I had an encounter in February 2007.
I used to work the third shift at a paper stock factory
warehouse. The primary day shift supervisor
was on vacation, so our boss on the night shift decided she
wanted to leave early. She let us sneak off about two
hours earlier than our average shift time, which would end
somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00 AM.
I was following a Co worker down a County Road as the warehouse
was on the outskirts of my small rural town.
I noticed he hit his brakes and proceeded to swerve off the
road. I was probably about 1000 feet
behind him and I thought to myself what the heck is this
dude doing? And that's when I saw it.
I saw a tall dark figure walking down the middle of the road,
hunched over and swaying from side to side.
It moved in an unnatural way, similar to one of those tall
inflatable figures you see swaying at a car dealership.
It's hard to describe accurately, but it's something
that would make more sense if you saw it for yourself.
I saw what looked like a tall person wrapped in a large dark
blanket or cloak. I had to hit the brakes and
swerve, but I stopped completely.
I couldn't make out any features or characteristics.
I saw a large torso with two legs.
The upper half was hunched forward, leaning like an older
person would if they had a Walker or something to assist
them. At the time I was driving a 1998
Ford Explorer and I looked up the vehicle's height.
It's listed as about 67 inches. But whatever walked past my
driver's window that day was a good foot or so higher than that
leaning forward. So I believe whatever was
walking was over 7 feet tall at a minimum.
I couldn't see its head or arms, just a figure with legs walking.
My tail lights illuminated it as I started to drive past it.
I couldn't give you any real definite details about the body.
I didn't see fur, skin or anything like that.
It was solid, not like a translucent type of thing.
It was enormous, thick, black and maybe very dark Gray.
My Co worker had pulled into a parking lot a few miles down the
road and I followed him in. You could tell that he was
scared. He said something like what the
heck was that? It didn't look like it had a
head among many other things most panicked people would say.
We decided to drive back down and see if it was still there.
I went in front and he followed behind me.
We approached the general area and I noticed a large black
animal lying in the middle of the road.
It appeared to be a big black dog.
Part of me knew it wasn't large enough to be what it was before,
but I was still too scared to stop because it was in the
middle of the roadway. I didn't really have a choice
though. I decided to get out and walk up
to it, all the while my Co worker was yelling at me to get
back in my car. As I approached whatever it was
lying in the road, it raised its head and looked back at me, its
eyes glowing yellow, which I write off as I shine from the
headlights. But it growled at me so I
stopped dead in my tracks and just started watching it.
This thing stands up on its back legs like a person would, but it
falls back down. It sits back up and hobbles off
to the side of the road like a wounded animal that couldn't use
its front legs. It almost looked like your
typical German shepherd slash wolf type face, but it's fur was
puffy like a chow dog. It was a lot bigger than most
dogs I've ever seen, but still nowhere as tall as whatever was
walking down the road before. I didn't see any blood or
wounds, so I can't say if it was actually hurt or not.
We got back in our car and drove off.
Honestly, I'm pretty traumatized and I've been doing my best to
rationalize this experience. The thing that doesn't make any
sense though is what was going on and what did I stumble upon?
Did I find another creature attacking one?
Did I see something that got hit by a car and maybe the other
creature was checking it out? I don't know, what are your
thoughts? I've always found solace in the
wilderness. The isolation, the raw beauty,
the sense of purpose that comes with planting new life in the
ground. It all feeds a part of me that
the modern world seems intent on starving.
So when I got the assignment to plant trees near Smithers, BC, I
didn't hesitate. The remote location, about an
hour and a half into the mountains on dirt roads, was
exactly the kind of challenge I craved.
The journey was grueling, but I welcomed it.
My old truck groaned and shuddered over the rough
terrain, each jolt reminding me of the toughness required to do
this job. The road snaked through dense
forest, occasionally offering glimpses of the towering peaks
that surrounded me. The air was crisp and clean, a
welcome change from the smog choked cities I usually found
myself in. As I drove deeper into the
wilderness, a sense of anticipation began to build.
There's a unique thrill in knowing you're about to be
completely alone with nature. No cell service, no
distractions, just me and the trees.
By the time I reached the campsite, the sun was dipping
below the horizon, casting long shadows through the forest.
The standing dead trees, skeletal and silent, created an
eerie but oddly comforting backdrop.
Setting up camp was second nature to me.
I pitched my tent near a cluster of these dead trees, their
creeks and groans a familiar Symphony I had come to associate
with nights in the forest. As darkness fell, I made a small
fire, its warmth and light pushing back the encroaching
night. I ate a simple meal and settled
into my tent, the sounds of the forest lulling me into a sense
of security. That first night I slept
soundly. The creaking of the trees, the
rustling of leaves, even the occasional call of an owl, all
these sounds were like a lullaby.
The next day, I threw myself into my work, planting saplings
with a vigor that left me exhausted but satisfied by
evening. It was hard physical labor, but
it was honest work that left a tangible mark on the world.
The second night, however, something changed.
As I lay in my tent, I noticed a profound silence settling over
the forest. The usual Creeks and Russells
had ceased, replaced by a heavy stillness that felt unnatural.
I told myself it was just my imagination, the fatigue playing
tricks on me. But the silence persisted,
wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket.
Then, faintly at first, I heard it.
The sound of sticks cracking under foot, distant but
unmistakable. My pulse quickened as the sound
grew louder, closer. Footsteps, deliberate and heavy,
advancing through the forest. My mind raced.
Could it be a bear? A cougar?
The footsteps stopped no more than 15 feet from my tent.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I knew I had to do something. My heart pounded in my chest as
I summoned the courage to yell out, hoping to scare away
whatever was out there. My voice echoed through the
trees, a stark contrast to the surrounding silence.
But no reply came. No sound of retreat, no rustling
of leaves. Just silence.
I sat there, paralyzed by fear, trying to rationalize what had
just happened. Minutes stretched into what felt
like hours, the silence pressing in on me.
Then, out of nowhere, a sound unlike any I had ever heard
filled the air. It was a Creek, but not like the
usual creeks of the trees. This sound was drawn out, a
single note held for an unnervingly long time.
It felt like a mimicry, something trying to imitate the
natural sounds of the forest but failing in a way that sent
chills down my spine. I barely slept that night, my
mind racing with questions and fears.
What was out there? Why was it mimicking the trees?
The next day, the exhaustion was palpable, every step on my hike
weighed down by the sleepless night.
