My minutes are numbered. As I write this, I hear them
outside. They have started to mimic my
parents and as I don't respond, the pounding on the door gets
louder, getting louder and louder until the screams
outweigh the pounding. I think I'm going mad.
I don't think they can get in for now.
Hopefully this documentation of my experience helps someone.
I recently moved to the middle of nowhere and if I knew the
events that would transpire in the next week I would have just
moved back in with my parents. It was a nice two-story house in
the middle of the forest. I'm a veterinarian so I made a
decent living. Plus the house wasn't that bad
of a price. I got a job at the vet clinic in
town and moved into my new home. The first two days went great.
I unpacked and on the third day I started my job at the clinic.
It was a great first day and it was also a slow day, so I got to
know my coworkers. When I got home that night it
was foggy, but I could have sworn I saw something moving in
the trees. I would have shrugged it off,
but it looked too human, like it creeped me out and not wanting
to take any chances, I hurried into my house, lock the door,
and looked through the blinds. Nothing.
Just the trees in the fog. After that, I went through my
entire house to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary.
Call me paranoid. I know how ironic A paranoid
person is living in the middle of the woods alone.
After I made sure everything was in the ordinary, I went to bed.
The next day I was rudely awoken to a loud bang.
I shot up out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat at the side of
my bed. Slowly, I went downstairs and I
heard a second bang at my front door.
I peeked through the blinds and was met with a horrifying sight.
A man wearing a deer head holding a machete.
I ran upstairs, grabbing my phone.
I called 911. It took them 30 minutes to
arrive and by that time the person was gone.
I met with the officer outside and explained to her what had
happened. Officer Bailey, this is not the
first time this happened in this forest.
What we can do is do a walk through the forest.
If it happens again, don't hesitate to call me.
This isn't the first time this has happened, Officer Bailey.
I wouldn't worry. It's probably a homeless person
on drugs. Again, if anything else happens,
don't hesitate to call. I didn't understand how a man
wearing a deer head with a machete was a homeless person.
Before I could say anything else, I saw her get in her car.
With that, she was gone. I was back alone outside my
house. I was weirded out.
But before I could think about it further, my phone buzzed.
I checked my watch and realized I had work in an hour and a
half. I got dressed and headed out.
I got home late that night and I noticed something very alarming.
My front door was wide open instantly.
I called the police. Once they got there, both
officers told me to wait and entered my house.
Apparently there was blood on the hallway walls leading to my
bedroom. I told the officers what had
happened that morning and they seemed to be a bit disturbed.
They told me that this could be a cult connection and that since
these two incidents happened just hours between they were
going to station and officer outside my house.
That relieved me a bit, but the blood on my wall really freaked
me out. I cleaned it up and tried to go
to bed. After what felt like hours, I
finally fell asleep. The next day I woke up and the
officer was gone. I made a cup of coffee and
texted my parents. They were really worried about
me and wanted me to move back to my hometown.
I couldn't just drop my new job and abandoned my house.
I told them I'd keep them updated and I'd be safe, and
then I got a knock at my front door.
I froze. After yesterday, I was a lot on
edge, so I went to the blinds and peered through.
It was Officer Bailey. I opened the door and what she
told me made my whole body go cold.
The officer stationed outside my house was missing.
Apparently they found his car in a ditch 10 minutes from my house
with a blood trail ending in the middle of the forest.
She asked me if I saw anything and I said no.
After she left, I considered leaving town.
This was all too much. Almost a week into living here
and weird stuff has been happening.
I calmed down and decided to enjoy my day off until I saw
that man again, walking through the forest holding a bloody
machete. I saw him look toward my window
and I ducked. When I looked back up, he was
gone. Then I saw at least 20 people
walking up to my house. Some of them were wearing masks,
but the ones that weren't wearing masks had wide smiles
with bloodshot eyes or no face at all.
I was terrified. I heard glass breakdown stairs
and I ran to my bedroom door and I knocked my dresser in front of
it. I grabbed my baseball bat and my
phone. I called the police, but I got
no answer. My mind was racing and I heard
footsteps moving through my house.
I heard someone walking up my stairs and then I heard the
voice. The one voice I didn't expect to
hear. It was Officer Bailey trying to
get me to come out. I ignored it and stayed silent.
I didn't know what to trust. After a few minutes it started
banging on the door and screaming.
It didn't stop for an hour. Now it's been 16 hours.
They are getting smarter and I found myself close to moving the
dresser and opening the door. The screaming is getting longer,
the banging louder and something cut the electricity.
The light from the screen of my phone is my only source of
light. I'm going insane.
It's imitating my parents. I don't know what to do.
I feel hopeless. The dresser is moving each pound
on the door. This is a story about my first
camping trip, a journey that would forever haunt my memories.
I had never been much of an outdoorsy person, and had always
been content with my video games like Raymond Origins.
Yet fate had a different plan for me.
When my friend Clara invited me, along with two others, on a
camping adventure. Clara and I shared a special
bond, something deeper than just friendship, but we were both too
timid to explore it further. So when she reached out to me, I
decided to give camping a try. The prospect of spending time
with her was enticing and my video games could wait.
We gathered next to one of our friends houses where Jermaine
and Lucas were busy packing the car.
Jermaine, a car enthusiast, couldn't help but talk about
cars, especially his new found love for Initial D Lucas, on the
other hand, had suggested the camping trip, driven by his love
for nature and his new camera, eager to capture the beauty of
the outdoors. They had everything prepared,
from food to sleeping bags, and we were ready to set off.
The forest lay on the edge of our town and as we drove, Clara
and I spent our time chatting while Lucas and Jermaine
listened to the radio. Upon arrival, we were greeted by
a sign that read Corniger Woods and I stepped out of the car,
only to be met with an unsettling sight, a deer's
lifeless body, its entrails strewn across the road, a grim
omen for what lay ahead. Jermaine urged us not to let
this morbid discovery dampen our spirits, and we followed them
into the woods. As we ventured deeper, I tried
to appear brave, though anxiety nod at me.
The unknown of the forest was intimidating.
