Just Creepy: Scary Stories
Best Scary Stories of March 2025 | SKINWALKER, Deep Woods, Camping, Forest, CRYPTID
Fri, 28 Mar 2025
These are the Best Scary Stories of March 2025 | SKINWALKER, Deep Woods, Camping, Forest, CRYPTIDLinktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepyStory Credits:►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/Music by:► 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 eerie stories are shared around the campfire?
That evening we all gathered around the campfire, passing around snacks and trading random jokes, when my friend settled in across from me. Normally, he was one of the livelier folks, always laughing, always ready with a comeback. But that night, his face looked drawn and he kept tapping his foot on the dirt like he was working up the nerve to say something.
I waited, because whatever had him on edge was no silly ghost story. He started by explaining a bit about his LDS mission.
how it covered a broad area including a reservation that he didn't visit often truth be told none of us were expecting more than a mild anecdote then he let slip that this reservation region had an eerie reputation among the locals we all went quiet even the ones who'd been whispering or fiddling with their phones Something about his tone felt heavier than any cheap campfire tale.
He cleared his throat and told us about a day he and his companion had to travel far out of their normal route. They met some new investigators who wanted to learn about the faith, and that part went smoothly. The real trouble started after, when they discovered they were nearly out of gas.
Nobody was around to help, so they sat there in a stretch of nothingness until someone finally came by with a spare can of fuel.
by the time they were on the road again the sky was dark and the roads were almost deserted he paused to stare into the flames recalling every detail it was late and his companion had fallen asleep in the passenger seat my friend had one goal get them both home as fast as possible He even admitted to pushing the speed limit.
He figured the biggest worry was wildlife or a stray deer darting across his path. But that changed fast. He said that while driving along these unfamiliar back roads, he kept spotting movement in the edges of the headlights. At first, he brushed it off, probably coyotes, maybe a raccoon. Then something shifted right next to his window, much closer than he expected.
he glanced down thinking he would see an animal scurrying by instead he slammed on the brakes practically launching his companion forward against the dashboard his companion jolted awake with a startled shout demanding an explanation All my friend could manage was, pray, right now. He wouldn't, or maybe couldn't say why just yet.
Instead, he forced the car forward again, driving the rest of the way in tight-lipped silence. His companion kept pestering him, but my friend stayed locked on the road, acting like if he spoke, something worse might happen. He made it back to their apartment complex with nerves in shreds. Once they were parked, his companion cornered him. That's when everything poured out.
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Chapter 2: What encounter happened on the dark back roads?
My companion and I exchanged worried looks when we realized how remote it was. But we had a job to do, so we piled in the car and took off. The woman sat in the back seat, chatting cheerily to pass the time, and I tried to focus on the conversation instead of staring into the woods. Even so, I caught shapes flitting between the trees in my peripheral vision.
at one point the woman fell silent she leaned forward touched my shoulder and told me to slow down her voice was hushed like she didn't want whatever was out there to hear confused i eased off the gas Then she pointed through the window, and I spotted something dark and human-shaped crouched between two thick tree trunks, watching us. Its limbs seemed elongated, or bent at awkward angles.
We pulled over, uncertain whether to drive away or see if someone needed help. The woman started whispering about local legends, stories of entities roaming these woods, blending between worlds. My companion looked at me, jaw-tight, clearly recalling the knocks from the other night. Before any of us could decide what to do, that shape melted back into the darkness.
The woman clutched the seat and said, "'Please, just go.' She sounded terrified, like she'd seen this before and knew it was dangerous." We dropped her off a little while later, and she thanked us but refused to elaborate further. When we got out to stretch our legs, I noticed fresh dirt smeared across the back door and trunk, shapes almost like handprints with fingers too long to be normal.
My mind raced back to the figures outside the trailer. Were they stalking us now? My final few nights in that region, I visited a family who insisted I stay over because of an incoming storm. Their house was a bit sturdier than the trailer, so I thought maybe I'd feel safer. My companion and I each took a spare cot in a small guest room.
