For tonight's episode, we are diving into the deep woods for
some scary encounters sent in from viewers like you.
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notifications if you like scary stories.
I appreciate your support. I'll introduce you to Magic Mind
a bit later in the episode. It's this awesome drink that
makes you more productive. Now let's dive into some scary
deep woods horror stories. I've always loved my job as a
landscaper or lawn care specialist.
I make my own hours, get to work outdoors, and best of all, I get
to embrace my passion. I view lawn care as much more of
an art form like architecture because No2 trees, lawns, hedges
or ponds are the same. When you're a landscaper you
basically take the nature equivalent of raw material and
crafted into something unique. That's why I view it more like
an art form than just cutting the grass.
And there is no telling what you may encounter while working.
I thought I knew that until my last job.
By far the busiest times of year in this line of work are spring
and fall. Spring because after winter the
grass and plants are finally starting to bloom and need tons
of attention, especially because of the frequent rain.
And fall because it's the final bit of time to keep an eye on
things before the months long. Cold of winter makes my job
irrelevant. I'm usually pretty busy in the
summer depending on the weather because I either have to work
hard to make sure grass on lawns doesn't dry out in the heat, or
there is no shortage of lawns to mow if it's a rainy summer.
But fall also means that in addition to the usual
landscaping tasks, there are leaves to rake, which was just
fine with me. I've always loved raking leaves
as I find it calming and the vivid colors on the trees give
you plenty to look at while you're working.
Most of my clients are long time ones, so much so that we can
communicate in what is essentially shorthand.
But of all my customers, my favorite land to work belongs to
Mr. and Missus Allen. They have a large stone house
with double doors and blue shutters, and the property is
set on 7 acres with a solid blend of all kinds of trees,
lots of pine trees and plenty of beautiful Maple and other trees
that shed their leaves come fall, and I was due there for a
job on a lovely October afternoon.
It was a short drive there, and on the way I passed numerous
storefronts with orange lights or cobwebs in the windows before
I arrived at the Allen's neighborhood.
It's filled with people who are actually pretty cool and
friendly. That's one reason the
neighborhood is one of the most prized places to go trick or
treating around here. All the houses are spaced pretty
close together, there's plenty of sidewalks, and the homeowners
get really into the holiday spirit.
All down the street were houses decorated in their own unique
ways. One was covered with cobwebs and
a giant spider, while others were filled with a cemetery, an
open coffin, and a collection of monsters.
Mr. and Missus Allen kept it simple, with plenty of orange
lights, pumpkins and some dried corn stalks arranged around the
garage. Once I parked in the driveway, I
got out of my truck, got everything ready and got started
on my job. First I mowed the front lawn.
There is nothing like the smell of freshly cut grass on a
refreshing fall morning, and when that was done, it was time
for me to take care of the leaves.
It was early October and the trees in the backyard were only
beginning to shed their leaves, so raking them all out from
under the trees where the mower couldn't get them only took
about half an hour and all of them could fit into a small
pile. The Allens always like me to
mulch their leaves, which works for me.
So I got the mower ready and methodically went about turning
the leaves in the backyard into tiny piles that wouldn't cover
the grass. When I was done, the smell of
leaves coated the air. Also on the schedule today was
for me to plant some mums, which was always a big request for me
once Fall arrived. When that was all said and done,
I went home and had a grilled cheese sandwich and some soup
for lunch. Several days later I had an
appointment with the Sullivan family, who lived next door to
the Allens, so I went right on schedule and took care of their
lawn. They generally had less trees in
their backyard than the Allen house, but they were bigger and
their leaves were generally falling at a faster rate.
There was a bit of fog that morning that hung thickly in the
air, and when I arrived I could see the grass and the leaves
scattered on it were soaked with dew.
The Sullivans liked me to use a leaf blower and bag up their
leaves, so that task quickly took up two hours.
As I worked, I could see the one tree that was technically on the
Allen property but would occasionally drop leaves on the
Sullivan property. Thankfully, it wasn't a big
deal. The two families got along great
and had been friendly for decades.
I've met far too many families where a leaf falling on their
property from a tree that wasn't theirs was a huge problem.
Farther down in the yard, Mr. Sullivan was reading a book by
his fire ring, which had a fire lit in it and was crackling
along in the gentle breeze. The smell from it casually
billowed my way and made the fall air with the crisp breeze
and earthy smell of leaves that much more invigorating.
Definitely a pleasant atmosphere to finish my work in.
The next day was one of those rainy October days where you can
feel that fall has arrived. It was Gray and rainy all day,
and everywhere I drove you could see evidence that the steady
rain had caused numerous trees everywhere to shed leaves that
had thus far managed to stay on the branches.
Although I spent the day indoors watching scary movie marathons,
I was mentally gearing up for the inevitable post rainstorm
calls that would arrive as soon as things dried up.
Sure enough, the very next day the calls came in to repair one
thing or another and out I went to tidy things up.
No matter how old I get, it never ceases to amaze me.
The difference just a few days can make for how fall can look
and feel. The color creeping into the
trees was much more noticeable, with a particularly vivid red
making itself known on a tree in the Allen Yard that I could spot
when I drove past it later that week, there was a nasty storm
with intense rain and wind that caused numerous trees to fall,
which meant I was constantly being called out to help get rid
of tree limbs that had been snapped off in the wind or help
cut up trees that had broken in half or been uprooted.
One of the many trees damaged by the wind was one of the massive
ones in the Sullivan's yard. Once I arrived, I took out the
necessary equipment and carefully went to work on the
fallen tree limb. It was a massive branch, but
steadily the fallen limb became a pile of firewood.
As I worked under the bright blue sky.
I worked until the sun started to dip behind the orange and red
foliage. As I finished up, the sun was
slowly descending and the mellow autumn light was peeking out
from the gaps in the trees, a sight I never get tired of.
I had just finished up with one section and was heading to the
other side of the yard to get the last bit of tree that had
fallen. The final bit of fallen tree was
right in the middle of the yard where the surface was flat.
As I stepped on it I could tell how soft and wet the ground
still was, but as I took another step I felt something snap and
before I knew what was happening I was falling through the earth.
