Aaron Miller

speaker

190 appearances 1 recordings 1 series first heard Jun 2025 last heard Jun 2025

Aaron Miller’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.

Trend

recordings per month · last 12 months

No recordings in the last 12 months.Older appearances are listed below; set an alert to hear about the next one.

Appearances

newest first · ▶ plays the moment

Just Creepy: Scary Stories · 4 Scary DEEP WOODS Stories to Listen to While Outside · 4 Jun 2025 podcast

I felt a creeping unease, like something hidden had been disturbed by our intrusion. This doesn't feel right, Ben whispered. His face was pale now, eyes nervously darting to the shadows beneath the trees. I didn't answer, pushing forward stubbornly, driven by an inexplicable urge to understand what we'd stumbled upon. After another mile, the source of the stream emerged abruptly ahead.

My breath caught. Embedded into the hillside stood an unnatural concrete structure, a slab half covered by moss and dirt, anchored by twisted rebar, rusted deep red from decades of exposure. From beneath the structure flowed the runoff, sliding through a thin horizontal gap just above the ground. Ben's voice quivered, barely above a whisper. Luke, what the hell is this doing out here?

I don't know, I murmured, feeling the hair stand on my neck. There aren't supposed to be buildings or dams this far into the backcountry. As the sun dipped lower, the forest dimmed further, shadows growing longer, deeper. The stillness intensified, oppressive and strange. It wasn't merely quiet, it felt devoid of sound, as if the woods themselves held their breath. Ben shifted anxiously.

We shouldn't camp near here. Let's head downstream, I agreed, reluctantly breaking my gaze from the unsettling concrete wall. We quickly set up camp a half mile back, beneath an overhang of rock, where the forest seemed slightly less oppressive. But even here, the silence chased us, thickening as dusk settled into darkness.

As the fire crackled, Ben stared nervously into the darkening woods, eyes reflecting the flickering light. I keep thinking something's moving out there, he whispered, shifting uncomfortably. Just shadows, I replied, though I felt it too, a constant silent pressure from the darkness beyond. Sleep came fitfully, disrupted by sudden jolts of awareness, ears straining to hear what wasn't there.

Deep into the night, I woke suddenly, eyes snapping open. Above the gentle rustle of wind, something else hummed, a faint mechanical vibration, steady and alien, echoing from upstream. I sat motionless, heart hammering, listening until it faded. Morning couldn't come soon enough.

Morning broke slowly, and despite the weak daylight filtering through the dense canopy overhead, the chill remained stubbornly in the air. I woke to Ben already awake, staring silently upstream. eyes tired and dark-ringed. "'You heard it too, didn't you?' he asked without turning toward me. "'That humming sound?' I stretched stiff limbs, shaking off uneasy dreams.

"'Yeah, I couldn't tell where it was coming from.' We packed quickly and wordlessly, each eager to move and dispel the uneasy quiet that still clung to the forest." The runoff stream guided our path, its waters whispering over stones, clearer and colder with each step we took upstream. The animal remains persisted, birds, another rabbit, each as bloodless and untouched as the last.

The sight never became easier. My stomach churned uneasily, my mind desperate for rational explanations. Finally the stream narrowed abruptly, flanked by steep rock faces tangled with roots and moss. Around the next bend, I froze. Built into the side of the ravine was a stark, unnatural concrete structure, looming silently like some forgotten relic from a war long past.

rusted iron bars jutted from the stone bent and twisted sealing whatever lay within the run-off trickled steadily from a narrow horizontal opening beneath the wall ben stood beside me mouth slightly open eyes wide what is this luke I shook my head slowly, trying to fit this into what I knew of the mountains. I've never heard of anything like this being out here, not on any maps I've seen.

Cautiously, we stepped closer. My heart thumped heavily in my chest. The structure was massive, solid concrete, weather-stained and partly covered by moss, decades old at least. A faint mechanical hum drifted from somewhere inside, stronger now, vibrating gently through the soles of my boots. Maybe an old dam, or some kind of waterworks?

Ben suggested nervously, but the words felt thin, inadequate. I circled the structure, searching for a clue. Nearby trees, bare of bark, stood silently, stripped smooth as bone. Amid thick brush at the edge of the clearing, something metallic caught my eye. I stepped closer, brushing aside vines and dirt to reveal a rusted steel hatch, half buried beneath soil and vegetation.

Faded letters stenciled onto its surface read, USGS, Authorized Personnel Only. Ben peered over my shoulder, reading aloud quietly, U.S. Geological Survey. What would they have done out here? I shrugged uncertainly. Monitoring, maybe. Some old research station or something abandoned. Ben knelt and tested the hatch handle cautiously. It moved slightly, the ancient hinges squealing in protest.

Ben, I don't think— But he'd already wrenched the hatch open fully, revealing a steel-wrung ladder descending into absolute darkness. Cold air flowed upward, carrying a damp, metallic odor. I'll just take a quick look, he said hurriedly, pulling his headlamp from his pack and clicking it on. Ben, wait. We don't know what's down there. He waved off my concern impatiently.

I'll be back in ten minutes, just want to see. Before I could object again, he swung himself onto the ladder and descended into the blackness, his light fading quickly as he dropped down, rung by rung. A sense of dread rose steadily in my gut as his steps echoed, then gradually fell silent. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Ben? I called down the hatch.

My voice bounced hollowly against unseen walls. No answer came. The humming suddenly stopped, the forest falling utterly silent. I strained my ears into the silence below, listening. A sound scraped briefly, like fingernails against concrete, quick and sharp. Then silence again. I knelt, peering into the darkness, heart racing. Ben, answer me, man! Nothing, just the gaping, empty dark.

An hour passed, panic now clawing at my nerves. I debated following him, but hesitated. The darkness below felt thick, unnatural. Every instinct screamed at me to stay put. I paced helplessly, heart pounding, searching the clearing for any sign of Ben, praying he'd emerge smiling, joking about getting lost.

but he never did as night began to fall again my anxiety deepened into despair i built a fire next to the hatch desperate for its small circle of flickering light shadows danced wildly around the clearing deepening the darkness beyond From the corner of my eye, a flash of color broke through the gloom. I turned sharply, squinting into the woods.

Far off between trees, a strange red glow flickered, moving slightly, wavering like a distant lantern. Every hair on my neck rose. Ben? I called weakly. But I knew immediately it wasn't him. The glow hovered a few moments longer before blinking out suddenly, plunging the forest back into total darkness.

My heart thundered as I retreated closer to the fire, shivering not from the cold but from dread. Something watched me from the shadows, unseen but undeniably present. All I could do was sit vigilantly by the fire, eyes fixed upon the open hatch, listening as the silence stretched endlessly into the night. Dawn arrived cold and muted, slipping into the forest without fanfare.

Showing 61–80 of 190 · page 4 of 10