The storm rolled in with gusty winds and flashes of lightning that gave me a headache every time they lit up the window. Close to midnight, a shrill whistle broke the quiet.
it started low and rose in pitch stopping abruptly only to start again a few seconds later like someone out there was calling out in a strange repeating pattern i sat up and my companion mumbled should we check that every instinct told me no but something about the whistle seemed urgent maybe someone was in trouble The two of us headed to the back door.
The moment I opened it, the whistling ceased. In that split second of silence, I heard movement near the half-broken fence. Bolts of lightning flared across the sky, revealing a silhouette crouched in the mud. It moved slowly along the fence line, then darted away when the next lightning strike came. My companion and I just stood there, too rattled to speak.
We hurried back inside, locked everything, and spent the rest of the storm listening for more whistles. None came. By daylight, we found the fence torn at one corner, wood splintered and claw marks raking across it like something had tried to climb over or tear it down. Our hosts were shaken, saying they'd never seen anything like that.
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Chapter 3: What terrifying events unfolded near the trailer?
A sense of relief settled over me, though I still caught myself scanning dark roads whenever I drove at night. Eventually, I shared the entire story around a campfire with some close friends. Telling it felt like a final exhale, like I was unloading a weight I'd carried far too long.
Whether those shapes were people, legends, or something unexplainable, I no longer felt haunted by the question of why they'd shown up, or what they wanted. My only hope was that, by speaking of it, I could warn others not to take the back road so lightly. If you ever find yourself out there under a waning moon, remember to stay alert.
Sometimes all it takes is faith, or sheer will, to keep going, and to remind whatever lurks in the darkness that you're no easy prey. I've heard this story from my roommate more times than I'd like to admit, but every time he shares it, my nerves go on high alert. It all started in a Phoenix suburb where he used to do his late night drives, usually around three or four in the morning.
He loves the silence of those roads, the kind of emptiness that feels strangely peaceful, at least it used to. The first encounter sounded almost too bizarre to be real. He was driving along a dimly lit street, empty fields stretching out on the left like a sea of dark silhouettes. Suddenly, a figure on all fours came bolting out of that field. It wasn't a coyote or a stray dog.
My roommate swears it had a simian shape, with long limbs that moved way too fast to be normal. Its entire body was this deep black. The kind that almost blends into the shadows. But its face. Stark white, like fresh snow. He said it had human features without any expression. The thing sprinted across the road, paused with abrupt precision, and twisted its head to stare straight at him.
And just like that, it disappeared into the darkness. He kept driving, not sure if his brain was playing tricks. But he kept replaying that horrifying image of the white mask-like face burned into his memory. A few weeks later he was on the same stretch of asphalt, this time with a friend in the passenger seat.
They were probably talking about random stuff to stay awake when they noticed something crouched in a tree up ahead. At first it looked like a lump or a bunch of leaves, until it moved. The second they got close, the figure clambered down the tree with inhuman speed. The friend started yelling, convinced they had just seen something completely unnatural.
It bounded across the road, spun around, and locked eyes on them again with that cold, white face. My roommate turned the car around in a frenzy, determined to find it or at least prove it was real. But the roads and fields were silent. No movement, no clue. The friend refused to drive back that way for weeks. That was supposed to be the end of it. Two freak encounters in the middle of nowhere.
But things only got worse. One night, my roommate was coming back from a late shift and decided to avoid that same road, going a longer route instead. Midway through, as he was passing by a fenced-off construction site, he spotted movement in his rearview mirror. Something was in the distance, bounding at an unnatural speed, half hunched over like it was ready to leap.
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Chapter 4: How does a local legend manifest in real life?
This was something we did every year, a time when relatives from Oklahoma, Texas, and Kansas all converged on my grandmother Tana's land for important traditions. Tana's property sprawled at the base of a forbidding mountain range that everyone treated with serious caution. People said those mountains could twist your mind if you ventured too far up without the right protections.