Moments later pain shot through my body as I landed on rocky
ground. I waited for a moment before
getting up. Fortunately, I always keep a
tool belt filled with tools on me whenever I work, so I quickly
removed a flashlight and switched it on.
Thankfully it worked. I checked my phone, which was
fine, but there was no service down here.
But I was able to shine my flashlight up and see the hole I
had fallen through. Thanks to the rain, the soil had
thinned out and revealed that right under that section of the
Sullivan's yard was the entrance to a tunnel that someone had
placed a board over. No doubt all the years of rain
and other types of weather had worn it down, so that by the
time of the recent heavy rain it had been ready to crack.
When I stepped right on it, Oh well, nothing I could do about
it now. The Sullivans were out for the
evening, which meant I had no reason to stick around and try
to get their attention, especially since there was no
way for me to climb out of the way I'd fallen in.
So that meant I had to follow the small tunnel I found myself
in. It was big enough for me to
stand in and in reasonably good condition.
No signs of a cave in. I could feel how the chill had
soaked into the earth as I kept walking.
There was no telling where I was going or what I would find.
All I could do to get out was keep going forward.
Several minutes later the tunnel opened into a cavern and I
realized I was in an abandoned mine.
The tools and cart left behind were the giveaway.
It wasn't exactly a surprise. I've lived in Pennsylvania my
whole life, and there are old mines everywhere and I've been
in several of them before, so I wasn't exactly shocked or afraid
as I followed it along. After the work on the Sullivan
yard and the amount of walking I'd done to get this far, I
could feel how my body was soaked with sweat under my
jacket. But the air here wasn't as
chilly as it was above ground, so that helped cool me down at
least somewhat. Eventually the tunnel I was
walking in narrowed a bit and the intense darkness of the mine
began to fade. Then the tunnel got lighter and
lighter until I was facing a small ladder built into the
cavern wall that went up, and beyond that there was light
coming from somewhere above. I switched off my flashlight and
carefully climbed the old wooden steps, silently hoping they
wouldn't give. They held just fine, and when I
pulled myself up the last step, I found myself facing a small
opening in the rock wall that I could just barely fit through.
That was where the light had been coming from.
I took a deep breath and carefully step through it.
As I did. I could smell the fresh air and
relief flooded through my body, but that was immediately
followed by confusion. On the other side of the
opening, in the rock wall was a wide stretch of open space that
was surrounded by trees. From the outside, the rock wall
looked like a small remnant of a quarry built into the earth, but
the open space wasn't exactly open because it was filled with
RV's. But they were not all of a
similar type like you would expect in a standard storage
space. Far from it, as it seemed like
every possible model or design was here.
Giant RV's and tiny ones. Ones that looked older than I
was. Ones that look brand new, ones
that you could see at any campground and ones you never
saw aside from an old vintage family home movies.
I slowly started walking through the rows of vehicles.
They seem to go on forever, and it wasn't long before I had the
sensation that I was lost in some kind of endless labyrinth.
It was night time by now, and my small flashlight was the only
source of light. I was walking on cement, which
meant that there were no footprints I could follow, but
the upside was that I didn't have to worry about leaving them
either. As I kept walking on the cement,
I remembered that there used to be a factory somewhere around
here and it was demolished years ago.
I guess the floor was all that was left.
Seeing all the R VS sitting there silent and abandoned was
downright creepy, especially because this wasn't some
brightly lit warehouse. This was outside in the dark,
and the faint light from my flashlight dancing over the
various vehicles gathered here made it all the more unnerving.
There was something seriously not right about all this.
For starters, it wasn't like this was an actual storage space
for a business that sold them. I'd heard of graveyards for
ships, to say nothing of junk yards, but not RV's.
And it wasn't like all these RV's were situated in a public
space where anyone could come and look.
No, these were hidden away in a place people didn't come
looking, and I had no doubt it was for a reason.
For a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe this was part of some
haunted attraction for the Halloween season.
But I know all the haunted houses around and there was
nothing like this. Plus, there were no Halloween
decorations around and these giant luxury RV's were not the
type to be used in a haunted house.
So the only idea left was that something was up here.
And it wasn't good. Especially because as I took a
closer look at all the RV's assembled here, it was clear
that for all their differences, they had something in common.
They had all sustained some kind of small damage.
One vintage RV had a broken front window while I saw a
smashed in side door on one of the giant expensive RV's.
And the list went on and on. The site of a windshield on a
relatively new one that had been completely destroyed sent a
particular chill up my spine. If all these RV's had sustained
damage, then the logical thing that should have happened was
for them to be repaired and returned.
None of the damage I could see made them uninhabitable.
As someone who maintains people's property as his job,
none of this seemed right. I slowly walked on, trying to
get my bearings. The space seemed endless and I
carefully wandered along, looking at everything until I
passed an average modern RV that I've seen plenty of my friends
use on vacation. As I passed the door, I shined
my flashlight and the beam of light highlighted that something
was on the door's window. I paused for a closer look and
saw that it looked like a handprint, and it was made by
what looked just like blood. The sight made my stomach sick
with fear. Now there was no doubt I needed
to get out of here and fast. Almost as if on cue, I heard a
sound from far off in the distance, and from all the time
spent in nature, I could tell it was a car driving on gravel.
Ignoring the fear gripping my stomach, I looked at my
surroundings. Some of these RV's, superficial
dents aside, were beyond well built.
So well built that someone stuck inside would not be able to get
out easily if the door was blocked.
And I had plenty of small landscaping tools still on my
belt that I could easily jam a door handle if I was able to
trick whoever was out there inside the RV.
So I took a deep breath, switched off my flashlight, and
put together a plan. I had several minutes, but not
much more. Whoever was out there would most
likely go up and down the rows of RV's looking for anything out
of place. Naturally, an open door would
signal that something was amiss and should be checked.
Once the person driving was well inside the RV, I could slam the
door shut and jam it so there would be no getting out.
It was as good a plan as any, and I had to act fast.
Thankfully, it wasn't hard to decide on an RV.
One of the giant, expensive luxury vehicles was the way to
go, but even in the dim light, the vehicle's interior was
beyond impressive when I briefly checked it.
