Snook - Terrifying True 4Chan Stories

Episode Date: May 28, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to another 4chan stories video. And today we're going to be getting into some terrifying true 4chan stories. You guys love the true stories. I love them as well. And they're from 4chan. So, you know, they have pretty good stories on there. So thank you so much for stopping by. Please sit back, relax, and yeah, get ready to listen to some terrifying true 4chan stories.

Please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It helps so much. You don't even know. And I just appreciate you stopping by. And all right, without further ado, let's get into some terrifying. terrifying true 4chan stories. Preface. My cousin's a good man.

Working guy. No college because he was military and then effed up with drugs. Quit him the day he had his first kid though, and he's been clean as a whistle ever since. He's gruff, occasionally to the point of dickishness, but he's good at heart. He quits drugs, like I say, and he does contracting work for a solid 30 years to support his kids,

invests a retirement fund into a can't miss company, his old friend recommends, supposedly on the back of insider information. Company goes under, and my cousin, who has sold his own very small business, is back to square one, at age 60. So he buys a big-ass cargo van and takes to the road, driving loads of whatever anyone needs move to anywhere they need it moved. These are his stories, not mine. One.

Cuzz has been on the road for a few months at this point. He's made enough money to upgrade his van, and he's got a deep. season little setup in. Turns out you can buy vans that have little cots that fit nicely into the ceiling of the vehicle. And if there's room in his load, he just takes the cot down and sleeps in the back of the van to save money on hotels. So he's rushed delivering a load of bolts from this wholesaler in Indiana to a tool and dye shop in North Carolina. Wasn't even going to take the job. He's already driven 10 hours that day, and you're supposed to not exceed a certain number of hours in a given period, but he's a private contractor, and nobody regulates this shit. Besides,

rush deliveries pay damn nicely, especially when there's a motivated buyer at the far end of the run. Maps out a nine-hour route southeast through Kentucky and Tennessee into North Carolina. Leaves at 6.30 p.m. Load needs to be in an hour before open of business next day, i.e. at 8 a.m., meaning he has 12 and a half hours to make the nine-hour trip. Loses one hour from CTT-E-T, loads up on coffee and gas, and takes off like a bat out of hell. hard driving at dust through unfamiliar states, especially as you get up into the Appalachians. He starts to nod, despite the coffee, as he approaches the Tennessee-slash-Nor-Korlorlorlor he's about five hours in at this point, and that makes 15 of the past 17 hours total.

Remember, he's clean, so he can't use any crank to stay awake, decides to pull over in the middle of nowhere, up in the mountains. Dark as shit. Takes a random exit, since he can't find any rest stops. pulls off the freeway, no signs regarding gas stations, restaurants, nothing, anywhere in sight. At the end of the on-ramp is a stop sign in a long, straight, old-ass road stretching off in either direction. Turns right and tries to find a business or something to park in and catch a few inks. Nothing anywhere. Finally sees a little gravel road peeling off the main road after apparently five miles of nothing.

Pulls over, parks the car, and gets outside. Warm and wet. It's the middle of summer, even though he's in the mountains. Bugs are loud as shit. Yanks up in the back of the van door. Climes up, takes down his cot on top of the boxes, sets it up, closes the door, locks it, and settles in for two hours of sleep before he starts again.

Sets three alarms, as always. Sleeping. Thump. He wakes up. The bugs are silent. His heart is going crazy. He's worried he was dreaming. Tries to set his breath.

Thumb. something smashing into the side of the van, a loud, piercing scream from outside. Now, the van can't be unlocked from the outside, but he also can't get to the front of the van from the back of the van. There's a wall between the seats and the back end, so my cousins out in the middle of nowhere, in the mountains, with something screaming and slamming into the van, in the middle of the night, with no cell service and no way to get out of here without going outside. Thumb. Trying to think of what he can do and try not to fuck. fucking panic. He is up in the mountains and all of a sudden he's worried that whatever's out there

is trying to push him off a cliff or something. It screams again. He has no gun, just a large pocket knife and a tire iron. Light bulb takes his keys and hits the alarm button. The van starts going apeshit and whatever is out there really does not like it. Start smashing the van wildly. Then it screams, I know you're in there. Come the fuck out. Oh great. It's some random fucking hillbilly hopped up on meth, smashes in the driver's side window, and starts frantically rummaging through Cousin's stuff. Cus hears his opportunity. Grab as a tire iron in one hand and holds the knife closed in the other. Flings open the back end of the truck and sprints around the van. By the flashing alarm lights, Cousin sees that the meth head is completely naked and covered in his own blood.

Meth head charges at him. He sidesteps and whips the tire iron right into the dude's fucking skull. Guy crumples to the ground. Cousin frantically raises back, closes the back door, hops in the van, and drive straight through to the delivery site in North Carolina, leaves the fucking meth head in a heap on that dirt road. He was way too fucking wired to sleep for days afterwards and stayed in hotels for a while after that, even after his windows were repaired, and even though it was expensive as shit. There was no car, bike, or evidence had the meth head got to the van except by walking. My cousin claims that he said, scoured Google news for reports of a dead man found out there for months, but none ever came in.

So God only knows whatever happened to that fucking guy. My cousin bought a gun before leaving North Carolina. So my cousins learned his lesson about never fucking driving loads without a gun, and he ends up needing that gun in another story I could tell. It's not really paranormal per se, but if people are into hearing it, I'll write it up. He's also learned, like a lot of drivers do, that the real money is out west, driving long-ass halls to various podunk old mining towns still trying to stay alive in the mountains and or the desert that's big open unforgiving country and there aren't many people willing to and or capable of driving across it for 12 hours trying to beat a deadline there are even fewer drivers you can count on to do it consistently since just about all the ones willing to do it in the first place are souped up on meth coke whatever the fuck else will keep them up long enough to see a delivery through to the completion My cousin, as we've established, is clean and has been for a very long time.

