Just Creepy: Scary Stories
6 TRUE Deep Woods/Wilderness Horror Stories That Will Shock You!
Fri, 14 Mar 2025
These are 6 TRUE Deep Woods/Wilderness Horror Stories That Will Shock You!Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/Timestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:10:24 Story 200:22:50 Story 300:26:58 Story 400:37:36 Story 500:49:44 Story 6Business inquiries: ►[email protected]#scarystories #horrorstories💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What happened during the midnight hike in Provo Canyon?
A midnight hike up Provo Canyon. Part of me hesitated. I knew the canyon could be ominous after dark.
but i was riding a wave of adrenaline eager to see where this new connection might lead without a second thought i said yes pretending i was braver than i felt we left the comforting glow of street lights and drove deeper into the canyon with each passing mile the usual hum of nighttime activity vanished replaced by a quiet so dense it made me lean forward in my seat
i caught fleeting silhouettes of towering cliffs on either side of the road barely outlined by starshine mike kept tapping the steering wheel seemingly at ease but i caught him squinting at the unlit trailhead as we pulled over watching him reach for a flashlight gave me a small surge of reassurance even if i wasn't sure that little beam could do much out here
Once we stepped out, the cold air wrapped around me. I tugged my jacket tighter, silently second-guessing my decision. Mike took the lead on a narrow path that cut between shadowy rock faces. At first, the atmosphere felt almost romantic. The crunch of gravel under our feet. The faint rustle of leaves overhead. It felt like we had this entire slice of nature to ourselves.
But with each step, my awareness of how isolated we were grew. My breath started coming quicker, and I found myself checking the trail behind us now and then, half expecting something to emerge from the darkness. Mike still hadn't admitted he was nervous, but I noticed how he kept scanning the path ahead.
He'd mentioned he was familiar with the area, yet his pace slowed every few strides, like he was trying to decide if we should go on or turn back. I kept telling myself that nothing was actually wrong, that it was just nerves playing tricks on me. Still, I couldn't deny the strangeness in the air, the way every sound, from our footsteps to the slightest breeze, felt amplified.
Eventually we reached a stretch where overhanging branches blocked what little starlight we had. Mike flicked on the flashlight, and the beam wavered, casting frantic shapes across the ground. The path seemed narrower than ever, and I noticed that he gripped the light so tightly his knuckles turned white. We pressed on with careful steps.
I thought about suggesting we turn around, but I didn't want him to think I was a coward. Maybe he felt the same, because neither of us spoke. that's when mike halted i almost bumped into him he didn't move for a few seconds and a sliver of panic surged through me the flashlight beam grazed the dirt illuminating a lump in our path something that didn't fit the usual rocks and branches
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Chapter 2: What unsettling discovery was made on the trail?
my pulse throbbed mike shifted back not daring to nudge it again he raised the flashlight a little and the beam flickered over rough ground but i still couldn't make out what was lying there the quiet pressed in we locked eyes and i knew instantly that we both wanted to run neither of us asked questions we pivoted and retraced our steps with hurried intensity every bump of my shoe against the gravel felt thunderous
The flashlight swung back and forth, revealing just enough to guide us out, but I kept imagining silhouettes lurking beyond its edge. I didn't breathe easy until we reached the car. Even then, my hands shook so hard I had trouble fastening my seatbelt. We drove away in a tense silence, each too unsettled to speak.
The farther we got from the trailhead, the more my chest loosened, but a queasy sense of unfinished business clung to me. I tried to make a joke about how we'd picked a ridiculous way to spend a first date, but the words died on my lips. Mike forced a half smile, though his eyes stayed glued to the empty highway. In that moment, I told myself it was just a late night scare, some weird fluke.
We were both alive, unhurt. So what was there to worry about? But part of me couldn't ignore the electric sense that we'd dodged something dreadful, a brush with a threat that had no name yet. We never spoke about that shapeless lump on the trail, and deep down, I think we both knew we'd never forget it. For a while, we pretended nothing had happened on that trail.
Mike and I carried on with our lives, dating, moving in together, eventually tying the knot, and we never once brought up the memory of that strange night. It became an unspoken agreement. If we didn't talk about it... Maybe it would fade away. Every so often, though, I caught him glancing at me in the dark, like he was pondering the same questions I was too afraid to voice.
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Chapter 3: How did a true crime show connect to a past experience?
Did we really bump into something serious out there, or was it all in our heads? Years passed in relative peace. We settled into a small apartment, got steady jobs, even started hosting Saturday brunches for our friends. Life felt almost normal, until the evening we came across a television program about Ted Bundy. It wasn't the usual true crime special I might have tuned out.
Something about the interviewer's tone made me pause. I can't explain it, but I felt a chill as Mike and I looked at each other. he froze mid-bite of his dinner remote still in hand on screen bundy talked with a disturbing calm as though he was describing a casual outing then he was asked about the night he almost got caught in provo canyon my heart began to pound so violently
I thought it might drown out the sound from the TV. At first, I refused to believe it could be our story, but he described luring a girl there, disposing of her body, and hearing a pair of hikers heading up the trail. He mentioned that the man practically stepped on the victim, and for a moment, he thought he'd been found out.