I tried to push the memory away, to focus on the work at hand,
but the unease lingered, a dark shadow on the edge of my
thoughts. The unease from the night before
stayed with me, like a shadow I couldn't shake.
As I worked through the day, planting saplings 1 by 1, my
mind kept drifting back to the sound, the mimicry that had
chilled me to the bone. I told myself it had to be
something explainable, something rational, but every time I tried
to settle on an answer, it slipped through my fingers like
smoke. That night, the forest seemed
even more oppressive. The usual sounds of the
wilderness felt muted, as if the trees themselves were holding
their breath. I forced myself to go through
the motions. Dinner by the campfire, a quick
check of my equipment, then into the tent.
But the routine offered little comfort.
Lying in my sleeping bag, I listened intently.
At first, all I could hear was my own breathing, slow and
steady, the rhythm of someone trying to convince himself he
wasn't scared. But soon enough, the silence
began to fray. Feign at first, then louder came
the unmistakable sound of sticks cracking under foot.
The footsteps were back, slow, deliberate, almost cautious, as
if whatever was out there knew I was listening.
Each step seemed to echo in the stillness, amplifying the
growing dread in my chest. I lay perfectly still, my ears
straining to pick up any detail, any clue as to what was stalking
my camp. The footsteps stopped, closer
this time, no more than 10 feet from my tent.
My heart pounded so hard I was sure it would give me away.
I knew I had to act, to do something to break the tension.
Summoning all the courage I had left, I shouted into the
darkness, my voice raw and desperate.
Get out of here. The echo of my shout faded,
swallowed by the forest. For a moment there was nothing
but silence, thick and impenetrable.
Then, just as I started to hope that maybe it had worked, I
heard it. That same unnatural Creek.
The sound was almost identical to the night before, but this
time it felt more deliberate, more menacing.
It held the same note, a drawn out groan that seemed to vibrate
through my bones. My mind raced, trying to make
sense of it. A bear, a cougar, Nothing in the
forest should be able to make a sound like that.
It was as if something was trying to mimic the trees, to
blend in, but with an eerie, almost mocking tone.
I lay there, paralyzed by fear. Every muscle in my body tensed.
The sound came again, closer this time, as if whatever it was
knew I was listening, knew it had my full attention.
It felt personal, like a predator playing with its prey.
Minutes dragged on, each one in eternity.
I wanted to flee, to run as fast as I could, but the rational
part of my mind told me it was safer to stay put, to wait it
out. Eventually, the mimicry stopped,
leaving a ringing silence in its wake.
The rest of the night passed in a haze of sleepless terror.
Every rustle, every Creek sent my heart racing.
I clung to the hope that daylight would bring some
clarity, some answer to the nightmare I was living.
When dawn finally broke, the forest seemed almost peaceful
again, the horrors of the night relegated to shadows.
But the unease remained, gnawing at me.
I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me,
waiting. As I packed up my camp, I knew I
couldn't ignore what had happened.
This was more than just a strange noise in the night.
It was a mystery, a threat, something that demanded answers.
And as I drove back down the dirt roads, the oppressive
silence of the forest lingered in my mind, a constant reminder
that I had only just begun to uncover the truth behind the
mimic in the woods. When I was younger, I preferred
to spend time at my great grandmother's house rather than
my own being right next door. My grandmother would often let
me spend the night with my great grandparents to Get Me Out of
her hair. My grandparents had their own
bedroom on one end of the house, and on the other end was the
room in which I slept whenever I visited.
This bedroom was big to a six or seven-year old, with a large bed
that had sliding glass door, cabinets for a headboard, and
two large windows, one of which had a crate of toys for it,
mostly building blocks and the like.
That face the side yard which had several young pine trees,
the other window face the large barn Outback that housed their
camper, and all manners of other things.
Before I continue, I ought to mention that I'm a quarter
Native American. My mother was adopted by a
family whose heritage was distinctly French, while my
grandmother wanted my mother and me to have nothing to do with
our heritage. My great grandmother embraced it
but never kept it from us and even taught us a little bit
about it. Me far less than my mother since
I was way too young to understand much before she
passed. One night when I was sleeping
over at my great grandma's house, I woke up when the motion
detecting flood light on the barn out the back turned on.
The room was flooded with light and I could see everything was
clear. Unable to go back to sleep, I
got up and decided to play with the blocks until the floodlight
went out and I could go back to sleep.
For some reason I felt the strange urge to look out the
window into the side yard, so I climbed up on the crate under
the window and peered out. There in the side yard was a
man. He was in his late teens, 17 to
19, with neatly cut straight black hair, nearly ear length.
He wasn't dark skinned, but he wasn't white either.
He wore what looked like tan Carhartt overalls and appeared
to be examining a young pine tree not 15 feet from the
window. The tree wasn't very tall, maybe
eight or nine feet, but the young man was carefully moving
the bottom branches this way and that, as if looking for
something. I watched him for a minute or
two, simply observing. I didn't feel frightened, rather
I was curious. Then the young man lifted his
head and looked around. When he saw me, the strangest
thing happened. He looked startled, almost
terrified. His eyes widened so far that I
could make out their whites in the low light.
There's no other way to explain what occurred after that other
than the crazy sounding one. He turned into a deer and bolted
away into the darkness. He simply turned to his left,
dropped to all fours, and was a deer by the time that he would
have hit his hands on the ground.
He ran off beyond the barn where I couldn't see.
I don't remember the conversation I had with my
grandmother about this in the morning, only that she seemed
upset and was tight lipped and that she and my great
grandfather went out to look for that exact tree later that day.
They didn't find anything and my grandfather didn't want to hear
about it anymore, so I shrugged it off.
Years later I would learn what skinwalkers are.
I would think back to the young man and how he could have been a
skinwalker, how his overalls could have been deer skin.
I would also think that my experience didn't line up with
other skinwalker encounters. I didn't feel any fear, I didn't
notice a stench, and no one called my name.
Also, the young man seemed to be afraid of me.
Then again, I suppose if I were looking for something and I saw
a small child staring at me at a window, I'd probably be pretty
freaked out too. As time went on, I had for the
most part convinced myself that I had just happened to witness a
teen boy hunting illegally on our property and my startling
him startled the deer he was after and my child brain just
processed it strangely. That is until I decided to bring
up the concept of skinwalkers to my mother.
