Snook - Unexplainable 4Chan Threads

Episode Date: December 19, 2025

These were some of the most insane 4Chan Threads I have ever gotten into... and the first one was wild... what do you think happened to the OP and his daughter? Also, would you like to see other long videos like this in the future? Thank you all for watching! You guys are the best! Make sure to follow and rate 5 stars!Make sure to subscribe to the Patreon for early access videos and many more perks! ⁠https://www.patreon.com/SnookYTFollow me on instagram and Spotify!And even though 4chan is anonymous and you can't even ask for permission... IF ANY OF THESE STORIES BELONG TO YOU, PLEASE EMAIL ME AT - [e-mail] before filing a copyright takedown or anything. Please, we can get it sorted out through email or some other form of communication, thank you.Sub goal is 1 million subs! So subscribe! Comment down below what you’d like to see in the future!And yes, I'm a human voice.Channel sub goal is 100,000 followers! And rate 5 stars! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, what's up guys and welcome back to the channel. And today we're getting into some unexplainable 4chan threads. And today's threads and stories are insane, creepy as hell and downright disturbing. Yeah, today's threads I picked out are beyond ridiculous. These are some of the scariest threads and stories I've ever read. And they are so, so interesting and good. So you'll want to stick around. I appreciate you stopping by means the world.

Please like the video and subscribe to the channel. The channel's goal is 1 million subscribers, so please subscribe. It helps more than you know. And yeah, this video will be super, super long. So sit back, relax, grab a drink, grab a snack, and get ready to listen to some wildly scary stories. And without further ado, let's get into some unexplainable 4chan threads. Julia said,

sit in her playpen. Dan could hear her sloshing her juice around in the sippy cup from across the room as she waved and attempted to say hello. Hi baby girl, he said. Lounging in the recliner next to the fireplace and looking intently at his laptop, he gave a half-hearted wave back, still reading the news. As he switched between his multiple open windows from a comic to stock listings to a news site, his otter tossed the juice cup over the edge. He heard it hit the ground, glanced up quickly, but decided to deal with the cup later. Then he heard the rattling as she pearsed.

picked up one of her toys. E-oh, she said again. Her wave communicated to her father by way of rattling. Hi again, beautiful, he said. Offering a half-hearted wave back in the general direction of the playpen. He couldn't remember being this tired since, Julie had been born. Despite the loss of sleep, the general frantic energy, his adorable ball of joy seemed to possess was contagious.

With Lisa gone for the weekend, though, the girl was taking her toll on the young father. He'd spent that morning trying to teach her to play catch, her still developing arms reacting on a significant time delay from reality. Then they'd gone to the park for a picnic, after an hour and a half of preparation, only to have to rush back home when it started raining. Some ridiculous series of videos featuring badly computer animated insects dancing to Mozart had dominating her afternoon, and by extension his. Anytime he wasn't shaking his booty to Wolfgang's fat beats,

Julia would start crying. She'd gone down for an hour-long nap after 4 p.m. But that seemed to supply her with more than enough energy to try talking for the next four hours. Now, at 9 p.m., Julia was up later than some teenagers. If Lisa were home, Dan knew the girl would already be sleeping soundly in her crib. But Dan took the electric razor approach to bedtime. once in a while that the batteries run out completely. The only catch was his batteries were running out too.

He hoped hers went first. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought about calling Lisa. As the home's main breadwinner, she had her district meeting a couple times a year. But he knew that the events tended to be half vacation. He didn't want to bother her. He jerked his head back up. No, he was not going to pass out before his toddler. Maybe Julia could recharge his batteries a bit, though.

Slamming his legs down to shut the recliner and jumping to his feet, he turned on his play voice. Hey there, girl, want to try? E-oh, she cried, standing against the side of her playpen and gleefully waving her rattling, psychedelic-colored stuffed butterfly. He shut up and stared at her. His dumb, happy dad look frozen on his face. She wasn't looking at him. and she wasn't waving at him.

She was facing the hallway to his right on her end of the room. That led to the bedroom, nursery, and bath. Um, hey there, he said. Over here, hi, baby girl. She looked at him for just a moment, smiling the smile of someone who was already happy before he showed up. Then she turned her attention back down the hallway. A-oh, she squealed, waving again.

He frowned, glancing at the hall from where he stood, even though he couldn't see down it. Then, looking back at the rapt joy on the toddler's face, he stepped closer. Julie's attention down the hall seemed to fade as he got closer, and she plopped on her bottom and picked up a doll as he stood in front of the playpen and stared down the unlit but obviously empty, hallway. As a childproofing measure, they always shut the three doors in the hallway, the nursery on the left, the bedroom on the right, in the bathroom at the end. They all looked to be quite closed, but Dan, who had always valued paranoia over false security, strode back to the mantle and grabbed the fire poker from its stand, then returned to the hallway. Holding the poker in his right hand like a trunch on more than a baseball bat.

He didn't bother with stealth as he approached the nursery. He flung the door open, flipped on the light, and did a quick sweep of the room, behind the door and in the closet. Leaving that door open, he went for the bathroom next. With slightly more hesitation, he opened that door and flipped on the light. The bathroom was small, efficient, Lisa said. And the only possible hiding place was behind the shower curtain.

Remembering a horror movie cliche, so universal it was almost part of the human brainstem, he slowly stepped to the bath, held the poker with both hands, and hooked it around one side of the curtain. He forced it open. Nothing. He rolled his eyes as he stepped back out of the bathroom, leaving the door open and light on. Now just one room left. Now that he was this close, he realized he had been wrong.

His bedroom door was definitely ajar, if only by a touch, just enough that it didn't latch. He didn't imagine he would have done this. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then he opened them and lightly kicked the door open. His left hand gripped the poker while his right scrambled for the light switch. Finding it, he bathed the door. room in inundicent safety. There was nothing apparently out of place in the room, but he gaped at the opposite wall.

The window was wide open. There was a moment of blind, frenzied spiders crawling through the brain terror, and he held the poker up and spun around the room quickly. Sure, he'd missed something horrifying. Then, as he saw the damp floor and realized it hadn't been raining for. hours, he remembered. He'd opened all the windows earlier to save on AC. When they came back from their picnic, he'd shut them all due to the rain, except this one. Julia had started crying for her movie just as he'd reached the hall. And before he'd gotten to his bedroom, he was out there

turning on the classical music-loving bugs and dancing with them. He quickly stepped on to the soggy carpet, went to the window, and shut it for all the good it did now. He needed to needed to get some rags and towels. Leaving the third door open, he started back down the hallway. Eyes locked on Julia playing in her pen. The next thing he knew, he was walking much more quickly down the hallway to Julia. Baby girl, what is that? he asked. Unable to maintain a play voice this time.

Julia was grinning. Eyes wet and shining, clutching to her chest a teddy bear. She didn't seem to be bothered by the bear's missing button eye. or the split leg seam, or its dampness, or the smell of years of mildew, mold and rot. Dan thought his face was going to fall off and hit the floor. He barely mouthed a swear word. Then out of some programmed parent response didn't finish it.

Come on, baby girl, we're getting out of here, he said. Scooping her up and being enveloped in the bear's stench, he wanted her to let go of it but didn't have any intention of sparing the time to fight with her. He held her one arm and fished in his pockets for his keys. They weren't there. His already fiery panic almost consumed him before he remembered he left him on the bench by the front door.

He made it to the door in three long strides, grabbing the keys and forcing his feet into some already tied shoes, not bothering to pull the backs out from under his heels. He threw up in the door and slammed it behind him. He didn't even consider pausing momentarily, to lock it behind him. As he approached his car, almost running now, he hit the keyless entry button and heard the reassuring clunk.

His head hit the roof as he slid into the driver's seat. Julia still over his shoulder. Screw the car seat, just this once, he thought. Keys were slammed into the ignition, car whipped into the road in reverse, all thought to seatbelts or possible destinations driven from his mind by the singular, overwhelming need to get as far from his house as possible. A block down the road, he exhaled for what seemed like the first time in ages. And he realized Julia was breathing steadily.

Her cheek rested on his shoulder, arm pressed against his, the hand still clutching her new toy. Despite everything, he laughed. One shrill, almost bark-like release of adrenaline. Her breathing changed. immediately, of course, as she woke back up. He felt her shift her head, propping her chin up, her view now over his shoulder. A moment later, he felt her arm lift from his. In his peripheral vision, he could see the foul bear swinging wildly as Julia waved into the back seat.

E-oh, she said. Hello, X. This is a story about my aunt. Growing up, I knew very little about my mother's side of the family. They had basically disowned her after she decided to do the unthinkable and go to medical school at a time. Particularly in the deep rural south, women would never be doctors. My relatives were scowling faces that wandered in and out of holiday gatherings, pausing just long. long enough to pass judgment and leave my dad outrage for about a week. The only one out of the

mob that really made an impression was my mom's older sister. This woman sent me acne medication for my birthday one year when I had started that awkward breakout phase. She once lectured me for 20 minutes about how since I had inherited mom's desire to work when I got older, no man would ever love me. I was 10. I only give you this background so that I was, you'll understand how unsettling it was when my grandmother called my mom one evening and asked her to fly down there to see them. My aunt had experienced what they called a severe psychotic break or something along those lines, and none of the relatives knew what to do or had the money to do it. My mother dutifully packed her things and I was somehow swept along for the ride. I was only 14 at the time

and still hadn't perfected the art of saying no to my parents. The best thing about that age was that because I was awkward and mousy, people tended to ignore my existence. I got to sit in while my grandparents told my mom everything they knew about this breakdown, and mom stressed over and over that she wasn't a psychiatrist. My aunt's latest ex was a crystal dealer, who knew what kind of stuff they had been brewing and sampling. Also, there were probably diet pills. She'd become obsessed with a Ouija board. Depression runs in the family.

