Just Creepy: Scary Stories
6+ Hours of True Scary Stories Told in the Rain (Compilation) DEEP WOODS & FOREST ENCOUNTERS
Mon, 30 Dec 2024
Dive into a 6+ hour compilation of DEEP WOODS & FOREST horror stories from past videos, enhanced with soothing rain sounds to help you drift off to sleep. These Rainy Night Horror Stories create a calm and tranquil atmosphere, delivering uninterrupted tales of suspense and terror. This collection features a mix of chilling stories for the perfect blend of eerie and relaxing. Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ 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 #scarystoriesforsleeping #deepwoods #forest 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What happens when a family goes camping in the woods?
I've always loved the woods. There's something about the way the trees swallow you whole, cutting you off from the static of the world. But this time, they felt different. Not welcoming. Not vast and free. Just… wrong. It started the second we pulled off the gravel road and into the clearing. Boone, our older lab, was pacing in the back seat before I even put the car in park.
Juno, who's usually the bold one, wouldn't stop whining. Looks perfect, right? I forced a smile, glancing at my wife Claire. She nodded, though her brow was furrowed. Tyler, our son, jumped out before I could say anything else, clutching his little backpack. Looks like a movie, he yelled as Boone bolted past him barking at the tree line. Boone, I called, and he froze, tail low, ears pinned back.
He trotted back slowly, nose to the ground like something was out there. It put me on edge. Boone wasn't scared of anything. We got to work setting up camp. The clearing was big enough for the tent, the fire pit, and a spot for Tyler to play around, all wrapped in a thick wall of trees. Too thick, almost. It felt like the forest was watching us.
Claire must have noticed it too, because she stayed close while unpacking, glancing over her shoulder more than usual. "'You hear that?' she asked at one point, pausing mid-step. I stopped too, listening. It took me a second to realize what was missing. The birds, the damn birds. No chirping, no rustling, nothing but the faint hum of the wind through the pines.'
it's just quiet out here i said though it felt like a lie even as it left my mouth by the time we lit the fire that night my unease hadn't gone away boone and juno sat stiffly by the fire their eyes tracking something beyond the glow tyler laughed as he roasted marshmallows oblivious Claire stared at the fire like it was the only thing grounding her.
It started small, a crack of a branch in the distance. Boone stood immediately, growling low, another crack closer this time. Juno joined him, her hackles up. "'Probably a deer,' I muttered, though my hand drifted to the shotgun I'd propped against the tent. The footsteps weren't like a deer, too slow, deliberate, heavy.
They circled us, crunching leaves and snapping twigs, staying just out of sight." Boone barked sharply, launching into the darkness, but stopped dead at the edge of the firelight, growling like he didn't want to go farther. "'Stay back!' I shouted into the night, gripping the shotgun, hoping the noise would scare off whatever it was. Silence. Not even a shuffle. The forest held its breath.
I didn't sleep that night. Every time the footsteps started again, I would freeze, praying it was just an animal.' But by morning, I was certain of one thing. We weren't alone. The morning didn't bring any relief. If anything, the forest felt heavier in the daylight, like it was closing in on us. The birds were still silent, the air stale, and Boone and Juno hadn't relaxed one bit.
Boone sniffed constantly, his nose low to the ground, while Juno stuck so close to Tyler you'd think she was glued to him. Let's take a walk, Claire suggested, trying to ease the tension. Her smile was forced, but I agreed. Anything to shake off the unease from the night before. We followed an overgrown trail just beyond the clearing.
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Chapter 2: What eerie events unfold during their first night?
what took you so long she asked her tone light but her eyes wary nothing i said slipping the key into my pocket just ran into someone i didn't tell her about the woman or the key not yet not until i knew what the hell was going on By the time the sun rose on our fifth day in the woods, I was ready to pack up and go.
Emma hadn't slept much after the weird encounter the night before, and Max had been on edge, growling at every creak and snap of a branch. I tried to tell myself it was just the isolation messing with me, that the woman was probably some eccentric hiker with zero sense of personal boundaries. But deep down, I didn't believe that.
still i didn't want to freak emma out any more than she already was so i convinced her we'd report the incident to the rangers on our way to the next trailhead we'd put some distance between us and her but that plan unraveled before we even left the site The first sign something was wrong came when we walked past the woman's campsite, or at least the campsite where she'd been staying.
