These are 4 Unnerving Forest Hiking & DEEP WOODS Horror Stories Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:18:27 Story 2 00:35:43 Story 3 00:46:57 Story 4 Music by: ► Myuu's channel http://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Music http://bit.ly/2f9WQpe Thumbnail art: ►Just Creepy Business inquiries: ►[email protected] #scarystories #horrorstories #deepwoods #forest #parkrangerstories 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What makes returning to your hometown feel strange?
There's something about going back to your hometown that makes everything feel smaller. The streets, the trees, even the sky. All of it seems like it's been put through a wash cycle and shrunk just enough to feel foreign. That's how it was driving back to Ashford.
Chapter 2: What childhood memories spark a hiking adventure?
It had been nearly a decade since I'd last been home, and even though I recognized every cracked road and sagging telephone pole, it felt like looking at an old photograph. Familiar, but off. Adam had been the reason I made the trip. We'd stayed in touch, calls on birthdays, a postcard every Christmas, but life had pulled us in different directions.
so when he called and said he'd be in town for a week we decided to make it count the plan was simple relive some old memories drink more than we should and pretend we weren't a couple of guys creeping toward middle age the first few nights were easy we sat in his parents backyard beers in hand swapping stories that had worn smooth with time most of them revolved around the woods as kids we practically lived out there
Chapter 3: What unexpected challenges arise while hiking?
his family's farm bordered miles of forest and every weekend i'd bike over with my hand-me-down camping gear ready to disappear until sunday night we built forts caught crawfish and pretended we were explorers charting uncharted territory it was freedom in its purest form it wasn't long before the nostalgia turned into a challenge
We should go back, Adam said, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. He leaned back in his chair, the firelight throwing shadows across his face. One last adventure. I laughed, shaking my head. We're not exactly fourteen anymore. You realize we'd probably throw our backs out trying to set up a tent. We don't need tents. We can bring hammocks, just like the old days. Besides, it's just one night.
What's the worst that could happen? It was the kind of logic that got us into trouble as kids, and it worked just as well now. The plan was set. One night, one hike. We'd follow the old railroad tracks, but this time we'd head west, away from the routes we knew. Adam called it exploring the unknown. I called it a terrible idea, but I agreed anyway.
The morning of the trip, my wife Julie drove us to the drop-off point, the same spot we used as kids. She made a show of rolling her eyes as we unloaded our gear. "'You two are ridiculous,' she said, leaning out the car window. "'Just don't come back with poison ivy or broken bones.' "'Yes, Mom,' Adam called back with a grin. She drove off, leaving us alone on the gravel shoulder."
the tracks stretched ahead of us rusted and overgrown the forest framed them like a tunnel and for a moment it was easy to imagine we were kids again about to embark on some grand adventure adam clapped me on the shoulder ready the day passed easily enough the tracks were the same as i remembered quiet remote and surrounded by trees so thick you could barely see the sky
We stopped now and then, poking around old bridges and overgrown clearings, joking about how out of shape we were. Every so often we'd hear the faint rustle of animals moving through the underbrush, but it was the kind of sound you don't think twice about when you've spent enough time in the woods. As the sun dipped lower, the tracks led us into a denser part of the forest.
The trees here were older, their branches twisted like arthritic fingers. The light filtering through was dim, giving everything a muted, grayish tint. Adam was a few steps ahead, humming some song I didn't recognize, when I noticed the quiet. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that presses down on you, thick and heavy. Even Adam seemed to notice, his humming trailing off mid-note.
feels like we're in the middle of nowhere he said his voice a little too loud that's kind of the point isn't it i replied trying to keep my tone light we picked a spot to camp just off the tracks in a small clearing surrounded by gnarled trees Adam unpacked his hammock while I set about gathering wood for a fire.
The ground was soft, littered with decades of fallen leaves, and the air smelled damp, like rain that hadn't come yet. It should have been peaceful, but something about the clearing made me uneasy. Maybe it was the way the trees seemed to lean inward, like they were closing us off from the rest of the world. We didn't say much as we ate, the shadows stretching long and thin as the light faded.
