Snook - Spooky TRUE Scary Stories

Episode Date: July 18, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to another scary stories video. And today we're getting into some spooky true scary stories. And these scary stories are all sent in by you guys, viewers of the Snook Channel. So thank you, everyone who's sending in stories. And if you'd like to see your story in a future video, please send to the email on screen now. Thank you. And thank you so much for stopping by. I really appreciate it.

Get comfy. Get a snack. Get some water. And yeah, get ready to listen to some true scary stories. And also, before we get into it, please like the video. Subscribe to the channel. It helps more than you know. And all right, without further ado, let's get into some spooky, true scary stories. Hey, I've been watching your videos for a while and decided to share my own story. Warning, sorry for the bad English, it's my third language,

and I'm still figuring out how to make my thoughts into a readable story. Feel free to leave feedback on my writing style and let me know if you want some other stories from my younger days. And don't worry, the story looks great. Thank you so much for sending it in. And anyways, into your story. Be me. Just feel it. finished my 11 months of mandatory military service, had fun in the forest, met new friends, learned some good survival skills, got fit and got out to practice shooting at the Ruskis if they ever decided to invade. After service, I went back to working as a mechanic, working in the same workshop I apprenticed in before military service, fixing buses and occasionally

trucks, same old routine, thought I'd start earning what little money I could to buy myself a house. Then one day, I got a call from a notary. Grandpa died. Didn't even know he was still alive, honestly. Turns out he left me his cabin, some old place out near the Latvian border, deep in the woods. I've loved the outdoors since I was a child and remember visiting the place a couple times with my parents, so this was kind of a dream come true. I was hoping that I could live there and work at a nearby town if the cabin was in decent enough shape. Decide to take my 87 Audi B3, which still somehow runs better than I did.

and took a three-week vacation from work, which I had saved up to drive out to the cabin. This happened in early summer, mind you, so it was the perfect time for a small summer retreat. Once I started getting close, the road got rough pretty quick, gravel to dirt, to barely a path surrounded by trees on both sides. When I finally got there, the cabin looked exactly like my childhood memories, moss growing on the roof, curtains shut tight, the kind of place you don't expect to see still standing. The door wasn't locked. I guess Grandpa didn't expect visitors. Pushed it open and stepped inside. The air was heavy, smelled like old smoke and pine.

The floor creaked under my boots, dust thick in the corners. But the place felt familiar and comforting in a strange way, probably due to the nostalgia. There was an old stove in the corner, rusted but still solid, and hanging above it was a mosen rifle, clean, oiled, like it was still being cared for, probably, left over from the Second World War and not exactly legally owned, but who cares? It belonged to my grandpa, and I decided to leave it as a keepsake. The first night was pretty calm. I inspected the cabin, moves all my stuff out of the car and explored around the cabin a bit, and I even found the keys for the whole place, but eventually I went to sleep. I slept pretty peacefully, though I was surprised at the amount of wildlife I heard outside at night. The cabin also creaked quite a lot, but the sound wasn't anything special. So I just wrote it off as the building settling. The next day, I started

cleaning, swept out years of dust. I guess grandpa didn't clean the cabin too much in his later years, stacked firewood, fixed a window that rattled in the breeze. My productive day did get cut a bit short as I found my grandpa's old notebook though. The notebook was hidden behind some loose boards in the kitchen wall. Not sure why he put it there. Maybe he just didn't want anyone reading it. It was this small beat-up thing with a few pages stuck together and some water damage on the bottom. Smelled like mildew and ash. I thought it was going to be old hunting notes or maybe some boring list of repairs, but most of it was weird. Scribbles, little hand-drawn maps of the forest around the cabin, and this name that kept hopping up, Kaija, which roughly translates to the Walker. I didn't know what

it meant. Thought maybe it was some old nickname for a bear or something. The way he wrote about it, though, It didn't sound like an animal. He mentioned noises outside, sometimes tapping on the cabin walls, sometimes footsteps, always at night. But the part that stuck with me was this thing about candles. He said the kaja likes light in the dark, not like it was scared of it, more like it appreciated it. It watched it. He wrote that as long as you lit a few candles before going to sleep, it stayed calm, like you were doing it a favor. Some nights he even wrote stuff like,

Left a flame burning, no knocking tonight, or one candle went out, woke up to scratching. It didn't seem like something he was just making up. He wasn't the poetic type. Grandpa was a grumpy, practical old man who swore at birds and fixed anything he got his hands on by himself. He had once told me that he had been the main engineer for a squadron of fighter jets back during the Soviet occupation.

I figured maybe he had a reason for writing it all down. Anyway, that night I figured why not. There were some candles still in the drawer under the sink, old dusty things, but they worked. I set up three. One in the window, one by the door, one near the stove. No electricity here anyway, so it made the cabin feel a bit more alive. It's dumb, but the air felt different with the candles lit. Not safer, exactly, just like something out there was paying attention.