No doubt no expense had been spared from the interior's
comfort to the basic strength of the vehicle, which included
windows, all of which were in perfect condition without a
single scratch on them. The RV also had the perfect main
door with a metal handle similar to a refrigerators.
If I were to put my small trowel from my belt inside the handles
space when the door was closed, it would jam the door perfectly
and it was the only door in and out of the vehicle, No normal
doors to the front or passenger seat.
I also was beyond thankful that this RV, like several on
display, were built with plenty of space for me to crawl under
and wait. So once I had carefully opened
the door to lure in whoever was out here with me, I removed the
small trowel from my belt and crawled under the middle of the
RV as quietly as possible and waited.
All those years crawling around bushes and hedges would
definitely come in handy now as I ducked under the bumper and
stared up at the RVI had barely gotten in place when I heard the
tires on gravel stop. Then all was quiet while I was
alone with my thoughts. The silence in the space was so
thick it was unpleasant, and I felt like my heart was thudding
painfully loud as I tried to listen.
After what felt like an hour, I heard it, the sound of quiet
footsteps coming my way. I swallowed thickly as I
listened and got ready to act. As soon as it was time, the
footsteps quietly shuffled around before they arrived at
the RV I was hidden under. As the footsteps got closer, I
could tell whoever they belong to was carrying a flashlight as
well, as the beam slowly bobbed along to remind me someone was
getting closer until the beam was right beside me.
I couldn't see who the footsteps belong to or make out any
details aside from some basic black leather boots, but as they
moved one step closer, I could faintly see the figures outline
in the reflection from one of the R VS tire rims, and I could
see they were wearing a belt with a large knife on it.
My throat clenched as I stared at them from no more than a few
feet away. The stranger was painfully close
as I laid there and silently willed whoever was out there to
just take the few steps inside the RV, and moments later the
adrenaline in my body kicked up a notch as the boots walked the
few steps forward into the open RV.
I could feel the RV moving slightly under the weight of its
new occupant as the stranger climbed aboard, stepped inside,
and slowly began to look around. Despite the fear churning in my
stomach, I did feel better that the stranger didn't immediately
summon a friend of his who had driven here with him when he saw
the open RV door. That meant this was the only
other person here. So once the figure slowly
started walking towards the bathroom and master bedroom in
the back of the RV, that was time for me to climb out and
spring into action. With my heart pounding harder
than ever before in my life, I crept out from under the RV,
took the trowel in hand, and gently grabbed the door handle
while listening carefully. Whoever was in there had no idea
I was out there, as I could feel the weight of footsteps in the
back bedroom, so I carefully closed the door, which closed
with a quiet click before I immediately jammed the trowel in
the handle and made sure it was stuck.
It was the stranger inside had no idea what happened, but it
didn't take whoever was inside long to realize something had
happened, because moments later footsteps were hastily walking
towards the door before there was weight pushing on it from
the other side. It didn't give an inch, and some
faint relief flooded through my body.
I crept quietly away as whoever was trapped inside tried to
apply more pressure to the door, and nothing changed.
As I put more distance between the RV and myself, I thought I
could hear a muffled yell from inside, but that was it.
I didn't stop walking, and before long I had reached the
other side of the open space and found myself facing a wall of
trees. There was still no sign that
whoever was stuck in the RV had managed to make any progress at
all. With that hopeful thought, I
took several more steps and finally reached the part of the
woods that was well on the other side from where I had climbed
out of the abandoned mine. When I finally walked through
the trees and was lost in the moments later, I finally felt
somewhat better, but I kept my flashlight off to avoid being
detected, and I carefully crept along, listening carefully for
any sound of movement or voices. As I continued along, walking in
the trees, I heard a second vehicle roaring up from the
other side of the area. I immediately ducked behind a
tree and turned to watch. Someone had driven into the area
via a truck, and the driver wasted no time getting out and
racing into the vast collection of RV's, their shoes echoing
loudly on the hard floor. I had a pretty good idea what
would happen next, and I was right, because although I
couldn't see anything yet, I could hear the RV door being
yanked open before it was slammed shut.
Then when both people walk, quickly back towards the truck
which still had its headlights on.
I could see, and I got a good look at the person who
unknowingly walked right past me.
He was a tall guy, muscular, and if I had to guess I'd say mid
30s. His associate fit the same
description. What happened?
One of them asked the other. I don't know.
I went inside to see what made the door open and before I knew
it, it was sealed shut and I couldn't get out.
Just like I told you. Well, it was sealed shut with
this. I could faintly see him holding
up my trowel that was available at any store for a few bucks,
and there's no telling who's responsible for it and where
they are. We'll just have to take it from
here, right then. I watched as they both got in
the truck and roared out of there in the opposite direction
from me. I let out a deep breath before I
kept walking. I knew I would eventually reach
a road, but every step was tinged with nerves as I half
expected someone lurking behind a tree to reach out and attack
me. But after about two hours I
managed to reach a road without incident and when I saw it I
finally had reception to call for help.
I immediately told the police what I'd seen and they
dispatched someone to find me. While the dispatcher stayed on
the line with me, and I'd never been more relieved in my life
than when I saw the flashing lights of the police car coming
towards me, I described the general direction I had come
from, but it didn't take long for the cops to find the place
because after I left someone had set fire to all the RV's and
before long everything there was burning intensely and the smoke
was visible for miles. They had to bring in a massive
team of firefighters to calm the blaze down and they were able to
get the fire under control in time for the cops to find out
that all the RV's that hadn't been totally burned, we're all
listed as missing along with their owners.
The cases involved spanned many years and every region of the
country. After some time the cops were
able to use some of what was found at the RV collection to
aid in solving some missing persons cases, but there was
never any lead on who was responsible for it, nor did they
ever figure out what the specific motivation was.
As for me, I'll always be extra careful where I step while on a
landscaping job from now on. The Sullivans felt horrible when
they heard what happened and gave me a huge bonus for my work
that day. They were even gracious enough
to invite me over for when they gave out Halloween candy.
Since they stuck to sitting out on the front porch with some hot
apple cider, I happily accepted. Before we go to the next scary
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20. After high school I found myself
adrift, uncertain about my future.
