I'm a 20 year old guy from a rural part of South Carolina in
the low country. I won't give an exact location
for obvious reasons, but I will tell you my whole family is from
here. Currently I live in a small town
not too far from where I'm from. To sum it up, my uncle, cousins,
and aunts still live back at home while my mom, siblings,
stepdad, and I live in this nearby small town.
I grew up mostly fishing while my other family members mostly
haunted. I'm writing this story on May
10th, 2024 and it's been about six months since this creepy
encounter happened. I've had a couple of
experiences. The first one wasn't so bad, but
the second was very scary and that's the one I want to share.
I've always heard about sleep paralysis but never really
believed in it. I believe in spirits and ghosts,
but for some reason never anything like sleep paralysis.
When I heard that people could wake up unable to move and often
see figures, I didn't pay it much mind thinking they were
just vivid nightmares. But then it happened to me one
night about 6 to 8 months ago. I was in my bed falling asleep
because I had to work the next day.
Quick note, my brother and I share a room in our family's
house. Everything was off in the room
when I suddenly woke up later to a loud ringing sound in my ears.
I thought it was my alarm or something so I opened my eyes
and tried to check my phone but couldn't move at all.
I started to freak out, I couldn't even talk, I could only
look around. I looked at my brother as he
slept, wondering how he couldn't hear the ringing.
At this point I felt paralyzed, but somehow I managed to move
the tip of my finger and snap out of it.
I wanted to scream and yell, but I was too shocked by the
experience. I did tell my sister about it
and she knew immediately what it was.
I didn't want to wake anyone up so I just went back to bed.
Fast forward a couple of months later, it was hunting season in
South Carolina. For those who don't know, in our
game zone, hunting season with a rifle starts August 15th and
ends January 1st. It was around November, I'm
going to assume, and my cousin and I were going hunting on my
uncle's land where I grew up. We planned to get up early
before daylight, around 5:00 AM, so we would be ready when the
deer started coming out. I'm not a great morning person,
at least not that early. Unless it's for hunting or
fishing, then I'm raring to go. So that day we got up early,
threw on our hunting clothes and grabbed our guns.
We discussed which stand we wanted to take.
There were four in total and only two of us hunting that day.
I chose to take the middle row stand because it's basically in
the middle of the hunting area. We started walking in the woods.
Soon he went off to his own stand and then I headed to mine.
It was 5:30 AM by that point and I'm sure both of us were still
tired. I made it to my stand, set my
gun on the side, and basically waited for daylight.
I got on my phone and scrolled through social media.
With my sound and brightness down.
I laid my head to the side on the deer stand, Tired, but not
tired enough to go to sleep. I closed my eyes for about a
moment when all of a sudden I heard this sound.
I had my eyes closed, but I'm telling you, I wasn't asleep.
Wasn't far from sleep, but definitely awake enough to know
what was going on. I thought nothing of it,
thinking it was my uncle's dog because sometimes he would make
his way back on the hunting trail, but it didn't sound like
a dog running through the woods. No, this sounded more human, if
you know what I mean. Maybe it's just me, but animals
tend to not make as much noise as people do carelessly walking
through the woods. I was still trying not to think
much of it until I heard what sounded like a little boy
singing. I listened closely, trying to
figure out what he was singing, but I really couldn't tell.
At this point. I didn't even want to open my
eyes because I was so freaked out hearing a little boy sing
while it was still dark in the woods.
Screw that. I would have gotten out of the
deer stand and just left, but at the moment I felt safer in it.
I heard him walk through the leaves on the ground, getting
closer to the point where he was right behind my deer stand.
Then all of a sudden he stopped. I was thinking what the heck,
there's no way this is actually happening.
A couple of minutes went by and I heard the stepping again but
this time it was coming up the deer stand steps.
The deer stand sits about 20 feet high with a built in ladder
to get inside. All I heard was this supposed
little boy coming up my ladder slowly and no longer singing.
At this point I was an inch away from a heart attack.
I thought to myself I've got a gun but if this is a ghost that
ain't going to do no good. Finally I heard him or whatever
it was get up to the last step like it was right on the other
side of me with the wall of the deer stand blocking him.
I kept my eyes closed, hoping I was in fact dreaming.
I know this might sound unreal, but I kid you not, out of
nowhere a little boy's voice came right into my ear, saying
something really fast, like he was right there beside me
whispering. Whatever he said was so quick I
couldn't understand a word of it.
I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and everything stopped.
I still stayed in the stand until the hunt was over.
Neither me nor my cousin got anything.
I did tell him about it and basically all my family except
my uncle. As for him, I knew he would just
laugh at me. But everyone else for the most
part seemed to believe my story. But they didn't take it as
seriously as I do. I can't say I really blame them.
No one knows how scary an experience really is unless it
happens to them. Now.
I still go hunting these days, not going to let something like
that scare me off forever, but it definitely shook me.
I always ask myself though, was it sleep paralysis?
I don't think I was asleep. Was I in some kind of trance or
could it have simply been a ghost?
I still wonder what it said to me.
I have no good explanation. Although I was never harmed by
either of these events, I don't wish them on anybody.
It's just creepy, man. My name's Rick, and if you're
reading this, you're probably like me, always on the hunt for
the next big adventure. I run a travel blog that's all
about diving into the unknown, the kind of places that make you
feel alive. My buddy Tyler, on the other
hand, would rather spend his weekends at home playing video
games, but somehow I managed to drag him along with me to
explore an unnamed State Park in North Georgia.
It was early spring, and the wildflowers were just starting
to peek through the leafy underbrush, painting the
landscape with dashes of color. Tyler wasn't thrilled from the
start. As we pulled into the park's
entrance, a wooden sign creaked ominously in the gentle wind,
the words DANGER UNSTABLE TERRAIN boldly warning us.
I chuckled and clapped him on the back.
Come on, man, when have we ever stuck to the beaten path?
Tyler just frowned, adjusting his heavy backpack.