He's a hard worker. He's desperate for cash, and he's got a good van. He doesn't make excuses, and he doesn't get pulled over driving loads of shit he hasn't weighed. All this means that my cousin is a very in-demand man. And what's more? It means that he ends up doing a lot of high leverage jobs, jobs that need to be done quickly and correctly, and as such, jobs that pay very, very well. Our second story begins with my uncle being asked to do such a job. A good, trustworthy dispatcher has a client who needs a shitload of parts delivered to his business in Flagstaff for an order that needs to be assembled and sent off ASAP. They need the parts by tomorrow.

Problem is, my uncle is in Denver. And that's an 11-hour drive through hard mountains and desert. Making matters worse, the load is technically too heavy for his van. The client is desperate, however, and the dispatcher is willing to pay a ludicrous amount of money to get these things there on time. I'm talking $3,000 for 11 hours of work, with gas paid for. So, fine, my cousin, sorry, called him uncle in the last post. I've always called him Uncle Bill since he's so much older than me.

I assure you that he is, in fact, my cousin and not my uncle, hooks up with the dispatcher and they load the van as full as it's ever been. If a cop pulls him over, my cousin is fucked. He sets out plenty early, after a full night's rest, unlike the North Carolina incident. Most of the drive is uneventful, though a cop does pull alongside my cousin in Utah, and I am suspiciously,

before peeling off to pull over a speeder. My cousin heads south through Navajo Nation, just as the sun begins to set. This is his first time in the nation, and he's going in with the darkness. Yes, you do know where this is going. It's creepy out there, in the middle of nowhere, my cousin says.

He happens to just get the most beautiful night, stars as far as the eye can see. He feels like his van could just lift off right off that old-ass highway and float off through them. He's passing the time pleasantly enough, thinking back to time spent on the reservation back in the Midwest, were part a joby, when something catches the corner of his eye.

Black blurs fit in along the very edge of his brights, off to the left and way far ahead. He turns his head as he drives past, but of course he can't see anything since it's dark as hell. But the shapes persist. He rubs his eyes, shakes his head, and tries to refocus on the road. But they're still there. He's gone several miles now, but the shapes are staying in front of him.

He wonders if there's something wrong with his headlights, maybe a dead bug on one of them. Then there's a long, flat patch of desert illuminated by the moon, and he gets his first good look. Wolves, maybe a quarter of a mile directly to the left of his car? Nah. One wolf running weirdly, but keeping up with him? As soon as he thinks this, the wolf starts to lag behind a bit, and he has to deliberately remind himself to pay attention to the road so that he doesn't veer off of it. But when he checks back, the wolf is still lingering, still a quarter mile off, still

shuffling weirdly, about perpendicular to his blind spot. He's losing it. He decides, no fucking way, right? But the wolf keeps going. And then something happens, my cousin says, which he will never forget. He doesn't like to tell this story, or any story. Really, he's a quiet dude. And in fact only told me, after we had seen one another for the first time in over a year,

and after we'd been up all night at a family event. But he swears it's true. Disturb, he checks for cops and bumps his van up to 80 miles an hour, trying to leave the fucking weird-ass cheetah wolf behind. For a second, it seems like the wolf is fully behind him. And he's satisfied. But then, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, and he breaks out in a cold sweat.

Something twitches in the corner of his eye. He looks over his shoulder. It's the fucking wolf. It's keeping up with him again. Only this time, it's running on its hind legs. My cousin takes a double take, eyes bugging out of his fucking head and floors it. Then the wolf takes an angle of pursuit.

He's frantically looking over his shoulder now and back at a speedometer, hardly glancing at the road. The wolf is drawing closer, even as my cousin pushes the pedal down. Before too long, the wolf is running on the edge of the road. Then slowly, it starts to veer across the other, lane. About a mile ahead, my cousin sees two big headlights barreling down the opposite lane.

He decides he is going to do everything in his power to make sure that the semi hits the fucking wolf because he is in a full-on fucking adrenaline-fueled panic. Gulping, sweating so badly his hands are slipping on the wheel, breathing loudly through his mouth, the wolf keeps inching closer. Finally, my cousin flat out floors it with everything he's got. The engine winds, straining against the heavy load. The semi-barrels towards the, them. And in the instant before the semi hits the wolf, blaring its horn as loudly as it can, the wolf is right next to my cousin's driver's side window. I've never heard Bill lie before. This is what he says happens. I don't know what to believe. It presses its body flat against the car,

and it stretches into black shadow. Eventually, he swears, it takes on a humanoid form, with exaggerated facial features that it presses against his window. As the semi blazes past, it smashes its huge eyes and sheshire cat grin flat against his window to the point where it fogs up on the outside. He can't tear his eyes from its eyes. It's the most malicious smile he's ever seen and something feels wrong. I see cold in the very core of him. Once the semi has passed, the thing leaps away, shrieking with ear-splitting laughter and perching on a nearby rock. My cousin can hardly breathe and he vomits into the sea next to him and continues to floor it.

The thing stays behind, screaming and gasping with laughter. He makes it to the drop, still fucking cold and nauseous, and he can't look the client in the eye. He smells like vomit, and he tells the client this story. Again, Bill's a very quiet and a very private dude. He must have been very shaken to say anything about this shit to a stranger. The client is certain that he's drunk, and my cousin never delivers for him, or drives through the nation again. At the urging of one of the workers at the client's warehouse, Cuzz goes to see a novel, a home medicine man who brushes him with feathers and gives him a blessing my cousin pukes again

and feels right as rain and that's the story of the time my cousin met a skinwalker all right i've got a handful more of little ones if any was interested they're not stories most of them just odd things cuz ran across out on those roads takers or should i get some sleep all righty let's see well he once saw either a very large alligator or a crocodile, basking in the middle of a highway in eastern Washington state. Apparently, it was an escaped pet, but he felt like an insane person when he called the cops to let him know that an animal that does not

and has not for literally millions of years live in their state was just chilling and basking in the middle of the road. Some random and extremely creepy woman with very pale skin and long, straight black hair, followed him through three states. Louisiana, Arkansas. in Tennessee, usually pulling alongside him and glaring at him angrily from the adjoining's lane, refusing to pass or drop behind him, no matter how fast or slow he was driving.

