I'm part of a volunteer search and rescue organization, and
every year our group takes part in a late summer retreat filled
with team building and bonding exercises.
One of these exercises involves night training, which, as you
can probably imagine, involves practicing our search and rescue
skills after dark. My specific job title is SN RK9
Handler which sort of encompasses why I joined in the
1st place. I always wanted to work with
animals but never had the grades to study to be a vet.
Joining as a dog handler meant the best of both worlds.
I could do something constructive and contributive
with my spare time while playing with dogs.
I use the word play very loosely here, but you get the idea.
Anyway, we were out on night exercises when my dog, trained
to find human remains, started to alert us to a scent.
I was partnered with a more senior member of the team at the
time, but when I looked to them for some guidance, she basically
said let's just go with it. Now I'm sure a lot of you are
thinking your dog picked up the scent of human remains.
Why weren't you freaking out? Well, the answer to that is
simple. Even the most highly trained
cadaver dogs get things wrong sometimes.
In a place like Washington, where we get California's annual
rainfall on a Tuesday, damp sense can often confuse HRD or
human remain detection dogs. So when my dog started to alert,
our policy was basically just to let him do his thing.
Because the best case scenario is a false positive, and the
very worst case scenario we find some previously unearthed human
remains. Which, as horrifying as that may
be, was obviously a major part of our job.
So the senior team member and I agreed to part ways temporarily.
She'd wait on the trail while my dog and I went off to follow the
scent he'd picked up. Since we both figured it was
just a false positive, it would only be a matter of minutes
before my dog lost the scent, and then we'd be back on the
trail and on our planned route before we knew it.
But then a few minutes turned into like 10 minutes of walking
through the dark woods, and after my dog started to lead me
down a fairly steep slope, I lost my footing and took a
really nasty fall. The next thing I know my chest
is on fire, probably from the two broken ribs I just
sustained, and I could feel blood oozing from where I'd
bashed my head on a rock on the way down.
The first thing I did was press the emergency alert on my GPS,
which signals the base camp that one of the team needs
assistance. The second thing I did was start
calling out for my dog because I'd lost control of his leash
during the fall, which I think scared him so badly that he ran
off, or he just mindlessly followed the scent trail,
thinking that I was still following close behind.
Now, as you can probably figure, I was not feeling like my best
self. I was in agony, confused, and
having dropped my flashlight as well as the leash during the
fall down the slope, I couldn't see very well either.
I just lay there calling out for Brody, hoping that base camp had
someone closing in on my position so I could get to the
damn hospital already. I don't know exactly how long I
was lying there before someone showed up, but when I heard
footsteps getting closer and closer, I felt this wave of
relief washing over me. I started to call out something
like I'm here. I think I broke something,
assuming it was a fellow SNR volunteer, but the second I
heard their voice, I knew that they weren't with our group.
Like I said, we do all kinds of Ice Breakers and bonding
exercises. Every year there tends to be a
couple of new volunteers. But the voice I heard that night
didn't belong to a long term team member, and it didn't
belong to the New Girl or new guy either, as we only had two
new faces on the team that year. It was a man's voice and when
they started talking, instead of directly helping me, I swear it
sent this chill of fright running right through me.
The voice most definitely belong to a man.
And they started talking about how I was in a dry Creek bed,
one that dozens of people fall into every year.
He went on to say that at least one person dies there every year
thanks to the flash floods the place sees during the rainy
season. Someone falls, they get stuck,
and then they drown. I went from asking for help to
literally begging for it. But the guy just completely
ignored my requests and carried on giving his little speech
about how often folks go missing or lose their lives out in that
area of the woods. I remember losing my temper and
asking what the hell is wrong with you When he replied with
something like you're not in the position to talk to me like
that, I started to scream. Not wild screams of fright, but
help somebody help over and over while I tried and failed to
reach for my flashlight. I also cannot overstate how God
damn painful that was having to scream when doing so made the
burning pain in my chest feel so much worse.
And around about that time, I started to hear my dog Brody
calling out for me. He's part Australian Shepherd
and a very vocal dog. So I started to hear a series of
AO OS and trills and rolled barks, all of which tended to
mean hurry your butt up human. As soon as Brody started making
those noises, the shadowy figure stopped talking.
And then as we both started to hear the sound of Brody getting
closer and closer, I heard that guy's footsteps as he made a
hasty retreat. I think maybe a minute or two
later I started hearing more footsteps, only they were from
multiple people this time, and they came with flashlights.
I called out for help one more time and the next thing I know,
two of my fellow volunteers are walking up the Creek bed and one
shines their flashlight right on me.
My first thought was to tell them about the guy that had just
been talking to me, the one that had talked about the accidental
deaths in a way that made me think that they weren't so
accidental. I know that might sound kind of
crazy, but the way he talked about them, like those deaths
made him happy, was one of the creepiest encounters of my
entire life. So yeah, I told my two rescuers
about the stranger and one of the first things they did before
administering first aid was to make sure that he was actually
gone. One guy shown his flashlight all
around while the other started asking me, were you pushed?
And both later said that they were scared that that creepy guy
had been the cause of my injuries.
Hence, one asked if I was pushed or not and then asked if I was
sure about that. When I said no, don't get me
wrong, I was terrified that he was about to do something,
especially since I was basically incapable of getting away from
him, but he didn't cause me to slip.
He was just there to see it, or maybe hear it.
But that obviously raises the question of what the hell he was
doing out there in the 1st place.
My two team mates then kept me company until the medic showed
up with an ATV and a backboard that they could attach a
stretcher to. I was then slowly driven back to
base camp, given a quick look over, and then we headed over to
a very rural medical clinic once we figured out my ribs were
broken. Once I've been given some pain
medication and the doctors told my team leaders I was stable,
everyone breathed a sigh of relief and a bunch of my fellow
volunteers came to visit me in the morning to see how I was
doing. And that's when I finally got a
chance to tell everyone about the guy that had showed up in
the minutes after my fall, and how his warning sounded an awful
lot like thinly veiled threats. About a week later, after I'd
been discharged from the hospital, when I was safely back
at home, I got a call from that same senior team member I'd been
with before my fall. She asked how I was doing, how
my recovery was progressing and stuff like that.
And she then told me that the team leaders were discussing a
change of locations for the following year's retreat.