The park Ranger at the entrance booth wasn't any more
reassuring. He eyed our equipment, my
camera, Tyler's oversized pack, and suggested we stick to the
marked trails. We've had some sinkholes appear
recently, he said, a stern look crossing his face.
Don't wander off. It can get pretty risky out
there. But the thrill of discovery
pulsed through my veins. I could already imagine the
stories and the photos I'd share on my blog.
Convincing Tyler, though, was another story.
Look, we'll be fine, I assured him.
I've got the GPS and we'll keep close to the trail.
Sort of. As we venture deeper into the
park, the well trodden path gave way to a thick, verdant forest
that seemed untouched. Every few steps the scenery
change dramatically, from towering oaks to dense patches
of pine. It was breathtaking, and for a
moment, even Tyler seemed caught up in the beauty of it all.
However, the further we walked, the more I felt a tug of
curiosity to see what lay beyond the next Ridge, beyond the next
cluster of trees. Ignoring the signs and Tyler's
increasing unease, I steered us off the path.
Just a quick detour, I promised him, though I wasn't sure
myself. The ground beneath our feet
became uneven, covered with a tangle of roots and loose
stones. We had to be careful with every
step, but I was too excited to worry much.
That was my mistake. Without warning, the earth
beneath me just disappeared. One second I was there, and the
next I was falling through open air.
A shout caught in my throat. I crashed down Into Darkness,
the impact knocking the wind out of me.
I lay there for a moment, stunned and gasping for air.
Above me, I could hear Tyler shouting my name, his voice
laced with panic. I tried to respond, to let him
know I was alive, but my voice was just a hoarse whisper.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the hole
I'd fallen through, I realized I was in some kind of cave, alone,
Hurt, but alive. I had no idea how I was going to
get out, or what was waiting for me in the shadows of The Cave,
but one thing was clear. I should have listened to the
warnings. The pain hit me first, sharp and
demanding as I tried to move. My left arm throb terribly, and
my head felt like it had been split open.
I lay on the cold, damp cave floor, trying to catch my
breath, every inhale like fire in my chest.
Tyler. I shouted, or at least I tried
to. My voice was barely a whisper,
echoing faintly in the vast darkness.
With shaky hands, I reached for my phone.
Thank goodness it was still in my pocket, and somehow it hadn't
broken in the fall. I turned on the flashlight, and
a narrow beam of light cut through the darkness.
The Cave was larger than I had imagined, with jagged walls and
a ceiling lost in shadow. Stalactites hung overhead like
silent watchers, and the air was thick with the musty smell of
damp earth. I was trying to stand when I
heard it, a soft shuffling sound in the darkness.
My heart skipped a beat. Who's there?
I called out, my voice stronger this time but still quivering
with fear. There was no answer, just the
sound again, closer this time. I tighten my grip on the phone,
using the light like a shield as I turned slowly around.
Then I saw it. A figure, or rather the vague
outline of something inhuman, hovering just at the edge of the
light. Don't be afraid, it whispered,
its voice a chilling caress that seemed to come from everywhere
and nowhere. What are you?
I managed to choke out. My entire body tensed for a
flight I knew was impossible. I am what remains, the voice
said. I am the forgotten, the
consumed. My mind raced.
Consumed, forgotten. What did that mean?
But I understood one thing clearly.
This entity, whatever it was, survived on whatever fell into
its domain. And right now, that included me.
We talked, if you could call it that.
The entity never moved into the full light, and I never saw its
true form. It spoke of time in a way that
made no sense of centuries past in darkness, waiting for the
occasional unfortunate soul to tumble down as I had.
Meanwhile, above, Tyler must have been going out of his mind
with worry. I wondered if he had gotten
help. Yet the thought of him alone out
there, scared and helpless, made me feel even worse.
I needed to get out, not just for myself, but for him too.
As the hours dragged on, my initial terror gave way to a
grim determination. I wasn't going to end up like
the others, the entities past meals.
I wasn't going to be forgotten down here.
I had to survive, to find a way back to Tyler, back to the
light. The creature continued to talk,
its voice a haunting melody that tried to lull me into despair.
But with every word it spoke, I felt more awake, more alive than
ever. I knew then that I had to keep
fighting, to keep hoping, even in the face of such ancient
darkness. And so I waited, clinging to the
slivers of sunlight that streamed through the hole far
above, a reminder that there was still a world outside, a world
worth returning to. I never knew how much I'd missed
the sound of birds chirping until I thought I might never
hear them again. Lying in the dark, damp cave,
listening to the eerie silence broken only by the occasional
drip of water, I realized how close I was to never seeing the
sky again. My heart pounded with a mix of
fear and hope as I clung to the thought of rescue above ground.
Tyler must have been frantic. I could almost picture him
running through the woods, tripping over roots in his
desperation to find help. He wasn't the outdoorsy type.
The fact that he was out there fighting his fears to save me
made me feel a mixture of guilt and gratitude.
The weight felt endless. My mind raced with thoughts of
my family, my blog readers, and all the unexplored places I
still wanted to see. I wasn't ready to be a story of
tragedy, just another cautionary tale.
Then, finally, the sound of voices echoed down from above.
Rick, can you hear us? It was Tyler's voice, strained
with relief and worry. Other voices joined his shouting
instructions and encouragement. The rescue team had arrived.
I yelled back, my voice hoarse. I'm here.
I'm alive. Every word felt like a victory.
The rescue was a blur of ropes, lights, and urgent voices.
The Cave filled with the glow of flashlights as rescuers work to
secure a Safeway to lift me out. I saw the creature one last time
as I was being hoisted up. It lingered in the shadows, its
form still unclear, a silent Sentinel of the deep.
Its presence was a chilling reminder of what awaited those
who ventured too far from the light.
The sunlight hit my face like a warm embrace as I emerged from
The Cave. I had never been so grateful for
fresh air. Tyler was there, his face a mask
of relief and tears. We hugged, the kind of hug that
said everything we couldn't put into words.
Sitting on the back of the ambulance, wrapped in a blanket,
I watched as the Rangers cordoned off the area around the
sinkhole. The park Ranger I had dismissed
earlier approached me, his expression serious.