A couple of guys tried to carjack a load of paper, literally printer paper. They didn't believe him when he told him how worthless his cargo was, off of him in Gary, Indiana, until he waved his gun at them. Finally, he drove through a random town in southern Illinois in which seemingly everyone was outside in the front yard, doing nothing at all but with. watching the cars go by. They weren't like completely motionless or anything, but they all did seem to be watching the road very intently, like multiple hundreds of people. He said it was extremely unsettling. I can give more background for any of those if you want. I'll try to remember some

other ones in the meantime. The one about the whole town being in their front yard sounds like a straight-up horror movie. I'd fucking lose it if I saw that. Right? I mean, to hear him tell it, it was about as normal as such a thing could be. People were out in lawn chairs. Some kids were running around. Some people were eating and or talking to one another. There were dogs and shit like that. It wasn't like everyone was frozen, jaws agape, etc. But they were all facing the road. In looking at it kind of expectantly, he said it felt like he was driving through the middle of an invisible parade. The lady one is legitimately spook. The thought of being followed or tracked or stocked by something unnatural is fucked. I should clarify, this wasn't a ghost or anything like.

that, just a weird, aggressive, angry-looking lady. She drove a green car, it had Louisiana plates, and a dent in the back right corner. We think she must have mistaken him for someone else and wanted to pull over. In a way, the fact that it's a real person, indisputedly, materially real, makes it creepier than something ethereal, which might be the product of your mind playing tricks on you, but that's just me. At my aunt and uncles in rural Wisconsin, late at night. I can't sleep. Go outside and have a smoke. It's October, so pretty chilly but no snow. Super quiet. Newish moons, so also very dark. They live on a lot of land that is relatively unclear. Except for the house and some outbuildings, it's all trees and trails with a big boggy patch in the middle.

Still not sleepy, so I start wandering their plot. Take a trail into the trees. Come out to a little outcropping with the bog before me. Still very quiet. Wasn't exactly spooked, but I got that sudden feel of eyes on me. Look around, but nothing but moon shadows and reads. Something laughs at me. Couldn't tell if it was in my head or actual sounds, but it was very loud, unfriendly laughter. Just a joke at my expense. Brush animals burst into a frenzy all around.

Dozens of birds winged the fuck out of there, squawking in what sounded like a deer maybe crashed with the brush. Stood there like a frozen idiot, all the nature around me, noped the fuck. fuck out. I soon followed suit. Didn't sleep a wink that night. Uncle gets up at the dawn and finds me nursing and coffee in the kitchen. Tell him what happened earlier. Try to laugh about it, but he seems unpleasantly surprised and resigned. Stares at me for a moment. Takes a deep breath and tells me to follow him. Uncle leads me to the cellar and me go down the steps, haven't been down there in years and years. There's a door on the far wall I don't remember ever seen. Ask him where the fuck that goes after he opens it his stark blackness.

He gives me a look as he snags a lantern from a shelf by the door and says, Old Root Cellar, my grandpa dug. Follow me. Walk into a small square room that has a rough tunnel in the back corner. Looks kind of like a mine shaft, but rather short. Wood trusses ever few feet.

You know what I mean. Tunnel isn't very long. We walk for maybe a full minute. Come to the end of the tunnel. A rough door. It's just a slab of old wood held in place by some cinder block along the bottom. We move it out of the way and step through into the gray dawn.

I look around blinking the dark from my eyes and adjusting to the light. Realize we're just a handful of yards downwind from where I had stood last night overlooking the bog. Look at my uncle to see him studying me expectantly. This is about where you were last night, yeah? All I can do is nod. I hadn't told him where I'd heard the laughter. He starts telling me about his family first settled on this land from Norway.

Strange sounds and things had always plagued the boggy area. his grandfather had done most of the building and clearing of the land and had inexplicably died shortly after digging out the root cellar. He had apparently been obsessed with this root cellar, and had never allowed anyone but himself inside, not even to just grab a jar of pickles. After his grandpa died, my uncle and his brother finally went down to investigate the root cellar, and that's when they found the tunnel. At this point, he motions me to go to the back through the door, and we walk about halfway back through the tunnel. Here at a slight bend, he stops. and looking at me moves the light close of the wall.

There was a hole here. I hadn't noticed on way through the first time. My uncle, visibly pale now, and a slight shake to his hand, asked me if I want to take a look. Something in his voice tells me I fucking shouldn't, but I can't resist. I peer over the rim of this hole, absolutely pitch black, and the light seems to be swallowed by it in an off-putting way,

like it's barely penetrating it. Oh, shit, balls, as I hear the same laughter again but so much louder, nearly break my neck spinning around to look at my uncle. His eyes are wide. He heard it too. Seems frozen in place. Against my very instincts, I look again. Eyes or something, dimly reflecting the lantern light back at us.

Dozens of them. I stare in petrified fascination as a wet, fetid air seems to leak from the hole. More growing laughter comes with this stench. Something finally breaks within us and we absolutely book it back up the tunnel and into the cellar. What the fuck was that I yelled at him? as we catch our breath by now, firmly slammed root cellar door, uncle shakes his head. He has no idea.

Said he hadn't been in the cellar himself since the day he and his brother had first investigated and discovered that. Over the years, he had tried to convince himself it had just been a youthful fancy. When I told him earlier about the laughter, it brought that crumbling down. He laughed shakily and says ignorance is bliss, but he felt he had to take him down there. I agree as I stare at the thick door of the root cellar. He tells me how, though autopsy had ruled his grandpa's death as natural causes, his grandmother had a different story to tell. According to her, his grandfather had been found belly up in the bog with his eyes scooped out and no other visible injuries. Apparently, the rest of the family at the time had reacted very poorly to this, but the grandmother had been the one to discover his corpse.

