me about rainy days in stormy nights, how the rain would weaken the stone and how these men could pull the chains right. out of the wall if the weather was bad enough. He showed me newspaper clippings of escapees.

There was always a handful per year. He would tell me that, do a tea. The prison breaks always coincided with rainy weather. Most escapees would flee to the surrounding neighborhoods. They would try to hide in people's garages and basements, under their porches waiting for the rain to pass. Sometimes the men would break into the houses. Sometimes the men would do unspeakable things said people residing in those houses. We lived only about eight miles from Redfark, and on those days, my grandpa would remind me of this. My grandpa would tell me that on rainy days, it was best to just stay in my room, to log my door, to put some music on low, grab a comic book, and get my head somewhere else. He even taught me how to turn my closet into a fortress of solitude. We threw a blanket and a couple of

pills in there. I had a few posters of superheroes on the closet wall. I kept a box of comic books and baseball cards in one corner, in a metallic foot locker filled with junk food and cassette tapes in the other. My grandpa would encourage me to get in the closet when it rained, especially when it stormed. I would sit in there, listening to my walkman, I would finger through comic books, I'd bundle myself up against the pillows and drift asleep. I felt safe in my closet, and I enjoyed the hours that I would spend in there on rainy days. He would tell me that most of the time during escapes, the convicts would only usually hurt people they happen to come across. If they broke into a home to avoid police and there was a family sitting around the TV in the living room,

they would strike. He would tell me that if a red vark prisoner escaped, and if they came to her neighborhood and if they broke into her house, that as long as I stayed in my closet, I'd be okay. It would be possible for a convict to find me and hurt me, but as long as I stayed in my closet for it, I'd be safe as anyone in town. I would remind myself on this on rainy days. I would sit in my closet and think about it, and it would make me feel safe. My grandpa disappeared one June. I lived with him alone.

My parents had died years earlier. My grandpa disappeared, and I was afraid to call the police. I knew if something happened to my grandpa, the police would take me away and force me to live in a home. I didn't want to live in a home. I had a home. I kept his disappearance to myself for over a week. I'd walk myself to school. I knew where Grandpa kept emergency cash,

and so I would take a little here and there to the corner bodega and buy some milk and sandwich meats. One day, about eight days after his disappearance, they led us out of school early. Storm of the century, they said. Thunder and lightning and heavy rain all night. The rain was so heavy that night. The local streets flooded over.

On the walk home from school, the water was up to my ankles. By 9 o'clock, the water was coming up to people's knees. I got home, climbed into my little hiding space, and covered myself in a blanket. Thunder clapped outside. I was very afraid. The storm itself unsettled me, but thinking about red vark and how easy it would be to escape during a storm like this, terrified me. We lost power after a little while. I sat in the closet in darkness.

I turned to my walkman for solace. After a few hours, the music started to stutter. After a few more minutes, it stopped altogether. Batteries, dead as doornails. I continued to sit in silence. The power hadn't come back on yet. The darkness and silence enveloped me. Then the silence was broken.

By a scratching noise, some distance away. I ignored it at first, but it grew louder and more incessant. Finally, I reluctantly left the safety of my fort. In the upstairs hallway I stopped and listened. the noise was clearly coming from downstairs. I descended the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. I got to the kitchen and stopped to listen again. The noise still sounded as if it were coming from below me.

We had no basement, so the fact that the noises were coming from beneath me was unsettling. There were more noises now, too. Not just scraping. I thought I heard moaning. I crouched low to the floor, listening. The noises grew loud. louder as I entered the living room, louder still as I entered the main corridor. I stopped on a throw rug at the end of the hallway.

The noises were at their loudest here, below me. I pulled the throw rug away and saw a trap door. It must have led to a basement or a crawl space. I had no idea it existed. I had no idea there was anything under that rug. I wondered why it was padlocked. I grabbed a ring of old keys that hung on a hook in the mud room. I tried the keys in the padlock one after another.

The fourth key slid in the lock like a base runner sliding in two. Something pounded against the bottom of the trapdoor. Flap. Flap. It was followed by muffled voices. Ullo. Every dare. I could barely make out their voices.

