Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Unsettling Encounters Mysterious Creatures and Hidden Dangers in Nature PART1 #17

Episode Date: September 30, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #paranormalencounters #creepyexperiences #wildhorrorstories #nightmarefuel #unexplainednature  Part 1 of Unsettling Encounters explores true chilling experiences in nature. From mysterious creatures lurking in the shadows to hidden dangers that catch adventurers off guard, these stories immerse readers in suspense and fear. Each tale highlights the unpredictable and often terrifying side of the natural world  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, paranormalencounters, creepyexperiences, wildhorrorstories, nightmarefuel, unexplainednature, scaryencounters, chillingtales, unsettlingmoments, realnightmares, disturbingstories, mysteriouscreatures, survivalstories, naturehorrorstories, truestoryhorror

Back in 2007. Let me take you way back for a second, 2007 to be exact. I was a scrawny 12-year-old kid, visiting my dad at his place in Ville, North Carolina. He lived in one of those double-wide trailers, parked right in the middle of 20 acres of fields, woods, and whatever else mother nature felt like throwing in. His land was completely paid off, so he didn't owe a dime to anyone. No mortgage, no loans, no nothing. Dad was as debt-free as they come, and he was proud of it.

For me, those visits were like stepping into a whole different world. I grew up used to having neighbors on all sides, hearing traffic in the background, but here. You could walk for what felt like forever and not see another soul. Most of the time, I'd spend my days wandering across the property, exploring the tree line, chasing squirrels, or pretending I was on some grand quest. Now, on this particular day, and I'm still kicking myself for this, I didn't invite any friends over. Normally, I'd have at least one buddy with me. Not just for company, but you know, to have another witness if anything weird happened.

And trust me, looking back, a witness would have been real nice. It was one of those bright, warm days where the sky is such a deep blue you almost feel like it's fake. Barely a cloud in sight. I was out behind the trailer, lost in my own little imaginary universe. I had a long stick I'd found earlier, and in my mind it wasn't a stick, it was a sword. I was a knight, or maybe a pirate, depending on the battle scene I was inventing at the time. I darted from tree to tree, whacking trunks and making as much noise as humanly possible. China, my dad's pit bull, was out there too. She wasn't roaming free, though. Dad had her clipped to a long runner line so she could cover most of the backyard without getting into trouble. She was a big, muscular dog,

but that day she wasn't in guard mode. She was sprawled out under the back porch in the shade, probably wondering why her goofy human was hitting trees with a stick. I was mid-battle when something shifted the vibe. Out of nowhere, my neighbor's German Shepherd started losing its mind, I mean, this dog had barked plenty of times before, usually at random wildlife, but this, this was different. It wasn't a, hey, I'm over here, bark. It was this deep, furious, almost desperate roar. I stopped mid-swing and looked across the dirt road, up their winding driveway. There it was, that shepherd, leaping at its chain-link fence like it was ready to tear through steel to get it something. That alone made the hairs on my arm.

arms stand up. I glanced at China. She'd stood up, moved out from under the porch, and was staring intently toward the woods on my left. No barking, no whining, just dead focused, like she was locked on something. I followed her gaze, peering through the trees. At first, I figured maybe it was a coyote or a bear, or something else I'd at least heard of before. But, no. What I saw next wiped all the casual curiosity. right out of me. It started with the shadow. Everything else, the branches, the patches of sunlight, swayed slightly with the breeze. But this one thing didn't move at all. It was still. Solid. Too solid. Then I saw it. It was huge, linebacker huge, with broad shoulders and a presence

that felt, wrong. I'd guess it stood somewhere between six and seven feet tall. Its fur was black. Not just dark brown, but jet black, and it seemed smooth, almost shiny. It hunched slightly forward, like it was about to spring. I should have run right then, but instead I took a step closer. That's when I saw the hand. It was massive. The fingers were long and ended in claws that looked like they could rip through a car door. It flexed them once, then rested its hand against the trunk of the tree it stood beside. And then, oh, I'll never forget this, it let out this low, rumbling growl that I felt in my bones more than I heard in my ears. I finally made eye contact with it.

At first, my brain tried to make it something normal. Maybe it was a man carrying a dog over his shoulders. But then I saw the snout. The teeth. Two perfect rows of sharp points. Those yellow eyes that seemed to glow from the inside. And that's when it hit me, I wasn't looking at a man holding a dog. I was looking at its face.

It was less than 30 feet away. I didn't think. I just ran. I tore around the trailer, sprinting for the back door. I grabbed the knob, slammed my shoulder into it, and it didn't budge. Locked. Panic hit me like a truck. My brain went straight to I'm about to be eaten alive.

With no other option, I dove under the porch where China had been earlier. She followed me, crawling into the shadows. She still wasn't barking, just watching. Every so often she'd let out this deep, warning growl, the kind that says if you come closer, we're going to have a problem. I have no idea how long I stayed under there. Time got weird. The sun shifted, and eventually dusk started creeping in.

I finally worked up the courage to crawl out, sprint around to the front of the trailer, get inside, and lock the door behind me. Then the adrenaline crash hit. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the doorknob. My chest felt tight. I couldn't breathe right. And then I realized, China was still outside, clipped to her runner line. I should have gone out to get her, but the thought of stepping outside again made my stomach turn.