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Chapter 4: What eerie experiences occur in the deep woods?
Or maybe we weren't. Either way, the sense of freedom we'd chased as kids was nowhere to be found. What replaced it was something quieter, something that crept in at the edges of the firelight and stayed just out of sight. By the time we climbed into our hammocks, the fire was little more than embers.
The forest wrapped around us, thick and impenetrable, and I told myself that tomorrow would feel different. Tomorrow we'd laugh about how paranoid we'd been. Tomorrow, we'd be back to our old selves. But as I lay there, staring up at the black void where the sky should have been, I couldn't help but think of Julie's parting words. Maybe we were ridiculous. Maybe this was a mistake.
I didn't say anything to Adam, though. He wouldn't have wanted to hear it. And truth be told, I didn't want to hear it either. Morning came slower than I expected. I don't think I ever truly slept, just floated in that in-between place where you're aware of every creak and shuffle around you.
Adam stirred first, stretching out of his hammock with a grunt that sounded more like an animal than a man. Coffee? he asked, rubbing his face. We didn't have coffee, just a few protein bars and some water, which we ate in silence while the forest woke up around us. The trees seemed less oppressive in the daylight, though the shadows still felt deeper than they had any right to be.
adam was cheerful enough cracking jokes about how soft we'd gotten since the old days i tried to laugh along but my mind kept drifting to the plan the tracks the unknown we packed up camp quickly and got moving
the railroad stretched on like an old scar through the forest the rails buckled in places and almost entirely swallowed by weeds it felt like we were the first people to walk this stretch in years the sun climbed higher warming the air and for a while things felt almost normal Adam started humming again, some off-key tune I vaguely recognized but couldn't place.
It echoed faintly through the trees. Then the forest started to change. The trees grew taller and closer together, their branches twisting together like a tangle of wires overhead. The air smelled heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly sour. The ground along the tracks became uneven, with chunks of rusted rail jutting up at odd angles. I almost tripped more than once.
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Chapter 5: What unsettling discoveries do they make in the forest?
Adam stopped humming. We were rounding a bend when the tracks opened into a small clearing. It wasn't much, just a break in the trees where the sun cut through in pale, watery shafts. But in the middle of it was something we didn't expect. A building, or what was left of one.
it looked ancient though i couldn't have told you how long it had been there the walls were stone moss-covered and crumbling with vines twisting through every crack the roof had partially collapsed and jagged beams jutted out like broken ribs there were no windows just narrow slits that might have been for arrows or light, though both seemed impossible now.
It wasn't large, no more than twenty feet across, but it felt wrong, too solid for something so decayed, too intentional. "'Is that a church?' Adam asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "'Maybe,' I said, though the word felt inadequate. Churches are supposed to feel welcoming, even the old ones.' This didn't. We moved closer, not because we wanted to, but because standing still felt worse.
As we approached, the smell hit us. It wasn't rot exactly, but something sharp, like iron and rain-soaked wood. I looked at Adam, but he was already stepping toward the opening where a door might have once been. "'Adam,' I called out. He didn't stop. Inside the building was dark. The floor was littered with debris, splinters of wood, fragments of stone, and what looked like shards of pottery.
Symbols were carved into the walls, crude shapes that reminded me of stick figures but stretched and distorted. Circles overlapped in ways that made no sense, their edges jagged and uneven.' "'Who the hell would build something out here?' Adam asked, running his hand over one of the carvings. "'Nobody in their right mind,' I muttered, glancing around.
The air felt cooler inside, but it didn't bring relief. It clung to the skin, thick and still. Adam bent down, brushing leaves off something half-buried in the dirt. He pulled up what looked like a piece of bone, but it was too small to be anything human. "'Animal,' he asked, holding it out." Probably, I said, though I wasn't sure. I didn't want to be sure.
Well, that's creepy, Adam said, tossing the bone aside. Let's get out of here before we find something worse. I didn't argue. We stepped back into the clearing, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. Adam tried to laugh, shaking his head like it was all some kind of joke. "'Bet this place has some wild ghost stories,' he said, forcing a grin. But the grin didn't last.
