Snook - Unsettling TRUE Scary Stories

Episode Date: April 9, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to another scary stories video. You guys have been loving the subscribers submitted stories videos, and I've enjoyed them a lot. I've been really enjoying hearing from you guys and your personal stories. They're really scary and, yeah, stay safe out there. And welcome to some unsettling true scary stories. True is always scarier and I kind of love these. And comment down below if you'd like to see more in the future or something similar or maybe something different,

but just comment down below, help support the video. and also like and subscribe to the channel's goal is 500,000 subscribers, so please subscribe to the channel. It helps out a lot as well, and we're getting close to 500,000. So please subscribe. And yeah, all right, without further ado, let's get into some unsettling, true, scary stories. Hi, Snook, my name is Tala. I heard you were taking user-submitted stories, so I thought I'd send mine in. You should know, while this isn't a paranormal story, it is 100% true.

It's also probably a shorter one than your yours. usual bit, but here we go. I'm a 30-year-old woman who lives in the White Mountains region of New Hampshire. For privacy, I will not tell you the exact name of the trail I went on this day because I live in the town nearby it. However, what's important to know about this trail is that it's a nature preserve, specifically a bird reserve. The trail is long and flat and it ends in a beautiful pond. About two years ago now, I got really into bird photography. I bought some books about birding, specifically one that detailed birds found in New Hampshire, where to go to see them, and what times they are usually most active. It was March of that year, a little early in the

birding season, but still, the migration trackers showed that the first of the loons would be in my area. The book listed the pond down this trail near my hometown as the prime spot to view these beautiful birds. Of course, they are most active at sunrise, so in order to get the best chance of seeing them, I'd have to hike out the trail in the dark and be at the viewing spot by the time the sun came up. I'm a morning person, so I was genuinely excited to get out on the trail and see the birds. I left my house around 3.30 a.m. to hit the trail. I had a hiking pole, a headlamp, my camera, my stand, my binoculars, and whatever wits I could scramble together so early in the day. When I got out to the trail, I took inventory of my belongings and headed out.

Usually I'm a solo hiker, but normally I hike during the day. I do small trails by myself, but let my husband know where I'm going and when I'm expected to be back. Under normal circumstances, the trails are often crowded and busy. At least I can expect to meet other people on the way, not this day, not this hike. It was my first time hiking in the dark and the trail was completely void of all activity. There were no posted hours in the reserve, just that travelers respect the wildlife, and don't touch anything outside what is strictly necessary on the trail. The walk to the pond is only two miles,

so I was expecting to take my time in the dark and get there around 6 a.m. so I could watch the sun come up. Notes, these are approximate hours. I can't remember the exact hours of the sunrise that day. About a mile in, I heard a strange noise from the trees. It was a low, guttural sound like a distant boat revving his engine. At first, I thought it had to be an airplane from the nearby airport. However, the sound got louder,

and significantly closer, and I realized that it was no plane. Two pinpricks of light were visible in the trees. I couldn't see what it was, but something big was stalking me. I don't know if you've ever been in a life or death situation. I'd had been in one before, but it was nothing like this. The last time I faced death in circumstances that were under my control. I'd put myself in a position where death was possible. I'd been S-word and almost acted on it, but I didn't. I took control of my situation, and got help. This time it was out of my control. Primal, instinctual fear washed over me like a cold bath. My legs felt like jelly. I wanted to run, but I couldn't move. Thankfully, I didn't. My boss at the time was a man who hiked often, even solo hikes. He'd crossed several big predators from bobcats to coyotes,

to bears, into moose. He knew better than almost anyone how to face big animals that could easily take your life. He told me what to do if I ever faced any one of those creatures and run. running was not in the protocol. Instead, I squared my shoulders, faced the eyes that were still watching me, made myself as tall as possible, and screamed loudly. Later on, I'd remember that I actually had a whistle in my camera bag just for the situation, but in the moment, I didn't think about the whistle. I screeched as loud as my voice would let me go. Go away. In college, I learned how to do scream-o music, and I put that practice to use here. The response was an equally loud and vicious scream back. It sounded like a woman being chopped up. The creature took a step towards me. I still didn't

know what it was, but I had a feeling that it was a bobcat. I screamed back. I stood at this spot sharing a screaming match with the creature for a good five minutes before it finally left. I debated what my next move ought to be. Should I turn back? Should I plunge on? I was halfway between the stop and the start of the trail. If I went forward, I may potentially have encountered this creature again, but if I went back, I'd also have potentially encountered this creature, but I also would miss the birds. I decided to go on. When I got to the dock, I set my camera up and got several beautiful shots at the sunrise. Unfortunately, the loons did not want to hang that morning, so I didn't see them, but I did see several beautiful ducks and geese, plus some songbirds. While I was snapping

photos using my telescopic lens, I heard a chilling sound, howls, and not too far away, coyotes who were nearby. I finished up my pictures and packed my bags. On the return trip, trail goers were starting to arrive, some with their own dogs in tow. I didn't encounter any other animals. However, I found out for my neighbor, who works at the Forest Service, that only the day before my adventure, he'd released a mama bobcat and her kitten to the reserve where I was hiking. I thought it was maybe a little irresponsible of them to release the creature where a lot of people go, but he told me that the bobcat was scared of people and would run away when encountering a human. The only reason it stood up to me was because I was the only one there. Creepy stuff anyways, thanks for