A couple of other team members had reported someone walking
around in the dark, someone who definitely wasn't a volunteer,
and that after talking it over, they decided that safety was
paramount and that they'd be looking at alternative
locations. In the words of one team leader,
a second run in with that creepy shadowy stranger was not
something they were willing to risk for winter break.
One year we packed up and headed to my hometown, a small island
in West Asia that is not very well known.
There I met my uncle. In fact, this is his encounter,
not mine. He'd been at sea ever since he
was about 18 and was 35 when he first told me this.
He's seen many things out there, and please keep in mind that
these are his words translated into English.
The story is told from his perspective.
Winter might be the worst time to be at sea.
Even though it is much warmer here than in other places, it
still gets quite bad, especially for first time fishermen.
But the worst part is that it was squid season and the deck
smells terrible no matter how much you clean it.
Unlike Chinese vessels, we only stay at sea for 45 days, but
that doesn't make it any better. Your position changes each time
you sign up with the fishing company, but if you're new,
you're most likely to work as a cook or just cut squid.
Regardless of all that, there was always one unsolicited rule.
If you see anything, say nothing.
That goes for anything out of the ordinary, because legend has
it there are things in the sea that love to be talked about.
Of course, when I was new I didn't know that, but I wish I
did. Beyond the deck being stinky as
usual, when you get homesick as a newbie, trying to spot land
makes you feel better somewhat. At least that was my case.
It was near sunset that day, as I recall, but it was already
very dark. The sun was completely gone and
it was a little misty. I was kind of frustrated with it
all to be honest. I just wanted to make some cash
at the start. I thought it would be easy, just
cook some food and cut some squid.
Can't be that hard. That's what I always told myself
before signing up, but there I was.
I could only sigh and turn away to keep myself from puking from
the smell. Then I heard something.
I paused for a second, not sure of what I actually heard.
It was like some kind of knocking, the kind of knock
you'd hear when someone's in a hurry.
I brushed it off as a crewman knocking on the door, even
though I knew that knocking on metal doors sounded way
different. It clearly sounded like hurried
wooden knocks. The knocks made me feel a little
scrupulous because each time I would hear 5 knocks and when it
finished I thought it would be leaving or gone, only to start
again. 5 distinct knocks, the last one always being the
strongest. I was curious at the time to see
what caused this strange noise. I feared it might be an issue
with the vessel, but I wasn't really familiar with the
mechanism and structure of it. I was careful not to get too
close to the railing, just in case.
I inched closer, trying to peek over the edge carefully.
Then I saw something in my peripheral vision.
It didn't look exactly like a fish, but it did look fishy at
the same time, if that makes sense.
It had no scales, but somehow it looked like it reflected light.
It was visible in the barely lit water, a distinct silver color,
and its body was about 8 feet long.
I thought it might have been a big fish of some sort, maybe a
shark, but I was proven wrong when I saw what was supposed to
be its head. Its head was like a Fox's, with
no fur. And its limbs, they weren't
tentacles or anything like that, they were human, like four of
them. The thing gave off a smell like
rusty iron, somehow worse than the smell of the deck itself,
and I wanted to puke again, and this time there was no holding
it back. I grabbed the iron railing as
tightly as I could and let it all out.
The heaving made the walls of my stomach burn.
I then heard a ringing in my ear.
I don't remember what happened after that, but I do remember
that the thing was gone. Next.
I looked now. I wasn't aware of the unspoken
rules of these vessels, so as soon as I saw another crewman, I
knew I had to pull him to the side and say something.
He was an old man and had plenty of years of experience out at
sea. I'll call him Ivan.
Ivan was usually the captain during the squid fishing season,
but he had recently had a head injury and could no longer do
that anymore. But he still insisted that he
accompany the vessel this season as well.
The fishing company knew him well, and out of respect, they
fulfilled his request. Hey man, I think I saw
something. I said.
He must have seen how pale I looked.
He looked even more concerned. What's up?
You look like you're going to wet your sheets tonight.
Yvonne was the kind to always joke, even in the most serious
of moments, even if his jokes weren't funny at all.
Well, I saw something in the water.
It was silvery and was huge, at least eight feet.
I told him, and he stopped laughing.
I saw Ivan's expression harden. He was no longer smiling, no
longer revealing his few missing teeth.
He looked serious. It's probably because you're
new. Young ones especially tend to
imagine things the first time. Just say your prayers and sleep
for the night. But before that, find someone
who's willing to do cooking duty instead of you.
I wasn't imagining things, Ivan. And I've already said a prayer.
I'm sure that I saw something in the water, something that wasn't
normal. I tried to defend my claims
against Ivan. I felt irritable for some
reason, my stomach was hurting and growling now that it was
empty, which made me even more annoyed.
Listen, I'm not saying you're lying, it's just you look tired
as heck. Ivan's usually friendly tone
took a more deep turn then his expression looked as if he was
scolding me. That night I didn't feel like
myself. All I could think about was that
weird silvery thing in the water.
No matter how much I tossed and turned in the bed, it didn't
work. I just kept thinking about it
over and over, and I was irritated at Ivan, A feeling of
betrayal of sorts, even though Ivan didn't really do anything
wrong. Now in that vessel, we had no
actual beds, just a couple of sheets under our bags, a sheet
over us, and an old pillow. Each room was filled with six to
eight people, and to my bad luck, most of them were on duty
that night and had come back smelling like squids, which
basically smells like urine. The feeling of unease combined
with that stench in the room made me get up from my sheets at
last and walk towards the door. Careful not to step on someone's
arms or legs by accident and wake them up.
I successfully made my way to the deck.
There I found Ivan standing by the railing of the vessel,
mumbling something that I could not hear.
I didn't get too close to him, but he did stop and he looked at
me. He continued to mumble as he did
so. I could hear it better now.
It was some sort of prayer, I think.
Ivan looked fairly tired. His eyes were red, as if he
hadn't slept for days. I checked the water myself for
the strange thing I saw earlier, as if I was eager or longing to
see it again. Are you looking for it?
Ivan stopped praying and looked at me, but his eyes were
unexplainable, as if he were looking for something behind me,
not looking at me. It felt as if I was dreaming.
Ivan's bloodshot eyes snapped me awake, then I didn't say
anything. I remember feeling a bit
embarrassed actually. I quickly ran back to the squid
smelling room. Something didn't feel right.