And she was always a little off, etc., etc., etc. All they knew was that after her work had called them asking for her, they had found her completely naked in her living room, curled up and talking to herself. She had covered pages and pages of notebooks with nonsensical symbols and equations about God and demons. I think I should pause here for a moment. I understand if you think I'm setting this up as some wild demonic possession story. I'm not. I am a skeptic and I have no idea if the events following this had anything to do with the paranormal. Crystal substance use psychosis is scary enough

on its own and there were so many holes in her brain at this point who knows what she was really thinking. However, the story is a little gruesome either way, and I'm finally at a place where I feel like I can tell it. Anyway, so with a few other options in BFE, Georgia, my grandparents had locked my aunt up in the guest room and called my mother. Once again, insisting that she was not a psychiatrist, my mom told my grandparents that they had to get my aunt sent to some kind of hospital, where she could get the proper care, and in the meantime, they needed these supplies to hold them over while they decided what to do. Mom called in some prescriptions and got ready to head into town. Unfortunately, the downside to being 14 is you're old enough to be expendable and

somehow in the shuffle. I was assigned the task of waiting at the house with my aunt and making sure nothing happened while they were gone. Mom promised they wouldn't be long and assured me waiting at home was better than being trapped on the hour drive into town with my grandmother. Many Southerners will tell you that not all of the South is barren fields and terrifying locals. Some places and parts have some amazing natural beauty. This is completely true. And anyone close-minded enough to bypass an entire section of the country based on stereotyping and is really missing out. Unfortunately, this house was not located in any of those areas.

This was miles of red clay, tobacco crops, pine trees, parallel. lines, the family house, me and my bat-shit aunt in the back room. There was no cable, no internet, and next to no cell reception. I was stuck listening to my CD player and playing Tetris on the couch, counting the agonizing minutes until my mom came back, because time moved so slowly out there. I can't really tell you when I was clubbed from behind. The thud was dull, But the pain exploded in the back of my skull. I used to think that cartoon characters, seeing stars, was just cutesy animation. But I swear my vision erupted into different colors as I tried to regain my senses.

I didn't drop like people in the movies do, though. I was vaguely aware of someone grabbing my arms and dragging me from the sofa to a chair. I even stumbled a little in response. Unfortunately, the static wouldn't clear enough for me to stop them as my hands were tied to the arms with something thin enough to cut. It was only after my midsection had been bound and my throat was well on its way that I snapped to. I rocked my head back and forth to get away, but it was no good. What I now realized was brown twine was roped around my neck to keep me upright. I can't look at this stuff anymore without itching. Her work

momentarily finished. My aunt moved around the chair to face me. She'd never been an attractive woman. But at that point, she looked like topless, holy hell. The crystal had left her with open sores, some of which she had scratched into ragged, weeping holes. Her arms were covered in blackening holes all oozing rot. When she grinned, I got a good look at the infamous crystal mouth. I can't even describe the smell.

That wasn't just from her wounds either. She had caked shit all over her legs, up to these scratches around her sagging breasts. But the worst part was the strange glint in her eyes. There was someone home up there, but it was more feral than person. When my eyes locked on hers, she grabbed a bit of her short blonde hair and tugged hard enough for her eyebrows to raise. You see this? They say, I can take your hair for myself. Panic was finally starting to register.

as I realized just what the hell was happening to me. Too tiny to be much of a fighter, I mostly just started hyperventilating and staring. I remember realizing that I couldn't remember the word for what Indians used to do to their war victims, but it was definitely about to happen to me. I started squeaking a little and trying to yell out as she disappeared into the kitchen for a moment

and reappeared with a knife. Thankfully, she just grabbed a clump of my long, brown hair and started trying to saw it off inches of my scalp. It's still heard enough for me to finally cry out over it. Likely unsatisfied with her results, thanks to a dull knife and thick hair, her attention turned back to my face. That's nothing, she hissed. From behind my back, she produced a hammer, probably what she had hit me with in the first place. The next swing brought it down on my life index finger. The fingernail cracked beneath the strength of the blow. My sobbing only made my aunt laugh harder, and she tossed aside her tangles of hacked off hair

in favor of digging out the nail pieces and ripping them away one by one. The pain was so bad I nearly threw up. This process repeated for the middle finger in my thumb, though for some reason the thumb took three swings to crack, thanks to the odd angle it was at. I vaguely noticed through the pain that as she yanked the left bit of nail from the bed, her head as tilted slightly, and her mouth was hanging open. She was listening to something. She finally stopped picking at my fingernails and leaned over to take my index into her mouth to suck on. Her mind started desperately pulling itself together.

I had to get out of there. There was no way out. Not matter how much I screamed, no one was around. for miles. I had to survive long enough for my mother to get home. What if this lunatic killed my mother? Somehow I choked out some version of, why are you doing this? My aunt looked up from where she was sucking and narrowed her eyes, as if indignant that I had interrupted her. She sat up and proceeded to spit some of the blood she'd been drinking into my face. They chose you and I hate you. At this point, she started ranting. I wish I could reproduce exactly what she said, but the details are blurred

half because this memory was so diligently repressed for so long and half because none of it made sense at all. It was something about a dark lord and people in the walls, but there was also talk of the government and radio waves. What I do recall is that she paused and leaned in so close that our noses were nearly touching. The smell of her breath was so horrible I could taste it in my mouth. I know, she whispered. You can smell my brain rotten, but let me tell you. He's not, Joe. He wants her skin. They all want your skin. Her tongue stretched out her mouth and warmed itself over the lower half of my face. I started sobbing and gagging at this point. She tried to get her tongue into in my mouth, but I spat at her, which enraged her. She screamed at me to be quiet and swung the hammer

at me. One of my front teeth at the floor and the others weren't in much better shape. My memory was now fuzzy, mostly a blur of pain and fear. I was completely sure I was going to die in agonizing death and the blood loss now occurring didn't do anything for my thinking. I was aware of her shuffling away. I know she returned. My next clear memory is of her using a marker on the old wood floor to reproduce what I recognized as a Ouija board. Only half of the letters were actually letters. The rest were twisted symbols that must have made sense in her addled mind. But the standard hello and goodbye were obvious enough for the connection to be made in my head.

My aunt took great care in creating this, focusing like a preschooler with some sort of demonic macaroni craft. The whole time she muttered to herself, but I never caught a clear sentence out of it. Using a glass coaster as a polonchet, she set to work summoning something. By this point, I was silent, saved the sucking of air and through my new gap in my mouth. The room had gone completely still. Nothing happened for several moments. The atmosphere was suffocating as every nerve in my body stood on edge. without warning, the coaster slid to its first destination, making a screech as the wood scraped over the glass.

I couldn't keep track of what it was spelling out, and the nonsense symbols made it all the more difficult. But my aunt watched closely and nodded sagely every so often. I tried to figure out if it was just my imagination that made it look like the coaster was moving without prodding from her fingertips. The dying afternoon had lowered the temperature considerably, even in the southern early autumn, and shock was beginning to make me tremble. Each shake shot bolts of pain from my fingers, teeth, and head, but I couldn't take my eyes off the scene before me. I remember thinking to myself, maybe they'll tell her to let me go.

A loud crash from the kitchen made me jump, crunching bits of my tooth between my molars in the process and caused my aunt to pause. She raced into the other room, yelled out something with Gidley, and returned to stock towards me with a feverish delight. That was their sign. This is it. He will be so happy. She grabbed my body and twisted it sharply. You want this, don't you? This. This. She scrambled to pick up the knife once more and eyed the pale flesh on my thigh. I've been wearing shorts, humming random notes. She began to carve these same symbols into me. At one point, she carefully sliced up and peeled back. back a circle. This she placed on her nose and grinned at me.

Boo, she giggled. You just love that when you're little. I firmly believe that shock and blood loss as well as the concussion I no doubt had were the cause of what I began to see next. While she carved into me, I stared at the far corner of the room. I was convinced I saw a shadow gathering there. In reality, it was probably just the setting sun chasing away light, but I was so certain that the darkness was taking shape. I've never experienced sleep paralysis, but the feeling I had was almost exactly the same. Something was watching us.

Something evil. It wanted to revel in my pain. The sheer madness of the entire situation convinced me that this was the one my aunt had been babbling about. If there was in fact a creature that wanted my flesh, it was definitely descending upon us. I screamed my throat ragged. I continued to try to get her off,

but the wiggling only dug her knife deeper. If you stay still, I'll be very careful, she sang. My eyes locked on the shadow, and I began to plead. I begged her to let me go. I begged her to remember that I was her niece. I promised her, I'd let her run free. I said I'd never tell my mom what she had done. I told her I'd let her have anything she wanted

if she would just please stop. In response, she put her finger to her lips and shushed me. Do you hear that? She froze and I held my breath. I strained my ears. Honestly, there could have been nothing but the blood rushing in my head. But my poor brain translated this into faint whispers.

My aunt grinned at me. They come, they want you and he will take it. Yes, yes, he will. Yes, he will take what he wants. She said this with a sort of reverence that chilled me. She used her legs to force mine apart and pointed the tip of the knife at my crotch. I'll slice you wide enough for them to crawl inside. I'll stuff them inside you, all inside.

She giggled, though her eyes suddenly became pained. She moved her face in close and clawed at one of these sores on her cheeks. I can feel them crawling out of me, she moaned. She held up one of her arms and shoved the abscess into my sight. Can you see them? Can you? You aren't even looking. In her raids, she shoved the abscess into my face, smearing puss into my eyes. It was vile enough to wake me up and renew my struggling to break free. Why was it so cold? Why did I hear those whispers? My aunt was wailing and clawing at her arm, momentarily taken by the need to dig out whatever was killing her. I desperately railed against the bonds enough to make the chair jump. Seeking this momentum, I rocked from side to side enough to to tip over to my right. Unfortunately, my neck had been tied to something else behind me. I was stuck trying to position my legs to keep the chair from sliding further and strangling me.

This broke my aunt out of her laps and attention. With a snarl, she kicked at my leg, and the jerk left me gasping for air. My vision was beginning to blur. My gaze moved past my aunt and onto the shadow now. In the darkness, it had begun to spread out of the corner like an ink drop. There were faces. I was sure of it. There were faces in the thing that was coming to claim me.

I was mesmerized as my eyes tried to focus on the shifting form. I forced my burning, bleeding leg to keep me propped, but the darkness was becoming deeper and moved closer. It would take me. It would seep out of my soul through all the cuts and bruises in my body. This sounds slightly profound now, but at the same time, all these thoughts were occurring instantly together as I gave way to pure panic. My heartbeat pounded a thundering cadence in my ears as they

seeped towards me. I didn't even hear my aunt slip away before the scream hit my ears and the lights flooded the room. Again at this point, my memory doles. My mother rushed in and found me in that state. She raced me to the hospital with my grandparents while calling the police. While I was recovering overnight the small force of local cops searched the fields and forests for my aunt. Bullittans were put out. A deputy even went door to door down the single road by the house and warned the neighbors to stay inside and lock their doors. What I found more disturbing was the fact that my aunt had been tied down to the bed and locked in that room. The officer said that the ties looked like they had been chewed and then ripped off, but the door wasn't

forced open. My grandparents, even my mother swore that had been locked before they left. They had double-checked it. No one let her out. They did end up finding my aunt. She had aged herself with twine in a barn not far from her land. Though the nails didn't grow on my left index and middle finger and thumb, thousands of dollars were able to correct my smile and my legs healed surprisingly well. Not to be overly spooky or dramatic. but I can't lie to you. I do still have nightmares. In them, I wake up tied down somewhere with my aunt whispering over me.

