These are 5DISTURBING Deep Woods Horror StoriesLinktree:https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in tohttps://www.justcreepy.net/►LucasTimestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:09:06 Story 200:20:20 Story 300:31:54 Story 400:46:44 Story 5Music by:► Myuu's channelhttp://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Musichttp://bit.ly/2f9WQpeBusiness inquiries: ►[email protected]#scarystories #horrorstories #deepwoods 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What happens during the winter hunt?
I was so sure it would be the perfect day for a winter hunt, the kind of morning that promises something special. The car ride to Harrisville State Park felt oddly quiet, except for the heater rattling against the cold and my German Shepherd, Jax, panting in the back seat. Every few miles I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was as fired up as I was.
He always seemed to know when we were headed somewhere with open space and fresh air. Stepping onto the snow at the trailhead, I noticed how it sparkled under a low, gray sky. A deep hush hung over everything. No birds calling, no rustling of leaves, just the crunch under my boots. The crisp bite in the air made me shiver, but I was too eager to let it bother me.
Jax tugged at the flimsy, retractable leash, sniffing and pawing at the ground, as if he already had a lead on something. I tried not to think about how cheaply made that leash felt in my hand.
everything seemed serene at first but i remember spotting strange canine tracks in the snow they looked a bit larger than the usual fox prints i'd seen around these parts my pulse quickened and i could sense jacks honing in on the scent in that moment i convinced myself it was just a stray dog or maybe a coyote passing through Michigan winters can turn even familiar animals into elusive shadows.
Jax's energy rose, and a little voice in the back of my mind warned me to keep calm. Instead, I started talking him up, telling him to find whatever's out there. It was an idiotic move. He was already excited, and my words only fueled his enthusiasm. Before I knew it, the plastic handle of that bargain leash started to bend. I gripped it tighter, but Jax gave one mighty pull, and the cord snapped.
In the blink of an eye, he darted off between the trees, paws kicking up clouds of powder. My hands shook as I shouted for him, but my voice seemed to vanish in the stillness. For a second, I felt rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by the sight of my dog disappearing into a wild expanse.
Then my body lurched forward and I tore after him, trudging through snow that seemed to get deeper with every step. I could see his tracks, spaced far apart from his bounding stride. The forest around me felt larger and colder now that I was alone. My breathing started to get rough, a mix of worry and the frantic pace I was forcing on myself.
if jacks found an actual coyote or something worse he might get hurt and if i couldn't keep up with him he could be gone for good the deeper i went the more anxious i became it felt like each tree watched me rush by not a single branch shifting the hush had turned ominous and i kept expecting something to bolt out of the shadows I tried calling Jax again, voice cracking.
In the distance I heard him barking, but the echo played tricks on my ears, making it impossible to pinpoint his direction. I pressed on, ignoring the tremor in my legs. The ground was slick in places, hidden ice patches waiting for a misstep. Panic started to creep into my thoughts. If I lost the trail, there was no guarantee I'd find it again. Jax was a big dog, but the woods are bigger.
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Chapter 2: What went wrong with the dog during the hunt?
Every crack of an ice-laden branch overhead made me flinch, and I kept checking behind me, convinced something might step out from the trees. When I finally spotted the faint outline of the parking lot, my throat tightened. That battered old car looked like the only safe place on earth. I nearly collapsed against it, fumbling for my keys, my wet gloves making it impossible to grip anything.
Jax hopped in the backseat on his own, tail wagging, while I cranked the heater and peeled off my soaked jacket. I threw my rifle onto the floor, realizing there was no way I'd be firing any shots in this condition. My hands were numb, and I was still bleeding. The first aid kit was tucked under the passenger seat, and I tore into it like a lifeline, bandaging my knee with unsteady hands.
