Just Creepy: Scary Stories
7 TRUE Wilderness HORROR Stories | Skinwalker, Deep Woods, Cryptid
Wed, 05 Mar 2025
These are 7 TRUE Wilderness HORROR Stories | Skinwalker, Deep Woods, CryptidLinktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStoryCredits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/►Mike99Timestamps:00:00 Intro00:00:18 Story 100:09:25 Story 200:18:57 Story 300:26:50 Story 400:37:42 Story 500:44:09 Story 600:52:49 Story 7Musicby:► Myuu's channelhttp://bit.ly/1k1g4ey ►CO.AG Musichttp://bit.ly/2f9WQpeBusinessinquiries: ►[email protected]#scarystories #horrorstories #skinwalker 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What is the setting of the first wilderness story?
At sunrise, you can feel like you're the only person left on Earth in a strangely comforting way. But once you realize how alone you truly are, that comfort can twist into something else entirely. My siblings and I kept ourselves entertained by exploring these massive gravel pits on the outskirts of our property. We called it our secret base, though there was nothing secret about it.
It was just a big dusty area filled with holes, a few rocks, and a rusted out sign or two warning people to keep out. Naturally, that made it even more exciting for us. We'd play survival games, pretend we were lost in some epic wilderness. It was the kind of place that felt exhilarating in broad daylight. Yet at the same time, it was always unnervingly quiet back there.
One afternoon, all three of us decided to see how far we could go into the pit before freaking ourselves out. We trudged deeper than usual, ignoring the nagging sense that we were treading on ground nobody else bothered with.
the silence grew more intense like the surrounding desert wanted us to know it was paying attention then we saw it-a tepee someone had taken thick logs freshly cut judging by the pale wood and arranged them into a surprisingly well-built structure but there are no real trees to speak of in that area just dusty shrubs in the occasional scrawny bush
Chapter 2: What creepy discovery did the siblings make in the gravel pit?
The three of us stood there, gaping at this weird teepee that had no business existing out in the gravel pits. For a second, I toyed with the idea of going closer, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I saw that same hesitation in my siblings' eyes. So we backed away, acting tough and casual on the outside, but feeling pretty rattled under the surface.
A few days later, curiosity got the better of us, so we returned. We inched around a bend in the pit, and that's when we noticed a dark shape spread out on the ground in front of the teepee's entrance. It turned out to be a crow, or a raven, split straight down the middle. The wings had been stretched out, and there was zero blood anywhere.
It was as if someone had dissected the creature in the cleanest, most precise way possible. one of my siblings let out a muffled gasp and i remember wanting to say something comforting but my throat refused to cooperate without another word we scurried home each of us pretending we weren't absolutely disturbed by what we'd seen we tried to show our mom a little while later
some part of me hoping we'd simply overreacted but the teepee was gone not a single branch remained as if it had never been there my mom shot us a skeptical look which just made it all more unsettling we were left with the memory of that crow and the eerie feeling that whoever built the teepee didn't want us bringing any outsiders around after that i started noticing oddities wherever i went a patch of footprints leading nowhere a hush falling over the yard at twilight
or the way the desert seemed to stare back whenever i glanced at the horizon i liked to act like it was no big deal but deep down part of me dreaded that i'd stumble onto another scene like the one at the gravel pit and next time there might not be an exit route so conveniently open I've always loved the night sky out here.
It's colossal and clear, like a dome of scattered diamonds, and if I'm not too distracted by everything that comes with living in the middle of nowhere, I might even find it peaceful. Sometimes, I'd hop into the bed of our pickup, lie back with a jacket tucked under my head, and watch shooting stars streak overhead.
the distant mooing of cattle and shouts of farm hands became a nightly sound-track until one night something changed that evening the cows started getting rowdy at the usual hour but over the course of a few minutes there was a shift in tone one particular cow began making sounds that were too human
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Chapter 3: What strange noises disrupted the narrator's stargazing?
The noise droned on, filling the darkness in a way that felt close, even though the feedlot is a decent stretch away. The cries grew louder, or at least more focused, until they were impossible to block out. My brain kept insisting there had to be a logical explanation, a herd animal, or a weird echo, but my instincts refused to settle down.
I abandoned my stargazing and darted into the house, my mind swirling with thoughts I could barely process. Weeks later, I joined my family on our annual summer camping trip up in the mountains. We found an area surrounded by rugged trails and dense woods, a perfect place to turn off the rest of the world. Toad, my loyal dog, came along for the ride.