Didn't hear any weird sounds at night and the wildlife seemed to have calmed down to the point where I barely heard anything outside. But I didn't sleep great. I kept watching the candlelight flicker across the ceiling, listening for weird sounds until I finally dozed off. I told myself I was just being stupid, reading too much into some old man's notes. But I kept lighting them the next few nights anyways.

The candles did add a bit of a comforting feeling, almost like sleeping with a nightlight on as a child. A few days went by like that. Wake up, make some coffee on the stove, chop a bit of wood, fix something that didn't really need fixing, light the candles when the sun starts dipping, sleep, repeat. Started to kind of feel nice, honestly. Peaceful. Like I was shaking off the city noise still ringing in my head from back home. The air here had a weird clearness to it, like everything was quieter, softer. One night, I woke up without really knowing why. It was dead

silent. Not the kind of quiet when you're alone, more like the kind when someone is waiting. to see what you'd do next. I sat up and looked around. All three candles were still burning, the wax pulling at the bases like melted ice cream. Then I noticed something outside the window. Just a shadow at first, not even a shape, really. Just this part of the tree line that looked wrong, like the moonlight bent around it or something. Could have been a tree. Probably was a tree. I'm not going to pretend I saw some clear monster or glowing eyes or whatever. It was just a darker shape against the already dark woods, and I swear it moved a bit, like it leaned forward when I blinked. Didn't go outside. Just sat there and stared back until the candles flickered slightly, like a draft

had hit them, even though every window had shut tight. Then I did what everyone else would do. I pulled a blanket over my shoulders and pretended I didn't care. Next morning I checked around the cabin. Didn't see anything weird. No footprints, no broken branches. Nothing. Felt stupid again. Almost packed up that day, actually. But I decided to say, since I was starting to get accustomed to the forced life, just told myself it was nerves, isolation. Maybe I was just going crazy being out here alone. But then the next night I saw something else.

Same deal. Candles burning, me lying half awake in my bed and thinking of all the stupid shit I used to do when I was younger. I heard a light knock. Not loud. Not like someone banging to get in. more like someone gently tapping a finger against the wood. It was three taps repeating on the wall, with a two-second delay before it started again. It was coming from the back wall of the cabin, just under the window near the stove.

Didn't get up, didn't say anything, just stared at the ceiling and hoped it would stop. After a minute, it did. Then something else caught my attention. I smelled something. It was faint, but it was there, like blood and wet. fur. If you've ever gutted a wild animal, you know what I mean. That hot iron smell, like something freshly dead. I didn't open the door. I just waited until morning again. And in the morning, I found it. Right on the front step, a rabbit, or what used to be one,

dead, skinned, but not like someone used a knife, more like it had been peeled, eyes gone, teeth bared. Just sitting there almost like a dead bird your cat would bring you. A pretty messed up gift, but animals have their own way of expressing themselves. So I thought maybe it was just some wildlife. I didn't touch it. Just use a shovel to fling it deep into the woods. And you know what I did that night?

Lit the candles again. All three. Burn them until they were half their size. I was kind of skeptical because I don't know any animal that would skin their prey in that way and then leave it at a doorstep, especially in the Estonian wilderness, where things are pretty calm. I guess that it could have been a fox or something and left it at that, not bothering to overthink things. But something about it felt deliberate, like it was a test to see my reaction. Anyway, I'm still here, still lighting the candles, still pretending everything's

fine. A couple more nights went by. No more rabbits, no more knocking. I started to think that maybe I passed the test or maybe whatever it was just got bored and left. The forest was quiet again, like it had been the first few nights. Still lit the candles, though. Didn't skip a single night. Might sound dumb, but it started to feel like a routine, like brushing your teeth before bed. You don't question it, you just do it. Then, maybe five or six days later, I messed up.

One of the candles had burned down too low the night before, and I didn't notice. The stub was so small, it basically melted into the plate. Didn't have a proper replacement, but I figured two would be enough for one night. Put one by the door, one by the stove. Nothing in the window. Seemed harmless at the time. That night, I woke up again. This time, not because of a sound.

Not even the silence. Just cold. The room felt colder than it should have been, like someone had left the door open. but I checked it earlier and it was locked. Still, I sat up in bed and looked around. Two candles flickering, both struggling, like someone was trying to blow them out from afar. That weird smell was back too.

Blood, fur, maybe a bit of smoke. It clung to the walls like dampness. Then I heard the footsteps. Slow, crunching across pine needles and gravel outside. Coming from the woods, I froze. Didn't even breathe for a second. The steps came closer, circled around the cabin once, then stopped near the window, the one I didn't put a candle in. I don't know how to explain it, but I swear I felt something looking in, like heat from a fire, but in reverse, a cold stare pressing through the glass.