Anyway, Tana kept two small houses on her land. The old house was sealed tight, metal bars over windows that didn't open, steel doors, all to keep out the wandering animals or thieves who might prowl when nobody was around. The new house had the same bars, but you could swing the windows open, which was a luxury in the scorching heat.
My mother, Nita, and father, Atohi, set my two sisters, Ama and Winona, and me up in the old house, while my aunt Winona and uncle Sani took their kids, Hosa and Lona, to the new house. Another set of cousins, Chitto and Saya, were also around somewhere on the property, helping with daily tasks or helping Tana prepare for ceremonies. We were used to the darkness out there,
But every time we arrived, it still felt like entering another world. No street lights for miles, just inky blackness when the sun went down. The only real light might come from our truck's headlights, or maybe a small campfire if we were lucky. Without that, you couldn't see more than a few inches in front of your face. On this particular night, the air was muggy and still.
In the old house, the windows were shut tight, so we just tried to fall asleep in that stale heat. after a long day of chores and travelling we drifted off easily enough then in the middle of the night we were jolted awake by someone screaming it turned out to be hossa who was two years younger than me He was in the new house, and his voice tore through the silence like an alarm.
Groggy and annoyed, I scrambled to a window, only to see my father, normally calm and imposing, rush in and tell us kids to stay put. I remember crossing the dark room, stepping over scattered belongings as I hurried to the barred window. Outside, the moon gave off just enough glow to reveal silhouettes hurrying around with flashlights.
My Aunt Winona looked frantic, pointing toward the fence line while my Uncle Sonny and a few older cousins combed the property, scanning the ground for signs of an intruder. They seemed genuinely worried, which made my chest tighten. Why would they be so alarmed if this was just some bad dream?
The adults were up until daybreak, but eventually, my sisters and I crashed again, too exhausted to stay vigilant. When the sun rose, I cornered Hossa's older brother, Lona, to see what was going on. He said Hossa had dozed off near an open window in the new house. At some point, something brushed his face.
He woke to see an old, pale woman pressing her head between the bars, her long gray hair nearly touching his cheek. She was staring down at him, smiling. Hossa panicked and screamed his head off, sending everyone into a frenzy. I admit I was skeptical. "'Out there, your mind can play tricks on you in the pitch-black darkness.' But Lona insisted that Hossa was certain he'd seen a real person.
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Chapter 5: What happens during an unsettling hike in the woods?
she said some places have a hunger for fear and if you wander in unprepared you might find exactly what's been feeding on it we left the property a day earlier than planned none of us wanted to linger especially with the children so rattled in the adults tents all the time
On the drive back to the main road, hours of bumpy dirt paths before even seeing a single highway, I sat quietly, replaying everything in my head. It was more than just footprints and a glimpse of someone's face. It felt like the land itself was unsettled, like old energies from the mountains had slithered down to toy with us.
Years later, I asked my mother why everyone accepted Hosa's story so readily. She reminded me that these sightings weren't new. Some elders believed a spirit from the mountains took on that old woman's shape and ventured down to peer into windows or creep across fences, targeting families who let their guard down.
knowing we'd found footprints all around both houses made it impossible to dismiss it as a child's nightmare even now i don't love talking about it i don't go back to mexico often and when i do i stay in tana's old house with the windows sealed up
Relatives still speak of a pale figure who prowls around occasionally, especially during those large gatherings when people are too occupied to notice who or what might be sneaking around in the dark. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if there's something in the mountains, something that can wear a human face for a night, just to remind us it's still there.
The thought alone makes me reluctant to glance out a window after dark, as if I half expect to see that chilling smile right on the other side of the bars. I remember how the house felt too big that evening, despite how cramped it usually was. You'd think having two brothers around would make me feel safer, but it was just us against this uneasy vibe creeping into every corner.
Normally we'd all be at the dinner with the rest of the family, laughing, eating, and celebrating. Instead, we got stuck tending sheep, and the place felt hollow without our parents' voices echoing off those mudstone walls. It started with the dogs outside. They barked in this erratic way, like they couldn't decide if they were afraid or furious. My older brother said it was probably coyotes.
