The Lets Read Podcast - 289: HE FOLLOWED US INTO THE WOODS | Rain Ambience / 25 True Scary Stories | EP 277

Episode Date: April 29, 2025

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Hiking, Camping & the paranormal. HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT? [e-mail] FOLLOW ME ON - ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsRead ♫ Music & Cover art: INEKT https://www.youtube.com/@inekt

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Get 25% off at ritual.com slash clinical. These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. I'm going to go. It was the last week before I had to head back to college, and my friends Jess and Katie decided that we needed one more adventure before the summer officially ended. We planned a light hike through the woods and an overnight campout, but nothing too intense, no pun intended for those who just got my intense joke. Anyways, we just wanted enough of a getaway to feel like we'd done something for our summer

besides working and binge-watching Netflix. And the day started out exactly how we hoped. We packed up the car with our gear, grabbed some snacks, and hit the road with music blasting in the windows down. I think we played Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus at least seven times, and the hike we chose was about an hour away, in a spot Jesse's older brother had told us about. It's pretty secluded, he said, but it's beautiful and you'll practically have the place to yourselves. And that sounded perfect to us.

On the way we decided it wouldn't be a real camping trip without some beers, so we pulled into a gas station to try our luck. Now, none of us were 21 yet, but Katie, with her usual confidence, strode into the store to give it a shot. Jess and I waited in the car, laughing and chatting, but when Katie came back out empty-handed and shaking her head, we knew that it was a no-go. In an annoyed voice, she said, the stupid guy wouldn't even entertain the idea. Katie sighed as she slid back into the driver's seat. I could tell that she was slightly embarrassed. Katie wasn't used to hearing no, I guess. And just as we were about to give up on the beer idea,

a guy who had been filling up his tank walked over to our car. And he looked normal enough. He was of average height and a little scruffy, maybe in his mid-twenties. He was wearing this nice purple flannel that didn't look ragged or gross. Most noticeable, though, was that he had this friendly smile. But something about the way he was so quick to approach us set off a tiny alarm bell in my head. In a deep and almost bellowing voice, he says, Hey. And then he started leaning down to Jess's window. Saw you had some trouble in there. Need help getting something?

His tone seemed casual, but his eyes were all over each of us, lingering just a bit too long for comfort. Katie, always the bold one, jumped at the chance. Yeah, could you grab us some beers? We got cash. She handed him a twenty and he nodded, smiling. Sure thing. What do you want? Still, something about his handsome smile was just off to me. Katie continued talking to him and I tried silently communicating my unease with Jesse and Katie, but it was just too late now. The guy was already walking into the store. When he came back out, he had a case of beer in one hand and the change in the other.

Here you go, he said, handing it all over with that same smile. But then he hesitated like he was waiting for something. Thanks, man, Katie said quickly, grabbing the beer and giving him a sort of little wave. And Jess started the car and before the guy could say anything else, we drove off. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I glanced back and saw that he was just still standing there, seemingly watching us. That was weird, I muttered, but Katie brushed it off by saying something like, relax, he's just being nice. We got our beer, didn't we?

And the drive to the trailhead was uneventful, and soon we were out in the woods, surrounded by tall trees and the sound of birds. The hike was gorgeous, just like Jess's brother had said. The path wound through the trees with sunlight flittering through the leaves, and we were laughing, taking pictures, and enjoying the peace that came with being away from civilization. But as the day wore on, I started to feel a little uneasy. Every now and then I thought that I heard something. Simple things, like a twig snapping, the leaves rustling, or the sound of a sudden shifting in the distance.

But whenever I turned around, there was nothing there. I told myself it was just the usual sounds of the forest, because honestly, they were. No matter what I told myself, I just couldn't shake a certain feeling. And by the time we set up camp, the sun was finally setting, and our little corner of the forest started to get dark very fast. We built a small fire, roasted some marshmallows, and cracked open a few of those beers that we almost didn't end up with. Jess and Katie were having a blast, and on the surface,

I appeared to be having a blast as well as I continued trying to ignore the creepy darkness around us. While we were sitting around the campfire, it was Jess who first mentioned the sounds out loud. Do you guys hear that? She asked in a low voice, almost a whisper. Sounds like, I don't know, like someone walking around out there. Katie was quick, with a response saying, come on, it's probably just animals. But even she didn't sound entirely convinced. We all sat there, listening intently, but after a while, the noise stopped and we tried to shake off the uncomfortable vibe that was surrounding the fire now. Eventually, we crawled into the tent, snuggled into our sleeping bags and tried to get some sleep. But sleep didn't come easily.

The sounds outside started up again. It was faint, but at least to me the sounds appeared unmistakable. All those twigs snapping and the leaves rustling sounded a lot like bipedal footsteps. And my heart was pounding, and I could tell by the way Jess and Katie were shifting in their bags that they clearly were awake and hearing it too. After what felt like hours of just lying there, eyes wide open in the dark, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. The fire had died down before we got into the tent and I wanted to make sure that it was completely out by now. I whispered to the girls that I was stepping outside for a minute and they seemed to agree silently.

I unzipped the tent and stepped out into the cool night. The woods were pitch black except for a little glow of the embers from our fire. I grabbed a bottle of water and was about to pour it over the coals when I heard those rustling sounds again, except this time it sounded like footsteps, and it sounded like it was directly behind me. I froze, and I remember being unable to catch my breath. Slowly I turned, and there, standing just a few feet away, was what I could only describe instantly as recognizing the guy from the gas station. His face was barely visible in the dim light, but in that instant my mind knew that was him. I recognized the purple flannel from earlier,

and I wanted to scream and run, but I was rooted to the spot. I was so scared that it felt like I had forgotten how to breathe. The guy just stood there, staring at me, not moving a muscle, which somehow made this entire interaction even worse. It felt like an eternity, but finally, I found my voice. Get away from me! I screamed, and the sound seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. He took a step back, and then another,

and before I knew it, this guy was sprinting off into the woods. I didn't wait to see where he went. I ran back to the tent. Jess and Katie were rolling around as they heard me scream. I started to shake them and yelled, we need to go now, and I could feel my voice shaking. My friends didn't really question what was happening. I started saying about how the guy from earlier was outside the tent, and apparently that was enough to get my friends panicking and packing. And we packed up all in record time, not even bothering to fold the tent properly. We just stuffed everything into our bags and took off down the trail.

I remember the trail back being so nerve-wracking because we could barely see anything. It was dark and our flashlights didn't do much to illuminate the path other than the trees that were directly in front of us, and every sound we heard made us erratic and just caused us to run faster. We got to the car and it still wasn't even dawn yet. We didn't say much on the drive home as all of us were just still too freaked out the process what had just happened. And in hindsight, we should have just called the police right then and there. But getting away was the only thing on our minds at that time. When we finally pulled into Jess's driveway, we just sat there for a moment, staring

straight ahead. And that's when I finally called the police and reported what had happened. I told them about the guy from the gas station and I told them about the approximate time that we had encountered him. I remember Katie begging me to get off the phone with the police because she was scared that she was going to get in trouble for the alcohol. But if this guy was some sort of creep, I wanted to make sure the cops knew. Now, it's been years now, and we never did figure out what that guy wanted, or if it even truly was him from that place following us.

And after that night, we decided our summer adventures were over. I can still imagine the sight of him standing there in the dark, staring at me, and I often wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone out to check the fire. Not that it's the most reassuring thought, but I also hope that this man was just a peeping creep, and not something way, way worse. My now ex-boyfriend, current boyfriend during the story, who I'll just call Roger, and I tried to travel and take trips as much as possible. We loved exploring new places and getting away, even if it was for just a few days. And now with that said, we are pretty big introverts and like doing our own thing. When we hike or camp, we like to do so in secluded areas and not be in

crowded camping sites or trails where you are literally shoulder to shoulder with other people. We decided to visit a new hiking trail that was decently steep that Roger heard about from a friend at work. We figured it would test our limits and be a nice little getaway for a few days. We have a huge tent and some other amenities to make ourselves comfortable and I was actually pretty excited to get away. We got there and set up an impromptu campsite on a flat piece of ground where we would be sheltered from wind during the night. And we started this massive hike and I was excited and nervous, but my excitement turned to annoyance when we stumbled upon another couple hiking at the

same place that we were. I say that I was annoyed, but I really wasn't. Everyone has the right to public places as we did, as I am just very anxious and a very socially awkward person. The couple came up to us and introduced themselves, and we were polite and sparked up a little conversation. The couple was actually quite charming and the questions they asked us and the information they shared with us had both Roger and I pretty disarmed. They asked if we wanted to continue the hike together and since it's such a long trip we agreed and figured that we could just turn around if we no longer want company. As I said, the couple is as sweet as can be.

They're super informative about the area and I found them very easy to talk to, even though I usually am terrible at keeping conversation with new people. We've been going for about 45 minutes and I started falling a little behind. The guy that I'll refer to as Matthew, I won't be sharing the names that they actually gave us, falls behind me and starts up a conversation. And this is where things start to get a little creepy. He starts mentioning my physique and asks what type of workouts I do, stating that his partner is trying to tighten her buns and stay fit. He put his hand on my arm and hand and said, look at that definition. You must devote a lot of time to arm days. And I pulled back, kind of in shock and also wanting to get the hell out

of there. Now, five minutes ago, I found him charming and endearing, and now I feel like his eyes are all over me and I'm getting some very creepy vibes. I catch up to Roger and try and whisper the gist of it to him and he lets me know that the girl has also started being really weird and made a comment about his package and made sure to say that she wasn't talking about the backpack. Thoroughly creeped out at this point, we decide to just head back and thank them for their great conversation. Thankfully, they wanted to finish the hike and we could just get out of there and back to our campsite. After having a bite to eat, I realized both my bracelet and ring were gone. And I was racking my brain on how the hell I lost them.

I never take them off, but it wasn't likely at all that they would just fall off. And then after 15 minutes of looking in my bags, I stopped dead in my tracks. I leaned over to Roger and said, Matthew touched my arm and hand on the hike when he was complimenting my definition. Do you think he could have swiped it without me noticing? And we weren't sure, and Roger told me that he would head back up in the morning and see if he saw anything on the ground. We went to bed early knowing that we were going to get up early and try to find the lost jewelry and head home.

In the middle of the night, I awoke to the loud sound of a snapping branch and what felt like whispering or something. In that moment, I finally came to and shook Roger and woke him up and must have heard it as well. At that moment, he put a finger over his lips to tell me to keep quiet as he quietly unzipped the tent to take a look. The next thing I know, he's yelling, Hey, what are you doing over there? It was the couple from earlier. They said that they had stumbled across our area and wanted to wake up whoever was there because they saw a bear and were fearful that it might attack the site. Roger said that he appreciates that info but that we're all set. And then Roger came back to the tent and put his finger over his mouth again.

He kept his eyes directly on the window of the tent and didn't finger over his mouth again. He kept his eyes directly on the window of the tent and didn't speak for about five minutes. He then looked at me and said, grab everything you can and get in the car. I went to speak and he just repeated the same phrase. We got out and grabbed as much stuff as we could. He even grabbed the tent and began stuffing it still half together into the truck and we just peeled off once we had the essentials and I finally got an answer out of him as to what was going on. He goes on to say that the Matthew, the guy from earlier, seemed to have a knife in his hand and another one holstered when he got out of that tent and he said he didn't feel safe with us staying there and wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Once we got home and began to shake that terrible nightmare from our minds, I decided to actually look up those couple's names on Facebook. Now the only thing I could find was that those same two names were the names of the couple who died on a camping trip a few years prior. And no, this isn't some ghost story. There was a photo of the couple who had tragically passed, and they were not the two people that we saw. For what malicious reasons were they using these fake names, though? Was it just to steal people's stuff?

Or something worse? I'm glad that we got up and left right away or we may have found out what their true intentions were. Back in 2015, my wife and I, along with our friends Jake and Tabby, had been planning this hike trip for many weeks. We all worked together and it was rare for us to get a long weekend off at the same time, given that we all have such drastically different jobs. So when the opportunity finally came, we jumped at it. And the plan was to head

out early Saturday morning and spend the entire day exploring the wilderness. We'd mapped out a trail that promised stunning views, and we were all eager to disconnect from the world for a while. The drive to the trailhead was peaceful. The sun was just starting to rise, so the entire drive had this very amazing orange color, and we were laughing, swapping stories, and enjoying the early start. But as soon as we arrived at the trailhead, our excitement took a hit. The sky darkened almost instantly and within minutes it started to downpour. It was raining so hard that you couldn't even see anything in front of you. We hoped it was just a passing shower and decided

to wait it out in the car. We'd already made the drive there, we weren't about to turn around and drive home already. The rain pounded against the roof and the windows fogged up with our breath. It wasn't the start that we'd imagined, but we were determined to make the best of it. And after about 20 minutes, the rain let up, leaving behind a very misty and overcast day. We debated whether that we should continue the hike, but the trail was calling us and we didn't want to waste any time. So we grabbed our gear and headed out. We didn't get very far before the rain started again, this time even harder. It was like someone had turned on a faucet and we were drenched within seconds.

We ran back to the car, laughing and cursing at the same time, trying to shield ourselves from the downpour. But as we reached the car, we saw something that made us all stop in our tracks. Standing next to the SUV was a young woman. She was soaked to the bone and her clothes clinging to her thin frame were like rags. She looked like she had been through hell, and her hair was matted and her face was covered with seemingly dirt, and at first I thought maybe I was seeing things because of the rain, but no, she out like, hey, get away from my car. That was more out of fear than anything else. It was instinctive, and I just felt like I had this rush of adrenaline that was telling me something wasn't quite right. She didn't move, though. She stood there, staring at us with these very hollow eyes. She had that look like a deer gives you in the middle of the woods

when they're just sort of standing there like statues. Before I could let out another angry scream, my wife held me back and said to me in a very concerned voice to wait and hold on. She even said that she looked kind of hurt. Now Jake and Tabby were silent, unsure of what to do. I didn't want to let this stranger into our car, but I couldn't ignore the fact that she might be in serious trouble. And so, against my better judgment, we all piled into the SUV, with a woman sitting behind the front passenger seat, and my wife in the middle seat in the back trying to comfort this woman. The car was cramped, the windows fogged up again from the sudden influx of bodies and you could just feel

the tension in the car. It went from a fun hiking trip to now dealing with a strange and potentially hurt woman in the middle of nowhere. The woman didn't say much, in fact she didn't say anything at all, and she just sat there, shivering and staring straight ahead. My wife thought that she looked like she was maybe in shock and she started to assume the worst. The woman had makeup running all down her cheeks and was impossible to tell if that was from the rain or crying and we tried to ask her where she was from and what had happened to her but she didn't respond. I kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror trying to read her expressions but there was nothing there, just this sort of vacant look. The lights were on, but clearly nobody was home.