You were lucky, he said. Most aren't.
His words struck a chord. I had been reckless, driven by a
thirst for adventure and stories for my blog.
I had ignored warnings and endangered not just myself, but
my best friend. The weight of my actions settled
on my shoulders, heavy and uncomfortable.
In the weeks that followed, my recovery was slow but steady.
Tyler stuck by me, never once saying I told you so, even
though he had every right to. I spent a lot of time thinking
about the creature in The Cave, the lives it had claimed and the
lives it might still claim. I returned to my blog not to
share tales of reckless adventure, but to warn others of
the dangers of ignoring signs and overstepping boundaries.
I wrote about the beauty of the wild, but also about respect and
preservation. My experience had changed me.
I had sought a story and I had found one, but not the one I
expected. It was a story of survival,
friendship and respect for the forces of nature, forces that
are as beautiful as they are dangerous, as inviting as they
are unforgiving. Every year my friends and I head
deep into the forest near our hometown for a camping trip.
But this year was different. The place felt strange as soon
as we arrived. Maybe it was because we hadn't
been there in a while, or maybe it was just us growing up and
seeing things differently. Looks like nature took over,
Maddie commented, her voice echoing slightly in the dense,
overgrown forest. Cole, Jackson, Aaron Hudson and
I exchanged glances. The two small two-story log
houses we built as kids stood somewhat proudly among the thick
underbrush, more rugged and wild than I remembered.
We used to play in those cabins, pretending they were forts or
castellated towers in some ancient land.
They were our retreat, our little piece of adventure.
Despite the nostalgia, the sight of them in such a rundown state
was a bit disheartening. Well, they're still standing.
That's something, right? Hudson said with a chuckle,
trying to lighten the mood as he dropped his heavy backpack by
the door of the nearest cabin. We spent the first few hours
clearing out some of the invading flora and making the
cabins livable. As the sunlight began to fade,
casting long shadows through the trees, a peculiar smell caught
our attention. It was faint at first, but grew
stronger, more foul, as we ventured closer to the source.
What is that smell? Aaron asked, covering his nose
with the sleeve of his shirt. We followed the scent, stepping
carefully over twisted roots and crunching dead leaves under
foot, until Mattie, who was leading the way, stopped dead in
her tracks. Her gasp was sharp, cutting
through the murmur of the forest.
What's wrong? I hurried over to her side, and
that's when I saw it. A deer carcass.
Not just any deer carcass, though.
This one was grotesque, its limbs torn off and shoved down
its throat. It was like nothing I'd ever
seen. Not just the sight, but the
whole vibe it gave off was wrong.
Oh man, that's brutal. Cole muttered as the rest of us
gathered around. Everyone was visibly shaken,
their faces pale and eyes wide. We should move it, get it away
from here. I suggested after a moment of
stunned silence. Reluctantly, we agreed, dragging
the carcass to the nearby lake to dispose of it.
The task was grim, and it left us all feeling uneasy.
By the time we got back to the camp, the sun had set and the
forest around us seemed darker than before, more menacing.
We tried to shake off the unease with food and drinks around the
campfire. The light from the fire
flickered across our faces, casting strange shadows and
making the trees around us look like they were moving.
As the night progressed, Cole began to tell us about the
Wendigo, a creature from folklore known as a mimic and
shapeshifter capable of luring people away with familiar
voices. His story was meant to scare us,
and it worked, especially considering the days earlier
events. Most of us laughed it off,
trying to hide our nervousness. But the seed of fear had already
been planted. As the fire died down and we
retreated to the cabins, I couldn't shake the feeling that
something was watching us from the darkness.
Waiting. We settled into the cabins and
tried to make the best of it. But as I lay in my sleeping bag
that night, the image of the mutilated deer and the sound of
Cole's voice recounting the Wendigo legend echoed in my
mind. Sleep, when it finally came, was
restless and filled with strange, shadowy dreams.
The sky was still a blanket of black when we decided to go for
a hike along the old trail we knew so well as kids.
Despite the familiar path, everything felt more sinister in
the dark. The events of yesterday still
hung heavily on us, but we tried to keep our spirits light,
cracking jokes and reminiscing about less eerie times.
About 15 minutes into our hike, Jackson abruptly stopped and
muttered that he needed a bathroom break.
The rest of us paused, waiting for him to disappear into the
woods. Hudson offered to go with him,
but Jackson waved him off, saying he'd catch up in a few
minutes. The air grew chillier as we
waited. We talked about school, the
latest movies, and even touched on politics.
Anything to distract from the eerie silence of the forest.
Suddenly, Jackson emerged from the trees.
Hey, I'm back, he said, but something was off.
His voice was flat, his usual cheerful spark gone.
He looked different too. Thinner.
Jackson has always been a bit stocky, so seeing him look
almost gaunt was unsettling. I chalked it up to the dim light
playing tricks on my eyes. We resumed walking, but the
atmosphere had shifted. Jackson was unusually quiet,
just staring ahead, not participating in the
conversation. Then my phone rang.
It was Jackson. Confused.
I answered. Hey man, where are you?
I think I got lost. Where are you guys?
His voice came through the speaker, sounding genuinely
confused and a little scared. I stopped dead in my tracks,
staring at the person who claimed to be Jackson.
What do you mean you're right here with us?
I said, the blood draining from my face.
I didn't even reach you yet. He replied, his voice tinged
with panic. The person in front of us turned
slowly, a smile creeping across his face.
It wasn't a friendly smile, but something malicious, something
that sent shivers down my spine. Then, without a word, he walked
back into the darkness of the trees and vanished.
We stood there, frozen, until a distant scream shattered the
silence. It sounded like it came from the
direction the impostor had gone. Without thinking, we scattered,
running blindly into the forest. I found myself running down a
narrow path, my heart pounding in my ears.
Branches scratched at my face and arms, but I didn't stop.
I couldn't. Fear propelled me forward until
I stumbled into a small clearing, illuminated only by
the moonlight. Breathing heavily, I tried to
Orient myself, but before I could take a step further, Aaron
burst into the clearing. His eyes were wide with terror.