I didn't get up, I didn't peek, just sat there, staring at the ceiling like an idiot. Eventually the steps moved again, this time softer, walking away, vanished. into the trees. Didn't sleep again that night. In the morning, I checked the ground under the window, just to prove to myself nothing was there. But there were prints, not bootprints, not pause either. They looked like bare feet, but longer, toes stretched out like fingers, five on each, but too thin, and spaced weird. I crouched down and stared at them for maybe five whole minutes before I backed away and locked myself inside. I spent that whole day looking for more candles, found a half-used pack of tea lights in the shed, and a few birthday candles tucked into a drawer with some old Soviet

coins and rusty nails. Ugly little things, but I didn't care. I lit four that night, didn't even sleep. Just sat on a chair by the stove with the rifle across my lap, listening. Nothing came. Next morning, I finally opened up Grandpa's notebook again. Started looking more carefully this time. There were pages I didn't notice before, stuck together with that water damage, peeled them apart slow, trying not to tear anything. On one page, in that same sharp handwriting, he'd written. It gets curious when you forget, when you stop respecting the dark. Rough translation.

Next to that, a sketch. Just pencil lines. Rough and fast. A cabin. This cabin and something standing beside it. tall, almost thin enough to be mistaken for a tree if you weren't looking closely. Long arms, no face, just space where a face should be. I shut the book. Haven't opened it again since.

A few more nights passed without much happening. I kept the candle ritual going. Even started timing when I lit them right when the last bit of sun dipped below the tree line. I didn't feel watched exactly, but I didn't feel alone either. Hard to explain. Like the forest had started. paying attention. One evening I was chopping wood out back when I noticed something strange. A stone. Just a regular looking frock, flat and palm-sized, but it wasn't resting on the stump

I had been splitting logs on earlier that morning. I was sure it hadn't been there before. I picked it up, smooth, cold, but it had a single line carved into it. Dead center. Like someone had dragged a nail or a knife across it in one clean stroke. Not a ruin or symbol, just a line. But it didn't look accidental. I looked around the woods, but of course there was nothing, just the usual green stillness. I left the rock on the porch,

thinking maybe it was just a weird little coincidence, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't random. That night, the air was heavier than usual, not storm heavy, just thick. I lit the candles, all three, and went to bed early, didn't even read. Just laid there, watching the candlelight flicker, across the walls like usual. Around midnight, I heard something new, a thud, not loud, but sharp,

like something small falling over. I sat up and looked around the cabin. Everything looked normal, but then I noticed one of the candles had gone out, the one near the stove. I got up thinking maybe the wax burned low or a draft hit it, but as I leaned down to relight it, I saw it, a shape just for a second, in the window glass. Not in the woods, in the reflection. It was behind me. I spun around, heart pounding, but of course there was nothing there, just the other two candles burning in the stove behind them.

No sound, no footsteps, nothing. I read out the candle and stayed awake for the rest of the night, staring into the corners of the room like they were going to move. Next morning, there was something else. The stone was gone from the porch. In its place was a twig, carefully bent into a triangle shape, laid flat where the stone had been.

I didn't touch it. Still haven't. That night, I added a fourth candle, just in case. After that night, with a triangle stick, I started thinking more seriously about leaving. It wasn't panic or anything, just this gnawing feeling in the back of my head

that maybe I'd overstayed my welcome. And maybe the forest didn't want me here long term. It was like I'd been walking around with headphones on, enjoying the piece, and now someone had pulled one ear butt out and whispered, You should go. The weird thing is, nothing actually bad had happened. I wasn't hurt. The cabin was still standing.

The woods weren't any darker than before, but things were adding up in a way I didn't like. The rabbit, the tapping, the candle going out, the reflection, and now this weird little totem left in a place of a stone I didn't ask for. I spent most of the next day pacing the clearing outside of the cabin with a copy, coffee cup that I never actually drank from. I kept looking at the trees, like I was expecting one of them to move wrong. Nothing ever did. I even sat in the car for a while, just to see how it felt. I turned the key, engine started up fine, no problems, just sat there listening to it idle,

wondering if maybe I should pack up, leave before anything escalated, tell myself I'd come back later with a friend or something. But I didn't drive off. Not yet. Later that afternoon, I grabbed up the backpack and hiked a few kilometers into the woods just to clear my head. Brought a thermos and a sandwich like I used to when I was a kid. Took a compass too, because even with GPS I didn't trust the woods, not to screw with your

sense of direction, especially now. I didn't see anyone, of course. Didn't expect to. But while walking, I did find one more thing I couldn't explain. Another candle. Out in the woods. sitting on a flat stone like it had been placed there on purpose. It was burnt down nearly all the way. Wax melted into a little pale pool on the rock. It was identical to the ones I'd been lighting in the cabin.

Same brand, same dull white color, same stubby shape. It was mine. I was sure of it. I didn't touch it. Just looked at it for a while and turned around, walked straight back to the cabin, taking the long ray just in case. That night I didn't wait for the sun to set. Lit five candles this time, every corner of the room. One on the windowsill, one near the bed, even put one outside, on the porch. It was the first night I slept with the rifle with any arm's reach. Still haven't used it. Don't even know if I'd bother shooting at something like this.

