Just Creepy: Scary Stories
Scary DEEP WOODS Horror Stories That Will Give You Chills On A Cold Winter Night
Wed, 18 Dec 2024
These are 4 Scary DEEP WOODS Horror Stories That Will Give You Chills Linktree: https://linktr.ee/its_just_creepy Story Credits: ►Sent in to https://www.justcreepy.net/ Timestamps: 00:00 Intro 00:00:18 Story 1 00:10:35 Story 2 00:28:59 Story 3 00:45:30 Story 4 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 #compilation #parkrangerstories #deepwoods #nationalpark 💀As always, thanks for watching! 💀
Chapter 1: What makes camping in the deep woods unsettling?
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 strange sounds were heard at night?
Whatever was out there, it was waiting, watching, and we still had one more night. The sun set below the trees too quickly, and the forest swallowed the light in one long gulp. The fire crackled weakly at the center of the clearing, but it wasn't enough to push back the creeping darkness. Boone and Juno were restless, pacing the perimeter, their growls low and constant.
Claire sat with Tyler pressed against her, her eyes darting to every sound. I stayed on my feet, gripping the shotgun, scanning the shadows for movement. I don't think it's safe to stay another night, Claire whispered. Her voice trembled, and I couldn't argue. The unease from earlier had grown into a suffocating weight pressing down on all of us. Something was out there. Something was watching.
The first sound came just as I moved to douse the fire, a branch snapping, loud and deliberate. Then another, closer. Boone barked sharply, the fur along his spine bristling. Juno whimpered, circling back toward Tyler. Inside the tent, I ordered, my voice sharp. Now! Claire grabbed Tyler and pulled him toward the tent. But before they could reach it, the rope alarm rattled violently.
The sound of metal cans jingling was like a gunshot in the stillness. Then came the growl. Low, guttural, and impossibly deep. It vibrated through the ground, freezing us all in place. Boone lunged forward, barking furiously, but he stopped short of the tree line, teeth bared. My flashlight caught the edge of something, a shadow that moved too fast and too low to be human.
Get to the car, I barked, backing toward Claire and Tyler. My heart was hammering against my ribs, the shotgun trembling in my hands. We'll never make it, Claire hissed, but we had no choice. Another growl echoed from the opposite side of the clearing. There was more than one. I fired a shot into the trees, the blast deafening in the quiet.
Something screamed, a sound so unnatural and high-pitched it made my blood run cold. Boone and Juno snarled, barking at the shadows that seemed to close in on all sides. "'Run!' I shouted, grabbing Claire's arm and shoving her toward the car. Tyler clung to her, tears streaming down his face as we sprinted for the truck parked at the edge of the clearing.
Boone and Juno flanked us, barking madly, their eyes locked on the shadows darting between the trees. as we reached the truck i threw open the doors get in i yelled shoving claire and tyler inside boone jumped in next but juno hesitated her gaze locked on the darkness behind us juno come i screamed but she let out a savage growl before leaping into the truck
i slammed the door shut and fumbled with the keys my hands shaking uncontrollably the growls grew louder closer circling the truck the flashlight beam caught a glimpse of something massive its eyes glowing white-hot like embers I turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life just as a shadow slammed against the side of the truck with a force that made it rock. Go, go, go, Claire screamed.
I floored the gas pedal, the tires kicking up dirt as we sped down the trail. Something chased us, its footsteps pounding behind us, too fast and too heavy to be human. I didn't dare look in the rearview mirror. Only when we hit the main road did the pounding stop. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel, my breath coming in gasps.
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Chapter 3: What did the family discover at the abandoned campsite?
her clothes hung loosely mismatched and wrinkled like she'd thrown them on without looking her dark hair clung to her face in oily strands and her eyes god her eyes they didn't focus on me or emma they weren't looking at max either despite his barking It was like she wasn't really looking at anything, just staring into some middle distance only she could see.
A no, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. We're about to head to bed, actually. She didn't react, not at first. She just stood there, swaying slightly, her hands hanging limp at her sides. I glanced at Emma, hoping she'd say something, but she was frozen, her lips parted like she wanted to speak but couldn't.
Max lunged forward, snapping his jaws, and that finally made the woman take a step back. Your dog doesn't like me, she murmured, almost to herself. I tightened my grip on Max's leash. Yeah, he's not usually like this, I lied. He's just protective.
she tilted her head as if weighing my words then without another sound she turned and walked away not toward the main path where the other campers were but deeper into the woods the firelight didn't reach far enough to track her for long but i swear i could hear her bare feet brushing against the undergrowth long after she'd disappeared for a moment neither of us said anything the silence was oppressive like the trees themselves were holding their breath
jake emma finally whispered her voice shaky who the hell was that no idea i said but the truth was i didn't believe she was just another camper something about her didn't fit the next morning the encounter felt almost like a dream one of those disjointed nightmares that sticks with you even after you wake up
Emma didn't say much as we ate breakfast, but I caught her glancing toward the tree line more than once. Even Max seemed on edge, sniffing at the air and whining softly. I decided to walk down to the water pump to refill our bottles. The campground was quiet. Most of the other campers were probably still sleeping. As I approached the pump, I saw her again.