sharing if you do and enjoy your night. Tala. P.S. enjoy these pictures for my hike. And those pictures are beautiful. And thank you so much for your story. I'm glad you're still with this. And I'm glad that Bobcat didn't decide to do anything, you know, extreme. But thank you so much for the story. And now it's the next one. Hello, Snook. This thing happened to me about seven years ago. And forgive my language. I'm not a native English speaker. First, the contact. This happened in a very rural Finland. No neighbors within 10 kilometers in every direction type rural. In the forest around, it's extremely thick. It was summer of vacation and we were going to my grandpops. He is divorced and lives alone in a rural area, as I already said.

The time it takes to go there is six hours, and being the moody teenager back then, I was not looking forward to the two weeks with no internet and the drive itself. During the first day, it was pretty normal. The second and third day passed, and I was extremely bored, so on. The fourth day, I decided to go for a walk. I decided to go for a forest walk as I have a map mind and have never gotten lost. In the third hour of my walk, I started seeing bones. This did not freak me out since it was in the middle of the forest where bears roam around.

I was completely calm until I saw a baby moose hanging by its feet on a tree, with its intestines completely ripped out, nowhere to be seen. I had a full-on panic attack and started running home. I was full of adrenaline, and I thought I heard someone running behind me. Don't know if it was a hallucination or just me hearing things wrong. Finally, after two and a half hours, I got home. It was already dark, so I was more than glad to be home. The next day after my parents went for a walk, I asked my grandpa about the moose.

Like, had he ever seen something similar? And he got real quiet and told me this. Apparently, he had found a similar moose in the same state, but instead of being scared, he decided to find out what did it. He proceeded to lay on the ground for one hour until he saw the thing. He told me it looked like a bear, but with a human face. He got scared shitless and started running for his life. He then showed me a big-ass scar on his rib and told me he barely survived. Old man thinks he should have died due to the amount of he bled.

He didn't want to tell me exactly what happened, but said it was a miracle. Now, after seven years and him being gone, I still never go to that forest. Rest easy, grandpops, and thanks for taking the time to read this. And if this makes it to the video, remind her to ask about your grandparents' lives. They are truly full of wisdom and sometimes scary happenings. The cursed dairy farm. Hey, Snook, first I wanted to say thank you for your great content. I've been watching your videos for two months now, and I love them.

There's nothing better than listening to your videos while working on the dairy farm. Berry Farm, early in the morning or late at night. Keep going and I hope you read 500K on YouTube soon. Thank you so much for those kind of words and I know. I really hope I reach 500K soon. So all of you watching, if you're not subscribed, make sure you subscribe right now so we can get closer to that goal sooner. And now to her story. If you want to give me credits, just use my real name, Lenox. Sorry, English is not my first language. I'm from Germany. So I try my best to write it as good as possible. This creepy thing happened last summer to me and my best friend Marie during the holidays. We had planned a bike tour to my grandparents who lived in the former

GDR, German Democratic Republic. That was the half of the Germany that after World War II fell into the hands of the Soviet Union and became a communist regime until Germany reunited in 1989. That is important for the story because today, East Germany, at least in the countryside, is pretty run down. The infrastructure is much worse and older compared to the rest of Germany, which gives the whole region a eerie feeling. Many old hands. houses from the 70s and 80s are abandoned or in very bad condition. There are huge fields and deep, dark forests as far as the eye can see. And except for some villages, you can barely see people outside on the streets. Maurice and me didn't mind, because it was still bright outside and a beautiful

day. After about an hour, we crossed the border. And after another hour, we arrived, exhausted and with a bad sunburn. At my grandparents' house. We planned to eat something and then set up a tent in the field behind the house because we wanted to stay overnight and have a few drinks to not disturb my grandparents at night. We decided against sleeping in the house and moved to the field instead. For context, my grandparents live in a village with maybe 40 people, deep in East Germany. The next big city is at least three hours away and there isn't even a police station in the district, which always scared me a bit. Back in the 70s, my grandparents owned a big dairy farm, which was very modern for the time. But after Germany's reunification in 1989, they had to be a very important. They had to

to sell the farm to a big company because there were no buyers for their milk anymore. The western part of Germany had cheaper and better alternatives. Since the sale, the farm has only gone downhill. Many of my grandparents' old employees lost their jobs because the new owner simply had no use for them. The farm became outdated and neglected, and the cows suffered too. With two few workers, they weren't taken care of properly. You could see it in the animals.

Many were skinny, sick, or barely gave any milk. My grandma always told me the same story, over and over again. When I was a kid and later a teenager, a story that everyone in the tiny town knew. The second co-owner of the dairy farm, we call him Oscar for the story, helped my grandparents build the farm from nothing in 1970, but unlike them, he didn't want to sell a share. He was too proud of his life's work, even though he was offered a lot of money, about 500,000 marks, German money at the time,

which today would be more than 1.2 million euros. The buyer started coming to his house every day, making him more and more desperate. He began drinking heavily, and one evening he said to my grandma, let's just call her Holly for the story. Holly, I'm sorry, but I can't do it anymore. I won't sell, but don't worry. Tomorrow morning, you will see me. You will see how free I am.