It's chasing me. He yelled as he ran past.
Glancing back, I saw a dark, hulking shape on all fours
gaining on him. Panic surged through me and I
ran in the opposite direction. Sounds of chaos echoed through
the trees. Shouts, more screams, the
snapping of branches. I pushed myself harder, trying
to find my way back to the campsite.
It seemed like forever before the familiar glow of our dying
campfire came into view. I collapsed near the fire,
gulping down water to calm my shaking hands.
Just as I was catching my breath, my phone buzzed.
It was a group call from Cole. Is everyone OK?
He asked, his voice strained. One by one, we checked in, all
except Hudson and Aaron. Their silence was the most
terrifying response of all. The morning light felt harsh as
it broke through the trees, illuminating the campsite that
now looked more like a battleground than a retreat.
My eyes were heavy from a night with hardly any sleep, filled
with nightmares that continued even when I was awake.
We gathered around the campfire, its embers barely glowing, each
of us looking as battered and shaken as the other.
Hudson was the last to arrive, limping slightly with a deep cut
on his arm. He looked worse for wear, his
eyes darting around as if expecting the creature to leap
out at any moment. Aaron wasn't with him and my
heart sank. Aaron tripped and it it went
after her. Hudson choked out, his voice
breaking. The relief of seeing each other
alive was dampened by the worry for Aaron and the lingering fear
of what still might be lurking in the shadows.
We shared our stories in hushed tones, piercing together the
events of the night. Jackson spoke of his own
terrifying encounter after the impostor had led him astray.
Maddie and Cole recounted hearing distant screams and the
unnerving feeling of being watched.
As we spoke, our phones vibrated with a message from Erin.
She was OK, just shaken and hiding until daylight.
She'd make her way back to us soon.
The tension ease slightly, but the air remained thick with
unease. We decided not to wait any
longer. In these woods, packing up felt
like the longest task, every rustle in the underbrush making
us jump. As we hurriedly stuffed our
belongings into our backpacks, the reality of what had happened
began to truly sink in. We were leaving, but the
memories of what we'd experienced would linger far
longer. The walk back to civilization
was quiet. Words seemed unnecessary,
inadequate after what we'd faced.
When we reached our cars, parked at the trailhead, we agreed to
call the police and report what had happened.
I dialed the number, my hands still trembling.
The voice on the other end promised to send a team to
investigate, but as I hung up, I wondered if they'd find
anything. Would they believe us?
Did it even matter? We drove away in a convoy, the
forest receding behind us. The further we got, the more the
forest seemed like a distant nightmare, a story from someone
else's life. Yet the glances we exchanged
told me that none of us would forget, nor would we be the
same. The following days were a blur
of phone calls and restless nights.
Hudson's wound was treated, and thankfully it wasn't serious.
We kept in touch daily, needing the reassurance that came from
knowing the others were still there, still OK, or at least as
OK as we could be. It's been 2 years since that
trip, and we haven't gone back to the woods.
We still meet up, though our gatherings are now in places
where the lights are bright and the night is less threatening.
We talk about going back, sometimes half in jest, half in
a dare, but some unspoken agreement always stops us.
We know some places, like some memories, are better left
undisturbed. The woods are off limits now, a
chapter closed in our lives. But the bonds we formed there,
under the strangest and most terrifying circumstances, those
will last a lifetime. The evening breeze was cooler
than usual as it rustled through the sparse, scrappy patches of
forest bordering our backyard. I could still smell the faint
scent of newly turned earth mixed with the residual wildness
from the forest, a reminder that only a few years ago, this place
was farmland. That summer, at 8 years old, I
felt both a pang of adventure and the pinch of solitude as my
older brother decided he'd outgrown backyard camping.
I dragged the family's old four person tent from the garage by
myself, the fabric musty but familiar.
The tent was a relic from countless family trips, it's
canvas speckled with patches of mud and pine resin.
Setting it up became a ritual I knew by heart.
Unfolding the canvas, connecting the rods with a satisfying click
and securing the stakes, the tent was squeezed into the
small, flat clearing we had a stone's throw from the dark
silhouette of the house. The sun was setting, casting
long shadows that crept across the yard like curious fingers.
My brother stayed inside, glued to whatever new video game had
captured his attention. The blue glow from the TV
flickering against the living room window.
I felt a twinge of rejection, quickly swallowed by a surge of
defiant independence. With the tent up, I grabbed my
essentials. A flashlight, a pack of slightly
squashed sandwiches, and a bag of crisps.
My inflatable mattress filled the floor of the tent, and I
spread a thin blanket over it. The summer had been particularly
hot, and the thought of a sleeping bag made me itch with
anticipated discomfort. I settled down as the first
stars began to wink in the twilight sky, my little Dome of
nylon feeling more like a spaceship than a tent.
I was the captain, ready to steer through the night alone.
My parents had left the back door unlocked, a silent
acknowledgement of their trust in the safety of our small
community and perhaps in my growing independence.
But as I drifted off to sleep, the comforting familiarity of
the day melted away. Night in the country isn't
silent. It's a Symphony of whispers,
rustles, and distant calls. Yet something else cut through
those usual sounds. An irregular, heavy patter.
Footsteps. They were too deliberate, too
heavy to belong to any animal I knew.
I froze, the childish fantasies of adventure curdling into real
fear. The footsteps circled the tent,
each thud like a drum beat against my pulse.
My mind raced. Was it my brother trying to
scare me? But no, he'd never ventured out
alone at night either. Maybe Dad checking on me.
I clung to that hope, but the unsettling thought lingered.
They both knew better than to frighten me like this.
Dad. My voice was a shaky whisper,
swallowed by the vast darkness. Silence answered first, then a
low, guttural growl vibrated through the thin tent walls.
It was unlike any sound our dog made, or any animal I'd heard
before. A cold sweat broke out across my
forehead as I grabbed my teddy bear, pressing it to my chest
like a shield. The growl morphed into something
between a groan and a snarl, sending chills down my spine.