At this moment, I recalled my uncle's brother had committed S word, but I didn't know anything more than that. I hesitantly asked him about this. He looked at me a long while. Yes, he said. He was found dead of a gunshot wound in the chest, in no eyes. After this, my uncle actually started to cry, so we just got blind drunk that day after he called off work, and we have never spoken about that morning again.

I gathered from some further drunken ramblings before I passed out that he's terrified he'll be found dead one day, with his eyes gouged out. He's still alive, and they still live there. I don't know what I'll do if he's found dead like that. Well, I guess since this is becoming more of a spooky camping thread, I'll post mine. Since it's kind of long, I'm not going to green text. I was in the Boy Scouts until about sixth grade.

In the summer before I quit, I went to a summer camp in a muggy Florida Mars Savannah area. If you've ever been to Florida in the summer, you know it gets ridiculously hot and humid and rainy. So the summer camp was a complete disaster weather-wise, but me and a few friends didn't like it for a very different reason. Now, each camp had a colossal pavilion in the center, surrounded by assorted pelmentos and tents. These tents were a-frame-style permanent tents atop rotting pallets, which made the whole camp look like an abandoned military base. These a-frames were made of disgusting, 20-plus-year-old tarps that insulated really well. This was a fucking nightmare in South Florida because moisture plus heat would stay in each tent and make each night a living hell

for its residents. Add mosquitoes the size of your ball sack and the entire campout was a disaster. Our scoutmaster was a giant douche so he made us earn a minimum of 10 merit badges that week, so that meant we had to attend 10 classes to earn them. These classes took place and screened pavilions around the main mess hall at the center of the giant camp round. With some of the bigger merit badges, whittling, archery, next to the mess hall and the smaller less important ones, birdwatching, electricity, were only accessed by a single dirt trail and a 10-minute walk. I'm a pretty natural leader,

so I led one of those inner-circle kind of clubs within my troop, called the Blind Qualas or some other stupid name, so we could have a koala bear with glasses and a cane flying over our camp like the little jokesters we were. I convinced my fellow koalas to take 10 super easy marra badges so we could only get done early, and we snuck our Game Boy advances into camp, so we can hang out in the woods and play our new Pokemon games.

Ruby and Sapphire had just come out. My friends were all for it, so we did just that. We snuck out really fucking far into the woods outside the camp, off the regular path and into the Savannah. We made it out at about 3 o'clock. But before we started to play our game where no one could find us, we saw a really rundown house. When I say house, I don't mean a cabin,

or even a concrete block where the rangers live. I mean, full-on chimney and porch, suburban home just plopped in the middle of the fucking woods like a bad Photoshop, with no roads leading up to it. This place would have looked perfect, had it not looked like Father Time took a dump on it. It was kind of blocked by the pine trees, so we didn't see it coming out.

We went up to the window on its porch and peeked inside. Boxes piled above eye level filled the entire house, no furniture or anything, just boxes of what appeared to be magazines, newspapers, and other printed material. The only other thing besides these boxes where was a broken wheelbarrel leaning against the window on the opposite side. We were about to open the door to go inside, no matter how scared we were, because we wanted to

check out those boxes. Then the most blood-curdling noise ever came from the house. The only way I could describe it is like someone twanging the piano wire from the inside of the piano, so it came out twang, twang, twang, twang. It was so unnatural and unnerving, we booked it the hell out of there and ran to the mess hall. Apparently, we had been gone for two hours, but it felt like five minutes. The sun hadn't even changed in the sky. They kept saying it was 5.30, but the sun was barely where it would be at 3.

It didn't go down until 8th that night for some reason. It got so much worse, though. When it got dark that night, it got really fucking dark. At 8, the sun just barely disappeared to the horizon. At 9, you wouldn't have remembered what the sun looked like. And we kept fire going and trying to calm our nerves after the house, we found yelling on us. Eventually, we had enough slim gyms and ghost stories and went to our grotty-ass a-frame. I was kind of fat back then, so I was eating alive by mosquitoes every night, and I had placed a

mosquito net over my cot to save me from the wretched onslaught. It did minimum amounts of protecting and acted as more of a shitty curtain. I tried going to sleep, but it was just so fucking hot in the A-frame, I had to remove everything but my boxer briefs to stay cool. About two in the morning, I think I heard a loud thong from the next tent over. I jolted right up and entangle myself in my net and scramble on the rotting pallets free myself. I ran through and fall into the cut conveniently placed ant pile underneath the pallet. I managed to save myself before I could eat in, but I was so groggy and so much adrenaline

through my bloodstream, I barely knew what was going on before I heard another loud thonk a foot away. The a-frame collapsed on top of me in my bunkmate and we crawled out from underneath. I looked next door to the other a frames and watched them fall like dominoes, each with a sickening thunk as the pillars holding them up fell down. I could barely make out a tall figure in red and white dart from behind one of the tents to another, but I couldn't tell. It was too early in the morning to make a positive ID. It was chaos. My whole troop had collapsed a frames and the entire pillar to erect the fucking thing was broken. The piece to slide into the palette had snapped to clean off, and now these a frames were old, but it's still pretty difficult to break a four by four inch

block of wood in two with one swipe. I ran out in the in my boxer briefs to make sure everyone was okay, and we told our douche scoutmaster someone had knocked down every A-frame in the camp. He marched down to the camp ranger and told him, and he said he'll go out and help us find the guy who did it. About an hour and a half later, the camp director drives up in a Jeep with some sort of fat kid in a black ninja outfit in the back. He tells us the kid confessed to knocking them over, and it's a mystery solved. Everyone came forth and called bullshit mostly because the agreed-upon profile for our suspect was a tall, probably six, five or so lean guy in red and white.