Not sure if it'd even help. But it makes me feel a little less alone. I didn't leave the next day, even though I probably should have. Packed my bag, left it by the door, just couldn't. wouldn't bring myself to walk away. It's hard to explain it. Wasn't like I wanted to stay. It's more like the forest didn't want me to go. Like the air itself was leaning in, whispering that I was part of something now and didn't get to just back out of it. I kept the candles going. Of course, even found a half-burned stash of tea lights in the shed behind the cabin. I lined them along

the windowsills and lit them all one night. The cabin looked like a church from the outside, probably, or a shrine. I guess it sort of was. That's when things. started to just feel different. Stranger. Like the thing outside wasn't just hanging around the edges anymore. One morning I stepped out and found stones arranged in a circle right in front of the steps. Not just random, either. They were carefully placed, clean of moss and mud, like they'd just been set. Inside the circle lay single feather. Black, crow maybe, looked untouched by rain or wind. I didn't step on it, just stood there looking at it, like it was waiting for me to react. Later that day, I went out for firewood, took the same trail I'd used all week,

and maybe I was just tired or not paying attention, but I swear the path was different. Trees I didn't remember, a stump with a ring of mushrooms around it that looked too perfect to be natural. It was like the forest had rearranged itself a little bit, just to mess with me, just enough that I noticed. I turned around before I even reached the woodpile and went straight back to the cabin. That night, I lit five candles. I didn't even think, just placed them around the corners of the room one by one. The light felt warmer somehow, heavier, like something was watching, like he was waiting. The knocking didn't come back, but something new did. The walls started to hum, barely audible, like a low vibration deep in the wood. It wasn't mechanical,

more like a sound you'd feel in your bones if you pressed your ear to the floor. I didn't even get scared this time, just lay there listening to it, like it was selling me a story in a language I didn't speak. When I woke up, there was a shape drawn in ash on the table, just a circle with lines crossing through it, looked like it had been traced with someone's finger in the leftover soot from the stove. Again, clean. No mess, no smudge, just sitting there waiting for me to notice. That's when I really started genuinely fucking tweaking. The doors and windows were all closed and locked, but somehow something had gotten inside and did an arts and crafts project on my fucking table. I just started packing up for the second time

thinking about heading back to the city where the forest monsters don't break into your house to show you their aspirations for art school. I don't think the thing was trying to hurt me because if it can get inside, then it probably already had the every chance to do so. I was also starting to think that the reflection I saw in the window a couple days ago

really had been inside the cabin. But I felt that it won something. It kind of feels like it's playing mind games with me. And I'm not sure I want to find out what it planned on doing. once it got bored of these little games. I thought that maybe being in the forest alone and an old cabin might have made me a bit delusional. So I decided to thug it out as the kids would say for one more night, just in case. I really liked the cabin and didn't really want to leave for no good

reason after all, which thinking back I really was acting like a horror movie protagonist. My plan was to see if the supposed Khaja would give me anything clearer or maybe things would stop being so weird. If not, I had planned on driving back to the city. I've got a half tank in the Audi and a week worth of supplies left, so I didn't really have a need to rush. That night felt different. The second the sun's dip below the trees. The kind of silence that presses in around you like a blanket you didn't ask for. I didn't even bother cooking. Just ate some bread and canned meat straight out of the tin, sitting on the front step. The circle of stones was still there. Feather too. Wind hadn't touched it. I lit the candles again,

five this time like before. and sat down with my back to the door. I didn't plan on sleeping. I figured if something wanted to show up, I'd be awake for it. Meet it like a man instead of hiding under a blanket again. But the hours dragged by. Candles burned low.

Nothing happened. I started to feel stupid all over again. And then I heard it. Not knocking. Not scratching. Whistling. A low, slow tune. Like something half remembered from childhood.

Not cheerful, more like a lullaby song under your breath when you think no one's listening. It came from the woods behind the cabin, moving slow like whoever was doing it was walking. Closer, then past, then further. This kind of sound that threads its way through your ribs and makes your heartbeat in a strange pattern. I aimed my rifle at it, tracking its best as I could and just listened. And eventually, it faded. I thought that was it. But when I stood up to check the window, there was something on the inside of the glass.

A fingerprint. Smudged in soot. Dead center. My stomach dropped. Not because it was there, but because it was on the inside. I didn't sleep. Couldn't stop staring at that smudge until the sun came up and turned it into just a shadow on clean glass.

I took a long walk that morning, left the cabin behind, and followed the creek for a few kilometers, just trying to clear my head. Think. I felt like I was staying at some weird crossroads, like I had to pick between pretending this all never happened or giving in to whatever the hell the force wanted me to do. I ended up at the edge of a small clearing I hadn't seen before. Dead center was a tree, tall, thin, half rotten, and hanging from one of the lower branches, tied with some kind of thin woven line, was another feather. This one was white, and under it, scratched into the dirt with something sharp, a symbol, kind of looked like a ruin. I think it was a circle with crossing lines.

I stood there for a long time, contemplating my next move, just staring at a feather, but eventually I decided to take the feather with me, sort of as a keepsake to remember that all of this wasn't a dream, because it sure did feel like a fever dream at times. Then I went back to the cabin, and I packed my bag one last time. It was like something let go. Or maybe I did. I locked the cabin behind me. Got to my car.