I was no longer an adventurer, I was prey, trapped in a flimsy
shell of fabric and poles. As I lay there, paralyzed by
fear, the creature, or whatever it was, continued its ominous
patrol around my makeshift fortress.
Each minute stretched into an eternity, the night air thick
with my silent terror and the unknown menace lurking just
beyond the thin walls of my childhood sanctuary.
The moon was a thin Crescent, barely shedding light over the
small clearing where my tent stood.
It's pale glow was insufficient against the dense darkness that
the night draped over everything inside the tent.
The thin fabric seemed to amplify every sound, making the
night feel even more alive and more menacing.
My heart hammered in my chest as the creature's presence
intensified. Rocks began pelting the tent
with soft thuds, jolting me further into terror.
The quiet of the night had turned hostile, each strike a
declaration of danger. I burrowed deeper under my
blanket, the familiar feel of the teddy bear pressed against
my chest, failing to comfort me. The silence that followed was
suffocating. It seemed as if the night itself
was holding its breath. The suspense was unbearable.
Then, just as sudden as the quiet came, it was broken by a
sound that curdled my blood. A laugh, low and cruel, unlike
anything human. It echoed around the tent,
bouncing off the trees and filling the space with dread.
I gathered every ounce of courage I had left.
I couldn't just lie there, waiting for whatever was outside
to come in. Clutching the flashlight like a
lifeline, I flicked it on the beam.
Cutting through the darkness like a sword.
I aimed it toward the zipper just as it began to jiggle.
Go away. I yelled, my voice quivering.
But the zipper continued its dance, slowly revealing the
night outside. Heart pounding, I braced myself
against the back of the tent, pushing as far from the opening
as I could. As the zipper reached its
zenith, the laughter stopped abruptly.
There, framed in the doorway, was a face so grotesque it was
almost unreal. Eyes, deep black and endless,
stared back at me. The skin was pale, almost
translucent, stretched taut over sharp cheekbones.
It was a visage of nightmares. Its mouth twisted in a silent
snarl. Adrenaline surged through my
veins and with a scream that tore from my throat raw, I shone
the flashlights straight into those dark pit like eyes.
The creature recoiled as if struck its arm, the one that was
poised to pull the tent further open jerking back the rocket had
been holding dropped with a dull thud.
For a moment we were both frozen, caught in the standoff.
Then the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps from the house
broke the night. My dad, alerted by my scream,
was coming. The creature gave one last look,
a mix of curiosity and malice, before it turned and disappeared
into the darkness as swiftly as it had appeared.
I collapsed back, gasping for breath, the flashlights beam now
just a shaky spot on the tent fabric.
The aftermath was a blur of motion and comforting words.
My dad's arms were around me in seconds, lifting me out of the
tent and away from the nightmare.
Back in the house, the lights seemed too bright, the safety
too thin, but I was alive, shaken, and unable to Unsee what
I had seen. Morning light brought no relief.
The rocks lay scattered around the tent, a silent testament to
the night's terror. My dad, trying to rationalize,
suggested a possum or a stray animal, but the memory of those
endless black eyes haunted me. It was no animal I knew, nor any
creature I could name until years later when my brother
would finally admit he too had seen it.
We never camped out again after that night.
The woods held secrets dark and deep, and some were better left
undisturbed. It was just another one of those
nights, really. Living in a buzzing city, you'd
think I'd sleep soundly with all the constant hum of life
outside. But no, not me.
I was the kid who craved ghost stories, who lingered on forums
about the unexplained, and who jumped at the chance to watch
every horror flick that hit the theaters.
So yeah, my nights were different, filled with a weird
mix of dread and anticipation. I remember that night clearly.
I was about 15, maybe 16, caught between feeling invincible and
being scared of my own shadow. It was around 2:00 AM when
nature called. I slipped out of bed, still half
asleep, shuffling towards the bathroom.
Our apartment was not large, but at night every hallway seemed to
stretch on forever. After I finished up in the
bathroom, I stood at the doorway.
I had this bizarre habit, don't ask me why, of looking down the
hallway into our living room every night.
Maybe I was hoping to scare myself, or maybe I was just a
glutton for punishment. The darkness of the living room
was like a canvas for my overactive imagination.
But that night, as I peered into the shadows, my heart froze.
Two bright, shiny eyes stared back at me.
They weren't like any animals or humans eyes.
They glowed with a strange, almost metallic light.
The figure was perched on our old couch, its body curled into
a fetal position, but its head was turned unnaturally towards
me. It looked wrong, twisted.
I should have screamed or run, but I didn't.
I was rooted to the spot. My breath caught in my throat.
The eyes didn't blink, they didn't move.
They just watched me. And I watched back, my mind
racing but my body unnervingly still.
The kitchen light left on by Mom, who always forgot to turn
it off, cast a faint glow that illuminated the creature just
enough for me to see its pale, hairless skin.
It was eerie, like something out of a nightmare.
Yet there it was in my living room.
It looked like it could be tall, maybe over six feet if it stood
up. I noted it's skinny, almost
fragile frame and shuddered. What was it?
Why was it here? My mind spun with questions, but
my legs finally decided to cooperate.
I backed away slowly, not taking my eyes off those glowing orbs
until I had to turn my back to slip into my room.
I closed the door softly, half expecting the creature to pounce
at any moment. Lying in bed, I stared at the
ceiling, wide awake now. Was I scared?
Strangely? No.
Shocked, definitely. I tried to rationalize what I
had seen. Was it a burglar?
A very strange, very naked burglar with shiny eyes?
That didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.
I didn't sleep that night. Instead, I lay there thinking
about my family sleeping in the next rooms, about the locked
doors and windows, and about the things sitting in our living
room. What did it want?
Why me? Morning light eventually crept
through my curtains, offering some relief.
As quietly as I could, I crept back into the living room.
It was empty. No sign of the visitor from the
night before. Had it been real?
I touched the couch, half expecting it to be cold from an
unearthly presence. But it was just a couch,
ordinary as ever. Whatever I had seen, it was gone
now, but the memory of those haunting shiny eyes lingered.
