The Lets Read Podcast - 95: Introducing: Camping Horror Stories, Disturbing Missing Person Cases and More from the Darkness Prevails Podcast

Episode Date: March 30, 2021

Here's a Bonus episode to promote the wildly weird and terrifying podcast of DARKNESS PREVAILS! Subscribe to the Darkness Prevails Podcast on your favorite Podcast app or service for allegedly true and terrifying stories featuring Mysterious Creatures, Supernatural Encounters and other scary tales! Subscribe on Spotify! https://open.spotify.com/show/3mNZyXkaJPLwUwcjkz6Pv2 Subscribe to and Review Us on iTunes! https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/darkness-prevails-podcast-true-horror-stories/id1152248491 Submit Your Story Here: https://www.darkstories.org/ Music used in the Darkness Prevails Podcast has or may have been provided/created by: CO.AG: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCcavSftXHgxLBWwLDm_bNvA Myuu: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCiSKnkKCKAQVxMUWpZQobuQ Jinglepunks: https://jinglepunks.com/ Epidemic Sound: https://www.epidemicsound.com/ Kevin MacLeod: http://incompetech.com/ Dark Music: https://soundcloud.com/darknessprevailspodcast MrBlackPasta: https://twitter.com/MrBlackPasta

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wordlessly, knife in hand, back turned toward you. What would you do in that situation? Welcome back to the Darkness Prevails podcast, the show where folks like you send me your scary stories and unexplained encounters, and I share them with the world. Today, supernatural creatures, creepy camping stories, and other disturbing tales haunt this week's episode. Remember, you can send us your story at darkstories.org to have it considered for narration. You can follow me at Dark Prevails on Twitter you can send us your story at darkstories.org to have it considered for narration. You can follow me at DarkPervails on Twitter to hear me complain about expired flavored coffees.

And be sure to check out eeriecast.com to stay up to date with this show and other shows that are part of my network, the Eerie Cast Podcast Network, including Freaky Folklore, where host Carmen Carrion discusses the horrors of mythical creatures both ancient and modern. Now, let's begin. The Creature That Roams Blanton National Park From Wesley C. This happened in the largest national park in Kentucky, Blanton National Forest and Nature Preserve. Blanton is both the biggest forest in Kentucky and possibly the most beautiful. I finished showing the park ranger my park admission slip and drove through the gate. I looked out into the parking lot and noticed there was hardly anyone there.

I figured this might be normal because it was 7 in the morning after all, and on a business day. When I got out, I released the ratchet ties holding down my red beat around ATV. After setting it down, I loaded everything on top and locked my truck. It only took about 5 minutes to drive to my spot, and another 45 minutes to set up my tent, butane stove, and unpack my food. I took my handgun out of my portable safe that I brought along, and decided to take a hike through the massive forest. I had made it about a mile from my campsite before I realized it was already getting dark, so I needed to head back. About a minute later, I heard a stick break. My first thought was that it was a park ranger. I turned around, ready to show him my admission slip.

To my surprise, there was no one there. I looked around and saw no animals or people, and the closest campsite was about 200 yards away. Okay then, I muttered to myself, thinking maybe a squirrel or possum dropped a hickory nut or something. After not seeing anything, I just continued walking back to the site. A louder cracking sound made me freeze in my tracks. To be honest, I wasn't surprised when I didn't see anything once more, but I was unsettled. What the heck? I said aloud into the trees, assuming that this was some sort of prank. When I heard no reply, I began to jog back to my

campsite. I just need some sleep, I told myself as I approached my tent. But not before some food. While I was moving the cooler out to the campfire, I heard another slight sound about 15 yards away. I thought nothing of it at first, as it was almost inaudible, but this was different. I began feeling something observing me, and there was a horrible rotting stench that filled the air. I tried to cover my nose, but to no avail. I looked around, but still saw nothing, and the smell still would not go away. I began to draw my pistol, thanking God that I had it with me.

I also started to feel nauseous. I tried taking deep breaths, but the fresh air that I was expecting was replaced by this awful rotting smell. I was beginning to get a headache and I threw up due to the nausea. What the heck is that? I yelled. The nausea started to get worse. It felt like my stomach was writhing like some sort of worm. I thought I was going to throw up again.

It was then that I looked up towards a crunching noise in the tree line. The sound began moving to my left and I froze in my tracks. Standing there, about two feet to my left, was a creature that I had never seen before. I'll try to describe its features as best I can. The creature's body was a lumpy roll of flesh that was covered with bulging blisters and scars. Its legs were positioned backwards with its knees pointing up and they were so skinny

they looked like they would snap with excessive force. But its face was possibly the most horrifying. It had glossy, pure black eyes. The creature's nose was two holes where a human nose should have been, and it had teeth that were two inches long. They were bloody, and almost needle-like. I began feeling sick again. That thing smelled awful. I tried to run, but my feet were frozen in place. I tried to scream, but all that made it out was a dry breath. That creature must have heard my weak yelp, because it began to walk towards me.

Right away I went into fight-or- flight mode, and I chose to fight. I drew my little.22 and fired three shots into its head. The creature turned in pain and let out a deafening scream, but it sounded inhuman, sort of like five animals screaming at once. Then I ran. I knew that I only had a limited time before that thing came for me. I pumped my legs as fast as they would go and ran to my tent, grabbing my phone. I ran to my ATV that was parked nearby. I pushed the little 150cc engine as fast as it could go and drove to my truck. I started my engine and drove the heck out of there. I've gone on multiple camping trips since then and haven't seen that thing or any other creature like that again. And I hope to never see it again. I advise you all if you ever go camping in Blanton National Forest,

beware of the creature that roams there. Also, let me know if you ever see anything like it. Camp safely. Werewolf in Oklahoma From Anthony R. This happened a year ago when I was 14, in a part of the woods of Oklahoma. I was on a trip with my parents, my two sisters, my two aunts, my uncle, and four cousins. We rented a cabin so we could stay for a week.

When we got there, we unpacked all our things and got everything inside. After that, I went out to check out the woods surrounding the cabin. There was nothing but trees for miles, as far as the eye could see. Well, I did spot a lone deer grazing, which was nice. Everything seemed normal. We went out to go pick up some food at the nearest restaurant later. When we got back, we found these huge paw prints, unlike anything I'd ever seen in my life. Back home, we had three dogs, two small ones and a big one. I've measured my big dog's paw prints before, and they're about as big as my hand. But this, this was much bigger. I asked my father what kind of wild dogs left these paw prints. He said maybe they belonged

to a coyote, or worst case scenario, a wolf. It didn't stay on our minds long, as after that we watched a movie while eating some dinner. After that it was getting dark and we went to bed. I was sleeping in the living room and the rest of my family slept in their own rooms. I stayed up for a while on my phone playing games. All of a sudden I heard noises coming from outside. It sounded like a large dog panting. I don't know what got a hold of me,

but I figured I would go see what it was from the window. What I saw gave me goosebumps. There were two glowing orange eyes. From my experience, it looked like a wolf's glowing eyes from what I've seen in movies and documentaries. But the weird thing was, the eyes were about 7 or 8 feet off the ground, by far drastically different from the height of a normal wolf. I was horrified, so I quickly ducked down.

After 5 minutes I looked back and the creature, who knows what it was, was gone. I slowly walked back over to the couch, then hid under the covers until the sun came up. The following morning me and my family were eating breakfast. I didn't bring up what I saw last night, because they wouldn't believe me or they would call me crazy. The next two days nothing else happened, but something did happen on the third day. Me and my older cousin decided to go walking in the woods. No one else wanted to come with us, so it's just the two of us. While we were walking, we were talking about video games and other things. When we stopped talking, we noticed

the woods were dead silent. I stopped my cousin and he noticed that as well. After a few minutes, we heard the sound of a stick breaking under the weight of something's footstep. By instinct, we turned in the direction of the noise, and what we saw will forever haunt us. There stood a large wolf, covered in dark fur, yet it looked especially muscular, and its front paws looked like human hands. Then the wolf stood up on its hind legs, and it towered over me and my cousin.

It snarled at us. We could see most of its horrid teeth. Oddly enough, while some of them were sharp, many of them looked like human teeth. My cousin and I ran for it back to the cabin, but we could hear that thing right behind us. It sounded like it was running on all fours. We didn't look back in fear that doing so would slow us down. By some miracle, we made it back to the cabin, and only then did we turn around and find the wolf creature was gone.

We ran inside and locked the door, our family surprised at the sudden and panicked entrance. They asked us what happened and we told them everything. My sisters and my other cousins did not believe us. One of my aunts was shocked, my mother was frightened, my other aunt didn't believe us as well. But both my father and uncle believed us. My father warned the rest of my family to not go outside without an adult.

It was getting late. We stayed up watching TV, a bit nervous. That's when all of us heard an ear-piercing howl, and now the rest of my family believed what me and my older cousin were talking about. What happened next terrified my entire family. We heard the front door being scratched by something. My father was about to go look through the window, but then we saw it. That wolf creature was at the window already. Its eyes were glowing or reflecting orange, and it was snarling at us.

My father and my uncle both grabbed their rifles. They turned on the porch light and went outside to confront it. But by then, the wolf creature was gone. But it had left something in its wake. My family and I went outside to look, and we were dumbfounded. A multitude of dead animals were scattered all over the place, as well as bloody claw marks on the door. We went back inside and locked all the doors and windows. My father kept guard, in case it came back. The rest of us tried to sleep, still terrified.

A few hours later, I was still awake. I felt my eyes drawn toward the window, and there I saw it, just peering in at me, staring. Soon after, it turned around and disappeared into the dark woods. Why was it observing us? I went back to bed, still scared, and I didn't get much sleep that night. In the morning, we ate breakfast, packed all our things, and headed home, and we never went back into those woods again. We're still terrified of those events. Nowadays, I believe that what my family encountered was a werewolf or a dogman. There have been sightings of this creature all over the world and missing reports of people disappearing in the woods.

I wonder if they're connected. I'm just glad my family and I did not become the werewolf or dogman's next victims. Who knows what could have happened if that thing had managed to find a way inside. Peace River Shadow Demons From Osborne007 I was on vacation with my sister and her husband in Florida. We were staying at the campground at Walt Disney World, but I grew tired of the crowds. So I headed south and eventually ended

up in a town called Arcadia. Staying at a campground there, I decided after a day or two that I wanted to play some golf. So I went up to a local golf course near the Peace River Wilderness area. It was an easy course, and I was alone. The 18th hole had water on the right and an elevated green surrounded by sand traps. I gave the ball a good whack, being careful to hit a draw avoiding the water. It landed right in the middle of the fairway. The green was pretty intimidating. The sand traps were deep and the green had a narrow passage. Taking out my three wood, I hit down on the ball as hard as I could and off it went. It was heading straight for the rough, but I knew it would turn because I was so far in front of the ball.

It turned out alright and actually turned over. It rolled right up the green and stopped four feet in front of the hole. I really wanted to make this pot, so I walked around the hole until I could see the perfect shot. I knew speed was going to be important. When I hit it, I immediately regretted hitting it too hard, but it bent to the right and went right in the center of the cup for a birdie. I was honestly elated. I remember thinking, dear lord, if I died today, I'd die a happy man. But I would soon regret that thought. I heard a bird caw behind me, and in a bush on the edge of the green was a raven, sitting on a branch in the bush. As I was leaving, in a good mood, I looked at the raven and spoke to it. Sorry, Mr. Raven, but I don't have any crackers.

He looked at me with his head cocked to one side, peering at me with one eye. Then he gave me another couple of caws. He didn't budge as I walked past him. I told him, playfully, in the way of Lou Costello, to shut up. He flew off, which surprised me as he was so large I didn't think he could fly. As I walked around the bush

and I looked, he was gone. There wasn't anywhere he could have gone, though. There was a field across the street But he just disappeared As I got into my pickup truck A cold breeze hit me in the face This was strange as it was 78 degrees out

When I got into my truck The cab was cold too The windows had been closed So it should have been hot I headed back towards town Thinking about stopping at Sonic The windows had been closed, so it should have been hot. I headed back towards town, thinking about stopping at Sonic, getting one of those big old cheeseburgers and tots with jalapenos and cheddar cheese. Along the way, I saw a sign that said,

Wilderness Road Boat Launch, and a voice in my head said, Go down there. I pulled over for a minute, considering that the dirt road was pretty washboarded, but the voice in my head said, go down there. I pulled over for a minute considering that the dirt road was pretty washboarded, but the voice in my head continued, you're on vacation, explore a little bit. The road was long and bumpy. It led down deep into the woods, but I finally came to the boat lodge. There was only one vehicle there with a boat trailer on it. I parked my truck and pulled out my fishing rod. After some time, I realized

there wasn't much biting in this river. Peace River is a wilderness area used by canoers. It's very remote. I noticed a Tarzan swing, but decided it wasn't a good idea to use it since I was by myself. If something bad happened, I'd be alone.

But the voice in my head said, What are you, a coward? I felt pressured to give it a try. It felt as if something was holding me back a little bit. As I let go, I tried to arch my body, but my hip hit a ledge. I was upside down in the water seeing stars and my hip was screaming in pain.

I didn't know which way was up, but being a scuba diver, I let out a little bit of air and followed the bubbles to the surface. Climbing up the bank was almost impossible. It was so steep. One of the steps was very high and I realized my hip was broken. I tried pulling my way up and I fell all the way back down, almost passing out from the pain. I realized that going down the river might be my best bet. I headed for the lodge.

There were several blowdowns, that is, trees that had fallen across the river, which wasn't very wide. And each time I crawled over one of these blowdowns, the pain would just take the energy right out of me. So I'd rest for a while. At one point, I saw a 10-foot gator on the shore. He seemed surprised, and as he jumped in the water, he slammed his mouth shut, squirting me right in the face with a bucket full of murky brown water. I remembered thinking, so that's what gators do to confuse their prey.

But he just swam on by. He did hit me with his tail by accident. I rested for a while, considering my my situation and started to call for help. I then noticed that there were shadows moving along in the woods. I focused on them. They were darker than a moonless night, darker than outer space, darker than a room with no windows. I continued to crawl with my body floating in the water, my left hip totally immobilized.

Looking back, I noticed the shadows were in fact following me. When I came to the next blowdown, I called out in a calm voice, I can see you. And I swear one of those shadows stuck its head out from the crotch of a tree and then poured down the side of the tree like dirty motor oil. It pulled up on the ground and it began to head towards me like an army of black ants. They then rose up to form a shape that reminded me of the little guy on the men's room door sign.

Like I said, this thing was jet black. It looked like somebody had taken a cookie cutter of a gingerbread man and cut a hole in our dimension. On the other side of that hole was absolutely nothing. It began to flash back and forth very quickly with traces behind it. The other two, there were three shadows altogether, were not quite as dark as the lead entity. They kind of stood back. I thought to myself, is this supposed to scare me? He immediately stopped and began to do a Bela Lugosi thing with his arm walking back and forth. I actually laughed out loud. He stopped and walked right up to me. I turned away, and a little voice in my head said,

You know what to say. And I thought, I do? The little voice said to me, To say in the name of Jesus Christ be gone. Hold your head up high and yell it. I did as the voice said, and all three of those shadows disappeared right away. I continued my painful journey towards the launch and finally reached it. Yelling towards the sky, I said, Dear Lord, please send some help. Anybody. A boat then pulled up. I called out for help. A man approached from the boat. Oddly enough, he had a revolver in his hand, and he asked me a question first. This ain't some DEA trick, is it? No, I busted my hip. I need some help, please.

I replied. They got me the help I needed, and I didn't say anything about the poached gator in the back of their boat. I was just thankful to be out of that situation. Uninvited Guest at the Campfire From Yume130794 Romania is a country where people might get kidnapped, murdered, disappear, and so on. My parents were legitimately afraid for me, and were against the idea.