My grandma was very worried. The next day at 4.30 a.m., she woke up to milk the cows for the first time that day. The moment she stepped into the barn, she felt it. Something was off. It was the middle of summer, but it was raining like crazy. The whole atmosphere was heavy, she said, like a cold shiver running down her spine. She turned on the lights in the milking area, and there he was. Oscar had aged himself.

My grandma was in shock. She couldn't believe he really did it. His body was already stiff, frozen in death, but his arm was pointing at the concrete wall. where he had scratched something into the stone. In big letters, it said, I am free. Since his death, that part of the barn was closed off. No one used it anymore. My grandma and some of her old colleagues swore that

when they passed the barn early in the morning. They could hear quiet cries for help. They all said the same thing. It sounded just like Oscar. As a kid, I had nightmares about it. The whole village knew the story. But now, back to last summer, Maurice and I had a speaker,

enough beer and a bit of corn, hard German liquor. And we rode our bikes to a lake outside the village, maybe one or two miles away. The creepy part? The old dairy farm was between the village and the lake. My grandparents always told me that ever since Osir's death and the farm's takeover, something wasn't right there. The cows kept getting sick. The food rotted too fast, and there were way too many miscarriages.

The cows were aggressive, really aggressive, which is weird because I work with cows too when they're normally peaceful animals. At the lake, we had a great time drinking and laughing. When I told Maurice the story about Oscar, it was already dark, and for the summer, it was pretty cold. A storm was coming, so we decided to go back. Of course, after just five minutes of biking, it started pouring rain. And let me tell you, biking drunk in the dark in the rain is a shitty combination. Then we reached the old dairy farm.

By now it was thundering too. Maurice and me, we always loved exploring abandoned places at night, old factories, houses, forest, and we looked at each other. I felt this terrible feeling on my stomach, but at the same time, we had to see it. The barn, the one from the story. It was silent, too silent, no lights anywhere. The only thing we saw and heard was the rain hitting the ground. We climbed over the gate. The smell hit us first.

I work with cows. I know what a farm should smell like that, but this, this was rot, like the animals weren't taken care of at all. When we opened the first barn, I will never forget what I saw. The cows so sick. skinny, covered in wounds, standing ankle-deep in their own filth, and the worst part, they were completely silent, just standing there, lifeless. Except for one. One cow was pacing back and forth, slamming itself against the metal gate. Maurice wanted to leave, but I needed to see

the room. We found the barn where Oscar died. The moment we stepped inside, my whole body screamed at me to leave. And then we saw it. The rope. The words on the wall. I felt, I threw up, maybe from the beer, maybe from the fear. Then lightning struck. The whole room lit up, and for just one second we saw him. A shadow hanging from the rope, his arm reaching towards the wall. We screamed. We ran.

The cows started screaming too. Not mooing. Screaming. I don't remember jumping the gate. I just remember getting on the bike and riding as fast as I could. Even at my grandparents' house, we still heard the cows. Marie swears it was the alcohol, but I know what I saw, and I still hear the screams in my dreams. Hi, Snook, I'm unsure if this experience of mine will reach you, but nonetheless, I would love to share it with you.

Before we start, I would like to say that I love your videos and the way you narrate things. It just gives me such a thrill and hooks me to the stories. I'm an interior design student, so I have to do a lot of work. Hence, listening to your stories helps a lot to keep me engaged as well as entertained. Thank you and keep up the good work. Now, I'm originally from Nepal, age 20, but this creepy incident took place when I was just six or seven years old in Norway, where my father was completing his PhD at the time. He was often away, deeply absorbed in his work and studies, which meant that it was usually just my mother, my sister, and me at home. We lived in an old house owned by an kind elderly couple who lived on the floor below us with their dog, but there was something off about that house that,

that always gave me a sense of unease. The couple's sun lived above them on the top floor. It was as though his experience was a mere shadow. He rarely came out of his room, and when he did, it was fleeting, almost as if he were a ghost. The upper floor felt different, too. It was cold, even when the lights were on. The atmosphere remained thick and oppressive

like it was always shrouded in just darkness. I was a child, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something not quite right about that floor. I'd find myself running down the stairs to escape its heavy, eerie presence. One evening when my father was staying at my friend's house, my mother's sister and I were home alone. The elderly couple had gone on a week-long trip to Europe and asked us to look after the house in their absence. That night, after dinner, we were gathered in the kitchen when we suddenly heard noises coming from downstairs. At first we thought it was just the sun, maybe doing something

in his room, but the sounds grew louder, far too loud. It was as though someone was dragging heavy furniture across the wooden floors. The sound was unmistead. The screeching of furniture scraping against timber, a noise that echoed throughout the house. The old houses in the countryside were built with timber and the floors creaked with every movement. But this wasn't just a creek. This was deliberate like someone who was moving furniture, dragging it from one side of the room to the other. We all exchanged glances, confused, but didn't think too much of it. After all, it was his house. He could do whatever he wanted, even if it did sound strange.