The markings on my legs sting like they were fresh. She looks exactly like she did that day, down to my blood on her lips. The only thing is, she's just one of the faces in that monster. Instacart knows that some people go bananas about getting the perfect, well, banana. Some want them green, some want them ripe,

some want them ready right when they hit their doorstep. But with Instacart's preference picker, available at most retailers, you can choose to get your groceries just the way you like. That means perfectly ripe bananas, deli meat sliced just the way you want, and avocados that aren't still hard as a puck in the third period. So don't cross your fingers and hope for the best.

Download the app and get groceries just how you like with Instacart. I've had a fucked up family history. It involves evil spirits, monsters, aliens, and serial killers. We'll post more, if interested. Pick related. And I cannot show the picture. It is pretty graphic, so I'm just not going to show it, even blurt out. It's pretty bad.

I don't know what it is, but let's go on. Someone even comments saying, go on. The OP then says, I'll start with the picture. This is the crime scene after Ted Bundy visited my cousin in college. Well, that explains the picture, but yeah, it's a crime scene, so I guess this is the picture of the crime scene after he got murdered. Pretty self-explanatory. Anyways, the OP then says, it happened a long time ago. Obviously, I didn't know her, but it was a huge thing for my dad's out of the family. After Margaret's murder, my family got splintered and started hating each other. My great aunts and uncles all shamed my grandfather because he married a woman from Central America after his medical discharge from the military.

Well, shortly after that, my dad and aunt were born to a racist southern family at that. Being half Costa Rican, they were outcast and shunned. Fast forward five years. My grandpa started in a walk towards death's door, and my grandma on her way to visit him in Jacksonville's VA hospital, gets teaboned by a semi, and her brain is scattered along the road. She's in a coma for three months, loses her memory, forgets her English and French, language and has never been quite right since. 20 years before this, my not yet mother's side of the family. My mom's dad's family lived in the woods of Central Florida all their lives.

My great grandpa, henceforth referred to as Pa Joe, lived in the woods this whole life and was a tracker. After living in the woods and hunting for such a long time, he was offered a position as a game warden. Local government said they'd rather have him working for them than against him. go figure for 40 years. He knew the fucking woods. But as time went on, something strange started to happen on the weekly hunting trips.

The dogs my family hunted with started acting funny. Not right. There was an old mill that paralleled the path they blazed and started down. And one night, the dogs just lost it. They started growling, barking, and bane treed. They knew they had a hot trail. They'd run my pa Joe and. my uncle and grandpa, maybe two to three miles into the woods and they'd come to the edge of the

swamp. There was the tree. It's legendary in my family. It was a thick oak tree that was dead and hollowed on the inside. There were no leaves in the branches, just long-reaching limbs. After treying whatever animal they tracked, the dogs would whimper and cower and start pissing all over themselves and whatnot. The men all looked up into the limbs and couldn't see anything. flashlights for the smart ass's reading. They'd look and look and finally give up. Odd thing was, it kept happening. Night after night, the dogs would take them to the exact same spot,

like they were ready to tear flesh from bone. And then after a few minutes of bane, they'd start crying and wanting to leave. And then it happened. My grandpa says it sounded like a woman's death kneel, screaming, ripping into the night. but for some reason there was a lower scream at the same time, like it was coming from the same thing. You'll recall that Pajos spent his entire life in those woods. My grandpa said he'd never seen his daddy so scared.

Well, time to go, is all he said, and then ran. Ran back from the tree for another two miles, in the dark, and these young boys couldn't keep up with them. Years later, Pajou, on his deathbed, told my grandpa and his brothers about that night and told them the noise they heard was what was called a wampas cat. He explained it was similar to a werewolf or Sasquatch and was a murderous beast. About 30 years after his death, maybe 15 years ago for me, my aunt and my cousin, grandpa's daughter and grandson, were living in an area of southern Georgia called Reno.

It's a small, unincorporated shit of land about an hour north of Tallahassee. Florida. One night, as my aunt is doing the dishes, she sees this bright pair of red eyes shining off in the distance. It shakes her, but she dismisses it as a deer or something like that. Then she hears it. She described a horrific sound like a woman's blood-curdling scream with a deep howl at the same time. She and my cousin were horrified and barricaded themselves in the bathroom with a 30-30 the entire night. The next morning she left a note on the landlord's door with $427 in cash as her final rent and moved in with my grandparents for a while. Fast forward another few years. It's 2001 and my mom and sister is at work. It's a Friday, so it's

slow. She was a computer tech for Tallahassee schools and me, my cousin and uncle were all hanging out, getting into paranormal stuff, and we're listening to audio clips from people who'd recorded a strange noise from the Appalachian region in Georgia. My mom played one that was really freaky. Woman screamed with howl. My cousin, who was in the room across the hall, came in, flushed white, eyes wide open, and told us that's what he'd heard when he lived in Reno. Going back in time, this time when my grandma on my mother's side was a girl. My grandma had three sisters, of which she is the middle child. She grew up in the city of

Atapugus. As with most families in the south in the 1950s, they attended morning and evening church services every Sunday. One afternoon, granny, my grand aunts, and a friend of theirs decided they were going to leave early for church so they could stop by the elementary school

and play on the playground. As they were walking, there was a large cornfield to the left of the road. And for whatever reason, be it chance or what the fuck sake, my grandma looked over in the field and saw a huge beast. It was about seven feet tall, she would say. Had these long, hairy arms and smelled like rotten eggs. They all froze at first, paralyzed by fear, but then started sprinting towards the church, maybe half a mile up the road.

Once they'd gotten there, they locked themselves in the sanctuary and cried. After the older folks started pouring in, they ran and tried to explain everything. After the girls were calmed down, a mini-manhunt was started in search for the beast that they saw. All of the men, my uncle Lemaar, grandma's brother, and daddy included all scoured the cornfield for any trace of a large monster. Eventually they found a large clearing in the corn that was violently thrashed and it smelled of rotten eggs. My uncle Lemaar found a large footprint that looked like a person's only twice his size. After that, it was referred to as the Georgia corn monster for about 15 years. until the famous Patterson film was released,

and everyone started calling it Bigfoot. And my grandma told us, yeah, that looks like what I saw. And it's been a famous story in my family ever since. Now, after they moved, the neighbors, Linda and her husband, I forgot its name, invited my grandparents over to get to know everyone and told them they were going to walk the table.

They said it was going to be a good time, and they should really come over, so they did. After dinner and usual shit in Bree shooting, and they decided it was time to walk the table, and one of the neighbors came out with a small end table. They asked everyone to sit around it and put their hands on it. And also, even though you probably get it by now, this is just a compilation of this guy's stories,

which is pretty interesting to me. It's different than usual, but hopefully enjoy. Anyways, this continue. Quick FYI on walking the table in case anyone wants to try. I myself never have just been afraid of what I was told. It's similar to a Ouija board. Number one, the table has to be totally made of wood. No metal, plastic, or anything, nails included.

Number two, the lights have to be totally off. Three, it will not work if there is a child or a Bible in the room. Number four, it may take more than a drunk. Hey, let's do this thing I heard about effort. Everyone around the table began asking yes or no questions to the table. and it would bump once for yes and twice for no. As with any normal person, it interested Granny and Poppy, who were almost certain everyone was playing a joke on the new neighbors.

Poppy thought really hard, then decided he and Granny would give it a try. As in an initial test, Poppy asked the table to make itself so heavy that no one could lift it. And it bumped for yes, something like that. And then proceeded to try and pick it up, and it wouldn't buzz. Pappy, thinking it was some parlor trick, told everyone to move from around it and then tried to push it. Nothing. Other men tried moving it and it stayed in place. Then after the pushing slash lifting bit, Poppy and Granny sat back down and started again.

Someone asked the table would lay itself in Granny's lap, which it did. And then Poppy, with his certain foolproof plan, asked the table. There was a young man I was in the service with who passed away a few years ago from malaria. What was his name? And they went through the alphabet and the table spelled out this man's first, middle, and last name. Poppy, now shocked, decided it was time to go. Because as the new neighbors, there was no way anyone could have known that answer. Linda asked Granny and Poppy a few weeks later if they wanted to come walk the table again, to which they declined. After living in the town for a while, they learned that the family that lived in the house behind them were witches,

witches that were assumed to be possessed by Satan himself because of the horrible things they could do. As with the walking the table bit, the man who was supposed to be the most evil man in town could walk anything he willed. They told me he could lay his hand on anything. and he would start shaking and jumping violently. The example they gave was a washing machine on his porch. Later on, after they'd moved back to Tallahassee, good old Linda moved as well. She invited Granny, Poppy, Aunt Brenda, and others to all play with a Ouija board, as before they agreed, thinking it was just a board game.

Well, they began to ask it questions, and it refused to answer them. Instead telling Linda how in a past life, she'd, died giving birth to her second child. She had her tubes tied after that. And after that, all the board would spell out was, Charlie is a good boy. A little history on Linda. Remember the town I mentioned earlier? Casadega? It's where she's from. And it's also supposed to be Florida's most evil city. Witchcraft and satanic rituals are practiced more than Christian prayers. Sort of like a modern young Goodman Brown. Now, Linda was a confirmed witch. And many years ago, she moved to Germany, where she met a man and fell in love with him. She told him that he was Satan.