It was as if everyone knew something and kept me in the
dark. Hopefully it was the last days
of the squid season, so I wouldn't have to spend too much
time with Ivan on the same vessel, even during cooking duty
or any duty at all. I figured that I would no longer
talk to Ivan, at least until we got back to land, but when we
did, I was far too tired to do that.
I tried not to think about the incident for a week or so.
However, the day I needed to confront him and ask him about
that night was the day my mom shook me awake and said that old
Ivan had died of a heart attack. Now, our island isn't too big.
It doesn't have too many towns. It was only natural for people
to know each other quite well. The old man Ivan was the first
person to introduce me to the fishing vessel company, telling
me it was the best way to get started with making money.
And now he was dead before he could ever teach me much about
the sea. On occasion I think about the
thing I saw back in the sea, but that wasn't the last time I saw
it. Sometimes I still need money
here and there and I sign up for the same company and every now
and then I do see that thing in the land again.
Even if you see things that are unexplainable, it's important
that you act like you never did and continue on with your
duties. I finally then knew the spoken
rule of the vessel. If you see anything, say
nothing. Hey everyone, if you've been
following along, you know that today marks Day 14 of my Magic
Mind journey and I'm here to share all the details with you.
Let's dive into how the last two weeks have been transformative
for my mental clarity, focus, and overall well-being.
Two weeks ago, I started my day with my first shot of Magic
Mind, curious and a bit skeptical about whether a small
drink could really impact my productivity and mental state.
And folks, the changes I've noticed have genuinely surprised
me. Let's talk specifics.
Before starting Magic Mind, I often hit that midday slump.
You know when your energy just crashes and it feels almost
impossible to focus? By day 7, I noticed those slumps
were less frequent. Now, at day 14, they've almost
disappeared. It's like my energy levels have
not just stabilized, they're optimized.
One of the key players here is the time released caffeine
combined with L theanine from the high grade matcha in Magic
Mind. This isn't just about blocking
tiredness. It's about enhancing your
brain's natural capacities without the jittery side effects
of normal caffeine. And it's not just about energy.
My focus and motivation have skyrocketed.
Tasks that would typically drag on or get postponed are now done
quicker and with more enjoyment. It's like my brain has this new
kind of clarity and calmness thanks to the adaptogens and no
tropics. In this little mental
performance shot, I've been tracking my progress and here's
what stood out. Increased mental clarity,
enhanced focus, significantly reduced stress, and a
surprisingly elevated mood throughout the day.
So here's my day 14 take away. If you're thinking about giving
Magic Mind a try, I say go for it.
Whether you're dealing with distractions, stress, or just
looking for that mental edge, this could be what you need to
push through those barriers. I'm excited to see where this
goes and I'll be sharing updates at the end of each week.
If you're curious and want to join me in this 30 day
challenge, check out the link in the description or go to
magicmind.com/creepy. You have a limited time offer
you can use now that gets you up to 48% off your first
subscription or 20% off one time purchases with code CREEPY 20 at
checkout. Now back to the stories.
It was early October when Dad decided that a trip into the
wilderness might finally get us back on the same page.
Fresh air will do us both some good, he'd said.
A hopeful glint in his eye that I hadn't seen in years.
Mom had been the architect of this plan, her worry lines
deepening every time Dad and I clashed over dinner or a passing
comment that neither of us could let slide.
I packed my gear into the back of Dad's old Chevy, the truck
still holding remnants of our past trips, fishing hooks, a
stained map of the Bighorn Mountains, and a dog eared
wildlife guide that I remembered poring over as a kid.
The drive was supposed to take five hours, but with Dad it
always took longer. He liked to take the scenic
routes, claiming that the highways robbed a man of good
views and better reflections. The road snaked through rising
foothills and expansive planes that stretched out like a
canvas. Dad didn't talk much during the
drive, his eyes fixed on the road, only breaking the silence
to point out a hawk circling above, or a herd of deer that
watched us from a safe distance. I tried to appreciate the peace,
the way the golden autumn light filtered through the aspens,
turning their leaves into flames against the crisp blue sky.
But there was a tension between us, palpable and heavy, like the
clouds that rolled over the mountains ahead, promising
storms. When we finally turned off the
main road onto a gravel track that crunched under the Chevy's
tires, the scenery shifted. The trees crowded closer, their
branches arching over us like a welcome or a warning.
Dad's expression softened as he rolled down his window, letting
in the cool pine scented air. Smell that Nate, that's the
smell of no cell service and no distractions.
Just us and nature. We reached the lake just past
noon, the water a perfect mirror reflecting the rugged peaks that
surrounded us. It was breathtaking, untouched
and wild, just like the postcards that used to make me
dream of adventures. We unloaded our gear and set up
camp in a clearing, the grass soft and thick under foot, a
perfect cushion for our tent. Fishing was up first.
We grabbed our rods and headed to the lake's edge.
The calmness of the water was a stark contrast to the usual
turbulence between us. Dad showed me how to tie the
fly, his hands steady and sure. Remember, it's all in the wrist,
He instructed, his voice more patient than I'd heard in years.
We didn't talk much as we cast our lines, the silence between
us now comfortable, filled only with the rhythmic sounds of our
reels and the occasional call of a loon in the distance.
When I finally felt a strong tug, Dad was beside me in an
instant, guiding, advising, and when I reeled in a hefty
thrashing base, his laughter echoed around the lake, genuine
and joyful. We'll eat well tonight, he said,
clapping me on the back as we walk to our campsite with our
prize. We set the fish aside and got a
fire going, the crackle and pop of the flames a soundtrack to
our quiet camaraderie. As the shadows grew longer and
merged into dusk, Dad started to talk about his childhood,
stories I had heard fragments of but never fully pieced together.
There was a softness to him that evening, a nostalgia that made
him seem less like the stern father I battled daily and more
like a man who had dreams and disappointments just like anyone
else. As the first stars appeared, I
realized that maybe this trip wasn't just about fishing or
escaping Mom's worried glances. It was about understanding,
maybe forgiving. And as we sat by the fire, the
wilderness not just around us but somehow between us, it felt
like we might actually get there.
The morning sun filtered through the dense canopy as Dad and I
packed up our rifles and gear for a day of deer hunting.