Flop. Help us. I understood that. I turned the key and lifted up the trap door. The worst smell I've ever known wafed it up and hit me in the chest. I instantly heard woman crying

in a man's voice sobbing, thank God, oh, thank God. And then another, water, please, we need water. The next few days were a whirlwind. Police, media, and gockers descended on the house. Our small town in Arizona never saw much excitement.

The news of a homegrown serial killer sent an electric jolt through the populace. The media was relentless. The police had a million questions. Where's your grandfather? I don't know. Did you know what he was doing?

Did you help him hide his secret? No, I'd say. No. Never. Did you help your grandfather bury the bodies in the backyard? No. You must have helped, they'd say. No.

You must have helped. An old man like that wouldn't be able to dig in the Arizona clay all by himself. And then it hit me. rain i'd say the policeman looked at me blankly what he'd wait for it to rain and i usually don't comment after a lot of these stories but in all honesty i can't lie that was single-handedly the best story i've ever read on reddit or four chan or four chan or reddit to be frank um that was so ridiculously good and something I did not expect at all. That was so out of the blue, so unexpected, so, so fresh for a story.

I've, because I've read hundreds of stories in videos at this point. You guys have heard so many stories. And that was, I expected it. I expected a prisoner escapee to come into his house and murder the kid, like all the stories to do, you know? But that one, wow, that was a great twist. That was a, a, amazing. amazingly played out story, thought out story. That was such a good story.

And that's why I love these 4chan story videos is because there are so many hidden gems. Because on Reddit and most of the other popular forums, all the good ones are kind of, you know, covered a lot. And none of them are new. But that one was genuinely so good in my opinion. So, so good. That might be in top five stories I've ever read on this channel. That one was so good. Uh, yeah, that, that one was amazing.

I just was not expecting that end at all. And, uh, just the, just the emotions, just, it was very well written. It was short, but it was perfectly long enough. Um, yeah, that one was great. I, I'm kind of left speechless. Uh, comment down below if you enjoyed that one as well, because, yeah, that one was, that one was great. I don't even give a fuck if you believe me. This sounds unreal, more like a dream I had and nobody else believes me, but you guys are

more trained in occult bullshit, so what the fuck? Be me. 19. Visiting my grandfather in North Michigan. A bit of backstory about Gramps. Grandpa lives in a cabin like a pioneer. I never really know him too well. Only saw him once every few years.

All I really know about him is back in the 70s, he was in NOM. When I was 17, he confessed to me that he felt terrible about the things he did over there. Apparently beat a kid to death with a shovel. After that, I kind of avoided him. Too freaked out to talk to him, especially since he was clearly unstable. Old guilt caught up with him. Now he knows he's nearing the end of his life. Liver problems. Refuses medication. Invited me over since I'm his last living relative, and he wants to spend time with me before he passes. At first, I was hesitant, but I decided this is what my father would have wanted. After about three hours of driving, I get to his cabin. Nice place. Looks like he's

made it out of Lincoln logs. He's waiting outside on his cabin porch, smoking a pipe in the rocking chair, looks straight out of the cartoons, suspenders and all, looks exhausted, dark circles under his saggy eyes. He gets up and gives me a bear hug. He's trying to hug me as hard as he can, but he's clearly weak. We hug for a few minutes, mostly because I find it too awkward to break away. I remind myself that, even though I only remember him for a few years, he's known me for most of his life. Halfway, though, he starts kind of breathing heavy on me. Sniffles. Realizing he's been crying silently. Eventually, he breaks away. Red-eyed. Come inside, ain't on? Okay, pa. Come inside to a very cozy cabin. It is getting cold, especially Michigan, so he has the fire going. He has running water,

gas stove, and two beds. One of them is very new and quality. I think about it just for me. When I get over the initial off-puttingness of his behavior, I begin to care for him. I kind of remember my grandfather, if that makes sense. The bond of family becomes newly important. Decide to be his life and helper until he dies that very day. He starts to make us some decaf, but halfway through, he starts to sweat. I help him to his chair by the fire and finish the coffee. My coffee tastes like shit, but he's still very appreciative.

Assures me that it's delicious. After the decaf, we get ready for me. bed. He lies on the beat-up small bed and tells me to sleep on the new one. When I tell him we should switch, he refuses. I guess he did buy it for me. He says his prayers and falls asleep. I can't stand watching this dying old man. My own flesh and blood is sleeping on that pile of junk. He's quite small and frail at his age, though not thin. With a bit of effort, I managed to lift him up gently and tuck him into the big of bed. Move the small bed to the window and make sure to sleep facing it. That way, the sun wakes me up.