Jake suggested that we should get her to the nearest gas station and call for help, and we all agreed. There was no cell service out here, so that was our best option. I started the car and we headed down this muddy road. The windshield wipers were working overtime to keep the rain at bay. Now I know it's easy to say this now but something just still wasn't sitting right with me. I know this was a tense situation but that's not what bothered me. The way she just sort of appeared out of nowhere. Her silence. Or the way she didn't seem to be phased by the cold or the rain. That's what bothered me. It was clear to me that this woman had issues, and it was impossible to

tell if she was dangerous or just truly shaken up about something. I could tell my wife and friends were trying to stay calm, but I could feel the discomfort they all felt, especially Tabby. We were about two minutes from the gas station when the woman suddenly started to scream. And not just a little scream, but it was a loud, high-pitched guttural sound that startled me so badly that I started to lose control of the car. She thrashed around in the back seat, hitting the windows and the seats, making it impossible for me to regain control of the vehicle. I tried my best to at least keep the SUV on the road, but the road was slick, and before I knew it, the car veered off the road and into a ditch. The car now having come to a sudden stop, and for a moment, everything was silent except for the pounding of

the rain. We were all trying to catch our breath, trying to make sense of what just happened. But then the woman just starts cackling. It was this cold, empty laugh that was kind of bringing us back to reality. She was howling in laughter. I had a minor scrape on my forehead from hitting my head on the steering wheel, but everyone else appeared to be physically okay. And before anyone else could say anything, Jake just shouted at her, what the hell is wrong with you? And this woman's insane laughter came to some abrupt end. She pulled out a small blade from the inside of her shirt. It looked like a box cutter from where I was sitting. She put her left elbow into my wife's neck

and then held the blade with her right hand to Tabby's neck. She said, Give me all your money now. It was one of the most unsettling parts about this nightmare that was unfolding. It was that there was no trace of fear in her voice, only a sick sort of satisfaction. And we didn't argue. We just threw down whatever cash or whatever else we had

as we were all too scared to do anything else. My wife started crying, Jake was cursing under his breath, and I was just trying to keep it together for everyone. The woman grabbed the money, opened the car door, and just started sprinting into the rain without looking back. We sat there in silence with only the back seat door open, and after a few seconds I started the car again, and my wife closed the door and we drove the rest of the way to the gas station. We reported this incident but by then obviously this crazy woman was long gone. The police took our statements but it was clear

that they didn't expect to find her. To this day I have no idea who that woman was or where she came from. I thought maybe she was a meth addict or something and I remember for a while after that I was looking up crimes in the area but I never found anything that even remotely fit that description. All I know is that we were lucky to get out of that situation alive. This was one of the worst experiences of my life and even though I was happy to get out physically unharmed, I still think about it and it makes me sick knowing that somewhere out there, that wild woman is most likely terrorizing someone else. To be continued... the names for anonymity, and this is also a burner account and will be the only post that I send to you under this account. You see, I was with my girlfriend, we'll call her Casey, for four years

at the time of this story. We both loved the outdoors, from hiking, fishing, picnics, you name it. We loved taking a drive to a random park and just exploring. One Saturday morning, we decided to take a hike. It was a decent drive for us, so I brought our camping gear just in case we decided to camp or sleep in the car instead of driving home. Also, depending on the weather, we might just suck it up and drive home because neither of us wanted to sleep in the rain, even if it was in the car. The hike started out peaceful and enjoyable, with the melody of the running water, the birds, bugs, and other woodland animals. It's what drew us outdoors in the first place, that escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

It was an escape for both of us to have peace of mind and clear our heads. We usually spent most of the time talking about our future and what we wanted, a wedding, what type of neighborhood we wanted to live in, the house, and all the other things that go on in the next chapter of life. We would go on about our dream scenarios, such as where we want to establish a hometown, but also somewhere to go and escape the winters, and how not having kids would hopefully free us up financially to accomplish that someday. It's hard to explain, but I felt like we had our best conversations when we were hiking. Now, as we sunk deeper into the woods, I got a weird feeling of paranoia. I felt like the peaceful sounds that surrounded us

had changed somehow. The animals had a different tune or vibration, and the water that had passed up a long time ago turned into sounds that resembled whispers, and I felt like I was being followed and that someone was trying to get my attention at the same time. I quickly snapped out of it and went on with whatever conversation we were having at the time. I started getting tired and asked if we could take a break. I was surprised that I needed a break and figured that I just didn't have enough water that day, being dehydrated. After the break, I noticed a shift in Casey's mood and mannerisms. She seems way more quiet than usual and grumpy. I brushed it off and assumed that she was probably just tired as well and I tried to continue a positive topic of conversation to cheer her up.

Not long after she turned grumpy, she then turned into an outright jerk. Every comment I make is met with a rude or sarcastic comment, which at first made me think that she was kidding, but I quickly learned that she wasn't. I asked her if she wanted to turn around or take a break or just continue quietly, anything to try and get a gauge of how I could make this situation better. But then we hit a very silent phase. She wouldn't communicate with me at all. I started trying to recall if I did or said anything that would have made her upset,

but I honestly couldn't think of anything. Then as we get about as deep as we wanted to go on her hike, Casey has an absolute manic breakdown and begins screaming and crying at the same time. As I try to approach her to ask what's going on, she becomes violent, starts flailing her arms, one of which actually makes direct contact with my temple and knocks my glasses off. Now I'm pretty much legally blind without my glasses so needless to say that I need to quickly find them or I can't see anything. I also want to mention here that this is completely out of character for Casey. She wasn't that type of erratic person. I'm panicking on the ground trying to find my

glasses like Velma while Casey is still flailing her arms and now running and screaming in the opposite direction. Thankfully, I quickly find my glasses and get up and chase after her. I catch up to her and she seems completely out of it. Her eyes don't seem glazed over, but they seem different. Like she's there, but she isn't there. I know that may sound weird, but that's the best way I can explain it. At this point, she has stopped screaming and acting violently towards me. I sat her down and made her drink some water. She still isn't talking much, but seems a little more settled down.

Once I determine that she can walk, we start making our way down the trail back to the car. It seems as though the more we move and the further we get from her manic breakdown, the more back to normal she gets. She's now starting to talk to me and asks if she remembers what happened. She's telling me that she has no recollection and becomes embarrassed and apologetic for her episode. As we get about half a mile from the car, she seems completely back to normal. I'm still struggling to rationalize what happened. I have never, ever seen her act like that in the four years we had been together at that point.

And we had been through happy times and also the most sad and stressful times of our lives. She was a big believer in the supernatural, so she was convinced that something dark had taken over her body. I didn't buy that, though. I knew that there had to be some kind of rational explanation. I did some research and found out that in those woods, there are actually some plants that can really mess you up. I'm thinking that she must have just come in contact with something, somehow, and maybe that's what caused the episode Some of these plants can actually cause mania, fever and even hallucinations and it got me thinking, maybe I came into contact with them as well

and that's what made me feel anxious earlier that day And without having an answer to that question, I've just chosen the simple solution and that's to simply never hike there again. Has anyone else ever experienced something similar? And would you mind sharing your thoughts if you have? Did you know that many products for pregnant women do not have their own clinical trials for safety or efficacy? That's because pregnant women are often excluded from clinical studies. Ritual is aiming to set a new standard with their Essential Prenatal Multivitamin. It's the number one best-selling prenatal and the only leading prenatal backed

by its own human clinical trial. Essential Prenatal is proven to deliver key nutrients, including folate, biotin, and vitamin D during pregnancy. taking essential prenatal had a lower overall cortisol level during pregnancy than those taking a leading prenatal plus it's designed to be gentle on the stomach ritual doesn't just have your back they have the receipts get 25 off at ritual.com slash clinical these statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Some of my fondest memories as a child are my mother taking me to Girl Scouts. It's funny how certain things stick out over others.

I don't remember the cookies, but I remember my mom putting the badges on my uniform. I'm not sure if specific things stick in my memories more than others because I lost my mother, and this was one of the main activities we did together, or if it was my passion and eagerness for learning as a young girl. Either way, the Girl Scouts has always been a big part of my life. Into adulthood, I have been a consistent volunteer, even though I have not yet been blessed with children of my own to share these experiences with. The story I'm sharing with you all today is one that I haven't ever put down on paper, and so please bear with me while I do my best to tell you it.

It was one of the annual camping trips for the troop where we would have food, activities, hiking, and a number of other things to keep the girls occupied. I always helped with food and some of the arts and craft type of activities. I would use my own money to purchase snacks and approved food items and try to research something fun for the kids to do if they didn't want to participate in some of the more woodsy options. When I was younger, I always felt out of place and would have preferred something more art centric to make me feel more comfortable and ease into the trip. This trip started just like any other. The leaders of the excursion were mostly comprised of mothers of the children and other volunteers like myself. One of the first things we did with the morning daylight

was a hike. We always started off these trips with a hike. One, because the kids were super excited and this would allow them to see their surroundings and two, we knew that it would most likely make them tired for later which would hopefully amount to a good night's sleep. The start of this hike was no different from any of the others. It was standard and safe, which is exactly what you would want for a trip like this. There was buzzing from the children's excitement, but suddenly I felt everything go really quiet. I felt like my sinuses and ears were plugged and all I could hear was buzzing. After a few seconds, I came to and looked around to take

an inventory of the girls, and that's when I noticed that Cindy was missing. I walked briskly to the line of children looking for Cindy but don't see her anywhere. Trying not to cause too much panic or concern, I start calling her name and walking even further forward to see if she had wandered up with another group. I bumped into one of the mothers and asked if she had seen Cindy. She must have seen the fear in my eyes because as she said no, she immediately walked back with me and began calling Cindy's name. It had been a few minutes now and we had alerted everyone walking to stay still as we did an inventory to find Cindy and see if anyone else was missing. I estimate about five minutes had elapsed and real, genuine terror

was beginning to set in. We were considering contacting the authorities to say that a child was missing and just as we were getting ready to call, we found Cindy, nonchalantly walking a little bit off the trail in the woods. I ran over to her to see if she was okay and she seemed completely fine. I took inventory of her and she looked okay and didn't seem scared, startled, or even a bit out of place. I held her hand and a few people yelled to all the girls to stay in a single file line and not wander off as we proceeded back to camp. Now Cindy was normally the shy, quiet type. She was humming and making a lot of conversation with me,

which was completely out of character for her. I playfully asked her what put her in such a good mood and she said, The friend I made in the woods. They warned me about the man in that red cave. I paused. Really confused, I asked. What do you mean? Who did you meet in the woods?

Did anyone touch you? Did they hurt you? She just kept looking at me with this really strange smile, saying that she had made a new friend and that they were nice and wouldn't hurt her. Everything always went back to staying away from that man in the red cave. At this point, I was getting goosebumps, trickles on my neck. I don't remember what else I asked or her exact responses. I was just making sure that she was okay and hadn't really encountered someone in the woods that would put her or others in danger. I started to think to myself, had she really seen something or was her imagination just running wild with the intrigue of the limitless woods around us?

I had trouble getting comfortable that night falling in and out of restless sleep thinking about some man in a red cave. Nothing of further incident happened that weekend thankfully, and everyone went home safe and happy. I had eventually put the experience deep out of my mind to where it had been years since I had thought about it, and that was until we returned to that same forest to do another camping retreat. Initially, I didn't remember until a night when I was sitting outside again having trouble sleeping, and I saw a little girl getting up. I asked if she was okay and if she needed to go to the bathroom or needed help with anything.

She said she was fine and was just having trouble sleeping. I told her that I too had trouble sleeping and sometimes it's difficult to get rest when we aren't at home in our own beds. She said that that wasn't the problem. She said she was having bad dreams. She said her friend kept waking her up to tell her that she needed to go see the man in the red cave. And my heart sank. I actually temporarily lost hearing in that moment, and I asked her, who was the friend asking you to go to the

red cave? And she couldn't articulate so it was hard to discern if it was someone in the tent waking her up and telling her or if she was really just having a bad dream. But hearing about the man in the red cave again, after all these years, that couldn't have been coincidence. I put the girl to bed and told her to let me know if she was woken up again. I didn't hear from her for the rest of the night. I also didn't sleep at all that night. Not even five minutes. I went home the next day and I have never returned to that spot. Again. spot again. A few years ago, I spent that summer working as a lifeguard at a resort nestled deep in the mountains.

The place wasn't exactly a tourist hotspot, but it had a steady stream of visitors. A lot of people were just looking to get away from the noise of city life, hike a few trails, and soak in the peace and quiet of the mountain area. The resort was spread out, with a main hotel, some cabins scattered around the property, and a pool that, on most days, was more about lounging than swimming. A few years ago, I was working on a lazy afternoon, the kind where the sun hangs high and the most exciting thing to do is sip on an ice cold drink while you drift in and out of a half nap. I was on lifeguard duty at the pool, making sure no one did anything stupid. The usual crowd was there. It was mostly married couples and young adults celebrating events, specifically a

bachelorette party. But then, I noticed a guy hanging around the fence that separated the pool area from the rest of the resort. He was dressed for swimming and he was just standing there, watching that group of young women celebrating that bachelorette party. The women were sunbathing and standing around the shallow end of the pool. At first, I really didn't think much of it. People get curious and it wasn't uncommon for someone to come over and ask about pool hours or how to get a guest pass. But this guy wasn't asking questions. He just stood there, watching the women. And he started talking to them, but they seemed to be doing their best to ignore him. I couldn't hear

what he was saying but I could tell from the way that they were avoiding eye contact and shifting uncomfortably that they weren't interested in whatever he was saying. After a few minutes of this I decided to step in. I walked over to the edge of the pool trying to keep things casual and I just called out in this sort of calm voice, asking him if he had a pool key. And the guy turned to look at me, and his face was just sort of expressionless. For a moment, I thought he was going to argue with me, but instead, he just shrugged and mumbled something under his breath before walking away. The women gave me these sort of relieved smiles, and one of them, this brunette with one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen, actually waved me over. And she seemed really chipper and a very sincere voice. She said,

thank you for that. He was really starting to creep us out. I was trying to keep it cool and be confident, so I told him it was no problem. I was just doing my job. I felt like an idiot saying that, like I'm some sort of Captain America type superhero. But thankfully, they didn't think that I sounded dumb because right after that, they actually introduced themselves. The woman talking called herself Abby and then pointed to the rest of the girls. And there was Rachel, Claire, Danny, and Bree. I remember all of them, and they were celebrating Bree's bachelorette party. And we chatted for a bit. They were staying in one of the cabins for the weekend

and as it turned out, they were planning a little get-together that night. They invited me to join them and being a single guy with not much else to do, I figured, why not? And later that evening, I headed over to their cabin. The sun was setting and the temperature was drastically cooling down. The cabin was cozy with a small porch and view that overlooked the woods. Inside, the girls had set up drinks and snacks and music was playing softly in the background. It was just the six of us and the vibe was relaxing and very easy going. I guess they did invite a few more guys that they had met early in the afternoon, but I was the only one who actually showed up.