I questioned Lucas about his choice of this particular
camping spot, to which he explained his curiosity about
the place and his desire to photograph its wildlife.
We settled in a serene clearing, a perfect camping spot with
fewer trees around. Setting up the tents, I sat down
to rest, checking my phone. It was 3:30 PM.
Clara joined me, sensing my nervousness.
Hey, are you feeling OK? Is something wrong?
She asked. Nope, just a bit nervous.
It's my first time, after all, I replied.
I'm sure you'll feel better soon.
If you get bored, just let me know.
We can chat or find something fun to do together.
OK. Thanks Clara.
I knew you could always cheer me up.
I'll probably be fine. Go help those guys set up the
tent. They seem to be struggling.
Clara smiled and kissed me on the cheek before heading over to
assist Lucas and Jermaine. As I sat alone, I noticed a
peculiar piece of paper affixed to one of the trees nearby, A
missing person poster. It depicted a family of four who
had vanished a year ago with a 5 year old boy among them.
I decided to take a photo of the poster, just in case I stumbled
upon any clues. As dusk settled in, Lucas asked
Jermaine and me to gather firewood.
Reluctantly, we ventured into the woods, and while exploring,
I nearly stumbled into a lake. Saved only by Jermaine's quick
reflexes. The lake, despite its slightly
greenish water, held a serene beauty, with ducks floating in
the distance. However, Jermaine soon disrupted
the tranquility, claiming to have discovered a corpse, this
time a wolf. We hurriedly collected enough
twigs and made our way back to camp, but the eerie atmosphere
began to unnerve me. Jermaine decided to play a prank
on me, mimicking creepy sounds. Despite my protests, strange
noises emanated from behind me, unsettling gurgling and snapping
sounds. Annoyed, I demanded Dude stop
that already. However, when I turned around
instead of Jermaine, a deer stood before me.
Panic welled up inside me, and I called Jermaine's name in vain.
The twigs he had gathered were left scattered on the ground.
I grabbed the twigs and rushed back to camp, only to find Clara
and Lucas waiting for us. Clara's concern deepened when
Jermaine was nowhere to be seen. We recounted the bizarre events
to Clara and Lucas, who believed every word but assumed Jermaine
was pulling an elaborate prank. He was known for his mischievous
nature. To add to the confusion, the
deer's presence seemed coincidental.
Clara and I reviewed the missing person poster, still puzzled by
the forests eerie aura. As night descended, we decided
to cook dinner, attempting to carry on with a semblance of
normalcy. We sang, drank and laughed,
trying to forget the strange occurrences.
Darkness fell and Clara and I decided to retire to our tent,
while Lucas insisted on night time wildlife photography.
Luke, why not wait until morning?
It's risky to wander the woods at night.
I don't want you to end up like Jermaine, I cautioned.
I can't miss the chance to photograph nocturnal animals.
Besides, I came here for this. I heard there's a population of
mountain lions in this area, Lucas replied.
So you're saying you came here just to photograph mountain
lions? I asked incredulously.
Well, yes. I've never captured a lion in a
photo before. Our conversation was abruptly
interrupted by a blood curdling scream echoing from the woods, a
sound resembling that of a Mountain Lion.
Lucas, undeterred, decided to investigate.
Alarmed, we followed him armed with flashlights.
The agonizing cries filled the night air, unsettling us.
Claire advised me to remain calm and stand our ground if we
encountered a Mountain Lion. Lucas LED us to the source of
the noise, and they're just a few feet away we saw a Mountain
Lion. We remained silent, watching as
Lucas snapped. Picture after picture, tension
hung in the air, but our vigilance paid off.
Lucas's camera flash seemed to deter the animal momentarily.
We kept still, trying to avoid drawing its attention.
However. Lucas suddenly sprinted away,
prompting the lion to chase him. It was a surreal sight, Lucas
running for his life, and Claire and I following suit, our
flashlights flickering in a desperate attempt to distract
the beast. Miraculously, our tactic worked,
and the lion halted its pursuit. Retreating into the woods, we
followed the trail of footprints to a large stone, where we found
Lucas trembling. His face contorted in agony.
He was still holding his camera, but something was horribly
wrong. Hair was sprouting on his arms
and legs, and his features began to change.
Why does this feel so natural? This feeling, it's amazing,
Lucas mumbled, his voice unsteady.
You're not making any sense. What's happening to you?
I asked, my unease growing. I think I belong here.
This is my home. This place is perfect.
Lucas's speech faltered as he clutched his face, emitting
gurgling noises similar to what we had heard when Jermaine
disappeared. Lucas's transformation continued
before our eyes. His body morphed and he shrank
in sighs, his ears elongating. Claire and I stood frozen,
unable to comprehend the horrific spectacle unfolding
before us. When the metamorphosis ended, we
weren't looking at Lucas anymore.
Instead, it was a rabbit. Shocked and horrified, Clara and
I couldn't move as the creature scampered away into the woods,
mirroring the fate of the deer earlier, Clara and I were left
speechless, grappling with the nightmarish reality of our
friends transformation in a daze, We examine the photographs
on Lucas's camera, revealing the chilling sequence of his
metamorphosis. We returned to camp, bewildered
and frightened. Aware that our lives were in
jeopardy. We entered our tent, Clara
seeking solace in my arms, her tears soaking my shirt.
I tried to console her, promising that we would find a
way out of this nightmare. Uncertainty loomed as we gazed
into each other's eyes, both knowing that one of us might be
the next to succumb to this curse.
Amidst the uncertainty, Clara and I decided to leave the
forest as quickly as possible. She held my hand as we fled the
campsite. I was determined to save her and
myself from the fate that had befallen Jermaine and Lucas.
However, as we fled, Clara's legs began to transform into
hooves, causing her to stumble and scrape her knees.
I scooped her up, my heart heavy with despair, and continued my
frantic search for the forest's exit.
Clara placed her hand on my cheek, her eyes filled with love
and resignation. I want you to get out.
I'm not sure I'll make it. I might not be able to walk like
this. Please continue your life.
It's better if you leave me here.
