I was by myself, working on a railroad track in a swamp in Georgia in the middle of the night. I heard some grunting in the woods, so I froze up, then a fucking pig the size of a Volkswagen came running out of the woods in my direction. It ran right past me, and I hightailed it to my truck.

Called it a night after that.



Fifteen years ago I went camping with two school friends in bushland that backed onto my Dad’s property in Woori Yallock, Australia. My Dad didn’t spend much time at the house but said we could use it as a base to dump any gear we might not need. He also gave me a heads up that he might creep up to our campsite that night and scare the guys I was with. We hiked from the house for about four hours through very dense bush, where we found a clearing and decided to set up our camp.

Looking around the place for firewood, we kept turning up a lot of old bones- Some so old they almost looked like wood. We concluded that due to the land once being used for farming it was likely they were cow bones. We came up with a few more theories for the sake of scaring each other than built our fire (even burning a couple of the wood-like bones just to see what would happen) and settled in. I was woken up by one of my buddies at about 1 am who said he swears he saw torchlight on the tent wall. “Excellent,” I thought. We sat in silence for a few minutes before the light came back.

21 People Share Their Creepiest Experience in Seclusion (1)

This was great! I really hammed it up, making up stories about murders in the area and escaped prisoners. The light from the torch fixed on our tent, then switched off. We could hear leaves and sticks moving around outside and my buddies were on the verge of tears. Then we started hearing whispering outside, as well as some low mumbling. Dad had brought some friends in on the prank? Dedicated. The torchlight came back on and pressed right up to the tent wall, and a hand began tapping across the top while the whispering continued. My Dad had brought some friends in on the prank AND convinced them to walk four hours through dense scrub in the middle of the night just to shine a torch on our tent?

I started to panic. Then it just stopped completely, about an hour after it began. We sat in total silence aside from the sobbing of my buddies, and at dawn packed up and got the fuck out. We got back to the house and Dad was there, he apologized and said he’d planned to come out and see us last night but fell asleep at his girlfriend’s house. We told him about what happened and he was genuinely dumbfounded.

Interestingly, I went back to the spot a couple of years ago after telling this story to a friend. We found a small shack made of corrugated iron pockmarked with bullet holes, a 44-gallon drum full of burned clothes, a pile of firewood, and two axes. Who knows if it’s related, but it was fuckin creepy.



I used to live in rural Panama in a community with no electricity. The whole town is inside by sundown, around 7 pm, and asleep by 9 pm. One night, I’m outside at around 11 pm photographing stars and I have to turn my headlamp off while the camera is taking the picture, usually about 30 to 150 seconds at a time. 30 to 150 seconds of almost complete darkness.

When I finish a photo, I’ll turn my headlamp back on and look at my camera to adjust settings and take another shot. One time when I turned my headlamp on, I saw a pair of eyes just about fifteen feet away in the bushes staring at me. I’ve got friends who have worked setting camera traps throughout the country and I’ve seen picture evidence that there are still several types of big cats alive and well in the area. I lean down to pick up some rocks, look back up, and the eyes are gone.

My house is about 100 feet away. I do my best to turn my handful of rocks and dinky tripod into weapons and run as manly-like as I can back to my house. I never went back out to take pictures at night.



This summer I was out in the Dark Canyon Wilderness of Utah, after 2 weeks of driving and backpacking around the country alone. The plan was a 7-day trip and after a few days of setbacks, I was on my last night. By this time I was already a little scared of the dark but that’s just what happens when you are your only company for 3 weeks. Anyway, on the 6th day, I found an awesome elk antler and put it on my shoulders about a mile into the day’s hike.

As anyone who has poorly packed a pack will attest just slapping 15 lbs on the top of your pack is a bad idea. About halfway through my planned deathmatch, my hip was getting sore and I blew through my water. I decided that I would stop early and get some water. Luckily I found a few puddles in a dryish river bed and made camp. I started boiling some water when it struck me, if there’s skanky water here there may be good water upstream. So up I went upstream. Just as the canyon boxed out a little spring filled the bed with deliciously cold refreshing water. I drank on my hands and knees before realizing I didn’t bring my water bottles.