And that freaked him out. She left him and returned to the States. One Thanksgiving, my aunt Lucy said that there was an evil spirit behind Linda's right shoulder and was following her everywhere. It just so happened that one night, Aunt Linda started having something strange happened to her. Whenever she would lay down in bed, the rocking chair in her room would start to rock violently, and when she'd stand up, it would stop. I can only assume that after remembering her past and what Aunt Lucy had said, she asked her to come over and see what was going on. What she told her, chilled her. Aunt Lucy looked at her and said, Linda, you need to burn this chair and leave this place. the devil himself is in this chair and is looking right at you well obviously linda flipped her shit

and burned the chair and left that house and never practiced witchcraft ever again and to this day we don't talk about supernatural stuff around her my mom kind of went off on my fiancee at thanksgiving last year because she asked aunt lucy about a different incident and linda was at the house man this family has been through some shit and got a lot of good stories but anyways the OP continues saying, The Blue Lady. This is a story that started about 23 years ago. My aunt Dorothy,

the eldest of Granny's sisters, worked for a lady who ran a daycare out of her home. She said she was a very peculiar person who had strange ways of taking care of children. The weirdest of all is that this lady would not let crying babies be picked up or calmed in any way. Well, this lady was leaving her house to go to a town one day, and pulled down in front of a log truck and was killed instantly.

Jesus. A few months later, Aunt Dorothy told my Aunt Brenda about the lady's house that had died being for sale. And she and my uncle George purchased it. Bad idea. Maybe a year or two after my mom and her cousin Chris, Aunt Brenda's gay son, were spending the night at her house.

In the spare bedroom, there was a set of bunk beds and Chris was on the top bed. early in the morning, say two-ish, my mom woke up because Chris wouldn't shut the fuck up. She got out of bed and looked up at him. He was sitting bolt upright, eyes wide open, unblinking, and was giving an exact play-by-play of how his uncle was murdered by his wife. He was telling this to someone in the hallway my mom couldn't see. and he was going over every grisly detail about how he would come home drunk and beat her, break her arm,

and finally she was waiting with a shotgun. And he came home belligerent and she blew his face off. Please note, he was not at the house when that happened and was also three years old. Dude, this is insane. A few years later, my aunt Jenna, same aunt from Reno, mom's sisters, granny's oldest, and Chris were playing in an old camper

at Aunt Brenda's house. For whatever reason, it got really hot inside. So Aunt Jenna stepped out. When she did, she saw a shadow, maybe six feet tall, had a tail and horns, and she ran inside, leaving Chris by himself. Note, to this day, Chris does not remember this incident with him talking to the Blue Lady. That night, another visit from the Blue Lady. But this time, Aunt Jenna saw her and said she was a glist.

marrying at her. And as it is with all things, people go out older and tend to forget about things. There was a period of maybe 15 years went by without any significant occurrence. Good things can't always last. So it is now 1996. All of the kids have grown up, people have passed on, Uncle Mike, not the one who lives with me, bought a trailer to live in on his mom's plot of land for his new family to live in, almost immediately. Shit happens. Every day when him and his wife come home from work, all of the pictures on the walls are turned back, facing the walls. It gets more aggressive. One night, my parents and Uncle Mike and his wife and Aunt Jenna are all in the living room in a fucking lead crystal ashtray lifts into the air and then shatters.

Door slam, footfalls in the hallway, shit's getting scary. Then Thanksgiving rolls around. Everyone is full of family time excitement, food, fellowship, etc. But as always, the paranormal always finds its way into the conversations, except when Linda is present. Uncle Mike began talking to Aunt Lucy about all of the weird shit that's been going on. She tells him to not worry about it. And it all be okay. Later, all of the women are in Aunt Brenda's bedroom continuing to talk of haunts and haints.

and Aunt Brenda's door slammed shut. Aunt Lucy, who's only like 5 foot 1, stands up and tells the blue lady, you are dead. This is not your house anymore and you need to leave it once and the door opened. It was maybe two years later

before anything else happened. Uncle Mike comes home from work 1998. He sees Aunt Brenda in her nightgown walk back to her bedroom and he's calling after her. She doesn't respond. He follows her. her all the way to the bathroom, and it shuts in his face. He knocks on the door, no reply.

He walks back into the hallway and sees Aunt Brenda washing dishes. He's kind of confused and asks her, Mom, who all is here? She says, no one, just me and the kids, my cousins, Michael, and Sabrina. Uncle Mike looks back towards her bedroom and says, well, she's back, but now she's wearing white. So here we are. Everyone now caught up. I've got a few directions to go with this. Tell me what you'd like to hear. New blue slash white lady stories, ghost hunting stuff, recent taunts, alien stuff, Wampas cat update, O.P.'s Bigfoot story. Man, this guy's got a hell of a lot of stories with his family. And then someone comments saying the alien stuff. And the O.P. responds to this saying, well, probably the most amusing thing is Poppy's story.

him and my grandma were walking on the beach near Daytona, Florida. And he says, I looked up and there were just three moons. Wasn't anything weird. They were just kind of there. And then he says they all just took off into the sky like they were never there. A few years ago, I was driving from my hometown back to college with my friend and girlfriend who was reading a book at nighttime in the car. So me and my friend were in the car just cunned up bullshit when all of a sudden a plane falls out of the sky. I freak out and slam on the brakes and get out, looking to the area where the plane should have crashed.

Instead, my friend and I see some kind of strangely shaped light hovering for a moment. After a few seconds, it got brighter, then vanished. I then realized I did not see a plane. Those were the UFO parts of the story. A few weeks ago, my uncle and I were visiting my grandparents and were outside talking while he was smoking. Funny enough, we were talking about all the weird shit that our family has gone through in the past. We laugh and head back inside, and then he goes out the front door. We were on the back porch before then to get a bottle of water from the spare fridge in the carport. If I'm not back in 15

minutes, I'm dead. Loll, okay, sure. After a few minutes pass by, I'm assuming he's going to try to scare everyone in the house, a common pastime in my family. I have no idea why. So I go out the front door to find them. As I'm walking to the fridge, there's a bright blue light coming from behind the house. Brighter than a flashlight, but not as strong as a floodlight. And then I hear this sound like a Christmas tree being drugged through the yard. They live in a wooden area, so there's lots of leaves on the ground. I just kind of brush it off. I'm sure my uncle is trying to freak me out, but man, he is really good at light and sound effects, so I go inside and tell my grandma, he's outside messing around. He then walks in from the back porch and is like,

did you hear that shit? I walk back out onto the porch with him and just kind of stare at him, 99% sure that he was just fucking with me. I asked him what he heard, and he told me it sounded like something being drug around the side of the house. Then physics clicked as well as common sense. If it were him, there's no way. he would have the time to, A, light a cigarette, be halfway done with it, and me not have smelled it. B, he came in the door on the opposite side of the house. There is a good half acre from where I would have heard the noise in the back porch and not heard him. And C, he was not winded at all.

And as I said, he smokes a lot. I told him I saw the light behind the house and heard a large dragon sound as well. He asked about the light, and I described it to him, just like above. He looks at me with a kind of disbelieving face and says, he's giving me the quote as I type. I saw a little-ass blue light over by Poppy's truck. I thought you were over there with a cell phone talking to someone. He says it was faint blue, like an illuminated phone screen. Then it just disappeared.

I thought you were walking around the yard. So we decided to go looking around the yard where we heard the noise coming from. Of course, arming ourselves each with a kitchen knife and a makeshift riot baton. And flashlights, of course. There was a clear path of leaves that had been turned up. But disappointingly, little evidence of what might have been out there, so we went back to the porch and discussed what may or may not have been walking around outside. Maybe an hour after we'd forgotten the yard incident.

I saw a faint blue light by the far end of the fence, opposite end of the property from where we had heard the noise. It was there for a few minutes, but then disappeared. We're not exactly sure what to label the encounter as, we just assumed it was aliens, because what else might I have been? And then someone comments saying, I want to hear the forgotten wampus cat story. And the opi then tells this story saying, maybe 19 years ago, my uncle. same one who's been here reminded me of something that happened to him when he and my grandpa were camping

on the Occhalokany River. I know I fucked that up, but oh well. It was a fishing trip, and they were there for a few days. But one night as my uncle, Poppy and a family friend were sitting around the fire, they heard a noise out of nowhere. My uncle just described it

as a really loud woman scream woven with a hyena laughing through it. After that, Poppy grabbed his gun, told my uncle to get in the tent, and him and his friend started loading the rifles. That's basically all that happened that night, and he never heard it again on that trip. But after they had gotten home, Poppy told his uncle about the wampus cat and said that it was the same noise that scared his dad in the previous story. On a separate account, my great-uncle George went camping with Poppy and my uncle, and said

that he woke up in the middle of the night because he thought Poppy might have been awake starting breakfast, but it was something else. Walking around the camp on two legs, he couldn't make out exactly what it was, because he didn't have his glasses on and he was seeing the silhouette through

the tent. We just categorized that as the Wampus Cat as well. The return of the Blue Lady. Just recently, the last three years or so, my cousin, Michael, Uncle Mike's son, see above, and his wife moved into my aunt Brenda's house with their baby. Keep in mind, no one has seen the blue lady since the

day she was wearing white. Michael has seen someone walk down the hall in a white gown. But then no one comes out, and no one is around when he checks. Remember who the blue lady was? The baby, who was two at the time, has been reacting to something we can't see. She'll smile and laugh and talk about it. The baby was crying one night. And Aunt Brenda and Michael heard it on the baby monitor. while they were in the living room with Uncle George. It was late, so they assumed she was having a bad dream. But then heard, shh, over the baby monitor.

Michael's wife was at work, and no one else was in that part of the house. Ghost hunting shit. We started doing this around 2000. My mom, my uncle, his now ex-wife, and Aunt Jenna would go to supposed haunted locations around our area. In old Civil War battleground, Civil War cemeteries, etc.

stuff easily accessible with no permission. And we'd walk around in the middle of the nights like assholes with video cameras that did not have night vision. On the very first night we went out, we went to the battleground, natural bridge and two cemeteries. We did not get anything on tape until we went to Memory Gardens. While walking around, my uncle and his sister saw giant black shape move in front of them. Maybe a few seconds later, my mom and I saw a similar shadow. moved by our legs on the ground. We weren't sure what it was. But at the next cemetery, we caught a voice on tape. It was like an old man moaning. It sounded exactly how you think a zombie

would. It was really freaky because we didn't hear audibly when we were out there. We've now been ghost hunting, but we changed the party up a little bit. My mom and aunt no longer go with us. My uncle and aunt divorced. He remarried. And we've changed. We changed the party up a little bit. And we added my cousin from the first Wampas cat story. So we hit up our usual hotspots, but tried a new cemetery out. It's maybe 10 miles from the town where my cousin and ants were terrorized by the Wampus cat. We're doing our normal routine when at the end of the main row there's a headstone with claw marks in it, almost at the base. It shocked us at first, but then we kind of laughed it off. No big, press on. Another year pass.

and we did our annual ghost hunting thing. And when we returned to that cemetery, we looked all over for the headstone with the claw marks, but couldn't find it. Whatever, maybe we were mistaken on where it was. And we looked around, did some EVP sessions. We now knew what they were called, and actually got some audible recordings.