I had to lie to them, saying that we would stay in a hotel near the Kosia National Park, so they would get off my back. Obviously, that's not what we did. Long story short, we had to travel from Bucharest to this park, which is around 200 kilometers in, two hours by train. We got our immense backpacks, everything we needed, and went on our way. Nothing really happened on the train, save for the fact that the train was overly crowded, all except for our compartment, which is really rare for Romanian trains. I was excited thinking that we'd have the whole compartment to ourselves. That didn't last long, though. At a certain point, a man entered our compartment, accompanied by a beautiful German shepherd. I love all kinds of animals, cats and dogs in

particular. I usually find my way around all animals, even, cats and dogs in particular. I usually find my way around all animals, even those that don't like people. But not this dog. No. This dog was otherworldly. He looked so stiff, as if he was a stuffed animal. He would listen to his owner's every single command. I was impressed by this, so obviously I began asking the man about his dog.

After all, it would be a long and awkward trip in which to have complete silence. The man was exactly like the dog. He would not contribute to the conversation and would only speak to give commands to the dog. The little information I got from him was that his dog's name is Uchi Gashul, which in Romanian means the killer. It's a very weird name to give a dog. In this particular example, we would use the English word as it is, not translate it to the Romanian word, and name the dog that. But I thought, to each their own. I asked him why such a scary name, and he bluntly replied, This dog is trained to kill. It's the only thing he likes and is good at. Now, I personally consider that a dog will grow up to have similar personality to its owner,

and most of the times I would judge people with dogs and how that animal reacts to the world and to his owner. But let me tell you, these two did not give me a good vibe. I brushed everything over thinking to myself that maybe this guy is training his dog to hunt in the woods. Then I began thinking which woods are legal to hunt in in our country. While I was thinking about that, the guy out of nowhere asks us if we are traveling to the Kosia National Park. That was surprisingly accurate, considering the only time we mentioned the place was in the train station

long before we found our seats, and way longer before we found our seats, and way longer before we even met this man. Again, I thought it was nothing, because in my country, people who happen to go in the same direction will try to make small talk and guess where you're heading. Of course, you can just lie to keep safe of your destination or be honest. I took the honesty route, and I'm judging myself for that now. Never be too honest with strangers, or honest at all, after hearing this story. We confirmed we're going to that place, and we asked what else there is to see around. He began talking about the area, and well, considering we knew nothing about the place, we took it all in.

He told us about the woods, the vegetation, the animals we might encounter, told us about a beautiful monastery right at the bottom of the mountain that we needed to climb, advised us to visit the Lotri Shore waterfall and explore the caves behind it and to try out the local restaurant. When this guy started talking about the wilderness and nature, his eyes glowed as if he was experiencing a pleasant memory. But he also grabbed his dog's collar from the neck. Squeezing it tight, the collar made a loud clink sound. What surprised me was that the dog made no move, no whimper, no twitch, nothing. Just like a stuffed animal. Anyway, we reached our destination and said our goodbyes. The man waved at us, and we turned away

from him to head on our way. But I turned back around right away. I wanted to ask where exactly that restaurant was. But the man and dog were no longer there. Not just that, but also their luggage was gone. That creeped me out a bit, but who cares? We were too thrilled for our first camping experience. We began walking with our backpacks on us, 10 kilos each, and reached a tunnel digging into the mountain. It looked amazing, exactly like those horror movie tunnels,

which, if traveled during the night, would make your hair stand straight up. Luckily for me, we traveled during the day. It wasn't a long tunnel. We could see the end, but by the time we got to the middle of it, we heard a whimper in the distance. It sounded like a dog crying in desperation for its life. We stopped.

My boyfriend looks at me with his, oh no, you're not going to take that dog with us, type of face, and tries to convince me to take a different route. We don't. I hear the dog and I go right towards the sound, and in the middle of the road, I see this chubby puppy with lots of white and brown circle on his butt, crying so hard and lying on the cement, looking really hurt. It was as if he had been run over by a car. I freeze, thinking to myself that our trip is over. I have to save this dog.

We call for him and he looks at us, pointy ears perking up. He gets up and like a doofus starts running desperately to us. He was alone and afraid. We called him Rudolph, and now he was our camping buddy. About one kilometer further we find another puppy, probably his sister, which we dragged from the nearby river. It seems someone threw her in the river to kill her. All wet, cold, and hungry. Of course, we take her with us as well. So there we were, 10kg backpacks each, two puppies at my chest, boyfriend with the map,

trying to find a spot to camp the first night. We pass by the monastery the man in the train mentioned, but because we had these puppies, we couldn't enter inside the building. The priests wouldn't allow us, so we continued walking around the property, through the gardens, until we reached the base of the mountain we had to climb. I'd like to mention that these puppies were two tiny little brats, because the second you put them down and forced them to walk on their own, they would slam their butts to the ground and cry. Such drama. We walk and walk and walk until we decide to stop, as it was getting late, and I was starting to feel cold. We found a spot next to a small landmark type of cottage, in the middle of the wood. We call it Trojanica. It's like a scouting post but for the church, where they place religious icons or a bible, stuff like that, inside to bring good energy to the area.

It belongs to the church. It wasn't like a house, it was basically a roof with four small walls and an opening, not a door. You could go in to hide from the rain, for example. There was an icon inside and a Bible with pages ripped from it. Curious as I am, I opened the Bible. I was really annoyed to see that people would write down their names in it, like couples do on the trees. But on one particular page, the words, I will find you, stuck out. This was written in red ink. Again, I thought to myself that it was probably someone

who wanted to scare travelers with silly messages. I put the book back, and I gave it no second thought. We put up the tent, made the fire, and unpacked, making some food to eat. We fed the puppies, which were now cuddled up in our tent, and finally, darkness began to fall all around us. My boyfriend always kept the fire up every hour, because when it went off,

it felt as if all the sounds in the woods were louder and closer to us than in reality. Soon it was 12am. We're all in the tent cuddling to keep warm. The puppies wake up and they start to cry. I get up and unzip the tent and I put them out to pee. They do their business and I get them back in. They cry some more and the smallest one

starts to shiver. At the same time, I hear grunting from behind our tent. My boyfriend is up too. He can hear it as well and our fire is beginning to fade. The moment he unzips the tent and steps out, the sound disappears into the woods. It sounded like a snake slithering through the fallen leaves on the ground, but with unimaginable speed. I ask him, was that a snake? He says up to this day that he can't explain what he saw, but this is what he says, that it was a slithery figure with feet that made a snort-like sound when the light hit it. The puppies calmed back down after this creature ran off into the woods. We tried to go back to sleep after we reignited the fire. It's 3am when we wake up again, and the puppies are once again fussing.

The fire's nearly dead. We clearly have no idea to put up a sustaining fire, we think to ourselves. My boyfriend gets up to search for firewood, and I get out as well. I stare into the dark, and I swear to god I hear whispering coming from between the trees. I look up at the sky, consider it's 3am, and I hear birds being very loud and fluttering their wings. Now, I'm no expert in birds, but don't they usually sleep around this time? Well, these weren't. They were very active, very vocal, and very frustrated. I look at the fire and follow the red sparks popping out of it into the sky, and I become fascinated with something. The spark doesn't seem to die. It goes on and on, changing color from hellish red to green.

This was very out of the ordinary for me, as it created an illusion hard to explain. It looked as if the fire sparks were going into the woods, creating a track for me, probably to follow. I kept looking after each spark to see when it burnt out, but none of them did. They would levitate, turn green, and flow into the woods. At that moment, I began to get goosebumps on my skin. The birds being agitated, the mysterious light pointing us to go deeper into the woods, and all the trees

around us having eyes on them, by which I mean the trunks had distinguished shapes that looked exactly like eyes. I know this is nothing paranormal since someone explained that those shapes form when a branch is ripped from the root, and that's the shape that is left after. But there were so many of them, like hundreds of eyes all looking at the exact spot where we decided to camp, and all we had was that tiny religious landmark to mentally protect us. As I inspect my surroundings, I hear movement in one of the bushes in front of our tent, like 10 meters away from us. Obviously, I stand my ground but don't go near it. Suddenly, a dark, bent-over silhouette comes

out of it, and half inside the bush, half outside of it, it stares at us. I call my boyfriend over, and we're both freaking out, wondering what it is. Is it a bear cub? A wolf? A pig? The creature shakes its head the same way a dog does after a bath, and I hear a distinguished clink. Like a dog collar. My boyfriend manages to light up the fire really big, which scares this animal to run back into the woods, through the bush from which it initially came out. That calms us down,

but not enough to close our eyes again for a while at least, during that night. Going back into the tent, after a while my boyfriend does fall asleep, and by then the puppies are sound asleep, but not me. I kept the zipper on the tent opened a little, just enough to have my eye peek through it, watching the previously mentioned bush. I think I spent a solid hour staring and falling asleep to that bush.

All of a sudden, I hear a noise coming from that direction, and I immediately wake up my boyfriend, who's now peeking through the hole in complete darkness with me. What we saw next still haunts my dreams. From that exact same bush, we see a human head pop out and look towards our tent. Note that our peeping hole was small enough to not make it look like you were being watched from the inside of the tent. This head is slowly coming out of the bush, skin so white we thought it was a ghost. After that, a shoulder, and another shoulder, a full torso, a leg. Bit by bit an entire man emerged from the bush, completely nude, lit by both the moon and

our fire. What he did next was excruciatingly scary for me. He comes so close to our tent and begins to remove branches, rocks, from our fire, basically trying to extinguish and ruin our fire by dismantling it. This all happened like two to three meters from our tent. I look at the man with horror, because I recognized him, and now the clink I heard earlier from that animal is explained. It's the man from the train, with his dog too. I don't know if he followed us, I don't know if he just went the same route as us and found us and decided to stalk us, but this guy was there since 12am at least, because our fire would be dead every two to three hours. We'd be awakened by the sound of branches being cracked, rocks being

moved, which we internally explained as animals crossing the land. After he successfully managed to put out our fire, he slowly crept back into the same bush, submerging into it bit by bit until only his head would be out, with a disfigured looking mouth, looking like a moaning ghost. Yeah, you try going back to sleep after that. We didn't know what to do, so we just got back out, reignited the fire, lit ourselves some torches, and stayed near the campfire until the first rays of the sun came up. I admit I did fall asleep while sitting down next

to the fire, and so did my boyfriend. But any small sound would wake us up. I was too afraid to go near that bush. I didn't need any answers or any explanations. I just wanted daylight so we could get the heck out of there. And we did. We packed our things and got the heck out of there.

We had planned a four-day camping trip, and this experience made us give up after the first night. It was a risk we did not intend to take. If that man followed us, or if it was just a coincidence, it was enough to ruin it all. As a conclusion to my story, and as advice to any first-time campers out there, never tell your location or even the area remotely close to your destination to strangers. You don't know where their minds take them, and what they end up doing. Always stay safe, always be aware of your surroundings, and any changes that come to you under the form of sounds, movements, changes of temperature, and so on. Always find a way to protect yourself.

It had been in the middle of September when my family and I had decided to go boondock camping. For those of you who don't know what boondocking is, boondocking is when you're in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, no running water, nothing but just you and nature. My family and I were all geared up to go camping, and we drove to the Hoosier National Forest. We were already in Indiana. As soon as we got there, we went ahead and set up our tent. My sister and I had decided to go gather up some firewood in front of the forest, and we brought our

dog along with us. He was a medium-sized dog, great for protection. While my sister and I were gathering up wood, we were talking and laughing as girls do, when suddenly we heard what sounded like someone walking slowly behind us. We turned around and realized that there was no one there. My sister and I looked at each other, then looked at our dog, whose hair was standing up like it does when he goes into protective mode. I kneeled down and told my dog that it was just a squirrel running across another tree, but I knew that that was not what that was.

I don't know if I said it to reassure me, my dog, or my little sister, who was very scared. It had soon become nighttime, when we were all in the tent snuggled and listening to music, while laughing and joking. It had been late at night when my mother and sister had fallen asleep, so it had to just be me and my dad and we were still awake. When we heard what sounded like a woman screaming in pure pain, as if she were being murdered, or running away from someone, or even something worse.

After hearing this, my dad and I rushed out of the tent to see what it was, but we didn't see anything. We figured it had been a panther or bobcat around us, so we had gone back into the tent and stayed up some more, just to make sure that everyone was safe. An hour and a half goes by, and my dad hears what sounds like a woman screaming again, except this time it is different. When we heard the scream, it was right by our tent. And then a few minutes go by,

and it was on the other side of my tent. And then in a few more seconds, it was right behind my tent, and then in a few more seconds, it was right behind my tent. Now I know enough about bobcats and panthers to know what they sound like and how fast they can move from one place to another. And whatever this is, it was no animal. This was no bobcat or panther this time like me and my dad had thought. My dad had grabbed his rifle and I had grabbed my seven inch bladed knife and we rushed outside.

My dad and I looked around using our flashlights that we had. My dog had come with us and at once, my dog's hairs were standing up. My dad and I had seen nothing, but we knew my dog was seeing something that we could not see, and that terrified me. My dad could see that I was terrified as soon as he saw nothing, but my dad saw my dog's hair standing up. After seeing his hair like that and not seeing anything, the air goes stiff and everything is dead silent. My dad cocks his rifle to scare something away if something was out there, but my dad and I had known better.

We knew that there was no animal there. Of course, I think he did that to make me feel better, and more safe. We had gone into the tent, and my sister was wide awake with fear on her face. I asked what was wrong, and she said she had heard whispering behind her. But how was that possible? She was in the tent.

I reassured her everything was okay and to go back to sleep. So she did. The next morning, we all moved our tent closer to some other people who were boondock camping as well. The same thing happened that night, but much worse. My parents had gone for a walk to talk. My sister and I were in the tent reading our books. Out of nowhere we hear, I looked at my sister in horror

because it was right beside her side of the tent. No sooner than I looked at her, we both heard this very, very loud scream right behind her as if a lady was being murdered. It sounded like she was above my sister outside. My sister's eyes widened in fear, and she ran over to me. We waited for our parents to come back.

They asked what was wrong, so we told them. We all stayed up until we saw the thin light of day, and then we packed up and left. We don't know what is in the forest that night, but we know it wasn't a bobcat or a panther. We did know one thing, and that was that we would never go back to the Hoosier National Forest ever again. The Wahila and the Wendigo From Michael I'm a 31-year-old male named Michael.

I'm part native, more specifically the Heta tribe of Alaska. Many of my people believe in the Wahila, a giant white wolf, that can be good or bad, depending on your respect for wildlife. It is a guardian that protects people, but it will harm those who disrespect wildlife. Now that you have a brief understanding of what the Wahila is, on to the story. At the time, I had just turned 25 and went to go out camping with my friends. We planned to have a good night full of drinking and games. At around 11, most of us were wasted, besides me and my brother Charlie, being the only ones that weren't heavy drinkers. We were really sober.

At the time, me and my girlfriend, now wife, were talking about how we were going to sneak away for some alone time. That's when we heard a loud yell coming from right in front of us. We both turned to find my friend Brad managing to slip and land face first onto a rock, he wasn't getting up. My brother got up and ran towards Brad, picking him up and checking his pulse to see if he was even still alive. We needed to get him to a hospital, just in case he had a concussion and to treat any wounds before he gets infected. So my brother and everyone decided to drive him to the hospital, but I stayed back to pack everything up. Out of nowhere, I heard someone whispering my name.