Warm air finally blasted from the vents, but my teeth kept chattering, and I couldn't stop replaying each second of that descent down the hill. Eventually I drove away, the engine's hum mixing with the rush of thoughts in my head. Jack settled in, eyes half-closed. I kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror, feeling a jumbled mess of relief, anger, and gratitude.
That stretch of creek could have become my grave if I'd hit my head or gone under the ice. The miles slipped by in a haze of slush and salted roads. I kept thinking how close I'd come to not making it out. One broken leash, one moment of distraction, and suddenly nature had me in its teeth, ready to swallow me whole. I knew I'd need to get my leg checked out.
I needed dry clothes and something hot to drink. More than anything, though, I needed to get home, to let the warmth of the house chase away the memory of that frigid water. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. I couldn't decide if I felt lucky or just plain foolish. But there was one clear lesson.
Winter hunts aren't games, and careless decisions can turn a simple outing into a nightmare. I limped to my front door, jacks by my side, vowing I'd never let a scrap of cheap plastic determine our fate again. St. Helena Island had this strange way of getting under my skin without warning.
On most days, I hardly noticed how quiet the marshes were, or how the live oaks curved overhead like old gnarled fingers. But on that particular afternoon, the entire island felt charged, like the landscape was waiting for something to happen. It was impossible to ignore how the air hung thick with a tension I couldn't quite name.
I remember stepping off my dirt driveway with my friend Jack, trailing close behind. We did this all the time, wander the woods, poke around the creeks, look for shells or arrowheads. Usually there was something almost comforting about the giant ferns and the moss-draped branches. Except that day, the sky looked washed out and the smell of damp leaves turned cloying.
everything felt a little too still even jack who usually cracked jokes barely spoke the deeper we ventured the more i caught myself glancing back almost convinced someone or something was watching the undergrowth rustled now and again but whenever we spun around there was nothing
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Chapter 3: What mysterious voice do the kids hear in the woods?
My boots crunched through the undergrowth, and I noticed that each step sounded louder than normal. After a good 20 minutes of slow walking, I realized we hadn't heard a single bark. Usually, even if they were on a wrong trail, they'd make some racket. I whistled. Nothing. I tried calling them by name. Still nothing. A tightness settled in my gut.
I kept going, stepping over fallen branches and pushing aside tangles of weeds, hoping to see a flash of fur, hoping they'd burst out barking like they were just playing a trick on me.
the silence hung like a thick curtain there came a point where i decided to cut through a small patch of waist-high brush toward a cow pasture from there i could skirt around to the next hollow and keep an eye out for the dogs as soon as i stepped into that open field i stopped dead in my tracks
Across the ridge that ran parallel to the field, an intense red glow spread out, drenching everything in this unreal color. It wasn't flickering. It wasn't pulsing. It just bathed the entire tree line in crimson. At first, my head tried to rationalize it. Maybe the farmer was having a bonfire, or some kind of brush clearing burned.
But if that was the case, I would have smelled smoke, or seen sparks. This glow looked almost too pure, and it stretched for way too long a distance. I was far enough away that I couldn't make out details. Just the scarlet shade crawling across the treetops. My pulse hammered as I realized there was no flicker, no crackle, no smell at all.
I fumbled with my shotgun, popping out the birdshot shell and loading a slug. It felt silly. Who loads slugs to investigate a weird light? But my instincts were screaming that something about this wasn't right. I knew no one would be out here with a massive bank of red lights, especially not this deep off the road. It almost felt like I was seeing the horizon dyed in blood.
For a moment, I debated marching right up that ridge to see who or what was causing it. My legs felt numb, torn between curiosity and a prickling sense of danger. I could practically taste my own fear. The risk of running into something beyond my comprehension kept me rooted in place. Finally, self-preservation took over.
There are times to be bold, and there are times to get the hell out of there. I opted for the latter. Keeping my flashlight off, I turned around slowly, trying not to make a sound. The brush rustled beneath my feet, leaves crackled, and every little noise made me flinch.
