Just Creepy: Scary Stories
14 True Scary Appalachian Mountain Horror Stories (COMPILATION)
Wed, 28 May 2025
These are 14 True Scary Appalachian Mountain Horror Stories (COMPILATION)Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/Timestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:12:58 Story 200:25:22 Story 300:34:46 Story 400:46:47 Story 500:57:34 Story 601:10:11 Story 701:25:47 Story 801:39:06 Story 901:57:38 Story 1002:13:26 Story 1102:33:04 Story 1202:53:00 Story 1303:14:51 Story 14Music by:►'Decoherence' by Scott Buckley - released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.auhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM_AjpJL5I4&t=0s► Myuu's channelhttp://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Musichttp://bit.ly/2f9WQpeBusiness inquiries: ►[email protected]#scarystories #horrorstories #appalachiantrail 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What terrifying experiences await in the Appalachian Mountains?
I've been living out here in the Appalachian Mountains for most of my life, and I always thought I knew what to expect once the sun went down. Coyotes yipping in the distance, maybe a black bear rustling around. Nothing much shakes me. But on this night, everything changed. Let me start by saying my evening had been uneventful, just chores and a quick dinner before midnight rolled around.
jacks my retriever was curled up by the fireplace like he always is he's the most relaxed dog on the planet rarely even barks unless the mailman shows up that's why i nearly dropped my coffee when i heard this growl coming from him deep and raw unlike anything i'd heard before i glanced at him and saw he was standing rigid hackles raised eyes fixed on the window
i couldn't see anything but my own reflection in the glass and i tried to shrug it off mumbling something like easy buddy but inside i was rattled i've never seen jacks look that tense tail stiff nose practically glued to the window it was enough to get my heart pounding Soon, I realized I still had to lock up my workshop down the slope behind the house.
Normally this isn't a big deal, just a quick trip in the dark with a flashlight, but the way Jax was acting? Let's just say I was on edge. Still, I convinced myself it was no big deal. I grabbed my coat, clicked on the flashlight, and headed out. Jax insisted on coming, practically pressing against my leg with every step. Outside, the air felt strange. I couldn't place why. Maybe it was too still.
No crickets. No wind through the branches. Just a heavy quiet. Halfway to the workshop, Jax let out another warning growl that made my stomach tighten. Before I could turn on my heel, I noticed the workshop door was slightly open, even though I was sure I'd closed it earlier. My chest felt tight, but I forced myself to keep going.
I tugged the door shut and locked it, and that's when this insane commotion erupted in the woods behind me. I can't fully do the sound justice, but it was like a sudden surge of noise tearing through the undergrowth. Branches snapping, leaves crunching, almost like a crowd sprinting among the trees. I froze, and Jax just pressed against me, teeth bared.
Whatever caused that ruckus had to be larger than a raccoon or fox. It sounded massive. My hands were shaking so badly that I fumbled with the flashlight, nearly dropping it.
i backed up toward the house trying not to break into a sprint though my legs were begging me to run the closer we got to the porch the more frantic everything felt i got inside practically shoved the door shut and slid the deadbolt into place My brain was racing, trying to explain what I'd just heard. A bunch of deer. A bear with cubs. But it was so loud, so widespread, like multiple creatures.
I stood in the hallway, breath hitching, jacks at my feet, staring at the door. I realized I'd left my pistol upstairs. Adrenaline was making my hands tremble. My pulse hammered as I rushed to my bedroom, grabbed the gun, and made sure it was loaded. I've never felt so desperate to be armed in my own home. Just as I debated whether to investigate or hide, Jax let out a bark. That bark.
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Chapter 2: What happened during the night in the workshop?
i edged over to the window beside my front door careful not to rustle the curtains the instant i leaned forward the noise outside cut off like someone hit a switch in its place was the deepest most all-consuming silence not a single insect chirping no rustle of leaves just my own ragged breathing
i can't express how unsettling it is to realize that whatever's out there knows when you move the second i froze i heard a slight shuffle near the corner of the house then that quiet murmuring started back up again more agitated than before i grabbed my pistol from the coffee table and quietly approached another window that looked out toward the gravel driveway jacks followed ears down and tail stiff as if he expected an attack
When I shifted the curtain a millimeter, the mumbles faded out again. Something was definitely keyed into every movement I made, and that realization caused my stomach to churn. Time dragged on. I checked my phone. 1.47 AM. It had only been an hour since I'd first heard that thunderous crashing in the woods, but it felt like half the night had passed.