It was trashed, completely obliterated, tent poles were snapped like twigs, and bits of fabric hung from the surrounding trees like some grotesque art installation.
trash food and clothing were scattered everywhere as if the whole place had been ransacked emma nudged me and whispered was it a bear i didn't answer because i wasn't sure max sniffed at the air then whimpered and tucked his tail between his legs something he hadn't done in years whatever had happened here wasn't normal Then I saw the stones.
In the middle of the wreckage was a circle of rocks, carefully arranged, each one marked with jagged scratches that almost looked like runes. At the center of the circle was the rusted key, the same damn key. My stomach turned. I'd left it in my pocket last night, I was sure of it. And yet, there it was, sitting in the dirt like it had always been there. "'What the hell is that?'
Emma asked, her voice low. "'Nothing.' I lied, grabbing her arm. "'We should let the rangers deal with this. Come on.' She hesitated, her eyes flicking between me and the circle of stones, but eventually nodded. I didn't look back as we walked away. The ranger station was less than a mile from camp, but the walk felt endless. The trail was eerily quiet and
with no birds or rustling leaves to break the silence. Emma tried making small talk to lighten the mood, but I could tell she was just as on edge as I was. When we got to the station, I explained everything to the ranger on duty, a tall, broad-shouldered guy named Brian. He listened, his expression calm, but I could see the flicker of unease in his eyes.
"'That sight's been vacant for a while,' he said after I described the woman." "'No, it hasn't,' Emma cut in. "'We saw her staying there. She had a tent, and she was—' She trailed off, realizing how crazy it sounded. Brian scratched his beard and glanced out the window. "'I'll take a look,' he said finally. "'Probably just some squatter. It happens more than you'd think.'
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Chapter 3: What do they discover at the abandoned campsite?
The air was thick with moisture and the silence was still wrong. No birds. No insects. Just the faint drip of dew falling from the branches. I glanced around the clearing, scanning for anything out of place. My tent was intact, my gear untouched. But there was something... off. The trees seemed closer than they had the night before, their dark trunks looming through the fog like silent sentinels.
I busied myself with breaking camp, forcing my thoughts into practical tasks. Pack up the sleeping bag, fold the tent, double-check the map and compass. But as I worked, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
it wasn't just paranoia it was physical that prickling sensation on the back of your neck the instinct that makes you turn around even when you know no one's there by the time i hoisted my pack onto my shoulders and started hiking i was practically counting the seconds until i could see the road again
The trail I'd mapped out wasn't an official one, just a series of game trails and landmarks, but I knew it well enough to keep a steady pace despite the fog. The first mile was uneventful, but the silence was suffocating, and every crunch of my boots on the frozen ground sounded deafening.
i didn't notice the clearing until i was almost in it one moment i was pushing through the underbrush and the next the trees opened up into a wide circular space i stopped dead in my tracks my breath catching in my throat In the center of the clearing, a deer carcass hung from a low branch, strung up by its hind legs.
Its belly had been split open, the entrails removed and piled neatly beneath it. The blood was fresh, glistening in the dim light. Flies buzzed lazily around the scene, but there was no other movement. No sound except the faint rustle of leaves in the distance. I froze, my mind racing. Hunters? But no hunter would do this. It was too precise, too deliberate. The entrails weren't discarded.
They were arranged, almost ritualistic. And who would leave a kill like this in the middle of the woods? Even in the cold, decomposition would set in fast. It didn't make sense. I took a shaky step back, then another, my boots crunching against the frost. That's when I saw it, tracks in the snow. Not animal tracks. Boot prints. Big ones.
Leading from the base of the tree into the dense underbrush on the far side of the clearing. Whoever had done this was still out here. My stomach lurched. I turned and bolted. The pack on my back slowed me down, but I didn't dare stop. The trees blurred around me as I crashed through the underbrush, branches clawing at my arms and face.
I didn't know how long I ran, but when I finally stopped, gasping for air, I realized I'd lost my bearings. Everything looked the same in the fog, the same trees, the same pale ground. I pulled out my compass with shaking hands, forcing myself to focus. South. I just needed to head south. The road was somewhere that way. The crunching sound came again, faint and far off.
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Chapter 4: What terrifying encounter do they face in the forest?