The noise continued, growing louder, until suddenly there was a bang. The door to the sun's room slammed shut, and the house fell into an eerie silence for a moment. But then, the strangest thing happened. We heard the sound of a wood-cutting machine. Now, imagine it, 10 o'clock at night, in a house that was supposed to be empty, in the unmistakable noise of a saw cutting through wood echoed through the halls. It was as if someone was in there, in the dead of night, chopping wood as if it was some routine task.

My mother, sister, and I stood frozen, and unsure of what to make of it. It was unsettling, but we all brushed it off. as the son's doing. It was his space after all, and who were we to judge what he was doing in the middle of the night? When the elderly couple returned, we went downstairs to greet them, expecting to hear about their trip, but when we saw their son with them, we were taking it back. He was back. However, there was something we didn't know. He hadn't been at the house at all that week. He had been away, spending time with friends. He hadn't even returned home before his parents had left for the trip. So who had been in that house, making those noises? Who had been? Who had been?

have been dragging furniture, slamming doors, and operating a wood-cutting machine in the dead of night. My mother-sister and I were left in a state of confusion and fear. To this day, we have no answers. We still wonder what it was we heard. Was it someone who had broken into the house, or was it something far more sinister, a spirit, perhaps, lingering in the shadows, making its presence known to us? The house held more secrets to. Over the years, we encountered more strange, unexplainable things within those walls, but that night, those strange haunting sounds remain the most vivid, and the mystery still lingers. I can't help but feel that something unseen was there watching us. If you're curious to hear more, I'd be glad to share. Love your videos,

and thanks for reading my experience. Stay happy, stay healthy. And that is really creepy. I did not expect that at all. Expect the older, or the guy to be just some weirdo. I was doing something in the middle of the night, but he wasn't there? That's really, really weird. I would love to hear more experiences of years if you feel comfortable sharing. So make sure to just hit back the email and you can see another one of your stories in a future video because, yeah, that's really, really interesting. I'd love to hear more about that. Hey, Snoke, big fan of the channel. Love listening to your videos while working. Keep it up. Wish you all the best. I work at a three-story interstate hotel. Nothing fancy, but a nice place to stop at when driving long distance.

The next closest city is roughly 35 minutes away. When I say, the hotel is in the middle of nowhere, I really mean it. I'm a full-time housekeeper at this hotel. On this day, I'm on the second floor and leave the room I'm claiming to grab towels from my cars in the hallway when I see it. On the room at the end of the hall, there is a woman staring at me. I only see half of her face peeking at me from the door. She's smiling and blankly staring towards me. I make eye contact with her for a second or two and go back to my room. I brush it off as a weird guest, after all. It is in an interstate hotel, and we do get tweakers and odd people often. Something just didn't feel right about this person. I messaged my manager. Hey, is there a guest

in room 239? I watch as the message goes from delivered to red. She responds with, no. Last guest checked out at 11 a.m. Is everything all right? I proceeded to tell her everything I saw. About 10 minutes later. Front desk staff arrive on the second floor and say we should go check it out. I'm obviously nervous, but as the only guy housekeeper here, I decided to act brave and walk with her to the room down the hall. Knock, knock, knock, knock. Housekeeping. No answer. Knock again. Still nothing. I use my key to unlock the door. It opens about an inch. Through the crack in the door, I can see that the security latches on. Someone needs to be in the room to put it on the door. I yell again. Housekeeping. Hello? still no answer.

The lady from the front desk tells me to stay at the door while she goes downstairs and gets a magnetic rod to open the security latch. When we finally get the door open, all of the lights are off. The heater is on, but the room is cold. And the only thing we hear is the shower running. We stare at each other. Then go to the bathroom door. Open it in it slowly. All the lights are off, but the shower is on.

On full heat. I turn off the shower and inspect the room. It's empty. I don't know what I saw, but it wasn't a person. This isn't the first unexplainable thing that's happened at this hotel. The paper shredder in my manager's office will sometimes go off, even though she isn't there. Mounted photos in the rooms have fallen off the wall, and the automatic glass doors in the front will sometimes open with nothing triggering it.

This experience is different. I actually saw something. I've talked to my coworkers, and they've said they've experienced odd behavior, but never physically seen anything. I don't know why this thing that haunts my hotel decided to show its face to me, but I think about it often and am debating, finding another job. Hey, Snoke, I love listening to your true stories during my 12-hour shifts. Makes the day go by quicker, so I figured I'd submit my own. Thanks for all you do.

My roommate and I love going on mountain drives. I've lived in my college town my whole life and I'd gone on this mountain road hundreds of times as a kid. So when college rolled around during any life event or just to get away, she and I will get coffee and go drive on a regular 30-minute route and just talk or debrief. Now, it's been so long, I can't even remember what initiated this drive, but one day, freshman year, we headed out at around 8 p.m., getting in my car and starting our route, minus the coffee. The first 15 minutes of the drive was unremarkable. I'm assuming we talked about our friend group or what was going on with our romantic interests when nearing where the mountain began to slip down. Bright headlights appeared behind us.