They were incomprehensible, but we got something. And near the end of that particular cemetery investigation, my uncle accidentally kicked over a child's headstone. It was small, so it was nearly impossible to see. And after that, he wasn't too keen on hunting ghosts anymore. That was the last real time we did that. So now I'm bringing you to the present day. My uncle and his new wife and my fiancé and I lived together.

But before they made the move, there were really weird things happening in the apartment that my fiancé and I were living in. One night, it sounded. like someone walking around, making my puppy bark, nothing major. But then about two months ago, it started getting in really freaky after they moved in. I had taken my fiancé to school, and my uncle and I were going to a job fair. I'd gotten a shower and was dressed, and walked into the hallway from our bedroom. And he asked me, when are you taking fiancé to school?

I just kind of looked at him and told him I had done that maybe two hours ago. He gives me a weird look and says, okay, doesn't say anything else about it. When we were in the car on the way to the job fair, he says, I asked you that because I thought I saw her walk into the bathroom behind you. Again, he likes to bullshit me, so I was like, ha ha, yeah, right, but he was genuinely freaked out about it. A few days after the pseudo-fiancee was seen, my uncle, his wife and I were sitting in the living room watching TV when we heard a loud crash from their room. His wife instantly got pissed and was mad at their dog because she thought she might have knocked something over in the room. But the dog is right here.

We wanted to investigate what happened, and their cat's food bowl was thrown across the room, cat food food everywhere. Just to give you an idea, the cat's bowl was on a small desk in their room, and the bed was up higher than the desk. We tried to shrug it off, thinking maybe the cat just knocked it off somehow. but again, the bowl was all the way across the room. What the fuck? Again. After my uncle's son moved in with us, we decided we needed a larger place, so we got a bigger apartment. It was kind of a joke at this point that we were in a haunted apartment, and it would be a good idea to have a normal place.

The very first week we were living there, one of my fiancé's drawers flew out from the chest it was in. Kind of rattled me, but I dismissed it as I forgot to push it in. all the way after putting clothes up. Then maybe two weeks after that, we're all going to go eat somewhere. And as we were leaving, our clock jumps off of the wall and breaks. Not totally, but some of the body chips off. At this point, we didn't want to scare my uncle's kid. So we're just like, oops, need a bigger nail to secure it.

The most recent thing is one night I was watching TV in my room, and my fiancé, who is sleeping very heavily, wakes up and just shrinks into the covers and stares at me. I cuddle her, ask her what's wrong, and she says she doesn't want to talk about it. I try to calm her down and ask again. She whispers that there's something staring at her from the corner of the room. She doesn't want it to hear her, and she doesn't want to look at it. I looked to where she told me and can't see anything. I was thinking maybe she was still kind of stuck in her dream, but she maybe turned the lights on. She just stayed awake until it got light out and then went to sleep.

I asked her about it later that day and said she can't remember what it was, but it really scared her. Like she didn't want to talk about it because she was afraid she would see it again. Fuck, just got reminded of another short occurrence 15 years ago. Michael's sister, Sabrina, was at Aunt Brenda's house and was washing dishes. She turned toward the back door to put some dishes up and heard a thump and small footsteps running away on the other side of the door. Thinking it was maybe a cat, she opened the door to see if it was one of the cats wanting to get inside. Nothing there. She happened to glance at the window sill out of the door and saw two very small handprints in the dust,

like a Barbie or something was hanging there looking inside. Honestly, I have no idea what that might have been. And that is the final kind of story of this amalgamation of stories. but this was a crazy, crazy kind of set of stories this OPE had told. I mean, in the very beginning, he said, these are all fucked up stories from my family's history. It involves evil spirits, monsters, aliens, and serial killers. I mean, yeah, I guess his aunt got murdered,

or his cousin got murdered by Ted Bundy or something. And then this family has been terrorized by the devil, evil spirits, and little small people looking into the wind window, also the Blue Lady, ghosts, and every, I mean, I would love to feel or love to read these stories more fleshed out. I mean, like, these were great stories and very interesting stories, but I would love for this OP to flesh out these stories even longer because it seems like he has more stories to tell. And these could have definitely been longer. But I thought those

stories were great, super, super interesting. And yeah, that family has been through a lot. But I'd love to sit down with the O.P. and talk to him, but that was very, very interesting. Hopefully it wasn't jumping around too much for you guys to follow, but I really enjoyed that one. On to the next one. I made a thread at the start of the year about some weird experiences I had as a Boy Scout. I'll just post what I had in there. I've lived my entire life in Oklahoma, and it's probably just about as rural as most of you think it is. outside of the Oklahoma City

slash Moore slash Norman area in Tulsa Oklahoma is mostly small towns, casinos and lots and I mean lots of woods and open plains backcountry galore

a perfect place to teach young scouts the basics without throwing them right into the heart of the fray it's usually pretty quiet everywhere you go and people are generally friendly or the definition of a flyover state. If there's one thing people probably immediately relate to Oklahoma,

it's Indians slash native land slash reservations slash folklore slash etc. While this stuff isn't prevalent in the bigger cities, it becomes incredibly prominent as you enter the more rural parts of the state. For those curious, I'm not sure how much land is still legally considered native, but it's probably more than any other state. This particular incident occurred the summer of 2011, at a scout camp not far from the Oklahoma-Slaschexas border. This was the last trip I ever made out there,

and I don't really regret it. Camp last Sunday through Saturday, one week, arrive on Sunday, work on Merit Badges Monday through Thursday, chill Friday, leave Saturday. The leaders of my trooper comprised almost entirely of one family, whom I'll call the Perkins. There was the great-grandfather, C, the grandfather, and the grandson, Buck. C was about 75 when I joined, and fit the Crockety old man stereotype like a glove. He was abrasive, impatient, and quick to lose his temper while at the same time, happy help any boy that didn't ask stupid questions.

C was also a war veteran. Not sure which war, though. Dee was a lot like his father, except, I don't know. Cryptic? I guess what I'm trying to say is that you could tell Dee he had seen some shit. He was a little out there. Very, my way or the highway. Do what I say if you don't want to die kind of guy.

Probably 60-ish, but built like a bear. The man was massive and intimidating, and he knew it. And to this day, I think Dean knows a hell of a lot more about this particular incident than he'll ever tell. But I never had the courage to ask him about anything. Buck, the grandson, was about a year older than me. Buck was a bit thick in the head, but he was tough and built just like his granddad. He was also as loyal as a golden retriever. And the word fear wasn't exactly in his rather limited vocabulary, but I digress.

Another key player was my best friend at the time, Dylan. Dylan was stubborn, headstrong, and generally looking for trouble. He and I started scouts together at six, and were the only two that had stuck together since that time. We were usually inseparable, which probably saved our lives that night. Now, I was about the opposite of Dylan. I was meek, easily scared, and suffered from constitutional delay, which means that I looked like I was 10 even though I was 15. Pick related.

I'm the Scrony Kid in the Blue. This was taken in an early 2010 around April. So anyway, we've been going to this scout camp for as long as I had been involved with the troop. Every summer, usually in June or July, we'd make our week trip down there and head home. Dylan and I knew what the camp was supposed to feel like and sound like, as did C&D, who had been going there for 20 odd years or so. This year, we immediately knew something was off. Have you ever walked into a place and just felt like bad vibes? Like bad energy just kind of taking up residence somewhere?

It was kind of like that, the moment we drove through the gates. The younger boys seemed pretty oblivious, but I know Dylan felt like I did. And, D, man, I don't think I've ever seen D as tense as he was that whole week. He was normally pretty chelax, if a little short. strict, but he was on edge the moment we arrived on the grounds until we left on Saturday. I suppose the best way to do this from here on out is give a chronological account of events that happened day to day over the week. That's the only way I can think to do this without losing myself and you guys. The first thing you do when arriving at camp is drive to the

registration office to confirm campsites, number of boys, leaders, etc. We did this, but D was gone for a very long time. When he came back, he was being escorted by a camp ranger. As Dee was hopping back into the sedan, I remember hearing the ranger say something like, Just let me know ASAP if anything happens. While this isn't an odd thing to say or hear, I now wonder if it had a deeper meaning. Our campsite was toward the northeast end of the camp,

down in a tiny valley surrounded by rock outcroppings on the north and south. The northern outcroppings were split from east to west and created what we called the storm shelter. Basically, this little crevice we'd hide in if severe weather ever sprang up. I was assigned to check up on it. Make sure if it was clear of debris and shit before the week started. So I walked around to the shelter and I slammed with this awful smell. I knew it was something dead and it smelled big. Once I got down into the crevice, I saw that it wasn't something big,

but a bunch of smaller animals in piles. Birds, foxes, raccoons, parts of a deer. There was a ton of dead mutilated bodies back there. I nearly puked. It smelled so bad. The heat didn't help either. Alarm bells weren't really ringing yet, but I was definitely weirded out.

I told Dee about it, and he said he'd have a look and clean up and that I should just forget about it. Pick related. Similar looking to. to the storm shelter. Monday. Our campsite was basically set up as one giant semi-circle.

Our tents formed a ring that almost enclosed pavilions in the center. Very little time was actually spent at our campsite as we are all working on merit badges. At the mess hall slash canina slash shooting range, lake, etc. There was no reason for any boy to be in camp. And it was rare to find one who wanted to stay in camp. Dylan and I stuck together most evenings, and Monday night we decided to shoot, or rather, Dylan decided to shoot. I was terrible shot. Didn't want to pay for ammo, I'd end up wasting.

We were about halfway to the range when he realized he'd forgotten his money, so we turned around and headed back towards the camp. When we got there, it was empty as expected. But we noticed one of the tent flaps had been left open. Big problem there. Dee was constantly honest to keep our flaps shut, so as to keep any curious woodland animals or insects out of the tents. So I walked over there to zip it up when I realized that it was still zipped, and that the door had simply been ripped open. The tent had been ransacked. Sleeping bags were shredded, trunks flipped over and these supplies gone through.

