These are 6 True ScaryWilderness Horror StoriesLinktree:https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStoryCredits:►Sent in tohttps://www.justcreepy.net/Timestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:13:29 Story 200:21:18 Story 300:30:03 Story 400:39:54 Story 500:50:03 Story 6Musicby:► Myuu's channelhttp://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Musichttp://bit.ly/2f9WQpeBusiness inquiries: ►[email protected]#scarystories #horrorstories💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What happens in the basement at three in the morning?
I can't remember the exact time, but it had to be close to three in the morning when I decided I'd had enough of that basement. The place belonged to one of my cousin's friends, someone I barely knew, and the concrete walls, low ceiling, and flickering overhead lights were starting to mess with my head.
A few of us were sprawled out on mismatched chairs, half asleep, while others just mumbled about random stuff.
we'd killed a six-pack hours ago then dipped into some cheap drinks and i was definitely feeling it the music had died down to an irritating static like buzz and nobody seemed to be in any state to keep a conversation going i'd been in that haze where you're too tired to be drunk yet too tipsy to act normal My eyelids felt like they had weights attached.
So, I stood up, nearly tripping over someone's backpack, and announced to nobody in particular that I was heading home. You sure? My cousin mumbled from the couch, barely lifting his head. It's freezing. I shrugged. I just need fresh air, I said. And to be honest, it felt like something was telling me not to stay there a second longer.
The house wasn't even that far from my cousin's place, maybe a 15-minute walk on a clear day. I figured, well, it's practically day with the moon reflecting off all that snow. As soon as I hauled myself up the basement steps and stepped outside, the wind slapped me so hard that I was instantly more awake. The yard stretched out under a bluish glow, the snow seeming to swallow every sound.
No cars, no people. Just silent white emptiness. It was one of those nights where you couldn't tell if it was really late or super early. I pulled my coat tighter and glanced around. The other houses in the neighborhood were dark. Their windows shuttered like they'd been deserted for the winter. It seemed like I was the only person alive. Usually that kind of solitude doesn't bother me.
There's a certain calm to being by yourself in the cold. But something about that night felt off, as if the world was waiting for something to happen.
i started trudging through the snow aiming for the small patch of woods at the edge of the property my boots made these loud crunching sounds that seemed to echo even though i was still feeling the alcohol my senses were on high alert each snow-laden branch each flicker of moonlight seemed sharper than usual I tried to laugh off my uneasiness.
"'Dude,' I muttered under my breath, "'you're literally freaking yourself out.' But the quiet out there had a presence of its own, like it was pressing in on me. After a couple of minutes, I reached the tree line. Lean, bare trunks stood like dark silhouettes all around. There wasn't much undergrowth, just drifts of snow piled against roots and stumps."
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Chapter 2: What eerie feeling does solitude evoke in the wilderness?
i shifted my bag on my shoulder dug my hands deeper into my coat pockets and stepped out of the tree line into the yard of white each footstep broke the surface of the snow and made a soft crunch that somehow echoed the kind of sound you can't hide even if you tried i couldn't help thinking that if anyone was lurking around they'd have no problem zeroing in on me
As I made my way across that field, the wind shifted, whistling across the open space. Little gusts of snow blew sideways, nipping at my face. I quickened my steps, determined to reach my cousin's home sooner than later. I wanted to believe I was overreacting, that it was just the booze, the darkness, and the rural quiet messing with my head.
Yet something at the back of my mind kept bugging me, like a little alarm that refused to shut off. I tried focusing on how great it would be once I got inside. Maybe I'd make some hot chocolate, wrap myself in a blanket, and watch dumb videos until I passed out.
almost there just a few more yards and i'd be in sight of the back porch but as i drew closer to the far edge of that field my pulse picked up for reasons i couldn't explain that sense of being utterly alone yet not alone at all washed over me again like the night itself was watching i told myself not to look back at the woods not to imagine silhouettes standing there just keep moving keep breathing keep going
Little did I know this was only the start of a far more disturbing walk than I'd ever signed up for. I'd made it maybe halfway across that moonlit field, when something at my left caught my attention, way off at about my ten o'clock. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light, or my buzz playing tricks on me, but there was definitely a figure out there.
My body jerked to a stop, like I'd stumbled into an invisible wall. Whoever it was had paused too, almost mirroring my reaction. The distance between us was probably 70, maybe 80 yards, yet I could tell they were tall and dressed in dark clothing, and something about the shape of their face, no, not their face, more like the lack of one, made me realize they had a ski mask on.
My brain tried to rationalize it. Some random night hiker? A farmhand checking on livestock at this ungodly hour? Except there were no farms this close, and nobody I knew would be wandering around a field alone at three in the morning with their face fully covered. My heart thrummed hard enough to make me feel lightheaded. I let out this awkward laugh that came from sheer nerves.
