Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Terrifying Encounters in Woods, Lakes, and Trails Strangers With Dark and Sinister Intentions PART1 #5

Episode Date: October 18, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #woodsencounters #trailhorrorstories #lakedangers #sinisterstrangers #truefear  Part 1 of Terrifying Encounters in Woods, Lakes, and Trails explores spine-chilling real-life encounters in outdoor settings. From strangers lurking with dark intentions, to eerie events by lakes and along secluded trails, these stories reveal how even nature’s beauty can hide fear and danger. A tense start to a series that proves the outdoors isn’t always safe.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, woodsencounters, trailhorrorstories, lakedangers, sinisterstrangers, truefear, chillingencounters, unsettlingoutdoors, nightmarefuel, darkencounters, scarytrueevents, realfearstories, hikinghorror, outdoorterror, dangeroustrails

There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've been every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampact with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months, further terms apply. Collini, did you know if your age between 25 and 65?

Well, you can get a free HPV cervical check. It's one of the best ways to protect yourself from cervical cancer. And you know what? I actually checked only recently when mine was due and no exaggeration. It took me less than five minutes. You go online to hsec.i. Forward slash cervical check. But in your PPS number, shake in the date of birth.

And then they tell you when your next appointment is due. Oh my God. I know. I know. And you can check you on the register on the website. So you can phone [phone]. If your test is due today, you can book it today are hscccccd. i.e. 4 slash servical check.

Horror. Number three. The Adirondack Encounter. Let me set this one up properly because just jumping right to the creepy moment wouldn't do it justice. Stories like these need a slow buildup, almost like walking down a dark hallway where you don't know what's around the corner. The little details, the background, the atmosphere, they all make the final moment hit that much harder. So bear with me. because context is everything here. At the time, I was 23. My best friend was the same age, and we were in that stage of life where you're technically an adult, but still figuring out what that even means. We both grew up in places where woods were everywhere,

rivers to swim in during the summer, trees to climb when we were kids, trails to hike just because there wasn't anything else to do. It wasn't like we thought of ourselves as hardcore survival or those guys who wear camouflage every day of their lives. We were just comfortable out there. The forest wasn't an escape, it was home turf. For some people, going camping is this huge project. Weeks of planning, fancy gear from outdoor stores, carefully chosen meals, backup batteries, solar chargers, and GPS systems.

For us, it was way simpler. We'd toss whatever gear we had into our old beat-up backpacks, throw in some food that wouldn't spoil in the heat, maybe a flask if we were feeling extra celebratory, and just go. No online research, no carefully booked campground with clean bathrooms and picnic tables. We liked the messy version of camping, the one where you might not see another human being for days, where your only neighbors are raccoons or owls. That summer, we decided the Adirondacks sounded perfect. We planned to tune to night backpacking trip, nothing epic, just a little adventure. The idea was to hike about five miles

in, find this small lake we'd heard rumors about from other hikers, and camp by the water. It sounded almost too good to be true. No crowds, no RVs blaring generators, no noise pollution. Just stars, fire, and whatever conversations two 23-year-olds could dream up. Packing was automatic for us, sleeping bags, tent, flashlights, freeze-dried meals, water filters, ropes, and of course, extra socks. I swear, nothing ruins a camping trip faster than wet socks. My buddy had a 22 rifle, which might sound extreme to some people, but for him it was no different than bringing a pocket knife. He'd grown up hunting, and to him it was just another tool, like a shovel or a rope. I wasn't into guns, but I trusted him. Personally, my weapon of choice was a hatchet, mostly for chopping firewood,

but also because it made me feel safer having something sharp and reliable in my hand. The hike in was gorgeous, heavy packs pulling on our shoulders, sweat dripping down our backs, but also that amazing rush of knowing you're heading into somewhere quiet and untouched. The Adirondacks don't play around. The forest there is thick, green, stacked on green, shadows overlapping even in the middle of the day. The trails twist around roots and rocks, and every once in a while you catch a glimpse of the sky through the canopy and remember how small you really are out there.

By late afternoon, we found the lake. It wasn't huge, not like one of those picture-perfect postcard lakes with people kayaking on it. It was more like a secret pond, hidden and waiting. The surface was still, smooth like a mirror, reflecting the towering trees around it. When I saw it, I felt that little spark you get when you stumble onto something that feels almost magical.

There was nobody around, no signs of campfires, no trash, no fishing lines tangled in branches. Just us and this little stretch of water. We set up camp like we'd done dozens of times before. Tant up, fire pit dug, wood collected. By the time the sun started sinking, the fire was crackling, and we were sitting back on logs, passing a flask, and letting the night settle in. Those nights are my favorite kind. The ones where you have nowhere to be,

nothing pulling you away, and you can talk for hours about dumb high school memories, girlfriends who broke our hearts, random jokes that wouldn't make sense to anyone else. The fire snapped and popped, the lake lapped gently at the shore, and the sky filled with stars. It felt like we had the whole universe to ourselves. Then, around 10.30 or so, we noticed a light. Across the lake, a flashlight beam flickered through the trees. At first, we didn't think much of it. People hike, people fish, people wander at night sometimes.