Pulled the choke and drove out slowly. Took my time on the bumpy path. Watching the forest in the rear view until it disappeared. Didn't look back. It's been about a year now. I still keep the feather in my desk drawer. I'm back in the capital. Back at the workshop.

The days feel long and tiring, but not in a bad way. Just full. Grease under my nails again. coworkers arguing over time schedules, normal stuff, comfortable. But some nights, when the winds just right and the city noise dips low, I still hear that whistle. Faint. Like it's traveling a long way to get me. I didn't like candles anymore, but I keep a box of tea lights in a drawer. Just in case. I thought about silent in the cabin, haven't gone through with it yet. Recently, I've started to want to go back, maybe bring a friend or two a long time.

to see if anything has changed. If you guys have any info on what this thing might be or any ideas on what I should do with the cabin, then let me know. And I might just have a new story for you guys one day. But for now, thanks for listening to my rambling and good luck. Hey, Snook, I just wanted to say I love your videos. I listen to them every day, even re-watching them, L.O.L.

Thank you for being my comfort YouTuber along with Nextpo. You're amazing and keep doing what you're doing. I'm excited to see you grow. Thank you so much for the kind of words. I really appreciate it. And now into your story. Anyways, this isn't a joke. You can call me tea. I'm an 18-year-old senior in high school. I have many friends but love learning about people. I especially weirdly enough love learning about people's trauma or weird disorders. But moving on, I almost had a sleepover with someone from my school who ended up being involved in an actual murder. But that's not even the scariest part.

She had a full-blown obsession with Richard Ramirez, and I think I was supposed to be her first. We'll call her Ubi. She was in a few of my classes. The kind of girl who mostly stayed silent, always hunched over, eyes darting like she was half listening to voices no one else could hear. I never paid her much attention at first. I just figured she was introverted or dealing with stuff. But one day she started talking to me. Out of nowhere.

She compliment to my art, then my music taste, then she started to say. closer, said she liked how I noticed things other people don't. Now, I'm a very observant person, almost a social genius, LOL, but something about her was interesting to me. Looking back, it wasn't flirting. It was studying. We started talking more during breaks. She was weird, asked me questions like, how would you feel if you couldn't move? And how would you kill someone? She was obsessed with true crime, specifically Richard Ramirez, the night stalker. I think thought she just liked the mystery aspect until she told me she had read every book ever written about him. She said his eyes were beautiful. She said he understood the darkness in people. She said

she felt like she was born in the wrong era that things made more sense back then. I laughed nervously, but she was dead serious. She even showed me a drawing she made of him, kissing a girl who looked just like her. I thought it was just a weird phase, but something about her made me curious. I love people in the brain. I love the mind and learning how people work. I briefly heard about cases like this where people fall in love with serial killers and really wanted to understand it. Then she invited me to a sleepover at her place. At first, I agreed. I didn't really think anything of it. I was trying to be open-minded and gather more information about this obsession. Maybe she was just into creepy stuff like horror fans are, or maybe she had hybristophilia. But then the day before the sleepover,

I came over to hang out early. She said she wanted to show me her art. When I walked into her room, my blood ran cold. Her walls were covered. Covered in photos of Richard Ramirez. I'll add the photos. Some were printed off the internet. Others were torn out of books.

There were post-it notes stuck to its face. One of them literally said, I understand you. One particular photo and photos of crime scenes stuck on a desk like a twisted little altar. And next to it, a roeer. of his books, highlighted, dog-eared, annotated, not like a fan, but like a disciple. She smiled and said nothing, like it was normal. What was I meant to do? At this point, I'm freaked out, but ego standing tall, I believed I'd be safe. I sat on the edge of her bed, trying to

stay calm. My heart was in my throat. That's when she opened a drawer and pulled out a knife. Not a kitchen knife, a black-handed box cutter with something red already dried along the edge. She held it gently, like it was precious. She sat beside me and asked, You like it. I got it last night. I looked at her, nodding and almost observing her. Then she brought it close to me and grazed my face with it,

not sharp enough to cut me, but sharp enough to scratch my skin. She looked at me and said something along the lines of, I wonder how you look decapitated. I froze. She was so calm, so gentle. She wasn't threatening me. And that's what made it worse. She was fantasizing.

I laughed it off, said I needed to pee, walked straight out of that house and never looked back. Blocked her on everything, told my mom I had a bad feeling. That was all I could say. I didn't even fully understand it myself. Three weeks later, she was arrested. A man had been found injured, multiple stab wounds. She attempted to strangle him, and when that didn't go well, she stabbed him. She and two others have been picked up.

One of them talked. She'd been planning it for months, and they found her notebooks filled with writings, some of it sounded like dreams, some of it just pages of names, and one of them was mine. Myself and a few other students had hearts surrounding her names. I don't know what it means. Hell, I don't have evidence. It was even my name, but I know it was. I can't prove I would have been next, but I know how she looked at me, and I know how close I came. I almost slept in the room of a girl who idolized one of the most violent serial killers in her.

history, who wrote love stories about him, who planned and followed through, and who once asked me, with full sincerity, would you be scared if you couldn't move? To this day, I don't know why she didn't pick me, but every time I close my eyes, I still see that wall. Don't ignore red flags, everyone. Trust your gut. Some people don't want to be saved. They want someone to suffer with. Please do not be dumb like I was and put yourself in the situation I did. and I'm going to talk for a second while the photo she included is shown on screen so you can get a better look at it. But that was scary as hell. I'm glad you got out all right.