At first, I thought it was my girlfriend, who I figured decided to stay behind too. But that wasn't right. She was leading them to the hospital in her car. So, who was whispering my name? I ran to my car to grab the.45 I kept in the center console, then went back to picking everything up. But then I heard someone yelling for help. This time it was in a more distorted way, like if they were swishing nails in their mouth. As soon as I heard that yell, I knew it was a wendigo. I felt like an idiot. They've been reported throughout the reservation, and now I was all alone, possibly being hunted by the thing. I run over to the fire pit, throwing more logs into it. A wendigo should not come

towards the light. I stayed there until the sounds of the forest came back, and I went back to packing up. But no sooner had I finished packing up, the forest went quiet again. This time, I bolted towards the fire when something pounced on my back. I stayed still and didn't dare struggle. I could hear something sniffing me. This thing freaking breathed on me, and its breath smelled rotten, as if it had just eaten sewage. Then I listened to it speak. That's when I felt a hot stinging sensation going through my arm.

I felt its teeth sinking into my arm. I screamed and screamed as it bit into my flesh. I prayed that the spirits could help. I prayed that if I did die, someone would hunt this thing down and kill it. After a while, it quit biting my arm, but instead it flipped me over to where I faced it. It was pale, paler than the moon itself, eyes red with hatred and teeth dripping with my blood right onto my face. It looked at me, seemingly enjoying the fear I showed. It smiled at me, saying, Fear. fear I showed. It smiled at me, saying, fear. And then it screeched in my face, through the horrid sound. I thought I heard something else, like a howl, and I think it heard it too, as it began to sniff the air. The sound then came again, a long and down-to-the-gut howl. The Wendigo's eyes changed. They no longer showed anger and hunger, but instead fear.

It got off of me. Then I heard a growl, one that didn't come from the Wendigo. It came from right behind us. I looked and saw these beautiful blue eyes. But the eyes weren't of care, they were of hatred. The howl erupted again, coming from right where the creature was standing. I turned back to the Wendigo and it looked petrified. Something behind me began to walk. I turned and it was truly a beautiful sight. Those blue eyes belonged to a solid white wolf.

And though the eyes seemed angry, they were still quite majestic. The wendigo screeched at it and tried to run away from it. But in a flash of white, just like what had happened to me, it pounced on the wendigo's back and bit directly at the neck, twisting and pulling up. The wendigo's body flew over me and rolled right next to the fire pit. But it never got back up. I looked at the body and saw the head was gone. I looked back at the wahila whose beautiful white coat was now splashed with bits of red, and the mouth covered

in a crimson fluid. The eyes of anger were now fixed on me, but it never did attack me. Instead, it walked over to the Wendigo, snatching up its carcass in its mouth and walking off into the woods. I could no longer see it. I sat there in shock, and then I began to cry as I realized my most desperate prayers had been answered. I crawled over to my car, grabbing my phone and dialing 911. I requested an ambulance. As I sat there, fading in and out of consciousness, I heard the howl again, deep, down to the gut, as everything went black. When I woke up, there was a blinding light in my eyes.

The ambulance had finally arrived. I was placed on the stretcher and brought to the hospital. I think of this experience every time my birthday comes around. Now with my own kids, I teach them to respect wildlife and respect the spirits as I believe if it wasn't for respect I showed for wildlife, I wouldn't be around to share this story.

Never believe that we're on the top of the food chain, as there are things in this world that we will never comprehend. Take this warning, there is bad and there is good in the world, but in the end, respect both, because if you don't, you will not like the outcome. I live in a smallish college town in northern Utah, sandwiched near Idaho called Logan. My friends and I love to go camping up in the mountains to the east of town. There was one area we loved more than any called Temple Fork. We had explored the area extensively, as the town is small and there's not much to do. We loved to go hiking and shooting, and camping was oftentimes a weekend event.

Even if it was just a quick overnight, that made things pretty easy since we usually kept our gear in our trucks. So we just needed to get food prior to heading out. It was Friday night, and we stopped and grabbed some small sausages, some Cheetos, and some Dr. Peppers prior to cutting up towards the mountains. The areas closer to the highway were typically well maintained, and the roads were very easy to traverse. So frequently you would get people who liked the idea of camping, those that had trailers but wanted to play loud music or watch movies, You know, enjoy the creature comforts in the wild. For us, we didn't like setting up a tent next to someone camping in a trailer, so we usually went deeper into the woods on the bad roads, where it was more backcountry. We got up there around 7 p.m. and found a site situated with its back to a hillside, surrounded and secluded

by trees. Perfect. There would be no disturbing our evening with loud music. We set to work quickly as we had all camped a lot. Some guys set up the tent, others unpacked trucks, and a buddy and I started the fire. Shortly, we were all setting around the fire as it was starting to get dark, just roasting the sausages and chatting. After about an hour of chatting, one of my friends told us to shut up.

He thought he heard a branch snap up the hill. As the campsite was cloistered in trees, it was dark and there was no moonlight. We could only see what our lanterns and firelight had illuminated. We stopped and listened for a little bit, but we didn't hear anything, so we went back to talking. After only a couple of minutes, we heard what almost sounded like someone trying to quietly move through the brush towards our camp. Like you would hear a twig snap, but not like someone just marching down the hill. We stopped talking, and when we did the noise stopped, almost like it was listening to us. At this point, we were a little nervous.

We passed our theories to each other as to what it could be. There were mountain lions and black bears in this area, but how would it know to stop when we stopped talking? Mountain lions are a little skittish, but can be territorial. But we all doubted that it would be a mountain lion, because a mountain lion wouldn't approach fire and people. Mountain lions are typically pretty stealthy, too, and don't like direct confrontation unless you confront them with their cubs.

And a black bear wouldn't be smart or stealthy enough to sneak towards us. An elk, deer, or cow wouldn't bother being quiet. Was it a person stalking us? It didn't really make sense, as we hadn't seen a light or anything, and it was way dark. Someone walking through the dense underbrush through the pines would have a hell of a time getting to us without being able to be seen in the dark. We nervously went on talking with one ear peeled for our mysterious friend. Whatever or whoever it was got within a hundred feet of the camp up the hill when we heard a really loud branch snap. I think they knew it when we knew it was there and lost all pretense of being stealthy.

We were all young outdoorsmen, so usually camping included fishing or hunting the next day. So fishing rods, handguns and rifles, and even our shotguns were not an anomaly in our trucks. I ended up walking to my truck and grabbing my shotgun. I only had target pellets, but those can still do quite a bit of damage up close. We didn't hear it move any further. It almost seemed to be scoping us out. I racked around into my shotgun and fired into the air to see if that would get a response. Whatever it was, it tore up the mountains, not caring if we heard it at this point

or not. It went from 100 feet away to several hundred and thirty seconds or less. It sounded big. The footfalls sounded heavy as it ran. I don't think it was a person. The brush and fallen logs would have made it almost impossible to run that fast in the dark. You would have eaten dirt from tripping. I don't think it was an animal either, though. How would it know to stop moving when we stopped talking? We packed up right then and there and got the hell out. We never returned to the campsite for an overnight again,

but still sometimes stopped to check it out. I shudder to think what would have happened if we decided to stay overnight. Walkie Talkie in the Woods from Jack36 I recall a time back in the days when I was a kid. It may not have been the scariest experience I've had, but it certainly was bizarre in nature and makes me seriously question reality. Since I've become an adult, I haven't been hiking or exploring nearly as often for pretty

obvious reasons. Having a job, tending to family, etc. I still try to go out every once in a while and when I do, it brings back so much nostalgia. I've tried my best not to think about the bad experiences I've had out in the woods. But sometimes, I can't help myself. Just a few days ago when I was driving to get groceries, I went through a tunnel, and that's when my radio cut out. You know the typical static you get when the broadcasting service isn't available, right?

Well, there it was, as clear as ever, as I went through that tunnel. It gave me goosebumps. I'd never been one for that sound to begin with, but it only made it worse as I encountered a flashback so vivid back to when I was only 10 years old. This is where the real story begins. It was your typical weekend afternoon, and I was with my friend Joe. We'd been lifelong buddies to that point in time, and we still continue to talk every now and then to this day. It was fall. The leaves were in the process of changing color. It looked beautiful outside.

We were in my backyard admiring the forest that backed into my family's property. There was a vast amount of forest to explore back there, and we hadn't been through all of it just yet. We had been obsessed with becoming army men back then, and we had the whole setup. Walkie-talkies, tactical pocket knives, camo backpacks, airsoft pistols, and things of that nature. At one point, Joe interrupted the conversation we were having about my grade school crush. He said to me, hey, wanna go play army guys in the forest? I grudgingly agreed,

but at the same time I knew playing army guys would be a lot of fun. Basically, it was just tactical hide and seek, but with our wild imaginations it was so much more. Joe said he'd try to capture me first, and I agreed. So I ran a good amount into the forest and found a tree to climb up on. Nature sounds consumed me. It was so calming outside. I then turned my walkie talkie on and waited for him to call in, to let me know he was on his way to find me. I sat there for a while. Before long, I spotted a deer eating berries from a bush not too far off. It hadn't noticed me yet, so I sat there admiring it. Suddenly, my walkie-talkie started giving off major amounts

of static. Something had happened. I knew I hadn't switched to any other channel and that I remained on the one with my friend. But even so, high-pitched sounds began to emanate from the walkie-talkie. I saw the deer perk up, then run away. I was completely alone then. I was frightened then, and I wasn't exactly sure of what to do.

Goosebumps consumed my body. I was frozen in fear as the static slowly subsided, giving way to some sort of demonic howl. It lasted about three seconds, then all was silent. All of the wood's sounds were dead. I heard absolutely nothing after that. I knew something was wrong, and I knew I had to get out of there. The static

had gone too. It seemed to have happened all at once. I turned off the walkie-talkie, jumped off the tree, and made a run for it back to my house. Joe was waiting for me there, a look of concern on his face. My parents were outside, visibly hysterical, phone in hand. They had called the police to send someone over to help locate me.

As I ran out of the tree line towards them, my parents ran up to hug me. I was scared and confused. My parents asked me how I got so lost in the forest. I sat there puzzled, not knowing how to respond to that. All I could say was, I don't know. I was apparently gone for two hours. Joe kept insisting that he had spoken through his walkie-talkie trying to contact me countless times.

After a while, he had given up, so he went back to tell my parents. Although I was in a new part of the woods, I was able to successfully trace my way back. What confused me, though, was how we were both notably on the same channel, but I didn't hear a thing from him. And what confused me even more

was the time that I'd been out. I had no idea I was gone for that long. The time I'd been out there felt so brief. Eventually, we cleared everything up with the police. My friend and I had a talk with my parents about not going into the woods again without supervision. And that was that. Well, a week after that,

Joe did tell me something no one else knew. He said he didn't want to tell my parents this because he was scared and he didn't want to get in trouble. Admittedly, he even had trouble bringing himself to tell me what he saw. Even though I never heard from him over the walkie talkie, he claimed he saw someone who looked exactly like me. The figure's back was turned as Joe started running towards it. As he began to yell my name, whatever it was, took an impossibly huge step away from him. Joe stopped dead in his tracks.

Whoever it was then turned around to face him and slightly waved a grin on their face. He claimed it was me. The only notable difference was my eyes. They were black. At that point, a feeling of dread washed over him. This figure that looked just like me stood there staring at Joe. Joe ran as fast as he could back to my house not looking back. He told me he didn't think he was chased or followed. When he got back to my house he simply said I was lost and wouldn't pick up

the walkie-talkie. He never mentioned anything else out of fear of what would happen if he did. To this day, we've kept that between ourselves. We've never told another soul. I still have no idea what happened that day, and I'm sharing this story in hopes that at least one person will have the slightest idea of what happened. It's Difficult to Live Here From Christopher P.

I live in southwest Oregon. Several years back, I was offered a living situation on 80 acres of forested land as a caretaker. This land is absolutely stunning. It was logged back in the 50s, but everything had grown back since, and fortunately, a few of the old legacy trees were spared. I've made hiking trails out of some of the old deer trails when the poison oak isn't too bad. At times, it seems like paradise, but there has come a sense of unease as well. To put it into perspective, I live in an old farm cabin that was built in the 1930s as part of some kind of goat farming outfit. A friend of mine, who is almost like a father to me, who has owned the property since the

60s, said the young man who used to live there was real sketchy. When he first moved into the house, before he built a new home elsewhere, all the house's windows were painted black and there were a few other odd, off things about it. The house sits in a box canyon, one way in, one way out, with a neighbor across the street at the end of the half-mile driveway into the canyon. The canyon walls are very steep and heavily forested, with the Bureau of Land Management, BLM, public lands backing up to all the sides of the property's boundaries. There are really old, decrepit logging roads up on the BLM lands, but the two access points

to these roads are heavily gated up and off-limits. I've walked these old roads, as I've made some of my hiking trails up to them, and they're a good place to see wildlife. When I first moved onto the property, it seemed for months I would hear what sounded like metal banging behind my house up in the woods. The area it was coming from is heavily forested, and there's no houses up there for dozens of miles. area it was coming from is heavily forested, and there's no houses up there for

dozens of miles. Whatever it was, it didn't sound like an echo or something of that nature. It sounded real close. The friend of mine, the property owner, had said he had heard something similar throughout the years, and would often contact BLM authorities to investigate. I'd also hear voices. I was home alone one day and heard people talking outside. My partner wasn't home, and so I called him and let him know what was up. I then went out with my bear mace and my jacket to see what was going on. But no one was out there.

Just a cold day, though everything was oddly quiet. The neighbor would often tell us that she hears people's voices in the woods too, and yells out to them, but gets no replies, and she would ask if we were in the woods yelling that day, and we most certainly weren't. You also get the feeling of being watched. I know this is just a feeling and one could brush it off as paranoia, but it's a feeling so strong, like something or someone is watching you from the tree line. My dog also goes off at all hours in a tangent, and when I investigate, there's never anything there. A few times I've come home and he's running around loose. Someone let him out of his play area that I set up for him when I'm away,

in town or something. I also seemed to find odd things on my hikes up to the BLM lands. I once found what seemed like an old trash pit from the 70s or something with old car parts, springs from a mattress, and really old Coke cans. But there was also baby shoes

and women's high heels. Something about it just made me cringe a little. This has all come to a head recently when a friend of the owner came to hunt the property for deer. He's an elderly Native American man who comes every year during the autumn months.

He came back this time and said while he was hunting, he went up to the BLM land and stumbled across some bones. At first, he assumed from a distance that they were some long dead animal, until

he got closer. He saw what appeared to be the bones of a human hand. He came down and told us of this, and then he contacted the authorities. Apparently, the authorities also think it's a human hand, and are doing further investigation. The voices, the feelings, the metallic banging sounds, the items in the trash pile, the bones.

It all doesn't sit right with me, and every evening when I'm walking the property to put my chickens away for the night, I get a real ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it can all be explained rationally, but it doesn't make me feel any better living here.

