These are 4 Scary Urban Exploration Horror StoriesLinktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/Timestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:15:59 Story 200:34:23 Story 300:49:29 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 #urbanexploration #urbex 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What is Fort de la Chartreuse?
Now the fort lies abandoned and boarded up, overgrown, forgotten except by urban explorers and local scouts daring enough to sneak in after dark. Tonight was one of those excursions. We had our rules. Strict silence. Total darkness. The road running alongside the fort wall was busy enough that headlights passed often, forcing us to climb quietly and swiftly.
Chapter 2: What are the rules for urban exploration?
we'd anchored ropes at a sheer wall months earlier barely noticeable from the street i went in first as usual slipping silently into the fort ahead of everyone else finding my assigned spot deep inside the tunnels my job was simple
wait silently at a narrow junction directing explorers toward the main path if they hesitated or got turned around once inside the fort everything shifted the air was always precisely fifty seven degrees fahrenheit no matter the season and though the road was close not even the rumble of trucks penetrated these walls
it was like entering a vacuum utter stillness that pressed against your eardrums there was a constant breeze slight but noticeable moving through the tunnels in gentle pulses almost rhythmic like slow breathing i squeezed into my spot a small recessed alcove cut into the brickwork and waited it was pitch black no flashlights permitted only touch and sound even after all these years the place still unsettled me
The tunnels were narrow, tight enough that I had to tilt my shoulders sideways in some passages. Sound bounced strangely here. Footsteps seemed to echo behind rather than ahead, the acoustics tricking you into believing you were being followed. You'd stop, and for a second, there would always be one extra step, a lingering echo that unsettled everyone.
It must have been at least half an hour of silent waiting when I first saw the faint glow down the corridor. I frowned. Somebody had broken the rule. Matches, maybe. Or a tiny lighter. The dim flicker bobbed gently, rhythmic, like someone slowly pacing. But as I watched it approach, I realized something strange. There were no footsteps. None at all.
Just that wavering light moving smoothly down the hallway, impossibly silent. It drew closer, closer, and then, without warning, the light blinked out. Complete darkness returned. I shifted uneasily, feeling a trickle of cold sweat slide down my spine. The hallway felt colder, emptier somehow, despite knowing rationally it couldn't have changed temperature. But my nerves were getting to me.
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Chapter 3: What terrifying thing was encountered in the tunnels?
I took a quiet breath to steady myself. that's when i felt it a sudden slight warmth against my face humid and human a moist breath in the otherwise dry tunnel air i froze completely my muscles locking there was something directly in front of me i could smell it a faint scent of sweat damp earth and old fabric
familiar and yet horribly out of place whoever or whatever stood there had stopped breathing it knew i was there my own breath trapped painfully in my chest as we both stood utterly still neither daring to move my pulse throbbed in my temples deafening in the silence I strained my ears desperately for some clue of movement. A shifting weight, a scrape, a breath. Nothing.
Only silence and the suffocating closeness of the tunnel. Minutes passed like hours, my lungs beginning to burn. Finally, just as my chest spasmed for air, the warmth slowly receded. I exhaled silently, shuddering in relief, trying to convince myself it had only been a trick of my nerves or imagination. But I knew better.
The air shifted again, the faint breeze returning to brush gently across my face. A minute later, a faint light again appeared, this time moving off toward the right, disappearing into another tunnel passage. Then darkness reclaimed the space once more. I was still trying to calm myself when I heard familiar heavy boots coming from the left passage, finally signaling the first of our explorers.
He walked briskly, confident in the dark. As he approached, I stepped forward slightly, whispering instructions, guiding him toward the proper corridor. Before he left, though, curiosity compelled me to quietly ask a single question. Who was first inside tonight? I murmured, already half knowing the answer. He paused briefly, his voice hushed but certain. No one. I was the first one in.
My blood went cold, the certainty of his words chilling me deeper than the constant, oppressive cold of Fort de la Chartreuse. He moved on quietly into the dark, leaving me alone again, waiting for the others, with the unbearable sensation of eyes on me, unseen yet present somewhere deep within the tunnels. After that encounter in the narrow passage, I tried to dismiss it.