Just know that I love you. I'm sorry for not telling you
sooner. I'll try to remember you, even
if I'm no longer human. With tears streaming down my
face, I ran with all my might determined to save her.
But it was too late. My beloved friend, now a wild
boar, squealed and kicked, forcing me to release her.
She sprinted into the woods, disappearing like the others.
I continued running, desperation driving me forward.
Eventually, by sheer luck, I stumbled upon the forest's edge.
My heart raced as I tried to open the car door, only to
realize that I had left the keys behind.
Panic surged and I waved frantically at the approaching
red and blue lights. A police car.
The officer listened to my desperate plea and agreed to
help. As I sat in the officers car, I
stole the last look at the forest, noticing something even
more unsettling. A human corpse where the deer
had once lain, the father from the missing person poster.
My world had descended into madness and I shuddered at the
forest's ominous secrets, wondering if I would ever escape
its haunting grip. 2 weeks ago I found myself embroiled in a
spine chilling ordeal that I'll never forget.
It all began when my dual credit college professor assigned us a
weekend project to gather notes for a descriptive essay about a
place in our town that held sentimental value.
I chose an old hiking trail I used to frequent during my
childhood, a decision that would lead to a nightmarish experience
I never saw coming. As the weekend dwindled away, I
found myself procrastinating until the last possible moment
dusk had already descended upon the town.
When I finally decided to tackle the assignment, I drove to the
trailhead, a small and secluded parking lot tucked away in the
woods. A faint sense of unease gnawed
at me, but I brushed it aside as typical nerves.
After all, I had ventured into these woods countless times
before I began my hike. With the sun's last rays fading
behind the horizon, darkness crept in relentlessly, and soon
I had to rely on the feeble light of my phone's flashlight,
and eerie sensation settled in. It was as though unseen eyes
bore into me. I found myself constantly
glancing over my shoulder, searching for an elusive
presence that refused to reveal itself.
After roughly 20 minutes of navigating the trails obscurity,
I reached a small clearing and perched myself on a gnarled
stump. Here I began diligently
recording sensory details, intermittently taking video and
audio recordings for added authenticity.
Just before wrapping up my notes, I decided to review the
video footage, hoping to capture the essence of my childhood
memories. But what I discovered in the
video footage sent a jolt of terror through my veins.
A pallid, ghostly face had materialized behind a tree, its
hollow eyes fixed upon me. My heart plummeted and I
couldn't tear my gaze away from the screen.
Yet when I directed my attention to the tree where the sinister
apparition had been, nothing was there.
Fear course through me like a torrential river, and I hastily
closed my notebook. I knew I needed to escape the
forest and its malevolent secrets.
The Northern West Coast's dense woods seem to close in around
me, their shadows thickening with each passing 2nd.
Navigating through the pitch Black Forest, I trekked for
approximately 10 minutes before an ominous snap shattered the
silence. I froze in my tracks, acutely
aware of the looming danger. Glancing back, I glimpsed that
same ghastly white face in the distance.
Panic surged and I sprinted through the dense undergrowth,
my heart pounding like a war drum.
Although I was not known for my speed, I ran with a ferocity
born of sheer terror. 10 minutes felt like an eternity as I
surged toward my car, my muscles screaming in protest.
Finally reaching the vehicle, I flung open the door and
attempted to start the engine, but fate had other plans.
My car refused to cooperate, a cliched horror movie trope
brought to life. My frantic panic escalated and I
dialed my boyfriend, Mike, who live nearby.
With a trembling voice, I explained my predicament and
begged him to come quickly. My mother was out of town.
My father's phone was in the repair shop, leaving Mike as my
only lifeline. I sat there in the darkness,
every rustling leaf or distant hoot of an owl amplifying my
unease. Suddenly, a chilling sound
emerged, a scratching on the window.
My heart leaped into my throat as I turned, half expecting a
tree branch to be the culprit. Instead, I was met with the
ghastly visage of the white clothed man, his face pressed
against the window. Screams tore from my throat as I
frantically tried to start the car.
Mike arrived just in time. Pulling into the parking lot, I
scrambled out of my car, sprinting toward his truck,
terror gripping me with icy fingers.
I begged him to drive, and without hesitation he peeled
away from the ominous forest. Before we speed off, I cast a
final glance toward the trees. There he was, the white man
standing ominously in the tree line, a sinister spectre whose
intentions remain shrouded in darkness.
We raced to the police station, where I filed a report
recounting my horrifying ordeal. The following day, law
enforcement ventured into the woods, discovering my car's
battery, a menacing knife, and a chilling note left on the very
stump where I had SAT. Despite their efforts, they
never managed to unmask the enigmatic intruder.
The note was a harrowing revelation, a smeared lipstick
message in my native language that sent shivers down my spine.
Jevoque tu suis le noir de Montblanc.
It translated to I want you to be the black to my white.
It was an ominous sign that I had been stalked, A terrifying
realization that continues to haunt me to this day.
To this day, the identity of the white clothed man remains A
macabre mystery, and I'm left to grapple with the scars of that
horrifying encounter, forever changed by the darkness that
lurked within the woods. My name is Dave, and I've always
been a 23 year old man with an insatiable thirst for adventure
and a fascination with the supernatural.
The uncharted, the unexplained, and the Eerie have always held a
peculiar allure for me. It was only a matter of time
before I stumbled upon something that would forever alter the
course of my life. This story begins in a remote
forest in California, where the dense canopy of trees blocked
out most of the sunlight, casting an eerie gloom over the
area. With every step I took deeper
into the woods, the shadows grew thicker and the silence became
almost suffocating. It was the kind of silence that
seemed to hold secrets, secrets that beckoned me further as I
ventured on. An unexpected glint of sunlight
caught my eye, a glimmer of hope in the oppressive darkness.
It was the reflection of something metallic, concealed
beneath a mound of rubble and overgrown vegetation.
My curiosity, always my most powerful companion, urged me
forward. I knelt down, determined to
uncover the mystery hidden beneath the debris.
With each stone and branch I removed, I revealed more of the
enigma. Buried below it was an old,
rusted door, weathered by time and the elements that led to an
underground bunker. The entrance was entangled with
creeping vines, a testament to its long forgotten existence.