The forest seemed to wake up with us, a chorus of birds
singing from the trees, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of
the night before. Dad seemed more relaxed, almost
cheerful, as we trek deeper into the woods to a spot he'd scouted
on our last trip. Deer like to graze along the
Ridge in the morning. We'll have a good chance if
we're quiet. He whispered, his voice blending
with the rustle of leaves under foot.
I nodded, following his lead, appreciating the expertise he
brought to these moments. It was a skill honed before I
was born, a connection to the land that he was passing down to
me. Despite our usual discord, the
Ridge gave us a perfect vantage point, and soon enough, a group
of deer appeared, cautiously stepping into the clearing
below. We watched, breaths held, as Dad
lined up a shot, his rifle steady and practiced hands.
The crack of the rifle split the morning stillness, and one of
the deer fell. We tracked a second one for a
few hours before Dad took another clean shot, adding to
our provisions. By the time we returned to camp,
loaded down with our bounty, the woods were alive with sounds, an
orchestra of nature that seemed to play just for us.
We were tired but exhilarated, sharing a sense of
accomplishment as we prepared the deer.
The camp filled with the rich, earthy scent of cooking meat.
As dusk approached, the forest's ambiance shifted.
The lively chatter of daytime creatures gave way to an
unsettling quiet, and a prickling sense of being watched
crawled up my spine. Dad noticed it too.
His eyes narrowed, scanning the tree line as we ate.
This is different, he muttered, his voice low.
I could only nod, feeling the weight of the silence that
settled over us, dense and foreboding.
The darkness deepened, and we retreated to our tent, the day's
fatigue pulling us toward sleep. Yet just as I began to drift
off, the crunch of footsteps near our tent jerked me awake.
Dad was already up, his hand on his rifle, eyes wide in the dim
light. Something's out there, he
whispered. We moved quietly, cautiously
unzipping the tent to peer into the night.
The beam of our flashlights cut through the blackness, revealing
nothing at first. Then something massive shifted
in the shadows. It was a creature I couldn't
have imagined in my wildest fears.
A beast covered in patchy fur, its eyes reflecting our lights
with a menacing red and yellow glow.
It stood, improbably, on two legs, towering over the
underbrush. Its howl ripped through the
silence, a sound so alien and terrifying it froze my blood.
Without thinking, Dad and I fired.
The shots echoed, deafening in the enclosed space of the
forest. The creature staggered but
didn't fall, instead howling again, a sound that made every
instinct scream to flee. Dad grabbed my arm, pulling me
back as the creature charged. We ran, stumbling through the
dark to the truck, the beast's heavy steps thundering behind
us. Dad shoved me into the passenger
seat, slamming the door just as a massive rock crashed against
the truck, nearly shattering the window.
He started the engine and we tore out of there, the truck's
headlights bobbing wildly as we bounced over the rough track.
We didn't stop until we reached the safety of a hotel miles
away, where we collapsed into a room, the adrenaline slowly
ebbing from our veins. That night, neither of us spoke
of what we saw, the unspoken agreement heavy between us as we
lay awake listening to the sounds of a normal world
outside, a world that now felt infinitely safer than the one we
had escaped. My name is Chris, I'm a longtime
fan from Melbourne, Australia, and the story I've got for you
actually involves your YouTube channel.
Just creepy in a sort of roundabout way.
I met my girlfriend in May of 2019 and it was she who
introduced me to your videos. I'm not going to lie, at first I
did think it was a bit weird that scary stories seem to help
her fall asleep. But after a while I started to
see the appeal and we'd often put on a video while doing the
dishes after dinner. This became something of a long
time ritual for us. Then sometime in late February
the following year, we were listening to some of your
camping stories when my girlfriend suggested that we pay
a visit to the one in Got A Valley.
Got A Valley is about a four hour drive out of Melbourne and
it's a fairly popular destination for hikers and
campers. I know it probably makes us
sound a bit mental to listen to a load of scary camping stories
and then be like, well, that sounds like a good time, sign me
up. But we're actually aware of how
rare any kind of rural crime is. We didn't feel like we would be
in any danger, and we weren't, in all fairness.
But then at the same time, that makes what I'm about to tell you
pretty bloody ironic. So we drove out to Wanna Dada
and I remember the exact date being the 21st of March 2020.
We bought a load of camping gear online and we're looking for a
good spot to pitch our tents. When we came across a couple of
other campers, they were standing just off the trail and
about 10 to 15 meters away was a burned out utility vehicle and
what looked like the charred remains of a tent.
There was a man and a woman there, fairly young looking, and
the man was pacing back and forth with his phone to his ear,
looking majorly concerned. My first thought was that these
guys had accidentally set their tent or Ute on fire, which had
then caused the other to catch fire.
God knows how they might have managed that.
But figuring out exactly what had happened wasn't the first
thing on our minds. We just wanted to make sure that
the couple was all right. As we were walking up the trail,
the guy thanked whoever he was talking to on his phone and then
just hung up just in time to greet us.
As we got closer, it turns it wasn't their campsite.
They had just come across it at the same time as we did and
figured they'd report it since it was obviously fresh.
We could smell that charred kind of burn smell from all the way
over on the trail, so he was right when he said that it must
have been fresh. But the guy said that there was
some untouched food lying around too, recently purchased stuff,
which made him think that it wasn't just some teenagers
looking to destroy the evidence of their last night's joyride.
The bloke had actually been on the phone to the coppers right
as we turned up, which was obviously the right thing to do,
but since someone was already dealing with it, my girl and I
just kept on walking after wishing the other couple good
luck. It sounds crazy looking back on
it, but at the time we didn't think there was anything
sinister going on. What it looked like was that
there had been some kind of horrible accident and someone
was potentially hurt. There were no signs of a
struggle, no blood or any other sort of human remains.
It didn't look like what it was. Not long after we got back, my
girlfriend sent me a link on Facebook to a local news story.
The burned out Ute intent that we'd come across belonged to an
elderly couple who had been out camping just like we had, but
instead of getting the help they needed, they hadn't shown up
anywhere at all and they were still considered missing people.
There was a big appeal for information, so obviously my
girlfriend and I got in touch to offer our services, but to be
honest, I'm not sure that we were of much help at all.
We've been in the Valley for two nights, but aside from the run
in with the couple in the burn tents, we hadn't heard or seen
anything even remotely suspicious for a while.
We started to worry that the couple that we'd seen might have
been involved in some way. I mean, we just rocked up and
asked if they needed any help and then walked off.