With no clear direction, I made a decision that would shape my
life in unimaginable ways. I joined the Navy.
Over time, I became a corpsman attached to a unit of Marines
stationed in the challenging terrain of Afghanistan.
It was a life of duty and service, but it gave me purpose.
Once my time with the Navy was up, I decided to further my
education and embarked on a journey to earn my EMT
certifications and eventually my paramedic qualifications.
College life had its own surprises in store for me.
As I met an incredible girl who would become my girlfriend.
Our connection grew stronger, and not long after we moved in
together, it seemed like the beginning of a beautiful
chapter, a loving family, just as my father had before me.
However, life took an unexpected turn.
Time flew by, and before I knew it, three years had passed.
None of the dreams I had cherished had materialized.
Our relationship slowly deteriorated, leading to a
heartbreaking breakup. I felt like a failure, unable to
follow in my father's footsteps as a devoted husband and father
in my professional life. As a paramedic, I managed to
stay focused on my work, providing care and assistance to
those in need. But it was in my free time that
the emptiness became most apparent.
I needed a distraction, something to fill the void left
by the failed relationship. After careful consideration, I
stumbled upon a volunteer search and rescue organization in my
area. Upon reaching out to them, they
welcomed me with open arms. I wholeheartedly embraced this
new opportunity. In many ways it reminded me of
my military days venturing into the wilderness to help people in
trouble. I grew fond of this work and
even aspired to make it a full time career.
When the opportunity arose, my ex had become a distant memory,
no longer haunting my thoughts. But now let's shift focus to why
I'm here. Today, it's not uncommon for
citizens to report strange encounters with people
exhibiting bizarre behavior. Sometimes it's a simple case,
like a concerned individual encountering an armed hiker.
However, the situation I'm about to describe was far more
unsettling. I was idly passing time at home
when my boss called. A sheriff's deputy had received
a call from a woman who had been walking her dog on public land.
She had encountered a man on the trail who initially seemed
normal. However, their conversation took
a disturbing turn. The man claimed he was being
pursued by a group of men who had been chasing him for over
100 miles. He appeared genuinely terrified.
According to the lady, the man wore a backpack and clean,
expensive outdoor clothing, giving no indication of
homelessness or intoxication. She had tried to persuade him to
accompany her to the Sheriff's Office, but he vanished When she
momentarily turned away. Concerned, she reported the
incident to the sheriff, who believed our specialized skills
were needed to handle this situation.
The search operation didn't commence until the following
morning. We quickly picked up the man's
trail, which showed signs of distress.
It didn't take long to catch up to him, but what we discovered
was far from the happy ending we had hoped for.
He had apparently taken his own life during the night.
His trail had led to the edge of a sheer Cliff with a drop of
1000 feet. Some of us retrieved his body,
bringing the search to a grim conclusion.
I returned to the top to collect some of his personal belongings.
It was then that our head tracker, Jack caught my
attention. He was kneeling a few yards
away, gazing intently at something and muttering to
himself. Approaching him, he directed my
attention to the ground. At first, nothing seemed out of
the ordinary, but as I continued to look, something peculiar
emerged. The dry dirt appeared to have
been swept in a manner resembling the work of a broom
or tree limb. What really caught my eye
though, was the edge of a boot print.
Everything except the heel had been swept away.
Jack motioned me over to a small tree with a broken stump where a
limb had once been. He pointed at it and I nodded in
recognition. I began searching for the
recently broken limb, quickly locating it carelessly tossed in
some bushes. Jack gestured for me to follow
him to the cliffs edge. Standing there, peering back at
the trail now illuminated by the bright daylight, the pieces of
the puzzle began to fall into place.
We could see the trail clearly up to the edge, marked by
visible sweep marks. Oddly, the only remaining tracks
were ours. It was as if someone had made a
hasty effort to conceal their presence, and in doing so had
made a significant mistake. Perhaps you've already deduced
it, but here's the glaring question.
Why would a man whose tracks had been visible for miles suddenly
vanish about 30 yards from the edge of a Cliff, the very same
Cliff from which he supposedly jumped?
There was no alternate path leading to the edge, and we
meticulously checked every possible direction.
We were left with more questions than answers.
I turned to Jack seeking clarification, but his response
was far from satisfying. I'm not really sure, he
admitted, but I find it hard to believe that the boy could have
leaped from here to there. We decided to keep this
unsettling discovery to ourselves, not wanting to
inflict undue stress on the young man's loved ones with a
bizarre conspiracy theory. Even now, I can't arrive at a
definitive conclusion about what transpired that day.
Had I not noticed the partial heel print and the missing
tracks, I might have dismissed it as a peculiar but ultimately
in significant detail. While I do have my own theories,
I'll keep them close to my chest.
After all, sharing thoughts of aliens or the paranormal would
likely be met with ridicule. They say that the most logical
answer is usually the most likely.
So I pose this question to you. What seems like the most logical
explanation for this perplexing incident?
I've always been someone who loved the outdoors.
Even as a kid growing up in a small city, my parents would
have to yell my name from the porch to get me to come in at
night. I grew up in a time when the
Internet was still a relatively new thing and you had to use
dial up to get connected. Now, some of you hearing this
can probably hear the sound just by me mentioning dial up.
Anyway, the story I'm about to share takes place about 10 to 11
years ago. I was with my girlfriend at the
time, who I met in college. Our relationship was serious,
but it wasn't without its ups and downs to be honest.
It was full of childish drama and I was super immature at that
point. We had made plans to attend a
local fare or carnival, whatever you want to call it, with some
family and friends. We actually had a decent sized
group, so we decided that we would all Dr. separately and
that way we would have several cars and everyone could leave
whenever they wanted. I'm not usually a drinker, and
even back in my college years, alcohol has always given me
really bad anxiety the following day, so I usually just avoid it
for whatever reason. This particular night I was in a
really good mood and actually felt like drinking.
I was having a bunch of drinks with my girlfriend's dad.