A Night Hike I Will Never Forget From PX5389 This took place about a year ago, back before I graduated high school. To give this story some background information, I'm from New York. I live in the Catskill region, so I have access to amazing hiking trails. There's many mountain ranges and hiking paths in this particular area alone that I enjoy going on. I live in a more suburban setting, while my friend lives in a more rural section of the county. My friend Ryan was lucky enough to have his house back right into the

Catskill Nature Preserve. Since this story took place, he has moved. Fortunately, he still lives close to me. I think it's better he doesn't live there anymore anyway, after what happened. I recall the spectacular times when he had first moved into that house There was a pool and jacuzzi on top of an amazing stone patio Beyond the fence was a well-structured fire pit That was right next to a path Which leads to an outstanding hiking trail The hiking trail then leads to a railroad Which, once crossed, allows you access to the steep mountain trail

that we would hike so often with our friend group. His family really hit the jackpot when they bought this house, and the time that we've had this friend group, we've encountered many things while hiking, exploring, and doing random stuff outdoors. However, from all the bizarre experiences that we've encountered,

we agreed in unison that this one was potentially the most life-threatening and scary. It came to the point where we stayed away from that trail for a solid two weeks. For us, that was a lot of time. We'd usually be hiking or exploring every other day. The afternoon that came prior to this night hike was a good one. I was hanging with Ryan and two other good friends, one of which had never been on a night hike with us. He was relatively new to our friend group, but fit right in. The only thing left was his so-called initiation into our group. We figured that the only way to test his true

character was through challenging him to lead us up the mountain path that we had all become very well acquainted with behind Ryan's backyard. Only thing was that he had never been on it at night. Unlike the rest of us, he had only hiked it by day It was his time to lead us up His time to prove to us that he was as daringly adventurous as the rest of us The afternoon went something along the lines of going for a drive into town and meeting up with a group of girls After that, we all went back to Ryan's place Using his pool and jacuzzi We took advantage of the fact that his parents had left town for a weekend getaway After that, we all went back to Ryan's place, using his pool and jacuzzi.

We took advantage of the fact that his parents had left town for a weekend getaway. We had the place to ourselves. However, we decided we weren't going to have a party tonight. So around 10, we had the girls leave. It was just us, the boys. We went beyond the gate of the backyard and started gathering some wood for a quick campfire, before we made our trek up the mountain. Around 11, we went back inside the house to gather some supplies.

You know, basic stuff like flashlights, pocket knives, and backpacks. After we had gathered our stuff, we made our way out onto the trail in his backyard. During the day, it was beautiful. After five minutes of being on the path, we would arrive at a spectacular field, which was full of tall grass, elevated from the path that you would naturally have just come off of, with a haze of sunlight and nature calling. However, it was dead out here right now. In the stillness of the dark, there was only the rustling of tall grass and the distant sounds of crickets. Although we felt somewhat on edge, knowing we were completely exposed, an unexplainable feeling of calmness had overtaken our beings. We walked across the grassland into the next part of the nature trail that led to the railroad.

The moon shone brilliantly across the sky, acting as a secondary guide apart from our flashlights. It took some time, however, because there was a patch of brambles we all had to crawl through one by one. As we resumed our hike after clearing the brambles, we closed in on the hill that led to the top of the railroad tracks. This hill will be of key importance later in the story. Jagged rocks lined the elevation, so it was somewhat like rock climbing. We all managed to make it up and came upon the tracks. It was desolate. Something about being on the railroad tracks at night with no one else around was such an incredible feeling. I can't describe it in words, but basically, I felt no attachment to reality, and I was just in the moment.

We just sat there on a few rocks, talking for a moment about life and our future exploration plans. Eventually, we carried on. Now, we entered into the real hiking path that led all the way up the mountain. It was about 11.30 now. It typically took us half an hour to get up to the lookout point that we'd usually go to. And let me tell you, seeing the riverfront of the Hudson and the surrounding town's lights around it was truly breathtaking.

I couldn't wait to see it once again. The darkness caused us no difficulty. We still were able to make it up in 30 minutes. We had gone on this trail with other people before, too. Normally, with your average person tagging along, the hike would usually take an hour. We, however, had become so well acquainted with the path that we basically knew where every darn rock was. There were no issues on the way up, apart from the subtle typical paranoia of some kind of animal watching us. If there were any though, we hadn't noticed. We made it to the top and enjoyed the view and had some meaningful conversations. Around 12.30, we decided to head back down. In my opinion, coming down was always

the best part. We literally ran down the mountain in an attempt to see who could get down to the railroad first. It took us around 20 minutes to get down. Like I said, we knew every part of the trail, and when it came to foot placement, we had absolutely no difficulty in avoiding rocks and tree branches coming down. This is the part where things become bizarre. I didn't mention it before, but when we'd come down the mountain, there was a fork in the trail. One part of the trail was longer while the other part was shorter. They both led back down and merged once again a few yards before you make it past the tree line and onto the tracks. This fork took

place midway down the mountain. Usually on the way up, we would take the faster route for obvious reasons. On the way down though, we had our newest official member of our group take the longer path down the mountain alone. It was sort of like a seal the deal kind of gesture. I look back to this day and wonder why in the world we told him to do that, and even more so why he agreed to do that. At that point, it was nothing really crazy to any of us. I guess that's only because we were so naive, and we'd never been exposed to anything critically unsafe. He'd be back down in 25 minutes, or so we thought, about 5 minutes after us. Once Ryan, my other friend, and I had gotten to the bottom of the mountain, we hid behind a big boulder, awaiting our other friend's arrival. Eventually,

we heard twigs snapping, and we expected to see our friend coming out. By this point, the moon had been covered by some clouds, so we were not able to make out the key details of the figure, but what we saw come out did not match the stature or physique of our friend. It was skinny and malnourished looking. It was shorter. Its arms came down much further than a human's, at least any human I'd ever seen, which only baffled me more. I could not make out any distinguishing features

of its head or face. We sat there just looking, not sure what to make of the situation. All of us in our minds could not stop thinking of our poor friend who was still alone out there. The guilt and anxiety that rushed through my body alone was enough to make me almost throw up. Whatever it was, it paused for a moment. Then, thankfully, walked the opposite way on the railroad away from us. It had made it around a quarter mile away when we heard more branches snap by the tree line.

At this point, we didn't know what to expect. My stomach dropped. Then my friend began calling our names. The last thing I wanted to do was make our presence known to whatever that thing was, though. I panicked. Our plan on pranking my friend had gone south. I gave one last glance into the distance and saw whatever it was continuing to walk in its own direction, down the railroad, not even flinching. I found this odd that it had just paid no attention to my friend. We all came out and whispered to him to quiet down. We asked if he saw anything or heard anything,

but he said no. He looked so confused and began to laugh. He said, if you guys are trying to prank me, it's not going to work. The hike was fine. I don't know why y'all are still screwing with me. After all, I was the one who had to go at it alone. As he said that, I glanced back at where the figure had been walking and didn't see it. It was impossible for it to have disappeared, unless it had gone back past the tree line. We all stood silent for a moment. I finally spoke for the group.

Listen, all you need to know is that we need to get back to Ryan's house right now. I was raising my voice at this point out of fear and insistence. Our friend was so lost and I know if he had experienced something surreal he would have told us.

I told everyone to hurry up, that we're gonna run. Whatever it was, we had lost all sight of it, and had no idea where it turned. We climbed down the rocky hill onto the path as quick as we could, sliding on the way down. We eventually made it back to the grassland, getting closer to Ryan's house. We started to walk, as we felt we were a safe distance away from that thing. As we walked across the field, we heard a screeching sound. My whole body shivered. I stood there as did everyone else. We all just looked at each other. Goosebumps infested my arms. I started to shiver uncontrollably.

We heard it again. It was distant, coming from the direction of the train tracks. The second time was the last time we heard it. It was every man for himself now. We scattered. It took us a few minutes to get back, but we made it, all of us. We sat there for 15 minutes discussing what the heck happened. All of us were in shock.

I know at this point in the story things looked bad, but it only got worse from there. As Ryan went inside to get his pistol in case anything came into the backyard, we all sat there in silence. A moment later, he came back in a panic. Guys, have you seen my phone? My heart sank. We all said no and after calling it many times with no success of hearing it, we were forced to accept the fact it was gone. Ryan was mad.

He was cursing under his breath and throwing stuff. We sat there just watching him, our minds still in shock. He took the magazine in his pocket, put it in the pistol and loaded it, and that got our attention. Then he said, I need that phone.

I can't afford to lose it. I sure as heck can't leave it out there. If my parents call to check in right now, I'll be screwed. It was one in the morning. We were all uneasy and didn't exactly want to go back in there after what we saw. We eventually agreed to accompany Ryan to the entrance of the field, but no further. We had gotten to the point of the trail with no luck. He was insistent on pressing forward, but all of us said,

You're crazy. Ryan replied, Fine, I'll go in. But you're going to keep calling the cell phone until I can hear it, okay? We agreed. We used my phone. As we called, the purest form of dread washed over me. Every time I heard the phone ring I thought someone would pick up and it wouldn't be

Ryan. After fifteen slow, agonizing minutes, the phone picked up all of a sudden, making us all jump. He said he got it, and we asked where he found it. Apparently, it was at the bottom of the rocky hill that led to the tracks. The fact that he was that far made me concerned. What if that person or creature was still out there? As we continued to talk, he abruptly stated he needed to go. Before I could say anything else, he hung up.

We sat there in isolation, waiting and dreading what was going to happen next. We were past the point of pranks. Whatever happened now was serious. I tried calling him back three times, but it went straight to voicemail. I figured this couldn't be a good sign

and he had either turned off his phone or put it on do not disturb mode for whatever reason. A few more minutes passed and we suddenly got a text from him. It said, Get back to the house. Not safe.

I'm there. I took another way. As we read that, we suddenly felt like we were being watched. That feeling you get when you're in the open and something might be lurking nearby. We were a few minutes from home, but in that time period, whatever the heck was out there could be watching us for all I knew. We took off back to the house and at one point my friend had tripped. Me and another friend ran back to help him, and we continued going all together. We eventually made it back, and Ryan was waiting for us. He yelled out,

Guys, get out of there! Now! We ran to him. He explained everything. He said he had been jogging through the woods and eventually heard a distinct buzzing sound, which he realized was his phone. It was right at the edge of the bottom of the rocky hill leading to the tracks. He says it must have fallen out of his pocket as he was sliding down the dang hill. He cautiously started walking. When in reach, he picked up his phone. After standing there for a few minutes,

distracted on a call with us to let us know that he'd found the phone, he heard something walking on top of the tracks, rocks crunching under the weight of something. That's when he hung up in fear of whatever he was hearing. He kept walking at that constant pace onward, continuing to hear the sounds, which he claimed sounded bipedal,

based on the amount of time it took for one foot to sink into the crunching rocks after the other. He couldn't see over the hill onto the train tracks, making it impossible to figure out what it was. He couldn't see over the hill onto the train tracks, making it impossible to figure out what it was. He ran back urgently, and only when he got back home he decided to text us. I thought this was kind of dumb to leave us hanging like that, but hey, we do stupid things when we're scared. We sat there just thinking what to do. We were quiet for a while, just listening to every sound and looking into the tree line,

anticipating something to happen. Eventually, we heard rustling coming from the woods. Ryan, scared out of his mind, shot off around into the woods. Whatever was in there ran away. I'm pretty sure it was just a deer, though. Or at least, I hope it was. Nothing else happened that night.

We locked the doors, turned out the lights, and hung out in the living room. There was no chance we were actually falling asleep. The unreal experience we had would haunt us for a long time. As freakish as it was, I'm oddly happy to know I have a surreal story to tell anyone who I'm close to. What matters is that my friends and I made it out okay. Looking back, I know that screeching sound could have been a screech owl or fox, but knowing that someone or something else was out there that barely looked human at all made me question that.

None of us were on any substances. We were completely sober. And I know what we saw was real. I know that there are things out there that come out at night and hide during the day. And I now know that there are some things that never want to be discovered. To this day, I have no idea what the creature was or what its intentions were. I don't know if it had followed my two friends and I or my other friend down that long path.

Quite frankly, I don't want to know. Some say ignorance is bliss, I don't want to know. Some say ignorance is bliss, and I wholeheartedly agree. The Missing Boy and the Pale Man from Wren Is Lost. I'm half Native American and grew up in an isolated town that boasted an impressive population of 96 people in total. In my beliefs and the beliefs of my community and family, there are benevolent spirits and there are malevolent spirits. Some are human and there are malevolent spirits. Some are human, and others are not. Many go unnoticed by people blending into the background.

Some are retold as legends and stories and cautionary tales, and some become notoriously known on the internet, like the Skinwalker and Wendigo. This story is not about Skinwalkers or Wendigo. Or maybe it is. I honestly don't know

what it was that I saw and felt, but I know for certain that whatever it was, it was the thing that took a young boy from our community. Whether you believe my story or not, it doesn't change anything, unfortunately. The boy is still missing and presumed dead and has been for well over a decade now. Before I share with you the details of the case, you need to understand how things were where I grew up. Calling us a rural town was putting it politely. We were extremely remote. The next nearest town was well over an hour away. My town was mostly made up of other people in the tribe.

It was this small logging town tucked deep into the mountains. Everyone knew each other, and everyone knew the same local superstitions and stories. There were quite a few unusual stories surrounding the forest in our town, some of them involving inhuman spirits. I'd explored those forests since I was very small, probably too small. I have memories of being as young as three or four years old and being deep in the woods alone, but feeling perfectly safe,

as if there was something in the forest that was protecting me. And I'd return to it, time and time again, to feel safe, safer than I did at home, with my neglectful and abusive family. There were other things in the forest that I can't really describe, but when you lived there, you learned over time on how to read the forest,

understanding when it was safe to be in it, or if you needed to keep your wits about you. Every once in a while, you could feel something on the dark edges waiting there, as if needing an invitation to come closer. Sometimes, that dark presence would follow. There were many times when I was older and riding my bike along the old logging trails where I felt it there. It was always this familiar feeling, but something dark, something inappropriate. Sometimes you could hear it call your name, but I never answered it when it did.

Some instinct in me told me that I should never acknowledge it, never speak to it, and absolutely never invited closer. And then, as soon as it had appeared, it was gone, and that feeling of the goodness in the forest would return. This was kind of the usual thing for most of us living out there, especially the loggers. Just one of those things that we knew was unnatural, but something we lived with, keeping it on the outskirts until someone invited it in. Just one of those things that we knew was unnatural, but something we lived with, keeping it on the outskirts until someone invited it in. The boy who went missing.

I can't be sure of what happened on his end. I can only tell you about this case from my experience with it, and from what others have told me, and what I later felt and saw. This boy went missing on a winter's day, where almost two feet of snow had fallen overnight. He uncharacteristically left his home that morning, and simply disappeared. It was cause for immediate panic, and a local search and rescue party had mobilized before law enforcement could reach us. The boy had suffered from health problems and required medication to function correctly,

medication that he uncharacteristically did not take with him. The last eyewitness who saw him was able to give a direction of where he traveled, and his footprints were found in the snow fairly quickly. This is where things begin to become strange. operatives, as well as search and rescue canines and rugged terrain gear, including snowmobiles and climbing equipment, to navigate some of the harsh terrain. They followed the boys' footprints off-road, and through terrain they had extreme difficulty navigating through, even with all that gear, and in some cases it was impossible to get through. And yet the boy's footprints persisted on for miles, until search and rescue operatives took note of something disturbing.

At a certain point, seemingly out of nowhere, the boy's footprints were joined by the footprints of someone, or something else. They were described as long strides by the footprints of someone or something else. They were described as long strides that looked as if the boy were being led deeper in, and then both sets of footprints vanished for miles in the snow. There was just nothing.

Several miles away, a secondary team who had gone ahead in the boy's direction of travel radioed in that they had found the footprints again and were able to validate them as his by the unique design on the sole of his shoes. Again, the same thing happened. The footprints began as only his and were eventually joined by something else. And then, once more, they vanished into nothing. The search had begun in the morning and went on well into the night.

It wasn't until the next day that one of the boy's shoes and his hoodie washed up where the river emptied out. His body was never found. Shortly after, he was presumed possibly deceased from exposure, but the search would continue for a long time. At this point, you're probably wondering how my first story and this connect. Remember, you get to decide what you accept as the truth, but just because you accept one truth in one way does not mean it's not true in another

way. Earlier in my story I mentioned that locals could feel the forest and things present in it, including that dark presence that lingered just out of reach, following, speaking our names. After the boy disappeared, this thing was no longer on the outskirts. It had become the forest. I mentioned when I was smaller, I would go into the forest to feel safe, to feel secure.

