Snook - Weird 4Chan Stories

Episode Date: May 19, 2025

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Hey, what's up guys, and welcome back to another 4chan stories video, and today we're going to be getting into some weird 4chan stories. You guys have been asking for a lot more 4chan stories video, so I'm going to keep reading these stories for you. I love reading them. You guys seem to love listening, so perfect match. And you guys are the best. Thank you so much for stopping by. Sit back, relax, grab a snack, or just chill and listen to some weird 4chan stories. And please like and subscribe to the channel. The channel's goal is 500,000 subscribers, so please subscribe to the channel. Helps more than you ever know. And yeah, all right, enough you happen. Let's get into some weird 4chan stories. All right, X, I've got a weird story to tell you guys.

I don't come to the sport often at all, but it seems like the right place. Serving time in prison for street racing. Yeah, I know it's stupid, but I did it once after getting pressured by my friend, got caught immediately. Two months in, get a new cellmate. Nice enough guy, but scared of everything, mummled to himself. Get to know him, turns out he's a paranoid schizophrenic. Wakes up screaming some nights, tells me about his delusions, he knows he's effed up. Except them, man. I know they're not delusions. I'm not crazy. I see those eyes every time I close my eyes. I'm never going to unsee that red light. He starts rambling about how they come for him at night, and he got himself in prison to stay safe. Won't tell me what he

did to get locked up, though. Dodgers the question every time. Fast forward a month. We become friends, and he opens up a little. Tells me how he. He tells me how he he used to never sleep because that's when shit would go down. When he'd start to do his off, his body would start to feel really heavy and he'd get a vibrating sensation in his limbs, like a heavier, slower version of the way you feel when your legs fall asleep. A humming noise will start out quiet and get louder and louder, and a bright white light fills a room. And then it slowly turns blood red as the hum reaches its peak pitch, like a skull-splitting tinnitus, saying he usually blacks out after that, but not always.

Sometimes they see them, they don't want me to remember. Ask him what he means. Starts describing fucking grays in great detail. I didn't believe in aliens at the time, so I thought he was totally nuts. Short, with limbs longer in proportion to their bodies than humans, about four and a half to five, three feet tall. Gray almost see-through skin. He said it looked more like a membrane than it did human skin. massive black eyes that reflected everything like a mirror.

They smelled almost like a burning phone charger. I asked him about the smell, but he just shrugged and said it was hard to describe. That it didn't really smell like burning plastic and wire, but it was the only way he could word it, since he'd never smelled anything quite like it before. Says he's getting uncomfortable. That talking about them for too long makes him anxious so he goes to sleep. Next day we had art therapy?

Fucking stupid, right? And he gets all twitchy and start. starts drawing creepy shit. Going to continue in the next post. We start art therapy. Basically, we do it to let our feelings because it's supposed to help people be less violent or something. I don't really know. I just start doodling. I'm usually a pretty chill guy and I didn't really have anything on my mind. Danny, my cellmate, seems to enjoy these sessions for the most part, even though he's not very good. This time it's different. Super anxious, says he was up nearly all night, even though I was up late and didn't hear him make a sound. Keeps scratching his

necks obsessively, constantly chewing on his forefinger, looks on the verge of some sort of panic attack. Therapist tells him to try and draw what's upsetting him. Stairs of the paper and charcoal for like half the fucking session and then starts feverishly drawing. Fills the entire page with shades of red can barely make out anything else. Looks vaguely like a bedroom, can see a blurry doorway, what looks like a bed, maybe a dresser, it's all messy. You can see three figures near the bed, blurry except for the eyes. Huge, pitch black almond-shaped eyes. They're surrounding the bed with a statically stick figure, Danny, in it, screaming? Therapist asked him to tell him what it is, and he just mumbles about a nightmare. I'm typing this between answering phone calls from customers,

but it's a slow day, so I'm doing my best to post-fast. Ask Danny about the art later. I'm tells me it's usually what happens when he sees the grays, but his therapist tells me it's a nightmare or sleep paralysis. Nightmares don't leave marks. He turns around and shows me the base of his neck. There's a faded scar, small, perfect circle with a triangle of three dots in the middle. What the fuck? He says he's woken up after nightmares with bruises in strange places on his body, other triangles made from dots. Therapist claimed it was just him as aching in his sleep or sleepwalking. Bullshit.

It's time for lockup. Don't feel like sleeping, so I get in bed to read. On the first page of a new notebook, when suddenly Danny sits up freaking the fuck out and yelling. Dude, what? I ask him what the fuck happened. He said they came for him and took him away. Now I know he's nuts.

Tells me to look at the time. There's a clock you can see from outside your cell. It's four hours since lockup time. I was reading the same page that I started on four hours. hours ago. There was no way I fell asleep or anything. That was one of the creepiest things that's ever happened to me. Danny said losing time is common, but they didn't see me on board. Why the fuck would I lose time too? I've got more, don't worry. This isn't the end. I get really freaked out. Don't want to believe him. Get checked out by the prison dock and psych just in case

I'm losing my shit, but they say I'm fine. Get cleared so I just passed it off as dozing off while reading and not realizing it. A couple weeks go by us normal. going to the yard, art therapy once a week, go to the library, etc. Prison starts letting inmates have chalk in their cells so they can write or draw or whatever, and it can't be used as a weapon. Danny starts drawing the faces of the dirt grays again and drawing odd-line symbols that are like dots with lines, kind of like constellations. What's the red light incident? I never really came to this board, so I've never heard of it. I just usually sick to owe.