Whatever I hiked the half-mile or so back to the camp and grabbed them. This is where it gets weird. On my trip back up I kept feeling really vulnerable and uncomfortable. Every little rustle in the bushes set me off. I could hear birds calling in the distance that set me off. I kept looking for something following me. I can only describe my emotion as pure terror. It got to the point where I picked up a branch in the just in case a cougar tried to attack me. I still kept telling myself that it was just paranoia and I’m fine but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I finally got to the water and filled up my camelback and bottle, constantly looking over my shoulder. The feeling of unease was still with me when I headed back down the gulch.

There I came upon a fresh mountain lion print placed directly between two that I made on the way up. It’s one thing to think that your fears are unfounded paranoia, it’s much much worse to know they are true.



In 2008 I was in the Navy, we were 100+ miles from any land, it was about 3-4 am, off the coast of Peru. I was an Electronics Technician so I worked in radio with one other guy (a radioman) and we just sat up scanning on HF, UHF and VHF radios listening for drug runners. We intercepted a UHF signal that played a short piano preamble, followed by a haunting, computerized sounding woman’s voice reading numbers. “Eleven, Nine, Four, Six” etc etc. This went on for about a minute, then the preamble repeated followed by the same number sequence, then it was gone.

We recorded the transmission, wrote the numbers down, informed the captain and shortly a message was sent off to the area commander about the strange message. The reply we received was to “disregard”. Creeped me right the fuck out.

I came to find out that this is a “numbers station” and while the phenomenon is not entirely understood, it’s likely a method for getting a secure message or code to an intelligence agent in the field, over an insecure method of communication. Since the numbers could be attached to a one time code, it’s basically indecipherable.



I was camping in upstate New York a week after 2 prisoners escaped. This was a high notoriety escape and was national news. My girlfriend and I had hiked and camped for 2 days before this. We were very comfortable, had met a lot of awesome people, but everyone was on the alert of the escapees. We had settled in, in a remote area upstate New York with no one around that night. I was sound asleep that night. At 5:30 am I had started to awake but stayed in my tent, not trying to awake but to maybe go back to sleep for an hour or 2. Not long after I was awake did I hear rustling in the woods around our campsite. At first, it was a few rustles, which caught my attention but not enough to be alarmed.

Suddenly, the rustles are right outside our tent and I am on edge. Before I could even tap my girlfriend, all hell breaks loose. My tent is slashed open with a knife while I am watching. My heart almost went through my throat. Before I knew what was happening I was being pile-driven into the ground by men with guns. Thankfully I had noticed in the seconds that the men had POLICE armour on. I started screaming out my name, my address, my Social security number. Everything. My girlfriend was even jumped on and forcefully subdued while she was sleeping.

Once everyone’s adrenaline calmed down we showed our ID’s and proved we were just camping. It was one of the scariest moments of my life, and also for the police officers that subdued us. Turns out we were not far from where they were just spotted, and the police hadn’t come across anyone in days. They had thought for sure they had come upon the escapees camp.



This a kinda reverse story.

I go camping now and then, and there’s a really nice lake out in the woods about 3-4 hours walk east of Oslo, Norway. It’s a popular-ish camping spot. So, A friend and I are running out of firewood and it’s pitch black. (bad planning + whisky drunk) So we grab our flashlights and head out to get some more bits and pieces to keep the fire going.

Now, the lake is large and dotted around the lake we can see about 3-4 fires going. Other happy campers. One campsite, in particular, is rowdy. It’s a good 200 meters across the lake but we can hear them chanting and singing football songs and generally be obnoxious. It’s about 2 am now and we want to sleep.

I can do this weird thing with my voice. I let all the air out of my lungs and then breath in really fast and tighten my voice box. I can create this ungodly, banshee, inhuman scream that is LOUD and does NOT sound human. So I go for it!

Within a second, the noise from other campsites stops and the fires are doused within 10 seconds. You could hear a pin drop all across the lake. Silence…. sheer terrified silence. Even my campmate was freaked out (he’d never heard me do it before)



Got stalked by a mountain lion on a hike. It was late at night, were in a group of about 5, and didn’t have enough flashlights to go around, so we gave one to the person in front, and one to me (in back).