After we'd finished setting up tents and everyone had started gathering brush for a campfire, I decided to scout ahead for bigger logs. Toad trotted at my side, sniffing the ground. I wandered around a bend, and soon I couldn't hear my family's chatter. The noise from our campsite vanished behind me, and that's when a strange tugging sensation drew my attention deeper into the forest.
It wasn't a physical force, but it was persuasive, like a whisper in my ear encouraging me to step off the trail. The notion felt ridiculous, yet it was nearly overwhelming. If Toad hadn't pulled back on his leash right then, I might have followed that urge blindly.
with one sharp yank toad snapped me back to awareness i spun around and hurried back to my parents and siblings acting like i'd just been off daydreaming no way was i about to tell them what nearly happened the same tension clung to me for the rest of the trip I tried to sleep in the tent, but each time branches cracked or the wind rustled overhead, my attention shot to Toad.
He'd be bristling, ears perked, like he expected something to burst out from behind the nearest tree. Neither of us found much rest that week. Things escalated further one winter night when our husky decided to sprint off into the darkness. It was bitterly cold, and the fog rolled in so thick you couldn't see more than a few feet in front of you.
My mom, my sister and I trudged through drifts, following the husky's tracks and calling his name. Eventually we realized we'd need the truck to keep searching, so I volunteered to head back with Toad while they continued on foot. The walk home felt endless. Clumps of snow muffled my steps, and the swirling mist made me lose track of the road.
That's when a voice rose from somewhere in the fields, soft at first.
but carrying an odd droning quality that locked onto my attention it wasn't english didn't sound like spanish or any language i recognized either it reminded me of a chant yet no ceremony or prayer i've ever heard normally anyone out there would need to yell to be heard from such a distance but this murmur came through crisp and clear
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Chapter 4: What unsettling experience occurred during the camping trip?
My pulse hammered as I realized it wasn't just noise, it was beckoning. I stood there, Toad at my side, trying to decide what to do. Despite the biting cold, part of me felt compelled to approach, like the sound had a hook in my gut. Toad saved me again, tugging me forward with a determined yank. I stumbled after him, letting him guide me until the dim shape of our house came into view.
After I climbed into the truck and locked the doors, I just sat there, staring at the whitened windows, unsure if I was trembling from the chill or something else. Eventually, I remembered Mom and my sister were still out there, so I forced myself to drive in the Husky's likely direction. We never did manage to catch him that night. He was back by morning,
wagging his tail like he'd just gone on a grand adventure meanwhile i was left wondering who or what had been trying to coax me out into the fields maybe i was overthinking it but i couldn't scrub that chanting from my head it rattled around in my thoughts especially late at night when the wind would pick up and the desert seemed to draw a little closer to our doorstep
Now, whenever I stare out the windows at night, I take note of whether the usual farm sounds are present. Because the moment that quiet sets in, heavy and complete, I know something might be watching, waiting for a chance to make itself known again. And the worst part is, I'm almost certain it won't stop.
Toad seems convinced of that too, and that's enough for me to keep every door locked and every light on when the sun goes down. I went to sleep way later than I'd planned, close to midnight, and all I wanted was a few hours of decent rest. The place I call home isn't what you'd call welcoming after dark.
It's perched on a rugged incline, surrounded by these looming trees that block out most light once the sun goes down. Usually I find it peaceful, but that night something felt off. Around three in the morning, my eyes flew open. At first I couldn't pin down what had jolted me awake. No loud crash, no rattling window, just this sense that I wasn't alone.
My throat felt dry, so I slipped out of bed, trying not to make a sound. The hallway was almost pitch black except for a thin shaft of moonlight slicing across the floor. I could have sworn the whole house was holding secrets I didn't want to uncover. By the time I made it to the kitchen, my nerves were jangling.
The faucet squeaked, and the water I gulped down tasted stale, like it had been sitting in the pipes too long. Normally, I'd check my phone or listen to some late-night show to calm down, but something told me to stay quiet and keep my senses sharp. When I got back to my room, I eased myself onto the edge of the bed and happened to glance out the window.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust, but the moon was bright enough to show the outlines of branches stretching at my level, like a haunted walkway suspended in mid-air. At first the trees looked empty, just swaying leaves and twisting shapes, but there was a darker form out there that I couldn't explain. It was perched on a thick branch, kind of hunched, yet still taking up a lot of space.
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Chapter 5: What terrifying encounter happened after a night of hunting?
I squeezed the trigger, heard the crack, and watched the deer drop. There was this immediate rush, a split-second jolt of relief, because I'd been waiting all day for that moment.
once i climbed down though the reality started gnawing at me it was dusk and i had a hefty five-pointer on my hands five miles back to the truck felt a lot farther in the creeping dark than it had in the early morning light i'd left my gear cart about two miles away from the actual shot site So hauling the deer that short distance initially didn't faze me.