VA got charged for multiple things. Reckless endangerment since it was drag racing and a few other things, so it added up to eight months. I think the judge just had a grudge against street racers or something. And that was my first thought too. It was similar to it, but didn't look exactly like it. The triangle was rotated. This isn't me, ignore him. This is near the end of my stay. Think it was within the last month or two. Been waking up with headaches, nosebleed some days. Not exactly strange, they can be side effects of the allergy meds I take. Looking forward to getting out. Danny still has a while to go.

Still don't know what it was for or how long. We stay up one night drinking shitty prison wine. The idiot who gave it to us fucked it up and it tasted like vinegar and pissed, but it got us fucked up. Drink till we're on the verge of passing out when suddenly Danny freaks out. Shit, fuck, fuck, do you hear that? Ain't on, please tell me you don't hear that. It's the humming noise he mentioned.

Oh, fuck. The noise gets louder and louder and a higher wine can be heard over it. And Danny is pounding on the jail cell door screaming for help. No one comes. No prisoner tells us to shut the fuck up. No guard comes to slam their baton into the bars. What the fuck is happening? A bright, pulsating white light is filling the prison, searing my eyes.

Suddenly turns blood red and everything goes dead quiet. So quiet you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. I try to hide under my bed. Can't move. It's like I'm made of lead. My body is buzzing like it's made of fucking bees. I start to panic, want to scream for help, ask Danny if he's okay, but I can't even open my mouth. Get the sudden feeling of being watched.

In the glow of the red light, I can see shadows on the wall. The shadows start moving around. Suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my head and get a mental image of myself frozen in the cell, with Danny a few feet behind me. It was like someone put a camera in the cell and I was watching. Image was gone, but I could sense something was next to me. me. Everything goes cold and the vibrating gets worse and more violent, almost if the cells of my body were being thrown around. I can almost feel myself being lifted off the ground. Close my eyes

and even though I'm not religious, I start to pray. What else am I going to do? To anything that'll listen. The red light is seared into my retinas. I'm screaming inside but nothing comes out. Suddenly I'm in a room. It's steel colored with no light source but evenly lit to the point of no shadow. The next thing I see is the eyes Danny mentioned. They were fucking horrible. Massive eyes that took up like a quarter of the face. Almond shaped and slanted like 45 degrees. It was pitch black. I could see my own terrified reflection in them. Those massive, wet, black voids reflected every inch of terror in my face. Those things didn't look remotely human. No drawing or Photoshop or mask has come close to how awful those things were.

The waxy membrane-like skin almost pulsated. Images flashed through my head. Me and Danny. The aliens. The prison. Pictures of planets, organs, stars. It gave me a massive headache. I don't know what it was trying to do.

Suddenly, I'm in the prison hospital. They found me on the floor of the prison cell with a blinding headache, lying in a pool of my room. my own vomits and blood pouring from my nose. They found Danny huddled in the corner sobbing, shit in his pants, covered in scratches and bruises. Doctors and guards questioned me. They thought we were fighting, even though no one saw or heard anything, anything at all. No one heard our screaming, the lights, the humming sound. How the fuck? Told them that we got drunk but didn't fight or anything. I had no idea what happened to Danny. They released me in time for dinner. Head still pounding

and my whole body aches, especially my neck. I V-held, but I wanted to get actual food in my body. Danny wasn't in the cafeteria. Didn't see him for another three days. Danny tells me they questioned him, asking why I attacked him. He says the wounds were s-eyed and that he had a nightmare and he clawed and hit himself in his sleep. They kept him under his observation to make sure he didn't try to age himself or something.

Neither of us want to talk about what happened that night. All he asked was, You saw them too, didn't you? I nodded. You know that they're not going to let you go now, right? Once they set their eyes on you, you're in their sight for life. Been drinking, so typing is going slower, so I make sure I don't fuck up so badly. I think I might look for the pictures he sent me.

I know I have them around here somewhere, and I think I have some letters from them too. Have you seen the images that look like the beans you saw, like exactly what you saw that night? Have you got any marks on your body now? Are you still in touch with Danny? Has it happened again since? Post the pictures and letters, Michael. Obviously creep the fuck out. Neither of us slept well for the next few weeks.

Nothing major happens until a few nights before I'm out. Mostly headaches and nosebleeds. Go to sleep, wake up in the middle of the night to the humming noise and bright red light. Please God, no. Not again, I can't take this again. The humming died down and the light faded away. I breathe a sight of relief. I realized it was probably just sleep paralysis,

used to happen to me as a kid, but I'd just seen the old hag. I fall back asleep. Wake up to the sound of guards yelling at me and slamming open the door. They tell me to get up and spread up against the wall, hands up. What the fuck is going on? Start barraging me with questions.

Where did Danny go? How did it get out? Did you help him? What? Keep telling them I didn't do anything and I know nothing. They bring me to a room to interrogate me some more. After a few hours of the same shit, they let me go. Talk to some other inmates who are in my cell block.

They didn't see anything either. A guard who was friendly told me the cameras caught nothing either. It's like Danny up and vanished. Sort of, a lot of drawings in pop culture shit capture the general gist of them. Eye, stature, head shape, etc. But seeing one in real life is more horrifying than you can imagine. Something about their presence is just wrong.

Like they don't belong. Like they shouldn't exist. kind of like in a lovecraft way, minus the going mad when you see them. Even if you don't see one, if one is around you, you'll know. You won't just have a feeling of being watched. It's like your body reacts to just being near this thing that shouldn't exist. I don't have any bruises or injection sites like Danny does. I have had bruises in the past, but nothing recently.