We didn't think anything of it as we had seen multiple cars in the parking lots on our drive and lots of people took this route as a more scenic option during the day. Continuing our conversation, I looked back to the road before my roommate stopped mid-sentence to say, wow, they're really coming by quick. At this rate, I looked at my rearview mirror again and saw that she was right. they were coming fast. I got annoyed and within seconds they were right behind my car, almost hitting it in the process. Keeping my eyes on the headlights, I continued to drive, assuming they would pass by me as clearly they had somewhere they needed to be. And there was no oncoming traffic. But

after about five minutes of this car riding my tail so close I couldn't see their headlights, they start flashing their high beams into my car and decelerating, then accelerating to get even closer. At this point, I was pissed. I was going the speed limit and no other cars were heading to our way in the lane next to us. It was just this car and mine in the middle of nowhere. Assuming it to be a teenager or someone trying to be an ass, I asked my roommate if she could see who's driving, to which she said she thought it was just one guy. I slowed down as a result to about five under to try to get him to pass to this point. We're on a flatter road right next to the base of the mountains. However, in response to my slowed speed, the person speeds by my car

nearly clipping it. My roommate and I uttered an asshole and continued. the drive which had been interrupted by this douche. Considering we were at the base of the mountain, we had about 10 minutes until we're out of a more rural area and back into the outskirts of our college town. As we cross one of the bends of a slightly wooded area, we see his car pulled off to the side of the road. Headlight's still on. I continued driving past him when within seconds of us passing, he pulls out behind us and begins doing the same things he had been doing before, flashing his lights, accelerating and decelerating and almost hitting my car. At this point, both me and my roommate were more scared than mad.

I have a pretty recognizable car as I have a lot of anime stickers and sains posted on it, so he had to have known it was us. Before I could give the thought any more time to process, he sped off in front of us, almost hitting my car again and causing me to swerve sharply. I was livid but felt slightly relieved as I continued to watch him drive up ahead of us and fully take a left turn onto a more rural road that leads out of town, so as to avoid him, I took a shortcut to the right,

about 700 feet before his turn, that wrapped back into our town. After about five more minutes without incident, we started talking once more when I had to take a right to get back onto one of the main roads that leads into our town. I vividly remember looking both ways and seeing no headlights coming from the left before making my turn when within 30 seconds the same car is behind us again doing the same thing, meaning he had to have gone out of his way to get back onto this route into our town and turned off his headlights so we couldn't see him to the left of us. At this point, we were both extremely nervous, not only because of him trying to drive us off the road, but also due to the fact that my roommate pointed out that it was now three

men, not one, in the car, and we were two 19-year-old girls. I then tell her I'm going to drive to a police station, so I don't want them to know where we live, to which she graced to. When a truck pulls out from one of the farmhouses, thinking it was another one of their vehicles, we kept our guard up, only to notice they'd begun slowly decelerated and turn his brights fully off. which was enough to calm us down until we got back into the outskirts of our town. I kept my eyes and in the headlights, which at this point were following behind us at a normal distance and watched as he pulled off into a random neighborhood as the truck was still behind him, making our final turn back into town.

I watched as the truck continuing forwards and no headlights were behind us once more as both of us took a breath. To this day, we no longer live in the dorms and still take our mountain drives, but safe to say, we never. go at night. I was around 11 or 12, living in a deeply religious household where every little rule seemed etched in stone. I was the youngest and definitely the most spoiled. So having my own phone, an old iPhone 4 or 5 was a big deal. One night, around 1.30 a.m., I received a text from an unknown number. It was a list of religious guidelines, formatted with bullet points. I don't remember every word, but one line chilled me to the core.

Do not look into mirrors at night with focus. The wording was strangely specific. Our religion is ancient, so I figured it meant not to stare too long at our reflections in the dark. Still, the emphasis on mirrors unsettled me. I shrugged it off and drifted back to sleep. The next day felt normal, except the text was gone. I searched every message on my phone, but it had vanished, as if it had never been sent at all.

Yet that single warning about mirrors took root of my mind. Night after night, I began avoiding them. I'd rushed through the bathroom, washing my hands so fast that I never dared glance upward, and even the thought of walking past that many mirrors in our home after dark sent shivers down my spine. A week later, alone at home one night around 10 p.m., my family had gone out, leaving me behind to finish some homework. I decided to confront my fear.

Fueled by a reckless mix of defiance and curiosity, I resolved to prove that the warning was nothing more than an eerie method. I approached one of the sinks outside the bathroom, stealing myself and stared into the mirror. I leaned in close, my face nearly pressed against the cold glass and fixed my eyes on my own people, determined to defy the fear that had haunted me for days. Unless in a second, a wave of dizziness crashed over me, like the disoriented rush you feel when you stand up too fast. I stumbled back, my heart pounding when I dared to look back into the mirror. My blood ran cold. There, standing next to my reflection was a girl, not just any girl, but a tall, spectral figure with skin

the color of cracked stone. Her hair hung in disarray, partially obscuring a face where eyes should have been. Instead, there was only an endless void, a gaping emptiness that seemed to suck the light from the world. For too long, heart-stopping seconds. We just stared at each other. Then, as if the moment had never happened, I looked to the side, only to find nothing there. I'm not really good at storytelling. I'm sorry for any inconsistencies as this was around 15 or so years ago. I was young and sheltered. Now that I'm older, I have read countless stories of cryptids and other creatures.