I had told her about what I could have possibly seen one day
when I was a child when she said, oh you saw the Birdman too
huh? My belief that I misremembered a
teen boy hunting shattered. She wouldn't say much about it
when I seemed confused, simply stating oh there was an old
balding man who would dance around the roof with his belt
made of feathers and when I would go out there to yell at
him for being so loud, he'd smile at me and fly off like a
bird. I'm 16 and live in the western
United States. I've been involved in rodeo for
as long as I can remember. This story took place late last
winter. My brother, our close friend T,
and I had gotten permission to use the arena at a local
reservation to practice roping. We arrived early in the morning,
eager to make the most of our day.
As soon as we got there, I noticed something was off.
All of our horses seemed unusually on edge.
My brother's horse and TS horse are usually calm and don't spook
easily. My mare, on the other hand, is
always a handful. She panics at the littlest
things. That day she was particularly
jittery. We figured the horses just
needed to get used to their new surroundings.
We spent most of the day throwing ropes and chasing
cattle. The horses seem to settle down a
bit and we started to relax. By afternoon, we decided to take
a break and explore a trail that led down to a nearby river.
The idea was to let the horses drink and give ourselves a bit
of a rest. As we approach the river, a foul
smell hit us. It was like a rotting dead
animal. The closer we got, the worse it
became. The horses tensed up again.
My mare flat out refused to go any further.
Frustrated and tired, we decided to call it a day.
It was too late to load up our gear and horses and take them
back, so we opted to leave them there for the night and stay at
T's place, which was closer. We prepared the stalls, fed and
watered the horses, and headed to T's family friend's house for
dinner. The evening was a welcome
distraction. We laughed, played pool, and
enjoyed a good meal. By the time 9:00 rolled around,
we were ready for bed, but I wanted to check on the horses
one last time. When I mentioned this to T, his
family friend warned us not to go there alone at night.
T offered to drive down with me, respecting the warning.
The road was icy, so we had to drive slowly.
As we neared the bridge over the river a feeling of dread hit me.
I looked out the window and saw glowing yellow eyes staring back
at me from the darkness. The light wasn't enough to make
them glow the way they did. I felt something was very wrong.
T turned to me and asked. Do you smell something bad or is
it just me? I hadn't noticed the smell until
she mentioned it. When I didn't respond she looked
at me then followed my gaze to the yellow eyed glare.
We were both terrified. The creature looked like it was
at least 8 feet tall. There are no animals that large
around here. I finally snapped out of it and
hit the gas. The truck slid on the ice but
caught traction and we made our way back to the arena.
When we pulled up, the headlights hit the horses.
My mare hadn't touched her food, which was odd because she
usually eats more than her fair share.
The other two hadn't eaten either.
Too scared and cold to investigate further, we got back
in the truck and drove back to TS house without incident.
We arrived around 11:00 PM and fell asleep almost immediately.
But in the middle of the night my brother woke me up.
Shaking my arm, he pointed to the window where we heard
tapping and occasional scratching.
It was three. AMI tried to calm him down,
saying it was probably nothing, but I knew deep down it was that
thing from the bridge. I didn't sleep the rest of the
night, and as soon as the sun was up, I woke T and my brother
to get our horses and leave. The sun finally rose and I was
still wide awake. The sense of dread from the
night before hadn't left me. I woke up T and my brother,
explaining that we needed to get to the horses as soon as
possible. We quickly got ready and grabbed
some coffee, needing the caffeine after the sleepless
night. Before we left, T and I decided
to check outside the window where we had heard the tapping
and scratching. Sure enough, there were tracks
in the snow. They looked like deer hooves,
but we're different. The tracks were spaced too far
apart, as if whatever made them was walking on two legs instead
of four. This spooked us even more, and
we hurried back inside to tell my brother we didn't waste any
more time. We jumped in the truck and
headed back to the reservation. The drive felt longer than
usual, the tension in the air making every minute drag.
None of us spoke much. We were all too anxious about
what we might find. When we got to the arena, the
horses were still in their stalls.
They hadn't touched their food or water.
Just like last night. This was completely out of
character, especially for my mare.
She usually ate everything Insight.
Something had definitely scared them.
We quickly loaded up the horses, eager to get out of there.
As we finished, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being
watched. We drove off, the atmosphere in
the truck heavy with fear and uncertainty.
As we approached the bridge over the river, I felt my heart start
to race. I couldn't help but look into
the tree line, hoping not to see anything.
But there it was, a massive buck.
It was larger than any deer I'd ever seen, with skin hanging
loosely from its bones. Its legs were bent in unnatural
ways, making it look like a twisted, nightmarish creature.
And then I saw its eyes. Those same terrifying yellow
eyes from the night before. The buck seemed to be staring
right at me, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
It looks sickly and unnatural, like something out of a horror
movie. But the worst part was its
smile. It had a sickening grin with
yellow pointed teeth. I couldn't look away, feeling
like it was trying to pull me in with its gaze.
I snapped out of it and quickly looked away, telling T and my
brother what I had seen. They glanced out the window,
their faces paling when they saw the creature.
None of us could understand what it was or why it was following
us. We speed up, desperate to get
away. The rest of the drive was a
blur, my mind racing with questions and fears.
What was that thing? Why was it here and what did it
want with us? When we finally got home, we
unloaded the horses and made sure they were safe and
comfortable. I felt a little better knowing
they were out of that place, but the sense of unease still
lingered. I couldn't shake the feeling
that we hadn't seen the last of that creature.
Over the next few days, I tried to go back to my normal routine,
but it was hard. Every time I closed my eyes, I
saw those yellow eyes and that horrible grin.
I knew we had encountered something beyond our
understanding, something that would haunt me for a long time,
and I couldn't help but wonder if it was still out there,
watching and waiting. I still remember that October
night vividly, even though it's been a few years.
My best friend Jake and I were 16, and hunting was our thing.
Growing up in Texas, it was a pretty common hobby, but for us,
it was more than that. It was an adventure.
We spent countless evenings perched in our hunting stand,
rifles ready, waiting for wild hogs to wander into our sights.
Jake's yard was massive, sprawling across 4 acres with
two ponds, one on the side of his house and another in the
front. It was a beautiful place,
especially in the fall when the air was crisp and the leaves
were turning. But the hogs were a problem.
They dug holes everywhere, tearing up the yard and
uprooting plants. Hunting them wasn't just for
sport, it was necessary. That night we were sitting in
the hunting stand Jake and his dad had built a few months back.
