These are 4 Extremely CREEPY HUNTING HORROR STORIESLinktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/Timestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:20:02 Story 200:35:44 Story 300:47:55 Story 4Music 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 #huntingstories #deepwoods #cryptids 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What happens in the first hunting story?
Everything felt familiar, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath our boots, the bitter chill seeping through layers of wool and camouflage, and the scent of damp earth that always reminded me of simpler times. "'Tom, over there,' Reed whispered sharply, nodding toward a thick cluster of hemlocks on the opposite ridge."
I saw the movement too, a buck stepping carefully, its antlers barely visible through the gathering dusk. Slowly, I raised my rifle and took aim, steadying my breath. The buck paused just long enough, its silhouette clear against the fading orange light of the sky. My finger tightened on the trigger, and the gunshot shattered the silence. The buck collapsed instantly, a clean kill.
Reed clapped me on the shoulder, grinning. Nice shot, he said relieved. Let's get him out before it gets too dark. We made our way down into the gully, boots sliding on slick patches of moss and mud. As we approached the buck, the last glow of daylight drained away, leaving the forest washed in deepening shadows. Reed knelt beside the animal, flashlight beams sweeping across its body.
I came up behind him and something immediately felt off. "'Where's the blood?' Reed muttered, confusion in his voice. He was right. I'd hunted long enough to know a kill shot always left a trail, crimson splashes soaking fur and earth alike. But there was nothing here, not a single drop. My chest tightened, unease prickling the back of my neck.'
Chapter 2: What strange occurrences happen after the deer is shot?
flip it over i told him my voice quieter than i intended we grabbed its legs and rolled it carefully onto its side a chill raced down my spine at what we saw or rather what we didn't the buck's eyes were gone its sockets hollowed out cleanly as if someone had carefully removed them the empty sockets stared up at us darker than the night around them
What the hell, Reed murmured, rising quickly to his feet. I tried to rationalize. Could be scavengers. Maybe birds got to it before we got here. Reed shook his head slowly, unconvinced. No scavenger does something this precise. We stood there, the forest growing darker by the second, the silence around us suddenly oppressive and unnatural.
i had spent my life in these woods but never had i felt so profoundly unwelcome reed glanced around nervously and without another word we grabbed the buck by the antlers and began hauling it toward his truck the carcass felt heavier than it should have the antlers digging painfully into my palms It almost seemed like the buck was resisting us, somehow anchoring itself to the forest floor.
After a short struggle, we heaved it into the truck bed, both of us panting more from nerves than exertion. Reed slammed the tailgate shut and stepped back. "'We'll figure it out back at your cabin,' he said, trying and failing to sound calm."
Chapter 3: Why do Tom and Reed feel uneasy in the forest?
as we climbed into the truck i glanced back at the buck in the bed even in the shadows those empty eye sockets stood out black pits aimed directly at me i shook myself and turned away the drive out of the woods should have been familiar comforting even but tonight it felt different Every tree in turn more sinister, the darkness pressing closer.
Reed fiddled anxiously with the radio, catching only bursts of static and garbled voices that came and went like ghostly whispers. Reception's crap tonight, he mumbled. I nodded absently, my eyes repeatedly flicking to the passenger side mirror, unable to shake the feeling we were being watched. Then I heard it, the first howl. At first it was distant, barely audible beneath the hum of the engine.
But as Reed slowed slightly, it grew clearer. A guttural, mournful cry echoing through the trees. It sounded like a wounded deer, but deeper, almost human." My blood turned to ice. Probably coyotes, Reed said unconvincingly, gripping the wheel tighter. But I knew the sound of coyotes, and this wasn't it.
As the wailing continued, louder now, each note drawn out with eerie clarity, I felt my pulse quicken. Glancing back at the truck bed, I froze. Stop the truck, I said suddenly. Reed looked at me bewildered. What? Why? Just stop. My voice cracked, betraying my panic. He slammed on the brakes, gravel scattering beneath the tires as we lurched to a halt.
Without a word, I leapt from the cab, flashlight in hand, heart hammering. Reed joined me a second later, breath clouding in the crisp night air as he rounded the back. The bed was empty. The deer was gone, vanished without a trace. There was no blood, no drag marks, nothing but wet, muddy hoof prints, leading inexplicably toward the back edge of the tailgate and disappearing into the road.