After a quick chat. The bloke told me that he'd been
on the phone with the emergency services, but I had no way of
knowing that for certain. We'd mentioned them to the
police when we called them, and they told us they'd already
talked extensively to the person who made the call, but they
didn't tell us exactly when the call was made, nor did they give
us any details about the person who had made it.
Spoilers. But we really were just being a
bit overly paranoid because the couple we bumped into had
nothing to do with the missing people, and we found that out
for certain about 18 months later when the bodies of the
missing couple finally showed up.
It was sad, and I hate to sound harsh here or whatever, but it
wasn't really a surprise to me or my girlfriend.
This poor old couple had gone missing after some kind of
accidental fire had inflicted God knows what kind of injuries.
To them. It seemed like they'd gotten
lost, gotten hurt, or even worse.
Then sadly, they'd succumbed to the elements and passed away.
I remember my girlfriend saying that like say they'd been in the
tent whilst it was on fire, they could have inhaled all kinds of
nasty smoke on the way out. Not to mention getting burned
and then those burns getting infected or something.
It was just an all around horrible, tragic way to go out
and we really felt for the couple.
But then the news broke that it hadn't been any kind of accident
at all. The elderly couple had been
murdered and their Ute intent had been burned to get rid of
any physical evidence their killer might have left behind.
Knowing we'd come across the scene of a murder like that and
in complete ignorance too, was chilling.
According to things we read online, the murder had taken
place not even 24 hours before we arrived.
If we'd left the day before, we might have even seen them
hanging around their little campsite.
We might have even swapped a good day or two going past or at
the very best, maybe the trail. Being a bit busier might have
saved their lives. We felt terrible for their
families, for their friends, but at the same time, we couldn't
help but wonder about the gorier details.
Call it morbid curiosity, but my girl and I were pretty desperate
to know what had happened to that poor old couple.
I mean, we spent two nights in the valley after they were
killed, so were we in any danger at all?
Was someone just hunting people at random, or had it been some
kind of personal thing? As it turns out, it was neither
of those things. It wasn't some psycho serial
killer stalking the valley for victims, nor had the killer and
his victims ever laid eyes on each other before the murders
happened because of an argument that started over a bloody
drone. The whole thing is going through
the courts now, or at least it was when I had the idea to write
this all up and send it over to you.
I tell you to look it up for yourself, but it's as confusing
as it is depressing. The killer's defense lawyers are
saying that his victim pointed a gun at him and that he somehow
managed to rush the guy, grab the gun, and then killed the
elderly couple, both man and wife, before he burned all the
evidence. He even burned their bodies too.
And there's court testimony of him saying how he felt terrible
for doing it, how he vomited from the smell, all this stuff
trying to make him seem like a victim of the whole thing too.
It's just gross, man. But anyways, all the best with
your channel and all that, and best of luck in the future.
I don't know when this bloke's going to be sentenced or
whatever, but I hope it's for a bloody long time.
Fancy killing someone over a drone?
It hardly bears thinking about. It was another scorching summer
day in Northeast Pennsylvania, the kind of heat that clung to
you like a second skin, making every task feel like a marathon.
I sat slumped in my chair, a fan buzzing uselessly in the corner
of the room, and tried to muster the energy to do something,
anything, other than wilt. But as the sunlight poured in,
relentless and unyielding, I knew the outdoors beckoned.
After all, today was my day off, and despite the heat, the lake
was calling. I live about an hour and a
half's drive from Narrowsburg, NY, where my favorite fishing
spot awaited me. On any normal day, I'd be out
there by dawn, rod in hand, ready to wrestle with the day's
catch. But today had been different.
Today, the air was so thick and hot it felt like moving through
soup. I waited, hoping for a reprieve.
As the sun began to dip slightly in the sky, a plan formed in my
mind. Maybe it'll cool off by evening.
I mused aloud, speaking to no one in particular.
My fishing gear was already packed and ready, a constant in
the trunk of my car. Decision made, I felt a spark of
excitement. Fishing in the evening wasn't my
usual routine, but perhaps the change would do me good.
I dressed quickly, grabbing my kayaks, keys, and a cooler.
The drive to the lake was quiet and contemplative.
The roads were familiar, each turn bringing me closer to my
sanctuary. The setting sun painted the sky
in shades of orange and pink, a beautiful backdrop to my growing
anticipation. Arriving at the lake, I unloaded
my kayak with practiced ease. The air was cooler now, a gentle
breeze replacing the stifling heat of the day.
It was perfect. Pushing off from the shore, I
paddled out into the calm waters, the surface reflecting
the twilight like a mirror. For the first hour, I was in my
element, casting my line with hopeful precision.
But as the sky darkened further, a creeping disappointment
settled over me. The fish were proving elusive,
likely hiding deeper where the water remained cool and
undisturbed. Cast after cast came back empty.
No tug on the line, no battle to be had.
With a sigh, I considered calling it quits.
Maybe it's just not my day, I thought, feeling the weight of
the day's heat and the evenings fruitless efforts.
But as I prepared to reel in my line for the last time, a sudden
movement caught the corner of my eye.
Something was out there, disturbing the peaceful waters.
Curiosity piqued, I paused, straining to see through the
dimming light. Was it just a log?
Or perhaps one of the lakes? Giant snapping turtles?
No, this seemed different. Bigger, and with a purposeful
glide that sent a shiver down my spine, the realization that it
might not be something so benign dawned.
Slowly, chillingly, with a mix of fear and fascination, I
watched the mysterious shape move closer, my heart starting
to race what was lurking in my peaceful lake.
Could the evening's adventure take a turn towards the truly
unexpected? As the shadow drew nearer, my
initial thrill of curiosity turned to alarm.
Whatever was out there, it wasn't supposed to be.
The water, usually my ally and escape, now felt like unknown
territory, vast and possibly dangerous.
What had I gotten myself into? As I sat in my kayak, floating
on the glassy surface of the lake, the last light of day
fading into twilight, my initial curiosity about the mysterious
shape in the water turned into a cold knot of fear.
What I had hoped was just a trick of the shadows now seemed
far more ominous. The creature moved with a
purpose, its form sleek and powerful under the water
surface. My heart pounded as I realized
this was no log or turtle. It was something much bigger.
The creature's presence turned the peaceful evening into a
scene straight out of a horror movie.
As it drew closer, I could make out more details.