We were giving each other the old Hey, how long is it going to
take you to finish that? Or this is already my second one
and you're on your first kind of thing after, I don't know, a
third or fourth drink. My girlfriend came up in front
of everyone and said something along the lines of are you going
to slow down or I think you need to relax and something like
that. I honestly don't remember.
What I do remember is acting very poorly, basically pouting
because I was annoyed and embarrassed that she had said
that. Again, I was super immature at
the time. I remember then just completely
shutting down. I wasn't being rude to anyone,
but I was giving one word answers and being very
antisocial. I recall my girlfriend even
coming up to me with a beer to apologize, which I declined and
I continued with the cold shoulder.
Now looking back on it. I don't know why I was so mad
and reacted that way. After walking around for another
hour I decided that I was going to take off and head home since
I didn't drive and had been drinking.
My girlfriend asked how I was getting home and I said a friend
was coming to get me. I just walked off leaving the
fair and headed to the parking lot.
Now, a ways back from the parking lot was a forest, and
behind that I believe there were farms.
It was still light out, so I figured that I would just walk
into the woods to clear my mind and get out of that crappy mood
that I seem to be in. After heading into the woods for
what I thought would be a quick walk, I started getting
extremely hot. I don't know if it was because I
was feeling buzzed from the drinks or because it was
actually getting hotter out. The longer I sort of trampled
around the woods, the more embarrassed I felt about my
actions. I was realizing how childish I
had acted. I figured that I would just head
back to the fair, see if everyone was still there, and
meet back up with the group. But after walking for about 15
minutes, I realized that I didn't know where I was.
I was lost. I couldn't find the path out of
the parking lot. I stayed calm and tried to
analyze my surroundings to see if anything would stick out.
I started to move towards where I thought I had heard a sound,
but then realized that I really had no idea what I was doing and
where I was going. I was stuck in the middle of the
woods with no one around to help.
I pulled out my phone and even though I had a bunch of text
messages, my texts or calls just wouldn't go through and there
didn't seem to be any service. After sitting on the dirt and
thinking for several minutes, I thought the best idea was to
just wait until nightfall. I didn't want to venture deeper
into the woods, not knowing where I was, and I thought that
I would be able to see the lights from the fair and make my
way back. Then I would have cell service
and I could call for a ride home.
As the sun began to set and dusk started to set in, I became more
uneasy. I noticed every little sound, a
branch breaking, the wind shaking trees.
But as it got darker and darker, I swore that I heard voices.
I would twist my neck so fast, thinking that I heard something.
It sounded like the voices were getting closer and closer until
silence. Everything was so quiet and then
my heart jumped out of my chest as I heard someone yell, there
you are, get them. I started running.
I didn't know where I was going, but I just ran.
I was bumping into trees, taking branches to the face.
I tripped and fell, and on the 2nd fall I decided to just stay
still. I sat as quietly as I could,
trying to see if I had gotten away from whoever was screaming
and seemingly looking for me. Why were they looking for me?
Was I just being paranoid? How did anyone know that I was
even in the woods sitting and waiting for dark?
After a few minutes of silence, I heard footsteps going over
leaves and branches. It sounded like people were
talking to each other. The only thing I remember
hearing is she expects us to get him or something like that.
Once I heard the voices start to trail off in another direction,
I began slowly walking. It had become very dark and I
wasn't able to see any lights as of yet, but after what I assumed
might have been 5 to 10 minutes of walking, I started to see a
glow in the distance. As I moved closer, I could hear
the murmur of life. As soon as I realized that it
was the fair in my way out, I just sprinted as fast as I
could. I don't think I'd ever been that
scared in my life, but I always look back on this experience
wondering if there was anything to be scared about.
Who were the people in the woods?
Were they even looking for me? Or was it just some big prank or
coincidence? Or maybe it was someone just
being an idiot? I don't know.
Whatever it was, now when I'm out hiking or in the woods, I
always feel like I see something in my peripherals.
Even though I know nothing's there, I always make sure that
I'm back home by dark. I've always had trouble focusing
on my schoolwork, and it's not just a case of ordinary
distractions. Traumatic experiences in my life
have left me feeling perpetually off center.
Even in the peace and quiet of my home, every little thing
seemed to bother me. It was as if I couldn't escape
the noise in my own head. During my sophomore year of
college, I began a strange ritual To cope with this
inability to concentrate. I would drive to a secludeded
location in the countryside, about a 20 minute journey from
my house. Surprisingly, this was the only
way I could find the solitude and tranquility necessary to
tackle my school assignments. But as the end of my senior year
loomed, my anxiety reached a crescendo.
One particular exam, which accounted for a whopping 40% of
my final grade, haunted my thoughts.
I needed at least a 75 on this exam to pass the course, so I
decided to turn my study session into a weekend adventure.
Instead of my usual spot. I embarked on a journey to a
remote area hours away. My plan was to hike through
beautiful trails and find a quiet spot to study amidst
nature's serenity. I left home early on a Saturday
morning and arrived at my destination around 10:00 AM.
The first part of the day was dedicated to hiking and by
around 2 PMI stumbled upon an idyllic clearing near the top of
a steep hill. It overlooked A dense forest,
and there were some rocks that provided a comfortable spot for
me to spread out my books and laptop.
As I delved into my textbook, something peculiar caught my
attention, the faint sound of twigs snapping In my already
distracted state, I couldn't help but fixate on this noise.
It grew, madding, consuming my every thought.
I assumed it must have been some wildlife, perhaps a deer or
chipmunk. Determined to scare it away and
regain my concentration, I ventured to the edge of the tree
line and shouted random noises, but there was no response.
I clapped my hands together, hoping to startle whatever
creature was out there, but still there was silence.
I stared intently into the thick woods and thought I glimpsed the
silhouette of a person moving. I chalked it up to my
imagination running wild. The noise ceased and I convinced
myself that my efforts had worked.
Relieved, I returned to my books, however, an uneasy
feeling gnawed at me. Making it impossible to focus.
Flipping through the pages, I realized I wasn't retaining
anything. It was time to pack up and find
a more convenient place to study closer to my car.
When I approached the tree line, I froze.
About 30 feet away, concealed by the trees, stood the back of a
person. Broad shoulder suggested it was
a man, but I couldn't be sure since he faced away from me.