Yet despite the years of neglect, I managed to pry it
open, revealing a cold, dimly lit staircase that descended
into the earth. My heart pounded in my chest as
I cautiously descended those stairs, each step taking me
further into the unknown. The bunker's interior was far
more expansive than I had anticipated, its corridors
stretching deep into the earth like the veins of some ancient
creature. The air was thick with the musty
scent of time and decay, and I couldn't shake the feeling that
I was not the first person to have discovered this hidden
place. As I explored further, the only
sound in that eerie silence was the echoing of my own footsteps.
It was as if the very earth itself held its breath, awaiting
some revelation. And then the revelation came,
but it was not one I had ever expected.
An ominous feeling washed over me, and I strained my ears to
catch any unusual sounds. That's when I heard it, a
shuffling noise, faint but unmistakable, coming from the
darkness ahead. My grip on the flashlight
tightened as I moved forward, the beam of light cutting
through the oppressive darkness. And there it was, something that
defied reason and sent a shiver down my spine.
In the dim glow of the flashlight, I saw the creature.
It was unlike anything I had ever encountered in my wildest
nightmares. This was not the typical tall,
lanky, Bony fingered creature with a cold touch that haunted
the pages of horror stories. No, this creature was a
grotesque abomination. Its body was almost obese, with
hairless, pallid skin stretched taut over its bloated form.
The stench it emitted was unbearable, a putrid odor that
was like the smell of rotting flesh left out in the sun for
days. Its face was a horrifying
tableau. A pair of glazed over white eyes
stared blankly and a vertical mouth ran down, its distended
belly filled with jagged, misshapen teeth.
The oily Sheen of its skin glistened in the faint light.
I stood there frozen in terror as the grotesque creature began
to move toward me. With each step it took, I could
feel the ground trembling beneath its immense weight.
It stood at approximately 6 feet tall, and if I had to guess, it
must have weighed close to £1000.
The sheer presence of this abomination was overwhelming,
and I couldn't tear my eyes away from it when it locked its
lifeless, Milky eyes onto me. I knew I had to get out of there
and fast. Panic seized me and I turned and
sprinted back the way I had come.
What astonished me was how quickly the creature pursued me
for something of its size. It moved with an unnatural
swiftness, closing the distance between US and seconds.
Adrenaline surged through my veins as I desperately ascended
the stairs, the thundering footsteps of the grotesque
creature echoing behind me. Somehow, through sheer luck and
terror fueled determination, I made it out of the bunker and
slam the door shut. The creatures.
Monstrous appendages clawed at the entrance as I locked it from
the outside, and it's chilling. Inhuman howls sent shivers down
my spine. I fled from the forest as fast
as my legs could carry me, not daring to look back.
I never returned to that place, nor could I forget the
horrifying encounter in the depths of the earth.
To this day, I don't know what that abomination was or how it
came to be in that bunker. But one thing is certain.
I was not alone down there, and I pray that I never find myself
trapped in such a nightmarish place again.
The night was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth,
the kind of night that makes your skin prickle with a sense
of something just beyond the horizon.
Craig and I, we've always been night owls, our best
conversations unfolding under the veil of darkness.
There's something about the night, the way it strips away
the veneer of the day, revealing the raw, unvarnished truth.
We were cruising down the back roads of Josephine County, an
intricate web of two lane black tops that snaked through dense
forests and sleepy towns. Our destination nowhere in
particular. That's the beauty of our late
night drives. No destination, no plan, Just
the road, the radio and the company of a good friend.
Craig was at the wheel of his 79 Honda Accord, a car that had
seen better days but still had some life in her yet.
The dashboard was lit by the soft glow of the dials, casting
eerie shadows across Craig's face as he focused on the road.
The Honda hummed beneath us, a steady, comforting rhythm that
blended with the sounds of the night.
You ever think about how small we are in the grand scheme of
things? Craig mused, his eyes fixed on
the dark ribbon of road ahead. I leaned back in the passenger
seat, letting the question hang in the air.
Sometimes I replied. Nights like these, it's hard not
to out. Here it's just us and the stars.
We drove in companionable silence for a while, the only
sound, the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional rustle
of wildlife in the underbrush. The moon was a silver sliver in
the sky, casting a pale light over the landscape.
It was one of those nights that felt like it could stretch on
forever, a timeless void where anything seemed possible.
As the miles stretched on, I realized we were hopelessly
lost. Not that it mattered much.
Getting lost was half the fun, but when the fuel gauge started
edging towards empty, practicality won over adventure.
We should probably find a gas station soon, I suggested,
breaking the comfortable silence.
Craig nodded, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of
civilization. It wasn't long before we spotted
the faint glow of neon in the distance, a lone gas station
standing like a beacon in the night.
Craig eased the Honda into the gravel lot, the tires crunching
softly as we came to a stop. The gas station was a relic from
another time it's weathered facade.
Speaking of decades of service, the neon sign flickered
intermittently, casting a ghostly light over the pumps.
A single attendant, a kid no older than 20, was manning the
counter. Inside.
Craig and I stepped into the dimly lit shop, the bell above
the door announcing our arrival. The attendant looked up from his
magazine, a bored expression on his face.
Evening, fellas, He drawled, his gaze flicking over us with
disinterest. We're a bit lost, Craig
admitted, pulling out the worn map from the glove compartment.
Can you help us figure out where we are?
The kid let out a low chuckle, his eyes lighting up with a mix
of amusement and disdain. A paper map?
What is this, the 90s? He joked, but there was no
malice in his voice, just the casual ribbing of youth.
I shrugged off his comment, leaning over the counter to
spread the map out. We just need to know how to get
back to the main road. He sighed, but there was a spark
of curiosity in his eyes as he leaned in to study the map.
All right, let me see what I can do.
As he traced a route with his finger, I couldn't shake the
feeling that this was just the beginning of our adventure.
The night was still young and the road was calling.
The air had cooled carrying the whispers of the forest as we
left the gas station, our spirits buoyed by the kids
directions. Yet as we rolled back onto the
road a subtle shift in the night seemed to hang in the air,
attention almost imperceptible. But there none the less.