I gave a small wave, almost like I was saying, oh, hey, sorry to scare you, but it was a dumb reflex. The stranger didn't move, not even a nod. He just stood there, staring right at me, or at least that's what it looked like. With the mask, I had no way of knowing for sure, couldn't see any hint of an expression. The utter lack of response locked me in a weird state of disbelief.
Was he about to say something? Was he sizing me up? The wind stirred another gust of snow between us, momentarily obscuring his figure. My stomach lurched in panic. When the flurry cleared, I could still see him, exactly where he'd been, like a statue. I started to realize in a very real sense, I might be in trouble. Every instinct was screaming that something was terribly off.
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Chapter 3: What does the masked figure signify during the night walk?
Every mile felt like it was pulling us further from anything resembling civilization. Eventually, we found the battered wooden sign marking the logging road. Grass and weeds choked the entrance, and our tires crunched over rocks as we turned in.
I tried to crack a joke about horror movies starting exactly this way, two guys heading into the wilderness without telling many people where they were going. My friend forced a laugh, but I could hear the edge in his voice. The road was rough, bouncing us around in our seats. It wound through towering trees that shut out most of the sunlight.
The place felt like it was swallowing us whole, and I couldn't decide if I loved it or hated it. We parked at a clearing when the path got too narrow to continue. Then we lugged our gear on foot for another couple of miles. Every step got quieter as the underbrush absorbed the sound of our boots.
After what felt like forever, the cabin came into view, small and worn but somehow comforting in its own ragged way. I remember standing there, taking in the moss-covered roof and the peeling paint on the door. My friend glanced around like he was waiting for someone or something to jump out, but nothing stirred except a breeze that rattled the branches overhead. Inside, the air was still.
I flicked on my flashlight, revealing a space that was more or less just four walls. two rickety bunks, and a little fireplace in the corner. The kitchen counter held a couple of dusty mugs, remnants of past trips. I told myself it was good to be back. We unrolled our sleeping bags on the bunks, trying to make ourselves comfortable.
that silent hush clung to everything and even our low conversation felt too loud we stacked our supplies in a corner canned food water jugs a single lantern for nighttime use as dusk settled the woods outside turned darker than i'd ever seen them We cooked dinner over a tiny camping stove, talking about old memories to keep our nerves in check.
I kept glancing at the window, half expecting to see a face peering back. My friend teased me for being jumpy, but his eyes darted around too. The truth was, we both knew we were out there on our own. No help for miles, no cell service. Just us and the unending forest. When we finally decided to call it a night, I shut off the lantern and the cabin slipped into an inky darkness.
I lay on my bunk, ears attuned to every sound outside. The wind brushed against the cabin walls, making them groan like they might collapse. A couple of times I heard faint cracks in the distance. Could have been branches falling. Could have been wildlife.
my mind kept conjuring images of figures lurking among the trees the kind of thoughts you don't want but can't stop i tried shutting my eyes but rest stayed out of reach my friends seemed restless too tossing and turning we both tried to pretend we were fine but an uneasy tension hung in the stale air
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Chapter 4: How does the narrator respond to the unsettling knocks at the cabin?
My friend aimed the phone's beam at the tree line, swearing they saw a faint path, but when we shuffled over, all we found were dense bushes that'd take a machete to get through. Disappointment hit hard. We'd driven all this way, and we were nowhere closer to an actual trail. My friend mumbled something about feeling watched, but tried to laugh it off.
neither of us stuck around long enough to confirm that suspicion heading back felt like the only sane decision at that point i spun the car around being extra careful not to slide into a ditch and started retracing our route oddly enough the path felt different like it had stretched somehow
every branch overhead seemed gnarled and the more i stared the more they resembled claws instead of ordinary limbs my friend said nothing and i was too on edge to make conversation so we just listened to the tires crunching on gravel and the low rumble of the heater As we eased forward, I caught myself glancing in the rearview mirror, half expecting something to appear behind us.
The tension was suffocating. My pulse thudded in my ears, and I found myself gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual. I silently promised that if we made it back to the main road, we'd stick to daylight hikes for the foreseeable future. We still had no idea what was waiting further down that dark lane. We only knew we needed to get out, and the sooner the better.
My friend was hunched in the seat, eyes scanning the blackness just beyond our limited headlight range. there was a mutual understanding that we wouldn't truly relax until we were off that cursed road. And so we pressed onward, hoping we weren't about to discover exactly why every rational person stayed away from this part of the woods after sundown.