And to this day, I believe that there were no creature of nature. It's kind of short. Please email back with any questions if you do decide to. Feel free to paraphrase or anything for clarity. If you want to credit, my name is Rusty. Well, thank you, Rusty for the story. I never really thought much about Desert Survif. I mean, I lived in Utah.

I've seen the dry, cracked earth, and the endless stretches of red rock plenty of times, but seeing something and surviving it are two very different things. It started on a school trip, some big geology things like erosion and ancient riverbeds, how the land used to be underwater millions of years ago. I wasn't paying attention. I never did. The bus smelled like body odor and mold, and all I wanted was to get back home. We stopped at some canyons, one of those places.

they slap a plaque on and call historic. The guide was rambling about the formations, pointing at different layers in the rock. Everyone else was either pretending to listen or taking pictures, and this is the first time I saw one of them. At first I thought it was a coyote. It was standing up on the ridge, just past the group watching us, thin and scraggly, like it hadn't eaten in weeks. But there was something off about it. Its legs were too long, its back was arched weirdly, as if it was stuck midstep. I couldn't see its face, just the way its ribs pushed against its skin when it took a breath.

I stepped away from the group just a little, squinting up at it. It turned its head towards me, and for a split second, I swore its eyes were wrong, too round, too dark. But before I could focus, it moved quickly, silent, and disappeared behind the rocks. I don't know why I followed it. Maybe I was bored, maybe I just wanted to get a better look. Either way, I climbed up the ridge, past the little safety markers of the guides had set up. I kept thinking I'd just go a few feet, just far enough to see where it went, but by the time I looked back, my class was gone. At first I wasn't worried. I figured I'd just retrace my steps, but the thing about the desert is that everything looks the same. One red rock blends into the next. The ground stretches endlessly in every direction, and the sun, the sun makes you feel like the earth is swollen you whole.

I walked for around an hour, then another and another. My throat got drier, and my head started pounding. My water bottle was still on the bus. All I had was a couple of granola bars in my backpack. Thought it wouldn't matter. It did. The first night, I found a small rock formation to sleep under. It barely got blocked by the wind, but it was something. I ate half a granola bar, tried to ignore how dry my tongue felt and forced myself to sleep. Day two was worse. The sun felt like it was pressing down on me, burning my skin raw. My lips cracked, my head felt foggy like my brain was trying to shut itself off to save energy. I tried to stay in the shade as much as possible, but there wasn't much of it. The desert stretched on forever, and that's when I saw it again.

Not the same one, at least. I don't think so, just to shape, standing near a cluster of rocks in the distance. At first, I thought it was a person, maybe a ranger or a hiker, but as I got closer, it crouched, then moved behind the stones, fast, too fast. I called out, but no one answered. That night I started hearing things, scraping sounds like claws on rock, breathing, slow and rattling, just out of sight. Every time I turned, there was nothing, just the wind, just my own mind playing tricks on me. At least that's what I told myself. On the third day, or so I think, I started seeing them everywhere, not just shapes in the distance figures, tall and thin, standing against the rock formations like they belonged there. Their limbs were too long, their backs arched, heads tilted like they were listening.

I'd see them for just a second before they'd move, disappearing behind boulders and slipping into cracks in the canyon walls. They never got close. I ran. I didn't know where I was going, just that I didn't need to move. My legs felt weak. My vision blurred. Every step felt heavier than the last.

The heat pressed against me like a weight, and my breath came in short gasps. Then I saw it. It turned a corner, and one of them was just standing there, right beside a side. tall, thin rock, its body blending into the shadow. It was close enough that I could hear it breathing, raspy and uneven. It tilted its head towards me and that was enough. My lungs hurt, but I still ran, ran as fast as I ever have and probably faster than I ever will. I don't remember much after that, just the feeling of the ground under my feet, the pounding of my poles and my ears. I tripped, fell, got up, kept running. My body felt like it was shutting down, but I didn't stop.

Then there were lights, a highway I didn't know how I got there, but suddenly the asphalt was under my hands burning hot. I saw a car swerve, someone shouting, and then nothing. I woke up a day later in a hospital. My throat felt like sandpaper. My skin was burnt and peeling, and my whole body ached. For a few minutes, I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had happened.

The last thing I remember was running. The highway. The lights. in them. Dear Snoke, congratulations on a very good channel. I've been listening to your videos to go to sleep almost every night after I found your channel. Keep up the good work.

My story doesn't really involve any ghosts, cryptids, or demons, but I really believe it is something paranormal. And I'm also curious to know if this happens to anyone else in the world. The story might be a bit elongated, but I'm really like to paint a vivid picture here. This is a story about stairs.