I still talk to Danny on occasion. I'll get to that. And yes, I have had experiences since getting out. I'll look for the letters and art for you. Danny was gone for three days. Cops put out a APB for him, thinking he escaped. On the last day, some convicts found him in the wreckyard. His foot somehow pinched him between weights that were already on a bar.

He had to go to the prison hospital for dehydration and some broken ribs, as I found out later. They never found him on any footage on any camera, so there was an investigation to see if there was a cop trying to get the inmates out. I don't know if anything ever came of that, but I know for a fact this wasn't the cops. There's no way he could vanish without a trace and then reappear, clipped through fucking metal.

I never got to see Danny again. I left the day after he came back. He wrote me a few weeks after I left, telling me the night we vanished and he saw the red lights again, and he hoped to be the last either of us did. But we both kept seeing them. I don't have it happen often, but Danny probably does. Looking for his letters now.

He had a few stories. And not really. That face is too ape-like. like, eyes too round, they had hairless faces. Eyes a little bigger than that, but like 45-degree angled almonds. Skin was lighter, too. Is O.P. looking for the letters? It's a bit closer.

That forehead is too big, but the eyes are dead on. It makes me super uncomfortable. Found one. Looking for the painting. Had to scan it because Danny was awful handwriting, but when I find the art, I'll snap a photo of it when the letter and a timestamp. O.P. Delivers. Well, post-closups for the drawing.

He's not an artist, obviously, but they creep me the fuck out. The crying stick figure is supposed to be Danny, I believe. He almost always drew them smeared out like the two of them are, but never the eyes. They were always pitched back and clear. So shit, this picture is accurate then? Yeah. Gray's. They're what fairies used to be, but got an upgrade in the nuclear age.

They're nasty bastards. In the old days, they hated. iron. I don't know if that's the case still. Eyes are too small, but otherwise it's right. Shouldn't we have been safe in jail then? Unless the bars were steel and not iron? I'm honestly not sure what they were made from. Danny will probably send another letter soon. He usually does once a month and hasn't yet. I'll make a thread soon once he does if this dies. Until then, I'll try and track down some of the other letters. Anyone have any questions? I want to believe. There's no crease slash fold in that letter. The letter looks crumbled like it was stored in some sort of

random stack of papers. This would soften at this kind of paper and get rid of existing creases, replacing them with crumples. Seems legit. O.P., are there any signs of them coming to you? Only the buzzing, the whispers, the hissing, and the red light? What have they done to you, strapped you to a bed? Can you move, fight? I'm curious as if one of the fuckers came to get me if I could at least punch one of them in the face. The only signs of the buzzing, lights and paralysis, Sometimes I hear almost a musical sound of my head. It's not really a tune or singing or someone humming. It's almost like it's the idea of music.

It's strange. Not sure if it's in my head or something I can actually hear. I honestly don't know what they've done to me. I don't have clear memories of what happens after the lights. I don't think they strap me to a bed. They seem to paralyze me. I can't move anything besides my eyes. It's horrifying.

I don't know if it's out of fear or something they do to you. I doubt you could do more to even move a finger against one. Despite the frailness of them, they radiate a kind of power that I've never felt before. I'm still unsuccessful in finding more papers. I just moved so everything is kind of a mess. It was thrown in a box when I moved and I used my scanner to upload it so it doesn't have folds. Just crumples now. It was one of the first he sent.

Any more detail on the visions that were communicated to you? Not really. It was blurry when it happened and the memory only got blurrier. I did see some stars in line and some anon mentioned the drawings may have been a star map, maybe a location. I can ask Danny if he saw anything like that and if you can draw one. If it's a map or constellation, some anon with more astronomy knowledge can identify it. Danny's letters happen to be written on exact same paper as the drawing OP made earlier of symbols. Paper which is clearly torn from a spiral notebook, which you can't have to be written on exact same paper as the drawing opie made earlier of symbols. Paper which is clearly torn from a spiral notebook, which you can't have to be written. have in prison because they make weapons out of the metal wires. Nice try, bitch. 100% LARP. Everyone doesn't own a spiral notebook. They don't make spiral notebooks that have plastic spirals. What world do you live in, bro? The paper you buy on commission areas in prison is sold in legal pads. They don't have spiral notebooks at all. Nice damage control, though. I was in prison last year in Illinois, and they had plastic spiral-bound notebooks. Every state has different contraband laws. O.P. said they're taken to group sessions where they're allowed to draw stuff out.

They may just give those places already ripped out. O.P.'s note has larger spaces between the holes and the edge of the paper, and you can see one hole of the letter between the picture. In that hole, it's closer to the edge and ripped quite well. Either that's from where, or it just designs differently. There's also no red margin line on the letter, so unless O.P. used two separate pads, then they're different. Also, not all prisons are the same. State to state, they're different. Federal to state, they're different. The paper could be from a group session again, or it could just be not from the USA. O.P. here. I'm not dead. I'm going to write a letter to Danny and hopes he hasn't sent one yet.

Are there any specific questions you guys want me to ask him? I know I won't be able to answer everything, but he can. He's dealt with this far longer than I. Do they still visit you a lot? Are you not tired of this? Have you lost your shit? I've seen a lot of UFOs in my city lately. The ships look like small orbs of light flying in the sky. What sort of images do you see in your head when they're probed or whatever you want to call it you? O.P. You were saying that happened to you, right? Do you see them as a threat in general or just curious? When did this start happening to him? Did he do anything to provoke slash catch their attention? Was fun while it lasted at least? Writing up a letter and going to send it tonight. Thanks for all your questions. Hopefully it won't take too long for response. The images happen to me.