I knew things might never be the same again.
The 1st rays of morning lights seemed harsh, almost intrusive
as they filtered through my window.
I had spent most of the night staring at my ceiling, replaying
over and over the bizarre and terrifying glimpse of whatever
that thing was. With the sun up.
It felt like whatever had happened could be dismissed as a
trick of the shadows, or maybe a dream.
But deep down I knew it wasn't. I dragged myself out of bed, my
body heavy with exhaustion. The first thing I did was tiptoe
to the living room, half expecting to see that creature
still there, curled up and watching.
But there was nothing. The couch was empty.
The room looked just like it always did.
Bathed in the comforting light of day, the normalcy of the
morning felt surreal. Mom was already in the kitchen,
humming to herself as she made breakfast.
Dad was at the table, buried in his newspaper.
Neither of them seemed any different, oblivious to the fact
that something extraordinary and terrifying had invaded our home
last night. Morning.
I muttered, trying to sound normal.
Good morning, sleepyhead, Mom replied cheerfully.
Did you stay up late reading again?
Something like that, I said, grabbing a bowl and pouring
myself some cereal. The day dragged on.
I went through the motions at school, my mind constantly
wandering back to those haunting eyes.
I tried telling a couple of friends about what I saw, but
they laughed it off, suggesting it was just a bad dream or that
I'd watch too many horror movies.
Maybe they were right, but I couldn't shake the feeling of
what I'd seen. After school, I headed straight
to the library. I figured if there was any truth
to what I saw, there might be records or similar stories.
I dove into local history books, folklore, and even online
forums, searching for anything that sounded like the creature
in our living room. I found stories of shadow
people, urban legends of creatures that visit you at
night, but nothing matched perfectly with what I saw.
My search did uncover a few posts from people in nearby
areas who talked about eerie encounters with inexplicable
entities, but again, nothing concrete.
That night as I lay in bed, the house felt different.
The normal night sounds of creaking and settling seemed
ominous. I decided to keep a flashlight
in my old camera next to my bed, just in case.
Maybe I could catch a photo or just feel a bit safer.
Reflecting on my fear, I realized that my lifelong
curiosity about the paranormal had never been truly tested.
Now that it had, I wasn't sure how I felt.
I was scared, yes, but also incredibly curious.
What was that thing? Why did it come here?
Sleep was slow to come as I pondered these questions, and I
realized that my fascination had shifted.
It wasn't about thrill seeking anymore.
I needed answers. I needed to know if what I saw
was real, and if so, why it came to visit me.
Was it just passing through or was it something more?
I decided then that I wouldn't just wait for it to come back.
I would look for it cautiously. But I needed to know.
And as I finally drifted off to sleep, a part of me couldn't
help but feel a strange excitement alongside the fear.
Whatever was going to happen, I was going to face it head on.
I've always thought of myself as part of the woods on my dad's
property in rural West Virginia, with its steep cliffs, deep
caves and thick forests. I grew up exploring every inch
of it, or so I believed. But a few years back, I
discovered that some secrets are hidden, even in the places we
think we know best. It started subtly enough, almost
innocuously. Nightly sounds that didn't fit
the usual chorus of wildlife began to intrude into the
familiar. The first few times I brushed
them off as the wind, or maybe a coyote with a strange howl.
But as the days passed, these sounds grew stranger, more
unsettling, a mix of cries and howls that didn't belong to any
animal I knew. At first light I'd head out with
my rifle, expecting the normalcy of my routine hunts to quell my
unease. Yet the forest seemed to tighten
around me, as if keeping a secret.
Then I started finding them. The carcasses.
Deer mostly, and some rabbits, all torn up in a way that made
little sense. Half eaten, mutilated, left to
rot under the cover of the brush.
It wasn't like any predator I knew.
Predators kill to eat, to survive.
This was different, gruesome and wasteful.
I remember the chill that ran through me the day I found the
first deer. It was as if whatever had done
this was playing a sick game. I could handle the sight of
blood and death, I had to as a hunter, but this was different.
It felt wrong. I told myself it was just
another predator, maybe a sick bear marking its territory in a
new, violent way. But deep down I knew these
weren't ordinary animal behaviors.
The forest felt different, like eyes were watching, following my
every move. I tried shaking the feeling off,
blaming it on my imagination. That was until the evening that
changed everything. I was up in my tree stand that
evening, the sun dipping low, casting long shadows through the
undergrowth. It was the perfect time to catch
deer wandering through. My eyes scanned the foliage,
searching for any sign of movement.
That's when I saw it, something pale flickering between the
trees. At first glance I thought it
might be another hunter, maybe a poacher, but as my eyes adjusted
I realized it was no human. It moved all wrong, its limbs
too long and its movements too erratic.
It's scuttled like a spider, darting from tree to tree with
unnatural speed. My heart pounded in my chest as
I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
The creature paused, and for a moment it felt like the world
held its breath. It was vaguely man shaped, but
everything about it was distorted wrong.
And then its head turned and I swear it looked right at me with
pale, lifeless eyes. I sat there, frozen, not even
daring to breathe. The creature stared for a moment
longer, then vanished into the growing darkness.
I didn't climb down from my tree stand until the night was fully
upon me, and when I did, I moved quickly, my eyes darting to
every shadow, every rustle of leaves.
Back at home, I didn't know what to do.
I knew telling anyone would sound crazy.
Who would believe such a story? It sounded like something out of
a horror movie, not something that could happen in these
familiar woods. But I couldn't deny what I had
seen. I needed answers.
That night, under the dim light of my desk lamp, I began to
search for anything, any legend or story that matched the horror
I had witnessed. What I found was more disturbing
than I could have imagined. After that evening, the woods
were never the same for me. They had always been my escape,
a place where I felt at home. But now they held a sense of
foreboding, a whisper of something sinister lurking in
the shadows. Despite my fear, I knew I
couldn't let it go. I had to find out what that
creature was, even if part of me dreaded what I might discover.