We talked a bit and laughed and after a couple of drinks, some of the girls started to get a bit adventurous. Bree, the one friend, suggested a night hike. I wasn't really thrilled about that idea, but I didn't want to be a killjoy so I just went along with it. Not because I was scared, but because I work there. I know what kind of animals lurk in those woods at night, and I'm not a huge fan. But we grabbed some flashlights and headed out into the woods, sticking to a trail that looped around the resort. As we walked, the usual nighttime sounds surrounded us. There were loud crickets, the occasional rustling of leaves, you know, typical forest sounds. But after a while, I started hearing something else too. It was quiet at first, like someone was walking at a distance behind us, but

every time I turned around, I saw nothing but darkness. Eventually, Abby looked visibly scared, and very nervously she asked if we had heard anything. Then we all stopped, listening intently, and there it was again. It was like erratic and rapid movement somewhere nearby in the darkness. This wasn't just the typical sounds of wind blowing through the trees, but something that sounded more deliberate. We all looked at each other, and that's when Rachel said that she had had enough. She and Bree decided to head back to the cabin and I didn't blame them. The rest of us followed, keeping the pace quick,

and by the time we made it back, the mood had shifted. The fun, carefree energy from earlier was gone and it was replaced by a very nervous tension. We locked the doors and tried to shake off the feeling of being watched, but it was not easy. We sat around for a while, trying to just laugh it all off, but it was not easy. We sat around for a while trying to just laugh it all off, but there was just something different about the entire evening. At least speaking for myself, I couldn't shake that feeling of someone or something out in

the woods with us. And in a moment of monumental stupidity, Danny and Bree decided to go back out side. Several minutes later, we heard footsteps outside the cabin. We turned down the music and started to intently listen. It sounded like soft footsteps circling the place. Each step was very slow. We could hear the wood creak with each step, and it didn't sound like footsteps of Danny and Bree. These were heavy and methodical footsteps.

Rachel, who had been the most rattled by the hike, froze in that moment and asked, did you guys lock the back door? I shot up from my seat and ran towards the back door. I was so scared but I was trying to appear braver than I felt. I grabbed a flashlight for some reason and headed to that back door, checking the lock. It was secure, but I just knew someone was out there. I could only see a little bit outside that door window and it was completely possible that someone was standing just outside my view. As I turned back toward the group, I heard a loud crash from the front of the cabin. Before I could react, Danny and Bree

came barreling into the living room screaming that someone had been chasing them in the woods. I moved toward the door, hoping to calm them down. I was standing in the doorway and before I closed the door, I looked out to the front of the cabin and that's where I saw him. This guy was running straight at me, a hood pulled over his face. He takes me to the ground in a moment, and I felt the air rush out of my lungs as he knocked me to the floor. He was strong, stronger than I'd expected, and he was reaching for something from his waistband. I couldn't tell what it was, but I assumed reaching back there for something wasn't good for me. All I knew was that I had to fight back, but I was struggling to get him off of me.

And just as I thought I was done, I heard a loud thud, and the weight on top of me had just shifted. Looking up, I see Abby standing over the both of us, holding a golf club, and her face was pale, but determined. She hit him hard on the side of the head, and he was completely out cold. Instantly, we called the police, who surprisingly showed up quickly given the resort's pretty remote location. As it turns out, this guy was the new maintenance man, someone who'd started working at the resort just a few days earlier. You see, he'd been using his position to scope out the place, and God knows what he had planned for that night. Obviously, we pressed charges, and he was arrested on the spot. If that girl didn't act quickly, I may not be sitting here writing this.

With all that going down, it still blows my mind that some people out there in the world are just that evil. This man appeared to have no other motives than just bringing harm to me and those girls. The End College projects are supposed to be straightforward, right? You choose a topic, you do the research, put it all together, and maybe learn something along the way. When my friend Carlos and I signed up for a class, we thought it would be fun, a break from the usual grind. The assignment was simple, create a short documentary. But being the overachievers that we were, we decided to tackle something bigger, something that would set our project apart from the rest, and most importantly,

something that was interesting to us. And that's how we ended up in the middle of this supposedly cursed forest, not far from where we live. Our goal was to debunk the local legends that had kept people out of those trees for decades. The forest was beautiful in its own way. It had tall, lush trees, and a special kind of quiet that was almost therapeutic. But that silence had a weight to it. It was like the forest was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The stories about the forest go back generations, I've heard. Native American tribes used to live there and the forest was supposedly sacred ground. You know, the same typical setup as

every other cursed story in the United States. But then came the stories of ghosts, demons, and dark rituals. In my opinion, I believe it was just old folklore and myths that people said happened deep in those woods. And those myths got blown out of proportion and spread through the generations. Most people avoid the place, and those who didn't usually came back talking about negative energy and all that garbage. In case you can't tell yet, I'm not a believer in the paranormal, or really energies or anything like that, and neither was Carlos. We didn't just buy that the woods were cursed. We thought it was all just superstitions and campfire stories.

And that's why we thought that this was the perfect subject for a documentary. A chance to peel back the layers of folklore and show the world, or at least our class, that these woods were just another patch of trees. We spent the first few hours filming the scenery, capturing shots of the sunlight filtering through the trees, the dense foliage, and even some of the caves we found scattered throughout the area. It really was objectively a beautiful forest. There was one cave in particular that caught our attention. It wasn't deep, but the way the light played off the rocks made it perfect for the eerie vibe that we were going for in our film.

As we set up the camera inside, it felt like something had changed. The sun started to shift behind the clouds, and it almost felt like the sounds of nature started to quiet down. Right at that moment, Carlos stopped, and freezing mid-shot, he whispered something in a very scared voice, asking if I heard that. I hadn't heard anything, but the look on his face was enough to make me feel somewhat uncomfortable. We stood there in the dim light of the cave, straining our ears. Then I heard it too. A sort of sound coming from outside.

We had been hearing the wind blow all day, but this was definitely no wind. It was clearly the sound of someone or something approaching the cave. These footsteps would close in slowly and then they just fade into the distance as if they were running away when they got close to the cave. We exchanged these very nervous glances at each other and we spent the whole day laughing off the stories but at that moment I was not afraid to admit that I had felt a twinge of fear. My mind raced with a bunch of different scenarios. Maybe it was just another hiker or some animal passing by. But the longer we stood there, the more I started to doubt those rational explanations.

Trying to keep a steady voice, I told him that we should wrap things up as we got enough footage. He didn't argue. We quickly packed up the camera and gear. We both tried to play it off as if though we were cool, but it was obvious we were both moving pretty frantically. As we stepped out of the cave, the forest seemed darker than it should have been since the sun had started dipping in and out behind the clouds. The feeling of dread was overwhelming and with every step we took back toward the car, the sense of dread grew. We hadn't gone far when the sound came again,

this time louder and much closer. We stopped and tried to assess the sounds. We were listening as the rustling morphed into the unmistakable sound of footsteps. We turned and that's when I saw them. Two dark figures moving swiftly through the trees, their shapes blurred by the shadows. And we both started to run. I turned back several times and it was impossible to tell what was chasing us. I was refusing to believe that it was some dark entity, but I truly just couldn't tell in that moment as my heart was racing. Carlos and I were running awkwardly through the forest trying not to run into trees or trip on the roots and it seemed almost like these people were gliding through the trees. The faster we ran, the louder

the footsteps grew until it felt like they were right on top of us. I risked a final glance over my shoulder and got my clearest view of these people. Not only were they still chasing us, but they were closing in very fast. They were clearly human-shaped, but there was something just off about them, something in the way they moved. I couldn't make out any details other than that they were shaped like people. They clearly were dressed in all black and they moved so effortlessly through the trees. Carlos could see that I was slowing down since I was looking back at these people and he shouted for me to hurry up and we made our final push to the car. We practically dove into the car, slamming the doors shut behind us, Carlos fumbling for his keys, his hand shaking and when he finally turned that ignition on, the engine roared to life.

And relief flooded through me until I looked down and saw the dashboard light up with some warning saying, Tire pressure low. Carlos looked confused but didn't think too much about it. He just threw the car into gear. But the moment we tried to move, the vehicle lurched awkwardly. Our tires were flat. All of them. I stuck my head out the window and saw that the tires looked as if they'd been slashed, and before we could fully process what was happening, movement caught my eye. I looked up and there they were. It was three people, not just two, emerging from the tree line walking slowly towards us. My stomach dropped as I realized that they were the same blurred shapes that I was seeing before.

And these weren't some ghostly apparitions, but actual humans, dressed in solid black from head to toe, their faces hidden behind featureless masks. And these masks looked very similar to ski masks, maybe a shiesty if you're familiar with those. Just complete black though. The car was locked, but that did little to calm the rising panic inside me as they drew closer. Carlos frantically tried to dial for help, but the signal was very weak, and the call continued failing to connect. Finally, Carlos got through to someone. He was screaming for help, giving his location, and then we lost the call again as it dropped. I could see the figures now more clearly than ever. One of them had a more slender build and

smaller hands that had glittering nail polish. A detail that should have been insignificant but somehow made the situation even more strange. I almost wish that it was some dark entity instead of a person. One of the people started to bang on the window while the other two started to kick the doors and bang on the hood. Their fists continued to slam against the doors, rattling the car with every shot. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to think and come up with some kind of plan, but the situation was paralyzing. One of them, the smaller one with that nail polish started pounding harder on the window, the glass beginning to crack with the

force. I could hear them laughing, which was just more of a reminder of how horrible this situation truly was. The glass felt like it was going to give. I knew it, and there was nothing we could do. But then, through all this chaos, we saw lights appear. Sirens in the rearview mirror were a welcoming sight for once in my lifetime. These masked figures froze. Their laughter stopped as they turned to look, and as the vehicle was approaching I was able to make out that it was a park ranger.

And without a word, these people bolted back into the woods, disappearing as quickly as they appeared. The ranger pulled up beside us, his face sort of a mixture of concern and confusion as he got out of the car and approached us. He asked if we were okay and we nodded, still too rattled to speak. The ranger led us to his vehicle, his radio crackling into life as he called for backup, and we left the car behind, the relief of being away from those woods almost indescribable. Back at that station, a bunch of cops showed up and we gave our statements,

detailing everything that had happened. While we were still there, the police finally caught up with one of those people. It turned out to be a large dude with a goatee and a tattoo of a rose on each side of his temple, the stems curling down his cheek and down his neck. Perhaps the worst part of the story is when the officers asked him during questioning why he was doing what he was doing, and apparently he just smiled and said, because I could, and I wanted to. His voice contained no remorse or empathy, and he seemed almost happy about it from what they were saying. We never found out who the other two weirdos were happy about it from what they were saying. We never found out who the other two weirdos were, never found out if they were part of some gang or just a bunch of sickos, and honestly I'm not sure I want to. The thought of them still out

there just lurking in those woods waiting for their next victims is enough to keep me awake at night. After all of this, Carlos and I prove that the woods are not haunted, but that doesn't mean that monsters don't inhabit them. I grew up in central London and led a very urban existence during my childhood and teenage years. Then one day, I saw one of those celebrity survival programs, the kind where they put some soap opera star through some grueling survival scenario. It got me thinking, did I have what it takes to survive in some kind of disaster or post-apocalyptic situation? Or would I struggle and starve like some scared little Londoner, lost without a branch of prêt-à-manger in which to buy a dizzyingly expensive sandwich. I tried to talk to my mates into coming with me, but they all thought that I sounded mental.

When I first proposed a camping trip, they all pictured a clean and tidy five-pound-a-night campsite with a pub nearby. But when I told them that I was planning something a little less leisurely, they dropped out one by one. I'd already come across the whole solo camping thing online, so I knew that it was a thing people did. It just became a question of biting the bullet and heading out on my own to see if I had what it takes. Well, turns out I was a little bit tougher than I thought I was, because although I didn't exactly bit tougher than I thought I was. Because although I didn't exactly thrive in Ashdown Forest during that first trip, I didn't die, and I actually really enjoyed myself too. I'm not going to give you all the cliches about feeling one with nature or how beautiful but brutal it is to live like our primordial ancestors.

Don't get me wrong, they definitely apply, but for me, it was how it made all my first world problems seem like just that. Stuck waiting at a busy bar for two pints and a packet of crisps? At least you're warm, and you're dry, and you're indoors. Pizza delivery driver taking the mick to show up? At least he's on his way with hot appetizing food that's not just come out of a can. I felt like it was great for my mental health, having everything

put into perspective like that, and it was also pretty cool that I got to practice some legitimate survival skills. When I got back, my mates assumed that I'd be like, never again boys, that was horrible, but to their surprise, I told them that I couldn't wait to get back out there. I went on about three or four more solo trips over the course of about two years, going to different forests each time. Then finally, I decided to plan a trip to Scotland, or more specifically, to a place called Galloway Forest Park. It's only a few hours drive over the border, and it's a very accessible forest, but it's unique in that it features some of the most remote wildlands in the entire British Isles. Picture a giant ring road, 15 to 20 miles apart in

places, and in the center is nothing but wilderness, which means once you're in the middle, it's about two days walk across extremely rough terrain to find the nearest functional road, let alone any real civilization. When I first read about it, it seemed like the ideal place to really put myself to the test. So the first chance I got, I booked a few days off work, took out a small loan to be able to afford the train up there. I'm joking, but we're not far off it seems, and then off I went to Galloway on a damp September morning. I drove all the way up to a small town named Newton Stewart and then spent the night at a small backpacker's hostel called Glenmolick Lodge, where I paid a few extra quid for them to watch my car for a few days until I got back from my wild camp. Like my mates back home, the people who owned the

lodge also thought that I was mental, not so much for what I was doing, but where I was doing it, and the fact that I was choosing to do it alone. They reminded me that where I was going, there'd be no mobile phone signal and only a ranger's lodge up near a place called Burnhill. Everywhere else was complete wilderness, meaning if I got hurt, the chances of running into someone who could actually fetch help were as minimal as minimal could be. They made no bones about telling me that what I was doing was foolish, but to me, the risks only added to the challenge. Then, on top of that, I was most definitely experienced enough to handle all the fieldcraft and navigation, so after a good night's sleep in a soft, warm bed, off I went to spend four nights in a sleeping bag,

hiking around one of the wildest and most remote places in the whole of the United Kingdom. I used to get excited about each and every one of my wild camping trips, but if I'm being honest, that excitement wouldn't be anywhere near as intense if it wasn't mixed with a dash of fear. Being on your own, out there in the middle of nowhere, there's a feeling of vulnerability that comes with it. We don't have many hunters or dangerous predatory animals in the UK, so I know it's a damned sight safer than hiking in the American wilderness. But there's still this feeling of it being you against the world, and sometimes that can feel very spooky indeed, especially after dark. I remember on day two of four, while walking towards a spot

on my map marked Silver Flow, I started to wonder just how isolated I really was. It was mid-September, so hardly prime hiking season, so by the afternoon of day two, I reckon that I was at least a full day's walk away from even having the chance of seeing another living person. That kind of seclusion was a bit nerve-wracking, but that was the idea, and ironically, it brought on this feeling of absolute freedom. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, without anyone being able to impede or intervene. It felt a bit post-apocalyptic, a taste of what it might feel like to be the last man on earth, and the landscape of wild, rural Scotland made it feel even more dramatically isolated and alien. Towards the end of the second day, I started looking for my second spot to camp.