I ran to my dad's room, banged on the door, and told him something was out there and he needed to bring her in. He was half asleep and just mumbled through the door that she'd be fine. That night, I stayed in my room, too scared to even look out the window. I didn't hear any barking from China, which I didn't know whether to take as a relief or a bad sign. When my dad woke me up the next morning, it was with news, and not the good kind. Something had broken into the chicken coop. Every single hen was dead, ripped apart. Two goats that had been tied up nearby were also gone, torn apart.

I ran to check under the porch. There was China, lying there quietly, unharmed. My dad checked her teeth, no feathers, no blood. Same with the neighbor's shepherd. I told my dad what I'd seen. He didn't believe me. Neither did my cousins, my mom, or my friends when I told them later. But the older I get, the more certain I am that I saw something real that day.

China stayed an indoor dog after that. I begged for it, and Dad agreed. I've always believed she's the reason I'm still here. And here's the thing, you don't have to believe me. But never ignore that gut feeling. The years in between, after that night in 2007, my life was. life kind of split into, before and after. Before, the woods around my dad's place were my playground. I'd roam for hours, come home with muddy shoes, scratched arms, and some wild story about

finding a raccoon's den or spotting a hawk. After. Not so much. I never looked at those trees the same way. It wasn't like I became a shut-in or anything, but the air out there didn't feel as friendly. I'd catch myself glancing at the tree line way too often. If a bird startled or the wind shifted in just the wrong way, my stomach would tighten. I'd remember the shape, the black fur, those eyes. Nobody ever believed me. My dad chalked it up to a pack of coyotes. My cousins thought I was telling a scary story for fun.

A few friends even said, Oh, you saw a bear. Sure. A bear that stands like a linebacker and stares at you like it's doing math in its head. Right. But the memory didn't fade. If anything, it sharpened over time. I even tried sketching it a few times. Every single drawing looked the same, those proportions, those claws, those eyes.

The more I tried to convince myself it could have been something normal, the less that theory held together. China lived out her life indoors after that night. She'd still go out on walks, but she slept inside, and honestly. That made me sleep better too. I always felt like she had, in her own quiet way, kept me alive that day. The Spider video, Fast forward a few years. I'm older, trying to live like a normal adult, and then the internet coughs up one of its strange little offerings, a video supposedly filmed in Russia of some massive,

spider-like monster climbing up the side of a building. Most people watched it the same way you watch a weird special effects clip. Huh, creepy. Wonder how they made that look so real. Me? The second I saw it move, my heart dropped like a stone. Not because I thought it was real, I figured pretty quickly it was fake. But it yanked something loose in my brain, something that had been buried deep and sleeping. I didn't just get spooked. I didn't just get spooked. I went into full lockdown mode. I pulled every curtain, covered every window, turned off every light. And then I basically curled into a ball for a day and a half.

Not because I thought something was outside, stalking me. It was worse than that. My brain was stuck in that old terror mode, the one that says, don't move. Don't make a sound. Don't even exist more than you have to. And as I sat there, shaking, trying to. to breathe, the memory came back, the one I'd almost forgotten. Or maybe I hadn't forgotten. Maybe I'd just shoved it so far down that it only surfaced when something familiar stirred it.

Early 90s, the camping trip. This would have been the early 90s, and I was maybe six or seven years old. My parents were deep into writing a book about birds at the time. That meant a lot of weekends spent camping in national forests so they could watch, record, and take notes on my own. And take notes on whatever species they came across. I actually liked it most of the time. The tents, the campfire smell, the sound of wind moving through the trees, it was all pretty magical for a kid. And that particular trip, we were way out there. No campgrounds, no RVs, no bathrooms. Just us, some gear, and the wilderness. I went to bed early that night, probably wiped out from hiking all day. My tent was kids, sized, just big enough for me and my sleeping bag. At some point, I woke up at the crack of dawn.

Not sure why. Maybe I heard something, maybe I just wasn't used to sleeping outside. For whatever reason, I didn't go to my parents' tent to wake them. Instead, I wandered over to this fold-out chair we'd set up on the edge of a little rise, overlooking a valley. From that spot, you could see far out into the trees. Next to the chair was an old pair of binoculars, the spare set they brought along for me. Heavy, a little scratched, but they worked fine. I sat down and started scanning for birds. Being a kid, I didn't have much patience for slow observation. After a few minutes, my eyes snagged on something bright, a spot of blue way off in the distance. I focused, and it turned out to be another tent. I could even make out the zipper flap. I stared at it for a while, waiting for

movement. Nothing happened, so my gaze wandered. That's when I saw it. No sound, no warning, just motion between two trees. Something huge. For a split second, my little kid brain thought, elephant. But this wasn't the zoo, and elephants don't walk like that. It had four legs, long, spindly, and crooked, almost like the legs of a daddy long-leg spider but thick enough to hold serious weight. They bent at odd angles, like they weren't designed for comfort, only for reach. The body they attached to was way too small for legs that size. It looked bloated, dark, maybe brown or black. Two shapes stuck up from it, antlers. At least, I thought they were antlers. And the thing was tall. Even without a perfect sense of distance, I could tell it was towering.

Seven, maybe eight feet if it straightened up. It didn't move like an animal I recognized. It moved like something that was looking for something. To be continued.