My younger brother half agreed, but I caught him staring at the door a bit too long, like he wasn't convinced either. Me, I acted like nothing was wrong, but I was lying to myself. After dinner, we tried to settle down for the night. The idea was to keep things normal. We checked the sheep through the window, found all of them in the pen, then bolted the door. But the dogs wouldn't let up.
They'd be quiet one second, then start yelping and growling like someone stepped into their territory. I remember pacing the length of the house, from the old wood stove to the window, while my brothers pretended to doze off. My younger brother teased, quit being so jumpy, but the flicker in his eyes told me he wasn't feeling calm either. Eventually, I guess I just forced myself to lie down.
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Chapter 6: What are the consequences of disturbing the unknown?
the creature suddenly stretched tall moving its arms and legs at angles that defied reason the sheep bawled in fear stumbling away i stood there hard in my throat as it looked directly at us my older brother grabbed a rock hurling it in desperation
the thing jerked aside and vanished in a blink slinking behind a ridge by the time we got closer it was long gone but it left behind two trembling sheep each bearing deep scratches like claws had raked them we rushed the wounded animals back home trying not to jostle them too much blood spotted the ground with each step i glanced over my shoulder convinced that figure might appear again
It felt like we were trespassing on territory we had no business being in, even though this land was ours. Back at the house, we patched the sheep as best as three kids could manage. The sun started dipping, painting the sky in gold and purple streaks. Normally sundown would be a relief after a day of work. Now it just felt like a countdown.
If we could encounter that thing in broad daylight, who knew what nightfall would bring? By the time darkness crept in, we had the windows blocked with old blankets and anything else we could find. The dogs finally ventured inside, trembling and refusing to leave our sides. My brothers and I huddled around a single lamp, the glow barely cutting through the room's corners.
We took turns checking outside, pressing our faces to the glass. every time we looked we braced ourselves for a glimpse of that pale face hours passed with no clear sign at some point the silence seemed heavier than anything else each of us was waiting for the next horror to show up trying to hold on to some slim hope our folks would return soon
I remember how the night air slipped through the cracks in the walls, carrying a chill that settled into my bones. I hated feeling helpless, but I also couldn't deny how real our situation was. After what we saw out in the corral, those footprints, the shredded fence, those scratches on the sheep, I had no illusions anymore.
Something was hunting around our place, prowling in the daylight and using the night as a cloak. And as we sat, lantern flickering, I began to sense we'd only glimpsed a fraction of what it was capable of. Night came again, and we felt the weight of it pressing down on the house like a heavy blanket.
earlier that afternoon my brothers and i had sworn we weren't stepping outside until our family got back none of us could shake the dread crawling inside our heads especially after seeing that thing slithering around the sheep in broad daylight
now the sun was gone and the shadows outside seemed alive we double-checked the locks on every door and window my older brother managed to find a couple of makeshift weapons an old crowbar a heavy iron rod and put them by the entrance None of us had any clue if they'd actually work against something so unnatural, but it was better than feeling totally helpless.
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Chapter 7: What do the signs and symbols in the forest mean?
the dogs finally found their voice and barked like mad adding to the chaos we cornered it but it moved with unnatural speed twisting away before we could fully box it in it leapt off the porch and streaked into the yard disappearing behind the truck
i could hear the crunch of gravel under its feet then nothing for a second i stood there in shock adrenaline buzzing in my veins then i heard my dad shout in the car now no one argued we scrambled off the porch cramming into the vehicles with barely a glance behind us the dogs jumped into the back still barking ferociously
My mom started the engine, tires kicking up dust as we tore down the dirt path. I leaned out the window for one last look, half expecting to see those red eyes peeking through the swirling dust, but all I caught was a flicker of movement near the edge of the property, a tall shape vanishing into darkness.