The Ranger waved it off as some kind of joke and said he had a confession, and he was going to get everything sorted it out by morning. We tried finding the house again the next day and couldn't find it. I was about to just shrug and say fuck it when my friend, who was in the first A-frame to get knocked over, came up to me at dinner on that last night. He was kind of nervous to talk to me, and it hasn't really been himself, and he told me he smelled something really fucking shitty before he woke up that morning.

He looked up and saw the figure staring, staring at him, and he thought it was the weirdest fucking thing. It was a person. It wasn't a spooky skeleton or anything, but the guy was really fucking tall, with lanky ass arms and smelled like straight up death and shit. So much he said he could see the stink lines coming off of him. He said the guy was obviously quite old and gray, but the weirdest thing was that he was wrapped in bandages and a headdress, like a fucking mummy. A mummy in South Florida. I laughed at off and just told him it was some kind of asshole fucking with us. He just sighed and continued to eat his gloop.

The weirdest shit didn't start until we came home from camp. There were ten people who had their tents knocked over, excluding me and my bunkmate, and out of those ten, eight of them had burglars cleaned out their place out while camp. Only me and the kid who thought he saw mummy were spared. His house burned down a month later. The fire department saying someone had thrown incendiary devices

into the windows at night while they were sleeping. Even though there were no broken glass or open windows, I guess the patterns here had to do with houses. Nothing has really happened in my house. I moved a couple months after dropping scouts, and the last I heard my old house was still there. I honestly have no idea what the fuck any of it means, but it's creepy as shit to think about.

No one I know from that troop is still in it. They dropped it around the same time as I did. I heard we all dropped a ton of weight too. None of us were fat anymore. And I've been told I look too skinny now. Did we drop scouts for the same reason? Maybe. I have no idea what to expect from it or this story.

And I know it's shitty as fuck to end a story like that, but the only other creepy thing is that I find ants in my stuff all the time and it's annoying as hell. I like to think it has something to do with this, but in reality it's probably another shitty thing to deal with in my life. I get bit a lot still, though, and I have to cover myself with Band-Aids, so I don't itch them all the time.

These are my stories, but ones that my little brother told me. He's a geosciences grad student at the moment He's been doing field work in Wyoming for about four years now, usually in the summer. He's seen most of the wildlife there is to see up there, shy of cougars who apparently avoid their camps. He's also seen some weird shit that he couldn't explain. I'm fuzzy on technical details since we're that close, and I've never paid much attention to his studies. So most of the fieldwork stuff he told me is where things get a bit confused. I'll try not to go into any of that jargony stuff.

He told me since I'm sure I get it wrong beyond the basics. Anyway, the stories. Story 1, Day Zero. Roughly two weeks undergrad externship program in Wyoming, spans over spring break plus a week. Dave shows up with two classmates from his program. Kelly and Jr. meets the other externs. Total of 20 people in this class session. Going to be doing survey work and checking up on the geothermal activity or some such.

Taking core samples, mapping terrain, and formations, Doppler readings, all that, as students camping tents but there's a trailer to store equipment, a few outbuildings for cooking and showers, and a fence around the compound, also to landrines and semi-permanent shelter with concrete floor and tables. Rustic, but safe enough. Dave and Jr. sharing a really swanky big tent that got ditched at previous internship by an international student, common event apparently, since they can't transport them home easily. Kelly plants her single near theirs in the rough circle of tents. Orientation time. Class divided up in five groups of four and assigned territory and tasked. Dave, Jr. and Kelly all in different groups. First night is

pretty quiet, but cold as balls, and there's a light dusting of fresh snow the next morning. Day one through three. Everybody's up before first light to get ready for field work, groups split up and head off. Each group has a supervisor and are taken to their specific survey area in a truck by said supervisor. First few days of work goes as planned. No surprises. A bit more snowfall during the first half of the week, but no problem. Day four. On the fourth morning, while they're eating breakfast, Kelly asked if the boys came in tapped on her tent the night before.

Dave and Junior say no. They were wiped and went straight to sleep. Kelly says she woke up with someone tapping at her tent just by her head and whispering her name. By the time she got up and unzipped the flap, they were gone. They decide it must have been one of the group members trying to ask her about the previous day's data. or the next day's work. Who knows, she decides to pursue it later when they go out to work.

Day continues again as normal. Nighttime again. Dave and Junior shooting the ship before they're going to sleep. Here's someone tapping their tent at their feet before they go to sleep. Is anybody there? Hello?

From outside the tent. Sounds like Kelly. They turn on the lamp, open up the flap, but nobody's there. Figures she went back to the tent. Light is on inside. Dave goes and asks her what she wanted. No response. No one is inside. Fresh snow again. Footprints leading away from her tent towards

the land trines. Dave assumed she just wanted someone to walk over there with her, since it's dark as fuck other than the motion lamps. He shrugs, heads back to his tent and goes to sleep. Day 5 through 12. Next day. Kelly doesn't join them for breakfast and eats with her survey team instead. Don't get to ask her of what she wanted. Dave feels weird all day. And notice. is that his work team is really jumpy. One of Dave's workmates insists he saw Bear while they were in the field and they decide that's why everyone is on edge. Some kind of premordial instinct can sense the predator lurking or some shit. Night rolls around again and Dave and Jr. are about to sleep when the tapping comes again. It's really dark. I can't see you. Come out. Kelly's voice again. Junior

tells her, just a second, I'll turn on the lamp. They opened the tent. No Kelly. Her tent isn't lit up. Footprints aren't clear because there's been no fresh snow all day. Fuck it. They go and tap on Kelly's tent. Light turns on and she chews them out for waking her up again. Again. Dave apologized and drags Jr. back to their tent. Dave tells Junior about the bear one guy saw it at this mountain. Junior makes jokes about skin walkers on the mountain and they both go to sleep feeling a bit on edge. Day six. Next morning. Everyone in camp seems a bit out of it. People talking about the stupid pranks everyone else is pulling,