It wasn't impossible. But the more we thought about it, the stranger it felt. This wasn't the kind of lake you just found. It wasn't marked on a map, and the trail leading to it, wasn't obvious. And who hikes into the woods that late at night? The light moved steadily around the far edge of the lake, not stumbling, not lost.

There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time, we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. That's the U.R.C. and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Ew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Stand-upressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. Collini, did you know if your age between 25 and 65?

Well, you can get a free HPV cervical check. It's one of the best ways to protect yourself from cervical cancer. And you know what? I actually checked only recently when mine was due and no exaggeration. It took me less than five minutes. You go online to hse.e. Forward slash cervical check.

Put in your PPS number. Check in the date of birth. And then they tell you when your next appointment is. you? Oh my gosh, that's a real. And you can check her on the register on the website so you can phone [phone]. If your test is due today, you can book it today or hcc.i.4 slash servicle check. Purposeful. Heading in our direction. We tried to laugh it off. Probably just another guy setting up late, my buddy whispered. But neither of us believed it. As the beam drew closer, we gave each other a look. Without a word, we knew what to do. We saw. We saw.

slipped back into the trees, maybe 50 yards from camp, crouching low behind the thick branches of a hemlock. My buddy rested the rifle across his knees, silent but ready. I gripped my hatchet so tightly my palms sweated. The flashlight reached our fire. And then we saw him. Not a camper, not a fisherman. A man, maybe in his 40s, scruffy beard, sharp eyes that didn't look friendly. and worst of all, he was holding a shotgun.

My chest pounded so hard I swear he'd hear it. We stayed frozen, hardly daring to breathe. He circled our fire slowly, then crouched by the tent. He unzipped it and started digging through our gear like he owned the place. Then he stood, stepped back, and called into the darkness. I know you're out there. Why don't you come say hello? My blood turned to ice.

We didn't answer, didn't move. He raised the shotgun and fired into the woods, not into the air, into the trees, into the rocks. The blast ripped through the silence, echoing across the lake. My ears rang, my body stiffened. The flashlight beam swept the forest. Each time it came close, I thought it was over. Finally, he lowered the light. He spotted my buddy's spare backpack by the tent, grabbed it and tossed it into the fire. We watched our stuff burn while he stood there like it was nothing. The whole time my friend whispered, should I shoot? Just give me the word. But I shook my head, not unless he sees us, not unless he points it at us. After what felt like hours, the man finally wandered back into the trees. His light bobbed away, circling the far side of the lake until it

vanished. We waited and waited until we were sure he was gone. Then we bolted. We rushed into camp, stuffed whatever we could grab into one pack, and left everything else behind. No sleeping, no stopping. We ran down the trail like our lives depended on it, tripping, stumbling, pushing ourselves harder than ever. By dawn, we reached the car. We threw our gear inside, slammed the doors, and drove like maniacs until we reached a police station. We told them everything. The shotgun, the shot into the woods, the fire, the man. They wrote it down, nodded, called a ranger.

And that was it. No follow-up, no call, no arrest. Even now, years later, the memory makes my skin crawl. Because out there, the scariest part isn't always the animals or the storms or the dark. Sometimes it's the people. Number two, the lake in Georgia. Now let's switch gears. The next story doesn't belong to me. It comes from a girl who was just 13 when it happened. And while it's very different from the Adirondack encounter, the theme is the same. Sometimes the most terrifying part of the outdoors isn't the wilderness.

She was in Georgia, dealing with summers that feel like punishment. The heat there is brutal, humid, sticky, the kind that makes you sweat even when you're sitting still. When you're 13, the only thing you dream about is water, pools, rivers, lakes, anything to cool down. She and her best friend had a secret spot at the lake. It wasn't fancy, not some beach or vacation home, just a big, raw lake in the middle of nowhere. But they'd discovered something magical there, a little hideout that felt like it belonged only to them. It wasn't exactly a cave, but it looked like one. Tree roots had collapsed into the wire over time, forming a hollow pocket you could swim into.

Inside, there was a flat rock ledge, just big enough to sit on, hidden from sight. For two 13-year-old girls, it was a fortress, a clubhouse, a private world. One summer afternoon, they swam out, checked for snakes like always, and climbed into their hideout. They sat there dripping wet, laughing about crushes, complaining about parents, dreaming about the future. Normal middle school stuff. Then they heard it. A truck pulling up nearby. Door slamming, heavy boots crunching the ground. They froze. People came to fish sometimes, sure. But something about it felt off. Then came the splash. Someone was in the water. Moments later, a man swam into their hideout. He was older, 50s maybe, 60s, balding. His smile was wrong. His eyes made them feel sick. He asked their names. Panicked, they gave fake ones. He chuckled, saying they were pretty names. Then he said something that froze them in place.