When the sun wakes me up, it's like 6 a.m. I slide the bed back and switch my grandpa back. Lay on the good bed for another 20 minutes before I realize I can't fall asleep again. All that lifting woke me up. Decide to just prepare breakfast and pack his pipe for him. Go to an outhouse near his cabin because flushing might wake him up. When I'm done, I step outside. Notice something behind his cabin.

It seems to be a gate holding six black horses. They're shackled in these massive metal chains. Each horse has a huge metal ring around their necks. They're all chained together and all to the ground. Since it's like 6 a.m. and the forest is dark, they look creepy as hell. I thought it might have been a trick of the light, but their faces look fucked up. Pick related it is a horse skull. You know how most horses don't look like that skull?

These did. Their eyes looked almost red. I thought it might just be a reflection, like how cameras show red pupils, but God, was I wrong? Step back inside to find Grandpa awake sitting on his bed. Talks about what we were going to do for the day. He said his back felt good enough today that he might want to do some vision. Not to stroke my own ego, but I attribute that to me letting him sleep in a good bed. Let me tell you, you might as well as have been sleeping on the floor.

Whatever. After breakfast of eggs and bacon, I drive him to a pond near the house. We fished for a while, silent the entire time. Wasn't awkward, though. It was a comfortable silence. I didn't catch anything but he caught a three-pounder. His album reel it in. He was very proud of himself and that made him me happy.

Said he used to love to go out fishing. Told him we'd make it to dinner. On the drive back I asked him about the horses. I had kind of forgotten about them since early morning. Instantly I knew I shouldn't have asked him. His cheerful smile was replaced with a kind of stern grin. He looked like he was forcing himself to maintain a rapidly fleeting smile. Told me not to worry about it.

They were just some pets. I almost listened to him except he nervously quivered when he said worry. Never happened before or after, so I doubt it was just an old man thing. When we got back, he showed me how to gut and debone the fish, marinated in a dry rub for about 30 minutes while he took a break to puff on his pipe. While he was doing that, I opened the curtains to the back window and peered at the horses. They hadn't moved at all. They hadn't eaten or slept.

They didn't look cold. But they were still shooting hot breath from their nose. I know because it was cold. I saw it. I stepped outside to talk to my grandpa about the horses. Hey, Pot, did you forget to feed the horses or something? You don't feed those type of horses, son? I had no clue what he meant, but every time I tried to ask, he would just ignore me and change the subject.

When he was done, we stepped inside and had our dinner. I noticed he prayed extra long that night. Fast forward to the next morning. I just woke up with his son and put my grandpa back into his bed. I decided to get a bit closer to the horses this time. Got just barely close enough so I can see them. I don't think they noticed me. Christ, remembering it, now sends shivers down my spine.

Just as terrifying as I initially thought, if not more so. Shaggy, matted fur. Deformed, bent out of shaped skulls. I know 100% their rib cages should not have been indented like that. Their teeth looked like they had been chewing on rocks or something. It wasn't just their appearance, though. I've been around to formed animals before. It doesn't really bother me so much.

They had a fucked-up presence. Like the feeling in your stomach after you watched some fucked up gore? Initially, I felt bad for them. Now, I just wanted them to die. Strangely, however, I also wanted to get closer. Just being around them made my weak in the knees. I couldn't do it. One of them looked at me in the eyes and I hadn't just used the bathroom.

I would have to shit myself. Ran back into the cabin and hid. Cranp was just starting to get. get awake so I tried to just forget about it and get to work. Today was supplies day, meaning we were going to go into the town to refill on food, firewood, toil trees, etc. I decided to buy grandpa a keg too. Not for any special reason, just that it's important to have some fun while he could. Usually, he just got someone to deliver him food, but it was good to get some exercise. Plus, his back was feeling fine. We rode into town and grandpa said he was getting

sick. Poor guy hadn't been in a car for a while. motion sickness got to him and we had to pull over. After that, I realized we had to do quick. We got to a giant. Except they called them something else here, good in plenty, something like that. Pick everything up. I had the cake from Grandpa to surprise them with it back at the cabin.