Craig's grip on the steering wheel tightened as we plunged
back into the abyss of the forest lined Rd.
The Honda's headlights carved out a tunnel of visibility in
the darkness, the rest of the world swallowed by the night.
You feel that? Greg asked, his voice low.
There was an edge to it, a hint of unease.
Yeah, I replied, unable to shake the sensation that we were not
alone in this nocturnal world. Like we're being watched.
We drove in silence, each lost in our thoughts, the only sound,
the steady thrum of the engine and the occasional rustle of
leaves in the gentle night breeze.
The world outside the car seemed to recede, leaving us in a
bubble of light and sound, hurtling through the dark.
Suddenly, Craig hit the brakes, the car jerking to a halt.
My heart leaped into my throat. What the hell, Craig?
There, he pointed to a shadowy figure looming on the road
ahead. It was a woman standing still as
a statue, her eyes fixed on our approaching car.
Her presence was jarring, a stark contrast to the empty Rd.
For a moment we sat in stunned silence, the woman's gaze boring
into us. Then, as suddenly as she had
appeared, she vanished into the darkness.
Did you see that? I asked, my voice barely a
whisper, my mind racing to make sense of what we just witnessed.
Craig nodded, his face pale in the dim light of the dashboard.
Yeah, I saw her. We got out of the car, the night
air cool against my skin. The forest seemed to close in
around us, the trees whispering secrets in the wind.
We searched the area where the woman had been, but there was no
trace of her. This doesn't make sense, I
muttered, more to myself than to Craig, who would be out here in
the middle of the night. We returned to the car, the
atmosphere charged with a palpable sense of dread.
The casual adventure of our night drive had taken a turn
into something else, something unexplainable.
As we resumed our journey, the road seemed to stretch on
endlessly, the trees blurring into a monotonous tunnel.
The sighting of the woman had left a mark on us, a lingering
unease that clung like a second skin.
The night had deepened, the moon now a distant, hazy orb in the
sky. We drove in silence, each lost
in our thoughts, the surreal encounter replaying in our
minds. The further we drove, the more
the night seemed to close in on us, the darkness becoming a
tangible presence. It was as if we had crossed into
a different world, one where the rules of reality no longer
applied. As the miles ticked by, a
chilling realization began to dawn on me.
We were no longer just lost in the back roads of Josephine
County. We were lost in something much
bigger, something that defied explanation, And the night, it
seemed, was far from over. The night had turned from a
canvas of stars to a suffocating cloak of darkness.
Craig's hands were clamped tight on the steering wheel, knuckles
white, as the Honda's headlights continued to slash through the
night. The ghostly encounter had shaken
us both, but the road kept unwinding under our wheels, a
relentless serpent in the dark. As we drove, a creeping
realization began to gnaw at the edges of my mind.
The landscape shrouded in darkness, seemed eerily
familiar. Craig.
I said, my voice laced with a growing unease.
Haven't we passed that same crooked street light before?
Craig shot me a glance, confusion and concern etching
his face. I I don't know, Maybe.
But deep down I knew we were driving in circles.
Or so it seemed. Every turn, every straight
stretch let us back to the same point, the solitary street light
casting its feeble glow on the sign that read golden 2 miles.
It was impossible, yet the reality was glaringly evident.
The sense of being trapped on this endless loop tightened its
grip on us, a nightmarish merry go round with no exit.
The repetitiveness of the landscape began to feel
claustrophobic, as if the night itself was playing tricks on us.
What's happening? Craig's voice was barely above a
whisper, strained with a cocktail of fear and disbelief.
I had no answers, only the oppressive weight of a situation
spiraling beyond our control. With each pass, the scenery
became more surreal, the air denser, as if we were driving
through a dream or a nightmare. And then there was the time I
glanced at my watch and my heart skipped a beat. 3:00 AM.
It had been 3:00 AM, the last time I checked, and the time
before that time itself seemed to have halted, suspended in
this loop of terror. Craig must have noticed it, too.
The clock. It's still 3:00 AM.
His voice cracked, the veneer of composure beginning to crumble
outside. The night seemed to thicken, the
darkness pressing in on us like a physical force.
With each loop, the presence of the spectral figures grew a
silent audience to our plight. They were shadows at first,
barely perceptible. But with each pass their numbers
seem to swell, their forms becoming more distinct, more
menacing. We were caught in a cycle we
couldn't escape, a loop that defied logic and reason.
The isolation of the road, once a source of freedom, now felt
like a prison. The car, our sanctuary, had
become a cell, hurtling through a landscape that refused to
change, refused to release us. A sense of hopelessness began to
settle over me, a chilling resignation to the bizarre and
unexplainable. I felt Craig's gaze on me,
searching for reassurance for a plan, but I had nothing to
offer, only the shared experience of this inexplicable
journey. As the street light loomed
again, casting its pallid light on the road, a deep, primal fear
took root. We were not alone in this loop.
Something was watching us, something that thrived in the
darkness, something that had ensnared us in this endless
cycle. The night stretched on, timeless
and unyielding, and with each pass under the streetlight, the
feeling of dread grew. We were trapped, caught in a
loop of terror, with no end insight.
The night had become a relentless entity, each loop
under that mocking street light, a tightening noose.
Craig's driving was mechanical now, each motion a reflection of
our despair. The Honda felt like a coffin on
wheels, carrying us deeper into an abyss we couldn't comprehend.
Something's very wrong, Craig muttered, his voice a hollow
echo of the man I knew. The road, with its repeating
landmarks, had transformed into a labyrinth with no exit.
The ghostly figures, now clearer with each loop, watched us with
silent, unnerving attention. A part of me wanted to scream,
to shatter the oppressive silence that had enveloped us.
But fear, thick and cloying, clamped down on my throat.
We were actors in a play whose script was written by the night
itself. Then, amidst the despair, a
spark of rebellion flared within me.
Stop the car, I said, my voice more forceful than I felt.
Craig looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.
What? Why?
We can't keep doing this. We need to confront whatever
this is. He hesitated, but the same
desperation that fueled my resolve must have echoed in him.