It was an utter wreck. I called Dylan over. And our conversation went something like, shit, man, holy hell, who would do this? I don't know, man, it wasn't one of our boys. Dude, make sure he'd never see the light of day again. Should we tell him? Do you want to have your head bit off?

Let's let him find it himself. That was a stupid decision in hindsight. We should have found D and alerted him immediately. But since we didn't want to suffer his wrath, we didn't. When we got back to camp that night, everyone was on edge. All of the younger boys were freaking out, whispering about Bigfoot, etc. Dee told us that the rest of the week we all had to be back in camp before sundown, which I thought was kind of pointless.

The tent had been ransacked during the day, but whatever. Pick related, similar to the campsite. Tuesday. Tuesday was actually pretty uneventful. All I recall is that some boys, a couple campsites over from ours got spooked because they heard noises in and around their campsite that night. If I'm being honest, that could have been anything. There's an awful lot of animals and life out in rural Oklahoma, and it's not unusual for news-slash-ameter scouts to accidentally lure raccoons or foxes occasionally bigger things in a camp by leaving

food out at night. But I still have to wonder if it is related to my other experiences that week. Wednesday. Wednesday was different. The best of the best of the Bad vibes seem to have been getting stronger. Or maybe that was just me getting more wound up. I don't know. What I do know is that the mess hall had been broken into the night before and utterly wrecked. Food had been half eaten.

Supplies were strewn everywhere. At least, that's what I heard. We weren't allowed up the mess hall until dinner that night. By which time, the camp had cleaned everything up. Of course, everyone was on edge now. There were mutterings and whisperings, rumors circulating that basically would have been an ex-wet dream. Did you hear? They found some homeless guy camping out on the other side of the lake.

Tom found some really weird footprints outside his tent last night. Did you see them? I heard some weird mating call last night. Did anyone else? Could have sworn I was being stalked while walking back to camp last night. Anyone else feel the same way? Out of all of these rumors, there was one that stuck out to me. after the week was over.

And the only reason it did was because it reminded me of my experience on Sunday. I found it dead raccoon outside my tent last night. It was like mutilated and shit. Which one of you fuckers thought that would be funny? I guess outside of the mess hall business,

Wednesday was pretty uneventful too. Just really tense. Thursday. Holy shit, man. Thursday. Thursday night. camp would always sort of hold this party thing out by the main gate to sort of celebrate the hard work everyone had put in over the week.

There would be a bonfire, a chuck wagon, basically the canteen on wheels, stories and songs, lots of Boy Scout stuff, you know, anyways, Dee was super against letting anyone in the troop go. He wanted to keep every boy in camp that night. But after listening to 12 and 13 year olds, whine and cry for 13 men, and cry for 13 men, minutes, he kind of begrudgingly changed his mind and allowed them to go as long as they were escorted by the older boys. So Buck, Dillon, and I were pretty much responsible for crowling 15 middle schoolers. Dee said he had a meeting to go to, which I knew was a lie. Scoutmaster

meetings were always held in the mornings, never at night, but what the hell? So the three of us started walking them down there. When I realized that we've left the flashlights back at camp and we only have about five minutes of light left. I tell Dylan and Buck to go on ahead of me, but both insist on coming. In the end, Buck escorted the kids to the bonfire while Dylan and I went back to camp. That was a mistake for multiple reasons. We had only been gone for about 10 minutes, which means it was almost complete dark once we got back. But our camp was totaled. Our pavilions have been torn down, tents in their contents were strewn about everywhere, Food was out and scattered.

It was a complete mess. Alarm bells were basically screaming, Code red, code red, get the fuck out right now. But Dylan was already into the camp before I could stop him. And that's when these smell hit us. That smell of dead, decaying stuff. But this time, it was mixed with something else. Kind of like spoiled milk?

I'm not entirely sure how to describe it. Not the burnt copper or blood scent X says is related to goat men. I know what that smells like. This was something else. Dillon and I both agreed that we needed to find D.A.Sap. Fate was on our side that night because not a second later, he rushed into camp in full command of mode. I'm talking giant knife on his hip, brandishing a pistol.

Sorry, I don't know anything. about guns in the biggest flashlight I've ever seen. Dylan and I immediately started blubbering to D about what was going on, begging for answers, and almost crying. He told us to both shut up, but quietest voice I've ever heard. That's what I noticed his face for the first time. He had a gash down the right side of his forehead that was bleeding pretty profusely, and a massive bruise beginning to envelop the left side of his face. It looked like he had picked a fight with a titanium beam and lost. Let me just remind you that D is about 6-7, 6-7 and 260 pounds of pure muscle.

Whatever bested him was fucking strong. Dee beckoned us over to him at the conversation with something like, where the hell are the kids? The bonfire, sir. What the fuck are you doing back here? We forgot the flashlights, sir. All right, all right. Here's what's going to happen.

Dylan, I'm going to have you with this knife, okay? Anon, you go get the flashlights you were talking about and point them towards the storm shelter. I'm going over there. If anything but me comes out, you two run like hell. Do you understand? We nodded, and off he went. He rounded the corner into the shelter, and that's about when we heard the noise. Have you ever heard someone trying to talk while choking on their own blood or something like that?

That sort of gurgling, gasping noise? That's what it sounded like, mixed with a sort of, low growling. Dylan and I stood there frozen for what felt like hours, but was probably more like five minutes. When that noise abruptly ceased, and Dee returned pale as shit, but in one piece.

So Dee escorted us there and refused to answer any of our questions or give us any sort of closure as to what had just happened. All he said was, I don't think we'll have to worry about anything for the rest of the week. So we went to the bonfire. But Dylan and I kept to ourselves and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. When we got back to the camp, we did our best to repair as much as we could in the dark.

Dylan and I didn't sleep at all that night. We were wide awake. And while it must have been around midnight, I heard a few noises outside and saw a flashlight beam waving around before finally coming to a still position, pointed towards the storm shelter. I poked my head out of the tent and observed Dee sitting in a chair. flashlight pointed at the storm shelter, watching and waiting. I watched Dee all night.

And Friday, I finally got some answers. By Friday, I mean around 6.30 that morning. Around then, C came out of his tent and proceeded to have exactly quiet conversation with D. Now, bear with me, as I'm reconstructing this from memory, so some bits might not be entirely accurate. Anything new? No, I've been out here all night, nothing since I saw it earlier. I still think you're wrong. They never come this far south, especially this time of year.

Must have been something else. I know what I saw, Dad, I'm telling you, they're getting bolder, or more desperate. Or more desperate. Well, I'm heading to the mess hall. Need my coffee, want anything? And they proceeded to talk about breakfast for a while and see eventually left. I figured if I wanted any sort of closure as the last night, now was my only chance to talk to D alone. So I approached D.

But before I could say anything, he turns around and gave me a look that could have curdled new milk. I stopped in my tracks, and he says, come, sit. So I sat next to him. And this is all I got out of him. You were pretty brave last night, kid. incredibly stupid but brave what did you see nothing sir hmm he was quiet for a good five minutes and i finally mustered up the courage to ask him what the hell was going on sir yes pardon me sir but but what is it what what's going on how old are you anon fifteen sir ain't on ain't on the world

is a far darker place and you realize right now. You're too young. Let me give a piece of advice that you need to keep in your head during times just like this. Don't ask questions. You don't want to know the answers to. Or that you already know the answer to. Do I know the answer to this question, sir? Do you?

It wasn't natural, was it, sir? Depends on your definition of natural, Aonon. to me, the thing that's terrorized us all week is as natural as any other creature in these woods and on this earth. Simply a darker side of nature. One that usually stays away from heavily trafficked areas like this. They don't like people in large groups. Then what's going on here, sir? Honestly, and I don't know.

I think I got confused. Lost even. Is it gone, sir? For now. Yes, I don't think you'll come back while we're here. Dylan woke up about then, as did the rest of the camp and our conversation was cut short. The rest of Friday was pretty uneventful. Dylan Buck and I paled around camp for a while, talking about what we thought it was.

Or rather, Buck and I did. Dylan didn't really talk about it. It acted increasingly irritated as the day went on. Friday night, all was well. I slept heavily. had bad dreams but i slept saturday we're up around 630 that morning to tear down camp i was ready to go and even though d was reassuring friday morning i could tell he was eager to leave too he was tense and would often stop to look towards the storm shelter about 1130 d asked me to heck the shelter area and

clean it up with him even though no one had actually used it at all during that week we got back there and it was completely different than what I'd seen Sunday. It had been cleaned, spotlessly so, and something similar to pick-related had been marked on each side of the canyon walls. I assume it's native, but I don't know what it means and I've never particularly cared to find out.

We left about noon and I've never gone back. So that's my big story. The one I can't really explain. I know Dee knew way more than he was letting on. I think Buck knew more than I did too, but he clammed up whenever I tried to talk to him about it. So, X, what do you guys think? What was it? I think it was Native American, to say the least, but I don't know what.

I have a couple more if anyone is interested and can answer questions too. I'll be here for a while yet. Speculative, I'm afraid. That's part of the reason I'm posting to X. any X files have any idea as to what this thing could have been and that's the last of the archived thread that I could access and what do you think I mean immediately what comes to my head always is skin walker this reeks of a skin walker I mean Native American

the woods the kind of desert area America or yeah I mean Oklahoma a lot of Native American activity around there this reeks of a one to go or a skinwalker to me. But what do you guys think? I mean, at the end, he said, it's unexplained, or I can't explain it. And so that wraps up with the title of today's video, unexplainable 4chan threads. But yeah, what do you guys think? I think it's a skinwalker of some sort, but I don't know. A very good story. I enjoyed it. It was a little bit different than usual. I mean, it didn't have, it felt very real to me. You know how some 4chan threads are super out there. And then they're like, oh my God, I saw a skinwalker. I saw this deer running with a human head.

You know, that sort of kind of made up stuff. This felt very real to me. And I do believe there's some creatures out there that are unexplainable. But what do you guys think? Comment down below. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics.

Let's see what you've got. Sign up for free at rbc trainingground.ca. Hey there. Demon Room ain't on back with another story. Nothing paranormal about this one, but it is in fact scary. For some background, I will need to divulge into my high school life a bit, mainly to talk about David. David was one of those kids, creepy, unkempt, and very awkward.