I decided to kill the darkness with a chance at visibility, so I clicked on the porch light. Nothing in the yard, no bodies, no shapes, not even a stray raccoon. My flashlight remained on the table, but I felt no urge to go out there again. A part of me sensed if I opened that door, I'd be swallowed whole. Jax's eyes stayed locked on the windows.
Now and then, a single footstep crunched the gravel outside, slow and deliberate. One step, pause. Another step, pause. it was unbearable not to open a window and yell but i couldn't bring myself to be that reckless my mind kept thinking back on old stories from my grandparents about things in the hills that weren't exactly animal and not quite human either
Tales I'd once dismissed as pure folklore. But here I was, feeling cornered by something I couldn't see. To keep myself sane, I jotted notes on a pad. What times I heard the footsteps, what they sounded like, how the whispering seemed to move around the property in a clockwise pattern.
Once or twice, I considered switching on music or the TV just to drown it out, but a voice in my head told me to stay alert, not to mask the sounds. After all, if something crashed through the door, I needed to know instantly. Hours crawled by this way. My nerves were shot, my hands clammy, and every muscle ached with tension.
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Chapter 3: What eerie sounds were heard outside the home?
I found myself drifting off only to jolt awake seconds later whenever jacks twitched. It was like living on a fault line, expecting the earth to quake at any moment. Meanwhile, the murmurs persisted outside, underscored by that dead silent hush whenever I tried to move. It was a twisted game. They made sure I knew they were there, but not once did I see a face or a form.
Sometime around 4.30, or maybe closer to 5 a.m., the tone of the murmuring changed. Hard to explain, but the pitch went lower, almost guttural. Then, slowly, the sound started drifting away, deeper into the woods. I caught faint rustling through the thick brush, then a final few snaps of branches. In their wake, frogs croaked and a couple of birds called.
It was as if the natural world had been stifled all night and finally breathed again. Relief washed over me, but it wasn't that comforting. I still felt like I might vomit from the stress. I checked each window for any sign of movement. Nothing. The gravel driveway looked untouched, aside from my own footprints.
Jax gradually relaxed, though he wouldn't lie down until the first pale light of dawn crept across the horizon. once i was fairly certain the immediate threat had disappeared i stepped outside on to the porch for a breath of air pistol clutched tight in my hand the yard was a mess of broken branches and the lingering smell of disturbed soil clung to the morning breeze
Yet, bizarrely, there were no footprints, no trace of a crowd or gang of animals. The only proof was in my shaking limbs and Jax's raw-edged stare. I spent sunrise going back and forth, mentally replaying each horrifying moment. My place still felt uneasy, like the echoes of those voices might start up again any second. I didn't dare pack up and leave.
Part of me needed to know if this was a one-time nightmare or an ongoing threat. I downed two cups of coffee, watched the brightening sky, and told myself I'd figure out what to do next. For now, daylight was my only shield, and I was not about to let my guard down. Jax and I sat there in a haunted silence, expecting something to re-emerge, hoping that it wouldn't.
Sunrise brought the faintest sense of relief, yet my nerves still buzzed with every stray sound. I locked the doors, sealed every window, and tried to make sense of what had just happened, but nothing about it fit neatly into the realm of normal. Part of me wanted to believe that it was some freak incident, maybe a collective hallucination brought on by stress.
Still, the unease in my chest whispered that whatever took up residence in the darkness that night is out there, lurking beyond the edges of reason, waiting for another moment to slip back into my world. For now, I've recounted every detail here, hoping to warn others. Sometimes, the eerie stories we dismiss might be truer than we're willing to admit.
I've been drawn to the Appalachian region for as long as I can remember. Something about those towering slopes and shadowy hollows always felt like a gateway into a different world. Beautiful, yet laced with an unsettling aura that's tough to articulate.
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Chapter 4: What did the hikers find in the abandoned graveyard?
Maybe I'd just been reading too many ghost stories. Yet something nagged at me, like I'd stumbled onto a realm where the past occasionally slips through the cracks. Later, in Pennsylvania, I'd discover what true dread can feel like. That, however, is a story for another post, one that still keeps me alert at odd hours, replaying every step I took through that long, dark night.