The land in front of me was mostly grass and small boulders, and there wasn't a single patch of trees in sight from miles and miles ahead of me. I needed trees for cover, to make a shelter, collect firewood, stuff like that, so I got out my little laminated map of Galloway and started looking for a patch of trees. According to my map, I had to climb this massive ridgeline with an even taller hill at the end of it labeled Merrick. It looked like a hell of a slog and it was, but I didn't have much of a choice unless I wanted to get caught out in the open at nightfall, so off I went. I remember getting near to the top of the ridge and being so exhausted that I stopped to take a rest.

You have to remember, I was hiking with my life on my back. Food, water, shelter, tools, changes of clothes. Even when you try to pack light, you still end up with aching shoulders. I sat down on the hillside and looked out over the land below me. Bare, rocky, and completely treeless. Not a single thing moved down there and I could see for miles and miles, and then the same could be said for the other side of the ridge too. The views were incredible, and although there were, thankfully, a few patches of trees, there wasn't a single person, vehicle, or even road in sight for as far as the eye could see. I'd never been anywhere quite like it. The English countryside is set up so that even when you go to quite remote places, there's still a capillary system of winding lanes, little cottages, and even the occasional country pub.

But in the Scottish countryside, there really are actual, barely-touched wilderness areas, and it almost feels like you've stepped back in time. I felt completely and utterly alone out there, and it was everything I had ever hoped it could be. But as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. After a quick rest, I made my way over the ridgeline and then pushed on for about half a mile towards a large patch of trees. Once I got there, I set up my shelter, which consisted of little more than a waterproof poncho strung up between two tree trunks, and then set about making a campfire and cooking some dinner. All of that took a hell of a lot of time, but by the time I was finished with dinner, I had maybe a half an hour's worth of daylight to collect some firewood, make myself a cup of cocoa,

and then I had to try and get some sleep if I wanted to be up again for six in the morning. The last thing I did before I lay down on my bedroll under my shelter and climbed into my sleeping bag was place my mug of cocoa down at the edge by my campfire. It was still lit, the fire I mean, and it was kind of an experiment to see if the remains of the fire would keep the last of my cocoa warm. There was only about a fifth of the cup left, and it would be no loss if it had gone cold by the morning, so I placed the cup carefully down next to the stones that I'd used to ring the fire, then tried to get some rest. That second night's sleep is always much better than the first. You don't sleep well on the first night of any wild camping trip because

there's still that shock of capture feeling where you're not quite comfortable living outdoors yet. It's not even an experience thing, at least it wasn't with me. Your conscious mind is like, wild camping, easy peasy, done this before, but your subconscious overpowers it with, this is a strange place and we don't like it. So no matter how tired you are and no matter how much hiking you've done across hills and marshes and God knows what else, you still can't quite achieve that deep REM sleep that results in you waking up feeling refreshed. But then that second night, you start feeling just that little bit more comfortable sleeping outdoors. Then, combined with

just how bloody knackered you are from your second day's hike, your sleep is faster and you sleep deeper. Needless to say, I felt much better rested than the previous two months. I pulled myself out of my sleeping bag, put my boots on, then as I was tying the laces up, I remembered the smidge of cocoa that I'd left next to the campfire. I'd looked over to the fire, which by then had long since gone out, but the little enamel cup that I'd carried with me was gone. I had one of those, wait, did I wake up and I just don't remember it kind of moments, or I sat and racked my brains for any memory of checking on my little experiment. I was in such a groggy state from having just woken up

that when I saw my mug sitting on a nearby log, just perfectly balanced on the top of it, I honestly thought to myself, I don't remember leaving it there. And then it hit me. I hadn't moved it from near that fire. Someone else had. In the moments following that realization, it was like the whole world changed in a split second.

In one world, I was at peace, feeling well-rested and excited to get on with my day, but in another, I was not alone. I was not at peace, and I was not excited about how I was going to spend the rest of my day. But above all, I felt that I was in danger. I went from casually tying my laces to frantically nodding and tucking them, then I grabbed my knife, stood up, and began looking around to see if anyone was there. It's not a larger knife by any means, but the five-inch folding Victorinox was all that was standing between me in complete defenselessness. I unfolded the blade as I looked around, but I couldn't see anyone. Then, as I was looking, I had this moment of second-guessing myself. My thoughts were going a mile a minute, so I started wondering if I hadn't just managed to freak myself out a little bit. I had no memory of moving the cup but that didn't mean that I didn't if that makes sense. So just to make sure I walked over to the

cup balanced on that fallen log but my head still on a swivel because I'm still not entirely sure if I'm alone or not. Then, when I'm close enough, I had a look at the cup, and I saw something inside of it. The bit of hot chocolate that I'd had left in it was gone, but sitting in the cup was a piece of long grass that someone had tied into little knots up and down the stem. And that was most certainly the work of someone else. It's funny how certain idioms are completely abstract until you personally experience them. Like when people say it was an emotional roller coaster, I used to take that to just mean it was very emotional. But until you've experienced that fluctuation between fear, self-delusion,

confusion, and terror, I feel like you don't really appreciate why people say things like that. I went from perfectly content, to frightened, to slightly calmer but confused, to absolutely terrified when I saw what was in that cup. Someone had put it in there, and they'd obviously spent time tying the blade of grass in delicate little knots, maybe even while they sat right there on that log, watching me sleep like the dead after that long second day's hike. Like their creepy little way of saying hello. I know some people reading this, especially those unfamiliar with the great outdoors, are going to be thinking something along the lines of, so what? Someone came along and moved your cup, what's the big deal? They could have hurt you, they could have robbed you, but they didn't.

They left you a nice little present instead to be funny. Well, that's just the point, isn't it? They could have done anything they bloody well wanted to me. They could have picked up a rock from the ring around my campfire and smashed my head in with it, but then they also could have just buggered off and kept minding their own business. I mean, really think about it. If they had completely pure intentions, why move my stuff around to begin with? It was to say that exact thing I could have done whatever I wanted to you, and I had all the time in the world to do it. If that's someone's idea of a funny prank, then fair play to them, but as a solo wild camper,

having people sneaking around your camp when you're asleep is a big, big no-no. And the danger doesn't so much lie in the act itself as the potential for escalation. If someone was able to sneak up to your camp to maybe steal something or otherwise give you a scare like that happened with me, the chances of it being a one-time thing are very slim. Or rather, you've got to make sure it's just a one-time thing. Maybe if they choose to escalate, you could be in deep trouble. A little bit of a prank could escalate into a big one, or if they felt emboldened and a little less playful, a group of locals would do some serious damage before I got to my knife, at which point the outcome was unthinkable.

But that in turn got me thinking, and this is the kernel of mystery at the core of this whole thing, who the hell just happened to cross me in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night too? The only explanation I can think of is that there was some other solo camper or group of them who came across my shelter while looking for their own place to sleep and decided to mess with me a little bit as a joke. They're the only people who were out there just wandering around random patches of trees, and the forest rangers stationed over five miles away know better than to go wandering around in the dark. I also can't reconcile the fact that only about an hour or so before I made my way into that patch of trees, I got a bloody good look at the areas both ahead of me and behind me,

and I didn't see a single trace of anyone, be it smoke trails, old campsites, or actual people moving around over the wilderness below. So unless someone was moving in and out of the area really quickly like a fast packer or something, I'm pretty sure I'd have seen some trace of them during my arrival or departure. I say all this now like I was thinking it through in the moment, and some of it I was considering, but I was considering it as I was throwing all my stuff back into my bag because there wasn't a cat in hell's chance that I was staying there another night. But therein lay the real problem. I couldn't just leave. I was a day and a half's walk from the

nearest road, and that was if I changed and a half's walk from the nearest road, and that was if I changed my intended course dramatically to reach the nearest highway. Unless I wanted to risk a repeat incident, I'd have to walk all day and all night, but at the end of it, I'd be at a place called Glentral, where I could get a bed and some hot food and then make my way home when I slept off the exhaustion of walking for like 24 hours straight. It didn't sound like it'd be much fun, but it was that, or sleep out in the open for one or maybe two more nights, and there was no chance that I was

about to risk that. The journey to Glen Trull took me westward, back over the ridgeline that I had crossed less than 24 hours before. It gave me another chance to look over miles and miles of almost treeless wilderness which spread across all directions. But once again, I didn't see any sign whatsoever that anyone else was out there with me. I stopped to look around once at the peak and then once again when I got to the bottom, just on the off chance that I caught someone following me over the ridge. But again, there was no one. It was like the entire landscape was dead and I even sat there a few minutes just waiting and watching for any sign of anyone.

It was quite surreal, really. All the times that I'd been wild camping in much less remote places, and I'd never had anyone sneak up on me while I was sleeping, let alone try and deliberately scare me by moving my stuff around. Of all the places I thought something like that might happen, Galloway would have been my very last pick. But then that's what made it so unsettling for me. If I was anywhere else and someone decided to start messing with me,

I'd have some phone signal and probably a few other hikers or campers around to lend a hand. But out there, in arguably the most remote place in the whole of the UK, it was just me and whoever the hell had been walking around my campsite while I was asleep. And I had absolutely no clue where they were or if they were still watching me. The only choice I had was to get the move on again as soon as possible, but I simply cannot overstate the feeling of vulnerability I felt while beginning to walk westward. I was on the opposite side of the ridge, the one with even less cover than the side that I made my camp on. I had miles to walk with nowhere to hide,

and as much as I kept turning around and not seeing anyone there, I was never quite 100% convinced that I wasn't being watched. I walked all day, 13 hours until full dark, until my feet were literally killing me and I could feel the blisters forming on my heels. I stopped once or twice to eat a cereal bar or drink some water but the greater function of those breaks were to get a good look around me and make damn sure that I wasn't being followed. Again, it was easy to see that there

was no one in sight. The horizon was dead for miles around but I had to operate under the assumption that I was being watched. If I didn't, and I put my guard down and tried to camp for the night, I could end up paying a very high price for it. I consider myself very fortunate that I had the foresight to go on some easier solo camps before I attempted Galloway. If I hadn't, there's no chance that I'd have been able to stick to my plan and make it back to civilization without exhausting myself completely. But even with all the experience I had, pushing myself through the night was quite possibly the single most difficult thing I've ever done in my entire life. There were times that I felt so tired that I felt sick, and times when I didn't know if my mind was playing

tricks on me, and there really was someone just feet behind me in the darkness. All I had to go on was my compass for direction, and I had to walk at least half my normal speed to ensure that I didn't go arse over tit and roll an ankle, because then I really would have been rum-tuggered. And I went on and on, for hours on end, until finally I looked over my shoulder to see dawn breaking behind me. But even more of a beautiful sight was seeing no one at all, just an empty space behind me. After I got home I promised myself that I'd be much more careful when it came to camping and hiking, and that just maybe my days of flying solo were well and truly over. I can't say that it wasn't fun while it lasted.

All those trips definitely gave me a confidence that I couldn't have otherwise, but it also gave me a wisdom earned from hard experience. There are some very strange, very creepy people out there, and sometimes I feel like I got away with just a warning. I found your channel a few weeks back, and I saw you took submissions, so this is the scariest true story that I know 100% happened. Six years ago, almost to the day, my best friend's dad went camping up in the Northwest Territories here in Canada to a place called Rolfe Lake. To anyone listening, that might not sound like anything to worry about, but if you knew my friend's dad, you'd know how weird and out of character it was. He left for the territories in September and said that he'd be back within just a few weeks. He hadn't been camping since he was a kid, but the weird thing was he hated outdoor

activities. He was a real indoor cat, liked his doodads and gadgets and stuff, and then all of a sudden, he takes this bizarre interest in camping, buys himself a bunch of equipment, and then boom, one day he announced that he was leaving. The other weird thing is that he took the family's two dogs with him, and this is especially weird because he hated those dogs. The only reason the family had them in the first place was because his wife and kids pestered him daily for years. He refused to walk them, pick up after them. It was a case of, those aren't my dogs, so that's not my job. He barely even liked being in the same room as those smelly old mutts, as he used to put

it. But then just like he seemed to totally change overnight when it came to the camping thing, he did the same things with the dogs. He suddenly decided that he didn't spend enough time with them, and that they deserved to go on an adventure instead of just lying around the house all day waiting to be fed or walked. I mean, I think he's kind of right on that point, but like I said, it was completely out of character for him, to the point that my buddy and his family started to worry that he was going through some kind of midlife crisis. But then, what else could they do other than just leave him be and let him get it out of his system, and then have a talk with him when he got back

about his new strange behavior. But then, he didn't come back when he said he would. In fact, he never came back at all. After he didn't come back on the date that he said he would, my friend's family reported him missing. The cops said a search and rescue team would take a look around Rolfe Lake for any signs of him, but weeks turned into months, and there was no trace of my buddy's dad anywhere. No one wanted to believe that he was dead, especially not my friend or his family, but by the end of March, he'd been missing for more than five months and

people were starting to give up hope. The weather was a big factor, as no one believed that he could survive the winter up there in the territories, especially since he had no experience camping. But then, in early April sometime, a pilot was flying over the area for some reason when they spotted a guy in what looked like two dogs walking near Rolfe Lake. The pilot reported the sighting to someone. I don't think he was an official search and rescue dude, but he must have known about my friend's dad being missing out there, because I heard he reported it ASAP. The RCMP, along with an actual search and rescue team, was then sent to look over the area, and after less than a day of searching, they found his campsite. They found wooden tent poles on the ground, some boating wax, a tent, dog supplies, but the man himself had apparently moved on.