Not sure about Danny, but I'll definitely ask. As someone else pointed out, out my prison allow spiral notebooks if they're plastic spirals. They're a little more than flimsy spring, so they can't be used as weapons. O.P., this exact thing has happened to me. From the light to the humming to the red, to the eyes, to everything. I even have some scars from it. This is freaky, and I'm scared shitless because it's stopped for me. But this threat is making me wonder if it'll happen again. Not sure, but I've read somewhere that calling out for Jesus stops those gray sea words. The thing is, all aliens are interdimensional demons. What's with paranormal activity in general in the red light?

Whether it's grays or ghosts, red light can be involved. I remember my dad told me a story once in which some spooky shit went down, and the street lights along with everything else had a red tinge to it. I'm guessing it had something to do with red being the last color we're able to see before it falls on the visible spectrum into the lower energy frequencies. Low energy beings equals malevolent slash evil entities, Red light, red chakra, base entities. How are base entities able to instill such fear and dominance over us? Aren't we higher energy beings? Does bass shake you? If it's strong enough, yeah, I like base.

Then there you go. Because we lack awareness of our true nature and connection, because we believe ourselves to be powerless. Why not use fear? It works great. I believe this to be why many join groups that would have one faces in their demons. Fear is paralyzing. If you want to move forward against the You need to be able to face it head on, right? Even that, which we fear most, is only love seen through the inverse perspective. All is all, fear less, experience more. And now I'm going to read the letter they've been talking about the entire time. Hey, Blank, hope you're doing well.

I'm sure not they're talking about sending me to the psych ward now. They think I'm crazy. If I were them, I'd think so too. But you've seen what I've seen. You know how real this shit is. You're just as scared as I am. Remember that night we saw the red light? It happened again.

I started praying to God a few weeks ago. Asked them to protect me from this evil, but instead of angel coming to deliver me, they did. I remember every single thing they did to me. They hurt me. They put me on a table. They cut me open and struck me, full of glass and copper and gloving. Tubes, scanning and probing me, organs. saw it all every little bit. I thought I was going to die, but they made sure I did not. I passed out.

I woke up with no scars or wounds. Latched all over. I don't know how much more I can take. I want to die. At least in a psych ward, I'll be hard to kay myself. As afraid of them as I am, I'm scared there is something worse on the other side. Take care, Danny. P.S. Here's one of my drawings from therapy. Keeping this scared. me, but feels wrong to throw them away. And here's a lot of the drawings. I'll just kind of yap while the pictures flip through, because I'm sure they flipped through ones, but here's a lot of the pictures again. Scary stuff. Do you believe Danny is a real person, or this OP is just making up a story for some 4chan clout? Or do you think Danny, you know, is being visited by aliens?

Same with the OP here. Seems scary. Seems convincing. But let me know what you think about it down below. And this is a good story. On to the next one. Basically, my nope is that I think there's something living slash walking around in my ex-best friend's skin. We'll tell the tale and the nopes that led up to it. July last year, me and friend both 18, decided to go camping for a week, end up not liking any of the lame paid campsites. We were doing this old way, goddammit. Illegally camp in this amazing area surrounded by paddocks and woods and etc. Far away from houses slash properties. Nearest town at least half an hour drive away. Fuck snakes and spiders. We are Australian. First few days of camping are great, though it was pretty rainy. Every night we

end up talking for hours and being hilarious. Then go to sleep in a massive swag I brought. The place is great, but for some reason we stick together. It made me uneasy to be alone and for some reason we always made sure we were living within viewing distance of one another. One night, we ended up huddled in fear. We can hear something walking around. The fucking swag. Walks around us for hours while we both nope the fuck out. Here fucked up screech from a distance.

Noise like wind going past really fast and footsteps stop. We're camped in a clearing. No wind can get through the trees like that or hasn't this whole time. My friend laughs. Ha ha. Holy fuck ain't on. That was scary as fuck. End up eventually going to sleep but wake up at noon.

The next day, I'm cooking. Oh shit, we need more firewood. Can't leave this food because it'll burn really fast. My friend volunteers, duh. First one of us has gone into the wooded area alone. Friend paused before going in. Finally, someone's some fucking courage and disappears from sight. I'm a fucking master chef.

Not wearing my watch, but it's been like an hour. I'm nearly done cooking this stuff. Assume they're taking a shit. I'll give that fucker some privacy. Fire begins to fail, so after, to ninja get some wood and finish the meal. Eventually, I realized maybe inbred fuckers have R-worded and eaten my friend. Damn it, I spent ages cooking this meal.

I'm willing to avenge at the risk of being R-worded and eaten myself. Grab big-ass knife, rifle, torch, and a bite of my delicious damper. Walk into woods yelling for a friend. Feel like something is watching me. Beginning to get scared, but not about to admit that. Come out, you fucker. It doesn't take that long to shit. See someone in woods in front of me.

Hear my mate laughing. Here screech behind me. Oh, fuck no. Sprint that shit straight towards when I saw my friend. That dude is unarmed. Be running. Loose side of friend. Call him out.

Dude, if you're dead, I will kill you. End up breaking through wooded area into a paddock. Oh, shit. I see as long moving the woods across from the paddock. Looks big, bigger than me. Considers how many bullets I have. Probably not enough. Ha ha.

Nope. Run back through woods. Get through to campsite. My friend is sitting there wearing a change of clothes. Ha ha. Holy fuck, ain't on. That was scary as fuck. See nothing wrong with it. Ha ha, stupid F word. What did you do? Cover yourself in shit? He laughs. Oh wait. Did he hear that screech? Shakes his head. I must be paranoid. We dig into some delicious food. Tell him about the huge thing I saw. He just laughs about it. I wouldn't worry about it. That night, sitting across from front in front of fire, I've decided to teach myself whittling, whittling away, cut my thumb. Friend looks at my thumb.