and no one is getting enough sleep. Bersider mentions Dave tapping on his tent. Dave mentions Kelly. Two other guys both mentioned someone else entirely. Almost everyone reports some kind of mysterious nighttime visitor that wasn't there. They're starting to get a little bit paranoid, and the supervisors tell them to knock it off with the pranks,

there's work to be done. The pranks continued for the rest of the trip, but no one was hurt, turned up acting weird, or went missing. People were just jittery and ready to get the fuck out of camp by the end of it all. Story number two. Summer internship time. Sweet. Free day, so Dave and Moe, international student on his first time, go hiking. Pack lunch, Dave's gun, and bear mace. Head out into the woods. Beautiful scenery, fantastic views. They go do their thing in Dave is snapping photos to send his girlfriend back home. Suddenly, Dave notice his Mo isn't beside him anymore. They're at the top of a ridge looking into a particularly

picturesque valley, lots of dense trees, not a lot of visibility. Dave doesn't panic, figures Mo had to shit and stepped out of view. Starts calling Mo's name. No answer. Just echoes. Oh, Dave doesn't leave the ridge, but starts looking around for any sign of this guy. Nothing in sight, so he keeps calling this guy's names. Eventually, he hears three blasts from a safety whistle. Oh, Dave starts to backtrack the way they came, figuring that Mo turned around before him and got last slash went off the trail. Another three blasts, this time louder. Dave keeps following the sound, but there's no Mo. By now, Dave thinks something fucked up is going on and gets out the bear mates just in case.

Apparently, he contemplated his handgun, but didn't go for it. He stops and waits to see if he hears any more whistles. Sure enough, three blasts, practically on top of him. Dave almost jumped out of his skin. Mo comes running down the hill out of nowhere and almost slams into him. Dave is pissed, almost bare maces Mo in the face, demands to know where he went. Mo is equally pissed and demands to know why Jave left him standing on the ridge all alone. They confer, and it comes to light that neither of them blew their safety whistle, though they both heard it.

Both thought the other had wandered off the ridge and was calling for help. No more whistle blowing follows. No one else from camp was going hiking. Camp is isolated from normal camping. camping areas or parks. Dave and Moe know the fuck back to camp as fast as they can go, even though they'd plan to be outside for more hours. Same summer internship story as above. Hiking with a different intern, Joey, everything's going good, they're looking for a place to chill out and have some lunch, find a little creek babbling away, only a few feet across and super shallow. Being geology geeks,

they start discussing whether this should be on the survey or not. Outside target zone, but still possibly relevant because of water source, etc. After lunch, they pack up and start to head back the way they came towards camp. Except it's not the way back towards camp. It's almost like they found a loop or some shit. Keep ending up back at the same creep bed. After about an hour of this, they decide to just follow the creek bed for a while to see if maybe they just turned down the wrong paths.

Stop when they find a weird little Karen on an island in the middle of this narrow creek. Geology geeks and rock hounds, so they notice the rocks don't match the area quite right. pile of big chunks of limestone with a huge green quartz at the base, deer skull at the top of the pile with the antlers crossed under it, bleached from exposure looks brittle and old. Dave says they should go back the way they came because fuck that ritualistic-looking horror movie shit. Joey agrees, but it's weirded out mostly by the stones rather than the skull. No proper limestone deposits in the area, apparently,

and that kind of quartz is only in a specific part of the state. I wouldn't know, just repeating what Dave said here. They go back the way they came and finally get back on their trail properly. Dave tells me he thinks whatever built that pile of rocks and wanted them to see it before they left, like it was warning them to stay out of its territory or something. Dave and Joey went hiking in another day with Moe, but couldn't find the creek or the Karen a second time.

Dave was relieved because he just didn't want to go back, but after the first hiking trip, Mo said he was curious. Story 3. Through stupid, circumstances, Dave gets separated from his work crew in the field, middle of fucking nowhere on the mountain, realizes he's lost. Fuck shit, damn it. He's a map and GPS and all the safety gear he should have, but nothing is working quite right. E.G. Compass is stuck and won't rotate to face magnetic north. GPS claims to have no signal.

Phone likewise has no signal and went from 80% charge to 5% in about five minutes. Fuck this shit. Fuck it to hell. Against better judgment, he decides to try and find his way back. Dave tries to backtrack but can't seem to go in a straight line. He finally sits down and considers blasting his whistle to see if he can get attention from his group. Right as he's about to blow that whistle, a fuck-off huge raven drops down from a tree

onto a rock formation a little ways from him. Raven puffs up real big and flies a few trees off with that croaky con noise they make. Dave's impersonation of the sound cannot be described to the text, but it's hilarious. stops and puffs up again watching him. Dave says he doesn't know why, but he decides to follow the Raven. They don't generally come anywhere near people this far out, just garbage if they can get it, so this bird was acting funny. Raven keeps up the leading game, flying a few hours ahead at the time while Dave follows. After about 30 minutes, Dave starts to recognize the terrain. After 45 minutes, he's almost back to the survey site, and the Raven is gone. Didn't fly away, just disappeared when he looked away

for it for a minute to get his bearings. Most of the other stories he told me weren't supernatural at all, just a bit eerie. He and his work crew ran into a bare face to face during summer once, at a distance of maybe 10 yards. It just looked at them for a few minutes and went back to rooting around and doing his thing. They also had a pack of wool show up and check out their perimeter fence another time. Nothing malicious, just curious and probably had smelled food or the like. They didn't come back. He had a couple of other spooky stories that were, were pretty bland. Things like his team encountering a guy in the woods while there were no habitations, and he wasn't carrying gear like a camper or hiker either. He looked a bit like a farmer

who just strolled out of his field into a dense tree line. There was also a guy who got attacked in a lake while everyone was fishing. They decided to take a break, so he went for a swim. Had a huge row of bite marks in his leg, but they couldn't say what it was that did it. Eventually put it down to some kind of introduced garfish and called it good. Nobody went swimming for the rest of that trip, though. Mind if I ask, where in Wyoming? I currently live there and would love some spoopy adventures. I'll shoot him an email to ask since he didn't really see at the time. I went through his Instagram just to see where he took the photos during the periods of the stories are from, and most of his vacation photos from before, and after each period of