My heart was still beating too fast. and each careful step echoed louder in my ears than before maybe it was just paranoia or perhaps sensory confusion from the dark regardless i didn't have the luxury to dwell on it not here deep beneath fort de la chartreuse guiding the rest of the group forward we regrouped in what we called the chapel
It wasn't a real chapel, just a vaulted chamber with a collapsed ceiling, exposing patches of the night sky and scattering faint moonlight on moss-covered rubble. The others were arriving in small clusters, whispering nervously, some laughing off the adrenaline, others tense and silent.
i decided to briefly mention what happened just in case someone else had seen or heard something similar when i did a few laughed quietly assuming it was some trick of the senses but a few faces tightened eyes flicking nervously around the shadowed chamber i didn't push further The dark played games after all, and even seasoned explorers could become unnerved down here.
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Chapter 4: What discoveries were made in the hidden tunnel?
The group murmured quietly, curiosity tinged with caution. We agreed, hesitantly, to check it out. She led us down a familiar path until we reached a collapsed brick wall. Rubble partly cleared away, exposing a cramped opening into darkness. One by one, we squeezed through. Inside, the air was colder, staler, pressing down heavily on my shoulders.
The tunnel was low and narrow, lined with bricks now slick with condensation. I ran my fingertips along them, catching something rough and jagged. We stopped to examine the walls, names. Dozens of names etched crudely into the brickwork, alongside numbers, prisoner IDs perhaps. German names, dated from 1943 and 1944.
The fort had always carried rumors of prisoners held during the occupation, but this was the first tangible proof I'd ever seen. Theo stepped up beside me, tracing a finger along the wall. His voice shook slightly. "'My family name's here,' he said quietly, pointing to a faded carving. "'My grandfather was in the resistance. He was captured, held somewhere in Liège before escaping.'
A chill crawled over my skin. I tried not to think too deeply about what that meant. But as I looked further along, something caught my eye. Fresh marks, clearly recent, not softened by dust or age. Leaning close, I deciphered them easily, heart tightening painfully in my chest. What is the light? The scratches were frantic, uneven, almost desperate.
Before I could speak, a noise echoed down the passage, a steady, rhythmic thud of heavy boots. The group froze instantly. I shone my flashlight beam down the tunnel instinctively, revealing only empty darkness. The footsteps continued, growing louder. But there was nobody visible, no shape emerging from the blackness. Then the beam flickered and went out.
In sudden darkness again, panic began rippling quietly through the group. Selene was breathing fast, whispering something fearful to the others. Theo gripped my arm tightly, holding his breath. Then we heard something else, a faint, steady breathing. It sounded as if someone stood directly behind us, a breath damp and audible. Yet when I turned, I felt only empty space and cold air.
Theo pulled urgently at my sleeve, guiding me back toward the chapel. We stumbled through the narrow opening, trying not to run outright. Behind us the breathing faded, but not entirely. It lingered, quietly present, following just at the edge of hearing. When we finally emerged back into the chapel, I bent over trying to regain composure.
that was when i noticed something new a weathered leather notebook lying on the rubble clearly old but somehow untouched by the moisture or mold covering everything else theo hesitated before picking it up turning carefully through brittle pages until he reached the last written entry dated april nineteen forty four he shined a small penlight on the faded handwriting and began quietly reading
It no longer needs light to see. It moves with memory. It follows breath. Theo looked up at me slowly, eyes wide in horror. The sound of footsteps returned, slow, steady, purposeful, moving through the darkness towards us. My pulse thundered in my ears as the footsteps drew closer. They echoed through the chapel, deliberate and steady.
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Chapter 5: What happened when they found the strange mass?
Gasping, shivering uncontrollably, I twisted around, staring wide-eyed back at the dark opening from which I'd emerged. Nothing followed me. The tunnel sat quiet, empty, black as a grave. Days later, I returned with a small team during daylight. I'd contacted local authorities, insisting they investigate and close off the dangerous sections of the fort.