But then, inexplicably, those two people just turned around and vanished into the darkness. I looked at Mike, waiting for him to say something, hoping he'd crack a joke or reassure me it was a coincidence. But he stared at the screen, jaw clenched, eyes wide as if he'd seen a ghost. In that silence, realization slammed into me.
I felt my pulse jump to my temples, and a wave of nausea washed over me. It couldn't be anyone else. We were the ones who stumbled into that nightmare. It had to be the same night, the same canyon, the same detail of stepping on something that didn't belong there. I don't remember how long we sat in that stunned fog before one of us reached over and muted the TV.
All I recall is the weight of what we'd learned pressing down on us like a crushing vice. Neither of us knew what to say. It was a minute, maybe two, but it felt like an hour. We just stared at each other, grappling with the nauseating certainty that we had been yards away, mere steps away, from one of the most vicious predators in modern history.
From that night on, our memory of the midnight hike changed forever. Up until then, we could treat it like an odd camping story gone wrong, something we'd overinflated in our imaginations. But with the truth out in the open, I started having these jolting flashbacks in the middle of the night. I'd dream I was back on that trail, surrounded by blackness, hearing phantom footsteps behind us.
In my nightmares, Mike and I turned around, and we weren't alone. I'd wake up gasping, unable to shake the possibility that Bundy had been mere inches behind a tree, watching us, maybe even considering how easily he could take us both. Mike became quieter in the weeks that followed. He stopped going to the climbing gym, lost interest in the adventure sports he used to love.
One day, he admitted he couldn't stand the sound of gravel anymore because it reminded him of our rush to the car that night. That confession actually made me feel less alone in my fear. I wasn't the only one consumed by it. We never reported anything to the police because by then it was long in the past. Bundy was already locked away, no longer a threat to anyone.
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Chapter 4: What was found on a solo hike in Yellowstone?
But that sense of helplessness stayed with us. We'd been so clueless, so close to tragedy, and it was pure luck that we stumbled out unscathed. There's a certain guilt that comes with surviving when someone else obviously didn't, and that guilt settled over us like a heavy shroud. Even now, if the topic of late-night hiking comes up at a get-together, Mike and I exchange knowing looks.
Our friends have no clue about the dark secret we share. Sometimes they'll ask if we want to go on a group camping trip, but we always find an excuse. They don't understand why we refuse, and I hope they never have to. These days, I don't think about it constantly, but every once in a while, something, like a news story or a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision, will jolt the memory back.
I'll be transported to that moment on the trail, the darkness pressing in, my stomach nodding in a sudden surge of alarm as my foot grazes something indescribable. And I'll recall the stark truth. In those moonless hours, a twisted mind lurked just out of sight, watching our every step. We left with our lives. Someone else never made it out.
We'll carry that knowledge with us, silently, for the rest of our days. I crawled out of my bunk at the ranger station hours before sunrise, feeling a flicker of anticipation in my chest. Early mornings in Yellowstone usually give me a calm kind of thrill, like the park is mine alone for just a little while. I did a quick gear check under the buzzing fluorescent light.
Water, snacks, my radio, a small first aid kit.
everything seemed in order a couple of colleagues were sipping coffee nearby but we just nodded at each other we all had our own plans for the day and i was already focused on getting out to the lamar valley the drive to the trailhead was quiet no tourists at that hour no long lines of cars just the open road and the promise of solitude when i finally parked and started walking the sun began its slow climb
painting the sky with gentle streaks of pink and gold. The air tasted fresh, and a few bison dotted the far edges of the valley. I remember thinking, this is what I love about this job. Everything felt peaceful in that moment. I covered the first few miles at an easy pace, scanning the horizon for wolves or elk. The grass was long, shifting in waves that made the landscape look almost alive.
normally i find that movement comforting but something nagged at the back of my mind a kind of tension i couldn't quite name the only sounds were my own footfalls and the soft rustle of wind no faint hum of other hikers no distant vehicles It felt like the valley and I were the only two things in existence. Around eleven miles from the nearest road, the trail opened up into a wide clearing.
That's where I saw it. At first, I assumed it was a large rock half buried in the dirt, but stepping closer revealed the unmistakable shape of a deer's head. A doe, to be exact. It lay right in the middle of the path, as if it had been placed with precise intention. My pulse thudded heavier in my ears as I moved in for a better look.
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Chapter 5: What eerie encounter occurred in the forest?
The air felt colder than it had an hour ago, even though the sun still glared overhead. Each step kicked up dust that settled on my boots, but I hardly noticed. My eyes were glued to the horizon, scanning for any sign of movement. It felt like something could be watching from behind the swaying grass. The path began to climb steadily, and I fought the temptation to pick up the pace.