Ever since I was 10, I've lived in a tall apartment building. Like 5 to 10 stories. Also, most pre- or early 2000s apartment buildings in my country don't have elevators. So yeah, you always have to huff it. The first time this happened, we are living on the fifth floor in an apartment with six stories, then rooftop access. I think I was in the 7th or 8th grade. I was coming back from afternoon playtime in the neighborhood. I'd stayed out for quite a while after sundown, so it was very dimly lit outside. And I think even the electricity was out because of the load shedding, a very normal thing in my city. So I was climbing the stairs in the dim light

that was coming through the staircase shutters. The building had two units per floor. All had the same wooden doors, no nameplates, maybe just different door mats. One of the ways I used to keep track of how many flights I've climbed is on the fourth floor between the two doors somebody had written with a crayon fourth floor. So logically, after seeing that, I should climb two more staircases and reach the fifth floor. My home, right? Wrong. While on the first stat of stairs, it felt off under my feet. As it was barely lit, I was looking at my feet going up. So after the first set of stairs on the in-between landing, I looked up to expect the two doors to the fifth floor, ours directly in front and the neighbors next to it. Wrong again. I was standing on the landing

that led to the rooftop access. I'd somehow skipped two floors. I was creeped out, partially because my neighborhood friends used to say the building was loki haunted during a few construction workers had died there during construction and partially because there were no doors at the rooftop access, just a small concrete shed with two doors leading to the roof. It looked normal during the day, but at night it always gave me the creeps. Anyways, I stood there for like a minute in shock. Then I quickly went down to my floor and tried to rationalize it as to me just being tired and absent-minded and somehow climbing two floors in a haze, even though I had been going up slowly because of the darkness. The same thing habit a few more times in the same building, sometimes second floor to fourth floor or third floor to fifth floor.

And keep in mind, after the first time, I have always kept conscious track of how many flights or floors them up. I still didn't tell anyone about this as it just sounded plain stupid. We moved to another building in the neighborhood a couple years later for a bigger apartment. Again, fifth floor on a single unit five-story apartment, so we are at the top floor. This also happened in this building. Sometimes second floor to fourth floor, sometimes third floor to rooftop access, always the skipping of two floors. Eventually, we moved into apartments with elevators, so I wasn't climbing so many stairs. Fast forward to the present day.

I'm a 29-year-old guy now living in Germany. My apartment is in a pretty old, built early 1900s, three-story apartment building, and I have lived in one of the Dosh,zgas, which is the attic or apartment, top floor, no rooftop access for the past three years. Guess what? This thing still happens now from time to time. I've returned home late, high, drunk, sober in many different states, but I always keep track of how many flights I'm going up on which floor I'm on. But even here sometimes, I skip from the first floor to the third floor. I have no explanation for this. I've only shared this experience with my older sister, a close friend, and now you guys. All of them shrugged it off as just my absent-mindedness. What do you think? Has this ever happened to any of you? Regards. Hey, Snook, let me begin by telling you, I love your videos, and it helps me go to sleep. I especially loved your 4chan stories. The Faye Rock People is my favorite.

So to begin, this is not my story for the most part, but I also experienced it. This all happened to my aunt and my maternal grandmother. A bit of context to begin with. It's around 2012. My aunt just got divorced and she had the baby alone. She had a job in a different city, two hours drive from the city where a majority of our family lives, including me. In between all of this, she also had an accident and broke her leg, a single woman in a city with no immediate support with a newborn baby. My grandmother decided to move in with her to help her take care of the baby and help her in this difficult time.

They rented an apartment in the city. After a while, things began to fall to normalcy. Everything was going fine. When my other aunt, let's call her Aunt B, was going through some trouble, career-related, so she asked to move in with my aunt in the same day. She had two rooms that she didn't use, so she accepted her family. Aunt B also had a baby around the same time, so her mother-in-law, her husband and her baby, all moved in with my aunt. Aunt B's mother-in-law was a weird woman.

She read a book called Bible, but I've read the Bible before, and it didn't look like one. If she had an argument with someone regarding anything, she took passive, aggressive revenge. Like one time when she was confronted, she left the stone turned on. Yes, she sounds like a psycho. Once she had an argument with Anzi B and she lit some appliances in the kitchen ablaze, no one saw her, but no one else was in there to do it, just her. She got the senile old woman pass. She did a lot more than that, all in varying degree of severity,

as you can see a bundle of calamity in a shape of a hag. We also theorized that she dabbled into black magic. She did really weird rituals. She woke up early before sunrise in the morning, untie her hairs and starts chanting and shaking her head violently. My uncle saw her once. once and just covered his head and pretended as if he was asleep. I have not heard any Christian rituals as such yet, but she was always accompanied by a pungent smell like vegetable oil

left to go ranted for months. Her son, Auntie B's husband, didn't listen to any accusations regarding his mother. He loved her and didn't believe she could do anything wrong. After a lot of incidents, my aunt asked them to move out. She couldn't put the safety of her baby on the line. They moved out after a few weeks. This is where... when shit hit the fan. To give you a brief description of the apartment, which will be important later, when you enter from the main door, you reach the living room. The living room has a balcony on the left as you enter. The living room has a wide passage, which has a window on the right. On the left is a bedroom, which is used as a store room, and this is where Aunt B moved in.