We'll make sure he doesn't get out again. I nodded, but I didn't say anything. Words wouldn't make it go away. That night, as I locked every door and window, I couldn't shake the feeling that something else was still out there, hiding in the shadows of the smoky mountains. A week passed, but the nightmares didn't.
every time i closed my eyes i saw him his mud-covered body charging down the hill the scream that didn't sound human the boulder smashing into the creek i couldn't sleep couldn't focus and every time i thought about biking the trails again my legs felt like jelly I wanted to believe it was over. The man, the thing, had been caught, locked up in some facility where he couldn't hurt anyone.
But the woods didn't feel safe anymore. It was like the shadows there had swallowed the part of me that loved the smoky mountains. A few days later, I got a call. It was Carl. Ryan, he said, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.
i hate to ask but can you come down to the ranger station the sheriff's office needs you to clarify a few things from your statement i didn't want to go hell i didn't want to think about that night again but something in carl's tone something shaken made me agree
when i got to the station karl met me outside he looked worse than before like he hadn't slept in days his usual bravado was gone replaced with a nervous energy that made him jumpy he didn't say much as he led me inside the sheriff was there along with a couple of deputies They asked me to go over my account of that night. Every detail, every sound, every moment. I told them what I remembered.
The rocks, the figure on the ridge, the scream, the chase. They nodded, taking notes, but their eyes kept darting to each other like there was something they weren't saying. When I finished, one of the deputies asked, You're sure he didn't speak? Didn't say anything intelligible? No, I said. It was just screaming, like... like he wasn't human.
The deputy glanced at the sheriff, who gave him a sharp look. Carl cleared his throat, breaking the tension. Thanks, Ryan. That's all we needed. You're free to go. I stood to leave, but something about the way Carl was looking at me, like he wanted to say more but couldn't, made me pause. "'Is there something you're not telling me?' The room went quiet. The sheriff looked at Carl, then back at me.
"'It's nothing you need to worry about,' he said. "'The man's been transferred to a secure facility. You're safe.' Safe. The word felt hollow, like they didn't even believe it themselves. On my way out, Carl followed me to the parking lot. Ryan, he said, lowering his voice. I didn't want to say this in there, but we've been getting reports. Strange ones. "'Strange how?'
I asked, my stomach tightening. "'Other people have heard it,' he said. "'The scream. A few hikers, some campers near the lake, and last night, one of our trail cameras picked up movement in the same area where you were attacked.' My chest tightened. "'It's him. He escaped.' "'No,' Carl said quickly. "'The man's accounted for. He's under constant supervision in a facility two states over.
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Chapter 5: How do they react to the dangers lurking in the woods?
i threw the door open and climbed in slamming it shut just as he reached the edge of the parking lot the car's interior light flicked on and i locked the doors with a trembling hand for a second everything was silent except for my ragged breathing he stopped at the edge of the parking lot just beyond the glow of the lamp-post
he stood there his chest heaving his face slack but his eyes focused he was watching me his head tilting slightly as though trying to decide what to do next i fumbled with the key shoving it into the ignition the engine sputtered to life and my hands gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white i shifted into reverse my foot slamming on the pedal as i backed away from him
That's when he moved. He sprinted toward the car, his arms flailing unnaturally at his sides, his face twisting into something that looked like rage or hunger. I shifted into drive and floored it, gravel spraying under my tires as I tore out of the lot. I didn't look back at first. I couldn't.
My eyes were locked on the road ahead, the shadows of the trees rushing past in the weak glow of my headlights. But something told me to check the rearview mirror. He was there, standing in the middle of the parking lot, framed in the fading light of the lamppost. His head tilted again, that same unnatural angle, and he raised one hand, like he was waving. I didn't stop.
my heart pounded as i sped down the dark winding road the silence of the night broken only by the hum of the engine and the sound of my own gasping breaths i drove for what felt like hours though it was probably only a few minutes until i reached the edge of town only then did i finally pull over my hands shaking so badly i could barely turn the key to kill the engine
I sat there, gripping the steering wheel, staring at the empty road in front of me. My mind raced, replaying everything. The splashes, the footsteps, the way his eyes had locked onto mine like I was prey. I told myself it was over. I was safe, but I couldn't stop looking at the trees lining the road, their shadows shifting in the breeze.