The only thought in my mind was getting back home before that red glow moved or spread, or whatever an otherworldly light might do. By the time I stumbled onto our porch, my breath was ragged, and my hands were shaking. My mom and stepdad were inside, not even looking up from the kitchen table when I started babbling about the red glow.
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Chapter 4: What did the kids find in the hollow tree?
Each burst of lightning lit the edges of the camper, highlighting the shapes around us for a heartbeat. I caught a flash of Yoshi trembling, eyes on the roof. I could barely see my ex-wife, but I heard her breathing, rapid and shaky. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't place what was out there. A person, some wild animal. No clue.
The wind picked up even more, and for a split second, the overhead lights outside blinked on, scattering pale beams across the yard. Normally, they would stay lit if there was movement. but they flickered off again almost immediately, plunging us back into darkness. Another loud thump resonated through the roof. The camper swayed so hard, I thought we'd tip over.
If my dad was outside, I was sure he'd be yelling for us to get inside the cottage, but there was only the storm. I leaned over to my ex-wife, trying to steady my voice as I told her we needed a plan. We were practically trapped in a battered pop-up, completely blind and clueless about what was pounding on us.
The dogs barked uncontrollably, but it felt like their aggression was mixed with raw fear. Honestly, I didn't blame them. It was at that moment I realized how risky it might be to step outside. I thought about my dad's hatchet resting by the fire pit, just a few feet from the camper door, assuming it hadn't been moved. If we had that, maybe we'd feel safer.
But the idea of opening the door without knowing what lurked beyond sent a wave of dread through me. Thunder rattled overhead again, and the roof groaned. Something...
some one sounded like they were moving up there dragging across the fabric my mind raced through every possible explanation a bear a raccoon on steroids or maybe a person messing with us none made much sense not with the weight it felt like we were dealing with I whispered to my ex-wife that if this got worse, we'd send the dogs out first. That plan wasn't my proudest moment, but I was desperate.
She whispered back that she was ready to run the moment I said so. She'd bolt straight to my parents' cottage and bring help. Another strike of lightning lit the interior, revealing the fear on her face. I tried to give a reassuring nod, but deep down, I wasn't sure how we were getting out of this with our nerves intact.
we waited half expecting the roof to rip open the next flash of lightning was so bright i almost shut my eyes then everything went dark again quieter for a few seconds i listened hard the banging had ceased but the rain and wind kept going
i started wondering if we were in the clear or if something out there was merely waiting for us to poke our heads out like fools i knew one thing the night was far from over and none of us were getting any sleep until we figured out what was lurking in that storm i told myself we couldn't stay cooped up in that shaking camper the roof kept groaning and whatever was out there seemed bent on ripping it apart
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Chapter 5: What strange red glow is witnessed in the woods?
Each mark looked at least six or seven inches in length, spaced out too widely for any raccoon or possum. Dad stared at them for a long moment, silent. I could tell he didn't know what to say. He eventually muttered that maybe a big branch had scraped it during a gust, but we both knew that wouldn't explain the weird spacing or how violently the camper rocked.
I hopped down, feeling a new wave of dread. If that was made by a person, how strong did they have to be to lift themselves onto a slick roof in a thunderstorm? If it was an animal, what kind of animal had fingers like that? Dad took a step back and seemed ready to dismiss the whole thing, but he didn't look quite as confident as before. Rainwater kept sliding down my neck, but I barely noticed.
My mind locked on those prints. If we hadn't scrambled out when we did, who knows what might have happened. By the time we got back inside, my ex-wife was already packing up, her expression set. She'd clearly made up her mind that she wasn't spending another second in that camper. We all agreed to cut the weekend short. Mom tried to offer some breakfast, but no one had much appetite.
Even the dog seemed off, tails low, sniffing the corners of the cottage as though expecting another intrusion. No one ever pinpointed what was responsible for that terrifying assault on the camper. My father still drops the big branch explanation whenever the story comes up, though he's never looked me straight in the eye while saying it.