I felt like I was being watched, and so I real quick flashed the light around and turned my head, saw a pair of green eyes attached to a body slink back off the trail a little bit. Our light wasn’t powerful enough to get a super good bead on it, but every 30 seconds or so thereafter, I would turn around and flash the light up the trail, probably saw something about 75% of my turnarounds. It followed us for probably 1/2 hour until we were 10 minutes from the cars.

The people I was hiking with didn’t notice, and mountain lions don’t often jump large groups of adults — but I wasn’t really about “Statistically, we’re probably fine” at that point. No one else noticed, and I didn’t say a word while it was following us — really didn’t want to run the risk of panic.



I live on a compound by myself (I know it sounds Waco-ey, but It’s really my tiny home, workshop, and a couple of other buildings for food/equipment storage and a guest room).

One bad snowstorm knocked my area OOC, so I decided to hunker in for the long haul. I spent almost two weeks without leaving.

Three days in, I get woken up to a knock at the door. I get up to answer it and halfway there, I realize the only way this guy could knock on my door is if he broke the lock.

So I grab my shotgun and ask him through the door who he is and what he wants. Guy says nothing and keeps banging. I go out the back door and sneak around the front and I see a man who is on the ground, covered in blood, and shouting (albeit quietly) for help.

Turns out he was driving and crashed and dragged himself 5 miles down the road until he came to my place. By then he realized that I forgot to lock the bottom part of the gate and weaselled in.

Luckily he survived.



Not exactly seclusion but lived alone in an old house and had a creepy stay.

Again, the house was old – a huge house built in 1915 and converted into apartments for WWI soldiers before they went overseas. I rented one apartment (about 1000 sq. feet by itself) and the rest of the house was empty rooms and a giant staircase. As soon as I moved in I met the next-door neighbor, Rebecca, who (about 30 seconds into the conversation) asked me if I knew the house was haunted. I laughed it off but she insisted it wasn’t safe. Wasn’t worried, moved in, cleaned out a lot of junk and fixed the place up as well as I could.

Over the next few months Rebecca and I ran into each other here and there, and each time she added to the story. Apparently there was an old lady who lived in the apartment before me who never left, never opened the windows, and never cleaned. She died in the apartment and there was an estate sale to get rid of some of her stuff. Rebecca told me during the estate sale she had gone into the basement and regretted it.

About a week later I decided to go check out the basement, I think partly to prove to myself I wasn’t concerned. I was also curious. I’m not superstitious and I don’t believe in ghosts, but the occult is interesting to me. As soon as I stepped in the basement I was creeped out. It smelled musty but not like I have ever smelled before. Along the steps, there were burned down candles that made blueish-grey wax puddles. The basement itself had 2 huge water heater tanks (also covered in wax) and an empty concrete floor behind the tanks that had nasty looking towels around and more candles. Bizarre but not haunted.

At this point, I’ve lived in the apartment by myself for about three months without any problem. My car got broken into one night but that wasn’t surprising given the neighborhood. Nothing strange had happened until the night I checked the basement.

At 4 AM I bolted awake because I heard something in my room. This was odd for me because I sleep like a dead man. Sat in bed for a minute, heard nothing and went back to sleep.

Around 6 AM I had a night terror. Heard the noise again and woke up but this time had sleep paralysis. I saw a black figure walk in my room and stop just inside the doorway. At this point, I think it’s a robber and I start trying to ask what he wants but I can’t speak or move. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before and I was terrified. After the longest 2-3 minutes of my life, I willed myself out of sleep and the whole atmosphere changed. No one was there, nothing was out of place, no locks were broken, nothing. I quickly got ready and showed up at work two hours before it opened.