When I got home, my friends were already there, sitting on the porch with a six-pack waiting for me. They laughed when I pulled into the driveway, probably ready to tease me for being late. But when they saw my face, their smiles dropped. I told them everything, every detail, from the first splash at the creek to the moment I sped out of the parking lot.
They tried to laugh it off at first, but I could see the unease in their eyes. When I told them about the man, the way he moved, the way he watched me, one of them muttered something about meth heads or a prank gone wrong. But I knew better. The next morning, I called the police. I expected them to brush it off, and for the most part, they did.
An officer came out to meet me and I took him to the trail. i pointed out where i'd seen the man where i'd dropped my keys but there was nothing no footprints no disturbed gravel it was like he'd never been there the officer gave me a half-hearted promise to keep an eye on the area and left but as i turned to leave i noticed something
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Chapter 6: What strange occurrences follow them after leaving the woods?
It started low, almost inaudible. But it grew louder, spreading out behind us like fog. It wasn't a human laugh. It was ragged, choked, like someone trying to force the sound out of a throat that didn't work anymore. The noise clawed its way into my brain and I swear I could feel it vibrating in my bones. Lucas heard it too. He let out this strangled, panicked noise. Half a yell, half a sob.
I couldn't look at him. I couldn't stop. We were barreling down the other side of the bridge now, the road sloping into a straight stretch that led toward the blockade we'd climbed earlier. And the footsteps were still there, still chasing us. The blockade appeared suddenly in the beam of Lucas's light.
he skidded to a stop so fast i nearly slammed into him the tree the damn tree he shouted his voice cracking it was still there the gnarled mess of branches blocking the road just as deliberate as before we have to climb it i choked out already jumping off my bike we didn't have time to think lucas dropped his bike and scrambled forward hauling himself up the dead roots his hands slipping on the dry wood
i shoved my bike to the ground and followed the air around us feeling thick like the forest was closing in and then i heard it the crunch of gravel right behind me i looked down in the thin cold light of my bike i saw a hand reaching for me from the darkness It wasn't a hand though, not really.
The fingers were too long, too stiff, the skin stretched gray and tight, like it had been left out in the sun for weeks. I scrambled up, my palms scraping against the wood, something cold and sharp grazing my ankle as I pulled myself over the top. Lucas was already on the other side, his face pale and slick with sweat.
move he shouted grabbing my arm and dragging me down i stumbled and fell to my knees on the gravel panting so hard i thought i'd pass out but i didn't stop we ran the road stretched ahead of us like an endless tunnel but i could see it now the faint flickering glow of the street lights beyond the trees we ran toward it like drowning men clawing for the surface
My legs felt like they were made of stone, my vision swimming, but I kept going. And all the while, I heard it behind us. The footsteps, the scraping and the laughing. The sound followed us to the edge of the forest. I didn't dare look back, even when we burst out onto the main road and collapsed in the dirt.
For a long moment, we just lay there, gasping, our bodies shaking so hard I thought we'd fall apart. The light from the street lamps washed over us like salvation. Lucas was curled on his side, holding his knee where he'd scraped it on the tree. I sat up and looked back at the hollow. It was silent. Empty. The forest just sat there, black and still, like it hadn't just tried to kill us.
Lucas let out a shaky breath and sat up next to me. Did you- He stopped. I turned to him. What? His face was pale, eyes wide and empty. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. Did you see their faces? I shook my head, my throat too tight to answer. Did you see their feet? He asked, trembling. They weren't touching the ground. We didn't go back for the bikes. We didn't go back at all.
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Chapter 7: What is the significance of the bell sounds in the story?
I tried to convince myself it had been nothing, a bad dream stirred up by too much food and too little sleep, but I knew better. Dan didn't say much over breakfast. He just sat at the table, chewing his toast like it was chewing him back, and stared at the window. Outside, the forest loomed in the distance, the trees thick and dark even under the weak winter sunlight. I finally broke the silence.
"'We need to go back,' dan looked up blinking go back where to the woods to the car we didn't imagine that dan i didn't say we imagined it he avoided my gaze but i caught his hands clenched into fists on the table Dan had always been the practical one, never prone to paranoia or flights of fancy. That's why seeing him rattled unnerved me more than anything. You don't want to know who that was?
I pressed. What he was doing there? I want to forget it happened, Maya. That's what I want. But I couldn't. Something about that man, how silently he moved, how he melted into the shadows, was burned into my mind. So, after lunch, I convinced Dan to go back, just for a minute, I said, grabbing my camera and pulling on my coat. We'll check it out in daylight. I just... I need to know.