If you take steps forward, you reach a crossroad, which goes left to a bathroom. Right, leads you to a kitchen. A few steps in on the left, you have a second bedroom. My aunt's, baby and grandmother all slept here. It also had a balcony. And in front of you will be the third bedroom. It had a bathroom in it on the right. It was the bathroom used by my auntie and grandmother because it had saved the attachments for old people. And my aunt was recovering from the fracture. So, one stormy night, a month after Aunt B. left, my grandmother remembered that she left the clothes out to dry earlier on the adjacent balcony and asked my aunt to bring them. in as it might rain later. As soon as she opens the door, she was hit with a putrid smell

like a carcass was riding for days somewhere near. This apartment was on the third floor, so this was highly unlikely. She felt a presence with her on the balcony like being watched. She didn't acknowledge it and picked up the clothes and went inside. She didn't say anything about it then. She felt if she talked about it, an evil entity might gain power from it, so she stayed quiet for the night. After a few days, my grandmother was sleeping on the bed at night, with the baby and my aunt when she heard a woman weeping in the apartment. She didn't get up, just ignored it for the night, thinking the walls are thin and it might be someone on a floor below or above. There is a concept shadow in our culture. It is not related to shadows. It's just a figure speech. If it's said

you have a light shadow, you're more sensitive and attuned to the supernatural. Likewise, if your shadow is heavy, you are less sensitive. My grandmother and my aunt, have light shadows, especially my grandmother. She had a lot of paranormal experiences. In a few days' time, weeping turned into wailing. It was like the woman was an intense pain in wailing like she wanted help. Everyone heard it this time. It was clearly coming from the third bedroom, where Aunt B's mother-in-law lived before they moved. It was guttural. My aunt thinking someone entered the house went to check, no one was there. Now, she came back and started again. It went on for a long time and they couldn't move due to the financial issues and had to live through it. The thing,

after a while changed its voice. Sometimes it was a man's voice and sometimes a kid's voice, wailing in the dead of the night like it wanted help. It always stopped as the sun came up. This all went on for a few months. One day my younger brother, barely six months old, started crying. He wouldn't stop crying. My grandmother is very experienced in raising children. She raised and had helped in raising every child in her family, including me. There was no reason for him to cry. She called his doctor and they couldn't tell what was wrong with him either. He cried without stopping for hours. My aunt came from homework early, held my brother in her arms, and started chanting a hymn of God in his ear. He started to struggle as is wanting to get away from

her. This happened a few minutes and then he went limp. He was asleep. This was the last straw. You would think she would move, but no, that is for quitters. My aunt is anything but. She took her baby and grandmother back to her city and let them there. She went to the apartment alone this time. She entered the apartment and started shadowing obscenities at the entity. that it was her house. She wanted it out. How dare to enter her house and tried attacking her child. And more things that I would not like to say here. This seemed to do the thing. Most of the paranormal activities stopped after this. Most, not all. This is where I come in. When I was 13 and want to spend my summer vacations in her apartment with my younger sister, so the night I got there,

I noticed a faint sound of soft chimes near the window in the passage. It was barely audible, but the same time clear. The chimes were rhythmic. mechanically so. It was constant. After dinner, I asked my aunts about it. At this point in time, I didn't know about the past happenings of this apartment. My aunt and grandmother shared a knowing look and told me it was from the woman upstairs. She wears anklets. It's like a bracelet, but for your ankle. Most of them have small bells on them, so they make really light ringing sounds when they wearer walks. They also told me. She also has a young child that runs around the apartment and she chases him. So that was a reason for the ringing. I didn't buy that explanation. It was constant.

How can someone walk for hours constantly on end? How can it be so rhythmic without missing a beat? My sister, who came with me, started crying that night. She felt heavy and wasn't able to breathe. To be honest, with the passing of the day, the apartment felt heavier. She was comforted that night and the next day she went home. The ringing continued every day from the sunset to the morning. They tried to feed me another lie that might be a bug like a cricket, but I was still not. convinced. So they finally told me that stuff happens around this apartment. I didn't dare go into the room after sunset. The ringing continued for the entire duration of time I was there. Every night like clockwork, the soft ethereal ringing. There is one more incident that happened there. My uncle's and

elder sister stayed there when my aunts and grandmother were not there. They also didn't know about the history of the apartment. They were watching TV in the living room. It was late at night. Both of them were pretty invested into whatever they were watching. From the corner of my eye, my sister, to watch as a shadow figure walked from the kitchen to the bathroom in front of it. She was mortified to say the least. She didn't say anything and suggest my uncle to stay in the living from the rest of the night. He didn't argue. The night went uneventful.

In the morning, my sister casually asked my uncle if he saw something in the passage last night. He replied that he saw someone walking from the kitchen to the bathroom. Around the same time, she said the figure from the corner of his eye. They didn't talk any further about it and left the apartment that day. That's all. it's a really long story and I have more stories about our family and its encounters with the paranormal. It happens with an annoying frequency to be honest. If you want to hear it, let me know. Keep doing good work, and I love your videos. And thank you so much for that story. And I'd love

some more stories from you if you want to submit them. This was a great story. I'm sure people enjoy it. Comment down below what you thought about this one. What do you think about their paranormal apartment? That's really creepy. And hopefully everything stays all right and it's kind of stopped now. and you stay safe. And all right, guys, that wraps up some unsettling true scary stories. You guys have liked this series, and I've enjoyed recording it. I really enjoy seeing your guys' stories come in from the email. It's super cool to see you guys, and I really appreciate the kind of words at the beginning

of every single email. It's really, really cool to see you guys coming stuff like that. I appreciate it so much. You guys are the best. Thank you so much for watching at the end of the video. And if you made it this far, please like and subscribe to the channel. Help us out a ton. This is Snook, and I'll see you next time.

Bye.