That's something of nightmares. And yeah, like I said, I'm glad you got out all right. That lady is a psychopath or that girl is a psychopath. And I'm super sad to hear that some poor guy got caught in her crosshair, so to say. And hopefully you didn't include if he died or not, but attempted murder, murder. I'm not sure. but hopefully that guy's all right and hopefully she's in jail for a long time and gets the help that she needs it. Thank you so much for sending in the story. On to the next one.

I work overnight at a gas station and rural Indiana. Here's my story. I, 22 male, work overnight at a small gas station, a couple miles off the highway, in a small town in Indiana. The town itself is small and there isn't really anything crazy that goes on here. It's the kind of place you would just drive right past and not even realize it's even there. I've been working at the store for a little over a year and haven't experienced anything out of the ordinary, that is, until a few nights ago. I clocked in at 10 p.m. as usual and said goodbye to my coworker that was working the shift prior to mine. As she left, I finished ringing up customers and started my nightly duties. Everything was slow, a customer every few hours just looking for some gas or a snack, maybe a pack of cigarettes.

Pretty normal night. At around 2 a.m. I was stocking the the cigarettes behind the counter when I heard the sound of our doorbell ring, letting me know someone is in the store. But when I turned around, nobody was there. Weird, I said to myself, thinking it was just a small malfunction. I continued stalking when, out of nowhere, the lights flickered off and back on, only a half a second. Our registers were completely knocked off line as well, as our gas pumps. I tried calling our store manager and our help desk, but had no signal. Great, I muttered as I locked the doors. I went to clean up the store and mop when I heard what sounded like someone walking through the store.

I rushed up front, but again, nobody was there. I checked the entire building, even the back room and the bathroom. Not a single person inside. That's when I looked at the window. There by the gas pumps was a man. Around 6'2, 235 pounds, just standing there. No car, not moving, just standing there looking at the beach. building. I got a little weirded out, but tried not to think too much of it. I went back to cleaning

and just assumed he would leave. Around 10 minutes later, I heard someone trying the door. It was him. I peeked my head around the corner slowly and tried getting a better look at him. He had a scar on his cheek and a scruffy beard with ungroomed with dark hair. I noticed that he had a significant amount of blood on his hands. From what I could see, though, he wasn't bleeding. I grabbed a piece of paper and a marker and wrote in big bold letters temporarily closed sorry for any inconvenience and showed it to him through the glass door when he read it he just simply walked off no reaction no being annoyed or angry just left i immediately picked up the phone to dial the non-emergency line but again no service i decided to continue my cleaning and pray that he just didn't come back

around 20 to 30 minutes go by, and I had almost forgotten about the man, until I heard the sound of someone at the door again. Before I could even get out to the front, I heard a loud thud. Then another. It sounded like someone was banging on the glass. Then I heard the sound of glass shattering. I didn't hesitate, and I ran into the restroom and locked the door. I saw him climbing in through the door, with a rock sitting on the ground. After locking myself in the bathroom, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps, slowly making the way to the bathroom door. Then, silence. I waited a moment before hearing the sounds of loud, banging, and screams from the other side of the door. After a while, the sound stopped. I heard more footsteps leaving the door, heard him walking around the store,

and heard the doorbell once again. After waiting a while longer and not hearing anything, I decided to risk it and leave the bathroom. The store was a wreck, shells knocked over, blood everywhere. But the worst part, nothing was taken. No inventory, no money, nothing. I hopped in my car and drove down to a store closer to the highway so I could get service again and call the police. After doing an investigation, he determined that it wasn't an attempt at a robbery. He wasn't there to steal money. I fear he was there for something much more sinister. Hey, Snook, I'm a new viewer. I've been watching your videos, your subscribers, one specifically, so I wanted to share one, not of myself, but of my dad. He tells me lots of

stories from his childhood, but this one stood out to me. To start this story, my dad is extremely religious. He's always been religious and praise to God every day, every meal, and every drive. But he's not strictly religious to myself or my siblings. He was always a jolly, happy, go lucky, helpful man. As a kid, I always wondered why he does so. I knew it was good, but never understood the purpose of it. So I asked him, why do you always pray to God? My dad went seriously pale. He processed for a good minute, sat me down, and told me the story of how he swears he met the devil when he was a kid. To make the layout of his house easy to imagine, the house was a one-story house on a ranch. There's a little brick wall right next to the porch of the house. There's clear acres straight across they own, and then a large

forest on both sides. Now, my dad's the middle child of 13 other kids, so he was forced to play with his other siblings, my aunts and uncles. It was near midnight, and my uncles wanted to play hide and his siblings, ran to hide. My dad decided to hide in the forest because he knew his sister was too scared to go look in the forest. My dad didn't go far, only a good three or two feet from the edge. My dad hid behind a tree and waited. My dad waited for a good minute until they heard heavy breathing. My dad was surprised but assumed maybe she found their other siblings and send their brother, Chui, to go check the forest. My uncle Chui was on the heavy side as a kid, which is why my dad assumed it was him. My dad called out, Chui, and glanced over.