But when we get back, something's wrong. I feel that same stomach feeling. There's a fucking racket coming from the back of the cabin. I pull up to the car and step outside. The horses are going nuts. Littered on the floor beside them are some white balls. Grandpa tells me, very sternly, get in the fucking cabin. Shouldn't we drive away?

Son, the worst thing we can do right now is trying to escape. I have no clue what the fuck he's on about. When we get inside, he starts explaining. Remember that he's an old man and he's injured, so I can hardly understand him. He starts talking about he didn't know where they were when he bought the cabin. If he leaves, he's going to die. They must have eaten some.

From what I can piece together if he feed them, they get stronger. and they can lure things in better. Once one of them got a bite, they got enough strength to lure in more and more. The most we can do is hope they run out of things to eat, snap. A loud fucking crack, like a whip snaps through the air. Grandpa goes silent. What the fuck was that, Pa?

He stares at me, kind of empty-like. Looking back at it, he was accepting his death. One of them broke the chains. What the fuck? Pa looks at me with a kind of pain in his eyes. Behind you. I whip around, facing the building. You're a good kid, Sonny.

Lose consciousness in a second. I come to with the sun beaming on my face. Wake up in a pile of my own blood. Crowbar at my side. My head aches like fuck. I touch the back of my head. Just a flesh wound. I pick myself up and try not to vomit.

Fail. I sit back down and try to come to. Everything aches. I'm freezing. Wait, why am I freezing? The right wall of the cabin is full of holes. Looks like someone threw boulders through there. What the fuck?

Where's grandpa? No sign of them. In fact, no sign of anything. I opened the door and step outside. Check behind. The gates have been trampled. The chains are broken. I get closer.

Those white things were crushed up rabbits. The horses half chewed them and spit them out. Start to piece everything. together. Promptly vomit again. Long story short, I walked back to the cabin and picked up a few things. I picked up my grandpa's pipe and his bluegrass tobacco, found a golden cross that he kept hidden in his cabinet, drove home without stopping. Next day I called the delivery boy and asked him deliver to the house so I could see if I dreamed the whole thing. He told me the house was burned down. Guys, I have no idea what the fuck happened that day. I'm sitting here and smoking his pipe. Honestly,

it's the only proof I have that any of this happened. My therapist can't explain it since I have physical evidence. My priest can't explain it. There's no records of demon horses or anything as far as we know. My friends tell me I'm full of shit. I don't know who else to turn to, guys. Help me. I used to work in the gas industry as a geologist.

From 2007 to 2009, I was on a contract with a Russian company called North Gas. back when industrial relations with the UK were still fairly cordial. There was lots of potential gas sites in the Siberian region far up north, and I used to go around potential sites with company borehole engineers, usually in groups of two or three. Anyway, I was at this one site in northern Siberia, with a German engineer in late October of 2008. It took ages to get to and completely devoid of human habitation,

but really beautiful taiga, endless forests on the drive up there. Yeah, I'm not a car nut, but it was some modified Jeep that the engineer guy would just not to shut the fuck up about all the way through Noia Bursk. Anyway, the site we went to was fairly typical of what you'd expect in the industry at these sorts of locations. Thin top soil, giving way to permeable siltstone, excellent locations for surveying. Now, to the story. We came to a location where satellite imagery was suggesting that permafrost was retreating.

It still fucking snow and ice is over, of course, but the key point is that it's not entirely frozen over. You can install stuff during the summer months, get gas production up. It was a pretty boring landscape, though. Very thin topsoil, giving way rapidly to permeable still stone. Lots of these natural holes all over the place, too. Permafrost plugs that had melted and left 20 to 30 meter deep holes dotted all over the place. We decided to stay a few weeks and do some test surveys. First week was completely fine, got some good locations, things progressing smoothly.

At the end of that week, though, things were getting a little weird. Every time I would go out with the spectrometer after the first week, I'd occasionally hear some noises from the holes. I was never near them because while you get a lot of gas coming off these things, they're not terribly good for industrial drilling. It was faint, just on the border of hearing. I never knew how to describe those noises until a few years later when someone took me out to a jazz bar and some guy was playing a violin like instrument that made this drone noise like fvum.