It was sturdy and well placed at the back left of the upper front
pond closest to the house. From our vantage point, we could
see the feeder about 80 feet ahead, set in a clearing at the
very back of the yard. We were hoping for a successful
night. It was around 10:00 PM when we
settled in. The night was still, with only
the occasional rustle of leaves or distant croak of a frog
breaking the silence. We had our rifles equipped with
infrared flashlights. The beams shone red, invisible
to most animals, which made it easier to spot our targets
without startling them. We sat quietly scanning the
clearing, our breath visible in the cool night air.
Suddenly we noticed movement. At first we thought it was a
deer. The shape was unmistakable, a
graceful figure stepping cautiously into the open.
We were excited, but knew we couldn't shoot.
It wasn't deer season and we didn't want to break the law,
but something about this deer felt off.
It stood there, not moving, just staring in our direction.
Jake and I exchanged uneasy glances.
What's it doing? I whispered.
Jake shrugged, his eyes never leaving the creature.
We waited for it to pass, hoping it would move on so we could
focus on the hogs, but it didn't.
Instead, it kept looking at us, almost like it was fixated on
us. My heart began to race.
Then the unthinkable happened. The deer stood up on its hind
legs. For a moment, we were too
stunned to react. It was as if time had stopped.
Then Jake and I started yelling, unable to contain our fear.
That wasn't a good idea. The creature let out a screech,
a sound so unnatural it made my skin crawl.
It was metallic, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the
grinding of gears. My hair stood on end as the
thing started sprinting toward us in a zigzag pattern.
I barely had time to think. Instinct took over and I raised
my rifle, firing twice. One of the shots hit it, and it
fell on its back. In that brief moment, everything
seemed to slow down, and I got a good look at it.
It wasn't a deer. It was something else entirely.
The creature was pure Gray, extremely skinny, with a rack of
antlers on its head. Its eyes were dark, almost
empty. When it got its bearings, it
scrambled to its feet and high tailed it back into the woods,
screeching that horrible metallic noise again.
Jake and I sat there, frozen, trying to process what had just
happened. My mind raced with questions.
What was that thing? How could something so
terrifying exist? I didn't have any answers then,
and to this day I'm still not sure.
But one thing was certain, I wasn't going back into that yard
after dark ever again. The drive back to Jake's house
was a blur. My hands were shaking so much I
could barely grip the steering wheel.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, we sat in the truck
trying to catch our breath. Neither of us spoke.
It was like we were both trying to make sense of what just
happened. Eventually, Jake broke the
silence. What the hell was that, man?
His voice was barely above a whisper, still tinged with fear.
I don't know. I replied, my own voice shaky.
It wasn't any animal I've ever seen.
We stumbled out of the truck and hurried inside, slamming the
door behind us. Jake's parents were already
asleep, so we crept upstairs to his room.
Once there, we finally let ourselves talk about it.
I thought it was a deer. Jake said, pacing the room.
But it stood up like a person. And that screech, it was like
something out of a nightmare. I nodded, my mind replaying the
moment over and over. And its eyes, Jake, did you see
its eyes? They were so dark, it was like
they were empty. We spent hours talking, trying
to piece together every detail. The more we talked, the more
real it became and the more scared we felt.
What if it came back? What if it was still out there
watching us? The thoughts and chills down my
spine. Eventually exhaustion took over
and we fell asleep. But even in sleep I couldn't
escape it. My dreams were haunted by the
creatures metallic screech and those empty dark eyes.
The next morning we were both exhausted but determined to find
out more. Jake suggested we check the spot
where I had shot it. So after a quick breakfast, we
grabbed our gear and headed back to the hunting stand.
As we approached the clearing, my heart pounded in my chest.
I didn't know what we'd find, blood tracks, or worse, the
creature itself, but we had to know.
When we reached the spot, we found blood on the ground.
It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to confirm that I had hit
it. There were also strange tracks
leading back into the woods, unlike any animal tracks we had
ever seen. They were long and narrow,
almost like a person's footprints but with claw marks.
We followed the tracks a little way into the woods but soon lost
them. The forest was dense and it felt
like the trees were closing in on us.
Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made us jump.
We decided to turn back before we got too deep.
Back at the house, we researched everything we could think of.
Folklore, cryptids, paranormal encounters.
We read about creatures like the Wendigo and the Skinwalker, but
nothing seemed to match exactly what we had seen.
The lack of answers only made it worse.
It was like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.
Days turned into weeks and the fear slowly started to fade, but
it never really went away. Every time I was in Jake's yard,
I couldn't help but look over my shoulder, half expecting to see
those dark eyes staring back at me.
We never saw the creature again, but the memory of that night
stayed with us. It changed something in us.
We weren't just two kids hunting in the Texas woods anymore.
We had seen something that defied explanation, something
that made us question everything we thought we knew.
Even now, years later, I still wonder what it was.
Sometimes, when the night is quiet and the air is cool, I
find myself back in that hunting stand, reliving the encounter.
And every time, the fear is just as real as it was that night.
I've been a geocacher for over a decade.
For those who don't know, geocaching is a real world
outdoor treasure hunting game. Using GPS enabled devices,
participants navigate to a specific set of GPS coordinates
and then attempt to find the geocache or container hidden at
the location. The thrill of the hunt, the joy
of discovering something hidden in plain sight, and the
camaraderie of fellow enthusiasts have kept me hooked.
I lead a small group of professional geocachers.
We're known for tackling the most challenging hides that
stump even the most seasoned of prose.
Our latest obsession was a hide called the Devil's Puzzle.
It had a difficulty rating of five out of five, the highest
possible. No one had logged a find since
it was rumored to have been put up two years ago, and the cash
owner had long since vanished from the community.
Rumor had it that the coordinates led to an area of
the woods notorious for its dark history of devil worship and
human sacrifice. It was a cold, Gray morning when
we set out. My team consisted of Jim, a tech
wizard with an uncanny knack for decoding even the most cryptic
of clues, Sarah, whose sharp eyes missed nothing, and Mark, a
local history buff who often provided crucial context about
the areas we explored. We were ready for whatever the
devil's puzzle could throw at us, or at least we thought so.
The first coordinates LED us to the edge of a dense forest
locally known as the Dark Woods. The stories about this place
were the stuff of urban legend in the 1800s.