It wasn't just the shock of what I'd found. It was the weight of all the unanswered questions crushing my nerves. The dull crackle of static on my radio finally began to morph into a faint buzz of chatter as I cleared the ridge. My heart gave a leap.
grateful for even a sliver of connection to the outside world i paused on a rocky outcrop steadying my breath and lifted the radio to my lips base this is ranger shelton i said my voice trembling more than i wanted come in the silence was agonizing punctuated by a hiss of static Then, a voice crackled through, low and cautious. Shelton, this is Bass. We read you. Everything okay out there?
I almost laughed at the question. I, uh, I need to report something. Unusual, I managed. My mouth felt dry, my tongue thick. How could I possibly describe what I saw? There's a deer head, a doe. It's been, cleanly severed. No blood, no tracks, no body. Eleven miles in. A heavy pause stretched over the connection. Say again? The voice asked, clearly uncertain.
I took a deep breath, doing my best to sound calm. A severed deer head, intact. It's right in the middle of the trail. There's no evidence of a predator. All right, the dispatcher finally replied. Copy that. We'll send someone to check it out. Stand by for further instructions. The click of the radio going silent rattled me more than I expected.
I'd hoped for an immediate explanation, some kind of logical solution. But nothing came. Instead, I had the echo of my own words in my head, sounding more absurd by the second.
i continued up the ridge the silence closing in again the bright sunlight felt at odds with the dark unease that clung to me and i realized i'd been walking with my shoulders hunched tight as if bracing for something behind me my mind wouldn't quit circling the same questions what could sever a head so neatly out here in the middle of nowhere who would go to such lengths just to leave it on a path and why a doe with no antlers or anything of worth to a poacher
By the time I reached my camp that evening, I could barely keep from pacing. In the soft glow of my flashlight, I scrolled through the photos I'd taken, zooming in on each bizarre detail. The eyes still looked alive. I found myself staring at the smooth cut, hoping to see some clue that might have escaped me out in the field. Every angle just drove home how unnatural it was.
My mind darted back to fireside rumors I'd heard from fellow rangers in the past. Stories of strange figures glimpsed at the edge of the woods. Unearthly sounds echoing through canyons at night. I'd always thought they were tall tales, something to spook new hires. But tonight, I found it harder to dismiss them. I called it an early night, but sleep refused to come.
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Chapter 6: What did the children discover in the overgrown forest?
i glanced toward the noise and noticed a tall figure stepping through the undergrowth at first i squinted thinking maybe it was my dad who was somewhere in the area but as my eyes adjusted to the dimness i realized it was towering broad-shouldered and moving with a casual ease most people don't have in rough terrain
It was hard to tell details, long arms, strange gait, but it never once dropped to all fours the way a bear might. It stayed on two legs, like a person who was perfectly comfortable walking upright through rugged country. My nerves were in overdrive. I remember calling out, Hello, because my brain insisted this could be a lost hiker.
The figure immediately hunched low, like it was trying to vanish behind a fallen log or thick brush. I called again, more uncertain this time, and it whipped its head around, locking eyes with me from a distance. In that moment, an awful realization crept over me. It was way too large and agile to be any normal person. The proportions were almost human.
but everything about its presence screamed that it wasn't my gut told me to run yet a part of me stayed rooted in place mesmerized by the way it seemed to blend into the shadows i took a hesitant step closer my mind screaming conflicting thoughts about whether to help or flee but the creature reacted first it launched into a sprint still upright unbelievably fast like it had practiced that motion a thousand times before
it darted away covering ground at a pace that made me feel absolutely helpless if it decided to turn on me the silence that followed was crushing no birds no squirrels not even the wind i realized that if that thing wanted me gone i wouldn't stand a chance I scrambled out of the hollow, constantly checking over my shoulder, heart pounding the entire time.
That experience stuck with me, but a second incident shook me again, this time closer to home. I was walking my dog at night in a nearby field. The air was still, and he was off sniffing at the grass. Out of nowhere, a roar ripped through the darkness, louder than anything I'd ever heard, like some nightmare mixture of a huge cat and a wild canine.
It vibrated in my chest, an unearthly sound that instantly changed everything around me. My dog, who's usually fearless, tucked his tail and ran back to our yard at top speed. He wouldn't come out of his doghouse for hours.
i'm not sure which rattled me more seeing that tall unnatural figure or hearing a roar that defied explanation both encounters left me feeling as if the boundaries i'd always set between the woods and civilization had been torn down even now whenever i wander outdoors on quiet evenings part of me braces for the unexpected i catch myself listening for any unnatural silence or scanning the treetops in case something's watching
It's not just fear, it's an awareness that there might be more out there than we care to believe. And once you've caught a glimpse, or heard the echo, you can't pretend otherwise. I remember the first day I stepped into that overgrown patch of forest, feeling like I'd discovered a secret no one else had ever noticed.
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