But many hung out with him due to him always having the money to buy friendship. No one ever had a good thing to say about him. always smelled, never seemed to wash, never seemed to be able to not make things awkward. Nothing too crazy at first, but around senior year is when he became very unhinged. He had always been creepy when it came to personal space, walked too closely, sometimes accidentally touched either me or a friend of ours, regardless of gender, and always did it with an air of, if you say yes, we fuck, If you say no, it's a joke.

But now he went out of his way to make it clear what his intentions were around us. At one point, he got punched by one of our friends when he accidentally groped her chest. And one time, he got full on expelled for sneaking into the women's locker room and gave the excuse that he was too high to know where he was. No, really, that was his excuse. Once he got expelled, I only heard about him here and there. Nothing wild, but more like Bigfoot. It was sightings and rumors.

So let's just fast forward to the story at hand. Be me. Working at a call center. Get put in charge of a trainer's room. Think of it like teacher aide, but for trainers to see who'd be good to take a spot as a trainer once they or someone else leaves the position. Main thing I need to do is be like the hip fellow.

The trainees talk to since, Many who come in are usually straight out of high school, and I was still 21 at the time. Nothing out of the usual, but we have people closer or older than I am this time around. All around nice people, chill enough to even go out and drink with. But among them, I see a familiar face. The same fat, unkempt creeper I knew back in high school. Oh no. I try my best to conceal my identity.

I was very fat in high school, but over that time I fit slash Ted up, so it wasn't hard to conceal who I was with so much of the weight gone. Trainer then yells. Yo, Anon, can you help me out with this? Fuck. David dies immediately lock onto mine and he bolts towards me. I tried to get away and pretend like I don't see him. Luckily, that was enough to get away. Think maybe he was just young, dumb, and full of hormones.

back in high school, and he's changed. Nope. No less than a week goes by before one of my female trainees comes to me. Mr. Anon, can I please talk to you in private? Sure, let's go into the room. We sit there for good five minutes in silence before she finally tells me that another trainee has made her feel uncomfortable. Ah, fuck, I think.

Can I know who it is? David, she says. Said that earlier in the week, she was sitting next to him when she asked if she could borrow a pen for some paperwork, she needed to fill out. She continues by saying he not only took a pen out of his pocket whilst making lewd gestures, but as he gave her the pen, he slightly rubbed his hand on hers. Tells me that she got very uncomfortable, but didn't know who to talk to.

Tell her, I'll speak to David, and to leave her to leave her, leave it to me. Next day, called David to a meeting and tell him to stop fucking around, and that this is in high school. If some shit happens is on my in the trainer's ass and it can get him arrested. David just tries to say, she wanted it, man. She was like so into it. I saw how wet she got.

Oh, fuck's sake. David, if you do this again, I'm going to have to not only write you up, but suspend you without pay. Lull, okay. decide that maybe that's all he needs and moves on. Next couple of days, get complaints from both the men and women in the class about how creepy he is. Tell them if you want him out, please make a report out of this. Company has a policy where you can't complain on someone else's behalf,

no matter how much evidence you may have on the person. Over the next few days, everything from complaints about his smell to his dress to even his work. ethic was sent to me. A few examples. He vomited on his jeans and came to work with the same jeans, unwashed for a week. He smelled like urine for three days straight and got very close to people when they told him that fact. He kept slightly touching or poking people when they told him to stop multiple times. He full on reached for someone's ding-dong down there at one point. All these complaints and not one report. Fast forward, two months into training and a trainee comes to me that she wants to file a complaint on him. Oh shit. Lady goes on to tell me that David followed her

to her car the night before. He was asking her for a ride and she refused more than three times. Finally, she got in her car and was about to go when she saw David put his backpack on her hood. He then proceeded to try and open her car door. Let me the fuck in. I want a ride home. I'll die without a ride home. You fucking slut. You whore, fuck.

He yelled according to her. She finally just decided to drive off, but not before he hit her window and cracked it. Okay. This is where it ends. But wait. There's more. As I was writing this report to turn it into PR, another woman comes in. Oh, hell.

Miss Anon, what can I do for you? she begins to cry her eyes out. Uh-oh. Goes on to tell me about how David had cornered her during the previous week's team meeting outside. Says he looked like a man possessed and looked up and down in her like he was just waiting. She got so scared she ran out of the room and just left. She did in fact leave early that day without a word until later that night where I got a text telling me she had an extreme emergency. and I just shrugged it off and let it go.

She also wants to file a report and I say, okay, whilst get the paperwork. And she asked me, is he going to get fired? I tell her that since he now has two reports to his name, it is a very real possibility, but just in case, keep your distance and tell him right away if anything happens. She leaves and I am now stuck with having to write two reports for this guy and in some way I'm relieved because it just means I won't have to deal with him much longer.

I turn in the reports and notice David outside. Think about talking to him and maybe, just maybe, making him understand how fucked he really is. I decide not to and just walk off. All of a sudden I feel a hand on my shoulder and I realize from just the smell it's David. Now what? Turn to David and there he is looking at.

at me like he wanted to just stab the first thing he saw. What did those bitches fucking tell you? Do they talk shit to me? Did they go behind my fucking back? Those cheating horrors. I didn't answer his questions, but I did tell him that he has to make sure to watch himself from now on unless he wants to be put on some sort of registry.

A month passes, and the brass doesn't seem enough to fire this creep. I'm just as surprised as anyone. Finally, the fateful day comes. David's finest hour. Starts off normal, but for the past month, we had David in a separate cubicle away from the class at the behest of our PR department. Finally, lunchtime goes, and of course, my job is to keep a lookout for David.

If anyone here has worked for the certain company I worked for, you know they run their shit like they do the mob. Really shady, and no one outside usually gets involved in people on the floor or in management get used for, say, unusual secondary tasks. Go about my lunch having to make sure David doesn't leave my sight or go near anyone. Most of the team I was helping train felt bad and ate with me during that time, even though they knew they weren't supposed to. Anyways, get to about 3.30, almost time to let the trainees go home.

All of a sudden, David comes up to me, looks me in the eye, like he tried telling me something with only his gaze. Can I help? you, sir? I need you to teach me something again, sir. Uh, okay, sure. What do you need help with? He takes me to his cubicle. I see him reach into his bag. He takes out a list. It has written on it the names of the people who have either filed a report or just generally complained about him.

David, what is this? Just a list, sir. I just want to make sure that they get what comes to them someday. What? You know, I have a gun or two, not mine, but I can still use them. David, you do know what you're telling me can be taken as a threat. So what? You're my friend. If I kill them, you can help me, right?

Remember I gave you a dollar in high school? I scratched your back, now scratch mine. Decide that enough was enough and go to the PR person. Tell her the shit that happened, and she tries to make every excuse as to why it may have not been so bad or why we can't just fire him. Tell her that besides me, two other people filed official reports and everyone has complained more than once about him. Finally, she gives way and says they'll investigate it.

Tell her if she wants to see it, then her best option would be to get him to show you his bag right now. Reluctantly decides to go and check his bag along with some security guards. David knowing that he's fucked tries to make up any excuse he can. No, they're all just bullying me. They're hating me because I'm gay. I have bipolar depression and need help. I'm a virgin with rage.

I'm not kidding. Literally, anything he can do to try and get out of it. David, knowing he can't get out of this, snaps and lunges at the PR woman. He actually gets a good few hits in before the security guards and I pride him off of her. The whole thing makes enough of. of a scene to get people to look at what's going on. David continues to try and fight his way out of it all and even takes a swing at me before the head trainer who is former military sergeant

comes and just chokes him out. We tossed David outside and called the police. PR lady files a report that he went and assaulted her. Police also find three bags of booger sugar in his back arrested on assault and possession charges. He gets hauled off hopefully to never be seen again. After the dust settles, I finally decided to rest at my desk. As I was going back to my desk, I found another note that was from David. If you're reading this, it's because I wanted to see your face last. I wanted you to be the final one I shot. I want you to be the last thing you fucking see, you traitor, you man-hoor, I hate you and I will kill you. Never heard if he is out or still in custody.

But I won't lie when I say I still look over at my shoulder sometimes. Oh, and here is the pick related of the note I kept. And yeah, the O.P shows, I guess, relative proof that this guy really did threaten to kill him. And you can see it all here. I mean, I'm not going to reread it. But very interesting story. What a crazy guy. And hopefully the OPE is all right because who knows if this crazy guy is going to show back up

and try to get revenge almost. I mean, this guy definitely seems off his rocker a bit, but very interesting story. Well, gentlemen, I'm drunk, and I feel this is about the only time I can really tell this story. So here it goes. In Afghanistan, Marine Squad Leader, on an extended patrol, basically sit out there and watch the surrounding desert, occasionally catch a few guys and placing IEDs. About 0.130.

Checking up on my guys to make sure they aren't falling to sleep slash need anything. Get to my last VIC. Guy in the turret says he is watching a group of about five guys walking to a compound in the distance on thermals. Grab thermals, get talked on them, and that's when it gets weird. Technically, they were colder than the surrounding environment. Weird. Keep eyes on since nothing else to do. entire time they're still heading to this compound in the distance get there they spend about five minutes

milling around outside looks like they go to the front gate a few times but hard to see don't know how but they got the gate open then sprint right inside here distant gunshots call it in c oc says check it out could be taliban fucking up the locals get everyone up and ready blackout conditions and move to the compound rolling up on the compound about 500 meters away see a kid book it out of the compound runs straight out happens to be toward us i say fuck it flip on the headlights he sees our lights heads right for us even faster than he did before gets to us start screaming at us and our turp is flipping shit just as he got to us eight dudes came out of the compound and started sprinting towards us as well it's still 300 meters away

So we pop a star cluster at them to get them to halt. Still running. 200 meters away. Pop another. Kid is still babbling. Terp is screaming to shoot. Get on radio. Keep COC updated.

They hit 100 meters. Penflare goes off. 50 meters. COC says it's Mike Hall. They are now in range of our headlights. All of them are covered in blood. I give the go ahead. Too close to effectively use our 50s and marks, so thank fuck my turret gunners grabbed the

SAWs instead. Holt's squad had dismounted by then. Doc was checking the kid. Eight dudes getting lit up by three SAWs and the rest of the squad magdumping the rifles. Needless to say, didn't take long since we were Marines and we generally don't miss. Check the bodies. All unarmed but drenched in blood. More than could be accounted for with our five second one-second one-sexuals.

side firefight. Call it in. Head to check out the compound. Set up a cordon. I take the dismounts and turp up to the compound. Terp is screaming to just level the place with an airstrike. Fucking Terps. Always saying we should use way more than we should. Sometimes they're right. Add the gate, not forced open, but there was body parts right on the inside. Looked like one person got ripped apart, real nasty. Worse than when I saw a chick ripped in half from a mortar. Guns up, clearing the rest of the compound. Everyone inside either had their guts ripped out, arms ripped off, necks torn out, or otherwise dismembered and dead.