We stood there for a moment, looking back at the ruin. The forest around it seemed darker, the light from the clearing barely touching the edges. I didn't want to turn my back on it, but we did anyway." We made camp again before nightfall, this time a little farther off the tracks, in a spot where the trees were thinner.
Adam cracked open a bag of trail mix and tried to lighten the mood with a story about a girl he dated in college. I half listened, nodding in the right places, but my eyes kept drifting toward the direction of the tracks, toward the ruin. The night settled over us quickly, the darkness swallowing the last bits of daylight. Adam climbed into his hammock, and soon his breathing evened out.
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Chapter 6: How does fear manifest during a camping trip?
the fire had burned itself out hours ago leaving only a few glowing embers that did little to fight the creeping cold i hadn't slept my ears straining against the quiet listening for whatever had snapped those branches every rustle of leaves every shifting shadow felt amplified
my hammock swayed slightly as i adjusted myself gripping the edge like i might spring out at any moment adam was still snoring lightly blissfully unaware i envied him he'd always been better at brushing things off at convincing himself there was nothing to worry about I thought about waking him, but what would I say?
Hey, there's something in the woods, probably just an opossum, but it's creeping me out. He'd laugh me off, or worse, dismiss it entirely and roll back over. A sound broke the quiet. Not an animal cry or the whisper of wind. It was lower, rhythmic, chanting. I froze, every muscle tightening as I listened. The sound carried from the direction of the tracks.
It wasn't loud, not at first, but it grew steadily. The rhythm was unsettling. Words, if they were words, I didn't recognize. They flowed like water over rocks, uneven and jagged, yet strangely deliberate. Sliding out of my hammock as quietly as I could, I crouched low near Adam's. I nudged his shoulder, whispering his name. He groaned, half asleep, and I shook him harder. Adam, wake up.
What's your deal? He mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Then he stopped, his head tilting slightly, hearing it too. That, I whispered. What is that? He didn't answer. The chanting was louder now, coming from the direction of the ruin. It was steady and relentless, almost mechanical in its rhythm, but layered. There were too many voices for it to be just a couple of people.
They overlapped in a way that felt... wrong. We should check it out, Adam said, his voice low. You're out of your mind, I hissed. We're not going anywhere near that. He was already pulling on his boots. It could be kids messing around, or some weird church group. Let's just see what's going on. Against every instinct I had, I followed him.
there wasn't time to argue and staying behind felt worse we crept through the trees sticking close to the thicker shadows the chanting grew louder with every step cutting through the night like a blade when we reached the top of the hill overlooking the tracks we saw it the ruin was lit from within a flickering golden glow that danced out through the broken slits in the stone walls the voices rose and fell in unison now
a chaotic harmony that seemed to pull at the air itself. Adam crouched beside me, his eyes locked on the scene below. "'What the hell is this?' he muttered. I didn't answer. I couldn't. Figures moved inside the ruin, their shadows twisting unnaturally against the walls. They moved as if they weren't entirely in control of their own limbs, stiff, deliberate, and jerky all at once."
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Chapter 7: What signs indicate danger in the woods?
One figure stepped into view, tall, broad, with a strange mask covering their face. The mask looked carved, almost tribal, with sharp angles and hollow eyes. They raised something over their head, a bundle, wrapped in what looked like cloth and twine. The chanting stopped abruptly, replaced by a long, guttural moan that seemed to echo from the forest itself. I grabbed Adam's arm.
We need to leave, now. He nodded, for once not arguing, and we began backing away slowly. As we moved, my foot hit something solid. I looked down and nearly screamed. A small wooden carving lay in the dirt, etched with the same jagged symbols we'd seen on the ruin. It looked freshly made, as though someone had placed it there deliberately. The chanting started again, louder this time.
It was coming from more than one direction now. They're outside, Adam whispered. They're surrounding us. Panic surged through me, and we bolted, no longer caring about staying quiet. We ran back toward our camp, tripping over roots and tearing through branches. Behind us, lights flickered through the trees, moving erratically, as if whoever carried them was searching, or chasing.