Shortly after the boy went missing, I went to visit my secret place in the woods like I had thousands of times before. But I... well, I couldn't. I got to the edge of our property, and I could not will my body to pass through our gate and into the forest. My body was frozen and trembling. My heartbeat was so loud it was all I could hear, and my legs felt like jello. This suffocating sense of doom felt as if it was crushing the life out of me. To put it in layman's terms, I felt like if I were to go into that forest at that time, I was going to die.

That I would also be taken. Those words were being forced into my brain from something I couldn't see, but something that felt familiar, yet nauseating. My instincts immediately told me that it was that thing I'd felt so often as a child, but that it did not need my permission, or anyone else's permission, anymore to be there. It made the forest change from feeling peaceful and alive, to sick and decaying, a stagnant place where no light could reach anymore. I tried to go back in several other times, and I had the same reaction each time. Even my ex-husband, when I took him there, had a similar reaction, despite never giving him any backstory about the place. He was a firefighter who specialized in wildland and forest fires, and he even stopped at the

gate, silently staring into the trees. I could even see goosebumps rising up on the back of his neck. Even he said that he didn't know what it was, but it felt like he was going to die if he went in there. Strange things kept happening after the boy went missing. Certain areas of the road through the mountain that were considered fairly safe before suddenly had accident after accident, with most of the victims saying things like there was someone in the road they were trying to avoid hitting, or that they just lost complete control of their car.

People drink a lot in this area, and the sad truth is that a lot of those also drive themselves home after drinking. So a lot of people kind of shrugged off the increase in car accidents, chalking it up to the local cafe finally getting their liquor license. I thought this was closer to the truth myself, until it happened to me. I saw him. I know it was him, or it, or whatever it was, because when I saw him, I felt the same suffocating feeling of dread and nausea that I had before.

I didn't ask to see him, and I wasn't even thinking about him when it happened. I was driving home from work, and it was dark. I rounded a corner, and I saw what I first thought to be a tall, thin, pale, and possibly nude man standing next to the road sign. I immediately glanced in the mirror as I slowed down to see what I was looking at, to see if he was hurt or if he needed help. It was below freezing and he looked nude at first glance.

What I saw, I sometimes still can't accept. It was humanoid, definitely humanoid, but there was something not right about it, and the more I looked at it, the more things screamed that it was not a human being. The skin was extremely pale, but also very leathery. The arms and legs were simply both too long, and the fingers way too long. The hands and feet of this thing were black, like they had been caked in ash and coal from the fireplace. It had no hair, it had no ears, except what might have been holes where the ears once were. Where its eyes should have been was just empty, but still reflected light from my car, similar to when you shine light on a cat or dog's eyes in the park.

There were no lips or nose. The mouth was just gaping open and closed, and was covered in what I hoped was mud, or maybe charcoal. I didn't know what I was looking at, but I knew it wasn't human. I got the heck out of there as fast as I could. It wasn't until I got home and sat down to draw what I saw, so I could see if others had encounters with this thing, that I realized that its height had to have been at minimum seven or eight feet since our road signs are built a lot taller. They can still be seen when we get a lot of snow. Online, the search results for what I saw came up with most results suggesting the rake, a supposedly fictional ghostly cryptid that I'd never heard of before this,

but the supposed images I saw of it were strikingly similar to the thing I saw. Similarly, those features can also fit a true Wendigo. Sorry if this traps some people's rears, but Wendigo and Algonquin lore do not look like gangly men wearing a deer skull on their head. But the geographical location wasn't right, even though I'm from one of the Algonquin tribes where that lore originated from. I've since moved out of my childhood hometown,

but this whole event is something that has stayed with me in the back of my mind since then. I can't prove it, but my gut instinct tells me that whatever that thing was, it was so desperate to be invited in. It preyed on the missing boy and took him from us. A catalyst to its entry, I suppose. She Loved to Swim From Palace Many years ago, there was this girl who loved to swim.

She would stay in the water for as long as she could, no matter how wrinkly her skin would become. She could stay for hours in the water, if she was allowed to. Her peers, classmates, or friends and family nicknamed her Water Rat, a much-used figurative expression in the country she lived in at the time, for people there to describe anyone who enjoyed swimming a lot. Her parents would sometimes joke that if she stayed too long in the water, that she would stay wrinkly forever.

Let's call her Sarah. This is not her real name, but her story is. Sarah was considered a normal girl. She did well in school, even though she had some difficulties and needed guidance now and again. Nothing too much out of the ordinary. The girl had friends, although not at school.

So at school she spent all her time learning and doing schoolwork. Any time she had left after school, she was free to do whatever she wanted to, be it meeting with her friends or swimming. Her favorite thing to do was to see how long she could hold her breath for by swimming from one end of the pool or lake to the other side. Sarah would keep going until she was satisfied enough that she did her best. Other things she enjoyed in the water were tricks, such as doing as many underwater forward rolls as possible

before needing to get up for air, or doing underwater handstands. One day, she was alone, swimming at the beach nearby where she and her parents lived. It was during the summer vacation and most people left to celebrate their vacations elsewhere, spending time at foreign beaches, most likely. Sarah didn't mind. She enjoyed spending time by herself. Being with friends was always nice, but as an introvert, she got exhausted from spending time with other people, no matter how kind or helpful they were.

As a person, she needed time to herself to recharge. This was such a time. She swam and swam and swam some more. The girl eventually lost track of time, as was normally the case for her when she went swimming. Sarah did some of her favorite tricks in the water. This was the first time she was allowed to swim by herself. Her parents thought she was getting old enough to start venturing out alone.

A young woman like yourself should be able to make her own plans without your mom or dad by now. You're barely a child anymore. Well, you'll always be our child, of course. Her mother said while hugging her before she left. Sarah remembered her mom's smile, happy her daughter was becoming mature, concerned that might be going too fast for either of them.

Soon it was beginning to get dark. That was her cue to get out of the water and head home. Sarah couldn't remember the last time she'd swam so long. She checked the time. Her phone had stopped working. Sarah thought this odd as she had fully charged it beforehand, but she didn't think too much more of it. The battery might have simply just died, or something like that. Either way, she would have to check it at home sometime later, when she got back. The young woman hoped she wasn't going to be too late.

After having almost run the entire way back home, Sarah got out her keys to the house and put the front door key in the lock. She opened the door, closed it behind her, and yelled out, Mom! Dad! I'm back! Sarah heard shuffling from upstairs and from the kitchen. Her mother greeted her as she came from upstairs.

It is way too late. Where have you been? Her mom stopped right in her tracks halfway coming down the stairs. Her face started to go pale. Honey, where did you put the spices I like? I can't find them. A man's voice came from the kitchen.

It was Sarah's dad, preparing that evening's meal. Mom? What's wrong? Sarah tried to ask. She was worried. She had never seen her mom like this. Honey? Sarah's father inquired nicely from the kitchen again. When he didn't get a response, he decided to investigate what kept his wife. He opened the kitchen door and entered the hallway and his jaw dropped.

A sudden rush of fear and anger overwhelmed him. Who are you? Get out of this house or I'll call the police! As he said this, Sarah's mom cried and screamed. Dad, why, what? The girl tried to ask what was wrong, what was going on. She didn't get the chance to, as her father was beginning to charge at her. Sarah jumped out of the house, crying.

Don't you dare come here again! The front door slammed shut after her dad had shouted his final words at her. Sarah could not understand what happened. Thoughts were running through her mind. She wept while walking the streets, trying to figure out what to do. Why had her mom looked at her that way? Why had her father suddenly turned to rage, seemingly intent on killing her? Never before had she seen such fear and rage from either of her parents.

I hadn't seen Sarah in years. Her parents had reported her as missing. They'd witnessed a strange incident the day she had disappeared, but other than that, the police had nothing to go on. Sarah used to be my friend when we were kids. I was one of her few friends. It must have been about six years after she'd gone missing when I got a strange phone call, and I didn't know what to make of it. The voice on the other end was unclear but very distinct. They claimed to be able to clarify what had happened to Sarah. That's when I was told everything I just told you.

I asked how this person knew all this. I was told if I wanted to know what happened to Sarah, if I wanted closure, I would have to go to the beach near Sarah's place the next evening. I had to come alone. It sounded shady, but I needed answers. Just in case, I informed one of my siblings where I was going. I'd made arrangements with my brother on the off chance I would not contact him by midnight. The following day it was nearly time for me to head to the beach. Everything was set. Everything arranged.

I sat there at the beach waiting. Daylight faded to dusk, which turned into night. Tiredness seeped in and sometimes I felt my head bounce around. I was trying my best to stay awake. Luckily, I managed to keep myself awake enough. Eventually, I heard splashing. I got up and headed toward the water. The moon had appeared and shone some dim light across the darkness of the beach and the water. The moon had appeared and shone some dim light across the darkness of the beach

and the water of the vast ocean. Near where I had heard the splashing, I saw a round shape bobbing in the water. Hello? I called out, thinking it might be someone out at sea. It seemed dangerous to me someone would be swimming right now in the sea with it being so dark. As a response, the round shape came slightly closer to my position. I was a bit anxious, as I didn't know what to expect. But if it was a person I managed to get out of harm's way, then I was happy enough. The round shape stopped not too far away from where I was standing. It was still in the

water, but it was rising up. A short, hunched figure was standing close to the shoreline. By the looks of it, it was human, I thought. Who are you? Are you the one who phoned me about Sarah? I asked the human figure. Yes. An old, crackling voice replied. It did sound similar to the voice I'd heard over the phone earlier. There was a long, uncomfortable pause before the crackling voice continued. The Sarah you knew is gone. What did you do with her? I demanded, suddenly, in frustration, surprising not only myself with my tone of aggression,

but the other person in the water too. I saw the shape flinch in response. I, I don't know... They replied. What do you mean you don't know? I asked, a bit more gentle this time. The shape stepped closer to me,

slowly. Some clouds began to pass over the moon, so I could not make out the person's face when they came closer. They were perhaps only two steps away from me. Just know, Sarah is doing well. Everyone has been missing her. Where is she? Let her come home. I said, firmly, demanding it, but I felt rather hopeless.

She... she can't come home. I... this was a mistake. I'm sorry. Just know she is okay. They turned around and began to head back into the water I rushed towards them grabbing their shoulder then I jumped back and immediately let go their shoulder felt strange almost as if it was all dried up. That made no sense. They had just come from the water. The person turned back around to face me. Just as they did, the moon's light was shining again as the clouds had fully passed.

Their face. It was all wrinkly. It barely looked human. I was too focused on their face to take note of the rest of their appearance. I did not yell and who or whatever they were had seemed to appreciate I hadn't backed out in horror or shock. Sarah will be happy to know you took the news so well. Thank you. The voice sounded calm and somewhat satisfied. They retreated back into the water.

I cannot say for sure I know who or what they were, but whatever happened to Sarah had changed her life forever. Maybe I met Sarah that night, maybe not. The story I got over the phone, I believed more than ever now that I'd experienced this. Whoever or whatever that was, I have a feeling that they or Sarah got more closure than I did, and I hope Sarah is doing well. Gilgo Beach Serial Killer From Anonymous

When I was 18 years old in the late 90s, my best friend Nicole and I liked to visit Gilgo Beach during the summer. Gilgo Beach was one of many Long Island beaches, but we liked this one because it encompassed both a beach and boat marina with an outdoor tiki-style bar. This outdoor bar is exactly the place where this strange encounter occurred. Nicole and I decided to take a break from sunbathing and took the 10-minute walk to the outdoor bar to get some sodas. Upon arrival, we sat down and waited our turn to order sodas. The area was crowded with beachgoers and boat owners who parked their boats at the marina. There were probably about two dozen boats docked. People were drinking and

mingling. Nicole was already flirting with an older gentleman, who talked about his boat and how he would love it if she joined him on his boat. I, on the other hand, was more interested in quenching my thirst rather than mingling. But that's when a 40-something serious white man sat down next to me. Something about his vibe gave me the creeps. The creepy and sinister look he gave before he even spoke to me permanently embedded his face in my memory. You know, you shouldn't get on the boats here. Girls get on these boats all the time and go missing, never to be heard from again. He said with a small smirk. I rolled my eyes and replied, I wasn't planning to get onto any of these boats. But tell me this,

why haven't I heard anything about all these missing girls on the news? I read the newspaper every day and have never read one story about a missing girl that was last seen on Gilgo Beach. He responded and said, Because nobody knows about it yet. Then he got up and walked off. That comment always puzzled me for years until over ten years later, when police discovered multiple bodies found buried on Gilgo Beach, they're still looking for the Gilgo Beach

serial killer. They suspect it was a serial killing team, which includes a doctor and a police sergeant, but could not prove it, so they're free to this day. But the scariest moment for me was when they showed me the pictures of the suspected doctor and police sergeant duo. The man that warned me in a sinister-like way to not get on the boat, or I would disappear, was the suspected police sergeant. I will never forget that creepy face and warning with a sinister undertone.

Warning. The following story contains graphic depictions of dead animals. What I experienced on the Colorado back road. From Make33 This story took place a few months back. I was 17 at the time. During the Rona outbreak, I was very limited to where I could and could not go. Although there were strict rules set in place by my parents, I seldom acknowledged what they asked of me to begin with. Looking back, I realized how irresponsible I was, and I chalk it up to my immaturity. Since I've turned 18, I've made the best effort to put my childlike tendencies behind me and start behaving like a mature young adult.

Regardless, this story took place a while before I turned 18. Though the incident happened a few months back, it continues to replay in my head and appears as fresh as ever to this day. I don't think I'll ever completely know what happened that night. Beginning my story, it was around 1 in the morning. Just like the rest of the states, Colorado was dealing with Rona, and no one was really allowed to mingle with others at this point in time. Regardless, I really didn't have anyone to mingle with. I was homeschooled, after all, living in an isolated spot. I wouldn't have it any other way, either.

I enjoy spending time alone, contemplating life and its meaning. I have a close group of friends I've remained in contact with throughout Rona, and those are the friends that have been with me for a long time. I consider them family. I missed the amount of time we'd spend together, as a group and individually. I especially recall our love of hiking and exploration. The sense that there is stuff out there, good and bad. We all felt like it was our job to find it, record it, and remember it. At one point in life, the memories you keep will once again remind you of the golden days of your life.

We figured it might be best to get as many memories and experiences as possible. But I never anticipated something as bizarre as this to happen. Additionally, although my friends weren't with me because of the lockdowns, I've made sure they were fully aware of every specific detail as to what happened. I was extremely bored during these times and resorted to taking my mind off of boredom by going for drives. I would usually spend two to three hours a day driving around aimlessly, exploring back roads and stopping every so often on trails to hike. Eventually, I discovered the exhilaration of sneaking out at night to go for a drive. I realized night drives, while being the perfect way to relax and think about life,

also had the potential adrenaline rush to them. The idea of sneaking out without your parents finding out, I guess. Until this one night drive. I never realized how incredibly dangerous they could be. I would sometimes see deer jump into the road and that would scare me crapless. The way they could take anyone by surprise is crazy. The way your heart beats when it comes out of nowhere, the imminent feeling of uncertainty to what it actually is before you completely analyze it, and the dread that follows. It makes you go ten times slower in fear that you'll accidentally hit a deer and total your car. It was no issue to me, though. My car was pretty old and given to me by my parents. I didn't think much of it then,

but that car was on its last legs. Since then, I've bought a new car to avoid the same problem that occurred that night. Sometime after my parents had gone to bed, I got up. I left through the back door and got into my car. Tonight was like any other night. Completely normal. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to experience. I got onto a recently discovered back road I found a few days back. It took me about 30 minutes to get there and I made sure to fill up my gas tank so I would have no difficulty getting back home without a problem. I eventually came to a long stretch of road that was densely forested on either side of the road.