Call in what we found. COC tells me to stand by. Smoke a couple of cigarettes. Terp is asking when the airstrike is coming in. COC finally gets back and tells me that a special human exploitation team is coming out to assist. human exploitation team anyone cared to explain to us who aren't former service what this

actually means and apparently a human exploitation team is a interrogation building trust with locals gleaning info and what we've got a kid who's basically in shock and a whole bunch of dead bodies

whatever they want us to wait we'll wait COC also says not to go into the compound could be rigged with IEDs thanks for the timely the intel guys. We wait about 45 minutes when I get a call from a Helo asking us to Mark an LZ for them. All right, don't know why they couldn't just drive out there. Hope we don't have to drive them back to whatever F-O-B they came from after they're done. Helo shows up,

lands, drops off three dudes, then takes off. Hello, Cap Maynon. I'm Major So-and-So. Heard you had something interesting for my team. Give him a rundown of events leading up to the shoot order. Did you go inside? Yes, sir, we did. We conducted a full search of the compound, found nothing. He gets quiet, goes over to the bodies, uses blue light on his flashlight to check out the bodies. Blue light makes it easier to see fluids like blood and oil at night. Hmm. He calls his two guys over, says a few words, and they drop their packs and start changing into MOPP gear. Think rubber suits, rubber boots, rubber gloves, and gas masks. If you don't know, tells me to just wait.

More waiting. They go inside, spend five minutes and then about five-day gunshots real quick. Probably different people shooting simultaneously. Oh shit. Without thinking, I grab a couple of my guys and book it to the compound again. Calling out for the major. Oh, fuck. If we missed a spider hole or something and got them killed, we are fucked.

I'm the first one into the gate, and just as I got through it, one of the guys steps right in front of me and says everything is fine. mine, they just had a negligent discharge. He also says they found an IED manufacturing room and that we should leave since it isn't safe and they're doing the same. What? Who the fuck just accidentally shoots off eight rounds? And we sure as shit didn't miss something as big or important as IED components.

They finish up, Heelo comes back and picks them up. We head back to base. Get redirected to a larger FOP halfway there. No explanation, just told to go and link up with the capital. Captain. Already exhausted, we get there at like 0,800. As soon as we called in for permission to enter friendly lines, we get told to wait again. 30 minutes of sitting in front of the skate, waiting. Finally get waved through and we are immediately directed to a staging area right on the inside of the wire. Guys are standing in MOPP suits, get told to dismount and shed all our gear.

Apparently, the major found evidence of possible chemical weapons in the IED factory, so we need to be scrubbed for exposure. We get shuffled off to some makeshift showers where we strip down, hand off all our gear to dudes in MOPP suits that clean it while we get ourselves a nice freezing cold bleak shower in what amounts to basically a few tarps hung up for a semblance of privacy from the rest of our FOB. After it's all said and done, they had given us every last bit of our gear and ourselves a full scrub. We got different vehicles since it would take them longer to do those, plus replacing the crew systems and other electronics in them. A few weeks later, we got sent on some convoy op to a major FOB. Get told whole squads had to go to medical to check for adverse reactions to the exposure from that night.

Get our blood drawn. Then nothing. Went on a patrol near where that compound was later. Nothing left but a crater. All the locals stayed away from it too. And that my friends is my story. I can elaborate on why I think shit was not on the level due to minor details. You don't use bleach to clean up chemical weapons.

That's for biological stuff only, etc. But there it is. Mostly uncut and from my perspective at the time. And apparently after telling this story, the O.P goes on to point out another weird thing about the event. When the things initially went into the compound, there were only five of them. but the convoy was attacked by eight individuals. So where did the others come from?

I don't know, very weird story, and I think a lot is unexplained still. I mean, I know that's the title of this video, but it's like, was it some sort of weird, I don't know, creatures out in the desert in that compound? Or was it soldiers? And why was there so many people like mutilated and cut in half? And why was there body parts everywhere? It's like, did these people get attacked by some sort of creature or something? I don't know. very interesting but leave your theories on this down below because i'd actually really love to hear you

guys thoughts on this give me some time with this i'm typing it as i post it and i'm going strictly by memory i've lived in a pretty secluded area of vermont all my life there is a giant opening big enough for a field in three houses each with a sizable yard in front and back but other than that there is woodland all around it probably doesn't count too much because there's a road that runs just quite close, but it is far enough away that you can't hear sirens when they go by. My house is in the middle of two hills, with an open field right next to it in dense woods around both the fields and the house. The field gets fairly long, however, sometimes to the point where it is above your head. Adjacent to this field, separated by a dense tree line and at the

bottom of a hill, there is another field, which rarely gets cut, and in which grow some pine trees. Around that field, however, is a huge expanse of woods, approximately 30 miles, 230 degrees around. There is a creek running around it and a path leading through it. My story is from a good few years ago when I was around 8 years old. My father still lived with me and my mother, and I used to take walks with him whenever weather permitted. We usually walked around the two fields, and we created and cleared paths whenever we could. We also dug some trenches for water to travel through so that the paths did not flood too heavily. One day, me and my father were doing just that.

Clearing paths and clearing out a trench, we had created just three weeks prior of leaves and sticks that were clogging in. It was getting rather dark, but we both had lanterns with us, so we could still get some work done. Eventually, my father got tired and asked if I wanted to stop for the day. I, as a youngling back then, told him I could keep going for a while. more. He then told me that he was going to journey back and get some coffee and dinner and asked if I wanted to come. I rejected as I could get more done if I stayed. This was not too uncommon for me, as I tended to wander off in my spare time. We had also taken our beagle with us, who tended to either wander around or stay near me, but only barked if she saw something,

which in a sense comforted me because she would have been able to alert. me if something was near. Even so, it was dark, and there tends to be bears and coyotes prowling around, so I tried to work quickly so I could finish what I wanted to before I got too nervous. An hour or so passed, and I was just about done as my dog started barking, turning toward her to see where she was barking. I noticed she was turned toward the creek. As I looked to where she was barking, I saw nothing. This was fairly abnormal, as every time she barked, it was at something in plain enough sight that I would be able to see it. So I was a bit uneasy. When I finished what I was doing, I turned to walk home. Around this time, I heard a low snarl behind me, too low to be a coyote

or my dog, and too dog-like to be a bear. I, of course, checked my dog first, and noticed her cowering away, but not making a noise. Looking to see what she was cowering from, I noticed a black mass, akin to a giant dog, think St. Bernard, but bigger, across the creek. Nobbing the fuck out of there, I left my lantern and tools behind and ran home as fast as I could, with my dog running beside me. As soon as I got home, I ran inside and attempted to find my parents. When I did, I launched myself near them and told them what happened. I don't think they believed me. As in the past, I tended to make up stories about how I battled raccoons and wolves,

but they comforted me anyways. While I was in bed, I heard a rustling in the tree line right outside my house. It may have just been the wind, but I heard underbrush crackling, so I think something was moving around. The next day, my father asked if I wanted to finish clearing the path. as there was a little bit left to do, but I couldn't have done it myself. I was a little bit hesitant, but I agreed, thinking I'd be safe with him with me. However, I did not want my dog to come with us.

When he told me to get my tools, I told him I had left them down there where I was. He wasn't very happy about that. Walking down, I was extremely alert, looking around as much as I could. There was no evidence that anything large was anywhere near the path. In the path itself was only big enough for a single file line, but I was still skeptical. When we reached the location where my tools were, we noticed quite quickly that my lantern was completely destroyed, something which my father was furious about as it had costed at least $100. My tools were fine, however, so he wasn't as upset as he could have been.

working for the next few hours and we finished everything and more leaving the next few months open to doing whatever so long as there is no damage from heavy rainfall or snow before we headed back nature called for my father and he wandered out of sight

he must have gone a ways away because it took him several minutes to go and come back but when he did he was running urging me to grab my tools and run he did the same concerned as all hell I asked what was wrong. He didn't answer me and instead looked around anxiously. I did the same.

As soon as we were packed up, we ran. We were good five miles away from home, however, so we were running a while. As we were running, I kept hearing things break behind us. Not the occasional twig snap. I mean, full-on, terrifying, lost shit. When I looked to see what was doing it, I nearly froze in fear. What I saw was as large as the mass I saw the night before, and it may well have been. However, because it was lighter out, I could discern its details. It was almost completely black, with dark red patches covering it randomly. Its face was akin to a dog's, and the rest of it was like a bear, the paws especially. When it picked them up, they looked like knives.

its ears were long and stood up. I did not see its teeth. As we neared home, the sound of breaking ceased, though we did not slow down by any means. When we got into the house, my father locked all of the doors and collapsed onto the couch from exhaustion. I did the same, but I recovered more quickly, being younger and a bit more fit. As I looked out the window, I did not see the creature, but I was still afraid of the woods and was for the next few days. My father was too, eventually putting up a steel fence around the perimeter of the tree line and a gate at the entrance of the path which he locked. My mother was not happy about all of this, but it gave me and my father some comfort, and so her opposition went away quickly. Over the next few weeks, my fear of the woods

subsided. My father, however, was still afraid, and over the next few months, I kept hearing him talk about not having enough money to keep paying for the house and wanting us to move. I, however, believe he wanted to move because he was still afraid. Eventually, he left and he and my mother got a divorce. He occasionally returned to the house to check the fence and the lock on the gate, but my mother quickly got tired of this and got a restraining order against him. I haven't seen nor heard of the creature since the night we ran from it. But recently, I have started to hear the fence creek, so I'm starting to feel fear of it again. And all right, guys, that wraps up some unexplainable 4chan threads.

This was a long video, almost two hours long. I hope you enjoyed. I like the longer video. It's fun to sit down for a while and just record all these stories. Did you enjoy these stories? Did you not? What was your favorite story? And if you really liked one, comment down below, and I'll probably read it and maybe comment or reply to it.

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