My dad told me he wished it was chewy. My dad saw something unbelievable, something so terrifying that he almost wet himself. He saw this huge, and I mean huge man or beast. He's still unsure. Its eyes were unsettling and uncanny. They were bright, like if they were glowing and fur or fuzzy sticking out of the cheeks, just watching my dad. My dad immediately bolted and ran back inside.

my dad finished the story with the saying everyone was already inside and your grandma was yelling at me that where was I for 20 minutes I have more stories to say about what goes on around my life and if you want to know more feel free to email me

thanks for your time and wow that's super interesting thank you so much for sharing and yeah definitely feel free to send in more stories and any of you guys watching if you want to send in stories if you didn't catch the intro

you know send them into the email in the description or my About Me on YouTube. Yeah, send in a story. I read them all. And anyways, on to the next one. Hey, Snoke, you can just call me Eric. I love your videos so much. I've been listening since you've had less than 100K subs.

Always been a huge fan. Your stories make working and cleaning tolerable, and I'm so glad I found your channel. Thank you so much for the kind of words. I really, really appreciate that. And now into your story. Sorry if this isn't super long, but I'm sure you and many other people

would find it interesting and creepy. be and sorry if there are any grammatical errors. I'm not exactly the best storyteller slash writer, but I'll try my hardest. The story is about my aunt. So it was Christmas 2004. I was just under a year old at the time, and my brother was four. Every year on my mom's side of the family, we would have a Christmas party with family members, and they'd all give each other gifts and eats, you know, regular Christmas stuff, but my mother noticed that her step-sister didn't show up to the party. After many missed calls and failed attempts to contact her, she was getting sort of concerned,

so she drove up to her house. After a bit of knocking, nothing. This was very odd just knowing the person she is. She wouldn't have missed the Christmas party, plus she said she was going to come. So naturally, my mother gets concerned after a few hours and decides to call the police to go check on her. Apparently, since it was Christmas Day,

the cops were being dicks about wanting to go in the house, saying things like, oh, she probably is out with friends, just because they didn't want to work. So my mother was like, all right, if you guys don't go in, I'm breaking in the house myself, which then they reluctantly agreed to go inside and look for her. My mother nervously waited outside with a look of great sadness. The cops walked back out. I'm sorry, but she's passed away, they said.

Apparently she was holding a gun, dead in her closet, gifts still waiting to be wrapped on the table. whilst in workout attire, according to my mom, which is just so unusual for someone who is going to, you know, commit S-word, but of course the cops ruled it as an S-word, and to this day, nothing has ever come of it. And this is where it gets terrifying. For starters, right after she died, her husband moved away to Norway, which me personally, I believe, is super suspicious. This already had my mother speculating that he had something to do with her death, but she couldn't be 100% sure, of course. Then something completely bizarre happened.

To this day, my mom has no rational explanation for this. Just a couple days after my aunt's death, my brother, a toddler, by the way, goes up to my mother and says, Aunt El told me you need to go to her house and find the second bullet in the wall, and that there's a key under a rock and that you need to find out what really happened to her,

something like that. Which is completely crazy because my brother didn't know she had died, but apparently my aunt had been talking to him. My mother was so freaked out, he grabbed my brother and sat him in front of the cops who tell him what he was saying, and unfortunately, they didn't do anything about it. So my mom went to the house to look for this key my brother was talking about, and again, nothing came of it. So that's pretty much where this specific story ends. And I hope that one day the person who did that to my aunt gets caught because I wholeheartedly believe that she did not commit.

S word. Some other smaller things I'll share about my brother. Apparently, he was always experiencing paranormal shit ages two to five years old and remembers none of it. Here are some of those stories. Every night for months straight, he would have a reoccurring nightmare where three crows, one fat, one skinny, one tall, would come to him and tell him he was going to lose three things, which is pretty fucking weird thing to be dreaming about as a little kid. When my mom used to work at a mattress firm, She'd bring my brother to work, and multiple times he would run to her crying saying he was seeing people walk through the walls and the bathrooms. When I was a little baby, one night, my brother was sleepwalking, repeating the phrase, the baby's room is on fire. And when my parents heard him, they checked on my room and saw a cord in the corner sparking and smoking.

I have so many more scary stories, but that's just some of the creepiest ones I've heard from my mom. Apparently my brother doesn't remember any of this. And I hope you at least enjoyed reading them, and it'd be super cool to see this in a video. Eric. And yeah, thank you so much for sending them in. If you have any more scary stories, feel free to send them in. Thanks, Eric. Hello, Snook, I'm a relatively new viewer. I've been watching you for a few months now. I enjoy putting your videos on while I draw. It's great background noise, and I love hearing other stories. Whether this ends up in a video or not, I'm grateful just to be able to share my story with someone. You can call me cat. This happened when I was about 13 years old.