I felt so at peace, knowing that no other cars usually traveled this way due to the lack of any evident road maintenance. No houses or trails were on this couple mile stretch, which was just fine. Being one with the silent night, the sound of crickets with the fresh air coming from my open window, and no light apart from the beans of my car, it was all very peaceful. I was cruising at a 30 mile an hour pace to avoid any big bumps in the roads. A few minutes into keeping this pace, I glanced off to the left side of the road and I saw a faint outline of some sort of figure.

I brushed it off as being some animal and drove to about 40 miles an hour. I didn't feel quite right though. Something kept bothering me and I realized how far set its eyes had been off the ground. They had reflected my headlight beams at an almost impossible height, to be the eyes of any animal I knew of. My stomach was in a knot, and out of curiosity I looked in the rear view mirror. Whatever it was had walked onto the road. I saw the faint outline of the figure, but I wasn't completely sure if it was four-legged or two.

And that's when I heard it. The most unnatural sound I've ever heard in my life. The purest form of dread washed over me as I put two and two together. I connected the uncanny sound with the creature that had just made its way onto the road. The sound this creature made was a shriek. It made it multiple times, and it was impossibly loud. My best attempt to describe it would be to compare it to the sound that metal makes when scraping against metal. Except a thousand times more chilling, it was as if it wanted my attention.

My heart began to pound. I slowed the car down to a halt. It stood there, yards behind me, eyes reflecting the moon. As scared as I was, I became even more desperate in finding out what this thing was. It stood in the same position, eyes not moving.

I sat there for a moment, waiting. It suddenly made the same shrieking noise, except even more aggressively this time. That's when I drove off. I redlined the car, and as I did, I dreaded the idea of my car breaking down. Thankfully, it didn't. However, as I began to drive off, whatever it was appeared to head back into the forest. After a few minutes

of driving, I was intent on making it back to civilization. From what I remembered, I think I had another eight miles to go, give or take, before getting onto a main road. I was driving at 50 miles an hour now,

and paid no attention to any bumps in the road. My sole focus was getting the heck out of Dodge. After a few minutes of driving, I heard the shriek again. Distant, but it sent a shiver down my spine nonetheless. I kept driving, and I began to approach something on the road. Whatever it was, it was in a heap. Then I saw it was a deer.

At first I thought it was dead, but then I realized it was twitching as I slowed down to avoid running it over. It was in the middle of the road, so I had to drive to the side. As my car approached it, I saw that its ribcage had been torn open and spread apart. Its innards spilled about on the road. This wasn't roadkill. Something had mauled it. As I drove onto the shoulder, I got caught in a ditch. For a split second, I thought I was screwed. Thankfully, my tires caught onto the pavement once again, and I was in the clear. Just a moment after getting past that deer, something ran onto the road.

I'm not sure what it was, but I knew it was two-legged, based on the way it ran. I wasn't yet far enough away to be unable to distinguish how this creature looked. I got a glimpse of it in my mirror. It was a very tall, lanky figure. I saw its eyes wide open, yet there appeared to be no mouth. It shrieked once again. That's when its mouth opened. A hole of darkness emerged so big, I was stunned.

It cocked its head back and went into a seizure-like motion. That's when I lost sight of it, unsure of what to even think at that moment. I made it back home around 6 in the morning. I drove a bit more among the common roads just contemplating life and about what the heck I'd experienced. I drove there a day later during noon with my dad, not saying a word about the whole incident. I asked if he wanted to go for a drive and discuss family matters with me. I used that as an excuse to have company while I went to drive by the road where I saw the deer. We passed it, or at least what was left of it. The head was gone. The neck was ripped apart as we passed it, and I felt even more disturbed. My dad appeared to be seriously concerned, but chalked it up to some wild animal.

I never told him or anyone else about what I saw that night. The day I drove that road with my dad at noon was the last time I went on it since. I've since then cut back on the driving I do during the day, and I've never gone out at night again. Thinking about what happened gives me goosebumps, and makes me tear up. Sometimes I question my own sanity, but that deer symbolizes the truth behind what the heck happened that night, and serves as a dreadful reminder of the reality of the situation, and of what could have happened to me if my car remained in that ditch or had broken down. I count myself lucky,

and I've started to realize that sometimes the bad overtakes the good. I don't want to be around when that happens, so I've taken every precaution since then to keep myself safe. I think we saw a skinwalker. From Mrs. Ponchy John. I'm 24 years old, and a big believer in monsters. I'm part Cherokee, Choctaw, Shawnee, and Chickasaw. My grandma always taught us about skinwalkers, shapeshifters, and wendigos. So last year I was on a trip to Denver, Colorado with my friends Joe,

who's part Washoe and Lakota, and Frankie, who's part Cheyenne and Seminole, along with my dogs Lou, a red-boned coonhound, and Mr. Bluebody, a blue-tick coonhound. We finally get to Colorado after hours of driving. We're driving down a dirt road when my dogs needed to use the bathroom. Hey Joe, pull over. Why?

Lou and Mr. Bluebody have to water the lily. Joe pulled over and we all got out. While my dogs are using the bathroom, I feel as if we're being watched. Then my dogs start growling. We all look towards where my dogs are growling and we see this pony looking at us. Yes, a pony. Now to a random person, it would appear to be a regular pony.

And at first, that's what it looked like, until we saw that its legs were too long for a pony. I heard Frankie ask, Polna, do you see that? Yeah, I see it. I told my dogs to come, and we all got back in the car. As soon as I looked outside my window, I screamed. Standing in the spot where the pony had been was a tall, dark figure.

We all said in unison, Skinwalker. We all began to pray while my dogs huddled together. After the prayer, what we heard next scared us so much. It mimicked my grandma's voice. We heard, Don't be scared. It's all right.

Joe sped down the road faster than I ever saw him drive before. We decided to just go home, but we took a different highway out of Colorado. We haven't spoken of it since. I decided to share this story, and I'm thankful my grandma taught me about monsters. Stay safe, and God bless. Frozen in Fear From Sandy I live in New Mexico near the Colorado border, close to the San Juan Mountains,

which is a part of the Rockies. I used to camp every year until seven years ago in a place called Williams Creek, Pagosa Springs, Colorado. It's a beautiful area with mountains, a lake, some waterfalls, hiking trails, and an old country store. I was recently divorced

and wanted to get away from everything, and everyone, for a few days. So I packed my hiking gear, camping supplies, and a sidearm, which I always take with me as I'm a small female, and there are a lot of big animals in that area. Pagosa Springs is a small mountainous town with their claim to fame being the deepest hot springs in the world and resorts that welcome locals, skiers, mountain bikers, vacationers, and anyone that likes the outdoors. It truly is an outdoorsy person's paradise. They host several events throughout the year. That includes car shows, hot air ballooning, and music festivals. The camping and hunting in the area is second to none. But then again, I'm a bit biased, having lived in

this area since I was 14. I made sure to go in July, as the area is a bit warmer, and most of the snow is gone, in the areas I like to hike to. I've hiked this area many times and have been to a lot of the trails that lead to fields of the most beautiful wildflowers you will ever lay eyes on. In the fall, the aspen trees splash the mountains with colors of gold, orange, and red in anticipation of the long cold winters that Colorado is infamous for. It was truly my most favorite place to go and just chill out away from people to just soak in the serenity. Williams Creek is both amazing and gorgeous

but anxiety invoking if you do not like seclusion. The campground is almost always full but the trails can be very desolate especially the one that caused me to be here, writing this story. I made camp and settled into my tent for the night. I had checked the weather several times before leaving Pagosa Springs proper. Cell service in Williams Creek can be spotty at best. I was planning on waking at 0400 and heading out to the top of Williams Creek,

past the lake and onto Williams Creek Trail, which is about 15 miles long and takes a good part of the day to hike, if not two days, as weather often moves in very fast and traps hikers that have to seek shelter away from flash hailstorms, lightning, and local monsoons. Well, I ended up oversleeping and got a late start. Very late.

I grabbed my gear in such a hurry that I forgot my camera and my phone, which sucked, because I was planning on taking a lot of pictures that day of the hike and scenery. It took me about 20 minutes to drive to the trailhead and sign in on a sheet provided by the forestry service. This helps locate hikers should they become missing. It has a place for your name and destination, as well as days anticipated for your hike and the time you got started. I signed in at 8.17 and started down the trail, across the field towards the tree line. The hike is treacherous,

even for the most seasoned hiker. The trail starts out innocently enough, but quickly turns into an almost vertical trail with switchbacks and a lot of debris from horses and weather. a lot of debris from horses and weather. A lot of folks take rented horses on the trail. I was excited to be out in nature, and needed to relax, unwind. It took me about four hours to get to the bottom where there's two clearings separated by a thin group of pine trees and scrub oak. There's a small stream that runs through the trees that has some amazing fishing.

As I made my way to the group of trees, I took note of a few clouds moving in and the wind picking up. I spent about two hours fishing, untangling my line, sorting through flies, and cleaning my catch. I made lunch right by the stream, and that's when I noticed I'd forgotten my camera and phone. A little disappointed in myself, I cleaned my supplies, packed up, and grabbed my pack, giving one last glance at the area, taking mental pictures for my journal. Then I left the serenity behind. One glance at my watch told me I better start

heading back. As I made my way to the group of trees, I felt the first drop of rain hit my face. In seconds, it was a downpour of rain and hail. I grabbed my rain jacket and found shelter under a group of scrub oak. I sat in my shelter waiting for a small break in the rain, just enough so that I would not be pounded with hail and get soaked to the bone. But my weight was in vain. About 45 minutes into the storm, I had a sudden urge to get the heck out of there. Looking back, there was not one particular event that caused the feeling.

I just felt the need to go. I grabbed my pack, zipped my jacket all the way up, and headed out of the trees into the valley. About halfway across the field, I felt horribly exposed, but I was happy to see the rain subsiding. I stopped to admire the view and check my watch again. Realizing it would be dark

by the time I got back to my truck, I decided to pick up the pace. I reached for my pack and straight away noticed it was dead silent. No dripping rain, no animals, no crickets. Dead silent. Throwing the pack over one shoulder, I picked up the pace and had just about made it to the bottom

of the ascending part of the trail, when movement out of the corner of my eye caused me to stop. Coming towards me at full speed was a mountain lion. I froze. I wanted to run, but I knew better. In my

hunting classes, they had told us to stand your ground and make as much noise as possible. I couldn't think. I couldn't run. All I could do was stand there and wait for my bloody end. The cat came within about forty yards from me, before veering off to the right and heading towards the fence line that stretches across the base of the mountain. As the cat disappeared, I turned to resume my pace and stopped dead in my tracks again.

I was thinking, what could have caused that cat to run like that? And it's a question I wished to this day I had never asked. As if on cue and reading my thoughts, just outside the tree line of the very group of trees I'd taken shelter under was a creature that was about seven to seven and a half feet tall. It had the body of a man, the legs of a deer, and the face was a mess of teeth, hair, and grotesque wrinkled skin the color of a rotting corpse. I froze where I stood. My feet felt as if they had been cemented to the earth, and I could not form one rational thought.

I forgot I had a gun, but I couldn't even lift my arm to check the time. Several minutes had to pass because my next memory was the cat standing in the tree line, safely on the other side. It let out a scream that sounded like an animal being murdered. I snapped out of my trance and realized it was time to make haste. I dropped my pack and ran as fast as I could to clear the rest of that field. At the bottom of the mountain, there's a fence you must climb over to get to the trail. I jumped over the fence and kept on running,

never looking back because I was so scared that thing would be right behind me. I was crying and screaming for help. About halfway up the mountain and at dusk, would be right behind me. I was crying and screaming for help. About halfway up the mountain, and at dusk, I ran into four guys on horses that had just turned back to start toward their trucks. I told them that I'd gotten caught in the storm

and had lost my pack. I didn't mention what I saw. I didn't want them to think I was crazy. Two of the men headed down the mountain, while the other two put me on a horse and took me to my truck. I wanted to tell them so badly what I'd seen, but I was scared that somehow my mind had made it up, and it didn't really happen. A couple of hours later, I was safe in my truck, and that's where I slept that night. As soon as dawn broke, I tore camp down, packed up, and met the guys at the little country store to retrieve my pack.

As I thanked the men for going to get my pack, they stated that they nearly didn't make it there, because they kept hearing howling and noises in the bushes all the way down the mountain. Their horses had refused to go any further, and if they hadn't found my pack when they did, I would have lost it forever. I thanked them and got in my truck. As I was backing out of the dirt lot, one of the men approached the window

and made a gesture to roll it down. I did as he asked. He told me that they'd seen some strange things on their ride to get my pack, and told me to never hike the area alone. I asked him what they saw. He just shook his head and reiterated for me to never hike that trail alone. I miss that area, but what I saw that evening will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. What in the world was that thing? What stopped it from pursuing me? How did the time lapse happen in that short amount of time? Did that cat protect me? How could I have gone there all those other times before and never seen it?

And how am I still alive? Don't get me wrong. I'm very grateful. But I'd still like to know what I saw that night. Cave Dweller From Darth Monger Last year, my family and I went camping and hiking. It was a week during the late part of April. My dad always enjoyed getting out in the spring.

He also says it gets me and my older sister off the cell phones and computers for a bit. We reluctantly went and tried not to fuss too much, even though I'd much rather be playing PS4 with my friends. If pretending to be excited about walking on some rocks was what it took to keep from hurting his feelings, then so be it. As we prepared for the trip the first morning, Dad and I loaded the truck up with tents, an ice chest, and the other necessary implements for camping. All the while, my mom and sister were arguing over how much to pack for the trip.

Thank God my mom won out, because it would have been me having to pack everything into an already overloaded truck. We finally got everything strapped down and started down the road. Our destination was only a few hours away, so it wouldn't be long until we were in a boring supposed heaven. The trip was pretty uneventful. My dad told stories about past trips from when my sister and I were little, and my mom laughed while adding in her own little parts. My sister, being 16 at the time, sulked from her lack of a phone or any other form of entertainment, and I stared out the window watching trees pass by. Apparently, we were going to a new place that Dad had wanted to try for a long time.

He didn't know much about it, but a work friend had said it was great. I was hoping it would be more fun than the trips before. Like Mom said, you never know, you might just have fun. Once we arrived at the place, it seemed pretty dead. There was a small playground that looked as though it had been built 40 years ago. The public restroom buildings were run down and didn't seem to be cared for much at all. There was a decent sized lake in the distance though, but it too appeared to be empty. For the moment, it seemed like at least if nothing else, we wouldn't have to share with many people.

Dad and I found a good spot and began setting up the tent. He let me pick the spot, so I chose a spot close to the lake. I was hoping to get some fishing in at some point. My mom and sister began putting out the chairs and unloading the truck. By the time we were finished setting up, it was getting a little later in the evening. My dad suggested we go check out the lake, maybe even cast a line in the water. I was more than thrilled to end the day doing something outside I found somewhat entertaining. My mom volunteered herself and my sister to stay and start building a campfire, so it would just be me and my dad. The fishing wasn't great, but I enjoyed it anyway.

We did finally see a boat out there, and there were a few other people standing around the shore. It made me a little less nervous. The feeling of us being all alone there was kind of creepy. Later on, we finally made our way back to the campsite. The fire was going, and my mom and sister were sitting in lawn chairs by it My mom offered us turkey sandwiches Soon after that we were off to bed

That night I couldn't sleep much Because it was so quiet I could hear every little noise The crackling of leaves and the rustling of bushes My 13 year old mind just knew there was something waiting for me to go to sleep. The next morning, I awoke to my dad yelling, Wake up, you lazy good-for-nothings. Let's go. I noticed he had his hiking boots on, so I knew we were in for it. He wanted to try a five-mile trail that had streams, cliffs, and hills. A lot of nature to see, as he had put it. We got started, and there were some cool things to see,

huge gaps in the rocks that seemed to be bottomless and a few small waterfalls. As noon approached, the sky was overcast, and it started to get really humid. I was sweating, and I had already drank four bottles of my water. We decided to take a rest, and about the time we were getting settled in, some other hikers appeared behind us. It was a man and a woman and a teenage boy around my age. My dad quickly sparked up a conversation. Soon he and my mom were talking away with them.