Dan sighed but grabbed the flashlight anyway. It didn't feel like overkill. Not after last night. The walk back felt completely different in the light. The path was smaller than I remembered. Frost-covered gravel and muddy patches where the sun had started to thaw the ice. Birds chirped in the distance. Everything seemed too… normal. Like the forest was gaslighting us.
When we reached the spot where the car had been, I stopped short. It was gone. See, Dan said, sounding almost relieved. He left, told you we shouldn't have come back. But I stepped closer, staring at the dirt where the tires had been. There were faint impressions still there, the ground frozen and soft at the edges.
You could see where the car had backed up, deep ruts in the mud, then just disappeared. "'Where did he go?' I muttered. Dan turned away. "'Maya, let's—' "'Hold on. Something else caught my eye. A bit of fabric, small and pink, caught on a bramble a few feet from the tire marks. I bent down and pulled it free. It was a glove. A child's glove, tiny and muddied, one fingertip torn.
"'Dan,' I said, holding it up. He squinted, his face darkening. "'Where'd that come from?'
i don't know but i trailed off as something shiny caught the sunlight a few feet further into the brush i moved toward it ignoring dan's grumble of protest my boots sank into the wet ground brambles clawing at my pants as i pushed into the undergrowth what i found made my stomach turn it was a knife rusted and buried halfway into a tree trunk
someone had jammed it there with enough force to leave the bark splintered around the blade a hunting knife but old like it had been sitting there for weeks maybe months jesus dan whispered behind me what the hell is this i turned slowly heart pounding in my ears
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Chapter 8: How does the story conclude with the haunting presence?
i felt it in my chest the memory of that drop the place where it happened the bridge waited at the bottom a flat black smear across the snow my hands tightened on the wheel i told myself to breathe i'd driven this road before dozens of times since i came back nothing had happened nothing would happen But still, my eyes flicked toward the woods. And there it was.
It was just a glimpse, a flash of red, deep in the trees, off to the right. I nearly drove off the road trying to convince myself I hadn't seen it. It was probably a piece of trash, a bit of cloth snagged on a branch. My imagination. I didn't stop. But as I rolled onto the bridge, I realized how much I was holding my breath. The car's headlights cut through the darkness.
The bridge itself was narrow. The guardrails rusted and brittle with age. Beyond them, the creek was a sliver of frozen blackness. I could feel it under me, waiting. Something moved. It was quick, barely there, just past the reach of the headlights. I slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop in the middle of the bridge. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
The headlights carved pale slashes into the trees on the other side of the bridge, their beams breaking against the trunks. Everything was still, too still. I leaned forward, squinting into the dark. My breaths fogged the windshield, and I wiped at it with my sleeve. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, maybe nothing, maybe something I didn't want to see. And then I saw him, the man.
He was standing just beyond the guardrail, barely twenty feet away. My headlights caught him full on, washing out his face until it looked like a blank mask. But I knew it was him. I knew it from the way he stood, still as a statue, shoulders slumped slightly forward like he was waiting for me to see him. And on his head, oh God, on his head was the same filthy Santa hat.
It was tilted to one side and the white trim was dark and wet with grime. His bare skin was a sickly gray, streaked with dirt that looked black in the light. His feet were bare, planted firmly in the snow. But he didn't move, didn't flinch. He just smiled.
the same smile as before like i was an old friend who'd just stumbled back into town i couldn't breathe i couldn't think i gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles burned my eyes darted to his right hand and there it was the machete Its blade hung low, almost brushing the snow. And then he waved, a slow, lazy wave like he was taunting me, like he'd been waiting for me all this time.
I slammed my foot on the gas, tires screaming as they fought for traction. The car shot forward and I didn't look back. I couldn't. My whole body was shaking, and I could barely keep the wheel steady as I tore up the hill. I didn't stop, not until I was miles away, the bridge a distant nightmare swallowed by darkness.
That night, I sat in my living room with every light in the house on, the front door locked and double-checked. My heart hadn't stopped racing. I couldn't get his face out of my head, that smile. I thought about what Emily had said all those years ago. He was already there. He was behind you. Had he been waiting for me tonight? All these years later, had he just known? I didn't sleep.
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