If there was a prize at the end of that trail, we sure didn't find it.
all we found was a growing sense that we'd missed a warning sign somewhere along the way a sign telling us to turn back before nightfall sealed us in the headlights were our only comfort as we headed back along that gravel path they cast a narrow beam of light on the brush lining each side and the shadows seemed to twist in ways my imagination refused to leave alone
My friend was silent in the passenger seat, staring out the window. We both expected nothing but more dark, empty road ahead. Instead, something blocked our view up ahead, a shape standing near the tree line, too still for just another crooked branch. My first response was to ease off the gas, uncertain if I should pull over or go around. That's when our low beams revealed a man.
He was dressed in torn, filthy clothes, gripping a dirt cake shovel like it was the most normal thing in the world. He glared right at us as our car crawled to a stop. There was no waving for help or shouting, just that icy look that made me forget all the sensible rules about offering assistance. The tension in the car was suffocating. I felt like we had slammed into an invisible barrier.
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Chapter 5: What events transpire after the gunshot is heard?
I'd see dusty furniture, a table with old newspapers, maybe a pair of boots in the corner. Nothing ever stirred inside. One afternoon, I was by myself and decided to tackle my favorite route. After hours on my feet, I rounded a bend and noticed smoke curling above the treetops. My initial thought was that somebody might be doing some controlled burn or cooking s'mores with friends.
But as I crept closer, I spotted that rickety cabin and a figure standing out front. Not exactly the neighborly camper I'd pictured. This guy was tall, wide-shouldered, wearing a grimy shirt with stains down the front. A handful of beer cans littered the ground around his grill, and there was a haze of smoke mixing with the evening air.
He glanced up and I sort of froze in place, not sure what to say or do. I mean, you don't expect to see many folks way out here, let alone someone hosting their own backyard barbecue. He raised an eyebrow and grunted something like, "'No food here, buddy,' as if I'd come begging for scraps. The whole thing felt awkward, but I gave a quick nod and hurried on.
I caught him still watching me from the corner of his eye, like he was sizing me up. That night, back in my tent, my thoughts wandered to that porch scene. His attitude was weird, not exactly menacing, but definitely off-putting." When I continued my trip, I tried to chalk it up to a random encounter with a guy who wanted some seclusion.
Still, I remember feeling restless, my ears on alert for the crunch of footsteps that never came. Time passed and I more or less forgot about him. Then the next summer rolled around and I decided to bring my sister, my wife, and her best friend on a camping excursion.
i wanted to show them the best spots in that region lush overlooks hidden streams the works our plan was to take a multi-day loop that just so happened to pass by that same erie cabin i figured the probability of seeing that dude again was slim especially since I'd only seen him once in all my years on the trail. We spent two days trekking, enjoying the scenery and each other's company.
Laughter and chatter filled the air as we navigated switchbacks and muddy slopes. Then we reached that familiar stretch, and sure enough, I caught the faint smell of smoke in the breeze. A knot tightened in my gut.
approaching carefully i realized it was him again he hadn't changed much still huge still wearing clothes that had seen better days still surrounded by an army of empty beer cans he flipped something on the grill with an intensity that made me uneasy
initially he shot us a dismissive wave like he was about to say his usual move along but his expression shifted when he took in the sight of my companions his demeanor turned friendly too friendly he invited us over said he had plenty of burgers and hot dogs The way he insisted was unsettling, like he wouldn't take no for an answer.
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Chapter 6: How does the group react to their eerie encounter in the woods?
stakes got lost in the rush zippers stuck sleeping bags were shoved haphazardly into packs it was a frenzy to get everything together while keeping one eye on the darkness beyond our headlamp beams finally we took off down the trail clinging to each other's glowsticks and flashlights our nerves on edge Roots and rocks seemed to lunge at our feet in the dim light, but we pressed forward anyway.
Nobody said much. We just wanted to put as many miles as possible between us and that creepy encounter. As we hiked under the moon, I couldn't help looking over my shoulder. Every snapping twig, every rustle of leaves set me on high alert. The idea of him following us never left my mind. How long had he been watching before he stumbled in?
Had he planned on doing something worse if I hadn't blasted that horn? My thoughts spun in a loop of fear and anger. Eventually we reached a broader section of the trail, one that felt slightly more familiar and a little less menacing. The horizon showed hints of dawn, and with it, a wave of relief, though it was stained with lingering dread.
Our plan was to hike until we found a safer place to rest, or maybe a ranger station where we could get help. The girls were exhausted and so was I, but none of us felt safe stopping. Looking back on that night, a cold understanding settled in. Out here, miles from civilization, one person's twisted behavior can turn a simple camping trip into a terrifying ordeal.
The wilderness used to feel like freedom, but now it felt like a place where anything could happen and no one would know until it was too late. Even though we'd escaped, the memory of his raspy voice and the sight of him rifling through our gear clung to me.
That night changed the way I look at every backpacking trip since, reminding me that human threats can be far more unpredictable than any bear or mountain lion ever could be.
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