The other boy introduced himself and I found out his name was Adam. Adam was 14 and his parents had dragged him out for some fresh air. Apparently they didn't live far away and he had hiked on this trail many times before. Finally tired of waiting on his parents, he asked if he could take me to see the caves. My dad asked if it was safe, and Adam's dad assured him it was, and it wasn't too far away. We began to make our way off the trail up a large hill and into some thick trees. On the way, Adam told me that he had been playing at these caves for a few years. He and his older cousins discovered them while on a small camping trip.

People weren't allowed to go in them anymore because of young people getting lost and search and rescue having to go find them. Once we arrived, it was actually pretty creepy looking. Brush had grown up in front of the main cave, and it wasn't as large of an opening as I had imagined. He said there were more, but this one was the most interesting, because for some reason, it was so cold when you stood in front of it. He took a rock and threw it in. It made a large echo in the distance. That was obviously the other really cool part to me.

So of course we kept throwing rocks in and yelling, enjoying all the crazy echoes we were making. Nearby we found an old rusted bike frame with a bicycle bell still attached to the handlebars. Adam popped it off and threw that in as well. Naturally, it wasn't long before I asked

if he had ever actually went inside the cave. He said that he hadn't and that, honestly, it was just a little too sketchy for him. He didn't like the dark or enclosed spaces, but I really just wanted a peek, just to see what was inside. I asked if he would stand outside the cave and wait if I went in for a minute.

He nervously said he wasn't sure if it was safe, but I assured him I would be careful and I wouldn't go very far. He finally agreed after a few minutes of trying to advise me not to. I grabbed my small flashlight from my bag and started in carefully. I had to slouch down to get through the opening. Once just inside, I found he was right about the cold. The temperature had dropped at least 15 degrees. I looked around and noticed the cave actually opened up a few yards inside. My flashlight was less than high quality, so it was kind of hard to make things out at first. I figured I would let my eyes adjust for a minute.

I made my way to the larger opening where I could stand up. I could see a little better, so I slowly started making my way further into the cave. Adam began yelling, asking what I could see. I responded with, Nothing yet! As I kept walking, I came to a spot with a large shelf that was in the middle of the path. It was about five feet high. I'm not sure why, but I really wanted to see what was on the other side. So I grabbed the edge and began finding footholds to climb up.

Once on top, the path got really low and narrow. Adam started yelling that we should be getting back. I told him just another minute as I got down and began to crawl through the small space. I'd been crawling for a few minutes

when I started to get a little scared. It had gotten really cold. It felt like the air was getting thin. I realized the space was too small and I could not turn around. I crawled just a little further and finally there was another opening. I stood up and stretched. I was about to crawl back through when I could have sworn I heard a small whisper.

I used my flashlight and looked around quickly but I had stirred up so much dust getting up. The lighting was so poor too. I could barely make anything out. It was about that time I felt something brush lightly up my shoulder. I broke out in goosebumps.

It was time to get out of there. I got down on all fours and began trying to climb back down the tunnel. My backpack got hooked on a sharp rock, and I was freaking out so bad, pulling it so fast it wouldn't come undone. That's when I heard a... ring, ring. I couldn't promise it, but I was almost sure it sounded like a bicycle bell. I let go of the backpack and began to crawl.

I was moving so fast, so tensely, it made getting through the narrow passage feel like walking through quicksand. I was losing my breath and had to slow down. As I caught my breath, just as I was about to relax, I felt a cold hand grip my ankle. It felt like, for a second, something tried to pull me back. This gave me new energy to escape that tunnel. Once I got to the ledge of the shelf, I couldn't find a quick way down. I turned around and began to dangle my feet over the edge. As I looked up, my flashlight and my right hand pointed forward, because I was holding onto it and the ledge too. About ten feet down in the tunnel, I saw what looked to be a face. It was pale, clammy.

The figure had long, dark hair and the face was grimaced, like someone who had died in agony. The small light from my flashlight glared off of its teeth. I let go and fell fell landing on my back. The wind was knocked out of me. I jumped and ran to the entrance with tears in my eyes. As I came out, Adam was standing with our parents

who had just began questioning about my whereabouts. My dad saw my face and grabbed me, asking what happened, asking if I was okay. I didn't want everyone to laugh at me, so I began telling them that I got lost and I had fallen. After telling me how stupid I was, my parents took me back to camp to assess my injuries. Deciding that I just had some bumps and scrapes they kind of calmed down.

After that I begged to go home because I could not stay the night there knowing what was in that cave. Seeing that horrible face it had traumatized me. After my begging they finally gave in and took me home. I'm not sure if what I saw was real or not. I'd like to believe it was just my imagination.

Bad lighting, a scared kid. But I can't get that grimaced, dead-looking face out of my head. I don't do tight spaces anymore, and cave dwellers can have their caves all for themselves. Disembodied Noises at the Ape Caves, Mount St. Helens From Nordic Nonsense. I like to go spelunking. It's one of my favorite hobbies and I live for the adventure. Me and my friend, Josh, decided to go up to the Ape Caves outside of St. Helens

and go walking around and explore the old lava tubes. For those who don't know what a lava tube is, it's a super long one single tunnel that was created when lava came down through the underground super quick. They were formed thousands of years ago, and it's always a blast to go and crawl through them, trying to find your way through. Some parts do get really sketchy, because you have to duck, climb, and basically be a your way through. Some parts do get really sketchy,

because you have to duck, climb, and basically be a spider monkey through. But I digress. So we went up pretty late in the season. We're talking mid-November, early December. This was back in 2014, so the details are a little sketch. It was pretty late when we got there, and we were the only car in the parking lot. We gathered our gear and headed down the trail to the actual mouth of the caves. The air was super heavy and humid in the cave, and as we walked through, our footsteps were the only thing you could hear.

Josh also brought his dog along, and it happily plodded along right next to us. We were about an hour into our expedition, when Josh suggested we turn our lights off to see just how dark it actually is. The lights go out, and we stand there in silence. It's moments like those that really just remind you how vulnerable you are. I would not want to be here by myself. That's when I could hear the deep rumble of a growl in Josh's dog's chest. Josh quickly switched his light back on and in the distance we could hear someone talking

It wasn't loud just enough to get our attention Savage, the name of Josh's dog starts barking like mad and he tries to shut her up Chills are racing up and down my body as we quickly turn back and head the other way. The entire way out, I could swear I heard footsteps that weren't our own,

as if a third person had joined our party. Every now and then, you could hear the same voice, talking and laughing. But this wasn't a sane laugh. There was madness in it, that mocking high-pitched mirth. We got the heck out of there, and by the time we got back to the parking lot, we were both panting heavily and covered in sweat.

We didn't talk about that experience for the rest of the car ride home. Now, I love spelunking and exploring, but not when I gotta do it with spirits. Cave in the Woods

From Laughing Jack I'm 22 going on 23 years old now, and this happened when I was 6 or 7, living with my birth mother and her mother, which would be my nana. It was the middle of June, and it was a hot summer day in West Virginia. I lived in the mountains where our backyard was a forest. Me and my four brothers, two older and two younger, would go hiking in the woods behind our house all the time to pass the

time. On this particular day, it was about 97 degrees Fahrenheit out and sunny, as we trekked through the woods. After about 30 minutes of hiking, we came across this cave. It was the most peculiar cave, because in the opening, there seemed to be a pillar of ice, despite the extreme temperatures. As my brothers approached it, trying to figure out how it didn't melt, I noticed the woods got silent. I was a bit of a wuss back then. I got scared easily. My two older brothers often picked on me for this. Well, I told them that I was wanting to go back home, and they told me to go back by myself if I was so scared. So being the stubborn kid I was, I did just that. As I was walking back home, I saw what appeared to be a deer off to my left.

When I looked over, it was a doe, but it was a doe unlike any other I'd ever seen. This doe stood seven feet tall on all fours. The only place I'd ever seen an animal so big was a zoo. So being the scared little boy I was, I ran back home and cried in my room until my mother came in and calmed me down. Eventually, I passed out. The following night, I woke up to a horrifying and confusing sight. I rolled onto my back in bed and looked out the window. And there I saw eyes. Immediately I knew I'd seen those eyes before, but then I really grasped what I was looking at. That massive seven-foot doe was standing by my window,

looking in at me in my bed, expressionless, emotionless. I ran terrified into my big brother's room, sleeping on the floor because his room didn't have a window. I never ventured back into that forest after that, and I can't help but think that wasn't a normal doe, and that perhaps that icy pillar had been a distraction to get me alone. The following story was previously narrated on its own, so it didn't get as many listeners, but it's a great story that matches today's topic.

I thought you'd enjoy it. Eisenwolfentunnel from CyanideKitty101 Where I'm from in rural Germany, we have a local legend about a tunnel that runs through a thin but steep mountain called Eisenwolfen Mountain, or Iron Wolf Mountain. This short but inconvenient landmark is what now separates my small town from the larger colony and what used to be my school. Back in the early 1980s, when I was a young boy, it was my own responsibility to get to and from school on time by riding my bike,

and I was also tasked with picking up any items from the stores to bring them back home. Now, normally this would not be a problem, as I could simply on most occasions detour around the mountain on a much more public road. However, one dusk, I had to be home quickly, before it got truly dark, in order to avoid getting into trouble and probably a beating by my less than nurturing father. The road I normally took, curving around the mountain, was easily a 35 minute ride. This meant I had no choice but to take the tunnel. But before we get into my experience, let me tell you about this tunnel. Eisenwulfentunnel can easily be described as a maw carved crudely into the rocky face of a

sheer cliff, reddened with strips of iron deposits. From the outside both ways, a not-so-well-worn dirt path branches off of the paved road and slides into the dark interior of the Earth's cave. Supposedly, the main tunnel is a straight shot through, but if that were the case, then you would be able to see light peeking through the other side, right? Not here. Instead, it's pitch black, mere meters into the threshold. The history of the tunnel is a strange but no all too uncommon one. During World War II, the tunnel was carved into the mountainside as a means of more readily transporting supplies to stationed troops. In addition to this, it was also given branching tunnels from within to mine the vast quantities of iron used for the manufacturing of weapons

and other items for the war effort. This may be to blame for the tunnel's lack of straight shot through, most likely curving some due to the iron harvesting and crude explosive methods the workers tended to use when creating the

tunnel. Now, with that bit of history out of the way comes the part that skeptics may choose to overlook, or make reason to. The tunnel itself was abandoned shortly after its completion, and mining efforts ceased. There is no documented reason for this happening, other than those who entered it simply began to vanish. No traces were ever left behind. It never mattered how many people went in at a time. If they had weapons, and being Germany during the war, you know they had weapons, nor how long they were supposed to be inside. Even if they had lights with them, a few documented accounts of those outside and watching say that the darkness of the tunnel snuffed the light out in an impossible way, consuming it and the men who entered.

Along with this, no sounds of screams or struggles were ever heard from outside. Everyone who went in simply disappeared without trace or reason. As such, the tunnel and mining operation from within were abandoned, the war losing more people to the mountain's mystery than what resources were worth gathering. That being said, since then, more and more people have gone into the tunnel and have been lost, but not all.

On occasion, a person, adult or child, it doesn't matter, will claim to have gone into the mountain and made it completely through the tunnel.

However, when they do this, it's quite clear that portions of their mind were left behind. However, when they do this, it's quite clear that portions of their mind were left behind. Eventually, kids started to dare each other to go into the tunnel's shadows and stand there for five minutes, or was used as a sort of rite of passage. This led to more disappearances by some, but not all, folks who chose to perform the task, which in turn prompted the local government to put up wooden blockades and signs warning people not to trespass,

ineffectively closing off the tunnel to anyone who might want to go in. This didn't work for me. As I said before, I had to be home soon one dusk to avoid my father's temper. This meant that by the time I'd gotten to Eisenwolfen Tunnel's poorly blocked off entrance, the moon was already climbing its way into the sky. Being a 13-year-old boy and not wanting to take the extra 35 minutes to get home by going around the mountain's edge, I quickly decided that I would try the tunnel for the first time.

I knew of the stories and was well aware of the traditions of leaving people inside for fun, but I can honestly say that fear of my father's beating vastly outweighed the fear of a local legend and dark cave. Pretty bad when you're more frightened of your own father than the thought of possibly vanishing, huh? Anyway, I made up my mind rather quickly and mustered up what courage I had to enter the tunnel. Luckily, I'd brought a headlamp with me, just in case. It was a simple elastic band with a mini light on the front that went around my head's circumference. Turning that on, I hopped off my bike and walked it carefully past the haphazardly placed blockades and crept into the tunnel.

Just as I had imagined, the inside was crudely torn out of the mountain's rocky flesh, and darkness enveloped me and my bike. I didn't get back on due to the mystery of what lay ahead, unwanting of speeding through and inadvertently crashing into a wall or flipping over the handlebars due to a jutting stone. Besides, even if I took my good old time here, I would still make it through the other side and just outside my hometown in mere minutes, in theory. As such, I gradually pushed my bike along step by step, heart pounding and palms sweating.

The sound of dripping water caused my head to jolt to the side many times in a short time frame eliciting dizziness and an aching neck but every sound was amplified and I perceived it as something to watch for

and fear I'd only been walking for a couple of minutes when the fear that had been welling up inside of me burst the fragile dam of confidence I'd tried to cling to. It was just all too much, even though nothing

truly terrifying had happened yet. All I had seen were the red-orange walls scored with marks of forgotten miners and a few pools of murky water. No monsters, no missing bodies, nothing but the cave itself

and blackness. But it was this blackness and the thought of the stories I'd heard that clutched my cowardly child heart, holding it with a fierce grip that I turned into energy to fuel my haste to leave. I held my bike's handlebars tightly in my hands

and whipped around with the contraption, turning my back to the cavernous way. However, upon spinning, I saw no light from the outside, not even the dim brightness of the moon's illumination. The only thing my dim headlamp showed was more tunnel wall Heart skipping a beat

I bit my lip and raced back the way I had come with my bike still in hand But I only came face to face with a damp wall Where I had been certain I'd come from in a straight line was only wall No entrance, no blockades, no outside. Panic truly began to set in then, bubbling up like an overflowing cooking pot. I ran along this wall to the left with my bike, until it met with another to form a rounded corner. Upon seeing this, I tried the other way but was greeted with the same thing somehow it appeared

the tunnel's entrance had sealed up like a healed wound and that meant I was sealed inside sure I had not taken any turns my mind boggled at the idea of being unable to find my way out.

It raced at the time, with all the stories I'd hear, the legend, and how I cursed myself for being such a fool. Now I would become just another story. Another child, suddenly lost without a trace, consumed by the tunnel. I'm not ashamed to admit I started to cry then. I gripped my bike's handlebars harder and wailed, the sound of my desperate yet defeated cries echoing loudly across the interior. It drowned out all the other sounds of the tunnel, causing my ears to flood with the noise and ring. I cried for some time, but I cannot tell you how long. I can only say that, by the time I'd come to terms with my fate, my throat stung with effort. By then I'd collapsed onto the cold ground with my bike lying to the side.