She was standing near a tree, maybe 15 feet away, as still as a statue. Her head was tilted at that same odd angle, her hands hanging limp at her sides. This time, her eyes were locked on me. I froze. Hey, I managed, my voice sounding far less casual than I wanted it to. She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward and held something out to me.
It was a key, rusted and old, with scratches running along its edges like it had been gnawed on. "'You dropped this,' she said. "'I didn't drop anything,' I said, taking a cautious step back. She smiled then, a thin, humorless curve of her lips. "'You'll need it later,' she said, her voice soft, almost sing-song."
Look, I don't know what this is about, but I don't need it, I said, keeping my voice firm. Her smile didn't falter. She tilted her head the other way, then placed the key on the ground between us. Without another word, she turned and walked away, heading back into the woods as silently as she'd appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the key.
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Chapter 4: How did the encounter with the mysterious woman unfold?
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.'
His tone was casual, but his hand hovered near the radio clipped to his belt. We headed back to camp trying to shake off the conversation."
emma seemed a little more at ease but i couldn't stop thinking about the key about the stones something about it felt deliberate like whoever or whatever had done it wanted us to see when sam and lisa arrived later that afternoon their upbeat energy was a welcome distraction
They were an easygoing couple we'd been friends with for years, and they immediately set about pitching their tent and unpacking snacks. For a few hours, things felt normal again. But normal didn't last. It started while Sam was setting up their tent. I'd just handed him a beer when Emma froze mid-laugh, her eyes locked on something behind me. Jake, she whispered.
I turned, and there she was again. The woman stood just beyond the edge of our sight, half hidden in the shadows. She wasn't barefoot this time. She wasn't even dressed the same. She wore a strange patchwork of clothes, like she'd raided a thrift store and picked everything at random. Her face was blank as always, but her eyes, her eyes were different. They weren't vacant anymore.
They were locked on me, sharp and hungry. Can I help you? I said, trying to keep my voice steady. She didn't respond. Instead, she took a step closer, her gaze shifting to Sam and the half-assembled tent. That's the same tent as mine, she said softly. Only bigger. I can help you set it up. Sam gave her a polite but firm smile. No thanks, we got it. But she didn't move.
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Chapter 5: What eerie experiences did Emma and Jake have in the woods?
She's just some weirdo, he'd said with a shrug, popping open another can of beer. Weirdos are harmless. Harmless. The word rattled around in my skull as we headed back to her wrecked campsite.
emma had convinced us to take one last look before we made any decisions i told myself it was just curiosity that we wanted to see if the rangers had cleaned up the mess but deep down i think we were all trying to convince ourselves that none of this was as bad as it seemed we were wrong the sight was worse than before
the circle of stones was still there but now there were two circles the second one larger and more elaborate the markings on the stones deeper and more precise fresh dirt had been scraped over the ground as though something had been buried there emma spotted the claw marks first long deep gouges that ran vertically up a nearby tree they were too high to have been made by an animal but there they were unmistakable
okay i'm officially freaked out lisa said her voice shaking can we go now i nodded but something stopped me in the center of the larger circle partially buried in the dirt was another object it was a photograph I crouched down and picked it up, brushing off the dirt. My heart dropped into my stomach. It was a picture of our campsite, our exact campsite, taken from the woods.
The fire pit was glowing faintly, meaning the photo had been taken at night. And there we were, sitting around the fire, oblivious. I handed it to Emma without saying a word. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Who took this? Sam asked, his voice low. You already know, I said. The sun was starting to dip below the trees by the time we got back to our site.
None of us spoke much, the weight of the photo hanging over us like a storm cloud. Max was on edge again, pacing and sniffing the air, his growls low and constant. It was Emma who broke the silence. Let's go to the lookout, she said, her voice trembling. Just for a little while. I don't want to sit here in the dark. The lookout point wasn't far, maybe a ten-minute walk.
It was one of the most beautiful spots in the park, perched high above the valley with sweeping views of the river below. I think Emma was hoping the view would calm us down, remind us why we came here in the first place. It didn't. The lookout was empty when we arrived. The air was cooler up there, the breeze rustling through the trees in a way that should have been peaceful.
But the tension between us was electric. we sat in silence taking in the view the sun was a fiery orange ball sinking slowly behind the distant mountains emma snapped a few photos her camera clicking softly in the stillness that's when i saw her she was on the ridge below us far enough away to look like just another hiker at first glance But it wasn't just another hiker. It was her.
She stood perfectly still, her head tilted in that same unnerving way, her hair hanging in dark curtains around her face. Even from this distance, I could feel her watching us. I grabbed Emma's arm. "'Don't look,' I whispered. "'What? Why?' She froze when she saw the woman. "'Is that—' Sam started, but I cut him off. Yes, I said, don't move.
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Chapter 6: What was the significance of the rusted key?