I started by setting up trail cameras and motion sensors
around the areas where I had seen the creature and found the
mutilated animals. Each night I reviewed the
footage, hoping for a glimpse of something that would give me
answers, but expecting nothing. Days turned into weeks with no
sign of the creature. The forest seemed to mock me,
staying silent as if it had swallowed the secret hole.
But I couldn't shake the obsession.
I spent every spare moment in the woods, eyes peeled for any
anomaly, any hint of pale skin or unnatural movement.
Then it happened again. I was sitting hidden in the
underbrush, near a clearing where I had found one of the
carcasses. The air was thick with the musky
scent of damp earth, and my body tensed with every rustle of the
leaves. Suddenly, there it was, at the
edge of the clearing. The crawler.
It was crouched over something, the body of a deer, its form
grotesque and otherworldly. Its skin seemed almost
translucent in the dim light, and its limbs twitched and
jerked in unsettling ways. My breath caught in my throat as
I watched, unable to move, unable to look away.
The creature lifted its head, and its Milky white eyes seemed
to Pierce through the shadows straight into mine.
A shiver ran down my spine as it let out a high pitched whale
that echoed through the trees, a sound so chilling it seemed to
freeze the very air. My hand trembled as I raised my
rifle, the weight of it both a comfort and a curse.
But before I could steady my aim, the crawler vanished,
disappearing into the woods as quickly as it had appeared.
It moved with a horrifying grace, leaving only the rustling
of leaves and a lingering sense of dread.
I lowered my rifle, my heart pounding in my ears.
I was both relieved and disappointed.
Part of me had wanted to end it, to rid the woods of this
nightmare, but another part feared what killing it might
bring. The encounter left me shaken,
but it also sparked a realization.
This creature, as terrifying as it was, belonged to these woods.
It wasn't some supernatural being.
It was a part of the ecosystem here, as natural as the trees
and the streams. It was a predator, albeit a
strange and frightening 1. My obsession began to wane after
that. I still went to the woods, but
less often, and not with the same purpose.
I removed the cameras and stopped looking for the crawler.
It seemed pointless, chasing shadows that refused to be
caught. Nowadays I don't talk about the
crawler much. It feels like a chapter of my
life that's closed, a strange dark tale that's best left in
the past. But sometimes, when the night is
still in the forest, whispers, I think about it.
I wonder if it's still out there, moving through the trees,
a ghostly presence in the twilight.
I know what I saw was real, at least to me.
It's a part of those woods, and now a part of me.
Sometimes I even miss the thrill of the hunt, the mystery.
But mostly, I'm content to let the woods keep their secrets as
they've always done. I had a friend named Felix a few
years back. We had a sleepover together and
something happened. Our parents are great friends,
so they agreed for us to have a sleepover at his place.
However, when I told my other friends, they were a bit
skeptical as I'm a girl and Felix is a boy.
We were thirteen years old and we never had those kinds of
intentions. His parents were gone and it was
only us, his older brother and his brother's friend who were
both 17 at the time. His older brother Bastian and
Bastian's friend Lucas were told to watch us so we didn't get up
to no good. Looking back now, we definitely
weren't the reason all this happened.
Now Felix and Bastian's place was fairly big.
It was two stories tall and had a basement below that.
The place was also surrounded by woods.
The bedroom we stayed in was on the highest floor, it was
actually Bastion's room as Felix's room was in the basement
and I simply refused to sleep down there as I hated basements.
You never know what lurks in the dark.
Hey Finn, do you like Fast and Furious?
Lucas asked after we were all settled on the bed and had two
air mattresses on the floor for me and Felix.
Lucas never called me by my full first with an emotional name.
He said he thought Finn was cuter.
Yeah, I do. I answered.
Yeah. Lucas yelled.
And I don't think I ever saw someone put on a movie so fast.
One movie later, Bastian mentioned he was hungry.
He said he would order something to eat and asked what we wanted.
Can we have pizza 1/2 asleep? Felix asked as he rubbed his
eyes. Sure thing, Sleeping Beauty.
Bastian chuckled. A few minutes later he finished
his order and told us that he and Lucas would be driving to go
get the pizza. All right, you two, you know the
drill. Don't open the door to
strangers. Don't burn down the house, blah
blah blah. Lucas babbled as they walked out
of the room. Hey Finn.
Felix said next to me in a very tired voice.
Can you stay awake while I take a nap?
That basically meant can you keep guard while I sleep because
I'm scared something will happen.
Yeah, sure. I answered and soon I heard
lights snoring next to me. So I put on ATV show and
relaxed. Normally it would take around an
hour and a half for the guys to get to the pizza place and come
back all together, so I was surprised when I began to hear
knocking from the entryway door. From the room window you could
see the front door. I was just about to go
downstairs to open the door, but then realized one thing, the
boys had a key. They would not have to knock.
I then heard a voice that didn't sound quite like Lucas, but it
tried to be. Finn opened the door.
It couldn't be him. He never called me by my full
first name, not even when he was angry.
I froze and held my breath. The only things that could be
heard then were Felix's light snoring and someone outside
calling to me. Come on, it's me, it's Lucas.
I felt scared, but also mad. I was scared for obvious
reasons, but the anger was from the fact that someone was trying
to imitate a good friend of mine.
But then came a new voice, one that I didn't expect.
Sweetheart, it's us, we've come to pick you up.
My mother said. What in the world?
I thought. I heard the voice come again,
asking for me to open up the door, then the same request,
this time from the Lucas voice. Did that mean there were two
entities outside? Two people trying to break in,
imitating my loved ones voices? But the voices were eerily
similar. Were they even human?
Suddenly I heard Felix waking up.
I rushed back to him. He heard the voices then too.
I covered his mouth quickly to quiet him down.
I didn't want him to respond, he just looked at me with wide blue
eyes as if trying to ask me what the heck was going on.
I put a finger to my mouth motioning him to stay quiet and
he nodded. I removed my hand and he whisper
yelled. Who the heck is that?
Why are they trying so hard to sound like Lucas and your mom?
I replied. Don't freak out, I don't know.