My hands and clothes were wet, but not from the water falling above, from my own source. I sat there for maybe a minute, contemplating how long it would take for me to really die in this forbidden place. But then, what little will I had left to live emerged, and with it came a sense of logic. If I didn't have a way out the direction I'd come, maybe I'd have a chance to get through to the other side. After all, others claimed to have done it before, even though they never spoke of being trapped inside beforehand. Still, this was a tunnel, and tunnels always had another way out on the other side. It would be my only chance, but it was a chance. Mustering up what energy I had left from breaking down, I hauled myself to

my feet and gathered my bike. Quickly, the remaining tears upon my face were wiped away by a sleeve, and I inhaled deeply, exhaled, then slowly began to move forward. This time I stayed along the wall, instead of following the open path made. I figured this way I'd be able to tell when the tunnel took a turn, or when it branched off, so I could steer clear of it if possible. I hoped so, anyway. Step by step, I headed deeper into the mountain's stomach, the walls going from high and mighty to a more enclosing space. I perceived no turns, so I thought that maybe since the tunnel had been abandoned, they hadn't fully carved out

the high ceilings before everything was lost. This brought little comfort, though. What made things even worse, yet more fascinating, was when I came across a small pile of old pickaxes lying at the base of the wall I walked. They were clearly from the war's efforts. The wood almost rotted completely away from years being in heavy, humid air, porous and nearly like shriveled sponge. The metal heads were rusted greatly, deformed by the oxidation, and a thick coating of dust blanketed it all.

For a moment I stopped to stare in wonder and caution, having almost tripped over the sudden collection in my small circle of luminescence. How many people had been down here working on the tunnel? How many after had come to see remnants of the past such as this? Judging by the undisturbed dust, I would say not many. Perhaps I was the only one to witness these relics for decades. Even so, even in my moment of wonder, I knew I had to press forward. So I left the pile as it was, undisturbed by anything of the outside world. Continuing on, I began to notice various other objects lying about. Hammers, hinges, lanterns, even a small metal box all lay scattered

throughout the tunnel's interior and somewhere in my path. Then, came the worst thing I could have come across. After walking for what felt like a mile, I was met face to face with another wall, a dead end tapering down into a rounded point with walls pressing close to my personal bubble.

But how, I thought. I'd been watching where I was going, and the wall I'd followed had never taken a turn to my perception, not even a gradual one. How was I at such a clear end that wasn't my destination? In hindsight, I suppose the long-forgotten tools should have been my clue that I had deviated from the main tunnel and went down instead a mining shaft. But at the moment, I hadn't thought of the tools. I only let out an aggravated yowl and carefully turned myself and my bike

to head back the way I'd come. And hopefully, I'd find the main tunnel again. I walked and walked, following the same slick surface I had before to go back. But no matter how much I stepped forward, I never seemed to really go anywhere. The tunnel all looked the same, walls and ceiling close, stretching further onward in what looked like a straight shot into everlasting darkness. Yet never again did I find those hammers and hinges and lanterns. Never did I regain sight of the pickaxe pile,

even though I'd retraced my path exactly the way I'd come. Suddenly, the light of my headlamp caught the sheen of something truly awful. At the edge of its golden radius, a weathered but clearly discernible length caught my attention. Shakily, I looked onward, slowly panning the light upon my head further up the object. A skeleton's leg led to tattered pants, which led to a ripped shirt that connected upwards to a torso, and beaten skull slumped against a jutting rock. It's safe to say I let out the beginnings of a scream, but the reverberation hurt my own ears, so I covered my mouth firmly with both hands, allowing my bike to clatter over in the process.

Before me rested the ancient skeleton of what I can only assume to be a soldier of the war, given his dark green shirt and grey pants uniform, no matter how tattered and torn. He sat there against the rock and wall, leaning with his half-skull nestled into the nook naturally formed. An arm rested merely at his side, while the other unfortunately held a small pistol. It was then that I noticed nearby was his helmet, a bowl now for containing the dripping water, rather than protecting his head, or what was left of it. Why had he done this to himself? Had he gone insane during the war?

Or had he been trapped in this mountain like I was now, unable to find his own way out in the twisting, shifting cavern walls? I shuddered to think what had been going on through his mind before it was destroyed by his own hand, vividly able to imagine his own prior terror and hopelessness. I prayed, then, that I wouldn't suffer the same fate, being trapped so long that I wished for death as a means of escape. I left his remains alone, allowing the dust to further accumulate over his bones without interruption.

Picking up my bike, I stared at the bare corpse, a small part of me waiting for it to reanimate and lunge for my legs or arms, as if some kind of nightmare which would never end. But as you can expect, nothing happened. It never moved, and I moved on, slowly. By then my stomach had started to growl, gnawing at my conscious mind to find something edible, but I knew there would be nothing here in this cave. What had once been food years ago would have then been more accompanying stone. I hadn't even seen any bats or another living creature at all since first entering the tunnels Gabe. Yet my hunger persisted, forcing my mind to wander and remember delicious meals of roast veal, the salty broth of eintop, and sweet essence of black forest gateau cakes.

This led my brain to think of my poor mother. She would be worried sick when I never returned home, when I never received another embrace in her loving arms. While father would be furious, she would be sobbing with worry. Guilt settled and I wished then more than ever that I had just taken the road around the mountain to be late getting home. In that tunnel, being stuck wandering in the chill and black void for what had definitely

been hours, seeing relics of the long forgotten past, and finding the final resting place of a soldier trapped as I was, I wished for the beating from my father. That was nothing compared to the hell I'd been facing inside of that dreadfully atrocious mountain. It was then that I noticed something new in my path. Once more, having followed the wall the way I had come, Eisenwolfentunnel had shifted.

Instead of the mine shaft opening up into the main tunnel, I was faced with a choice. Branching to the left straight ahead, and to the right, were three smaller tunnels, each one leading only further into the abyss. By then, I'd come to terms with the fact that retracing my steps was useless. The worthless paths I tried to retake never ended up back where I'd come from. I had no choice but to go forward in this endeavor, or simply sit for death as the soldier had done.

With the second option not yet viable, I chose to press onward. I used a simple tune akin to Eenie Meen miny, moe as a means of random selection, eventually opting for the tunnel on the right. Gradually, I entered, bike still by my side. I don't know why I still kept on to it at that point in time. In the squeezing expanses, I found myself constantly traversing. The bicycle had no use. I couldn't ride it.

Not also with the shadows closing in and paths so uncertain. Perhaps it gave me a sense of familiarity. Maybe it was the only thing keeping my childish, draining mind on the task at hand. Maybe it was the only thing keeping me sane. Either way, I never left that thing behind, nor held it any more away from my body that its bar couldn't slightly dig into my moving hip. Along this span of particular tunnel, I found the ceiling going up, then pressing back down in waves,

as if it mimicked the way of an ocean. The walls, however, always stayed the same, bending here and there in close quarters, but never truly making a solid turn. Imagine my exasperated surprise when that hole opened up to allow my headlamp to shine onto the familiar, distressing sight of the deceased soldier sitting against the stone. Quickly and without much thought,

I raced back down the tunnel I'd been to previously, continuing past the decrepit bones as I had once done, and landing myself back at the interesting tunnels. This time I went left, and to my unfortunate exacerbation, I landed right back in the same spot, the soldier before me once more. It seemed the more I moved, the less sense the mountain made. How could a single tunnel with no other branchings lead to the same exact spot from the same exact perspective as another? Logic didn't exist anymore. One last time I tried my luck and took the tunnel down the straight middle. It stretched deeper and deeper

but never curved. I swear this one never curved to the left or right. If I had had something to shoot down the center, I know it would have traveled far before ever hitting a wall. For minutes I walked until the ground started to slope downwards, at a rapid descent, taking me even more beyond reality.

And yet, I let it. I carefully inched my way down, placing each step of my shoe hesitantly upon the slick, angled ground. At first, it wasn't so bad. I made it a good way down without incident, and then my foot slipped. With it, I was sent tumbling down, my bike, which I had been clutching onto tightly at my side and slightly behind me, coming down after me. I rolled quickly with a yelp, hitting my body in various places off the rocky surface and most definitely having my bike smash into my teeth, causing a bloodied chip to be born, before plunging into a deep pool.

I was submerged, instantly soaked to the bone and gasping for breath, only to have disgusting iron-rich fluid fill my mouth and nose. Like a fish out of water and a boy in it, I flailed, desperate for something I needed to fill my lungs and to find the surface. I swear to you, while I was under and panicking, something touched my arm. Actually, a lot of somethings touched me. What I can only describe as many hands of various sizes grabbed my body and they pushed me up. My head finally broke the surface tension, and I gasped loudly. By the light of my now flickering headlamp, I swam the short distance back to the slope I'd come from, sure it was the same one by the fresh gouges my bike's metal handlebars had scored into the stone on our way down.

I clambered up into that little shore and heaved, coughing up foul liquid and feeling the sting of many cuts and scrapes fresh on my body. I didn't even try to find my bike, as I knew it was lost forever in the depths. I simply instead spread my arms and legs to press my feet and hands firmly against the narrow tunnel walls to climb my way back up the slope. As soon as I made it back up, my headlamps, then much dimmer, fading light, caught it again. I wailed as the entire span of that tunnel I'd traversed before had been erased on my return, along with one of the other branching paths, leaving only two. Finally, I curled up next to the dead soldier, at last defeated by this godforsaken tunnel. Without touching the bones

I drew near and slumped against the wall as he did then cried once more my lamp completely going out. Fully engulfed by the void shivering from the cold drenched and exhausted I accepted my defeat

broken as a glass vase dropped on wooden floor. For a long time I cried again, eventually curling up into a ball with knees to my chest and arms wrapped around, head down. I bawled my eyes out in the darkness, eyes unable to adjust with no light left, and tears blocking vision anyway. It was there that I subjected myself to the thought of true death. I would never escape this hellish encampment. I would never again see my mother or receive her kisses or hugs. I would certainly starve here, or perhaps die of infection from my many fresh wounds that would go untreated. Either way, the light of day should never more bathe my body or grace my sight.

No light would. Even my own wails and heartbeat would be the only indication the nightmare wasn't over, the soldier my only other companion. In the silence long after my fit, I heard it shattered by something other than my heart and steady cave drips. Footsteps, clear as day. Footsteps echoed, bounding off the walls in a calm and steady pace, heading directly for my location. My heart nearly leapt, threatening to burst from my ribs as I rose my head from between my knees to see a faint glow of orange progressively growing near. However, barely any thoughts crossed my mind. I could only

think either I would have someone else who was trapped to die with, or just maybe I would finally wake up from such a horrid dream. Within moments, he was upon me, the light of his lantern burning my darkness-adjusted eyes. I raised my hand to block some of it out, but through squinted eyelids, I saw his black boots giving way to neatly tucked gray pants. In German, he spoke to me. German being my first language, I understood every word, but he had a defining accent of the likes I could not put my finger on.

It sounded almost like the accent my grandfather spoke. He asked me if I was lost, to which I simply nodded, unsure of what to actually say, or if I was even able to speak anymore from a throat raw with wailing. In response to my nod, he smiled, and I saw this from my eyes finally adjusting to his lantern light.

Letting my hand fall, I gazed up at a young man in a soldier's uniform. His stubbly face was narrow and supple, no doubt showing an age of around nearly 18 to 20 years, with brown hair poking out from under a textured helmet.

Blue eyes gazed down to my surely beaten, dirty form with a soft warmth, and the corners of his mouth pointed slightly upwards. With his free hand he gestured for me to get up, and I did, never taking my eyes off of him. Common, he simply said to me, then turned and began to walk away. With nothing else to go on and curiosity growing with a newfound hope, I followed him at a limping pace. He headed to one of the branching tunnels,

the one I'd come from after spilling into water and nearly drowning, and the other that remained but had once been the leftmost tunnel. The soldier glanced back at me with that smile, still adorning his face, and he headed into the left tunnel. With nothing left to lose and not even caring for my life anymore, I followed. We wandered wordlessly through the stone corridor for some time, the tunnel having now somehow

shifted to wind to the right and then the left, going up gradually a ways, and then back down before once more waning to the right. All the while, the soldier never once turned to look back at me, but the obvious sound of my footsteps pattered behind his with a distinct squish sound from being waterlogged. I never broke the silence myself either, exchanging no words with this man but merely trailing along behind him and keeping my eyes either on the back of his mostly shaved, capped head or on the flickering glow of his lantern's flame. Eventually, we rounded a final corner, and miraculously, I saw more light. Up ahead, perhaps a mere thirty meters, the sun shone brightly into the tunnel's

form, pink and new. At first I thought it a hallucination, a trick of the mind brought on by false hope and delirium. Then the more I gazed, the more details of the outside world came to me. Trees along the right side swayed as they created a forest with vast undergrowth, tangling and stretching out onto the dirt path. Beyond that, following the path, I saw the paved road meet it and turn off towards my small town, buildings in the far distance as the sun peeked in from the left, rising high rather soon. Frankly, at first I felt no joy, but seeing those trees,

that road, the structures, and the light, what little ember of hope I'd somehow had left in my ragged body grew to the size of a roaring blaze. I shared no words with the man who led me there,

and opted instead to mindlessly run towards the outside world ahead. Twenty-five meters, twenty meters, 15, 10, then 5, I broke through the tunnel's consuming maw, bursting forth from the darkness to be gratefully bathed in warm splendor. I can tell you now the sun on my face that day blinding my tired eyes was the best feeling I'd ever felt. Despite my still wet and chilled figure, the aches in my joints and stinging on torn skin, I smiled.

No more tears left in me and face and throat sore from crying so much before I didn't weep. However, had I the ability to, it surely would have come to occur. I was nearly home, but I was absolutely free. In one swift motion, I spun on my heels to turn back to the accursed tunnel with intention of thanking my rescuer, but he was nowhere to be found. I had expected him to follow me out of the darkness, but he simply never had. I didn't hear any footsteps echo away

and I no longer saw the life-saving light of his lantern. He was simply gone. For what it was worth, I mustered my strength and rasped aloud, Thank you! into the abyss, the words faintly coming back to my own ears. If he was still in there,

I hoped he had heard. With every fiber of my being frayed, I drug my feet back home. Upon opening the front door to my small hovel, I was instantly greeted by my worried sick mother, who scooped me up into her arms and hugged and kissed me like she never had before. Father, thankfully, was away at work

at the time. I'd still received my beating that night for having been gone so long, apparently the entire night, but I was never more happy to be home. In the end, I never procured my beloved bike back, but there was only so much I could be upset about it. I had made it home with my life, though my mind was forever scarred by what I'd experienced in Eisen-Wolfentunnel. The true raw terror, the confusion, the pain,

it still has not left me, and most likely never will. But I shall live with it, for I'm alive. I'm thankful to be so. Looking back, I'm not certain that the man who had saved my life was even real. A large portion of my soul wants to believe he was that soldier I'd found slumped over in the dark. I want to say he had never found his own way out in life,

but heard my distress and took it upon himself in the afterlife to guide me to freedom. Perhaps he has done this with others before, and may do so with those in the future, willing and stupid enough to enter such a cursed existence in space. Since my incident, I've never returned to the tunnel, nor do I even consider going nearer than I must to traverse the tar road around it. But every once in a while, on my way by, I will gaze into the all-consuming grasp of shadow with gratitude for that soldier, and mouth another, thank you, hoping he may just see it. Believe me or not, that is your call to make. I will, however, swear by this tale,

and I warn any who may dare to think of entering that tunnel to not be so wasteful of life. Nothing you could step into that tunnel for is worth it, especially not time that would be much better spent simply taking the road around. Don't be like me, for if you ever are so impatient or so scared to be late, know that your life and sanity are worth so much more. We'll see you next time. Wherever you go, you can get a pro at Tread Experts. Toyo's open country family of tires will get you through tough weather in a variety of terrains.

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