Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - We Found a Rotten Black Bag in the Forest and Thought It Was a Body—It Wasn’t… Luckily #20

Episode Date: August 1, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #foresthorror #mysterydiscovery #creepyfind #paranormalencounter #unexpectedtwist  While exploring a dense forest, a group of friends stumbled upon a black bag that smelled of rot and decay. Hearts pounding, they feared the worst—a dead body hidden deep in the wilderness. But when they dared to open it, the truth shocked them. It wasn’t a corpse, but something far stranger and creepier. The experience left them shaken, questioning what really lurks in the shadows. This story combines suspense, unexpected twists, and the primal fear of the unknown lurking just out of sight.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, forestmystery, creepydiscovery, suspensehorror, unexpectedtwist, paranormalencounter, eeriewoods, horroradventure, unsettlingfind, darksecrets, mysterybag, hauntingexperience, fearoftheunknown, urbanlegend, chillingstory

So, picture this, about three or four weeks ago, I decided to head out to my uncle and aunt's place, plus, of course, my two cousins hung out with us. Their property is, like, seriously huge. I'm talking vast open grassy fields that just seem to stretch on forever, and then there's this smaller, but surprisingly dense, patch of forest tucked in right next to the main yard. The way the woods practically begin just to hop, skip, and jump from their house is pretty cool, and my cousin and I routinely wander into the trees to scout for berries or just go exploring aimlessly because, well, why not? On one of those typical forest escapades, my cousin and I were deep in

berry-gathering mode. We had our little baskets and everything, tossing in any bright, juicy berries we could find. Blueberries, raspberries, you name it. The forest was in full summer bloom, wildflowers dotting the edges of the paths where the grass had grown too tall to be a properly cut lawn, and the sun was doing its dappled light through leaves magic. We were having a chill time. Then, as I stooped to pick a particularly perfect cluster of raspberries, I spotted something odd. Right at the edge of my peripheral vision, nestled among the riot of green foliage, was this black something. At first glance I thought it was just some random bit of tarp, like someone had tossed it in and forgotten about it.

But curiosity got the best of me, like it always does, and I reached down to have a feel for it. It was weirdly heavy. Like, way heavier than your average piece of tarp. When I tugged on it, it resisted. It felt kind of embedded in the soil, like it had been there a while. As I pulled more, I realized it wasn't tarp after all. It was, in fact, a black plastic trash bag. and not some fresh, crisp kind of bag, it looked really old, nearly weathered. The plastic was scuffed,

the edges fraying slightly, and the whole thing had this dull sheen like it had been baked in the sun and rained on a couple of dozen times. At that moment I felt that familiar jolt you get when something feels off. It kind of hit me, this wasn't just someone's litter. My cousin and I exchanged a look of surprise. His eyebrows shot up, minded the same. We both thought maybe somebody had just ditched their trash there, but that didn't make sense when you thought about it. This was the kind of place my uncle and aunt prided themselves on, safe, tidy, well kept. They always picked up even the smallest bit of paper or plastic. This was a, bushy, upscale sort of neighborhood where crime or littering were basically unheard of.

Still, we didn't want to jump to conclusions. So we pocketed it, or, well, I did. did, sort of wrapped it up gently, and headed back to the house to let my uncle know. My cousin and I were a bit shook, but curious too. Once we were inside, we found him in the living room, sipping iced tea and basking in the afternoon sun coming through the windows. I paused at the doorway, took a breath, and said, Hey, uncle, weird thing, we found this old trash bag buried back near the trees. His expression shifted right away from relaxed to concerned.

He's one of those guys who cares about nature to the bone, wears earth-friendly shirts, watches documentaries about wildlife, has recycling bins always overflowing, so this kind of thing concerned him. He inspected it quickly and said, this definitely isn't ours. We're super careful about picking up after ourselves. No denial, no excuses. He was genuinely surprised. And that's just when we realized we had no idea what was inside that bag. It was squashed into the dirt, heavier than it had any right to be, and clearly been there long enough to look ancient in terms of plastic aging.