I stick a band-aid on that shit and continue to whittle. He's written a book and has a little lantern with him. I know what an F-word thing to do. Woods rustling and shit. Crickets chirping chirping chirping away. Friend laughs to something he's read. I think about his laugh in the woods. Realizes it's the exact same laugh as the one when the thing walked away.

around the swag. Same laugh he did just then. Same as the first he said when I found him with different clothes on bag of camp. He said the same words too. Hmm. Weird. Eventually decided to drink a bit. He's a lightweight. We both crawl into the swag giggling. I have the knife attached to my belt. I wake up once and find him staring at me. Drunk brain suddenly worried he might be going homo for a second while drunk. Talk about this girl I really like. He seems to be really aware and listening to everything I say, and suddenly it feels like my bladder is going to burst. I stagger out to this little river that goes past our campsite,

take a piss in the early morning light while in awe of the majesty of nature, see something gray sticking out of the riverbed. Pull it out. It's my friend's shirt he wore yesterday before going into the woods. It's torn up pretty bad, a little bit of blood on it. Too drunk to really put anything together. Lovenly re-burry it because my drunk brain thinks putting the cotton back to nature to decompose is a great idea. Clean hands on pants. Climb back into swag. Friend has fucking gone to the

world. I pass out and wake up a couple hours later. A friend is still asleep. Dirty hands, but then we both have dirty hands and stuff. Begin to nope about weird shit that's happening. Fire needs restarting. While pushing the coals and ashes around to add wood properly, I find a button off the pants he wore yesterday and a bit of gray cotton fabric like the stuff from a shirt. What the fuck? Today, the day we pack up and leave when friend wakes up he's being as weird as he was yesterday i'm packing he gives me a weird look i tell him to help he asks if i can go get some firewood because he's hungry i tell the bitch once we've done packing i'll hold this hand and go into the woods with him once we've packed up we both carry shit up to the car which is hidden up near the bush track to get out of here

i've checked my car every day he follows the whole way because the dumb fuck has probably forgotten where he is we load up the car i turned it on to make sure we're it's all good. I'm able to tune the radio. Pretty static-y, but there's a weather warning about storm hidden area. We'd go back to the campsite to grab the last shit. Can we go get firewood now? Friend is standing just inside edge of the woods.

I suddenly get this feeling deep in my stomach, like instinctual fear or something. I really want to get out of there. Nah, man, a weather warning. Eat some food we've got left over, and we'll buy something hot when we hit the next town. is an eight-hour drive home. While I finished picking up rubbish, he doesn't even eat anything, but the fucker has been acting

weird. I ask him if he's all right. Yeah, Anon, I'm fine. Are you sure we can't stay another night? I don't think the storm will hate you here. See something moving woods behind him. What was that? He doesn't turn around.

I pull on my knife, and for some reason he goes almost into a defensive pose, gives me a weird look. Dude, there was something behind you. He turns around then. I'm sure it was nothing, ain't. on. While we walk up to the car, he looks behind us a few times. I'm trying to act normal because he isn't. So, uh, uh, when I was cleaning up with a fire, I noticed a bit of your clothes in there. He says he wrecked them while collecting firewood and didn't want to add to the rubbish to bring back.

Fucking weirdo, dude. You've never done shit like that before. He shrugs and looks around as we get up to the car. Feel like something is watching me. Once we're in the car and back out of the road, I feel better. I keep trying to make conversation. but he doesn't put much into the conversation. I turn on the radio. Every so often he repeats things some of the radio presenters say. While we aren't talking, I have time to think about it. Him not being worried about shit that worries me. Thinking about the weird look he's been giving me in different situations. I feel sick and horrified, and I realize the faces are probably the faces I was pulling to him at those moments. He's been mimicking my expressions. Realize he's been

repeating phrases, I say, and his laugh never changes. His clothes all torn up and burying them, finding them burnt after I found them, wanting me to go back into the creepy fucking woods for some reason. I know for a fact he isn't gay or some shit. He has a girl he likes and it's adorable how chill he tries to be about it. Decide to give a little test. Talk about some stupid shit we did as kids. Ask him questions and he just says, Oh, I don't remember that part.

Or agrees with me. The more I think about it, I realize he hasn't been acting like himself at all. He went missing while I cooked. When we went to town, I turned my phone on and call my mom. She's glad we had fun and stuff. Can't wait for us to get back in town and spend more time with her before I get back to work. F-I-F-O, for life. Ask him if he's going to call his parents.

We'd look again. Then he gets his phone from his backpack. We'll continue. Nearly done. I buy grab money from our joint cash fund and buy us both lunch. He eats the almost raw steak from his burger, but doesn't want his chips or the rest of the bun or salad. He goes in. Comes out with two more peaches of red steak done rare. Wolfs those fuckers down when I finished my meal. Pulls out his phone again and fires off some texts. Notice some wicked bruises

covering his upper arms. Yo, what the fuck happened there, man? He shrugs, says they don't hurt. Well, okay then. I change clothes and shower there. He is waiting by the car. Notice him staring and watching other people. Says he doesn't want to shower. with smelly fucker and so he disappears for a bit. Comes back with new clothes and has a shower. Thank Christ, we both smelled like wild lanes. Keep on driving. Now nighttime. Only an hour or two out away from the home. He slowly begins to join in the conversation, but he doesn't sound the same as he used to. None of his speech habits like making puns, that sick fuck. No talking about the girl he's crazy about. Decide to bring up the creepy shit that happened at a can sight. I swear,

I thought about shooting at that horse or whatever that big thing was, but then I decided I like my chances of not knowing. He laughs. I wouldn't worry about that, Anon. I begin to feel uneasy and think that maybe this isn't my friend sitting beside me anymore. What about that thing that walked around our tent? He gives me this weird smile. Maybe it was a werewolf, Anon. I laugh.