We didn't stop until we were miles away, huddled together in a relative's driveway under flickering porch lights. my mom called a local medicine man voice shaking as she recounted the story he arrived late that night performing ceremonies with pungent herbs and low somber chants he warned us that some things latch on to fear like a life-source and that going back could provoke it
The next morning, we drove home as a group, grown-ups, cousins, anyone who could help, just to grab our stuff in broad daylight. We didn't stay long. Even in the sun's harsh glare, the place felt charged, as though something waited just beyond view. Once we had the essentials, we left that house behind without looking back. My folks decided we couldn't live there anymore.
None of us fought that choice. It was like we'd survived a trial by fire, stumbling out with our lives and a memory guaranteed to haunt us forever. Even now, I can't stop replaying the moment when that door nearly gave way, or the flash of those red eyes in the headlights. We escaped, yeah, but it never felt like a triumph, more like a close call with something we were never meant to see.
We never returned. We still own the land, I guess, but as far as I know it stayed empty, left for the wind and whatever lurks there after dark. The van we were in had a rattly old frame that made everything feel tense whenever Mom took a sharp turn. I sat near the back, knees pressed against the worn leather seat, watching the moonlight flicker across the dashboard.
We'd been on the road for hours, weaving through the Navajo reservation on a highway that seemed to stretch forever. Hardly any cars passed us this late. Honestly, it felt like we were the only people around for miles. Mom was in one of her moods, quiet, eyes fixed on the deserted landscape rolling by.
The radio crackled, switching between static and faint country songs before she finally gave up and turned it off. Whenever we traveled at night like this, I'd usually bug her for a scary story. This time, I didn't even need to ask. She decided to share one of her favorites, the night my aunt and her friends encountered something out in the boondocks.
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Chapter 8: How do personal experiences shape beliefs about the supernatural?
I had a feeling she wanted me to soak in the uneasy calm before dropping the real horror.
the desert outside our windows had grown somehow darker the horizon no longer distinguishable from the sky a low hum vibrated through the van as we cruised along and it seemed to match the tension in the air she began again voice quiet so your aunt and her friends realized something was on top of the van thumping and scraping at first they thought maybe it was an animal so they locked all the doors and tried to keep still
According to Mom, fear set in so hard that nobody dared speak above a whisper. Then the worst part happened. The roof rattled like an angry force was stomping around, trying to get a reaction. Everyone froze, Mom continued, eyes fixed on the road. Your aunt was shaking, trying to force the key to turn in that old ignition.
but the engine kept coughing and dying like it had given up that's when they heard a scraping noise a nasty deliberate sound moving from the back of the roof toward the windshield hearing those words i found myself picturing it all too well a pitch-black night a battered van in the middle of nowhere and something alive on top strong enough to shake metal
Mom turned the steering wheel with a grip that suggested even she was unsettled by her own recollection. Your aunt claimed she'd never heard a noise like that. It was slow, drawing out each scratch as if to make sure they knew it was there. A hush crept over me while I imagined them pinned down, hearts pounding, uncertain whether to run or stay.
When Mom described what happened next, it triggered an instinct in me to duck and hide, even though we were just listening to a story. She said a hand, pale and twisted, reached over the front edge of the van, nails long enough to curl over the glass. Your aunt saw it come into view, little by little, until it finally scraped against the windshield.
In that moment, Mom added, your aunt thought it was all over. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then the hand vanished. Everyone thought, prayed, it was gone, but that was just wishful thinking. The figure jumped off the roof and appeared right outside the driver's side window. A spike of dread jolted through me. I tried to imagine how that must have looked.
A face inches away, separated only by a thin pane of glass. Mom described its silhouette, vaguely human but horribly off. staring with unsettling intensity. My aunt panicked, launching herself into the back seat, muttering every protective verse she knew, while the others cowered and locked arms. They huddled, listening for movement, not daring to peek, but nothing happened for a while.
No thumping, no scraping, no footsteps. Fear of the unknown was almost worse than the noise itself. After what felt like ages, my aunt inched back to the driver's seat, her breath coming in quick bursts. With trembling hands, she jammed the key into the ignition and gave it a desperate turn. This time, the engine roared to life. They sped forward, tires kicking up dirt and pebbles.
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