I thought I'd seen the worst of the trail. Run-ins with spooky silhouettes and a half-asleep confrontation with a bear had me convinced I was prepared for anything. Turns out, Pennsylvania wanted to prove me wrong. After crossing the state line, I remember feeling oddly optimistic. The weather was pleasant enough, and I decided to sleep under the stars rather than set up any shelter.
The sky was so clear earlier that evening, and I wanted to experience the open air for once. I laid out my sleeping pad and got comfy in my bag, surrounded by trees and that faint hum of nighttime insects. Eventually, I drifted off.
some time past midnight i woke up with my heart thumping the night had gone dead silent which rattled me normally you'd at least hear a hooting owl or wind rustling the branches instead a thin eerie whine reverberated all around it was so soft like it was trying not to exist but it also seemed inescapable
every instinct told me i shouldn't remain there my breathing felt tight and the air felt heavier than usual as if some invisible presence had crept in and settled on top of me i tried to tell myself i was overreacting that it might just be the wind through the leaves or some small animal Yet the wine didn't change pitch, didn't shift direction, didn't do anything I'd label as normal.
The dread in the pit of my stomach wasn't something I could shrug off. Within minutes, I was shoving gear back into my pack, fumbling for my headlamp. It took every ounce of willpower not to panic and run blindly through the dark. The moment I found the trail markers and started moving, the heaviness slowly eased. After maybe half a mile, the sensation broke, like stepping out of a dense fog.
The noise faded into nothingness, and I stood there, leaning on a tree, my mind racing. Part of me wanted to turn back, search for some logical explanation. The rest of me argued that I should get as far from that spot as possible. In the end, I kept going. Even now, I haven't made sense of what happened, or what was possibly lurking in that empty patch of forest.
A few days later, a storm caught me and a group of thru-hikers near Mount Rogers. Rain hammered the metal roof of a simple shelter, thunder rolling across the sky. We were soaked, shivering, and half-starved. Someone remembered that a local pizza place would deliver to the parking lot if you sweet-talked them enough.
The idea of hot food and maybe a six-pack had us pooling whatever money we had left. After a tense wait, lightning flickering in the distance, we spotted headlights. Naturally, we figured our food had arrived. Several of us shuffled out into the downpour, layered in soaked clothes, boots caked in mud, hair plastered to our faces. We must have looked like a nightmare.
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Chapter 5: What unsettling encounter occurred during the camping trip?
It wasn't until I reached town, found a phone, and updated my mail drop contact that I got slapped in the face with the real story. I mentioned that shelter, offhandedly describing it as seriously creepy. That's when she told me about the two hikers. They'd been southbounders, having a friendly chat with a random bar patron in Duncannon.
Later that night, this same patron had followed them to that very shelter, waited until they were asleep, and murdered them. Hearing it made my stomach twist, replaying every odd vibe I'd felt, every unsettling sound during the night. Those women at the picnic tables had tried to warn me, but they couldn't bring themselves to say why out loud.
I felt a hollow ache in my chest, knowing now what happened in those walls. It was more than just an old shelter. It was a crime scene, a place stained by something monstrous. If I had known, would I still have slept there? Maybe not. But the thought of it being so close to where two people lost their lives shifted the trail in my mind. The wilderness wasn't just bears and storms.
It could hold human darkness too. And I had just walked right into it. I came back to that stretch of the trail a few years later. I hadn't really planned on returning. There was a part of me that wanted to avoid that entire area, after learning what had gone down at the old shelters. But life and my hiking routes had a funny way of circling back on themselves.
Before I knew it, I was standing at the same cutoff from the main trail, peering down the slope with this knot in my stomach. The trees here looked familiar, yet different.
maybe older or scarred by storms sunlight trickled through the canopy in thin beams and a low breeze made the branches sway i swear it felt like the forest was reminding me we remember what happened here going down that path i half expected to see the two old shelters just as they'd been
My memory was vivid, those ramshackle logs, the musty smell, the new shelter mid-construction with the carved faces. But when I reached the bottom, I was greeted by an entirely changed scene. The two ancient structures had been torn out, no trace but a few piles of splintered wood near the edge of the clearing. Instead, the new shelter stood proudly in their place, fully completed.