internship are in Idaho or the northwest portion of the state. So I'd assume his survey trips were probably relatively close to that area as well. He got back to me and was a bit vague of about Wyoming. He mentioned Cody, but otherwise, was all over the state. He'd also done more trips than I thought. He's up to nine and maybe going again this year. He said he's also done trips to Montana and Idaho for survey stuff and mentioned Elkhorn, Big Hole River, Idaho, and the tobacco root range, Montana. He also sent me a photo of all the tens left behind by students on these trips set up in his yard. He now has a total of nine, plus the one he bought originally for himself years ago. There's been months without any relevant happening, so while we wait, anyone has

any night shift stories to tell? It's a small field, but not many people know how haunted most libraries are. Be me. Worked my way up to library manager. Managed three libraries thus far. Board of supervisors, district manager, etc. Always tell you what's up with your branch shortly after taking the job. Current branch is pretty fucked. Female employees, 90% of the workforce. in the field and my library suffers the most. Angry noises affect one employee, accuses her teammates of pranks, stomping around, doors slamming, men shouting, etc. all in the backroom. Another female employee has been locked inside the bathroom with the lights thrown off, sink turned on when she was in there, heard her cry for help as staff bathroom on other side

of manager's Doa office. Door was locked in, required my master key, the only key that can lock the door from outside. Obviously, I was not responsible and would never do this. this. Public restrooms are a no-go for any female employees. They are open and closed by me and me alone. Stalls will slam in sequence, lights will go on and off, diaper stations spontaneous fall open. Most libraries keep a second incident report log. This is usually very private and quiet. We know these as unexplained phenomenon logs. We are usually county and local governments, so staff safety still needs to be insured. I've had to close the branch one day, County Maintenance Guy and myself fabricated that the power was lost to the facility.

Not true. We flipped the breakers as proof for when my opener arrived. Truth is, it was a mess inside the building. Books were literally everywhere, as if someone had a grudge had broken in. Workstations and service counter, a mess of unloaded staplers, pencils were broken into dozens of pieces, and our copier bulb was burnt out after running all night. Pages photocopied were of the ceiling above the copier. More? More. More. OP just likes to fuck with employees and won't admit it.

Absolutely. More it is then. This last winter, 2020, board of supervisors decide that operational hours needed to be extended. To make up for the doors being closed during the Great Cuffinine, geniuses decide that the branch will be open from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. Yes, that way we can serve the exactly zero people wanting books at night in the snow and cold. No female employees closed during the winter nights anymore. Our hours have changed to 6 p.m. extended hours. This is that reason why. Week 5 of stupid late 9

hours, I'm closing with, let's call her Janet. Janet is a really cool employee. Never says no, a great self-starter, and it's fun to work with. She's had her own encounters. She's the employee who faces the phantom harassment. Approximately around 7.50 p.m., a snowstorm hits the area. I offer her a ride home as to not endanger her elderly mother, as Janet does not drive. Shortly after hearing the winds and snowfall, a cacophony of noise erupts from the lobby, slamming, banging, glass shattering, and a deep booming. Janet and I sees our shatting, and I get up to investigate the cause. At the glass doors of the lobby, nothing is of note.

The front doors are closed, light is on. I enter the lobby. I've taken about four steps from the glass doors to the closed front doors as the glass doors slam behind me. I turn, expecting to see Janet. She's not there. Turning back towards the front doors, the right wall with our public bulletin board begins dropping flyers one by one. The attacks remain in place.

I stare dumbfounded as the bulletin board sheds itself nude. In this lobby, there are two doors to the left that are the entrance to our public meeting room. The meeting room doors slammed on their locks rhythmically, pound pause, pound pause, pound pause. I jolted at this, but stared in shock as the blackness in the room is all that could be seen through the door windows. The light in the lobby started to flicker out of sync with the pounding, and at this point, I'm finished with this. I've heard things and I've seen things, but this is my first truly wholly unexplained experience in this branch.

I make a deliberate walk to the doors leading into the library and walk back inside. Janet's is not at the customer service desk. I was unnerved by the experience from the lobby, but something about the familiarity of the library interior made her not at the desk okay. she was more than likely just shelving. Sure enough, I hear the squeaking of a book truck. After a single use, they all begin to squeak. I step into my office and check my emails once more

and finish a flyer for a children's program we are planning for the holidays. As I type, I hear squeaking of the truck. Then a pause. I'm thinking that, indeed, Jana is shelving in the stack somewhere. After about 10 minutes of my working, and the sound stopping and beginning of the book truck, I decided to go back to the main library,

and see if Janet needs assistance in finishing. The book truck is right in front of my open office door, completely void of any library materials, placed directly in front of the open space, so that I must move it to venture forward. I moved the cart and briskly make a tour through the library. I went through every shelf bay and checked our teen room. I hadn't heard Janet walk by with the book truck,

nor had I hurt her out of the floor. In a panic, I head for the staff break room, a sinking feeling washed over me that potentially the noises in the library were a distraction from some sort of bad guys who've entered the library through other means. The staff break room lights are off. I turn them on. The small room is empty. I check the back door staff entrance.

It's locked. I think of the staff bathroom. I try the handle and it's locked. I knocked. Nothing. I knock harder. Saying Janet's name. Nothing.

I take the master key and unlock the door. Janet is on the floor of the bathroom, crying her eyes out, mascara all over her face. She looks up wide-eyed and grabs me around the waist absolutely delirious, saying my name and how she was trapped. I bent down to comfort her, asking what the fuck happened. I help her up and we sit at the lunch table. She's shaking as I bring her a box of tissues.