Over the next few weeks, I would hear the sound again here and there. It was a scratching and thumping sound, always very early in the morning. As soon as I would wake up it would stop. Then one morning it was especially loud. Still dark outside, 5 AM, I heard it just behind the headboard of my bed. This time I made sure I was totally awake. I laid perfectly still and didn’t even breathe and I heard it again now fully awake – there was definitely something in my room. After the sleep paralysis/imaginary robber episode I had bought a kids baseball bat and set it next to my bed for self-defence (can’t afford a gun). I picked up the bat and slid out of bed.

Every minute or so I would hear the rusting/scratching/thumping noise. It was in my closet. I stood outside the door and my heart was pounding at this point. All the stories of the place being haunted, the creepy basement, the sleep paralysis episode, the weird early morning noises – all of it had built up in my mind and led to this moment. I was about to do battle with some evil force.

I threw the door open and swung into the darkness, hitting nothing. I beat my clothes like a mad man but there was nothing in there. Then I heard a little scurry on the floor and saw something jump into one of my shoes. Upon closer inspection, it was a baby squirrel.

I went outside later and found a hole in the roof. There was a family of squirrels living in my ceiling that was very active in the early morning, and one of the babies had somehow managed to find its way into my closet to scare the hell out of me. Not haunted, just squirrels.



In 2007 I was working on a trail crew in the Trinity Alps of Northern California. We had 13 people on the crew and a few support staff.

At this point, we’d been in the woods for about 2 and a half months. We had all seen and heard bears, mountain lions, pretty much anything you can think of that would make terrifying noises.

After dinner one evening, most of us are sitting around the fire doing whatever and all of a sudden there’s a LOUD agonized screaming sound. It was unlike anything any of us had heard. If I had to describe it, I’d call it a mountain lion’s shriek combined with the horror of a banshee. Everyone was understandably freaked the hell out.

It sounded reasonably close so a few of us, myself included, decided to investigate. About three miles from our base camp there was a creature tied to a tree, absolutely losing its mind. It was a fucking llama. At this point, it’s 10 pm or so, 25+ miles from the nearest trailhead and we find this llama tied to a tree just off the trail. We tried to calm it down without much success and went back to camp.

The next morning, the llama was gone. It looked like it had broken its restraint and runoff. We kept hearing the horrible llama noises from time to time for a few weeks.

Towards the end of the season, a group of hunters passed us on the trail and after chatting for a bit we found out they tied the llama there because it decided to be stubborn and refused to walk anymore. Apparently it laid down in the trail and WOULD not move. So they left it and decided to come back for it.

We figured at that point, the llama was probably dead. We hadn’t heard any hellacious llama screams for a few months and didn’t really think about it. However, at the end of the season when we all finally got back in the crew van and were driving out, that damn llama jumped across the road about 30 yards in front of us.

I still think about the demon llama from time to time, I hope he had a fulfilling life in the trinities.



Some friends and I would take my truck up in the mountains during the wintertime and tow someone on a tube across the snow. We’d drop the tailgate in my old long bed Ford and a few guys would sit in the back with one of those bazillion candlelight spotlights. When I was driving it’d be fun to make really wide turns in the dark so the person on the tube didn’t have the luxury of headlights or taillights to somewhat illuminate their trail. The person in the bed of the truck with the spotlight would be funny and shine the light clear off to the side so it was pitch black if you were on the tube.

One particular winter night a snowstorm was rolling in so we headed up to the usual spot and it was DARK that night. A friend was on the tube, I was driving watching my mirrors as I’d swing him wide enough he had little light to see anything. The guy with the spotlight shined the light clear to the side of the truck and as I checked my mirror and I made eye contact with a guy dressed in jeans, a red plaid shirt, and a blaze orange ball cap.

As we made eye contact I lost all control of my body for probably only 5 seconds, but it felt like an eternity. I stopped the truck and turned it around and asked the guys if they saw him. They all said no, so I flipped the truck around and turned on the high beams and they shined the spotlight all over. I got out and looked for footprints in the fresh snow and saw nothing.

That night we went back home and I told my dad about the weird experience and he didn’t think anything of it. A week later on the news, the police reported finding a body in the area close to where we were and asked for any tips. My old man convinced me to call the police and tell them we were up in the area and saw that guy. I called and the police said they’d send an investigator over. He came over to the house, I recalled the same experience saying it happened 7 days earlier.