As we moved slowly through the tunnels again, the beams of our flashlights revealed familiar corridors, now strangely harmless under the glow of bright LED bulbs. When we reached the chapel, my heart skipped sharply. On the wall near where we had discovered the old notebook was a fresh carving. It stood out clearly against the older scratches, deep and jagged, the edges rough with brick dust.
I still breathe. Below it, scratched faintly, almost gently, I read my own full name. I've spent more of my life underground than I'd like to admit. It started as a teenage dare, exploring drainage tunnels, abandoned mines, and the forgotten corridors beneath our quiet town in northern Pennsylvania. My friends Trevor and Zeke were always with me.
Addicted to the rush of squeezing through tight spaces and the strange allure of places no one was ever meant to see. But over the years, adulthood happened, and our expeditions became rare. Jobs, families, responsibilities, life pulled us apart. It was Trevor who suggested one last exploration, a final nostalgic crawl.
He mentioned a drainpipe he'd spotted a couple years ago in Wildcat Hollow, a remote forested area near Tioga State Forest. It had been poking out of a steep hillside, partially hidden by trees and bushes, forgotten and rusted. Curiosity reignited the fire, and we quickly agreed. The forest around Wildcat Hollow felt thicker than usual as we hiked in.
It was late afternoon, with sunlight filtering weakly through a dense canopy. Moss-covered stones lined the ground, and the air carried that familiar damp, earthy smell we knew all too well. Finally, Trevor pointed ahead. I squinted to see a dull glint of corrugated metal, half buried and cloaked in vines.
this has to be it trevor said clearing brush aside zeke looked hesitant but nodded we unpacked our headlamps and tested them the beams flickered weakly in the daylight hardly comforting then one by one we crawled inside The pipe was narrower than it looked. My elbows scraped against the rusted walls as I crawled on hands and knees. Immediately the temperature dropped, the air heavy and stale.
Within a few dozen feet, daylight had entirely vanished behind us. We were submerged in complete darkness except for the thin cones of our lamps illuminating bits of rust, grime, and cobwebs. "'How far does this go?' Zeke whispered, his voice echoing weirdly. "'About six hundred feet to a junction,' Trevor answered quietly, leading us deeper.
I tried to focus only on the rhythm of crawling, ignoring how tight and oppressive the walls felt around me. We pressed on in silence, breaths loud and shallow in the enclosed space. The pipe seemed to narrow gradually, pushing down on my shoulders, squeezing until my heart pounded.
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Chapter 6: What haunting experiences followed the exploration?
Maybe a trapped raccoon or something. That thing didn't feel like a raccoon, Trevor whispered harshly. Jesus. Just keep moving, Zeke pleaded ahead, voice thin and shaky. We pressed forward deeper into the cramped darkness. My mind raced. Something wasn't right. Dead animals were common underground. But this felt different. It felt wrong. Zeke suddenly paused again, voice trembling.
Guys, something's up ahead. It… it smells worse, like something died down here. I see a shape. A… a body maybe. my blood ran cold trevor began to whisper rapidly terrified we should turn back now zeke gagged violently ahead it's too close i cant i can't move any closer i need out now the pipe felt impossibly small trapping us in darkness with that horrible smell
Whatever lay ahead wasn't something we wanted to see. Panic surged through me. Back out, I said urgently, fighting the desperation rising in my voice. We're done. No one argued. We scrambled backward clumsily, feeling trapped and vulnerable. As we passed the lump again, my lamp caught its wet surface, reflecting dark crimson mixed with clumps of black fur. My stomach turned violently.
I hurried past, certain it moved slightly under my touch. No, it was just nerves. We reached the junction room again and climbed frantically back toward the original entrance pipe, squeezing desperately toward daylight. Sunlight poured through the opening as we crawled out, coughing and shaking, covered in that foul darkness. Never again, Zeke gasped, peeling off his shirt.
Bloody residue clung to his skin, thick and foul-smelling. I stared at my own trembling hands. Agreed. We knew better now. Some things were better left buried deep underground. We stood for a while in the clearing outside the pipe, shaking, breathing fresh air like we'd forgotten how good it felt. The late afternoon sun was a welcome shock after the suffocating darkness.