It was said to be the site of old rituals and gruesome
sacrifices. People claimed to have heard
chanting and seen strange lights at night.
As we approached, an uneasy feeling settled over us.
The trees seem to close in their gnarled branches, twisting like
skeletal fingers. The cash description was vague,
but mentioned a series of waypoints, each puzzle leading
to the next. The first clue was carved into
an old crumbling stone inside the tree line.
Jim took out his equipment and began scanning it while Sarah
and Mark searched the area for additional hints.
The stone bore a series of numbers and symbols.
After just a couple of minutes, Jim cracked the code and we were
off to the next waypoint. The deeper we ventured, the
darker and colder it became. The trees grew denser, blocking
out the sunlight. We reached the second waypoint,
a small, dilapidated cabin. Inside, the smell of decay was
overwhelming. In one corner we found a rusted
metal box containing old photographs and scraps of paper
with more symbols. Mark recognized the symbols used
in old occult practices, but their meaning eluded him.
After hours of piercing together the clues, we deciphered the
following coordinates. As we trekked further, we
noticed a strange silence. There didn't seem to be any
birds or rustling of leaves, just an oppressive stillness
that lurked around every nook and cranny.
The air grew thick, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, we arrived at an old stone altar covered in Moss and
Ivy. It was eerily pristine compared
to the surrounding decay. This was the final waypoint.
There was a metal box on the altar, similar to the one in the
cabin. It was locked, but Jim had come
prepared. He quickly picked the lock and
we opened it to find a single yellowed piece of parchment.
On it was a hand drawn map leading to the final cash
location deep in the heart of the woods.
An overwhelming sense of dread washed over me as we followed
the map. The path LED us to a clearing,
at the center of which was a large stone circle, similar to
those used in ancient rituals. In the center of the circle was
a wooden box, intricately carved with strange symbols.
We approached with caution, the air heavy with an unseen
presence. When we opened the box, we found
a small, leather bound journal. As I flipped through its pages,
my hands began to tremble. The journal detailed the
activities of a cult that had once operated in these very
woods. It spoke of summoning rituals,
human sacrifices, and a guardian bound to protect the caches
secrets. The last entry was a warning.
Those who seek this treasure will find only death.
Suddenly the air grew colder and a low guttural growl emanated
from the darkness beyond the clearing.
We froze. Sarah screamed as a shadowy
figure emerged from the trees, its eyes glowing and unnatural
red. We bolted, adrenaline fueling
our escape. As we ran.
I could hear them, whatever they were, crashing through the
underbrush behind us, their growls getting louder.
We stumbled back to the cabin, barricading ourselves inside.
The journal mentioned a way to banish the Guardian, a ritual
involving fire and the symbols we had seen.
Desperation fueled our actions as we recreated the symbols
around the cabin and set fire to the journal.
The air filled with an ear splitting screech and the ground
shook violently. Then there was silence.
We waited until dawn before daring to leave the cabin.
The forest felt different, lighter somehow.
We returned to civilization, our faces pale and our hearts heavy.
The authorities dismissed our story as a collective
hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion, but we
knew the truth. The Devil's puzzle had been
solved, but at a significant cost.
We vowed to never return to those woods, leaving the secrets
of the past buried where they belonged.
And though we continued to geocache, the thrill of the hunt
was forever tainted by the memories of what we unleashed in
those cursed woods. They always say Curiosity killed
the cat, but no one mentions what happens when Curiosity gets
the best of a human. My name is Lucas and my
curiosity nearly killed me, or perhaps something worse.
I have always been fascinated by mysteries and eerie tales of the
unexplained. I was hooked when I first
stumbled upon the lore of the missing 411 cases, people
disappearing without a trace in national parks, especially
Yosemite. It was the perfect blend of
intrigue and terror for my taste.
In the spring of 2023, I decided to dig deeper into these
mysteries. With my hiking gear, a sturdy
tent, and enough provisions to last at least a week, I set out
to uncover the secrets hidden within Yosemite National Park.
The park's beauty is unparalleled, but beneath its
serene surface, I felt an unsettling tension that gnawed
at my resolve. Day one of my expedition was
rather uneventful. I set up camp near the base of
El Capitan, marveling at the sheer rock face towering above
me. The day passed with nothing but
the sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves.
However, as night fell, a heavy silence descended upon the
forest. It was as if the entire park was
holding its breath. Around midnight, I awoke to the
faint sound of a child's laughter.
The sound was distant, almost ethereal.
My rational mind told me it was just the wind playing tricks,
but a more profound, primal part of me knew better.
I sat up, listening intently. The laughter grew louder than
abruptly stopped, replaced by an oppressive silence.
I didn't sleep well that night, to say the least.
The next day, I hiked deeper into the wilderness, determined
to reach an area with the most disappearances.
The deeper I went, the less the park resembled the idyllic place
I had visited. The trees seemed older, more
gnarled and twisted, as if shaped by unseen forces.
The air felt thicker, charged with an inexplicable energy.
Sometime around noon, I stumbled upon an old, dilapidated cabin,
half hidden by the underbrush. My heart raced as I approached
it, the door creaking ominously as I pushed it open.
Inside, the cabin was an absolute shambles, as if
abandoned in a hurry. Dust covered the furniture and
everything lay scattered about. The stove in the corner looked
like it hadn't been touched in many years, but what caught my
eye the most was a diary lying on the table, its pages yellowed
with age and grime. The diary belonged to someone
named Henry, who had written about his solo hike in Yosemite
in the early 1980s. His entries started rather
normally, detailing his love for nature and peace in the
wilderness. But as the days went by, his
entries grew darker. He spoke of strange lights in
the woods, whispers that seemed to follow him, and shadows that
moved independently. His final entry sent chills down
my spine. They're watching me.
They know I can see them. I don't think I'll make it out.
If anyone finds this, beware the shadows.
They're not what they seem. As I read those words, a cold
dread washed over my body. I decided to leave the cabin and
continue my hike, but a nagging fear had taken root.
As the day wore on, I couldn't shake the feeling of being
watched. The forest seemed to close in
around me, the trees whispering secrets I couldn't quite
understand. That night I made camp near a
small clearing. I was too unnerved to sleep, so
I sat by the fire, clutching my flashlight.
The forest around me was deathly quiet.
The sound of the crackling fire was all I could hear.
Around midnight, I heard it again.
A child's laughter, closer this time.