Disconcerning makes your hair stand up. My colleague would notice this too. Disconcerning, as in this job, you're not really working together but apart. So two of us were hearing stuff out there. We were both rational people, at the time for me at least, so we put it down to cave noises. Laugh, forget it. About 10 days into the survey, it started happening at night. Again, faint but really ominous. That drone noise. We used to sleep in the back of the van we had, but even though these doors, we heard it.

Again, stop being stupid, it's cave noises, laugh, have a few beers, go to sleep. It got worse from there. The day after, I found some slime stuff around one of the permafrost boreholes. Yeah, you get lichens and mosses around these things. Not an issue, but this was like petroleum, jelly. It had really viscous stuff.

I touched it and immediately regretted it. It felt a lot like pork belly fat. It was warm too, which was really, really disturbing, considering it was negative 5 Celsius for you Americans. During the day out there, bring around the German engineer to take a look. He looks troubled. For the rest of the day, I was constantly on edge, too. I kept looking back at the borehole too.

Just to check. I kept saying to myself, things got worse at night. That drone noise got a lot worse, but it felt, and I know that's a shit way of putting it, like it wasn't from below, but above on the surface. My German engineer tried to laugh it off, but I could tell he was seriously disturbed by it.

Just that low, fum. Eventually we got to sleep. God knows how many hours later, though. We wake up together because there was definitely something attempting to open the door handle to the passenger seat of the van. Click. Click. Click. Click. And now that drone is right fucking outside, and it sounds a lot like gurgling.

At this point, we both freak the fuck out and scream like a pair of little girls. It stops. We don't sleep the rest of the night, and it doesn't come back. Next day, as soon as we make it at 9 a.m., we cautiously open the doors. The entire back door is covered in this pork fat shit. The place reeks of something rotten, too. Passenger door just smeared in that stuff, but The thing that made us immediately go, fuck it we're leaving, was the passenger window, which was also smeared in the skunk, had an outline on it.

Like something had pressed its skull into the fat stuff and left an outline. It was unmistakable, some elongated human skull with no eye orbitals. Jelly stuff was all over the area around us too, and a fucking course led all the way to that fucking borehole. We got it out of there very fast after that, but as we were packing, that drone shit started again from that hole, and it was loud. It was guttural by this point. Whatever the shit was making, it was way down there and close too. German guy was pretty nuts after that. Just hopped in, immediately started going.

Equipment that was still out for the methane measurements just left. It didn't stop driving for the next 14 hours. I pretty much ditched my job soon after. I had no desire to be left like that again in the middle of places like that. German guy never heard from again. He never talked to me about it anyway. Thanks, I suppose. I guess distance from that events make it sound pretty perastic.

Spooky noises, ooh, slime, ooh. During the night, though, I was convinced I was going to die. You know how you just know when someone or something like an animal that's nice, curious, or it's just out to fuck you up? I knew instinctively that whatever wanted in didn't want a, crack a beer and ask us about geology if you get my drift. Anyway, I spent a long time after that. I'd calm down and about it, which took a few months, in fact, to think of a rational reason

for this. Every time, though, I kept budding up against the inexplainable. Sure, drone could be cave noises, but the warm slime stuff? The guttural noise? Around 2012, I got a lot into reading about frozen mammoths and the worry about viruses from the taiga that they were expecting because of the climate change and at that point i went full crazy and said fuck it frozen monster and all right guys that wraps up some spooky four chance stories and in all honesty i think this might be the best set of fourchand stories

i've ever read this video was by far my favorite fourchand stories video and maybe even stories video I've ever read. All the stories in here were so unique, so interesting, and so spooky, just as the title says. And that might have been corny, but who cares? Yeah, that was super interesting, in my opinion. I really, really enjoyed all of that. That was a really, really interesting set of stories. The grandpa one, serial killer one, was super fire. were super good. I enjoyed that one a lot. The last one was good. God, I know I've told you guys a few times, but Siberia, Russia, remote Russia, that always spooks me out. It's really favorite set of stories in my opinion. I don't know, super interesting. And yeah, I just really enjoyed all these

stories. Comment down below if you enjoyed them as much as I did because, yeah, I love these. Thank you so much for watching at the end of the video. Would you like to see shorter videos, longer videos super longer videos super short or somewhere in the middle like this uh yeah comment down below i read all my comments so yeah no comment will go unheard so thank you so much for watching i appreciate you all like and subscribe you guys are the best thank you for watching this is snook and i'll see you next time bye