Or a hot chick who was lost. He grins wider. Or maybe something that was just checking us out. out. Feel weird again. I force a laugh. Um, uh, why would anything do that? Like some cannibal or R word? He looks out the window. I can't watch him because I got to keep my eyes on the road. Maybe they wanted to get out there as badly as you did this morning an anon. What the fuck did he just say? I glanced at him, not looking at me. Can feel my knife still on my hip in the holster. The rifle stored safely away in the back.

Ha, like a skinwalker or some shit? Try not to drive this fucking car off the side of the road. Something like that. We both go silent. He laughs. Same fucking laugh. But that would be impossible, right, Anon? I laugh.

Uh, uh, yeah, uh, yeah, it would be. Radio goes on and we don't talk for the rest of it. Get to his house, help him get his shit out of my car, and then I drive home. Get inside. Shaking. I'm a man for fuck's sake. Keep it together, motherfucker. I seriously think my friend died out there, and there's something else living inside him now. Weird shit has happened, like his dog and cat have mysteriously disappeared. He doesn't hang out with us as much, and even the girl he liked tried to hang out with him, and she says he was really fucking weird. He apparently acts almost roboticly and only eats hardly cooked meals like a fucking

caveman. His mom even asked if he'd gotten into any fights because his skin is always bruised. Now he could have joined a fight club or has become the clumbiest motherfucker ever, but honestly, my best friend is a totally different guy. He recently invited me to go camping again to the same spot. I had to say I was busy, but I'm terrified that maybe there was more than one. And when he tried to get me to go out of the woods with him, he was trying to lure me out there for the same thing to happen to me. Shit's so fucked. I ignore his calls now,

and whenever I get back from a swing at work, all I get is complaints about his weird behavior and people asking if he's on drugs or some shit. For God's sake, I've told my friends to never take him up on camping, and I told the girl I liked, now my girlfriend. All this weird shit has happened, and she agrees that he is a totally different person.

He was a stand-up guy who was hilarious and laid back, and now he is the almost, malicious and uncaring and sometimes I can hear that fucking laugh in my head and that fucking screech and it sucks being terrified of some asshole I used to love like a brother. And so that concludes the fucked up tale of me being convinced that my friend is no longer human slash who he used to be. I've never in my life seen anyone change like that. Just some days I fucking nope the whole thing and hope that I'm just crazy and he's just gone on some kind of hardcore drugs. Should have asked him things that only he would have known. Lie about something. Make him agree with you and there

you go. A better way to tell or just come clean with everything and see if he admits it and arrogance. That's pretty much what I did and that's what set it off for me. Stupid shit we did as kids was like putting this purple goo into these girls' hair. He loves to tell that story because in order to get rid of the blame on us, we put it in our own hair so we wouldn't get in trouble and they wouldn't tell. We got in trouble anyway. While we were driving, I asked him if you remembered putting goo into girl's hair. He said yes. I asked him if you remembered if it was green or blue or purple or something. And he said he didn't remember, but I was pretty sure it was green. Now there is no fucking way he forgot. No way. He fucking told that story a couple weeks before we went down there.

I also asked him shit about his first dog, Mo. He didn't remember shit about Mo. In fact, it made me so sick of his vague fucking responses that I stopped before he realized I was getting upset. and God knows what would have happened, it realized what I was doing. But I assume it can read and it learns very fast, like his phone. When I told him to call him his parents, he treated his phone like he had no fucking idea, but by the time I bought food, he was already texting people. And then his mimicking my expressions and other people's and the radio's talking. It was fucking too spooky for me, man.

Maybe it makes me an asshole for being willing to drop a friendship that I've had pretty much my whole life over these experiences, but honestly, what am I supposed to do? Hello, officers, when I was camping on a camping trip with my best mate last year, and we spent a good amount of time drinking and camping on illegal ground, which will get me fined if not imprisoned. I'm pretty sure something ate my friend's insides and is now wearing him as a meat suit. Could you please contact the proper authorities and have this entire town and said campsite nuked?

Ha! From what I know, he hasn't attacked anyone physically or asked anyone else to go camping with him. He used to go visit Grandpa up outside of Bozeman in the winters. Grandpa is this tiny little, frail old man, and he's hardy as fuck. He used to take a snowshoeing up in the mountains and carry most of the gear in his sled. He pulled behind him. It was fucking cold up there. Your snout would be frozen before it left your nose. The times he did convince us to go out, we ended up staying in ice caves that Grandpa had carved into snow banks earlier in the winter. It got dark, really early. And of course,

course, no campfires because I since know everywhere. One year, we're out there camping with grandpa, and he's really on edge the whole trip. Don't ask him why, because we're stupid kids and don't think it matters. Random outbursts yelling at us for not tying and not right, yelling at us for not keeping up with his insane pace, stops hiking at about 2 p.m. Nightfall isn't for about another three and a half hours. Me and my brother exchange what the fuck looks with each other, looks around for his ice cave. There isn't one. Hey, grandpa, where are we camping?

Grandpa is nowhere to be found. Can't find his footprints, which is strange because no shoes leave enormous footprints that you can't miss. Backtrack and re-follow the trail to where we were earlier. Footprints just fucking end right where me and my brother were when Grandpa told us to stop for the day. Continued. After a lot of deliberation, we decided to head back, following our tracks back to the main road. where we will somehow flag down a car and get help to find our grandpa. We hike about an hour back the way we came, suddenly hear a voice.