We moved out of our old house after a divorce. And into a building built around the 1800s, an old governance building. It was set up weird. We were on the third floor. Take two sets of spiral stairs up, and immediately on the left was a door that led into the room I stayed in. Down the hall was the main door. Anyways, I just moved my room around and set up my blue night light, since I hate the dark. It was night, and I was laying in bed after finishing a game. I was on my phone for a bit, and I looked up to see the silhouettes of a man at the end of my bed. My door never opened. It creaked, so I would have known. I freaked out and hid under my covers. Picking out, it was gone. I remember the image of it so vividly, too. I'm 20 now and I still think about it. The nightlight was behind it and the weird thing was there was no catchlight on the man, just a pure black shadow. I know it's not long, but it still freaks me out to think about. It's not the only weird thing that happened there, but it was definitely the weirdest thing I witnessed. I was in my late teens, 16 or 17, and I wanted to be. I was in my late teens, 16 or 17, and I wanted to be.

proof of the realm beyond living. So I decided to play a Ouija board. For a better response, I pricked my finger with a pin and put blood on the sides of the board and started asking questions, which worked. But I said, it's probably just me moving it. So after I was done playing with it, I said goodbye, but for some reason, that didn't work. Maybe because after I burned the Ouija board, a couple of days went by and nothing happened. Then one night, I woke up and couldn't move my body. I was stuck on my bed. I had sleep paralysis in the past, but this one was different. I saw what looked like to be a person,

but it was a black mist as a body and had glowing green eyes so bright like LEDs, just light, no eyes. At first, I was scared and shocked. Then a wave of courage came upon me, and I couldn't move my mouth, so I talked to my head, saying, get the F out of my house. You don't belong here. Meantime, I was still trying to move.

I was trying to pick my head up while yelling at it in my head. All of a sudden, I moved my head a little, and then everything started shaking, and I passed out. I think somehow that demon knocked me out without even touching me. I've never had an experience like that since. I don't know if I scared it off or if it's waiting for me when I'm weak. Just knowing those things exist makes me believe in stories like the one you tell on your channel. Thanks for reading, Snook. First off, I'd like to say that I know that rakes aren't real, given they are a creature spawn from the stories you'd find on Reddit or 4chan.

I know all about the lore and stories from those places even prior to this event. However, it's the closest thing in appearance that I feel confident enough in relating to what I had seen that night. During the pandemic, I found myself thrown out of a previous living arrangement and needed some place to say. Now, I've never had the best relationships with my family, but figured it'd be worth a shot to give my myself a roof over my head, so I swallowed what little pride I had and rang them up. After some time I found myself living with them in Florida, far from home back in Maryland. With no job or responsibilities to occupy my time, I did what any adult in their early 20s would do. Play Pokemon Go. The place where my family was staying out was in a small condo community in Fort Myers, Florida.

It was a nice place and had a biking trail directly behind the units, which was nice because I loved to skate up and down it while playing Pokemon Go. This became a habit of mine and I really didn't care when I did this ritual and soon found myself out late hours of the night playing to my heart's content. One particular night, while heading towards the bike trail, I was walking along the side of the tree line leading up to the trail. In the midpoint between the condos and the trail was a street light illuminating the street on the other side of the tree line, sort of like a barrier of trees separating the small grass patch and the street opposite to it. That is where I saw it. Obviously distracted by whatever Pokemon I was hurling balls at in my app, I heard rustling beside me.

I turned to look and see just between the trees, digging through the leaf letter, a man, or what I thought was a man. Though I soon realized he was in fact completely naked, with no hair on his body at all, with very pale skin. My body, before taking in any more information, sent itself into overdrive from fear. Never have I ever had such a physical reaction to anything before my life, and certainly not out of fear. I sprinted what I deemed safe haven in that moment as the widest open area with the streetlight above, which actually wasn't very far from where I had seen the creature, and in reality probably wasn't far enough, in fact, a real threat. I took the long way back home that night, and I never actually saw the being again, as I still frequented that same spot a couple weeks after the incident.

the hair on my neck still stands up thinking about it. And honestly, I can only hope it was a homeless man or some druggie because imagine in a world where something like that exists is just too much. Thanks for what you do. Enjoy your summer snook. And thank you so much. And I hope you guys enjoy your summer, everyone watching this video. And that wraps up some spooky, true scary stories.

Let me know what you thought about this video down below. Did you enjoy the stories? What was your favorite story? I really loved the first and second one. the serial killer one, Richard Romero's girl. I'm glad you got it out. The first one was long and lengthy, but super entertaining.

I loved all the stories in this video. Thank you, everybody who submitted their stories. I really, really appreciate it. And that wraps up today's video. Comment down below. Would you like to see shorter videos, longer videos, somewhere in between like this? I appreciate you guys watching.

Please like the video and subscribe to the channel if you haven't already. It helps so much you don't even know. And yeah, this was Snook. And I'll see you next time. Bye.