The crisp, woodsy air hit me like a wave when I opened the door. The kind of air that makes you feel alive, even if your fingers are already starting to numb. The city was miles away, an afterthought really, and for the first time in weeks, I could breathe.
I double-checked the gear in my pack, compass, map, sleeping bag, my lightweight tent, fire starter kit, knife, everything a solo camper like me could need. This wasn't my first trip, not by a long shot. I liked going off trail, finding a pocket of the woods where I could really be alone. The kind of alone that feels freeing, not isolating.
Out here, I wasn't dodging catcalls on the sidewalk or navigating crowds with my head down. Out here, I was in charge. It was late afternoon when I finally started hiking, the sun dipping low behind the trees and casting everything in a rich, golden light. The trail wasn't much more than a faint deer path, overgrown and quiet.
I let my thoughts drift as I walked, soaking in the quiet rustle of leaves and the occasional trill of a bird. It was so peaceful, I almost didn't notice the first weird thing. There was a branch, broken and dangling at an odd angle just off the trail. I wouldn't have thought much of it, except the break was too clean. Fresh. The wood inside was pale and splintered.
The kind of thing you'd expect to see if someone had snapped it with their hands. But who? There wasn't a soul out here. At least, there wasn't supposed to be.
i shook it off could have been an animal a bear maybe or a moose i told myself not to overthink it but i couldn't help glancing over my shoulder a few times as i walked by the time i found my spot the sun was starting to dip below the horizon
i chose a small clearing with just enough room for my tent and a fire it was perfect secluded quiet surrounded by thick trees that felt like a natural barrier from the outside world i set up quickly pitching my tent with practised ease and gathering some kindling for the fire
By the time the flames were crackling, the stars were beginning to show, dotting the inky black sky like pinpricks of light. I leaned back against my pack and let out a long breath. This was what I'd come for. No deadlines, no noise, just me and the wilderness. I even laughed a little, thinking about how my friends in the city would call me crazy for doing this.
You're going to get eaten by a bear, one of them had joked. I'd rolled my eyes at the time, but now, sitting there in the dark, the thought sent a small shiver down my spine. It wasn't the idea of a bear that bothered me, though. It was the quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your ears strain for any sound, even a distant one. Normally the woods at night are alive with noise.
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Chapter 7: How did the group react to the heightened tension in the forest?
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 8: What haunting melody did they hear in the woods?
Show me where you saw it, he said. I could hear him tapping something in the background like he was already half distracted. I didn't care about his skepticism. I just wanted someone else to see it, to confirm I wasn't losing my mind. Reeves arrived in a beat-up ATV, his face lined and weathered.
He looked more bored than concerned, like he'd seen too many wild goose chases to expect this to be anything different. Let's get this over with, he muttered, motioning for me to hop onto the back. The ride into the forest was jarring, every bump and jolt rattling my already frazzled nerves. The fog had lifted, but the air felt heavier than before, the silence pressing down like a weight.
Reeves tried to make small talk as we drove. Something about how hunters sometimes mess around with their kills, but his words barely registered. My eyes were fixed on the trail ahead, every shadow between the trees sending my heart racing. When we reached the clearing, the ATV sputtered to a stop. I climbed off hesitantly, my stomach sinking as I scanned the area. The deer was gone.
Figures, Reeves said, crossing his arms. He sounded almost smug. Probably a bear dragged it off. Happens all the time. No, I said, shaking my head. This wasn't an animal. There were boot prints. Someone did this. Reeves sighed and crouched down near the center of the clearing, examining the dark stain in the dirt where the deer had been.
The blood was still there, thick and glistening, but the entrails were scattered now, like something or someone had deliberately kicked them apart. bears can leave messy scenes he said though his tone had softened he wasn't as sure as he wanted me to believe look i said pointing to the snow on the far side of the clearing the drag marks were still visible a long smooth path leading into the trees
does that look like a bear to you reeves straightened slowly his face pale he opened his mouth to say something but no words came out instead he pulled a flashlight from his belt and motioned for me to follow him stay close he said his voice tight The trail led us deeper into the woods, the trees growing thicker and the light dimmer with every step.
My breath came shallow and fast, each exhale a cloud of white in the cold air. Reeves didn't say much, but his hand hovered near the gun on his hip. That, more than anything, terrified me. After what felt like hours, we came to another clearing. My stomach churned as I saw the scene in front of us, my campsite, or what was left of it.
My tent was destroyed, slashed to ribbons that fluttered weakly in the breeze. My gear was scattered everywhere, shredded beyond recognition. And there, in the center of it all, was another pile of entrails. They weren't arranged this time. Just dumped in a heap, like someone had grown bored of playing games. Blood soaked the snow in dark, sticky patches. Reeves cursed under his breath.
Jesus Christ, he muttered, pulling his gun from its holster. He turned in a slow circle, scanning the trees. We need to go. Now. Now. "'What the hell is this?' I whispered, my voice shaking. "'Who would do something like this?' "'I don't know,' Reeves said, his eyes darting nervously from shadow to shadow. "'But we're not sticking around to find out.'
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