Suddenly we began to hear scratching at the door.
I slowly, and I mean very slowly, got up and walked over
to the window. That's when I saw them.
Three figures at the front door. I could only see parts and
silhouettes as it was so dark, but the light being cast from
the porch light helped a bit. They were all quite tall and
each of them had arms that seemed way too long for their
bodies. I couldn't see their faces, but
they did appear to have not eaten for some time.
They just looked wrong, and they definitely weren't my mom or
Lucas or Bastion. I was so terrified then and
confused. I stood frozen there.
Felix, call your brother right now, but be quiet.
I whispered. He did as I said and I began to
cautiously retreat to the bed where we had just been happily
sitting and laughing only an hour ago.
Felix. I heard Bastion's voice answer.
He was completely unaware of what was going on at his own
home. I mean, how could he know?
I took the phone and whispered in a shaky voice.
Bastion, there's someone or something outside.
They're pretending to be Lucas and my mom.
They're trying to get in. I was on the verge of tears.
What? Finn, show me, He said.
I stood up again and went to the window.
I turned the camera and pointed it outside.
I heard him gasp. I turned back and sat next to
Felix, who was under a blanket now.
I got under it with him and began to cry quietly.
OK, listen, we're on the way home.
We'll be there in 15 minutes. Stay quiet and keep the doors
locked. After the longest 15 minutes of
my life, I heard a car pull into the driveway.
I then heard the door unlock, and when I saw Bastian and
Lucas, I was so happy. Bastian called his parents,
telling them I'd had a panic attack.
He lied, of course. We agreed it was probably best
not to tell anyone what happened.
At worst, we simply watched a scary movie and freaked
ourselves out. But I know what we experienced.
I don't think I'll ever forget those voices.
I've been seeing, hearing, and feeling things since as far back
as I can remember. The earliest memory I have of
something paranormal is my own imaginary friend.
Growing up I had my middle sister who's only two years
younger than me. But as anyone with siblings
knows, sometimes you both don't want to play outside or do what
the other one is doing. So when that happened, I would
play with my friend, a friend I called Mary.
At first my parents thought nothing of Mary, just that I had
an active imagination. Kids being kids, I would play
cops and robbers, run through the woods, even have tea parties
with Mary. To me, she was just another kid
who wanted a friend. One day in September 1998, my 7
year old self decided I wanted to build a Fort.
Mary and I built a Fort using mine and my sister's blankets
and even my mom and dad's blanket off their bed.
It was huge and I remember playing in there all day.
Even my sister joined us at one point.
Now my sister couldn't see Mary and a lot of times that fact
upset me, but Mary would always tell me she was there because
she knew I needed her. I would smile and just keep
playing not thinking much of it. One night not long after the
Fort I was lying in bed. My sister and I shared a room at
the time so my twin bed was on one side of the window while
hers was on the other. From my bed I could look into my
parents room and if their bedroom door was open I could
see into the living room just past the front door.
I remember being sleepy and closing my eyes after my dad
read us a story. I don't know how long I slept
before waking back up, I just remember waking up.
It was late and still dark out. I lay there awake when I began
to hear walking. My mom was a night shift nurse
at the time, so I first assumed she woke up to go to the
bathroom or get some water, maybe even to get ready for
work. I sat up to look when my breath
caught in my throat. Standing in my parents doorway
was a tall misty figure. It looked feminine, but I
couldn't see the face, only an outline.
I lay back down, threw my blanket over my head like any
kid, and began to cry quietly. A few days before when I built
my Fort, I had accidentally put a hole in my blanket, so I
shifted myself under my blanket so I could look at the figure
without having to uncover my head.
I saw the misty figure beginning to float towards my parents bed
where I knew my dad was sleeping It then knelt next to him.
The figure stayed there for a long time, not making any
sounds, just kind of hovering next to my dad.
When it finally stood up, the figure floated into my room,
going between mine and my sister's beds before
disappearing into the wall next to mine.
I remember crying and wanting to get up, and Mary was next to me.
She got in my bed and told me we should rest, that she would be
there for me when I needed her. I woke up the next morning
telling my dad and mom everything, even my grandma,
while my mother, who is skeptical, brushed it off.
My grandma and dad searched the house.
Then my grandma asked me to describe Mary to her.
I told her my friend was an African American girl close to
my age. Her hair was braided in two
pigtails and her clothes were kind of weird, like an old
flower sack. I said that she had a mark over
her right eye, like a scar I got when I fell off my bike.
My grandma looked at me and I swear I thought she was going to
cry. My dad looked at my grandma and
asked if she was OK. My grandma wouldn't tell me
then, but later in life she would explain to me that the
description I gave her was the same as her friend who had
gotten killed while they were playing in the woods when my
grandma was just a little girl, the figure I saw.
Nobody understood what it was until one day in late October of
the same year, my sister and I left for school, telling my dad
and my mom goodbye. My mom was heading off to work
and my dad was off for the day, so he lay back down to take a
nap after we got on the bus. But that would be the last time
I ever spoke to my dad. He passed away in his sleep that
day and when I got home from school everyone was at my house.
I didn't understand at first until I saw Mary in my room and
I asked her what happened. She told me that my dad was in a
better place, that she would stay with me until I no longer
needed her. After this experience, I would
have vivid dreams. I dreamed of people passing away
before they passed away. Two years after this, in May of
2001, I had a dream about my Papa, my dad's dad, and he
passed away shortly after. Once I turned 11 or so, I
stopped seeing Mary, but I still to this day have these dreams.
The most recent one was about my uncle and my boyfriend's mom
back in 2022. I even dreamt of losing my child
before I ever found out I was pregnant.
I'm not sure if it's just coincidence or maybe I have a
gift or curse, but sometimes the dreams I have are not pleasant
nor are they nice. Sometimes I don't want to keep
dreaming either way. I guess I feel haunted sometimes
because the shadows and figures I see in my dreams have started
to show up while I'm awake. Has anyone else ever dealt with
something like this? Honestly, I really just want
some clarification or answers. Is something wrong with me?