The boating wax thing was another weird aspect because it suggested my friend's dad had sort of a canoe or something with him. My friend's dad had never once gone canoeing, had zero interest in it, to anyone's knowledge, and no one seemed aware of him buying a canoe before he left for the territories. After a second round of searching, the cops told my friend's family that they figured his dad was somewhere in Yellowknife, the largest town up there in the territories. They searched all around Rolfe Lake and found no other traces of my friend's father, and so they moved their search to areas like Yellowknife, but then later to a place called Prince George because apparently he had an old college friend who lived out that way and it was possible that he'd stop by for a visit. But there's no evidence whatsoever that he did that, and unless the friend in Yellowknife is covering for him for some reason, he's telling

the truth when he says that my friend's dad never came by to visit him. But in that case, where did he go, and where is he now? It's kind of brutal to say it out loud or even write it down openly in this case, but pretty much everyone assumes my friend's dad is most probably no longer with us. He went from being resentful of having to take the dogs on walks, to having a sudden interest in camping and canoeing. And unless he'd secretly been mastering survival techniques, which I guess isn't out of the question, then he was probably weighing over his head and didn't realize it until it was too late. One of the things the Mounties told my friend's family was that even in the summertime, the rivers and lakes up in that area stay icy cold all year round. So even in April, with the seasons changing and the snow melting,

it might look like a nice day for a trip downstream. But fall in that water without anyone to drag you out in time, and you might never get out again. They also said that there's a chance wild animals got to his remains, in which case there won't be much left of him to find except his clothes and equipment. But to me, that's just the thing. It all makes much more sense if my friend's dad doesn't want to be found. But no one believes that he's still living out there like some kind of 21st century mountain man. He was a house cat all his life, like I I said and I get that he might have had some radical change of heart but it all just seems so unlikely you know. And I

sometimes think that he got into some kind of accident like the whole freezing cold water thing or that maybe a bear had gotten to him or something and yeah the stuff about him being impossible to find because animals ate him, all that makes sense too. But I don't care how hungry a grizzly bear gets, they don't eat whole ass canoes, and a big colorful canoe seems like it would be way easier to find. I get that they have a big area to cover in terms of search and rescue, but they've been looking for him for I think five years now, not counting 2020 because of everything getting scaled back because of you know what.

I just don't get how in all this time, not a single trace of my friend's dad has ever been found. And as far as other search and rescue efforts have gone, the authorities usually find some kind of evidence within that three to five year timeline. SNR workers find bones, bits of old clothing equipment, and they find all kinds of things that prove someone didn't just disappear without a trace. But they've never found anything belonging to my friend's dad after they found his old campsite. I've heard people say that if fresh snow covered his canoe, then it might be a long time before any trace of him is found.

But the more time that passes, the more it seems like my friend's dad has just disappeared into thin air. And if I find the whole thing as haunting as I do, then I can't even imagine how my friend and his family must be feeling. They put on a brave face, but I know they're still in pain. And they'd do just about anything to get some final and definitive answers. To be continued... my hand at telling the true scary story of something that happened to me during a solo camping trip last fall. I know that might sound stupid of me, a young woman heading out to camp on her lonesome in an estate that's produced 30 confirmed serial killers, but I carry a gun, so there's that. I know it's not complete protection, but it makes me feel so much safer knowing that I have that option for self-defense. And so, it was last October when I decided to head up to Snow Lake. I wanted to de-stress and unwind with some peace, quiet, and nice views, but I also didn't want the trails to be too tough, so Snow Lake seemed

perfect. It's also one of the more popular trails in the Snoqualmie Pass area, and to me it always seemed like a good thing if there were other campers or hikers around because you never know when you're going to need someone's help. I'm so over that I'd choose the bare bullcrap. Like tell me you're not a hiker without telling me you're not a hiker. 99% of people you meet on trails are awesome folks. Even the mountain bikers you run into out there are way nicer than the joggers and cyclists I've met in the city. But I guess on this one particular occasion, I ran into the exception which proves the rule, as they say. I hiked about four or five miles down

the trail before I made my camp, which I made sure to keep out of sight from the main trail for privacy's sake. I was pretty worn out from the hike, so after setting up my tent and unpacking the essentials, then making a campfire and warming up some food, I decided to call it a night at around 9pm. I remember getting into my sleeping bag, then trying to make a kind of pillow out of my pack and rolled up sweater and then nothing. I must have dozed off less than a minute after putting my head down. The next thing I remember is dreaming that my sister and I were in the back of my dad's car. I don't know where we were going, but my sister kept teasing me about a crush that I had and I kept asking my dad to tell her to stop and he wasn't saying anything. And after that,

I have this vivid memory of hearing the sound of a zipper being pulled in the car. It was super loud and I looked around but I couldn't see where it was coming from. And then I suddenly had this super clear split second thought of oh my god I need to wake up, I'm in a dream and there's a zipper of my tent that I'm hearing. The sudden transition from the light of the sunlit backseat to the darkness of my tent is something I will never forget, because I went from unconsciousness to consciousness with that same singular thought. Get your gun, and get it quick. I put hours in on the range with this thing, and it's only a 9mm M&P shield, but it's small, easy to conceal,

and very easy to use. The only trouble was, I'd never been in a situation where I thought that I would need to use it, and my shooting instructor was right. The adrenaline dump is so, so real. Even with all the hours I'd put in, it was a struggle to operate it and bring it to bear and all the while, the zipper of my tent is slowly coming down. You could hear that zip noise just about drowning out the sound of me arming my M&P. At least I'm assuming whoever it was didn't hear it because the unzipping didn't stop until I spoke up. I probably sounded scared out of my mind as I said, but I still tried to sound as fierce as possible as I said something along the lines of, get away from my tent if you don't want to die right here. And the zipping stopped. But the silence that followed meant whoever was out there hadn't moved. I then told them that I had a gun pointed at that entrance,

and if I didn't hear the sound of them getting up and walking away in the next five seconds, I was going to start shooting. Then there was movement. I heard someone stand, then heard them take a few steps back before their pace picked up, and I figured they'd started running. I mean, I'd run if someone in the woods just threatened to shoot me, but they didn't. Instead, I heard them walking away, their footfalls getting lighter and lighter as they got further away and then silence. I couldn't tell if the silence was because their footsteps just faded out or because they'd stopped walking and were now just hanging back from a distance and waiting to see what I'd do next. The thought paralyzed me and I lay there,

gun pointed at the zipper for what must have been minutes before I finally found the will to move again. Since I was only five miles into the trail, I still had some spotty cell signal, presumably from a tower back near the highway, so I was able to call 911 for my tent. The dispatch guy said that he could notify the King County Sheriff's Office, but that he could get a couple of forest rangers out to me on ATVs within 20 minutes, he thought. He said not to be alarmed, I heard their engines roaring in the darkness, and to hear it as more like a cavalry coming. And it really did sound like that when the rangers did finally show up, but that was a long

20 minutes or so that I had to wait there in the darkness, listening out for any signs of footsteps coming closer again. When the rangers showed up, I told them what happened and they took a look around to make sure that there was nobody lurking nearby. They couldn't see anyone, but they did find the person's trail leading off into the trees, and so if they were hiding out and waiting for me to let my guard down, they weren't doing it nearby. But that didn't make me feel any better or safer, so I took the rangers up on their offer to give me a ride back towards where my car was parked so I could drive home. It was the first time anything like that has happened to me, and for the record, nothing like that has ever happened since, but I was still really shaken up at the time, and not even for the reasons you might expect. I don't know if you've ever been close to shooting someone before, and I'm sure you

don't need anyone to tell you this, but it was not a pleasant experience. I'd love to be that girl who can sound all badass telling everyone how cold she was getting ready to smoke some pervert trying to sneak into her tent at night, but I wasn't ready. And for all the preparation I'd done, I don't think I'd ever have been ready to take someone's life, no matter what they were doing. My instructor had mentioned that too, how the fear sometimes leads to reasoning. You think pulling out a gun is going to make someone stop and throw their hands up like in the movies, but the real world isn't like that at all. If you're going to pull your gun on someone, he said,

you better be prepared to use it because if you don't, there's a chance they'll take it from you and use it on you instead. I don't know how far I'd have let that guy go before pulling that trigger. I really don't. I'd definitely have shot him if he tried to grab me, or if I saw him holding a weapon of his own, but I think I'd have literally begged and pleaded with him to stop before I finally put that bullet in him. I think the whole thing shook

me up so much. It wasn't just because it was scary for me, and it was very scary. It was because it made me really think for the first time about the possibility of taking someone's life. With the self-defense classes I took, the instructor was awesome, but looking back he only ever said things like neutralizing the target or ending the threat. And I know that was to try and shield me mentally from the realities of what I was doing. I was practicing to kill someone. And let me tell you, that feels a whole lot different than actually getting ready to go through with it. My girlfriend has a story from back when she was in her 20s, but since she's not a listener and doesn't want to write it up,

I have actually asked permission from her to tell it. She grew up in Buffalo, New York, and she went to college in NYU, so after discovering that she had a few free days in Buffalo, New York, and she went to college at NYU, so after discovering that she had a few free days in October, she drove back to Buffalo to go glamping with some friends. She and four of her friends, who were all either 19 or 20, drove out to a campsite complete with cabins, campfire rings, and picnic tables. Then as they were unpacking their stuff, my girl and her friends saw that they had some neighbors who just so happened to be four guys of similar ages. They got talking, then one

of the guys asked if they wanted to share a few beers come sundown once both groups had lined their stomachs. My girl and her friends said sure, then when the time came, they met up around the girl's picnic table to get the party started. As the night progressed, things got wilder and wilder, but everyone was still having fun and getting to know each other. Then at one point, one of the guys goes into their cabin and walks back out with a gun that he claims was his dad's. He's waving it around like some jerk-off and everyone is telling him to go put it away because there's literally no worse idea than messing around with a gun when you're drunk. The guy with the gun starts telling them to chill, how the gun isn't even loaded, and to prove it, he points into the air and pulls the trigger two or three times.

No shots were fired, but the group still aren't happy about the fact that he's waving a gun around and being a general douche about bringing it with him. They're telling him to go back into the cabin and put the gun away, and that he should probably try to get some sleep too because he was way too drunk, exhausted from the day's events, and acting way out of the ordinary. The guy with the gun takes major offense to this, I guess, and after proving the first two chambers of his gun were empty, he puts it to his head and pulls the trigger. Now, this next part of the story is where almost everyone guesses what happened next.

And 99.99% of the time, they're dead on the money. That third chamber of the revolver, the one he pulled the trigger on after putting it to his head, had a bullet in it. Hell knows how it got there, if he loaded it and forgot, if someone else did, or he didn't properly check before he threw it into his bag or whatever, but regardless of what happened, the guy blew his brains out right there in front of everyone. As you can imagine, the scene descended into chaos, but my girlfriend said the things she remembers more than anything were the screams and the crying. She and another girl focused on giving the guy medical attention and directing 911 to the cabins,

but my girl said the first day the other girl performed was just that, performative. She knew the guy was dead, or rather he wouldn't survive the night, but she had to do something to try and calm everyone down before the situation got even worse somehow. She said it took like 30 minutes to get the cops and EMS out there, and by that time, the mood was completely desolate. She said one guy was almost catatonic, like he was so freaked out at losing a friend like that that he completely shut down and stopped talking completely. Another person, one of her friends, wouldn't stop crying. But she wasn't just crying. She was bawling her eyes out non-stop, as if every time she calmed down a little,

she saw the whole thing in her head again, and the cycle started all over. For quite some time afterwards, my girl and all her friends displayed symptoms of what the doctors called acute stress disorder, which from what I could gather is kind of like a precursor to PTSD. It's a lot of the same symptoms, but if they persist for more than a few months, then you officially have PTSD.

Thank God, three out of four girls, my girlfriend included, got better after a few days and a few weeks. But the girl who couldn't stop crying, she was on medication for PTSD for literally years afterwards, and even today she says that night ruined her entire life. The whole thing had made her very anti-gun, and it's definitely flavored my own opinions on all of that kind of stuff. I'm still a believer in the second amendment and I'm a gun owner myself, but I feel like there's a real gray area on the rules surrounding firearm ownership. Having guns in the hands of a good sensible person is a good thing and it always has been and it's never been the problem. It's just when those guns get into the hands of young, intoxicated idiots, that's when something that makes me feel safe

turns into something that scares the ever-living crap out of me. We're going back almost 20 years for this one. Talk about a trip down memory lane, but back around Halloween of 2005, I went camping with an old, obviously now ex-boyfriend of mine and three of his friends. I was kind of apprehensive about going at first because I was going to be the only girl among a group of four guys, and while I'd met my ex's friends before, I just felt like it'd be awkward if it was just me and four dudes who were bro-ing it out for three nights. I also, and this might sound bitchy, but whatever, did not completely trust my boyfriend and his buddies to A. pick a nice spot to camp, but whatever. Did not completely trust my boyfriend and his buddies to, A, pick a nice spot

to camp, or B, want to do much of anything other than sit around a fire, grilling meat, and drinking beer. While I was majorly wrong on both counts, and although there was plenty of grilling and sitting around a fire, the spot they chose was incredible, and they were nothing but perfect gentlemen, for the most part anyways. It turns out that two of my boyfriend's buddies were super into hiking and camping, so they weren't just about to pitch a tent anywhere and call it a camp. But when we arrived, I discovered they'd picked a truly beautiful site, and I'm not remotely exaggerating on account of being humbled so hard. There was a waterfall just down one of the trails, so we had clean drinking and washing water whenever we wanted. And speaking of trails,

they'd pitch their tent close to where a bunch converged so we could go easy, medium, or hard, depending on how hungover we all were in the morning. It was the best of both worlds, it really was. Those guys were fun, they were polite, and most importantly, they gave me my privacy when I needed it, and didn't make any dumb awkward jokes about what me and my boyfriend would get up to in our sleeping bags, which was nothing because outdoors, and that's kind of gross there. Anyways, because it was late October, there were basically no other hikers around, which was fine with me because I got to use that waterfall to wash after we went hiking the next day. We had the trails to ourselves.