My blood ran cold as I saw a figure standing at the edge of
the clearing. It was a child, or at least it
looked like one. But there was something wrong,
something off about its features.
Its eyes were too large, reflecting the firelight like a
cat's. It just watched me with an
unsettling intensity. I called out to it, but it
didn't respond. Instead, it turned and walked
back into the forest, vanishing into the shadows.
I didn't sleep at all that night.
How could I? As dawn broke, I packed up and
continued my hike, hoping to put as much distance between myself
and that clearing as humanly possible.
But no matter how far I went, I couldn't escape the feeling of
being watched. On the 4th day, I reached a
remote area called Tenaya Canyon, which locals called the
Bermuda Triangle of Yosemody. The area had an eerie beauty,
but was filled with foreboding. Too exhausted to go further, I
set up camp by the river. As night fell, the atmosphere
grew heavy with tension. I built a fire and sat close by
it to feel safe, my flashlight within reach the entire time.
Somewhere around midnight, the forest came alive with strange
noises. Whispers echoed through the
trees and shadowy figures darted just beyond the firelight.
My heart pounded as I saw the child again, standing at the
edge of the clearing. This time, I didn't think it was
alone. More figures emerged from the
shadows, their eyes reflecting the fire light.
They surrounded me, their whispers growing louder.
Panic set in, and I grabbed my flashlight, shining it at the
figures. They recoiled, but didn't
disappear, panic still deep within my veins.
Their whispers filled my mind, incomprehensible yet maddeningly
persistent. Desperation took over, and I did
the only thing I could think of. I ran.
I grabbed my backpack and sprinted into the forest, not
caring where I was going or where I would end up.
The whispers followed me, growing louder and more
insistent. The forest seemed to twist and
turn around me, the trees closing in.
I stumbled over roots and branches, my heart pounding as I
desperately tried to find my way out.
After what felt like hours, I stumbled into a clearing and
collapsed, gasping for breath. The whispers were finally gone,
replaced by an eerie silence once more.
I looked around, realizing I had no idea where I was.
My GPS was useless, showing only static.
Exhausted and absolutely terrified to my core, I set up a
makeshift camp and waited for dawn.
When morning finally came, I found my way back to a familiar
trail. The experience had shaken me so
much that I didn't really think I was thinking straight until I
finally found civilization. The oppressive feeling gradually
lifted as I neared the park's edge.
Back in the safety of my home, I tried to make sense of what had
happened. The diary, the child, the
whispers all pointed to something beyond my
understanding. I reported my experience to the
Park Rangers, who dismissed it as stress and an overactive
imagination. But I know what I saw, and I
know how I felt. There is something strange in
Yosemite National Park, something that watches,
something that waits. The missing people, the
unexplained disappearances. They're not just accidents.
There's a presence in those woods, something ancient and
evil. So if you ever find yourself in
Yosemite, be very wary of the shadows.
They're not just the absence of light.
There's something more that might swallow you.
In 2004, my family and I packed up our lives in California and
moved to a small town in Mexico. My parents said it was for
personal reasons, but to me it felt like leaving everything I
knew behind. Our new home was in a town where
my parents grew up, a place that felt like a different world to
me. The house was old and
unfinished, with a second floor that was just a skeleton of what
it was supposed to be. We all squeezed into the ground
floor, which had a living room with a big plastic skylight over
the stairs leading up to the second floor.
My parents were busy trying to settle in, and I was trying to
figure out how to fit into this new life.
At first I was pretty lonely, but soon I started hanging out
with my cousins who live nearby. They were around my age and we
quickly became close. We began having sleepovers,
which made things a lot more fun.
Our favorite spot was the living room, right under that big
skylight. We'd spread out blankets and
sleep next to each other, telling stories and playing
games until we fell asleep. One morning, after a few
sleepovers at my place, my cousin Javier brought up
something weird. Hey, do you ever hear strange
noises at night? He asked me while we were eating
breakfast. I looked at him, not really
understanding what he meant. What kind of noises?
I asked, curious but also a bit skeptical.
Like tapping sounds on the roof, but not like birds.
It's different. He said, his face serious.
I shrugged it off. It's probably just birds, they
land on the skylight all the time, you can see their feet
during the day. I replied, trying to keep things
light. Javier shook his head.
No, I've seen the birds. This is different.
It sounds like tiny footsteps, like someone running.
I laughed, trying to scare him a bit.
Maybe it's a little ghost? I shouted, and Javier burst out
laughing too. But deep down I was a bit
uneasy. We had been living in the house
for a few months and I hadn't noticed anything strange.
I didn't believe in ghosts or anything paranormal, but his
serious expression made me wonder if there was something
more to it. A few nights later, curiosity
got the better of us. We decided to check it out.
We grabbed a ladder from the shed and climbed up to the roof.
The town's dirt roads meant that a layer of dust covered
everything, including our roof. When we got up there, I couldn't
believe what I saw. There were tiny footprints in
the dirt, smaller than my pinky finger.
They circled around the skylight like something had been walking
in circles. See, I told you.
Javier whispered, his eyes wide with excitement and fear.
There's no way I made these. We've been inside the whole
time. I put my hand next to one of the
footprints, feeling a chill run down my spine.
They were definitely not ours, and they didn't look like any
animal prints I'd ever seen. The thought of something or
someone running around on our roof at night freaked me out.
We climbed down quickly, my mind racing with questions.
That night, I told my mom about what we found.
She didn't believe us, of course.
It's probably just some kids playing a prank, she said,
waving it off. There's no such thing as ghosts.
I wanted to prove it to her, but without a camera or any way to
document the footprints, I felt stuck.
We had no way of capturing what we saw.
All I could do was lie awake at night, listening for those tiny
footsteps and wondering what was really out there, just beyond
the skylight. The next day, I couldn't stop
thinking about those tiny footprints.
Javier and I talked about it constantly, trying to figure out
what could have made them. We knew it wasn't us, and it
definitely wasn't birds, but what else could it be?
Javier was convinced it was something supernatural.
He wouldn't stop talking about ghosts and other creepy things
he'd heard about from our grandparents.
One evening, we decided we had to investigate further.
We waited until nightfall, hoping to catch whatever it was
in the act. We set up our blankets in the
living room like usual, but this time we stayed awake, listening.
Every Creek of the house, every rustle outside made my heart
race. Around midnight, we heard it,
the faintest sound of tiny footsteps tapping above us.