Reed shone his light down the road and into the trees, his face pale, eyes wide. "'What's happening, Tom?' he whispered shakily. I couldn't answer. My mouth had gone dry, fear gripping my chest tightly. From the darkness of the forest around us, that dreadful howling rose again, closer now, accompanied by something worse, a deep wheezing breath just beyond our line of sight.
"'We need to leave,' I said urgently." Neither of us spoke as we scrambled back into the cab, slamming the door shut. Reed punched the accelerator, and the truck jolted forward, racing down the narrow road, branches scratching at the sides, darkness closing in like it wanted to swallow us whole. But as we sped away, my mind replayed the impossible scene again and again.
Those wet hoofprints, that empty truck bed, and the unexplainable absence of any blood. Worst of all, the lingering question gnawed at me relentlessly. If the buck wasn't dead, what exactly had we brought into our truck, and where had it gone? Reed floored the accelerator, sending the truck barreling down the narrow forestry road, gravel and dirt flying behind us. Neither of us spoke at first.
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Chapter 4: What do Tom and Reed discover about the deer?
The silence between us filled with a thousand questions neither dared to ask aloud. My eyes kept flicking to the side mirror, my pulse quickening every time I caught the blur of shadow or branch. Behind us, the forest had become a black void, swallowing the red glow of our taillights as quickly as they appeared. "'What the hell happened back there, Tom?'
Reed finally muttered, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I don't know, I admitted, struggling to steady my voice. Maybe it fell out. He shot me a look that told me he knew that was impossible. A buck that size wouldn't have simply slid out of the truck without a sound, especially not without leaving a trail or marks. No matter how we tried to rationalize it, nothing made sense.
Then we heard it again, the howl, louder now, closer, tearing through the night with that strange mixture of animal pain and almost human agony. It came from behind, following us down the road, growing louder despite our speed. That ain't no coyote, Reed whispered through clenched teeth.
The truck's headlights cut narrow beams through the pitch black ahead, illuminating little more than fifty feet at a time. The rest was darkness, impenetrable, endless, and increasingly hostile. Reed's hands were trembling slightly as he fought to keep us straight on the narrow track, eyes locked forward.
Suddenly, the truck sputtered, radio flaring briefly to life with static that crackled and snapped in short, broken fragments. The garbled, distorted voices rose and fell, an eerie chorus punctuated by bursts of what sounded disturbingly like laughter. Then the engine faltered, coughing sharply. "'No!' Reed growled, panic rising in his voice. "'Not now!'
He slammed the dashboard with a palm, as if sheer force could keep the truck running. It didn't. With one last choked gasp, the engine died completely, leaving us coasting forward into the dark silence." Reed steered the vehicle slowly off the side of the narrow road, the tires crunching to a final halt on gravel.
For a long moment, we sat frozen, staring at each other, listening to the crackling static of the dying radio as it too faded into silence. Outside, nothing moved, nothing breathed. The forest around us felt impossibly still, as though the entire world was waiting, holding its breath. "'Grab your rifle,' I said quietly, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
Reed reached behind his seat, pulling out his gun with trembling fingers, as I did the same. Slowly, cautiously, we stepped out of the truck, boots crunching into gravel that seemed too loud in the oppressive silence."
flashlights trembling we swept our beams across the empty bed the wet hoof prints were still there glistening oddly beneath our lights but otherwise the bed was empty tom reed whispered pointing his flashlight at something on the ground i followed his gaze my stomach twisted There, leading from the truck toward the edge of the forest, were more hoof prints. But something was wrong with them.
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Chapter 5: What terrifying event occurs when they try to leave?
I nodded, heart thudding in my ears as Reed popped the hood and leaned in, flashlight tucked under his chin. I stood behind him, sweeping the beam of my flashlight around us, paranoia now tightening every muscle in my body. The trees were motionless, the silence absolute. It felt as though the forest itself were watching, waiting for something.