No one drank too heavily the night before, so we were all relatively fresh and ready to put some miles in. Then, when we were done, we did some of the aforementioned grilling, drank a few more wine coolers and beers, and then all retired to our tents to get some sleep. As we were climbing into our sleeping bags, I remember telling my ex-boyfriend something like, thank you for inviting me. This was unexpectedly awesome. And he kind of just laughed because he'd been telling me the whole time not to worry. so for him it was totally vindicating to have me say that. But I meant it, truly. It hadn't just been awesome, it had been perfect. Right up until that next morning when we woke up and realized our perfect camping trip had

taken a dramatic turn for the worse. So there's a few things that I need to explain so what comes next will make more sense. Just after we caught it at night, but before getting into our tents, my boyfriend asked me to put the cooler and stereo in his truck while he doused the fire and collected up all our trash. I did as he asked, then put his truck keys in the front pocket of his backpack, which was situated on the side of the tent furthest away from the door, or flap, or whatever it's called. And on top of that, our sleeping arrangement was such that my ex-boyfriend slept closest to the door, and he had his firearm with him just in case anything crazy happened. We heard nothing that woke us up that night. Woke up the next morning feeling fine, and we made sure everyone else was fine

and awake too before we unzipped the door of our tent and looked outside. Before we went to bed, the campsite had been perfectly orderly, I guess, and when we looked outside that morning, not even eight hours later, it was complete chaos. The campfire my boyfriend and his buddies made had been completely destroyed, and some of the rocks we'd used to put around the edge to stop it from spreading looked like they'd been tossed around the campsite. All of my boyfriend's truck doors were open, the stereo had been smashed to pieces against a tree by the looks of things,

and the cooler had been opened, emptied, and tossed so that there was just raw meat lying all over the place. We all just sat there, poking our heads out of the tent in silence, in complete and total disbelief at what we were all seeing. And for me, the peace and quiet we enjoyed before wasn't so peaceful or quiet anymore. Everything just felt completely off. As we all got dressed and got out of our tents, we tried to figure out what had happened or, more importantly, how our campsite got wrecked without anyone hearing the destruction and waking up. But what started out as frightened discussion

very quickly escalated into accusations and arguments. My ex accused me of not locking the truck the previous night, which made me furious because I said, do you think I'm dumb, stupid, or dumb? I swore on all that was holy that I locked his damn truck because I had a crystal clear memory of locking the truck door then putting the keys in his backpack, which as I said earlier was as far from the tent flap as it was possible to be without being outside the tent. He then marches over to the tent, grabs his bag, but there were no keys in the front pouch, and things escalated from there. My ex says, are you that stupid, huh? And then started demanding an apology, but the second I realized there were no keys in the front pouch, I felt sick.

I don't know if you've ever had a genuine moment of feeling like you're losing your mind, but it's not fun. I actually felt kind of lightheaded, dizzy almost, and then I retracted my steps towards my boyfriend's truck and found the keys lying near one of the open doors. I kept stammering and stuttering, not being able to get my words out, and it was only that my boyfriend realized that something else was going on, or at least that's what it seemed like on the surface. He went very quiet, said he just wanted to leave, and then after apologizing to his friends,

we threw what was left of our stuff into his trunk and then got the hell out of there. I still remember feeling very strange during the ride home because I felt like I was going crazy. I was half apologizing, half begging him to believe me that I had this super clear memory of locking his truck and it was making me feel like I was going nuts. He stayed quiet for a long time until I started to cry, at which point he started saying stuff like, I know, I'm sorry, I believe you. That didn't really do much to calm me down, because it still didn't answer the question of what the F happened to us the previous night. So I kept asking my boyfriend what he thought happened, because he had way more camping experience than I did did and if anyone would

know it was him or his buddies. He just kept saying that he didn't know over and over until things got quite heated and we had to pull into the parking lot of some diner just to take a break from driving and actually talk things out. I don't care if some of you choose not to believe me over this because what I'm about to tell you is the God honest truth. This isn't word for word from my boyfriend said, but he did say something to the effect, so if you're going to choose not to believe anyone, it's him you should be mad at and not me. Besides, I have my own theories of what happened, but we'll get to that afterwards. And so we stop in the diner parking lot.

I think it was like an original pancake house but I can't be certain and my boyfriend starts trying to find the words to tell me something. I'm asking him to talk to me but it's like he can't get words out and then he starts telling me how I'll think he's crazy if he tells me what he's thinking. I told him it couldn't be crazier than a feeling than the one that I felt back at the campsite when I realized the keys were missing. Then after gathering his thoughts, he started to speak. He told me that the previous night, he'd had a bad dream. Not like a full-on nightmare, but enough to wake him up with a startle before he went back to sleep.

He said at the time that he woke up, he didn't hear any movement or commotion outside the tent, which is how he went back to sleep in the first place. It just seemed like a dumb dream, possibly induced by drinking too much alcohol and then exhausting himself with hiking. He kept talking like how he hadn't really thought about what happened in the dream until I freaked out about the keys being out of his bag. I told him to just spit it out and tell me what his point was, and then he started to tell me what happened in his dream. He said that he dreamed that he woke up, in our tent, with me asleep next to him, but then he noticed how someone was crouching over him, like one foot on either side of his sleeping bag.

He said he was terrified at first, but when he saw that the guy's face looked all wrong, like it was made of ski mask material, he wasn't just wearing one, he realized, oh, this is a dream, I better wake up. Then, as I said already, he did wake up, but he just kind of chuckled to himself that he was still having bad dreams as a 20-something adult and went back to sleep. I think it was probably a little too harsh of him in the moment because I said something like, what the F does that have to do with anything, when I'd just been encouraging him so hard to share that story. But I thought he was going to say something about hearing movement outside our tents,

not start talking about a dream like it was somehow connected to what had happened. He wouldn't talk anymore after that. Instead, he went into the diner, got us some coffees, and then swapped apologies before we got back on the road again. Neither of us had been in our right minds. We were both frightened and confused, so nothing that happened on the way to the diner seemed all productive. We just drove back home. He dropped me off at my place. I took a shower and then took a nap once the adrenaline had worn off. But all under the assumption that we were going to talk about what had happened. But when I called him later on that day, he said that he didn't want to talk about it. He said that he met up with his friends. They talked it over and they

decided that it was best that everyone just kind of move on from that. And I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They didn't even want to go to the cops or the park rangers or whoever deals with that kind of stuff. My ex said that there was no point, that they wouldn't be able to do anything, so now the only thing for us to do is to try to move on and forget it even happened. Again, I could not believe my ears. My ex was incredibly protective over his truck, and he was always up to date with his insurance payments,

but then, in order to file a claim, he had to file a police report. I thought that that would be the tipping point, the thing that made him think, okay, maybe I should stop being an idiot and let the cops know someone could have potentially murdered us while we slept. He loved that truck, and it was everything to him, so I really thought that the whole insurance claim thing would make him change his mind, but it didn't. I have my own theories on why this is, and they all revolve around one reoccurring theme, and that is how I think it was my ex-boyfriend that trashed our campsite.

I don't know if you could describe it as a blackout or whatever, but I think he did way more in the middle of the night than just wake up from a bad dream. I think he knows it too. But I think at the moment the idea of acknowledging that he had a vague memory of smashing his own stereo was just impossible. I think it scared him. It scared him really bad and that's why he didn't want to revisit that night in any way, be it talking about it or even thinking about it. He also didn't want his friends talking about it, and he especially didn't want me talking to them about it, because

I think he knew we'd figure it out sooner or later. I don't think he really cared about his smashed stereo, but he gave more than just two craps about what his friends thought of him, and the last thing he wanted in the world was for them to think that he was going crazy, or that he was dangerous in a way that was beyond his control. Now, we broke up less than a year later, and I'd be lying if I said the whole camping incident wasn't a small contributing factor. One of the last things I told him was that if there ever comes a day when he feels like getting help, then I'll be there for him to support him through it. I don't think he's ever tried, and what happened that night is just something he's learned to live with. I don't know all this

for certain. I mean, it's all just a theory. A game theory, on my part. But the thing that makes me think that I'm not all that far off the mark is that, to my knowledge in ways I could never have imagined. My father inherited an old house in remote New South Wales from a distant relative we barely knew. He thought it would be an idyllic place to raise a family, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Little did he know what awaited us. The house was nestled in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense bushland. It was the perfect picture of tranquility, at least during the day.

The house itself had an eerie, antiquated charm, with creaking floorboards and dimly lit hallways that seemed to stretch on forever. My family consisted of my father, my mother, my older sister Lucy, and me. We moved in with excitement and a sense of adventure, unaware of the horrors that would soon unfold. The first few nights were pretty uneventful. My father busied himself with repairs, my mother unpacked, and Lucy and I explored the property. On the fourth night, I had my first encounter. I was in my room, reading a book, when I felt a sudden chill. The room seemed darker than usual, and I had the unmistakable feeling of being watched. I looked up and there, peering around the corner of the door frame, was a figure.

It was barely visible, like a shadow, but I could make out the shape of a head and shoulders. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and the figure remained there for a few agonizing moments before disappearing. I convinced myself that it was just my imagination, despite the creeping fear that settled in my bones. Weeks passed and odd things continued to happen, mostly to me. My toys would be moved around and my bed would occasionally shake in the middle of the night. I told my parents, but they dismissed it as nightmares or childish imagination. One night I woke up to a whispering voice hissing my name. I sat up, drenched in sweat and saw the same figure from before

now at the foot of my bed. It was closer and clearer. It had no features, just an inky blackness. I screamed and my mother rushed in, and the figure vanished the moment she opened the door, leaving her to comfort me and dismiss it as a bad dream. It wasn't until Lucy had her own experience that my parents began to take things seriously. She came to me one morning, pale and shaken, saying that she'd seen a woman in old-fashioned clothes standing at the foot of her bed, staring at her with hollow eyes. My parents started to believe something was off, but didn't want to admit that something supernatural might be happening. Our situation escalated over the five years that we lived there.

It started out small, lights flickering, strange noises and cold drafts, but grew increasingly malicious. Two experiences stand out vividly in my memory from what I recall. The first happened during our second year. My father had gone into town leaving the rest of us alone, and it was a stormy night and the house seemed alive with almost its own energy. Lucy and I were in the living room trying to watch TV despite the frequent power flickers, and suddenly the room went ice cold and the TV turned off entirely. In the next moment, the corner of the room darkened and we both saw it,

an unmistakable figure peering out from the shadows, its eyes reflecting the dim light. It slowly moved closer and we could make out the shape of its mouth, twisted into a very cruel smile. Lucy grabbed my hand and we bolted upstairs to my parents' room, locking the door behind us. My mother tried to calm us down, but she too felt the coldness and unease that permeated the house. Another terrifying event occurred in our fourth year. My father had become more open to the idea that something was clearly wrong. He brought in a local priest to bless the house after numerous pleas from my mother, and that night, after the blessing, I was in the kitchen getting a drink of water

when I felt a presence behind me. I turned and saw the same figure that had haunted me for years, now clearer than ever. It was a man, gaunt and hollow-eyed, with one side of his face hideously scarred. He stood at the entrance of the kitchen blocking my exit, and I was paralyzed with fear. He began to move towards me, slowly, deliberately, and every step he took seemed to drain the warmth from the room. I fell to the floor, unable to move, only managing to scream when he was inches away. My father burst in and the figure vanished, leaving the air thick with dread. The priest's blessing had stirred whatever malevolence resided there.

In our final year, things became unbearable. The entire family started hearing voices, footsteps and seeing the figure, now bolder and more frequent in its appearances. It seemed to thrive on our fear, growing stronger and more aggressive. Doors would slam, objects would fly across the room, and we all felt watched all the time. We decided enough was enough. One evening, as we packed our things to leave, the activity reached a fever pitch.

The house shook, the temperature dropped to freezing, and all of us saw shadows darting around. It seemed the entity didn't want us to go, but we were very resolute in our decision. We moved out the next day, leaving behind that cursed house and never looking back. Later on, we learned that the house had a very dark history. The man who built it in the 1800s was rumored to have gone mad and taken the lives of his family.

His spirit, along with others, was said to haunt the property, reliving their final moments in a twisted loop of torment. Living in that house changed us all. We never spoke of it much after we left, but the memories lingered. And even now, years later, sometimes I wake up in the dead of night, half expecting to see a face peering around the corner, watching and waiting. Finding a rental in suburban Victoria that was actually affordable seemed like a miracle. My two housemates and I, all in our early twenties and juggling part-time jobs with university, couldn't believe our luck when we found a charming house at the end of a quiet

cul-de-sac. It was suspiciously cheap for the area, but we chalked it up to our good fortune and a landlord eager to fill the place quickly. We moved in during an unusually warm summer. The house had a dated but cozy feel with worn carpets and faintly creaking floorboards that we wrote off as part of its charm. It wasn't long before we started to notice some oddities. The first night, while we were unpacking in the living room, we heard footsteps running up and down the hallway. We dismissed it as the house settling, maybe some old pipes, but the footsteps continued every night, always around the same time, 2am. My room was at the

end of the hallway, so I was often the last to hear the footsteps before they faded away. One night I decided to stay up and see if I could catch whatever or whoever was causing the noise. I sat in the living room, lights off with only the glow from my laptop for company. And right on cue, the footsteps started. Light, rapid steps, unmistakably human, yet not matching anyone's presence. As they approached the living room, I felt a chill run down my spine. The air grew cold, and the footsteps stopped just short of the doorway where I was sitting. I looked up, but there was nothing there. Just darkness and the overwhelming feeling of being watched.

We laughed it off the next day, but a sense of unease definitely lingered. And then came the touches. It started with Claire, one of my housemates. She'd been studying at the kitchen table and would suddenly feel a light brush against her shoulder, like someone lightly running their fingers over her to get her attention. She'd whip around, expecting to see one of us, but the room would be empty. And over time, Sam and I experienced the same cold, fleeting touches, ever so gentle but profoundly unsettling. The real terror, though, began with the sightings. One evening, while we were all relaxing in the living room, I noticed a shadowy figure peering in through the window. I jumped up, thinking someone was trying to break in, but as I moved closer, the figure seemed to melt away into the night.