There it is. Javier whispered, eyes wide with
excitement. Did you hear that?
I nodded, feeling a mix of fear and curiosity.
We grabbed the flashlight and the ladder and quietly made our
way outside. Climbing up to the roof in the
dark was a lot scarier than doing it during the day.
My hands were shaking as I gripped the ladder, but I was
determined to find out what was making those noises.
When we got up to the roof, the tiny footprints were there
again, circling the skylight just like before.
This time we followed them as far as we could, but they seem
to just disappear off the edge of the roof.
It was like whatever was making them had simply vanished into
thin air. How can this be happening?
I whispered, more to myself than to Javier.
It's like something out of a horror movie.
Javier nodded, looking around nervously.
We have to find a way to prove this.
Maybe we can set up a trap or something.
We spent the next few days planning.
We didn't have much to work with, no cameras or fancy
equipment, but we were determined.
We borrowed an old tape recorder from my dad's study, hoping to
catch the sound of the footsteps.
We also spread flower around the skylight, hoping it would help
us see the footprints more clearly.
The first few nights, nothing happened.
We stayed up late listening and watching.
But the tiny footsteps didn't come back.
Just when we were starting to think it was over, we heard them
again. This time, the tape recorder
picked up the faint rhythmic tapping, and the flower showed
clear, tiny footprints circling the skylight.
We couldn't believe it. We had proof, but now what?
We showed the tape and the flower prints to my mom, but she
still didn't believe us. You boys are just imagining
things, she said, shaking her head.
There's a logical explanation for all of this.
Frustrated, we didn't know what else to do.
We tried to think of other ways to catch whatever it was, but
our options were limited. As weeks passed, the footsteps
became less frequent and eventually they stopped all
together. It was almost like whatever had
been visiting us had decided to move on.
Years later, after we moved back to the United States, I came
across stories about the duende, tiny mythical creatures known
for their mischief. I couldn't help but think about
those tiny footprints and the eerie footsteps on the roof.
Could it have been a duende? It seemed crazy, but after
everything we'd seen and heard, it was the only explanation that
made any sense. Even now, I sometimes lie awake
at night remembering those strange sounds and the tiny
footprints in the dust. I still don't have all the
answers, but I know one thing for sure.
Those nights in Mexico were something I'll never forget.
My name is Ryan, and I'm going to tell you about some strange
things that have happened to me and my friends, things that are
hard to explain and even harder to believe.
Our story begins in southern Ohio, right at the edge of Perry
State Forest, where I've lived my whole life.
My house, along with my grandpa's, my aunt and uncles,
and a few other relatives all sit on a large hill overlooking
the forest. Living so close to the woods,
you'd think we'd be used to the sounds and sights of nature.
But Perry State Forest isn't like other forests.
It's Wilder, almost like it has a life of its own.
My aunt and uncle have a farm right here with goats and free
roaming chickens. It was pretty normal for us to
wake up and find that a chicken or two had gone missing
overnight. We all thought it was just the
coyotes sneaking around, but that changed when we found
something startling on our trail cams. 1 morning my uncle called
us over in a rush, excitement and worry mixed in his voice.
On the Cam, clear as day, was a Mountain Lion creeping through
the underbrush. The thing is, mountain lions
aren't supposed to be in Ohio. But there it was, a ghostly
figure moving through our wild woods, and it looked like it had
made itself right at home. Night time around here was
always a bit creepy. We'd hear things like knocks on
the walls, soft whispers that seemed to float on the wind, and
sometimes the distant beat of drums as Halloween approached.
Most of the time we could laugh it off, chalk it up to the wind
or just our imaginations running wild.
But when I was eight years old, something happened that I
couldn't just shrug away. It was late, way past my
bedtime, when I fell asleep on the couch in our living room.
The TV was still on, casting a flickering light across the
room. I woke up around 3:00 AM to a
strange buzzing sound. The TV was just static.
Groggily, I turned to look out the window next to the TV, and
my heart nearly stopped. There, standing just on the
other side of the glass, was a tall figure in a brown cloak
made of what looked like deer skins.
It wore a deer skull over its face, and the hollow eyes seemed
to stare right into me. Beside it stood a little girl
with braided hair, wearing a plain dress.
They just stood there, looking in at me.
The figure raised its hand slowly, waving in a way that
seemed to say come outside, it's OK.
I was frozen with fear. After what felt like hours, they
finally moved out of sight. I didn't dare follow them.
Instead, I cried out loud, the sound of my own voice snapping
me back to reality. I ran to my room and didn't come
out until the sun was up. The next morning, I told my mom
about what I'd seen. She tried to calm me down by
saying it was probably just a friendly Indian chief who was
visiting. I wanted to believe her.
It wasn't until years later that she sat me down and told me the
truth. That figure wasn't friendly at
all. According to her.
It was the spirit of an Edina chief who used to take children
from their homes long ago. She said he was evil, a word she
never used lightly. Whatever that thing is, it's
evil, she had said firmly. Don't ever go out into the woods
alone at night. Stay away from the deep parts of
the forest. Of course, being a kid, her
warning only made the forest seem more mysterious, and
eventually, curiosity would get the better of me and my friends.
But that's a story for another time.
It was a Friday night like any other, except Nick, Jeremy, and
I were bored out of our minds. We just finished a marathon of
horror movies and the adrenaline was still pumping through our
veins. That's when the idea hit us.
Why not head into Perry State Forest for a real thrill?
I mean, after all the stories in my own eerie experiences, it
seemed like the perfect place to test our courage.
We're doing this? Nick declared, his eyes wide
with a mix of excitement and nerves.
Jeremy, always the skeptic, shrugged but agreed.
Let's just see if this forest is as spooky as Ryan always says.
With a plan set, we grabbed some flashlights, piled into my dad's
old BMW and drove off. It was around 2:30 AM when we
turned off the main road and entered the forest.
The moment we crossed the threshold, it felt like we hit a
wall of something. It wasn't physical, but the air
turned heavy and a weird pressure settled on our chests.
Dude, do you feel that? Jeremy gasped, rubbing his eyes.
Yeah, it's like I'm suddenly carrying a ton of bricks.
Nick replied, his usual grin replaced by a frown.
The headlights sliced through the darkness, but they only lit
up a small patch of ground ahead of us, which was odd because
those LED lights were super bright.