As soon as I said that, the investigator asked me “you are sure on your date?” Which I was positive, and he showed me a picture of the body they found wearing the same red plaid shirt and blaze orange ball cap. He informed me the body had been on the mountain for at least 1 month so I must have just seen something. Turns out it was a man who suffered from some mental handicaps and committed suicide on the mountain, 1 month prior to when I saw him.



This story takes place in August of 2013, in the mountains of Southern Oregon. I am a USAF Security Forces Airman (military policeman). My girlfriend was at work, and as a swelteringly hot day began to turn into thunderstorms, my buddy Nick (another military cop) and I decided to go explore some back roads and get out of the heat in town.

Southern Oregon is crisscrossed with logging roads, some actively used, and many totally forgotten and grown over. Nick and I spent many of our days off starting on roads that we knew, finding roads we didn’t know, driving for hours into the mountains, eventually navigating back to paved roads. On this particular day, with storm clouds building over the mountains, we set off on a road we had never been on and began the drive into the mountains.

After driving for around an hour, we hadn’t seen nor heard any signs of other people in the woods. We rounded a bend in the thick fir woods and emerged in a meadow that was totally surrounded by thick aspen groves. The meadow was perfectly flat and eerily still. We both noticed the strange stillness almost immediately; no birds, hardly any insect noise, no squirrels, and certainly no other people. On the far side of the meadow, right at the edge of the tree-line, there was a picnic table. The table was very odd, however. It was painted bright orange and was much larger than a typical picnic table in a park. Remarking on this, Nick drove through the meadow to get a closer look.

I remember being apprehensive as we approached. The whole scenario was exceptionally strange; the overall silence of the aspen grove was unsettling. Also, it was nearly impossible to see far into the trees as aspens grow extremely close together. When we parked by the table, I hopped out of the passenger seat of the truck to check it out. I’m not very tall, only about 5’5″, regardless, the table was ridiculously oversized and practically unusable. The seats were nearly at chest level, meaning I would have to climb up to even sit on them.

As I was looking at the table, Nick called me over to the truck, and I noticed he was looking back into the aspens. At first, I couldn’t see what he was looking at, but then I noticed a splash of color that was completely out of place in the thick trees. A small one-man tent was set back in the trees, about 50 feet from the strange table.

I had an initial feeling of dread and felt certain that there was someone in the tent, and if we could see the tent, they could see us. There were no campgrounds in this area; no people, no main roads for miles. Surely someone camping so remotely would be, at the very least, a strange person. However, as we observed the tent, we didn’t see any movement or hear any sounds coming from it. Nick suggested I call out; I didn’t want to, but I did. “Hey! Anyone in there?”, I yelled.

No reply. Feeling completely on edge, Nick and I thought about driving away and leaving this strange area. But we began to fear the worst; what if there was a body in the tent? What if somebody had gotten kidnapped? Foolish, I know, but we thought it, all the same.

After some debate, we decided to have Nick turn the truck around to drive away from the camp; should we need to leave in a hurry, he would be waiting behind the wheel. With my heart pounding, I started walking through the trees towards the tent. I was totally keyed up with my senses on full alert. When I reached the “campsite”, several things struck me as odd. Backpacks were scattered all over. No fire had been built, no wood collected. The tent… The tent was literally full of backpacks, and women’s clothing. Full of dread, I turned to leave and tell Nick what I had seen. As I left, I heard Nick start yelling.

“Let’s go! Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Not knowing why he was yelling, I ran back to the truck. When I broke out of the trees, I saw a beat-up old Ford Taurus on the road, blocking us from leaving the meadow. I immediately leapt into the passenger seat, and Nick floored the gas pedal. The car was occupied by two men; a third person was laying against the window in the back. As we drove across the meadow, the driver attempted to block us from the road, but Nick drove around them and accelerated the way we had come from. I looked back and saw the car attempting to turn around on the narrow road. Nick drove like a mad man, and though I was honestly terrified that they would catch up, we hit the highway without seeing the car again. I still do not know if the person in the back was male or female.