Sam saw it too, confirming I wasn't just seeing things. And from that point on, the figure haunted us, watching us from the windows, always just at the edge of our vision, disappearing whenever we tried to confront it. The worst night of our lives in that house started just like any other. We had gathered in the kitchen for a late dinner. Plates and cutlery clattered as we joked about the house being haunted, nervously laughing off our fear. It was around midnight when things started to take a turn. As we sat eating, the temperature in the room plummeted. Our breath became visible, hanging in the air like smoke. The kitchen light flickered, casting erratic shadows all around us. And then, without warning, the cupboard doors flew open and plates began to hurl themselves off the shelves. We stared in shock as they shattered against the walls and floors,

and amid the chaos, a high-pitched blood-curdling shriek filled the air, echoing throughout the house. It wasn't just a noise. It was a tormenting sound, like something from the depths of a nightmare. We bolted from the kitchen, only to find the hallway blocked by that same shadowy figure. It loomed larger than ever, a dark mass with indistinct features but a very real presence, And the air fell thick, almost tangible, with hatred and malice radiating from it like a feeling. We hesitated for what felt like an eternity, then bolted for the back door, leaving behind everything but our need to escape. We never spent another night in that house. We called the landlord the next morning demanding an immediate termination of our lease,

and surprisingly, or perhaps not, they didn't argue with us. We managed to find temporary accommodation with friends and eventually secured a new place far away from that cul-de-sac and any lingering spirits. Only later did we find out that that house had a very dark history to it. Previous tenants had left suddenly, some claiming that the place was haunted, others describing experiences similar to ours. It wasn't something the landlord ever mentioned, and perhaps it wasn't something they believed or even wanted to believe. But living there changed us.

We grew quieter, more introspective, and I find myself glancing over my shoulder a lot more, half expecting to see a shadow peering back at me even in the safety of my new home. Some nights, especially when it's quiet and the house is settling, I swear I can still hear those footsteps. Let's get one thing straight. I've hiked the Blue Mountains before. But nothing, I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what I experienced during what was supposed to be a routine trek through its canyons. It began as a clear morning, the kind Aussies brag about. The eucalypt haze that gives the Blue Mountains their name wrapped around the cliffs in a dreamy shroud. I set off from Katoomba, pumped for a day of solitude and the haunting beauty of the Grose Valley. Honestly, I should have turned back when I first felt that tingle

on my neck, the one you get when you think someone's watching you. Being the dauntless bloke that I pretend to be, I chalked it up to the chill of the mountain air. Bad call. I missed the trail marker, my mind set on the shifting shadows between the gum trees, and that's when I got lost. The paths here wind around and double back like a snake. I've trekked them plenty, but today... Today they had teeth, and they bit me hard.

Hours passed and I realized that I was properly stuffed. Night fell like a curtain, fast and unforgiving, and I've never known dark like that, not the city kind. This was a velvety, pressing darkness that oozed into your bones and stayed there. My phone's flashlight cut through it like a weak whisper against a thunderstorm. Every tree looked like a gnarled hand and every bush rustle felt like a warning. And here's the goosebump bit. I wasn't alone. Not once did I see it clearly, but by the twitch of twilight, there was something behind me. A presence that hummed with malice. You know those stories of Aussie spirits?

The ones old-timers talk about in hushed tones by the fire? I'd laugh them off. But out there, laughter was about as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. It felt like a hunt, and I was the quarry, stumbling over roots, and my breath a ragged prayer. My phone beeped a low-battery warning. Seriously? Now? I pushed through the bush, gripping the phone like a talisman, but even Tech's cold comfort was slipping away. The hours to dawn stretched eternal, and my world shrunk to the feeble circle of my dying light.

When the brush gave way to an open dirt road, it felt like a mirage. I was giddy with relief, like this was some twisted outback Wizard of Oz junk. There wasn't a yellow brick road, but I'd have kissed that dirt if I hadn't been so parched. I followed it, boots crunching, every echo a question. When the ranger stationed silhouetted against the night, I could have wept. The ranger, a bloke named Darrow, had the look of a man who'd seen it all and then some. He listened to my tale with a grave nod and gave me a lift back to my ute, throwing glances to the rear view like he expected my

ghostly mate to be thumbing a ride. Don't hike alone, he said, his voice almost lost in the engine's growl, especially not when the mountain's restless. I haven't been back since. People say it was all in my head, dehydration, panic, the bush playing tricks, and maybe the right. But sometimes when the city's asleep and my flat's quiet, I swear I hear that whisper of a presence, feel that shiver down my spine. Sydney's got enough to explore without looking for trouble, and if you ever find yourself up in the Blue Mountains, stick to the beaten path, and for the love of all that's holy, respect the signs, both the ones in the ground and the ones in your gut, and my cousin, along with her brother,

was staying over at our house in Bathurst, New South Wales. My cousin was about 15 years old. We lived in a two-story home, so my parents and her brother were downstairs in the den. My younger sister and I were in the living room while my older cousin was in a spare bedroom getting ready for bed. I was curled up on the couch watching TV when suddenly a loud scream pierced the air. I jumped up and ran to the spare room to see what had happened. My cousin was sitting upright, her face pale. She told me the bed had been shaking, and thinking she was joking, I told her to stop messing around and went back to the couch.

Fifteen minutes later, another scream rang out, even louder than before, and I rushed back to the spare room yelling, what's wrong now? And with wide eyes, she said the bed was shaking. Just as I was about to walk away, the bed started moving wildly in front of us. It shook back and forth as if someone or something was gripping it. My cousin burst into tears and jumped off the bed, and the shaking stopped instantly. I checked under the bed, convinced her brother was pranking us, but it was empty. Was it a poltergeist? And to this day, I don't know if we imagined it or if it was something real. Neither my cousin nor I have talked about it since. A week later, another strange thing happened. It was a quiet Wednesday evening and I was alone in the house reading a book.

My family had gone out for dinner and I wanted some peace and quiet. I was deeply engrossed in a suspenseful chapter when I heard faint whispers coming from the hallway. I thought that it was just the house settling or the wind outside, but the whispers grew louder and seemed to move closer. My heart pounded as I put my book down and listened more carefully. It wasn't my imagination. There were real murmuring voices in the hallway. Summoning all my courage, I walked toward the sound. The whispers stopped the moment that I stepped into the hallway. The hairs on my neck stood up and a chill ran through me. Over the next few days, strange things happened more frequently. Lights flickered for no reason, doors creaked open by

themselves, and some rooms had inexplicable cold spots. We tried to convince ourselves that it was faulty wiring or drafts, but it happened so often that it became hard to ignore. One night, while brushing my teeth, I saw a shadowy figure in the bathroom mirror behind me. My blood ran cold, and I quickly turned around, but the room was empty. I splashed water on my face, hoping that I was just tired, but the image of that shadow haunted me. These events terrified us. My cousin and I were too frightened to sleep alone, so we started sharing a room, and our nights were filled with uneasy sleep and whispered questions like, did you hear that, during the dark quiet hours. We didn't tell our parents, afraid that they wouldn't believe us or would think that

we were just causing trouble. And one night, the strange activities escalated to a peak. My family and I were in the living room trying to watch a movie and halfway through, the lights flickered and the room became freezing. We huddled together, our breath visible in the cold air. Suddenly, the TV turned static and whispers filled the room. The whispers grew louder, almost deafening, and objects began moving by themselves. Books flew off the shelves, picture frames shattered, and an old clock chimed erratically. In a panic, we ran to the den for safety, and that eerie activity followed us as if something unseen wanted us gone. In the chaos, we decided that we couldn't stay any longer, and we packed our things and left the house that night, staying at a friend's place.

And leaving was hard, but it was necessary for our peace of mind. Weeks later, when we returned to collect our belongings, the house felt different. The unsettling presence seemed to have vanished, leaving a very eerie silence. And we moved out soon after, leaving behind what had once been our home, but it turned into a place of unexplained terror. And that's our story. We don't really talk about it much, but to this day we have no idea what was really going on. And sometimes I think it's just better to let these things be. I used to be a police officer in a city in Virginia. There is one upscale neighborhood in our city with very nice homes.

And when I was a new officer, I was often told stories about a doctor who used to live in one of those homes. The story goes that the doctor attempted to perform some type of operation on himself. He numbed his stomach area to make an incision, but since he couldn't feel it, he accidentally cut too deep and wide, ultimately disemboweling himself. When officers and paramedics arrived, they found him barely alive, holding his own intestines, and he eventually died. Fast forward to when I was assigned to a call about a young woman found dead by her older sister. When I arrived on the scene, it was in the aforementioned nice neighborhood. As soon as I exited my vehicle, I had an uneasy feeling about the house.

While it looked nice on the outside, there was just a bad energy surrounding it. As I approached the front porch, I noticed countless empty energy drink cans and a Ouija board on the front patio table. Everything about this house just felt wrong. And once inside, the family was obviously very distraught. I was told the deceased, whom we'll call Emily, was in the basement and by that time another officer had arrived so he stayed upstairs with the family while I went down to the basement. The basement was unfinished and fairly dark

with only two pull-string light bulbs, one on each side. The scene in the basement was similar to the front porch. Energy drink cans were scattered everywhere and there was another Ouija board on a small coffee table. Emily, who was 19 if I remember correctly, was hanging by her neck from a basement rafter. She had used an exercise band and her body was swinging slightly. Her face was blue, bloated, and contorted into a horrible expression. Another officer helped me take her down. Emily's family consisted of her mother, father, and older sister. Her parents said that they had been trying to help her because all she ever did was stay up all night drinking energy drinks and playing with the Ouija board.

Her sister provided more detail. She said that she and Emily were very close and told each other everything, and according to her, Emily had become obsessed with the Ouija board, staying up all night to talk to what she believed was her boyfriend, who was dead. Emily had been telling her sister that her boyfriend was begging her to join him in the afterlife which is why her sister believed she did what she did Now let me reiterate This house felt wrong

There was an overwhelming sense of unease and sickness in the basement and it wasn't because of the body This wasn't my first death scene This call really messed with me for a while We never got much more explanation and as cops, you just have to move on to the next call. Not two weeks later to the day, I responded to a call about a car accident with ejection and I head to the scene with lights and sirens and arrived to find a convertible BMW that had clearly experienced a horrific crash and rollover.

It was sitting on its wheels and in the driver's seat was a woman with a broken neck, that had clearly experienced a horrific crash and rollover. It was sitting on its wheels and in the driver's seat was a woman with a broken neck, her head twisted almost completely around. About 25 feet away from the car was a man who had been ejected. Since it was a convertible, he must have been thrown from the top. The top half of his head was missing and pieces of his brain matter were scattered everywhere. As I walked 75 yards away from the accident to close off the scene with yellow tape, I found yet another large chunk of his brain. Now I'm not trying to be intentionally graphic or gross, but I want to paint a clear picture of just how violent this car accident was. When I obtained the man's ID and radioed it in to dispatch,

another officer and I realized the same thing at the same time. These two people were Emily's parents, who had died in a terrible accident exactly two weeks after her death. Breaking the news to the older sister was heartbreaking. I kept in touch with her for a while. She had inherited her parents' estate and life insurance money, and she ended up selling everything and buying a new house to try and start over and build her life. However, the story doesn't end there.

You see, about a month later, another officer was called to the scene after a pedestrian was struck by a car while jogging in her neighborhood. And yes, you guessed it. It was the sister. She survived several weeks in a coma but ultimately did not make it. If you're wondering why the story about the doctor is relevant, it's because the house where Emily took her own life was the same house that that doctor had lived in. I don't know what to think, but to me it seems like either the house is cursed or Emily opened up something very dark. That was a few years ago and I'm no longer a police officer, as that's a story for a different time, and I've since moved a couple estates away. All I know is that I'm just glad to be as far away from that cursed situation as possible. In October 2017, I lost my husband while I was seven weeks pregnant.

And the day he died, I left for work in a hurry. We exchanged some texts after he woke up, discussing a phone interview that he had later that day and the pain that he was experiencing in his hurry. We exchanged some texts after he woke up, discussing a phone interview that he had later that day and the pain that he was experiencing in his leg. We had a quick phone call a couple of hours later where he mentioned that he was running to the pharmacy for pain meds. About an hour after that, I tried calling him several times to make sure that he got home safely, but there was no answer, which was very unlike him. I kept calling him for hours until, finally, a woman answered his phone, and she told me that she was with the sheriff's

department and asked me to come home. At the time, I worked in a prison, and fearing that he might have gotten into some sort of trouble, I left my post, got to my car, and sped through the 30-minute drive back to town. As I turned into our parking garage, I saw a large white van that read, Coroner. When I approached our home, I was greeted by the same woman who had spoken to me on the phone, blocking my view into the house. She informed me that my husband had suffered a heart attack, later confirmed as a pulmonary embolism, which explained the leg pain that he had mentioned earlier that morning. Apparently my husband made it home, locked the security door and then collapsed. He screamed for help. Our neighbor and

her son had heard him and rushed over, but they couldn't get inside because all the doors and windows were locked. The son later apologized for not breaking a window, saying that in his shock and panic he lost all sense of reason. They spoke to my husband through the door while they called 911, but he stopped responding just moments before help arrived, and he was pronounced dead on arrival. A week or so after his service, his best friend's wife offered me a cleansing and a card reading by her mother. And although I was skeptical, I was desperate for any kind

of communication with him or closure. And during the reading, she mentioned many interesting things, but what stood out the most was that my husband was in a stage after death where the soul relives its entire life, similar to when people say that their life flashes before their eyes. She explained that this is a place every soul visits after death as a way to reflect on the life they lived. She also said his death was so sudden that he hadn't yet realized that he had died and that I would need to help him cross over. She felt strongly that I was the one who could help him and instructed me to light white candles and place a jar of water to guide him to peace. Now a few months later I moved into my parents' house.

One day while lying on the couch I suddenly felt a heavy sensation, almost as if I had been administered anesthesia. It felt like sleep paralysis. When I could finally open my eyes, I was still on the couch in my parents' living room, but my husband was sitting on a chair right in front of me, as clear and as real as he had been before he died. Before I could even speak, he started talking. He told me that he was nervous about his upcoming phone interview, the one that he had the day he passed. He said he was excited and hopeful about getting the job and asked for help preparing.

I looked at him with tears in my eyes, feeling the weight of what I had to say. I told him, Baby, I'm so sorry. Do you remember the pain in your leg? You had blood clots. One of them made its way to your heart. You aren't going to make it to the interview, baby. You died. I'll never forget the look on his face.

First confusion, then the slow realization of what I had just told him. I apologized again, told him I loved him and begged him to respond, but he just sat there with that strange expression. And suddenly, I woke up. The chair from my parents' kitchen table was now sitting directly in front of me, empty. I never dreamed of him again after that, and I pray it's because I gave him the closure that he needed to cross over. We now have a five-year-old son who often dreams very specific dreams about his father. He talks about things that he couldn't possibly know unless it came directly from him. Losing my husband was my first real experience with death,

but it brought me peace to have my own confirmation that there is something more after this life. A few years ago, my mother passed away after a long battle with cancer. In her final weeks, she was bedridden at home and at one point on some heavy pain medication. The whole family took turns helping and spending time with her and what she told us towards the end gave us all a shock. She kept reacting as though something had scared her and she would jump and say, oh god, or she'd swear as if something startled her. At first, she didn't say anything, but then after a week or two, she blurted out something one day that gave us all the creeps. I wish he'd stop scaring me. Tell him to go away.