Where the hell have you kids been? It's Grandpa, and he's pissed. Says he was hiking along and all the next time he turned around, we weren't there. Says our footprints just ended about 100 paces back from wherever he was when he realized we were gone. We tell him something similar happened to us and we just got back from two miles ahead of us on the trail. Suddenly, he goes into wild animal hyper-alert mode, stops talking, eyes scanning forced around us, head pivoting, side to side, trying to see ever at once. Get freaked out and brother starts crying. Grandpa won't respond when we ask him what's wrong, quietly muttering incoherently to himself.

After what seems like forever, Grandpa starts moving again. Simply says, follow me. And we do. Too scared to argue, but he's going in the third direction. i.e. not where we came from, and not where we were originally headed. We are all hiking close together, literally stepping on each other's feet. Can't hold hands because of ski poles, but we would have if we could have. Eventually emerged in a clearing. I recognize it as a lake, but you never know it in the winter when everything is frozen solid. We get out on the ice and walk all the way to the middle of the lake before we stop.

Grandpa tells us to get out of our parkers as we're going to be staying a while, Ask him what's happening. Doesn't answer. He gets at binoculars and starts to scan the shoreline. This is a pretty huge lake, so without binoculars, neither me, more my brother, could really see anything besides little distant trees on the shore. At this point, Grandpa puts the binoculars down, unpacks a fairly large caliber revolver and holster, and puts it on his hip.

He then picks the binoculars up and points them in the same direction he was looking a minute ago. me and my brother both look in that direction. I can barely see something moving around. No, a couple things. All of various sizes. They're all hanging on the bank, though. None of them leave the thick brush surrounding the lake or venture onto the ice.

After a few minutes, Grandpa silently hands me the binoculars. When I look at the movement on the shore, I almost hit my pants. There were three animals. Two are what I can only assume are wolves, maybe coyotes, but I don't think so. The bodies are just too long, almost snake-like. The third animal is some sort of all-white thing standing on two legs.

The more I look at it, the stranger it seems. At first, I took it to be a bear, but just standing there on its hind legs. Then it starts walking, pacing around really, and the legs are just too long and slender to be a bears. I sit down on the ice, lean up against my backpack, and get a more steady grip on the binoculars. I slowly realize that whatever it is has the approximate build of a human, but the head is clearly not a human head, some sort of animal. I can't place it. Ask Grandpa what the hell I'm looking at. Brother snatches by a knox away, and when he sees it, he labels it as bear man and wants to take a few shots at it.

Grandpa says Indians used to dress up an animal furze in order to blend in with the animals they were hunting. Slightly stopped shooting myself. It's just an Indian and a bear's a bear's sad. skin. And he has two dogs that look like wolves. And they're following us, but are afraid of ice. Start shooting my pants all over again as I realized that this is about a hundred times weirder than a real bearman. It's starting to get dark, and we're still out there on the ice. We're all watching the Indians slash bear man slash whatever the fuck it is and his dog slash wolf slowly wandering along the coastline, clearly avoiding the ice, but clearly trying to

get out onto it somehow. Every once in a while, they'll change direction, as though they were pacing back and forth. In the time I have the binoculars, I see the thing, and as dogs and wolves motionless, and staring directly at us many times. No one breaks the silence for a long time. When it gets too dark to see anything on the shore, Grandpa relaxes, puts down the binoculars, and actually starts to make camp as though nothing had happened. Of course, we don't have a tent, but we do have sleeping bags, and bivvy bags to keep the blowing snow off of them, in the wind off our faces. Me and my brother look at him like he's crazy.

We're going to sleep out here. I say something like, what about the guy? Holy shit, he's right over there. Doesn't matter. We spend the long night in that exact spot. The next morning, we can't locate any animals or bearmen after 45 minutes of scanning the trees around the lake. Grandpa deems it safe enough to head back now.

And since he knows these woods so well, we take a different route back to the main road, than we took to get there. After one mile, he's doubling back, staring at mountaintops and measuring angles between them with his arms, and I'm convinced he's lost. In the next moment, several things happen all at once. With no warning, a huge moose gallops out of seemingly thin air and almost crushes my brother,

managing to push him onto the ground. Grandpa collapses for an unknown reason. The three of us form a triangle and in the middle is a slender person covered in all-white fur, like a polar bear, and with a bear head or maybe a mask, but it looked pretty damn lifelike. The two wolves, I'm sure their wolves now, are circling at a distance, or rather, one is circling. I don't see the other. Bearman lets loose a scream like you imagine Bigfoot might make when caught in a bear trap. Grandpa half sits up, points revolver, and fires off three shots of the thing in rapid succession. Huge puff of snow,

like a silent explosion and can't see anything for a few seconds. Now a second moose goes hurtling through, and after it's gone and the snow is settled down, the bare man is gone too. No traces of blood to be found. Can still see the one wolf pretty far away, but it's still circling. We proceed to book it out of the woods, taking the shortest and most direct route off the mountain.