I tried to keep my focus on the road, but my mind kept drifting
back to my mom's warning about the forest.
We drove in silence for a while, each of us lost in our thoughts,
in the oppressive feel of the forest.
That's when we saw it, A large black figure standing just off
the side of the road. It was darker than the shadows
around it, and as we passed, it vanished into thin air.
Did you guys see that? I blurted out, my voice shaky.
Yeah, no kidding. What was that?
Jeremy replied, his skepticism fading.
The forest seemed to close in around us as we drove.
The darkness was suffocating, and even though we were on a
straight Rd. something felt off. Then Nick, who had been quiet
for a bit, spoke up, sounding panicked.
Guys, the sky, look at the sky. We looked up through the
windshield and the sky was a deep blood red.
It was so out of place, so bizarre, especially since it was
only a little past 2:30 AM. We should turn back, I
suggested, a knot of fear growing in my stomach.
But before anyone could agree, Nick yelled out.
No, no, no, we just saw that tree.
I just saw that tree. Are we going in circles?
I shook my head. That's impossible.
It's a straight shot through here.
But no matter how far we drove, the same landmarks kept
appearing over and over. It was like we were stuck on a
loop. But there were no turns, no
deviations from the path. Dang, this feels like some Blair
Witch stuff. Jeremy muttered, trying to
lighten the mood, but his voice was edged with real fear.
As we continued, the sightings grew more frequent.
Dark figures watched us from the trees, and deer with hollow,
empty eyes stood by the road, swaying unnaturally.
Every once in a while, one would jump towards the car, only to
vanish before impact. This isn't right, this isn't
real, Jeremy said, finally breaking.
We need to turn around, Ryan. We can't keep doing this.
He was right. We were way over our heads.
I turned the car around, intent on finding the way out, but
that's when the real horror began.
The whispers started sounding like they were coming from
inside the car, and the air filled with screams and cries.
We were trapped, and whatever was in that forest wasn't just a
figment of our imagination, it was real, and it was terrifying.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they
did. The car suddenly died.
It's light snuffed out like candles in a breeze, plunging us
Into Darkness so thick it felt like a blindfold.
Nick and Jeremy shouted in panic, their voices shrill in
the close confines of the car. My heart pounded against my
chest as I fumble with the ignition, trying to bring the
car and it's comforting dash of light back to life.
It's not starting. I yelled, my voice sounding
strange and distant in the enveloping darkness.
Suddenly, a loud sound pierced the silence.
It was a train horn, long and mournful, echoing through the
trees. But that was impossible.
There were no train tracks anywhere near Perry State
Forest. The sound grew louder, the
ground vibrating under the tires, as if the phantom train
was barreling down on us. Is this actually happening?
Jeremy whispered, terror evident in his voice.
I didn't answer. My focus was on restarting the
car, my hands shaking as I turned the keys.
Just as the sound reached a deafening crescendo, as if the
train was passing right through us, the car lights flickered
back on and the engine roared to life.
Without wasting a second, I slammed the gas pedal, the car
lurching forward as if just as eager to escape the nightmare.
We drove in silence, the earlier bravado and excitement now
replaced by a sobering fear. The forest around us seem to
watch, its shadows deep and menacing.
But no matter how fast I drove, the same eerie landmarks greeted
us over and over again. It was as if the forest refused
to let us leave, its grip tightening the more we tried to
escape. I saw those headlights, too.
Nick suddenly said, breaking the heavy silence.
There was a car coming right at us, wasn't there?
Yes. Jeremy and I responded in
unison, the memory of the disappearing vehicle fresh in
our minds. But then, as suddenly as our
ordeal had begun, it ended. The forest cleared without
warning, and we found ourselves on New Reservoir Rd. the
familiar lights of the city twinkling in the distance.
The clock on the dashboard read 3:00 AM, as if no time had
passed at all. Did we just teleport?
Nick asked, his voice a mixture of relief and confusion.
None of us had an answer. We drove to the nearest Taco
Bell, the need for normalcy driving us to seek out the most
mundane thing we could think of. As we sat in the parking lot,
eating and recounting our experiences, we realized that
each of us had seen and felt the same horrors.
It wasn't a group hallucination. It was real, as real as the
tacos we were mechanically eating.
After that night, we promised each other we'd never go back to
Perry State Forest. But as fate would have it, that
promise didn't last. Maybe it was the pull of the
unknown, or maybe we just needed to prove to ourselves that we
weren't crazy. Whatever the reason, years later
we found ourselves planning a camping trip to the very place
we had vowed to avoid. As I write this, the camping
trip is just a week away. I don't know what awaits us in
Perry State Forest this time, but I feel a strange sense of
inevitability, as if some things are just meant to be faced
again, and maybe this time we'll find the answers we're looking
for. Or maybe the forest will reveal
more questions. Either way, I know one thing for
sure, Perry State Forest hasn't finished with us yet.
I was camping in the woods with some friends when we encountered
something that still gives me chills.
It was late at night and we were huddled around the campfire
telling ghost stories and roasting marshmallows as you
would. Then out of nowhere, we heard a
strange noise coming from the trees.
It sounded like a low growl at first, unlike any animal noise I
was familiar with. We shrugged it off and continued
with our night, but the sound grew louder and more frequent as
the night continued. I am not a wildlife expert, so I
tried not to freak out, but finally, at one point we heard
something moving in the bushes nearby.
We shone our flashlights toward the noise, but couldn't see
anything at all. It was too dark and too dense
with trees and brush. As the night progressed, the
noises grew more intense. We could hear something moving
around our campsite, but couldn't see anything in the
darkness. There was something there.
It was watching us, stalking us from the shadows.
A feeling I just can't describe. Eventually we decided to pack up
and leave, and as we were gathering our stuff we heard
some sort of blood curdling scream coming from the trails.
It was a sound that made our hearts stop in terror and I
instantly got cold sweats again. We could feel something watching
us, waiting for us to make a move.
It was such an intense feeling we ran back to our car as fast
as we could. We could hear something
following us just a few feet behind the creature.
The thing, the person, whatever it was, was right on our heels,
breathing down our necks. We finally reached the car and
speed away with our hearts pounding.
We still don't know what kind of creature it was.
I have no idea what was lurking in those woods that night.
It's something I probably won't ever know and will likely remain
unexplainable, but it still haunts our memories and makes us
fearfully shiver. However, I'm just glad that I
survived.