My cousin, who just finished working half an hour earlier, was worn out from the day. I could tell he was tempted just to say, let's leave it for another time. And we did exactly that. We walked away from it, agreed to wait till a less tired and less nearly pitch black evening to go back, then moved on with our day. I remember thinking, why would anyone bury a trash bag here? It's weird. I made a mental note to ask my cousin to come back with me soon, but then time got away from us. A couple days passed. My cousin had a couple of long work shifts. I was tied up helping my aunt around the house. Then it just sort of slipped my mind. Life happened. But he, being more

responsible than I tend to be, texted me, let's go check that bag this weekend. I agreed. We planned it. Fast forward to Saturday morning, bright, sunny, a nice breeze. The kind of day that screams, perfect for an adventure. We grabbed our baskets again, just in case there were berries left to collect, and headed to the forest edge. When we got back to the spot, I swear, my heart did a little skip when I saw it still poking out of the ground. Like a wound that hadn't healed, you know. We knelt down. I grabbed the exposed part and gave a gentle tug. Still stuck. Again. We tried maneuvering it from different angles.

The bag seemed to interweave with roots and sticks underground. Then we realized, we'd need to rip it apart to get it out. So, with a bit of hesitation, we'd be able to. both glanced at each other, like, are you sure? I, ripped a section of black plastic away from the patch embedded in the dirt. Once I did, a smell hit me forcefully, it was nasty. Not overpoweringly disgusting, but definitely foul. Something old and musty, like yard gunk that had rotted for weeks. A sort of dank musk mixed with the smell of decomposing wood and maybe some animal musk. Hard to pinpoint, but instantly gross and weird.

We both wrinkled our noses and took a step back. We wanted to see what was inside, but there was no easy peek. The bag was still mostly buried, swallowed up by thick brush. We couldn't get a clear view. So, did we plow into the thicket? No way. It was late afternoon, shadows growing longer. Heading deeper and seemed like a terrible idea.

Instead, we yanked out what remained in our hands, the part of the bag that wasn't deeply buried, and carried it back out. We wrestled it free, ripped more plastic until enough came out to untangle from the roots. Then we walked it out of the woods, dreading the stench but curious about what secrets it held. Back at the house, we got brave. We opened it up, expected who knows what, a nasty pile of moldy food, construction waste, or worse. But to our relief, it wasn't human. Instead, inside were scattered animal bones,

lots of small bones, a jumble. Pieces that looked like they came from rodents, birds, maybe a raccoon, maybe squirrel, definitely. Also some broken down bits of wood. A brush fragment. It made this melancholy sense, like maybe some old, exploratory compost or something someone had tried once and then just abandoned. My cousin and I stared silently for a few seconds. I remember internalizing this massive few. My mind saying, not a body, not a crime. Just weird wildlife leftovers. We felt this enormous release of tension alchemizing into laughter. Seriously, we burst out laughing like two kids relieved to have avoided a huge problem. That bag, once a potential horror, turned out to be.

messy, but in the less terrifying animal realm. We grabbed some gloves, disposed of the bag properly, bagged up those bones, carefully, because we didn't want blood or whatever, and tossed them in the local bin, then washed thoroughly. My cousin even hosed the area we were kneeling in to refresh the smell. My aunt came out and asked what was up. My cousin gave her a thumbs up with a grin, empty trash bag. Just animal bones. You'll get a kick out of it. She giggled, waved it off, and we agreed to treat it like no big deal.

Then we got the thoughtful idea to ask our uncle about the property's history. It turns out the people who lived there before them had done a lot of yard clearing, maybe even killed a few animals for fur or pest control. The bones might well be left over from that, like someone buried their hunting clean-up without much ceremony. My uncle said, probably they had to clear raccoons or possums from under the shed and just tossed the leftovers here. He even said my aunt had always wondered why a few odd spots in the forest smelled musty. All in all, the bag mystery wasn't sinister. It was just weird, a dusty remnant of old wildlife and fixer upper history. But man, that stomach drop when we first

saw it. Real. Definitely worth the story, and And yes, we're so glad it wasn't something horrible. So yeah, little Saturday forest adventure, unnerving at first, gross middle, relief-filled finish. And that, my friends, is the end of this story. The backyard woods have resumed their calm, berry-bearing existence, and we've got one heck of a remember-when memory to laugh about for years. The end.