Think that grandpa isn't really sure about where he's going, but nobody gives a shit. We have to keep moving. Still think I see the wolf out. out of the edge of my vision. Several hundred feet out through the trees, or maybe it's both of them. We eventually do get back to Grandpa's car. Turns out he did know where he was going. It's been covered in fresh snow since we left. There's 10-inch paw prints all the fuck over it and around it. Nope. Nope. We clean off the snow and see that there are dens in the hood like hail fell on it,

but they're right under where the paw prints were. Nope. On the drive home, we all swear to never speak of this to grandma or to my mom. Have to swerve out of the way of a huge roadkill, almost drive off the road, stop just in time. The thing in the road is a huge mound of fur with no distinct animal-like forms. No head, no legs, no tail. Blood everywhere. Looks like a giant skin thrown over a giant mount of flesh. It moves. Nope, nope, nope. Nope, nope. Grandpa peels the fuck out, drives home 30 miles an hour over the speed limit, and we never look back. This isn't saved, but this is my own experience. Be me, Marine Circa Mid-2000s, stationed at Camp Pendleton, going out to 29 Palms or the stumps for a shoot soon.

29 Palms is fucking massive, middle of the Mojave Desert, almost 1,000 square miles. Most of the base is only accessible via unmarked slash dirt road. roads. My roommate at the time is this Hispanic dude from rural New Mexico, extremely superstitious. It has like 20 different Catholic saint pictures around his side of the room. It starts acting worried this Friday before we drive out of the stumps. Ask him what's wrong. Ghosts, man. What? That pace is haunted man. I roll my eyes internally and then say, I don't think ghosts are real. Don't fucking say that, man. Don't really know what to say to that. Go back to packing my shit. He starts talking, guess it was weighing on him. He tells me a story.

1980s, 29 palms. Unit from North Carolina is doing desert warfare training. Last day of the exercise. Trucking through a winding canyon. Remember, these are all unmarked dirt roads. Unit post guides so trucks don't take a wrong road. LCPL Rother is one of them. Last truck in the convoy is supposed to pick him up. Drives right past him. He waits. Nobody comes back for an entire day. Tempts are in the 100s, limited water remaining. Rother knows that the old Route 66 is north of them just outside the base limits. Makes an arrow out of rocks showing which way he went.

Starts walking. Fast forward another day. Been two days since anyone has seen Rother. Armory is counting weapons. One is missing. Rother is missing. Officer asked covering goes into overdrive. if Marines start swarming the desert looking for him.

Helos, thermal imagers, NVGs, you name it. Find his arrow and some of his gear. Find nothing else. Months go by. Skeletal remains found in the open desert clutching at M16. Hear this story and I say, So?

So his ghost is still out there, man? I don't believe in ghost myself. Yeah, sure. Okay. Later, check out the story. It's basically all true. Nothing about ghosts, though. Fast forward a week. We're in the middle of the training area, flat desert.

Unit is down for the night. Nearest unit is 20 miles away. Know this because we are an artillery unit, and part of my job is to make sure we don't actually shoot anyone. On Firewatch, 2 a.m. Alone because my partner is taken to shit. No moon. No NVGs either because I wasn't a driver at the time.

Just my shitty angle flashlight that doesn't work half the time. Very quiet. No insect noise. just the occasional breeze. Here the crunch of sand in the distance must be my firewatch buddy back from shit in. Showing my flashlight. Seeing Marine and Desert BDUs walking directly towards me. My partner was wearing MARPAT.

This is mid-2000s, so BDUs are almost completely replaced by Mar-Pat, but you still occasionally see Marines wearing them. First Sergeant has been a dick recently about proper sentry stuff, so I try to be on point just in case you brought an old pair of clammy's to, fuck with us. Halt, who goes there. Guy doesn't stop. Uh, Halt who goes there? Guy still doesn't stop. I said Halk who goes there, motherfucker. Still approaching. At this point in wartime, a century is supposed to open fire, but this is in the middle of California in a training area. Have a rifle, but no ammo. Only usable weapon is a folding Gerber pocket knife. Don't know what to do.

Uh, advance and be recognized. Guy walks right up to me. His BDUs are faded as fuck. Can't believe he wouldn't get chewed out for that. Also, big tears in his legs and arms, wishing I hadn't told him to advance. Wanted to back away, but Cam seemed to make my legs move. Right then, my flashlight goes out.

He's standing maybe a foot away from me, but it's a moonless night. He can barely see his face. He starts to speak. His voice is weak and gravely like he can barely speak. Which way is north? Don't know what to do, so I pull up my compass. It's dark, but luckily the North Arrow is glow in the dark. Point my arm into the general direction.

Thanks. He walks off towards the open desert. A few minutes later, my buddy comes back from his ship. Ask him if he heard anyone walking around. No. Ask him if you saw the guy walk right through the center of our Bouvac. No. Don't say anything about what just happened.

Stan watched for another 15 minutes in the next set of guys were leave us. Don't really sleep. Nothing else happens the rest of the exercise. Luckily, I don't pull any more Firewatch. My roommate tries to bring up ghost stories again when we go back to Pendleton. Tell them I don't want to talk about it. This is the first time I've told this story. I still don't know what to think about it. And all right, guys, that wraps up some weird 4chan stories. These were, you know, as the title says, a little bit weird. I like the first one. I liked honestly all the stories in this video you know they're a little bit funky a little bit weird and uh yeah i hope you enjoyed it anyways i really appreciate watching at the end of the video uh what video length would you like to see

30 minutes 40 minutes longer than that hour two hours three hours uh compilations uh i don't know comment down below i read all the comments you guys are the best i really appreciate you watching to the end of the video that's super cool of you and uh maybe watch another video on the channel a lot of the videos are like this so if you enjoyed this video You'll definitely enjoy the channel. Subscribe. I appreciate you. Welcome to the community.

And if you're part of the community, thank you. We got the best community on YouTube. And yeah, enough you happen. Go watch another one of my videos. And if not, cool. Have a great rest of your day. This is Snook. And I'll see you next time.

Bye.