Then, from somewhere deep in the woods to our left, the howling returned, this time louder, clearer, closer. It was followed by a rasping, wet breathing sound, like lungs choking on fluid. I swung my flashlight toward the sound. Branches swayed slightly, though there was no wind. Reed, hurry, I hissed.
almost there he muttered voice barely audible beneath the hood loose wire just give me his voice cut off suddenly i spun around just in time to see his head snap upward eyes wide locked on something behind me tom his voice trembled slowly dread settling in my chest like ice i turned just beyond the edge of our headlights standing utterly still was the buck we'd shot
only now it was upright balanced precariously on two hind legs head hanging grotesquely to one side antlers silhouetted starkly against the blackness the empty eye sockets stared directly at us two deep holes of pure darkness what in god's name reed whispered fumbling backward into the truck
without warning the deer opened its mouth impossibly wide unleashing another ghastly howl this time distorted into an eerie mimicry of human speech stretched painfully through an animal's throat it wailed a single word garbled and chillingly clear at once go my blood ran cold reed slammed the hood shut and jumped into the driver's seat desperately twisting the key again
After a heart-stopping moment, the engine roared back to life. I hurled myself into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut just as Reed punched the accelerator, gravel flying wildly beneath us as we tore away. In the side mirror I watched in horror as the buck dropped back onto all fours, its grotesque form dissolving into shadows, melting away into the darkness behind us.
We raced down the forestry road in silence, our breaths ragged, pulses pounding in time with the frantic hum of the engine. Neither of us spoke until the first dim lights of Cain appeared through the trees, faintly reassuring yet unable to erase the fresh terror we'd just experienced. But even as the forest fell away behind us, I knew the night wasn't over.
Whatever that thing had been, whatever it had become, wasn't done with us yet. The buck, the creature, had told us to go, but deep down I felt certain that it wasn't letting us escape. It was just giving us a head start. By the time we reached my cabin on the outskirts of Kane, neither of us had said a word for at least ten miles.
Reed's hands trembled visibly as he parked the truck, knuckles white around the wheel. When he finally spoke, his voice barely rose above a whisper. I need to get home, Tom. I... I can't do this right now. I nodded slowly, understanding. But a small voice inside urged me to keep him close. It felt safer, somehow. You sure you don't want to stay here tonight? It's late.
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Chapter 6: How does the story conclude with the haunting presence?
But as I moved toward the shed where I'd usually store any game we brought back, my stomach twisted. The shed door was open, swinging lightly in the cold breeze, the lock dangling uselessly. Approaching cautiously, I shined the flashlight into the darkness.
my breath caught sharply wet muddy hoof-prints were scattered across the wooden floorboards leading inside they stopped abruptly at the far wall as though whatever had made them had simply vanished the walls were untouched the windows intact yet somehow the thing had gotten inside without breaking anything I stumbled backward, my pulse racing as I scanned the trees beyond the yard.
There was nothing but empty darkness, yet the sensation of being watched was overwhelming. Back inside the cabin, I fumbled to lock the doors, checking every window twice. I placed my loaded rifle next to my bed, hands trembling, and eventually drifted into an uneasy half-sleep, plagued by dreams filled with hollow-eyed creatures and endless forests.
I awoke sometime later to a sound I knew instantly. The howling. Only now it wasn't distant. It was right outside my bedroom window, so close I could hear the rattling breath beneath the shrieking cry. Swallowing the terror rising in my throat, I slowly got up, gripping the rifle tightly, creeping toward the window. With a shaking hand, I moved the curtain aside just enough to peer outside.
There, at the edge of the treeline illuminated by moonlight, stood the buck. My heart nearly stopped. It stood upright again, its unnatural posture grotesque and contorted. Its antlers, now impossibly large, branched upward like claws grasping at the night sky. The empty black sockets where eyes should have been stared directly at me.
then with terrifying deliberateness the creature turned its head slightly and smiled a hideous toothy grin no deer could ever produce my breath seized in my lungs as panic set in without hesitation i stepped outside adrenaline overpowering fear Leave me alone, I shouted, voice cracking as I raised my rifle, aiming straight between those empty, haunting sockets. It didn't move, didn't flinch.
It just stood, grinning horribly, mocking me with its presence. Fingers trembling, I squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked loudly, echoing through the trees. My shot was perfect, directly into its chest, but the buck didn't even twitch. Instead, with sickening slowness, it dissolved, its body unraveling into a dark mist, pulled into itself until nothing remained but empty air.
The night fell silent once more, leaving me shaking and alone. I ran back inside, locking the doors again, and spent the rest of the night awake, waiting for dawn. Morning brought no relief. Instead, it brought dread. My phone buzzed, jolting me from exhausted stupor. Reed's wife, panic in her voice, was asking if he'd stayed with me.
My gut twisted painfully as she explained that Reed hadn't come home. Hours later they found his truck abandoned on Route 66, doors wide open, keys still in the ignition. There was no blood, no sign of struggle, nothing, except the now familiar muddy, backward hoof prints trailing off into the forest. I sold the cabin within weeks.
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