I called the State Police, and they promised to send a Trooper out to check out the scene. However, I received a call the next day from a Trooper stating that the campsite, the backpacks, and the women’s clothing was all gone, though he could tell people had been in the area. The strange table was still by the thick aspen grove. I have not returned to the area, and do not intend to.



This wasn’t necessarily a LOT of time, but I was in solitude, and it was at sea. When I was 23 I was a dockhand for a boat-rental club. I bought myself a 27ft Catalina sailboat and lived on it at the docks for about a year while I worked for the boat club. I would often get toasted on 101 proof peppermint schnapps and go joy-sailing late at night on the Chesapeake Bay for kicks. My mainsail tears and my atomic 4 engine breaks down.

I drift out of the channel, drop anchor, plug in my back-up batteries for power for my anchor light, and bed-down in my forward berth to wait until morning for one of my co-workers to tow me back in. I’m about a mile offshore, well out of the channel in about 60ft of open water when I hear a rhythmic thudding on my hull beneath me. It was like someone was doing a semi-fast snare-roll with closed fists against my hull. There was nothing in my head that I could figure could make that noise happen besides someone diving under by boat and literally beating on it.

I went topside with my flashlight to investigate and couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, and the sound continued on and off for about 15 minutes then stopped. It was a calm night with nearly no wind or waves at this point, and I visually couldn’t see what could have been making the noise. It came from mid-ship so it couldn’t be the motor being weird or something, and I checked my bilges for any anomalies and couldn’t find any.

It left me pretty shaken up because I just couldn’t figure what could make that sound as loudly, and as precisely as it was. I could FEEL the bumps hitting against the fibreglass hull. I eventually got back to sleep and made it back to the docks the next morning. I dove on my boat that day to check for anything amiss and didn’t find anything off. Needless to say, that was the last time I went out alone at night…


Where do I start? So I was just about 24 years old when my cousin Charlie had gotten throat cancer. He wasn’t really my cousin, he was my Dad’s cousin, but for whatever reason, I always called him cousin Charlie. Anyways, he and his wife lived up around San Louis Obispo, and when he was finally recovering from cancer, he went to stay in his estate in mainland Hawaii. At one point he needed someone to babysit his house in San Louis, and I volunteered.

Fast forward, I’m staying at his place by myself; we’re talking Satellite Internet and Television slower than a snail. I had found myself enthralled in a Lord of The Rings marathon and proceeded to stay up till around 2:30 am. Changing the channel meant whatever channel I was clicking meant it would choose 4 stations down from my selection so I was hesitant to change the channel.

The marathon ends and I proceed to make some green tea. That’s when I hear it. A distant scream calls across the valley below. I knew it was a human scream but for some reason, I just refused to believe it. The thing about houses inland from San Louis is that you have a lot of room between your neighbors; we’re talking about 2 miles apart from each other. If someone played music on the other side of the hill, you had no problem hearing it. I thought maybe they screamed because they were watching a scary film, or perhaps they were playing a board game; I really don’t know I just did my best to imagine it was me over exaggerating.

About 2 minutes had gone by, and I passed it off at this time, getting lost in Infomercials. That’s when I heard something familiar to a firecracker, but then I heard it multiple times. Something didn’t seem right, so I grabbed the nearest blunt object and headed upstairs. My Cousin Charlie has a 360-degree second deck which I proceeded to go and take the watch on with a fire poker; like that would do me any good.

I listened, but I could only hear the wind. I would later end up falling asleep in one of the rocking chairs and then waking up about 40 minutes later.

What I later found out from my Cousin Charlie is that a man had got into a big argument with his wife and shot her as she ran from the house. I also later found out that because I was the only one who had left the outside lights on that she had run towards me, but died from her wounds about 60 percent of the way here.

This still gives me chills.



I grew up in the arctic.

In the town I lived in, as long as it was a clear night, it was an extremely normal occurrence to see all sorts of strange lights move across the sky. Keep in mind the winter is long in the arctic, which means longer amounts of time being spent under the stars. It’s quite beautiful, as long as you don’t mind the cold so much. Sometimes I would drive a snowmobile a few kilometres out of town, shut it down, and just lay down on the snow looking up at the majesty of it all, the only thing disturbing the silence being the occasional breeze.