The carved faces I'd glimpsed years ago were still there, only now smooth by weather or maybe by countless hikers running their hands along them. They seemed less like art and more like watchful eyes. I hesitated, feeling a swirl of relief that the murderous old shelters were gone, mixed with a weird nostalgia for the original version of the place, even if it had been dangerously creepy.
As I moved closer, I noticed someone sitting on the newly built porch, sipping from a battered canteen. He wore a bandana and looked like he'd seen a lot of trail miles. When he looked up, I nodded a greeting and he waved me over. We got to talking as hikers do. Turns out he'd through-hiked the trail a few years back and had come out for a weekend getaway.
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Chapter 6: What mysterious figures haunted the hikers in the fog?
Newish model, tinted windows, not a soul in sight around it. In the back of my head, I was screaming at myself that I was just being jittery, But I couldn't shake the thought. What if it followed us from the lot? It seemed too coincidental. My friend leaned forward, trying to see if anyone was inside, and that quiet question hung in the air. Could it be the same one?
We didn't linger long enough to find out. I swung the car around and got back on the highway, half expecting that Jeep's headlights to pop up in my mirror. For a while, it was just darkness and winding roads. The trees crowding in on either side. My friend and I didn't talk much. We were both in our own heads. Every distant glimmer of lights behind us made my muscles tighten.
A few times I caught myself speeding. pushing my old PT Cruiser harder than I should have, just wanting to be around other people, bright lights, safety. Maybe it was overblown fear, or maybe not. Eventually we spotted another big box store off the highway, a place that was open all night. We drifted into the lot, found a spot neither too hidden nor too exposed, and tried to settle in.
My friend reclined her seat, fiddling with her phone, and I leaned against the door, letting my eyes close. The adrenaline buzz was fading, replaced by sheer exhaustion. The plan was simple. Get some rest, wake up, and push on at dawn. That's all we needed, right? But a nagging alarm kept sounding in the back of my mind. I couldn't help imagining a set of headlights rolling in beside us again.
I'd always prided myself on having good instincts, especially on the road, and something was shouting at me to stay alert. Maybe the night was messing with my head, maybe it was the mountain air, but I couldn't settle. I just kept checking the rearview mirror and scanning the corners of the lot, half-conscious, waiting for a sign that everything was about to unravel.
Looking back, I should have known I wasn't going to get a peaceful rest. The real trouble was just around the corner, and a part of me sensed it even then. The mountains have a way of holding secrets close, and that night, it felt like I was driving straight into one. I'd been through my fair share of late night drives, but none that left me quite this tense.
We'd found another big parking lot, a large store glowing in the distance like some lifeline, and I figured we could finally try to rest. My friend was nodding off in the passenger seat, leaning her head against the window.
my eyes felt heavy but every time i let them close i jolt awake at the faintest hint of movement in my mirrors at first the lot seemed almost peaceful only a smattering of cars plenty of overhead lights and the steady hum of night-shift employees hauling carts around I tried to tell myself we'd been imagining things earlier, that those suspicious vehicles were just random folks passing through.
Then I spotted headlights drifting in from the far side of the lot, and my grip on the steering wheel tightened again. A white Jeep Compass glided across the asphalt and parked right next to us.
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Chapter 7: What chilling discovery did they make about the old shelters?
But if you're ever on the Appalachian Trail and you see a tree marked with a triangle and a circle inside, turn around. Don't answer the call. And if you hear your own voice echoing from the woods, it's already too late. This happened in the fall of 2021, somewhere between Max Patch and Hot Springs on the Appalachian Trail.
I haven't told many people about it, partly because I still don't understand it myself, and partly because I know how insane it sounds. There were five of us. Me, Liam, Caroline, Josh, and Ray. We were all experienced hikers, not just weekend warriors. We'd planned a ten-day section hike, aimed for early October to avoid the crowds and the worst of the bugs. No one brought GPS.
We were trying to keep it old school. Paper maps, compasses, and instinct. We were about three days in when this happened. We camped on a flat shelf just off the trail. It had rained the night before, so we expected a bit of morning mist. What we woke up to was something else entirely. The fog was thick, but it wasn't moving. It didn't roll or lift with the sun.
It just sat there, still and dense, like it was pinned in place. I couldn't see more than 15, maybe 20 feet in any direction. No birds, no bugs, no wind. Just the damp and the silence. Even when I called out to Liam, who was only 10 feet away, my voice sounded muffled, like we were talking through insulation. He was poking at the fire pit, trying to get a flame going.