He pulled the car over, the gravel crunching under the
tires, breaking the night's oppressive silence.
We stepped out, the chill of the night wrapping around us.
The ghostly figures were there, at the edge of the headlights
reach a silent jury to our plight.
My heart pounded in my chest, a drum beat of primal fear.
Craig. I began, but a sudden
realization cut me off. Craig.
Why couldn't I remember picking him up?
Why was everything before the gas station a blur?
The question hung in the air, unanswered and heavy.
The world seemed to tilt, reality skewing into something
unrecognizable. The figures loomed closer, their
silence more threatening than any scream.
Are you scared? Craig's voice now devoid of any
emotion. He once had, sent a shiver down
my spine. It was like hearing a stranger
speak through the mouth of my friend.
I looked at him, really looked at him.
In the dim light, his features seem distorted, his smile too
wide, his eyes too dark. Fear gripped me, not just of the
situation, but of Craig himself. I backed away, my mind racing.
Everything felt wrong, disjointed.
The night, the looping Rd. the time standing still, and now
Craig or whoever he was. The realization struck me like a
physical blow. Craig was part of this
nightmare. I was alone in this twisted
reality, accompanied by a shadow wearing my friend's face.
Who are you? I whispered, my voice barely
audible. He didn't answer, just kept
smiling, that unnerving smile. I turned and ran, stumbling over
the rough ground, the darkness enveloping me.
I could hear him following his footsteps, a steady, unrelenting
rhythm ahead. The street light flickered, the
sign for golden, mocking me with its constancy.
I was running in circles, trapped in this nightmarish loop
with a creature that wore Craig's skin.
The terror of the realization was overwhelming.
I was lost in a night that had no end, accompanied by something
that was not my friend. The night had taken everything,
leaving me with only fear. In the chilling question, what
had happened to the real Craig? The hospital room was sterile
and impersonal, a stark contrast to the chaotic terror of that
endless night lying in the bed with the steady beep of the
heart monitor. As my only company, I replayed
the events over and over in my mind.
Each time the horror didn't diminish, it deepened.
The doctor said I was lucky to be alive.
Lucky. That word echoed hollowly in my
mind. I didn't feel lucky.
I felt haunted, tormented by memories and questions with no
answers. The police had been in and out,
their questions, probing. Their skepticism barely veiled.
I told them a version of the truth.
But how could I explain the unexplainable?
How could I tell them about the time loop, the spectral figures?
And most disturbingly about Craig.
Craig, the memory of his two wide smile, the darkness in his
eyes, it sent shivers down my spine.
I couldn't reconcile the image of that thing with the friend I
thought I knew. But then that was the crux of it
all, wasn't it? I couldn't remember picking him
up that night. I couldn't remember anything
about him before the gas station.
It was as if he had materialized from the night itself.
A phantom friend for a phantom journey.
A nurse came in to check on me, her smile warm but her eyes
distant. They all looked at me like that,
the staff, like I was a puzzle they couldn't quite solve.
I didn't blame them. I was a puzzle to myself.
After she left, I turned my attention to the window.
The world outside seemed normal, mundane, even.
Cars passed by. People went about their lives,
oblivious to the horrors that lurked in the shadows.
I envied them, their ignorance. My phone buzzed, a message
lighting up the screen. It was from Vanessa, my
girlfriend. Her words were a lifeline, a
connection to a world that made sense.
But as I read her message, my heart sank.
Darling. Who's Craig?
She asked that question. Three simple words sent a cold
dread coursing through me. Vanessa, the person who knew me
better than anyone, had no idea who Craig was.
It confirmed my worst fear. Craig wasn't real.
Or if he was, he wasn't who I thought he was.
I was left with more questions than answers.
Had Craig been a manifestation of the night, a figment born
from the darkness of those twisted back roads?
Or was he something more sinister, A malevolent force
that had chosen me for reasons I couldn't fathom?
I didn't know, And that not knowing was the worst part.
The doctor said I could go home soon, that my physical injuries
were healing nicely, but the scars that night left on my
mind, they were a different story.
They were deep, jagged, and I feared they might never heal.
As I lay there, staring out the window at the mundane world
beyond, I realized that some mysteries are better left
unsolved, some nights are better left unexplored, and some roads,
once taken, can change you forever.
The crisp autumn air tickled my face as I ventured deeper into
the vast wilderness of the backwoods in Virginia.
I had always found solace in the solitude of nature, but this
solo hiking trip was my escape from the chaos of the city.
Little did I know that this journey would turn sinister,
plunging me into a nightmarish world I could have never
imagined. As I tread along the narrow,
winding trail, a sense of unease settled over me.
It started as a subtle tingling in the back of my neck, a
fleeting whisper of a presence lurking just beyond my line of
sight. I shrugged it off as my mind
playing tricks on me, dismissing it as a byproduct of the eerie
atmosphere of the forest. But the feeling persisted,
growing stronger with each passing step.
It felt like unseen eyes were watching my every move, studying
my vulnerability. A shiver raced down my spine and
I couldn't shake the creeping sensation that I was being
stalked. I stopped in my tracks, my heart
pounding, and glanced around expecting to glimpse my pursuer.
However, the forest remained eerily still, not a single leaf
rustling and no sign of movement.
I reasoned that it must have been my overactive imagination,
fuelled by the stories I'd heard countless times on the Internet
and the local folklore about these woods.
I figured these were mere figments of my subconscious,
determined to shake off my unfounded fear as I continued my
hike, quickening my pace and putting distance between myself
and whatever oppressive presence might be following me.
The relentless feeling of being haunted clung to me like a
suffocating shadow. With each passing minute it
intensified, driving me to the edge of paranoia.
I decided to take a break and gather my composure.
I found a fallen log near a trickling stream and sat down,
trying to catch my breath. The forest's silence weighed
heavily upon me, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and
the distant hoot of an owl. I scanned my surroundings, my
eyes darting from tree to tree, expecting to see the lurking
figure, but nothing revealed itself.
Suddenly I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my
eye, a fleeting shadow darting between the trees.