The northern lights are also a common occurrence. Doesn’t happen every day, but often enough that they start getting ignored after a while, as long as they aren’t too spectacular anyway.

On one particular night, without asking my parents (it was their snowmobile), I decided to go on one of my midnight drives out of town. I drove a few kilometres over the hills to find a spot devoid of light pollution from town, shut off the machine and settled into a good spot to look up and be introspective.

It wasn’t all that interesting a scene. A few satellites passing here and there, some relatively boring activity affecting the magnetic field, etc. And then I started noticing a clicking noise…

At first, I thought it was the sound of the snow machine cooling down, as engine expands and contracts a lot in the cold. But the source of the sound definitely wasn’t coming from that direction. My next thought was there must be an animal nearby in which case I need to get out of there fast (you don’t really want to mess with a wild animal). But, the clicking is far too regular for an animal to produce it. It was fairly mechanical sounding. And again, the source of the sound isn’t coming from anywhere around me laterally. It was coming from up. So naturally, I look up determined to ascertain the origin of this strange noise.

I see what I always see: stars, northern lights, a lazy satellite crossing the sky…all normal stuff. But before I dismiss it altogether and begin heading home, I notice something strange in the Aurora Borealis. There were three rather strong points of light. I ignored them at first thinking they were oddly symmetrical stars, but this proved false. They were definitely getting brighter. I kept staring in morbid fascination as they grew stronger and stronger, yet still only remaining single points in the sky. All the while the clicking noise is getting louder and louder and more pronounced, almost like someone started with tapping a pen on a desk to clacking billiard balls together inside my head.

Then it stops. The lights are gone, the clicking is not heard, and aside from being a little stiff, cold, and rather petrified, I’m fine.

So I jump back on the snowmobile thinking maybe I’m going crazy. The machine takes a little longer than usual to start up, and I’m beginning to worry, but soon it’s running and I’m heading back to town. As I’m driving back several plausible scenarios as to what occurred are running through my head. I’m thinking it could’ve been a helicopter from the mine, or some strange northern lights behaviour etc. Probably not that big a deal.

I pull up to my house. Lights are all dark. Strange. It wasn’t that late when I left. Open the outer door as quietly as possible, remove winter gear, enter the inner door. House is quiet. Really quiet. My parents are teachers and are usually up late marking or watching T.V. All I’m thinking is I have to get to bed without anyone noticing. Proves to be easy as I’m soon under my covers. I go to set my alarm for the next day. All of a sudden everything makes sense.

Engine hard to start, stiff, rather chilly, nobody up when I was gone what felt like a relatively short period of time…

It was almost 11:00 pm when I left, and now it was creeping up on 6:00 am. I stood, staring at clicking lights for almost 7 hours.

I never ended up sleeping that night, and I don’t go on late-night snow machine rides anymore.



I spent an entire year in my cousin’s Finca in Colombia. It’s very deep into the mountains and 90% of his land is covered in forest. That whole year was basically one massive nope. I can say that at least every other day something completely crazy would happen. One of the things I remember the most was “la ronda”. One day I was picking some tomatoes when suddenly the whole mountain goes silent. Not a single animal made a sound. Note that this is Colombia and there are many birds there.

Anyway, I stop what I’m doing and listen closely because what the fuck. That’s when every fucking critter imaginable starts coming out of every hole and every crack and starts hauling ass uphill. Massive tarantulas, huge cockroaches, beetles, mice, rats, etc. Anything that crawled on land, basically. Then the dogs started barking and whimpering. That’s when my cousin yelled “la Ronda, la Ronda!” Which basically means “The round, the round!” He tells me to get inside the house. He gets this bag out with some sort of poison and starts pouring it outside the house. I then hear what sounds like running water coming uphill from the trees.

I looked outside and saw what was probably millions of ants crawling up the mountain and eating every living thing in their path. It was absolutely terrifying. I couldn’t see the ground because there were so. Many. Fucking. Ants. Luckily, the poison worked and they crawled around the house. My cousin was happy, however, because the ants killed whatever pests were around.



