Terrifying Scary Stories From the Middle of Nowhere
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What three remote horror stories set the tone in the intro?
Tonight, we're heading deep into the middle of nowhere, places where the roads disappear, the trees stretch for miles, and when something begins watching you from the darkness, there may be no one close enough to hear you scream. Our first story begins in March of 2002, when four college friends arrive at a secluded hunting camp in the Louisiana wilderness and discover that someone has been studying their every move. The second story, a man buys 40 acres at a tax auction for an unbelievable price, only to discover that the property was never truly abandoned. Somebody was already living there, and they have no intention of leaving. And the last story, after drunkenly storming away from a crowded carnival, a young man becomes lost in the woods, just before several voices begin closing in around him, and one of them shouts, "'Grab him!'
Before we begin, make sure you like this video, subscribe to the channel, and turn on notifications so you never miss another terrifying story. And if you like listening on the go or for sleep, follow the Just Creepy Podcast on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or anywhere you get your podcasts. Now, turn off the lights, put on your headphones, and let's begin.
It starts in March of 2002.
How did a March 2002 hunting trip in the Kasachi turn into a stalking nightmare?
I was 21 years old, finishing my junior year at Northwestern State in Nakatish. If you're not from Louisiana, that's pronounced Nakatish. And no, I can't explain why. I grew up in Pineville, right outside Alexandria, and I'd been hunting and fishing the Kasachi National Forest my whole life. My dad took me squirrel hunting out there when I was eight. I knew those woods. That's the part that still gets me, honestly. I knew those woods, and I never once felt unsafe in them until that week. There were four of us. Me. My roommate Bo, who I'd known since high school. A guy named Kyle who lived down the hall from us and had attached himself to our group freshman year and never left. Which was fine, because Kyle was the kind of guy who'd give you his last twenty bucks without thinking about it.
And Dustin. Dustin Arsenault. He's the one this story is really about, in a way, even though he'd probably tell you it's about me, since I'm the one who saw the man first. Dustin's uncle owned a camp off a gravel road south of Gorham, in the Kisachi Ranger District, maybe a 15-minute drive from the Longleaf Vista overlook if you know the area. When I say camp, I mean camp in the Louisiana sense. A cabin, one room, a wood stove, a screened porch, an outhouse, and a hand pump for water that his uncle swore was potable and none of us fully trusted. The cabin sat on about 12 acres of private land completely surrounded by national forest. You turned off the parish road onto a dirt track, went through a cattle gate, and drove another half mile through the pines before you even saw the place.
No neighbors. No power lines. Nothing. Spring break lined up with the opening of turkey season that year, and Dustin's uncle said we could have the camp for the whole week. We thought we'd won the lottery. Four college guys, a truck bed full of beer, shotguns for the turkeys, fishing rods for Kasachi Bayou, and seven days with no classes and no girlfriends. I remember the drive-in. Bo had a 96 Silverado, and we had the windows down, and it was one of those perfect Louisiana spring days before the humidity turns mean. And I remember thinking this was going to be one of those weeks we talked about for the rest of our lives. I was right about that part, just not the way I meant it. The first two days were exactly what you'd picture.
We scouted for turkey sign in the mornings, fished the bayou in the afternoons, and sat around the fire pit at night drinking bush and telling the same stories we'd told each other a hundred times. The cabin had two sets of bunks inside, but the weather was so good that Kyle and I set up tents in the clearing out front, more for the fun of it than anything. The fire pit sat between the tents and the cabin, and past the fire pit was maybe 40 yards of open grass before the tree line started.
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Chapters
4 chapters
1
What three remote horror stories set the tone in the intro?
0:15–1:42
2
How did a March 2002 hunting trip in the Kasachi turn into a stalking nightmare?
1:42–10:59
3
What evidence convinced deputies someone was living and watching the camp?
10:59–1:10:44
4
How did sniper-like shots during turkey hunting reveal a targeted attack on Dustin?
1:10:44–1:42:03
Speakers
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