Its body was long and covered in scales that gleamed faintly in
the dying light. It can't be, I whispered to
myself. But a distant part of my brain
was putting the pieces together, remembering images from nature
documentaries. An alligator here.
The very thought seemed absurd, yet there it was, undeniable and
approaching. Panic surged through me, all
thoughts of fishing forgotten. I grabbed my paddle with
trembling hands. My first instinct was to get
away as fast as I could. The safety of the shore, which
had seemed so close moments ago, now felt miles away.
I paddled furiously, the splash of my paddle loud in the silent
evening. Every stroke was frantic,
fuelled by adrenaline. The kayak cut through the water,
its speed a testament to my desperation.
Behind me, the water stirred ominously.
I dared not look back, afraid that seeing the alligator would
only heighten my panic. I imagined it gaining on me, its
powerful body propelling it effortlessly.
My mind raced with horrifying possibilities.
What if it attacked? What if it overturned the kayak?
The water around me suddenly felt hostile, a hidden world of
danger lurking below the surface as the shoreline approached.
Never had I felt so relieved to feel the scrape of sand beneath
my kayak. I leaped out, my legs unsteady
and weak from fear, and dragged the kayak up onto the bank.
Only then did I dare to glance back at the water.
The surface was calm again, as if nothing had disturbed it.
Had I imagined it all? No, the terror was too real, too
visceral to be a figment of my imagination.
Breathing heavily, I made my way to my car, throwing the kayak
and my gear inside more hastily than I ever had before.
The drive home was a blur of St. lights and shadowy trees, my
mind replaying the night's events over and over.
When I finally reached home, I was still shaking.
I recounted the encounter to my ex-wife over the phone, who was
less than thrilled to hear of my brush with danger.
Promise me you won't go back there, she pleaded.
I could only agree, the fear still too fresh, too raw.
The next day I called an old friend who worked in the Fish
and Game department. He confirmed my fears weren't
unfounded. 2 alligators had been removed from that lake and
another nearby over the past summers.
They were likely illegal pets released into the wild.
The news was both a relief and a worry.
It was an explanation, yes, but it meant the danger was real.
That night changed my view of the lake forever.
What had once been a refuge now seemed like a hidden pool of
threats. My love for fishing would
continue, but perhaps I thought it was time to find a new spot,
a place without such chilling surprises lurking beneath its
serene surface. Patapsco State Park used to be
one of my favorite places in the entire world.
I grew up just outside of Baltimore, in a place called
Woodlawn. Some of you might recognize that
name, but probably not for the best of reasons.
I went to Woodlawn High School, the same one that Adnan Sayed
and Heyman Lee attended, and the same one made infamous by the
podcast Serial. For those of you not in the
know, Serial was probably the first big true crime podcast,
and it told the story of how Adnan supposedly murdered
Haimin, who was his girlfriend at the time she was killed.
It cast a long shadow over Woodlawn and Baltimore's
reputation had been in the toilet ever since The Wire came
out during my final year of middle school.
I used to love both places, and I spent what's probably an
embarrassing amount of time defending both in various online
game lobbies. But then came the day when I was
no longer able to defend Baltimore or the wider county,
and that just so happened to be the day that I decided never to
visit Patapsco State Park ever again.
My girlfriend and I decided to visit during the summer of 2014,
as Patapsco has a ton of different places to camp that
came with their own table and fire ring.
I'd spent almost my entire life hiking and camping around that
park, hence why it was one of my favorite places, and that also
meant that I knew the place like the back of my hand.
I knew one of the most secluded and picturesque places to hike
was between the river and the train tracks.
It had a stretch of barely trodden trail right there next
to the AH river, and provided a train didn't roll past every so
often, you might think it was a scene from a fairy story or
something. Which is obviously why I was so
excited to show my girlfriend at the time, because I figured if I
thought it was pretty she would go absolutely nuts over it.
Anyway, we drove out to Patapsco, found ourselves a free
campsite, then once we were all set up, we crossed the train
tracks and started heading for the river.
We were about 10 to 15 minutes into the hike.
My girlfriend was absolutely loving the river and was taking
all kinds of pictures on her phone when suddenly we heard
voices from somewhere on the other side of the water.
The river isn't all that wide, but since it was summer and all
the trees and bushes were in bloom, we couldn't see who it
was until someone suddenly burst out from the bushes and ran into
the river. They looked scared and as they
were running their foot must have caught on a rock or
something because they suddenly just splashed down into the
water in what looked like a pretty nasty fall.
I was about ready to jog up the bank a little to see if the guy
was OK and if he wanted any help, but then right as I was
about to take off, he stood up, turned around and yelled out no,
please no. The next thing we heard was Bang
Bang bang. 3 gunshots, then the guy fell backwards into the
river again. It was all over in a matter of
seconds. We heard the voices, saw the guy
fall, then he stood up and he was dead.
But I swear I don't think his back had even touched the water
before my girlfriend and I took off running.
It was just a complete 180. Not in terms of the direction we
ran either. Everything was turned on its
head. One minute I was the happiest
I'd been for many months, and the next we were quite literally
running for our lives. I mean, I know it wasn't us
getting shot at, but I figured if someone was willing to do
that, they probably didn't want any witnesses either.
I think the thing that really sticks with me was how I didn't
run as fast as I could have. The whole time my girlfriend and
I were running I was trying to keep my body between her and the
shooter, thinking something like if anyone was going to get hit I
wanted it to be me and not her. I'm not saying that to sound
heroic, it was purely out of instinct.
I just remember the skin crawling sensation that came
with it though. Slowing myself down when I
wanted to Sprint off through the trees, all while hoping that I
didn't get shot and then hoping that if I did get shot the
bullet wouldn't go through me and hit my girlfriend too.
She was amazing by the way. She ran like the wind and stayed
as quiet as possible and didn't even start to slow down until we
were safely back across the tracks.
Without a shadow of a doubt, those were the most terrifying
few minutes of my entire life. If it was just me on my own, or
maybe me with like a guy friend, it would have been scary all the
same. But with it being my girlfriend
with me, for some reason that made it all the more terrifying.
I guess there was just that natural instinct to protect her,
but at the same time I knew that if push came to shove, I
wouldn't be able to protect her from a guy with a gun,
especially if that person wanted to do us harm.