Clad in all black attire and wearing a peculiar mask, he
looked like something out of a nightmare.
I remained still, my mind racing.
The mask was horrifying white with a long snout like
appendage. It resembled something from a
scene in Beetlejuice, but far more sinister.
The eyes were jet black and wild hair sprouted from the mask, a
mustard yellow color that seemed to be part of the mask itself.
Then the person began to hum, a drawn out eerie groan that sent
shivers down my spine. He started moving closer, and
panic gripped me. The clearing was small, and to
get back to the trail I'd have to pass by him.
Sliding down the steep hill was not an option as he ran toward
me. Still groaning and humming.
He abruptly stopped right in front of me and let out a laugh.
My heart pounded in my chest. Then he resumed his strange
humming. He didn't touch me, but the fear
was suffocating. Without thinking, I sprinted
around him. I could hear him following
closely, still humming, but I didn't dare look back.
Finally, I reached my car and to my relief, he didn't pursue me
any further. My phone signal was weak, but I
managed to call the police once I reached the nearest town.
I reported the disturbing encounter, but they seemed
uninterested as technically the person hadn't harmed me.
With no other complaints, it appeared they wouldn't
investigate further. I had no idea what that person
was doing in the woods. Whether it was a prank, an
individual on drugs, or someone genuinely disturbed the memory
of that mask. That chilling groan and the
terrifying encounter still haunts me to this day.
While I was physically unharmed, the psychological trauma remains
a vivid scar from that dreadful afternoon.
What I'm about to tell you is one of the most significant
events of my entire life, but to understand it, I need to lay out
a little back story. Back in 2007, for reasons that
are totally irrelevant to the story, I dropped out of college.
I had to move back with my mom, who was incredibly angry at me
for dropping out, and her condition for me staying there
was that I got a job and paid a little rent.
Not long after, I ended up picking up a few shifts at some
catering company, which is where I met David.
David was only a year older and we were into the same kind of
movies and music, so we developed this kind of workplace
bromance that quickly spilled over into our spare time.
We ended up working in different places, but we stayed in touch
and every so often we'd head out on a little camping trip.
We called it camping, but the truth was, it was just an excuse
to get drunk, grill up some steaks, and then give each other
the creeps by talking about all the spooky stuff that we liked
around the campfire afterwards. We didn't even bring a tent
along or anything. We just slept off the beer in
the front seats of our cars and then drove back home the
following afternoon once our heads had been cleared.
It might sound kind of lame to some people, but the closer we
got to our 30s, the more we valued what little time we had
to just get drunk, talk crap, and laugh our butts off like we
used to do in the sweaty kitchen back in the day.
We went about four or five times in as many years, but the summer
of 2015 marked our final camping trip.
What happened that night and over the weeks that followed is
almost a complete mystery to everyone but David, and he's
never been the same since. David was always a quiet guy.
He had an awesome sense of humor and he could handle his beer,
But if I had to sum him up in one word, that word would be
chill. That's half the reason he was
such a great drinking buddy. There was never any drama with
him, and that same thing extended into his personal life
too. By 2015, he had totally gotten
his life on track. He didn't do drugs anymore, he
had himself an awesome girlfriend, and he was earning
top dollar as a supervisor for some pharmaceutical company.
Everything seemed to be going his way, which makes what
happened next all the more confusing.
So we drove out to the middle of nowhere on a Friday afternoon,
and then we got to setting up our camp for the evening.
I was focused on setting up a decent campfire while David went
to and from the car, unpacking the coolers and camping chairs.
Then at one point I'm working on the fire in silence while he's
walking back with a cooler in each hand.
He puts them down, but as he does so, he says something under
his breath that sounded a lot like La Jellies.
I looked up from the campfire being like, would you say La
jellies? But then David gives me this
look of confusion and basically returns the same question by
asking what the Hell's la jellies?
I remember laughing a little before telling him you're the
weirdo that said it first, thinking I'd either misheard him
or it was some kind of dumb inside joke that he was pulling.
I don't know, he went through a heavy Deez Nuts phase for a
while, so at first I kind of figured it was another verbal
trap or something. But the look of confusion on his
face persisted, until he finally said, dude, I don't know what
you're talking about. He kept the Super serious look
on his face long enough for this wave of creepiness to just run
through me, and after a few seconds I started giving him a
slow clap for managing to legitimately scare me.
I thought that might breakthrough his little ruse,
because to me there was no other explanation for what he was even
doing. But when he continued insisting
that he hadn't said anything, I started to feel like I was going
crazy. I'd heard something, but maybe
my distracted self misheard him clearing his throat or whatever,
and I was making a big deal out of nothing.
I now understand that that was the first red flag of the trip,
but in the moment I didn't see it for what it was.
No one cancels their beer and steak trip over some silly
little misunderstanding, and I wasn't about to frantically call
911 to help my buddy. I guess that's just how those
things go. You don't worry about the
tremors and then the earthquake hits, but by then it's too late
to do anything about it. I hadn't forgotten about the
whole phantom word thing, but I pushed it to the back of my
mind. By the time we got to cracking
open the first beers, it must have been around 7:30 PM.
By that time, a couple of more hours of daylight to burn, and
there had been no repeated incidents like the one before.
We got ourselves good and lost in the conversation, grilled up
our steaks, and for the next few hours the mood was a good one.
Then, not long after sunset, our bellies were full and we got a
nice little buzz going. When there was a brief lull in
the conversation, we were both just sort of staring off into
the fire, enjoying the sound of crickets and the crackling wood,
when out of nowhere, David just says bozo.
I turned to look at him and he's got this big smile stretched
across his face. I asked him, who's a bozo, kind
of laughing to myself and how we just plucked the word out of the
air, but he just says it again before wheezing, laughing to
himself. You know, that kind of silent
laughter that some people have when they're not making any
noise, but just kind of rhythmically bobbing in their
seat. He's doing that for like a
minute before I ask him again, who's Bozo?
What the Hell's so funny? The question only seemed to add
to the hilarity for him, and he started rocking back and forth,
shaking his head, barely able to contain himself.