When I had gone out to source the noise, she had waited more than 15 minutes for me to return. I stated that this wasn't possible. but she cut me off. She had gotten up to use the bathroom. She did her business, washed her hands, but the towel dispenser didn't work. She tried a few more times, but decided to exit the bathroom and use the towels in the kitchenette. The door wouldn't budge. She tried over and over, but the door was locked. She began pounding the door and yelling my name. Frantic now, she became more and more terrified of her situation. That was when the lights went out on her. She felt around

quickly for the switch, but no matter how many times it went up and down, the lights would not come back on. The sound of footsteps echoed on the tile floors. She said it sounded like three people were in there with her. This is when she began to cry. She was just waiting, just waiting for the moment. Something or someone would shove her, push her, or run into her. She curled up in a corner trying to make herself as small as possible. She covered her head, but after just a moment the footsteps stopped. The sink came to life, gushing water, then it turned off, gushing water then off again. On the third time, it began to just drip, each drop becoming louder than the last, until, as she stated, the sound began to hurt her ears. It was then I arrived. When the lock turned over from my key,

the lights came back on. I profusely apologized to Janet. However, I had been on the opposite side of the wall and heard nothing. I swore if I would have heard her, I would have been there in seconds. Janet's wasn't okay. Of all the instances of these experiences, this had been the worse. She refused to be left alone, and the two of us traveled. traveled around the building and stayed close. I believed her story, but the time issue was nagging at me. Currently, the time was now 8.20. I checked my PC clock at my workstation when I returned from the lobby and floor, but

my time added up. Something about this wasn't was odd and terrifying. With only 40 minutes left of being open, we remained at the service counter watching videos to calm Janet down, though frightened myself at what she told me, I needed to remain calm and in control for her sake. What happened next still gives me the chills. The ceiling of the library is an enormous labyrinth of beams and crossbars. Like a cathedral vaulted ceiling, the beam has begun to creak and moan as if a great weight had been placed upon them. Oh shit, must be the snow I stated. As I finished the last syllable of snow, I was struck on top of the head.

A DVD case had fallen from the beams. I looked up, nothing there. Janet began to be able to shuddering and sobbing. The creaking and moaning becomes louder and slower. I rose from my seat and beckoned her towards me. The DVD and Blu-ray stack started to shed materials from them in ones, twos, and threes. DVD and Blu-rays fall from the shelves. We're done, we're leaving. Quickly we headed for the backroom and grabbed their coats, make it into my vehicle. I started the engine and drove to the entrance. I locked the doors and we left for the night. I recorded the incident and informed the county library manager of what it had transpired. The building was a mess in the morning. In addition to the visual media, the children's pictures books, nonfiction, and half the

adult fiction were completely removed from their shelving. I contacted Janet, asked her how she was doing, she was thinking of quitting. She had never felt so helpless, powerless, and worse of all, afraid. To be honest, I begged her to stay. She's a fantastic employee, and she still works for me. However, female employees do not close or stay after dark. We do not have a lock on the bathrooms now. A sign that says occupied and vacant is on the outside of the door. It needs to be flipped. Obviously, employees must additionally knock.

Closing shifts are for male employees only. For some reason, our unexpected phenomena are limited to slamming doors and flickering lights. I have more stories if Aon's are interested from this library and others. This is where the public restrooms are located, the light flickering upon taking this photo this morning. As previously stated, female employees do not pass this point and either lock or unlock these bathrooms. But enjoy more stories, lad. Very interesting stuff. Attached are the beams and rafters. And so why do you think this is happening? What causes libraries to be spook hotbeds? Why isn't this a well-known investigative phenomenon? I couldn't say. My guess would be potentially

gathering so much information, so many stories in one place, becomes sort of a magnet or beacon for the unexplained. Like I said, maybe not well known to the public, but certainly well known in the field. For instance, no one doubted Janet or my report that went into the logbook. District manager and board of supervisors were very apologetic, as was I. I'll pose again tonight if threat is so live and there is interest. Very much interested in more. Bump. This is top-notch material. It's possible that ghosts are drunk to libraries because they're relatively quiet and being a ghost doesn't seem like a very fun experience. Plus, they're often located in places that are S-word hotspots, high schools, universities, etc. So the ghosts might wander back to the place they last

felt comfortable. Epic. The returning to where they were last comfortable thing makes sense, especially for mentally ill, S-word loner types. Let's think for fun. Libraries are public places. It's not many places that are open to anyone and are on the same time or indoors. The fact that so many different people with different goals and ambitions to use libraries could really be a detrimental factor. Perhaps it's because of all the different sentimental phrases people go through in there. That creates a focal point of energy. Libraries contain lots of info. Maybe the sheer amount of knowledge contained in physical form attracts paranormal energy. Libraries contain lots of art. Every book is an art piece by its writer. It probably carries a lot of sentimental value with it, and that attracts energy.

Or perhaps ghosts, having no other way of having fun, gather in libraries and pass time by reading the books as living readers turn the pages. They also get funky and start playing pranks on the employees at night hours when their boredom can no longer be cured. And all right, guys, that wraps up some terrifying, true 4chan stories. And these ones were, you know, a little bit paranormal and you guys might not like that. You guys have gotten mad at me before saying that I want fully true. Well, these are true stories from people. I would be, I kind of believe in a what's it called paranormal stuff, kind of like skin walkers. You know, I think creepy stuff happens, unexplainable stuff happens. And, you know, in all honesty, a lot of the true stories

are so utterly boring. So I go for a little bit of the out there once. So debate in the comments if you think it's real. Or if it's true or not, I think it's true. I think these are true stories by people, especially when they have proof like the last one here with the pictures and stuff, super creepy. I got goosebumps reading that story. And hopefully, you know, you got some goosebumps too

and you thought it was entertaining. I appreciate watching the end of the video. You guys are the best. Thank you so much for sticking around. Please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It helps more than you'll ever know. And that wraps up today's video. And this was Snook, and I'll see you next time.

Bye.