The best I could do was try to shield her, and I'm proud of
myself for doing that, but it's still made for a terrifying few
minutes. We ended up getting out of there
safely and we called the cops as soon as we were able, but I
don't know anything about the person who got shot, and as far
as I know, their killer has never been caught.
It was just another regular day in our little Florida
neighborhood, except my best friend and I had planned an
exciting evening. We were going to the Creek
behind our neighborhood to catch some fish.
The Creek was hidden in the woods, which had a pretty creepy
reputation. People said it was a spot for
devil worshipping and mysterious happenings a long time ago.
But we weren't scared. We had played and fished there
since we were little kids. We knew those woods like the
back of our hands. We grabbed our fishing poles and
packed some snacks. My friend brought his machete
just in case we needed to cut through thick bushes.
Or, you know, defend ourselves against something.
I laughed off the idea, though the woods had always given me
the chills when it started getting dark.
As we walked towards the Creek, the sun was just beginning to
dip below the tree tops, casting long shadows that made our
familiar path look a bit strange.
You ever wonder if the stories are true?
My friend asked, swinging his machete casually by his side.
Nah. I replied, trying to sound
braver than I felt. It's just stuff the older kids
say to scare us. We reached our favorite fishing
spot and settled down. The water was calm and the
sounds of nature were all around us.
Birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the occasional fish jumping.
It was peaceful and for a while we forgot all about the spooky
stories. But as it got darker, the wood
seemed to close in around us. The noises of the day gave way
to the eerier sounds of the night.
Crickets chirped loudly, and an owl hooted somewhere in the
distance. Then something else.
Join the nighttime Symphony. Sounds that didn't belong.
A rustling not caused by the wind.
A faint whispering that seemed to come from all around us.
Did you hear that? I whispered to my friend.
He nodded, gripping his machete tighter.
We listened and the whispering grew louder but we couldn't make
out any words. It was like the trees themselves
were talking. Suddenly a loud crash from the
tree tops nearly made me jump out of my skin.
We looked up and saw something that made our hearts stop.
A dark human like shape swinging from branch to branch heading
right towards us. It wasn't any animal, we knew
the thing was big and move too fast.
The next sound we heard was like nothing I'd ever heard before, a
mix between pigs squealing and women screaming.
It was the most bone chilling thing I had ever heard.
Without thinking we grabbed our stuff and ran as fast as our
legs could carry us. Behind us, the crashing and the
horrible screams followed. I didn't dare look back.
My friend was ahead of me, slicing at the bushes that
blocked our path. My chest burned with each breath
and my legs felt like Jelly, but fear pushed me forward.
We were about halfway through the field of tall grass when the
creature hit the ground with a heavy thud.
It was now chasing us on foot. I could see the grass parting
behind us, as if something invisible was moving through it.
Just when I thought it would grab us, the creature vanished,
but we didn't stop running until we reached the safety of the
hole in the fence. Crawling through, I felt a mix
of relief and terror. We had escaped, but what was
that thing and would it come after us again?
As we ran all the way back to my house, all I knew was that those
woods were no longer just our playground.
They were something else, something sinister.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst through
my chest. My friend and I had just
squeezed through the hole in the tall chain link fence and I
could hear that thing crashing towards us from behind.
It slammed into the fence with such force that the whole
section shook. Thankfully, we were already on
the other side, running as fast as our legs could carry us.
We didn't stop running until we reached my backyard.
Once inside, we slammed the door shut and leaned against it,
trying to catch our breath. My mom came rushing into the
room, a worried look on her face.
What's wrong? You boys look like you've seen a
ghost. She said, her voice full of
concern. I tried to explain the words,
tumbling out in a rush. There's something in the woods,
Mom. It chased us.
It was screaming like nothing I've ever heard before.
I expected her to say she believed us, to comfort us like
she always did when we were scared.
But this time she didn't. Boys, you're just letting your
imaginations run wild. It was probably just an animal.
You know your minds can play tricks on you when it gets dark.
She said, brushing it off. My friend and I exchanged
glances. We knew what we heard.
We knew what we saw. It wasn't our imaginations.
That night, neither of us could sleep.
Every little sound made me jump, and I kept staring at my window,
half expecting to see that shadowy figure peering in.
The next night, the entire neighborhood was awakened by the
same terrifying screams we had heard in the woods.
Lights flicked on and houses up and down our street, and soon
people were gathering outside, talking and hushed, frightened
voices. What is that sound?
Someone asked. It sounds like it's coming from
the woods, Another neighbor replied.
The next morning, a group of adults, including my dad and
some neighbors, decided to go into the woods to see if they
could figure out what was going on.
My friend and I insisted on going with them.
We LED them to the spot where we had been fishing.
As we walked, I noticed something new, something
terrifying. On the path to our usual fishing
spot, someone had drawn pentagrams on 6 trees.
Each symbol was part of a bigger pentagram that had been drawn on
the ground. We had walked right through it
the previous day and hadn't even noticed.
The adults muttered to each other, looking worried.
The atmosphere was tense and nobody ventured too far from the
group. After a thorough look around, we
found nothing else out of the ordinary, but the symbols were
enough to make everyone uneasy. Word spread quickly through our
neighborhood about what we had found.
The stories about the woods grew darker, and soon nobody dared to
go near them after sunset. The house nearest to the woods,
which always had a creepy vibe, now stood completely empty.
People said it was haunted, and after what we experienced, I
believed them. Those woods had changed.
They weren't our playground anymore.
They were a place of mystery and danger, and whatever lived there
was best left alone. We never went fishing there
again, and I always felt a chill when I passed by the path that
led into those dark, whispering trees.
Back in 2011, I tried to organize a camping trip for
myself and a few friends. They had been talking all spring
about how awesome it would be if we all went camping together.
Just a bunch of dudes, no phones, just living in the
moment and all that kind of stuff.
However, as the date approached, each of the four dudes dropped
out 1 by 1, citing various reasons for their inability to
attend. Obviously, it's sucked.
I was super stoked for some kind of crazy adventure, and I'd also
invested a significant amount of money in all the clothing and
gear I thought I needed. I was heartbroken that the trip
was basically set to be cancelled, but then it occurred
to me, why not just go on my own?
We had planned the trip for mid-july, which is easily the
best time to camp in the far northeast, meaning it was very
much a case of sticking to the date or possibly waiting a whole
year for the opportunity to resurface.