Caroline stood near the edge of camp, watching the trees like they might start moving. We all tried to play it cool. Mist happens, right? We packed up slow, hoping it would clear. That's when we heard it. Laughter. High-pitched. Definitely kids. At first just one giggle, then a few more, like a group playing tag just out of sight. We froze.
I mean, we were deep in the woods, miles from any road or shelter. There shouldn't have been anyone else, let alone children. Ray said maybe it was a scout group. Josh shrugged. Weird, but not impossible, he said. But even he sounded uncertain. Then the kids appeared, eight of them. Pale, silent, walking in a line, with one tall figure behind them that I assumed was an adult.
They didn't say anything at first, just moved past us, right through our camp, like they didn't see us or didn't care. Their clothes were old-fashioned, muted grays and browns, buttoned up all the way to the neck. No bags, no water, no gear. They didn't look dirty, just… off. One of the girls stopped and turned to us.
Her head tilted a little too far, like she wasn't used to how necks were supposed to work. "'Where are you going?' she asked. Liam, always the smartass, said, "'Heading north, through hiking the A.T.' The girl blinked. Her lips twitched like she was trying to smile but didn't remember how."
this isn't the appalachian trail she said then she turned and kept walking the rest followed the tall figure hooded face hidden brought up the rear and then they were gone back into the fog we just stood there No one said anything for a long time. Eventually, Ray muttered, Okay, that was messed up. Caroline wanted to pack up and go back south. Liam said we should keep going.
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Chapter 8: What is the warning for those hiking the Appalachian Trail?
My breath came shakily as their taillights vanished down the road, leaving me sitting in unnerving silence. Emma and Mason had fallen unusually quiet, their small faces pale in the dim interior. "'Mommy,' Emma whispered uncertainly, "'those people were weird.' I forced a reassuring smile. Just trying to be helpful, sweetie. But as I pulled back onto the main road, doubt gnawed at my mind.
The suggested detour appeared just up ahead. A narrow, unpaved road diving sharply into the dense forest. Its entrance swallowed by thickening shadows. My pulse quickened as I neared it, eyes involuntarily drawn to the looming, darkened woods. Then I saw them again. Their car sat idly by the roadside, awkwardly parked half-hidden among tall blackened trees.
Both occupants stood silently beside the vehicle, shoulders rigid, eyes locked unblinkingly onto something unseen deep within the tangled forest. Their postures were unsettlingly stiff, almost unnatural. Neither acknowledged my slow passage. It was as if I didn't exist. My stomach twisted sharply, panic fluttering up my throat, as I quickly pressed harder on the gas pedal.
The road unfolded silently beneath me, trees blurring past. Only when miles stretched between us did I release my breath, realizing I'd been holding it all this time. That night, safe at home, sleep eluded me.
every shadow reminded me of those strange lifeless stares the unnatural stillness and the way they'd waited silently expectantly at the mouth of that forgotten road a road that seemed to lead nowhere but darkness morning sunlight painted a deceptive warmth over the countryside pushing back the terrors of the night before Yet, a lingering unease refused to fade.
After dropping Emma and Mason at school, kissing them a bit too long, holding them a bit too tightly, I found myself drawn inexplicably back toward that isolated stretch of road. My heart beat faster as familiar landmarks blurred past, anxiety simmering beneath my skin. I tried to convince myself I was overreacting, that daylight would make my fears vanish.
But as the narrow road came into view, dread returned with suffocating strength. Slowing down, I peered carefully toward the roadside, my pulse hammering like a trapped bird against my rib cage. A rusted metal sign emerged from behind thick brush, partially concealed and leaning precariously. My breath caught sharply. Dead end.
I swallowed hard, guiding my car carefully onto the shoulder, gravel crunching softly beneath my tires. For a long moment, I just sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles whitened. The memory of the couple's vacant stares and rigid postures was vivid, haunting. The compulsion to understand, to unravel this unsettling mystery, proved stronger than my fear.
Reluctantly, I stepped out, my shoes sinking slightly into the soft earth, damp from the morning dew. The woods surrounding me felt oppressive, their thick branches forming a natural tunnel that seemed to suck the sunlight away. An unnatural silence enveloped everything. Not a bird chirped, nor leaves rustled. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting.
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