My heart skipped a beat as I leaped to my feet, adrenaline
surging through my veins. I called out, my voice
trembling. Is someone there?
Silence greeted my words. Mocking my unease, I convinced
myself that it was just a woodland creature scurrying
away. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yet my trepidation persisted, urging me to investigate
further. With a deep breath, I ventured
off the trail, pushing through the underbrush towards where I
had seen the shadow figure. The forest grew denser, its
embrace growing tighter, as if it was warning me to turn back.
But for some strange reason, almost like I was possessed, I
pressed on. My curiosity fueled by fear and
determination. Minutes turned into hours as I
trudge deeper into the wilderness.
The foliage grew thicker, casting elongated shadows that
danced around me. The oppressive silence was
broken only by the rhythmic thump of my heartbeat.
My senses were on high alert, every rustle of the leaves and
distant crack of branches echoing like an alarm in my
mind. Then, as if emerging from a
twisted nightmare, I stumbled upon a clearing, a macabre
tableau frozen in time. The ground was littered with
decaying carcasses, the rotting flesh picked clean by
scavengers. The stench of death filled the
air, suffocating and repulsive, My stomach turned, threatening
to unleash its contents. I gasped in horror, recoiling as
I recognize the gruesome truth. These were not the remains of
animals. They were human.
A wave of nausea crashed over me, Pile rose in my throat.
The magnitude of the horror before me was incomprehensible.
How could this be? Who could have done such a
thing? A noise behind me shattered, the
silence, wrenching me from my shock induced stupor.
I spun around, my heart pounding in my ears, only to come face to
face with the source of my terror.
It stood there, towering over me, a monstrous figure covered
in tattered rags, its grotesque face hidden beneath a mask of
stitched together flesh. Fear paralyzed my every muscle
as I found myself trapped in its gaze.
It had lifeless eyes. Its mouth was opened, emitting
an otherworldly hiss that seemed to penetrate my very soul.
My mind reeled, unable to comprehend the nightmarish
entity before me. With unholy speed, the creature
lunged towards me, jagged claws reaching out to tear me apart.
At that moment, pure instinct took over and I sprinted away,
my legs pumping with desperate adrenaline.
The forest became a blur of shapes and colors as I raced
through the undergrowth, desperate to escape the clutches
of this abomination. My heart pounded in my chest, my
breath coming in ragged gasps as I sprinted back toward the
trail. The creatures, blood curdling
screams echoed behind me, growing more distant with every
step. I dared not stop.
I dared not look back, afraid. It's horrifying Visage would
haunt my dreams forever. Finally, I burst out onto the
trail, gasping for air, my body drenched in sweat.
I stumbled forward, propelled by sheer willpower, until I reached
the safety of my car. With trembling hands, I fumble
for the keys and slammed the door shut, locking myself in the
sanctuary of the vehicle. I peered through the windshield,
scanning the tree line, half expecting the creature to emerge
from the shadows at any moment, but it remained hidden within
the forest depths, its malice lurking in the darkness.
As I drove away, my mind was a whirlwind of terror and
disbelief. I knew the horrors I had
witnessed would forever haunt me.
Virginia's backwoods held ancient and evil secrets that
were better left undisturbed, and as long as that creature
roamed freely, I could never be sure it wouldn't find me again
lurking in the shadows waiting to claim its next victim.
About four years ago, on an abnormally cold day in
Louisiana, I found myself shivering in the low 20 degree
weather. The carbon dioxide escaped my
lips like cigarette smoke as I sighed, desperately trying to
stay warm beneath 2 heavy coats and various layers of clothing.
School had been long and tiring and all I wanted was to escape
the chill and reach the comfort of my home.
As I walked out of the school gate, I couldn't help but feel
an eerie sensation. The school was surrounded by a
somewhat dense forest, and I always had this nagging feeling
that I was never truly alone, that unseen eyes were watching
my every move. My house was a good 30 to 40
minutes away, and I followed the same path through the woods that
I always did. The sun was setting, casting an
ominous darkness over the trees. Suddenly a blood curdling scream
pierced the air echoing through the forest.
It had been about 20 minutes since I started my journey, and
the rapidly fading light made me uneasy.
Then a foul stench filled the air, the putrid scent of
something rotten. I almost tripped over an
obstacle in my path, and when I looked down, my stomach churned
in revulsion. Before me lay the horrifically
mangled remains of a man who had gone missing just a few days
prior. I froze, unable to move, and my
eyes darted wildly in all directions.
The same screech echoed once more, but this time it was
closer than before. Panic gripped me as I heard the
spine chilling sound of leaves and sticks crunching not far
from where I stood. Out of nowhere, the temperature
inexplicably spiked, transforming the freezing cold
into what felt like sweltering summer heat reaching almost 110
degrees Fahrenheit. Fear course through me as I
began to walk faster, my heart pounding.
I had a constant feeling that something was watching me, and
in a moment of sheer terror, I glanced over my shoulder.
In the dimming light I caught a glimpse of it, a colossal
figure, at least 8 feet tall. And it was fast.
Impossibly fast. I let out an involuntary scream
and broke into a Sprint. But my terror induced haste led
me to trip over the gnarled roots of a tree.
My right leg twisted gruesomely upon impact, and the pain was
excruciating. As I lay on the ground, I saw
those eyes. They were pitch black, glowing
yellow with jet black Viper pupils.
I couldn't tear my gaze away from them, even though every
instinct in my body scream to run.
The creature was approximately 15 feet away from me, and it's
dark Crimson form emerged from the shadows.
It had two pairs of blood Red Wings, the upper ones massive,
while the lower ones were shorter and thinner.
Long black hair cascaded from its head and two curved Crimson
horns adorned its forehead. A sinuous Crimson tail flicked
menacingly through the air, and instead of fingers, it had
clawed talons. But the most horrifying aspect
of this nightmarish creature was its unholy grin, a grin that
seemed to stretch from ear to ear, revealing teeth that were
grotesquely huge, resembling kitchen knives.
I could only guess that those teeth were at least a foot long.
They looked sharp enough to tear through flesh with ease before I
could even think to take a picture.