I tried to convince myself it was just a dead raccoon, something ordinary and explainable, but my gut wouldn't accept it. Whatever we had crawled over in that tunnel wasn't anything natural. Trevor rubbed his palms against his jeans, pacing anxiously. Zeke's face was pale, eyes wide with something close to shock. What the hell was that? Trevor finally broke the silence, voice shaking.
He peeled off his jacket, revealing streaks of blackish-red sludge smeared along his arms. The same muck covered my own clothing, making my stomach twist again. Maybe just an animal caught down there, Zeke muttered, sounding unconvinced himself. I glanced at the narrow pipe entrance. Animals don't usually feel warm like that, and the smell, it was wrong. Trevor grimaced, looking at his hands.
I need to get this off me. We moved quickly down toward a stream nearby, trying to scrub off the grime. The water turned a rusty, oily red as it washed over our skin. Zeke was quiet, his breath shallow and shaky. We should leave, he whispered. Forget this ever happened. I agreed silently, but Trevor hesitated, looking back toward the pipe entrance. "'We never turned away before,' he said quietly.
"'This is supposed to be our last run. Are we really going to let it end like this?' Zeke stared at him in disbelief. "'You didn't feel what I felt. You didn't see that thing ahead. It looked like—like a body, but worse.' Trevor clenched his jaw. "'Maybe your eyes were playing tricks.' We can't leave without knowing, I heard myself say, surprising even myself.
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Chapter 7: What unsettling evidence was discovered after the trip?
Whatever that thing was, it wasn't right. I hung up, anxiety thickening inside me. The next day, Trevor messaged about nightmares of his own. Visions of crawling through tunnels that narrowed until the walls pressed tight. and something faceless dragged itself toward him through the dark. My own nightmares intensified, filled with whispers and scratching noises I couldn't escape.
After days of trying to ignore it, curiosity won out. I decided to dig deeper, desperate for some kind of explanation. My searches turned up vague references to construction projects around Tioga State Forest in the early 1970s.
i found old articles describing abandoned developments housing projects abruptly halted due to unspecified complications contractors had fled the site reports said mentioning underground issues hazards the county quietly buried no specifics only hints of problems beneath wildcat hollow The dread in me deepened. Was this connected to what we'd found?
One evening, unable to shake my obsessive thoughts, I unpacked my gear to clean it properly, determined to erase every last trace of that place. As I scrubbed my knee pads under warm water, something caught my eye. Dark strands tangled in the velcro straps. I carefully plucked them free, holding them up to the light. The strands were thick, coarse, and strangely translucent, like insect hairs.
Nausea churned again in my gut. They didn't belong to any animal I knew. Disturbed, I sealed the strands in a plastic bag, then immediately threw it in the trash, washing my hands until they were raw. A few days later, Zeke texted, "'Out of the hospital. Rash cleared, but doctors have no idea what caused it. Never going underground again.'"
Trevor agreed, exhausted by sleepless nights and a lingering dread that neither of us could shake. Yet despite our vows, I felt drawn back to Wildcat Hollow, one last look to reassure myself that nothing had followed us out." I returned alone, anxiety spiking with every step closer to the pipe.
As I approached, I saw that nature was reclaiming the hillside, vines and roots had partially hidden the entrance. The pipe itself looked like it had partially collapsed inward, twisted by some unseen force. I stood there, heart pounding, scanning the surroundings. Near the entrance, beneath thick moss, something caught my eye, a rusted metal sign partially obscured by vegetation.
Hesitantly, I brushed away the moss and stared at the faded words stamped into the metal. Subdrain 4B, biological isolation zone, do not disturb. My blood froze. Biological isolation. Isolation from what? From whom? My mind flashed back to the warm, twitching mass we'd crawled over. Whatever it was, someone had known about it.
Someone who'd buried the secret deep underground decades ago, hoping it would never surface. I stepped back, feeling a deep chill sink into my bones. As I turned to leave, something stirred behind the pipe opening, a faint, wet rustle. I didn't dare look back. Panic surged through me, and I hurried away, faster and faster, driven by a primal instinct to flee from whatever still lingered there.
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