My breath came out in visible puffs, and the woods seemed quieter than usual. Too quiet, like something was off-balance. But I chalked it up to the usual post-harvest hush. Animals sense commotion and scatter, right? When I reached the cart, everything switched from mildly inconvenient to downright horrible in an instant.
I tried strapping the deer in, but the second I started wheeling forward, the cart jolted and leaned. The left wheel cracked so sharply it sounded like a gunshot echoing in the trees. Next thing I knew, the wheel hung by a sliver of metal before snapping completely free. I stared at that busted wheel, half laughing at my own stupidity for not checking the cart beforehand.
That tiny laugh died quick when it sank in that I had no backup plan. No partner. No phone signal. Just me and a deer that wasn't about to walk out on its own. My only real option? Sling the carcass over my shoulders and start moving. I hadn't gone more than a few hundred yards when I heard them. Coyotes howling in the distance. It was faint at first.
I tried to tell myself they'd stay near the gut pile I'd left behind. Maybe that was enough to keep them occupied. But every time I stopped to catch my breath, it sounded like more joined in. The noise echoed in the hollow spaces between the trees, getting louder, and suddenly I was worried I'd become a midnight snack if I didn't keep moving.
You'd think I'd have nerves of steel after all the seasons I've spent out here, but something about that chorus of cries set my teeth on edge. I shoved my feet forward, ignoring the burn in my thighs and the ache in my shoulders from the deer's weight. My only goal was to push past the dry, semi-open area and get to higher ground.
I knew a swamp waited ahead, an absolute nightmare in daylight, let alone in near dark. The tracks of mud and moss underfoot made each step a gamble. More than once, I slipped on the slick earth, imagining rows of yellow eyes behind every crooked tree trunk. The howls were growing bolder, and the sense of being surrounded started gnawing at me.
When I finally paused to adjust my grip, the deer threatened to slide off my shoulders. My breath was ragged, and I could feel the hush of the forest pressing down. I tried listening for the coyotes, but the silence made it worse, like they were toying with me, waiting, getting closer.
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Chapter 6: What connection did the narrator make between the ferret and the deer?
Somehow, that seemed like a day far enough away for me to prepare, but soon enough that I wouldn't lose my nerve. I had no idea if I'd be facing one creature or many, but I knew I had to try. The open-air hallway outside felt weighed down by something. Even in broad daylight, it looked darker than the rest of the property, like a perpetual twilight had settled in.
Shoving my things into my bag, I took a last glance down that corridor. A breeze drifted through, carrying a hint of decay, like a faint, rotting smell that made my skin crawl. I'm still not sure if I imagined it, or if it was real. Either way, I hustled out of there, determined to gear up for whatever comes next.
Because I've learned the worst part of this entire ordeal isn't the terror, it's the not knowing when it'll strike again. And I've had my fill of that. Thank you. I was alone at home that day, slouched on my worn couch, flipping through channels I didn't care about. The sky outside was grey, heavy with the threat of rain, so I figured the day would be as uneventful as it gets.
But at some point, I noticed a few deer drifting into the yard. That sight usually brought a calm vibe, something I'd admire for a moment before going back to whatever I was doing. This time though, something about them felt off.
the air outside felt strangely still like every sound had been sucked away the deer seemed normal at first but i kept my eyes on them a little longer than usual and that's when i realized one of their back legs was wrong Every time it stepped, that leg bent in a direction I can't even begin to explain. I leaned closer to the window, my mind fighting to make sense of what I was seeing.
The more I watched, the more I realized it wasn't just the one leg. Several of the deer, three, maybe four, had some unnatural curve to their joints. I tried telling myself it had to be a trick of the light, a weird angle, anything that would explain it. But the way their limbs moved just wasn't natural.
It felt like they were almost learning how to walk for the first time, except they were doing it wrong. they kept standing there nibbling at the grass occasionally glancing in my direction as though they sensed me watching from behind the glass i didn't want to move worried i'd scare them off or worse attract their full attention
My breath caught in my throat every time one of them jerked its head up, ears twitching. The yard was silent, no chirping birds or rustling leaves, and that silence made each awkward step echo in my mind. My pulse hammered in my ears with every movement they made. Eventually, one of the deer started to stroll toward the tree line at the edge of the yard. The others followed.
That was when I noticed something even more unsettling. As they walked away, their bodies looked like they were… growing. At first I was sure I was imagining it, but I couldn't ignore how their torsos seemed to stretch, how their necks elongated to proportions that weren't possible. I found myself frozen in place, trying to piece together a scene that shouldn't exist.
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