So I packed my stuff and on the day we were due to depart off, I
went on my lonesome for a few days camping in Acadia National
Park. For the three days that I was
there, I had the time of my life.
I actually figured that I might regret going solo, that I'd be
bored out of my skull for the duration, but I couldn't have
been more wrong. First off, I barely had a moment
to myself. Between making camp, collecting
enough firewood, setting up the bear alarms, and getting the
fire going, I literally did not have a spare moment until
sundown. Then when it finally did go
down, I was in no mood to relax. Night time in the woods is
freaking scary, dude. And since it was my first night
in the woods in probably 10 years and I was on my own, it
was just a lot to get used to in a very short space of time.
At least if I wanted any sleep anyway.
I got used to the night sounds in the end, and there's only so
many times that you can play that scene from The Blair Witch
Project in your head before it just gets kind of old, you know?
After that, the second and third nights were way easier and I
managed to actually get some decent bouts of sleep.
Then on the 3rd and final night of my trip, I woke up in the
middle of the night in some serious discomfort.
There's no delicate way to put this, so I'll just be blunt
about it. I didn't poop for three whole
days while I was out there. Every time I even thought about
it, I'd picture a snake Slytherin up to me having to
abort and either getting poop all over me or getting my butt
bitten by a Garter snake or something.
There aren't any venomous snakes up here in Maine, but they'll
still bite you if the mood takes them, so the idea of dropping
trout and squatting somewhere wasn't in the least bit
appealing to me. But I could only put it off for
so long. I was almost constantly busy or
on the move, at least during daylight hours, and that meant
that I needed to eat a lot. But then the more I ate, the
more I needed to take a dump until I finally reached the
point where I couldn't hold it in anymore.
I got up, put my headlamp on the tactical settings so that it
emitted just a little blue light, it's harder to spot, and
then walked off into the woods with my wet wipes.
I didn't walk far, but I didn't exactly want to poop right next
to where I was planning on eating breakfast the next
morning either. So I must have walked for at
least a minute or two trying to find the perfect spot before
finally leaning up against a tree and dropping my pants.
I promise that is enough poop talk for the remainder of the
story. Just know that everything went
smoothly. Maybe not the best choice of
words, and I managed to wipe and pull my pants up before starting
on the walk back to my camp. But literally just as I'm about,
I don't know, 80 to 90 feet away, I see another person's
flashlight shining up near my camp.
The sudden appearance of this other person in the middle of
the night obviously sent major alarm bells ringing in my head.
And obviously there were a handful of innocent
explanations, but there were way more not so innocent ones too.
So instead of just walking back up to my camp to see what this
mysterious stranger wanted, I switched off my headlamp real
quick and then crept over to a tree trunk in the darkness and
watched from behind it. Some of you might be thinking,
why the dim blue light? Well, if you've given yourself
night blindness by using a big bright flashlight like my
visitor was, it's almost impossible to detect that real
dim shade of blue. And that's why I was able to
turn my headlamp off real quick without being seen.
Anyway, so I duck behind a tree, watching as this guy's
flashlight beam is just sort of moving around my camp.
I can't see the guy holding it, not in any sort of great detail
anyway, but I could see that he was shining his flashlight on
different stuff, like he was inspecting my camp or looking
for something. Seconds later I see a second
flashlight appear, meaning two people were now walking around
my campsite. The second flashlight seemed to
follow the same pattern as the first for a minute.
Before the two strangers stopped inspecting my camp and started
talking to each other. Now I couldn't hear every word,
but I heard enough to know that they were looking for me
specifically. One guy asked the other a
question and his reply was just a little louder when he said he
was just here. Now hearing those words made for
one of the creepiest moments of my entire life.
I get the two guys might just randomly stumble across the
campsite after dark, that's not entirely out of the question,
but then to know that at least one of them had been watching me
somehow made me feel sick to my stomach.
I felt perfectly capable of defending myself, but only
against things I could see and things that didn't creep up on
me in the middle of the night when I should have been
sleeping. You also got to remember that I
put down a bunch of little bear alarms, which are basically trip
wires with a noisemaker on the end, and those guys made it up
to my camp without triggering a single one.
Sure, they had flashlights, but those things aren't easy to see
if you don't know they're there, even in broad daylight.
I watched the two flashlights for a few minutes longer, trying
to figure out what the two men were saying.
I could barely make out a word, but then I heard one of them say
something like, we'll just come back tomorrow.
A few more words were exchanged, and then the two guys turned and
walked away from my campsite. I stayed put for maybe 10 to 15
minutes, internally debating on what I should do.
In my head, I was almost certain that the two guys, or at least
one of them, would go back to wherever they were watching me
from and then return the second I showed up at my camp.
Again, I wanted nothing more than to just run back to camp,
pack my stuff away, and then get the hell out of there before
dawn. But that first thought stopped
me. Packing up camp would make way
more noise than I was comfortable making, and there
was also no way that I'd be able to do that without cranking my
headlamp up, which in turn would make it much easier to see me.
And this was also assuming that the two strangers didn't have
some kind of night vision capability.
Now I know that sounds like I was overthinking the whole
thing, but I literally had nothing else to do.
I was just stuck there in the darkness, barely breathing, not
moving. All I had were my thoughts and
my fears, nothing else. I stayed exactly where I was for
what seemed like forever, and then I finally started to see
dawn approaching and I felt safe enough to creep back up to my
camp and start to dismantle it. I did it as quickly and quietly
as possible. Then, instead of having some
breakfast like I had planned to before departure, I walked all
the way back to where I'd left my car.
This took me way longer than it would have done under any other
circumstances too, because I made a huge effort not to stick
to any regular trails. I also made a point of stopping
at the Information Center on the way off the island, where I
asked if any of the Rangers had come across a campground in the
middle of the night. They didn't have a clue what I
was talking about. No Rangers had been patrolling
the park after dark, and if they had been, there's no way they'd
have just walked up on some sleeping campers like that.
Since the Rangers also handle law enforcement in the parks, I
was invited to file a report and give as much detail as possible.
If folks were creeping up on campers in the middle of the
night, the Rangers damn sure wanted to know about it.
But as much as I appreciated their concern, I wasn't exactly
filled with the kind of confidence that made me want to
revisit Acadia anytime soon. Don't forget to check out Magic
Mind. You can find the link in the
description to get started today.