It vanished with incredible speed, pulling the air with it.
I managed to push through the pain and started limping away,
but my right leg was mangled and the bone protruded through my
torn flesh. As I struggled, I suddenly found
myself face to face with the creature.
It had silently approached, grabbed me, and hoisted me into
the air. The stench of decay washed over
me, and I gagged at the noxious odor.
I was 13 at the time and I couldn't help but cry and sob,
tears streaming down my face. The creature, perhaps sensing my
fear or desperation, cocked its head and placed a burning hot
stone like finger to my trembling lips.
Everything went black. When I regained consciousness I
found myself standing at my own front door, utterly confused.
I scanned my surroundings and with dread realized that those
same glowing eyes were watching me from the bushes in my garden.
As soon as I saw them, they vanished into the darkness.
Looking down at my leg, I was astounded to find it had
miraculously returned to normal, but upon closer inspection, I
noticed a huge symbol carved into my knee.
I couldn't comprehend what I had experienced that day, but it
haunted me enough to inspire countless terrifying short
stories ever since. It was around the year 2010,
when I was 9 or 10 years old, and I found myself recalling a
memory that I had somehow forced myself to forget.
The events of that evening were so damn creepy that they had
remained locked away in the recesses of my mind.
As I looked back on it, I couldn't shake the unsettling
feeling that had haunted me since that night.
The setting was a lovely summer evening in the Midwest.
My friend, whom I'll refer to as Chase for this story, had
invited me and two other neighborhood friends over for a
sleepover. We were at that age where adult
supervision was becoming more lenient, and Chase's house was
the perfect spot for unsupervised shenanigans.
Chase's house stood out prominently in our neighborhood.
It sat on top of a hill with a gated driveway and a vast yard
that surrounded the house, stretching into a wooded area
that eventually led to a state forest.
Chase's parents were relatively older, in their late 50s, while
most of our parents were in their 30s or early 40s.
His father was paralyzed from the waist down due to his
service in the Gulf War and required caretakers.
His mother, a business executive, was often out of
town. Chase's only sibling had already
moved out for college by then, so whenever we hung out there,
there were rarely any eyes on us.
We never did anything wrong, mind you, but we engaged in the
typical activities kids our age would.
We'd shoot airsoft guns, experiment with crazy seasonings
and instant ramen, stay up late playing M rated video games, all
that good stuff. On that particular night, Chase
had the idea to set up a tent in the woods and camp out.
While none of us were particularly enthusiastic about
it, we agreed on the condition that we could quickly access the
house for bathroom breaks and snacks.
We set up the tent, laid out our sleeping bags, grabbed as much
junk food as we could carry, and settled in for the night.
We goofed around for a few hours after the sunset, our sugar high
induced antics only ceasing when the unhealthy snacks began to
take their toll, and one by one we fell asleep.
I was usually the first to doze off at sleepovers and this night
was no exception. However, my sleep was brief.
I was abruptly awakened by someone shaking me in the pitch
black darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I saw the
concerned look on my friend's face before I could scold him
for waking me. He whispered.
Do you hear that? I sat up cautiously and strained
my ears to listen. There it was, a haunting, drawn
out whistle. It echoed through the night,
each note breathy and elongated, even recalling it now send
shivers down my spine. The sound wasn't particularly
close, but it wasn't too far away either.
My expression must have turned to horror because my friend woke
up. Our other friend.
We all sat in silence, listening intently, trying to pinpoint the
direction of the eerie whistling.
Could it have been coming from the house?
Perhaps one of Chase's dad's caretakers had decided to stay
the night, but that was highly unlikely.
In fact, it had never happened before.
It didn't take long for us to realize that the source of the
whistling was within the woods, and it was gradually getting
closer to us. With that realization, panic set
in. We wasted no time.
In less than 15 seconds, we had our shoes on and we're sprinting
to the front porch, leaving everything behind in the tent.
Snacks, pillows, sleeping bags, DS consoles.
We dared not return under the harsh illumination of the
driveway's lights, which resembled a mini parking lot.
As we huddled together on the front porch, we suddenly felt a
surge of new found confidence. We convinced ourselves that we
weren't scared and grabbed our airsoft guns from the garage.
We crouched behind some trash cans, taking shots into the
woods and yelling like a bunch of idiots, attempting to
intimidate or fend off whoever or whatever was out there.
But as we listened intently, the woods remained silent.
Eventually, our bravado waned and the adrenaline rush
subsided. We decided it was safe enough to
return to the house and sleep on the living room floor after
playing a bit of Xbox. That night was undeniably
creepy, but it was nothing compared to what would transpire
the following day. When we woke up, we began
discussing the events of the previous night.
Acknowledging how eerie everything had been in the broad
daylight, we mustered the courage to make our way back
down to the tent. As we got closer, something
immediately struck us as off. The tent had been completely
trashed, the tarp that had been securely tied to everything else
had been violently ripped off, One corner of the tent had caved
in as if someone had broken it, and the tent poles appeared to
be bent in half In several places Our snacks had been
dumped out and seemingly stomped on, and several of the sleeping
bags and pillows had been flung into the woods and cut open.
To make matters worse, Chase's DS console had been snapped in
half and the side of the tent had been sliced open with
multiple deep slits as though someone had gone on a stabbing
frenzy. We were all in shock, our
previous bravado reduced to silence, despite our earlier
boasts about confronting whatever was in the woods the
night before. The four of us quickly packed up
the tent, salvaging what we could, and brought it back to
the house. We assume Chase's family would
never use that tent again, and that they would simply purchase
a new one, given their more affluent status compared to the
rest of us. After that sleepover, our group
of friends naturally drifted apart.
It was the end of the summer before our fifth grade year.
Chase went on to attend a private middle school while the
rest of us attended a public one where we were sorted into
different cliques. I never thought about that
incident again until recently, when I ran into one of my other
friends while visiting my hometown.
We exchanged numbers, and it was only after seeing a Reddit
thread about sharing scary stories on a channel called Just
Creepy that these memories came rushing back to me.
I felt compelled to share this story, because no matter how
many times I think about it, something still feels profoundly
unsettling.