At the campsite, we didn't stop to gather our things. Adam grabbed his flashlight, and I snatched the map. We sprinted toward the tracks, using them as a guide. The lights were closer now, bobbing and weaving in a way that didn't make sense. Shadows danced wildly, some tall, some impossibly thin, all of them moving far faster than we were. What do they want? Adam yelled, his voice hoarse.
Just keep running, I shouted back. The chanting rose again, overlapping and chaotic, filling the air until it felt like it was pressing into my skull. The forest blurred around us, the trees seeming to fold in on themselves. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I didn't dare stop. We stumbled onto a gravel road, the sudden openness disorienting.
I looked back, expecting to see the lights bursting from the tree line, but they stopped just short of it. The figures stood at the edge, their lanterns swaying. They didn't cross. Adam flagged down a passing truck, waving his arms frantically. The driver, a middle-aged man with a face like leather, hesitated before unlocking the doors.
You boys look like you've seen a ghost, he said as we scrambled in. Drive, Adam barked. Just drive. As the truck pulled away, I turned to look out the back window. The figures were still there, watching. One by one, they raised their lanterns high, the light flickering like fire. Then they turned and disappeared into the trees. The driver dropped us at a gas station in the next town over.
We didn't talk. We didn't need to. Whatever we had stumbled into, it wasn't over, not for them, not for us. The road narrowed as the trees pressed in closer, their thick trunks rising like ancient sentinels. The gravel crackled under the tires, and every bump jostled our gear in the back seat. Megan sat beside me, scrolling through her phone even though the service had disappeared miles ago.
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Chapter 8: What is the significance of the carved warning?
The map rested crumpled on her lap, its edges damp from being shoved in the cup holder earlier. This is it, I said, glancing at the GPS one last time before it froze. The sign for the Black Hollow trailhead had been little more than a weathered plank nailed to a tree, half hidden by moss. It could have been a trap for all we knew, but the map and the directions matched.
Megan tossed her phone into the bag at her feet and leaned forward, scanning the woods like she was searching for something specific.
feels a little empty out here she said that's the idea isn't it i tried to sound casual but there was something about the stillness that made me grip the wheel tighter we passed an rv parked crookedly on the roadside its paint was peeling and one of its windows had been patched with duct tape Outside stood two people, both tall, both watching.
The man's jeans were frayed, and his t-shirt hung loose like it hadn't been washed in weeks. The woman, barefoot, clutched what looked like a mug. Neither waved, smiled, or even moved. They just stood there, eyes tracking our car as it rolled by. I nodded, a quick, polite acknowledgement. Megan stiffened beside me but didn't say anything until we were well past.
They look like they've been waiting for something, she said. Yeah, probably waiting for someone to teach them how to use shampoo, I joked, hoping to lighten the mood. She didn't laugh. In the rearview mirror, the RV shrank into the distance, but the figures remained. Even through the haze of dust, I could see them, perfectly still.
The trailhead appeared minutes later, a clearing barely big enough to fit two cars, though ours was the only one there. I parked crookedly under a sagging fir branch and killed the engine.
the silence that followed was startling no distant traffic no hum of power lines nothing but the occasional rustle of leaves megan hopped out stretching her arms over her head as i grabbed our packs from the trunk she was already tying her boots when i swung my bag over my shoulder we better get moving she said it's a long hike The trailhead looked untouched.
The dirt was smooth, no footprints or tire tracks other than ours. A weathered sign marked the start of the Black Hollow Trail, its letters barely visible beneath decades of grime. I caught a whiff of something faint, like old firewood and wet soil, as we stepped into the forest. The first stretch of the hike was uneventful, though the trees seemed closer together than they should have been.
Their roots clawed at the trail like the forest itself didn't want anyone passing through. Megan was ahead, snapping pictures with her camera. The faint click of the shutter broke the quiet every few minutes. "'Look at this,' she said, pointing at a tree with deep gouges carved into its bark. "'Bear marks?'
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