I remember leaning forward to try and get a look at him or
make eye contact. I'm not really sure what I was
trying to do, but that's when I saw how red in the face he was
and how there was this strip of drool dripping off his bottom
lip. Things went from funny to weird
to creepy really damn fast. But when I asked David if he was
OK, he literally fell off his camping chair and erupted into
the loudest, most unhinged laughter I've ever heard in my
entire life. I knew something was wrong, I
just didn't know what. And when he started making these
weird choking, coughing noises, I was terrified that he was
having some kind of seizure that I kind of knew how to deal with.
So I just jumped into action and turned him on his side.
But then before I could think to do anything else, I noticed that
he was breathing fine and that he was just sort of weakly
trying to push me off of him as if to say, I'm OK just give me
some room. I backed off a little, and as I
did so, David seemed like he was starting to calm down.
He took a few deep breaths, wiped away the tears and the
drool, and then found his feet while letting out a few sort of
chuckles like he was getting the last of it out of his system.
These were all very reassuring signs at 1st, and I was starting
to think that maybe he just had a sort of manic fit of laughter.
It wouldn't have been the first time one of us had just laughed
until it hurt, but as you probably noticed, his little
episode was very irregular, and that's putting it kind of
kindly. But then, right when I thought
that I was worrying myself over nothing, David started to take
his clothes off. I think I let out a sort of What
the hell are you doing? But it was no good.
It was like he couldn't hear me. There were still ripples of that
laughter coming and going, little tremors here and there.
But other than that, he just got on with stripping himself
completely bare. That's the point where I had a
major sense of humor, failure. It came out as anger, but I
promise you, it was nothing but fear.
I was yelling at him to put his clothes on that it wasn't funny
and if he kept it up I was going to drive off and then only come
back and get him once he was sober.
Now it was an empty threat. There was no way I was getting
behind the wheel with that many beers in me.
But like I said, my patience was about to run dry.
I don't mean my patience with him as such, I just mean with
this whole situation, something was obviously very wrong and I
needed to know what so I could try and fix it.
But there was no fixing anything and things just got worse.
Right as I'm in the middle of yelling all these sort of empty
threats, Adam David started peeing.
And I don't mean like walked off and found a tree to kind of hide
behind. I mean he just started peeing
right there, not moving at all, just staring at me with this
dumb look on his face. The next second he looks down,
notices that he's peeing all over his own legs, and then
breaks out into another bout of near uncontrollable laughter.
And I say near because he didn't double over or roll on the floor
this time. Instead he walked over to the
nearest tree, which was maybe 10 or 15 feet away, and he starts
punching it really hard. The sound of his knuckles
crunching into the bark with all the force he could muster made
me feel physically sick. David's a big guy too,
especially back then when he was lifting.
So imagine a six foot four £250 guy is wailing on a tree and
then imagine the kind of damage that would do to his knuckles.
I kept screaming at him to stop and I knew if I grabbed him
there was a good chance that he'd turn on me, but what else
could I do? I tried to get him to stop, but
he turned around and shove me off like I was nothing.
It worked though. He was distracted enough to stop
punching the tree, but the damage was done and his knuckles
looked like raw steak. I can't imagine the kind of pain
that he must have been in, and I guess some kind of messed up
adrenaline high kept him from feeling it.
But as I got to my feet and he looked at the blood running over
his fingers, he started to laugh again.
I don't think words can ever really cover how terrified I was
in that moment. The best I can sum it up is
this. It's like every thought in my
head was replaced by the numbers 911.
I needed help, a lot of help, and I needed it fast.
I remember taking my phone out while backing up away from him,
and he didn't follow it. First he kept on laughing at the
mess that he'd made on his knuckles, but when he heard me
talking to the 911 dispatcher, he stopped laughing, pointed at
me, and screamed something that I couldn't make out at first.
That's how I know that he was still in there.
Somehow he had enough sense to know that I was doing something
that he didn't want me to do, but the way he expressed his
discontent was just as confusing as it was frightening.
All the other stuff. The first time he yelled at me,
I was trying to listen to the dispatcher so my brain wasn't
tuned into what he was shouting. The second time, I heard him
loud and clear, and although it was another kind of nonsense
word, I'll try my best to type it out.
He screamed at me two or three times before he charged at me,
and I'm just kind of writing out what I think he said.
I tried to listen up for a word in there, but there was nothing.
More than seven years later and I still can't figure out what he
was trying to say. Maybe it doesn't mean anything
at all and it was just part of his brain being all defective
and garbling his words, but after the third time of
screaming it at the very top of his lungs, he started running at
me like some sort of linebacker. I turned and ran, phone in hand,
hoping my natural night vision would just adjust fast enough to
avoid smashing into a tree. I think I must have run for a
good couple of minutes before I realized no one was chasing me
anymore. I remember kneeling down and
trying to puke as quietly as possible so I could still listen
for anyone following. When it was clear David wasn't
following, I started walking back to where our campfire was.
Walking too fast and I might end up walking into a trap.
Walking too slow and I might end up losing him in the woods.
It ended up being the second one, although it didn't seem
like the worst of the two options at the time.
As I walked back through the darkness, time would prove me
wrong on that one. When I got back to our campfire,
David was nowhere to be seen. I'll admit to not looking too
hard for him at first. That's something I always feel
guilty about, but at the time I was terrified that he was just
crouched behind some tree waiting for me to let my guard
down. It was around that time that I
realized that I was still on the line with 911, but knowing that
I wouldn't be able to defend myself, I hung up with the
intention of calling back once I was safe again.
Looking back on it, that's something I see as a big mistake
on my part, but I cannot overstate how terrified I was
and how much that influenced my decision making.
Instead, I ran back to my car, locked the doors, and then
called 911 again. Once I was in a position to
drive off if David reappeared. I told the dispatcher everything
but hammered home the point of it being some kind of mental
health crisis. The last thing I wanted was to
watch my best friend getting shot by the cops, especially by
some small town sheriff's deputy with very little DE escalation
training. It's not their fault.
I've got a brother-in-law who's a cop, so I know it's all budget
related and not just incompetence, but still you get
my point about the cops. About 30 to 40 minutes later, 2
deputies actually showed up and I helped them search the
surrounding woods, calling out David's name as we went.