She was irritated by something, or more precisely, someone. Confused, we asked what the problem was and she told us. Apparently during her final weeks, she kept seeing her deceased partner walking around the house. He'd walk down the hallway, past her bedroom door or sometimes sit in her room. Every time it happened, it would make her jump with fright as she obviously wasn't expecting to see him there. She seemed more annoyed than scared, and she saw him several times a day just going about his business as if he had never left. Usually her reaction was, oh for God's sake, go away. Not because she didn't want to see him, but because he kept startling her. And our first thought was that it was related to the pain medication that

she was on, but the nurse assured us that it wouldn't cause hallucinations or visions. I know it scared the life out of us, and she entered a hospice a few weeks later and the stopped. Weird, right? We still don't talk about it. That's just how unsettled we all really were. I moved into a rental house last year with my wife, built in the 40s, I think. It's an okay rental, but I'd never buy this place. It's a modge podge of half-assed DIYs, including a house extension. The church across the road owns it, and the two of the people there have managed it for a while, and I don't know much of the history of it otherwise. Even since the first time I toured it, the basement has creeped me out. There's this weird

yellow half-finished bathroom downstairs in the lounge room that is at least a few decades old, a telephone down there, and the rest is unfinished. There's a creepy chair in the corner that I swear I moved a few months ago and a desk that I swear another chair used to be stacked on top of but regardless that's not why I'm making this post. Since we moved in every once in a while a light is randomly on down there. Sometimes it's one of the drawcord lights and I assume I forgot and left it on, although I'm pretty good about that kind of thing and I doubt it. And for the past few months, more often the main lights switch to the top of the stairs,

and there's no way that I'd forget that. Lately, with us moving out in less than a week, it's been turning on every couple of days, which is more often than usual. I often notice it when I'm outside looking in, which is even creepier. It's worth noting that the switch will physically be up, too, when it wasn't before. But today, when it happened again, I had a creepy realization. It happens when we're sleeping. I know this because every night I go to my office down the hall from my bedroom and play games or do work in the dark. When I go into the hallway, it's always pitch

black and I have to turn on my phone flashlight. There are decent sized gaps under the doors and I noticed that the lights were on. The night before yesterday, I caught it again. So yesterday when we did the laundry, I made a mental note that I turned it off in the late afternoon so it turned on after I went to bed but before we went down there again. I also just generally get a bad vibe when I'm down there and when the door is open. A few weeks ago I left the door open a little because my cat wandered down there while I did laundry and I was waiting for him to come up. And I swear when I was in my office I heard the door moving back and forth slightly and creaking, which it normally

doesn't do. Nothing else weird has happened in the house on that living floor, but it generally can be very creepy. The hallway where the door to the basement is in general is the absolute creepiest spot. But I really want to know, what are your thoughts? I was confined to a hospital in Manila for severe pneumonia back in 2021, during the pandemic lockdown when masks were mandatory. I was about to be assigned a room when I saw a toddler in a red polka dot dress galloping around the emergency room and then leaving through the glass entrance. She wasn't wearing a mask so I asked security if children were allowed and the guard replied in Filipino, no children allowed.

I was confused, wasn't he seeing this rowdy kid? After I was confined to the fifth floor, I fell asleep and had a really weird dream. I went down and saw the young girl outside the emergency room, only this time, she was weeping in anger and holding a hammer. When she looked up, she screamed, Pa, why did you leave me? Afraid of being hit with the hammer, I ran up the dim stairwell back to the fifth floor. All I remember was that I was slowly losing my breath and when I looked back, I saw her chasing after me, only now she was floating up the staircase. It felt like I ascended over twenty floors because the chase seemed never ending. The stairwell echoed with a pleading voice screaming,

By the time I reached my bed, I was physically out of breath, and that's when I woke up with dangerously low oxygen levels gasping for air already surrounded by two attending nurses. I was intubated for a few days after that. When I regained consciousness, I recounted my dream to my attending nurse. She froze in shock before asking, did she have a polka dot dress on? And I asked her how she knew. Apparently my dream was eerily similar to over ten anecdotes from different patients over the decades, each one involving a girl in a polka dot dress who first appeared in the emergency area and then later in their dreams, chasing them until they woke up. The existence of this girl has been an open secret among the hospital staff, passed down from worker to worker since the 1970s. And I guess the backstory goes,

more than 40 years ago, a small dengue-infected child was brought to the hospital by a young Chinese father in his 20s. And for reasons unknown, perhaps because she was an illegitimate child not recognized by the father's family, the dad abandoned her at the hospital, never to return. And the hospital recorded no proper identity for the little girl, and she eventually died alone. She was buried in the cemetery right across from the hospital recorded no proper identity for the little girl and she eventually died alone. She was buried in the cemetery right across from the hospital, and a group of nurses helped bury the girl. They named her Shoba, a Chinese-Filipino term for youngest daughter.

She wore a polka dot dress. The nurse told me that while they have never actually seen the ghost, they all know of her existence. They also know that the ghost only reveals herself to certain people. Strangely, all the patients who reported seeing her shared similar physical attributes, East Asian looking, i.e. Chinese, in their 20s, of average build, around 5'8", and on the brink of death. Perhaps patients who resembled her father. Did I remind her of him?

I've come to believe the ghost of this girl is still searching for her father. I won't deny it. It felt like I was running from death itself, but in hindsight, I wonder if the girl simply wanted a father. Maybe she wanted to bring one with her to the afterlife. By some miracle, I survived the whole ordeal, and I returned to that hospital last year for a routine checkup, but I never saw that girl again. Call it a blessing or a curse, but for what it's worth,

that dream woke me up to a second chance at life. And I hope you find peace wherever you are, little girl. I just woke up from a nap. I've been silently lurking and reading other people's posts, which are super interesting. And I don't necessarily think anything too much about my experience, since the answer is right there. A ghost was talking to me from the basement. My parents commuted to work at the time, which required them to get up at 3 in the morning, get ready for an hour and then leave the house at around 4 in the morning since the northern part of my state, where they work, we live in the central part, is very heavy with traffic. My parents built their house in 2013 and we moved in at around that time too.

My sister and I would sleep upstairs and my grandma, who was alive at the time, slept in the master bedroom on the ground floor. I was in college at the time. It was about five o'clock in the morning and grandma and my sister were sleeping. I was drinking my morning coffee in the dark, looking over my student email when I heard a very clear woman's voice say, Hello? Is anyone there? I need help. From the basement. At first I thought that I was developing psychosis since my sister has schizoaffective mood disorder, but I immediately noticed my dogs were staring right at the basement door.

They heard it too. And so I barricaded the basement and went up to my room with coffee and locked the door. And now I'm perusing new apartment roughly three years ago. Since then, she has been suffering from weekly episodes of sleep paralysis. Her brother used to have them when they were children, so she recognized what it was right away. She has described it as being completely paralyzed, except for being able to breathe and move her eyes. Most of the time, she sees a dark, tall figure moving around our apartment during these episodes. Sometimes she just hears it walking.

Other times, it's standing in the doorway, staring at her, and occasionally it presses down on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She's a skeptic when it comes to the paranormal, yet these sleep paralysis episodes terrify her. And now, here's the really scary part. She usually manages to wake me up during these episodes by breathing quickly and loudly. I can then wake her from it, which allows her to move again and the figure disappears. What I haven't told her is that for the past two months, I've seen this figure too. Right after I'm woken up by her breathing, I can see it, bent over her, pressing down on her chest. It always disappears the moment I acknowledge it or try to wake her.

I've also seen it standing in the hallway, staring at me one night while I was home alone watching a movie. I pretended not to see it, and when I looked again, it was gone. Now comes the dilemma. Do I tell my girlfriend that her sleep paralysis demon might not just be a product of her mind, since I've seen it too? And at the same time as her when I wake her up from paralysis at night? I don't want to scare her. She's already terrified by the sleep paralysis, but at least she believes it's all in her head. And we can't afford to move. I think we can both live with this as long as I never tell her the truth. But I need your advice. This experience I'm going to describe has taken a while for me to get together and actually write down.

It takes place in Yosemite National Park in August of 2017 with my two best friends Zach and Andrew. Zach had worked that summer as a parking agent at Glacier Point and was pretty familiar with the area. His employee housing, he was given a house in Wawona with two other guys. Andrew and I were visiting for the week and had each been to Yosemite before. One of the nights there we decided to watch the sunset over Chilnuwana Falls. It was a great hike that Zach had done before. The trail was about four miles to the top with about a 2,000 foot elevation gain. We brought food and decided to hike up and take a swim and eat at the pools on top of the falls. We set out on a couple of hours before sunset.

As we approached the top portion, we were about half a mile to the top of the falls where a guy, about our age, early 20s, ran up to us from bushes frantically asking for help. His friend had fallen 50 feet off of a cliff and had shattered his femur. Zach was used to this and after working in the park all summer, he had seen many injuries and was used to it. The man didn't have cell reception, but I did, so I called 911 and reported the accident, requesting search and rescue. After a few minutes we decided that we wanted to continue the hike after search and rescue assured us that they would be there soon with the helicopter. We told the guy that help was on its way and we continued the next half mile up to the top of the falls. When we got up there, it was a picture perfect scene.

A beautiful sunset as we swam and ate. We then got an amazing show as we saw the helicopter land to pick up the injured guy that we had just encountered right below us. I'm a private pilot and Air Force aviator so I loved every second of watching the helicopter land on the mountainside. After the sunset we began the hike down and passed the spot where the injured guy in search and rescue was taking care of him. We had a brief encounter with them. they thanked us for calling it in, and it was now dark out and we continued the hike down. There wasn't much moonlight and it was pretty dark so we used our phones as flashlights to see the trail. And this is where the story gets interesting. The top of the hike was switchbacks with a steep incline on the right and a steep decline on the left with shrubs and trees.

It was definitely too steep to hike down, hence the switchbacks. And about one mile into the hike, Zach was in front with a light and I was second, also shining my light, and Andrew was in the back. Zach was shining his light ahead and saw something sticking out from behind a tree that was about 15 feet ahead, just off to the right of the back. Zach was shining his light ahead and saw something sticking out from behind a tree that was about 15 feet ahead, just off to the right of the path, and instinctively shined his light on it. That's when whatever it was revealed itself from behind the tree and ran across the path, down to the left and down the steep grade. It ran on two feet and resembled some sort of humanoid figure. It was a little shorter than us and clearly had two feet and resembled some sort of humanoid figure. It was a little shorter than us and clearly had two arms and two legs, but it moved in an inhuman way.

It vaguely resembled a person with a head and limbs, but appeared to be just skin, no clothes at all. All three of us saw it and we froze in our tracks. We continued shining the light where it had run, down the left side of the mountain, but we didn't see anything after it disappeared. We were absolutely terrified, none of us really knowing what to say because we had no idea what we had just witnessed. The worst part was that we still had another three mile hike ahead of us, plus another mile and a half from the trailhead to Zach's house, all while knowing that this creature could be stalking us close by. Luckily, we made it to his house, terrified and exhausted, but unharmed.

Whatever it was, must have been just as scared of us as we were of it. My question is, has anyone else had a similar experience in that area? I've done some research and my best guess would be a skinwalker, but it didn't try to lure us into the forest with it. We had another strange experience a couple of years later in Tioga Pass, right outside the Tioga Gate of the park. We were camping in a closed campground in that area, and in the middle of the night, I woke up to go to the bathroom, and before exiting the tent,

I saw an orb about five feet away, floating by with a bright light. I don't think it was a person, because Zach, Andrew, and I all saw the orb, and there wasn't anyone around us. Our friend Jackson, who was also in the tent, told us that the next morning, that he had felt rocks being thrown at the tent all night, along with hearing footsteps nearby.

Has anyone else ever had these similar strange experiences? I'd love to hear them. We all know what we saw, and we know that it wasn't human. For some context, this was at the first house that I lived in when I was around 4 or 5. Keep in mind I have a pretty overactive imagination as a kid, but this encounter felt so real and unlike anything I've experienced before. I woke up in the middle of the night in my mother's room. I forgot why I was in my mom's room but I remembered that she was sleeping and her room was lighted enough that I was able to look around the room. But when I looked towards her bedroom door, I saw two white figures, seemingly playing. They appeared to be young as they seemed smaller than say my father and seemed around a little older than people my age I knew. They also weren't transparent. These figures had actual mass to them, like shadow people in the best way to describe it, but instead of black, they were completely white. Now anyway, when I

saw them, they stopped playing and stared right at me, and my whole body froze and I was unable to say anything. I didn't even want to wake up body froze and I was unable to say anything. I didn't even want to wake up my mother. I was that frightened to move. Then the two figures started to walk to me as excruciatingly slow as possible. As they crossed to my side of the bed, one of the boys had reached his hand out to touch me and then faded away just as he reached me. It wasn't until a few years later when I brought this up with my dad and he told me that he used to see a bunch of ghosts when he was a kid at our

house. He grew up in my first house but he never saw ghosts of two children. He did say that he heard a story growing up that there were two boys that actually died on that street that we lived in. One died falling down the stairs and the other died in some way I forgot but he didn't know the boys personally. And that's all I got. I've told a few people this and they brought up sleep paralysis and I felt like I could move. I was just afraid to move in that moment. I did say that I had an overactive imagination back then, so it is entirely possible that I imagined it all, but it felt so real and unlike any night terror that I had brought up by my imagination. If you have any explanations, that would be awesome, but for now, I'll just sign

off on that note. I was at a family friend's wedding today, which took place in the middle of a forest. It was a beautiful setting, but after a while, I needed a break from the crowd, so I walked toward a small stream nearby. And that's when I saw someone. Now, a little background. Last year, one of my closest friends passed away in a car crash. We were both into paranormal stuff and they promised that they'd come to find me after they died. Since their passing, I haven't noticed anything unusual,

aside from occasionally seeing a shadow figure, until today. The person standing by the stream had a birthmark on their face, and my friend had the exact same birthmark. They were wearing a limited edition shirt from a band that we both loved, the same shirt my friend wore the day they crashed. Even their hair color was identical to my friend's. I stared at this person for a while and they smiled back, saying hello, and they said my name. And I blinked, and they were gone. And I'm still just so confused, and even terrified at what happened. It does give me a sense of peace, but I just need some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. To be continued... friends, thanks for listening. Don't forget to hit that follow button to be alerted of our weekly episodes every Tuesday at 1pm EST. And if you haven't already, check out Let's Read on YouTube, where you can catch all my new video releases every Monday and Thursday at 9pm EST.

Thanks so much, friends, and I'll see you in the next episode. out.