I'm positive we were dealing with something outside the realm of normal late night wildlife.
and though the house and yard went back to their usual calm after that day i've never quite forgotten that stormy night the pounding the rocking and those four marks pressed into the rooftop like a silent warning we left soon after all of us soaked and sleep deprived but still in one piece that alone was a relief yet there's always been this nagging sense that we might have escaped before discovering what truly lurks in the shadows of those mountains
It's a question that still lingers, unanswered, every time I remember that weekend. And trust me, it's impossible not to remember. I was slumped against the fence at the end of our driveway trying to wake up enough to face another dull day of middle school when the rocks under my shoes started shifting. A faint rumble passed beneath my feet, like something colossal was stirring underground.
Before I could process it, the mailbox beside me clattered so hard I thought it would rip off its post. My brother and sister yelped and we all stumbled backward. It was early, barely light, and the whole world seemed to wobble in a way that made my stomach feel strange. After maybe ten seconds of this rolling tremor, everything stilled. An eerie hush swallowed the yard.
No birds, no wind, like nature was stunned by what just happened. Dad rushed out of the house, his face etched with worry, muttering something about power lines. He knelt to examine the new cracks clawing through the dirt near the porch steps. Mom hovered in the doorway, eyes darting between us kids and the yard.
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Chapter 6: What happened after the red glow incident?
Whatever it was, I knew I wasn't going to sleep peacefully until we investigated further. And so, even though my sister warned me over and over that it was a bad idea and Dad had threatened chores for a month, I caught myself making a plan. Eric and my brother were on board. The quake had given us an unexpected day off, and we intended to use it, no matter the risk.
We crept back into that dark mouth of the earth, driven by a reckless need to understand what had been waiting for us behind the ridge.
with only a single lantern to guide our uncertain steps my brother eric and i eased ourselves into the narrow corridor of twisted roots and wet stone every step felt like crossing a forbidden threshold the feeble light casting restless dancing shadows on walls that seemed to whisper secrets of decay the further we went the thicker the air grew suffused with the rank odor of rotting flesh and a sharp metallic tang that burned at the back of my throat
i had to force myself to breathe through my mouth each inhalation a near choke on the stench of something long dead and forgotten soon enough our path widened into a cramped chamber where the beam of our lantern revealed a grotesque scattering of bones i could tell some belonged to small animals a stray dog perhaps a raccoon or even a deer left in a macabre display of nature's indifference the sight was as repulsive as it was mesmerizing
flies buzzed relentlessly around some of the fresher remains adding a constant maddening drone to the silence as we inched along a slow drip began echoing through the confined space each drop measured and deliberate like the ticking of a grim clock counting down our inevitable discovery
i knelt by the wall tracing faint scratch-like marks that ran along the stone and found clumps of coarse dark hair caught in the crevices these marks suggested that something large and agitated had once or still roamed these depths At the far end of the chamber, the ground sloped sharply downward.
The floor became a slick, treacherous path that led us to what appeared to be a natural ledge overlooking a yawning chasm. A sudden burst of hot, humid air surged upward from the pit, as if exhaling from some hidden lung deep in the darkness. Eric fumbled with a ragged scrap of cloth he'd soaked in lighter fluid until we managed to ignite it into a makeshift torch.
its erratic flame trembled over the edge casting a shaky light that barely held back the consuming blackness below in that wavering glow i caught sight of movement a massive fluid shape sliding just beyond our feeble light it moved too quickly to be clearly seen yet its presence was unmistakable
before we could exchange another word a low guttural growl rumbled up from the depths it was a sound so raw and visceral it reverberated in my chest as though the creature itself were speaking directly to my deepest fears then came a roar an explosion of sound that shattered any semblance of calm the impact of that roar was more than mere noise it pounded through my skull making my limbs tremble uncontrollably
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