They kept their pistols in their holsters and walked with pepper
spray and Tasers at the ready. This was a huge weight off my
mind and they were very receptive to the idea of it
being some kind of psychotic break, but they also raised an
issue that I feel I should take the time to clarify.
Now, David might have been a fairly regular beer drinker and
I know he experimented a little growing up, but at the time of
his disappearance he was not on any kind of illegal or
prescription drug. Beer was his vice, but even then
he wouldn't drink any more than a bottle or two each night.
By 2015, a 12 pack around the campfire was considered super
indulgent by our standards. He wasn't an alcoholic.
He hadn't taken anything on the night that he disappeared.
To the knowledge of those close to him, he wasn't suffering from
any ongoing mental health issues.
I'm not saying that there's anything suspicious or
mysterious about that. Perfectly normal people
sometimes experience random, unexpected mental issues during
their lifetimes, and they go on to have perfectly normal lives
again after recovering. But what the vast majority of
those people don't do is disappear for six months and
then reappear with 0 memory of what had happened while they
were gone. I guess I shouldn't have told
you that right there. Maybe I'm not the best person to
tell the story, but it's true. David was declared a missing
person around 12 hours after he disappeared first.
I think it normally takes longer to get that status, but his
vulnerable mental state allowed us to kind of get that process
speed up. The cops went back in bigger
numbers to search the forest but didn't find anything.
After that, they went back with even more guys, but also tracker
dogs and search and rescue teams and all that other stuff.
And still they didn't find anybody a month or two into the
search. Cops said that they were still
looking, but we kind of knew that they'd given up on finding
David alive. There was a lot of talk of him
falling into some river and drowning, or maybe succumbing to
the cold if he couldn't get out of the water in time.
But no matter how hard the cops searched the river for miles up
and down each bank, there was no sign of David or what was left
of him. A few months later, all the
immediate interest in the case had died down.
The case had only one cop working on it at that point, but
we weren't quite ready to give up.
I'm not saying that we all expected David to just show up
alive, but we knew that he was out there somewhere.
People don't just disappear, and at some point he'd show up
again. That might be a happy reunion,
or it might be a heartbreaking one, but either way, we told
ourselves that it was an inevitability.
Maybe for some of us it was a matter of faith.
But for me, it was something I told myself to avoid having to
face the possibility that David was dead.
We held on to that belief for six long months.
Almost nothing else mattered. We hoped, dreamed and prayed for
the day David would reappear. And one day, believe it or not,
he did. At the time he showed up again,
I was working as the regional sales representative for a
fairly large stationary company. The work day had ended with this
long sales strategy meeting because we had all but
completely transitioned online by that point.
The meeting meant that I had my phone switched to Do Not Disturb
mode. When I got out of the meeting, I
walked to my car, pulled out my phone, and saw at least a dozen
missed calls from a bunch of different people.
I kind of knew what it was going to be about since most of the
callers were David's parents, siblings and mutual friends of
ours. But I honestly expected it was
because his body had been found. So when I heard that he'd been
found alive, I was blown away. I celebrated like the Chiefs had
just won the Super Bowl and then drove straight over to David's
parents place to join in with the celebrations.
But when I got there, not only was David not there, but no one
seemed in the mood to celebrate. You see, the person I called
back first, a mutual friend who lived out of state, didn't know
all the details. He just knew David had been
found alive. So when I got to his parents
place and they filled me in on what was happening, I understood
why the mood was so low. In the early morning hours of
the day David showed up, he walked into the emergency room
and told a nurse that he felt ill.
But this emergency room wasn't anywhere near where he went
missing. He was up in Canada and when
David found out where, and more accurately when he was, he
freaked out so badly that he had to be restrained and sedated.
When he came to, he claimed to have no memory of what had
happened to him over the past six months and that his final
memory before blacking out was driving out to the camping spot
that he and I used to frequent. It wasn't quite a happy ending.
It was more like the world's worst twist ending.
I went over to his parents house to find that David was nowhere
to be seen. Instead, he was at a psychiatric
hospital. Being evaluated by doctors and
shrinks, he was apparently a shadow of his former self.
He was malnourished and had lost over 100 lbs.
The mysterious word he'd shouted at me the night he disappeared
turned out to be a word from a language that doesn't exist.
The word doesn't translate into anything, and even if it did,
there wouldn't be any speakers of that language on earth.
He had lost his job and his girlfriend, but he seemed
largely uninterested in those losses.
His parents were heartbroken to see him in such a state.
As for his six month absence, he claimed to have absolutely no
memory of it. He said that one moment he was
driving out to our campsite and the next he was waking up in a
hospital bed in Canada. To this day, he cannot recall
anything that happened during those six months.
The doctors were baffled and couldn't find any medical
explanation for his amnesia. They even brought in specialists
from different fields, but none could shed any light on what had
happened to him. David spent a long time in the
psychiatric hospital undergoing therapy and treatment.
His physical health improved, but his mental state remained
fragile. He was diagnosed with
dissociative amnesia, a condition in which a person
experiences memory loss, often due to a traumatic event or
psychological distress. However, the cause of his
amnesia remained a mystery. After several months in the
hospital, David was released into the care of his parents.
He moved back in with them and began the slow process of trying
to rebuild his life. He never fully recovered his
memories of those missing six months, and to this day he has
no recollection of where he was or what happened to him during
that time. Over the years, David has made
progress in his recovery, but he continues to grapple with the
emotional and psychological toll of his experience.
He has undergone extensive therapy and counseling, but the
root cause of his amnesia remains unknown.
The strange word he shouted during that fateful camping trip
Legelli's has never been explained, and it remains A
perplexing mystery to this day. The story of David's
disappearance and subsequent reappearance is a source of deep
intrigue and confusion for those who know him.
While he has made strides in his recovery, the unanswered
questions and the unexplained nature of his amnesia continue
to haunt him and those who care about him.
David's case remains one of the most baffling and enigmatic
mysteries I have ever encountered, and it serves as a
stark reminder of the fragility of the human mind and the
mysteries that can lie within it.