I am in the Army and while training in hornfels Germany our platoon was sitting on a screen line conducting an area reconnaissance mission. During the night the guy on guard heard someone bang 3 times on the left side of the Bradley, which doesn’t make sense because you would need another large metal object to make such a noise. Less than 5 seconds later he heard the same 3 “knocks” on top of the turret. A few seconds pass and a high pitched tone comes through the headset with 3 knocks on the back door of the Bradley along with someone screaming “HEY LET ME IN!!!”.

This wakes me and one other up and we open the door thinking it’s someone in our platoon who was trying to get in touch with us. There was only complete darkness, we waited about 30 sec, geared up and checked a 50m semi-circle around our Bradley finding nothing. We get back inside and every fault light in the turret is on with some blinking (they don’t blink, ever). The radios were also completely dead. We restarted the turret and everything worked fine. Called over the net to see if anyone was near our area and no one was. Next day we asked the OCs (essentially referees) and no one else was out the night prior. Shortly after, we discovered an old tank half-buried and rusted out near our position. We came to the conclusion that it must have been ghost nazis.



I have an older guy friend who grew up in 1950s Alaska where his dad was a bush pilot.

So one day, they’re out flying around just for a nice day, and suddenly the entire sky goes red.

Complete red and clouds and no radio.

At the time, he’s old enough to understand what was going on, but still young that they just don’t talk about it. His dad continues flying- for hours and not a word, but still thinking that the Cold War had just ended in the thermonuclear holocaust. It wasn’t out of the question- Alaska was a target close to Russia, and this was the height of the cold war.

The sky is still forever red.

Finally, they start to run out of fuel. They have to land, but they don’t know what’s going on and zero ability to find out. His dad eases the plane down, finds the landing strip, and goes in for an emergency landing.

They make it down perfectly, no hiccups, bumps, or anything. The airport is beside itself (red sky and an unannounced emergency landing), and a crew guy comes up to help them out.

“What’s going on?” his dad asked.

“You have no idea just how lucky you are. A volcano just went off, and you’ve been flying through the debris.”

Thank god no thermonuclear warfare, and they were stupidly lucky that the plane didn’t stall out in the middle of nowhere Alaska with a volcano spewing nearby.



So this happened 3 years ago when I was living with my parents in Meeteetse, Wyoming. Super small and secluded. It was Halloween and my parents decorated the house and we expected about 3-4 kids to show up as the house is about a mile from a subdivision and parents usually drive their kids. At 8 I took in the chair with candy because I figured no one else would be coming around. I’m in the basement where there are no windows and very little sound can get out and it’s about 11. All the lights upstairs are shut off because I’m going to bed.

I hear a knock at the side door (which no one ever knocks at). I go upstairs and the floodlight which usually turns on automatically wasn’t on. So I flipped on the other light that lights up the basketball hoop area. There’s a person in one of those “old man” masks that have the crazy hair just standing there. He is just looking at the house. He sprints to the back where the patio is. I hear loud banging on the back windows. Honestly the loudest kicking I’ve ever heard. I rush over and the person is just staring. Then he runs away and I do t hear anything for 5 minutes or so. Then I start hearing the knob to the main door being forcefully jiggled back and forth.

I ran upstairs to the bedroom and went to the crawl space in the attic. I immediately dialled 911. This was the first time I ever dialled 911 so I don’t know what I was expecting but the operator didn’t seem to be very shocked or wanting to send out a car very quickly. I remember repeating my address like 12 times and the lady kept saying “calm down sir.” She wants me to stay on the line but I’m afraid if the guy got in he would know where I was because of my voice. I hang up and I can hear the knob being slammed like he had a hammer or something. I’m having a full-on panic attack and I’m wheezing trying to get air.

Then I hear the side door (original door) being kicked super hard. At this point I’m shaking so bad the dust from the floorboards is flying up in the air. I hear a window smash and I immediately know he’s going to get in. I hold my breath which makes the wheezing worse. I’m going to die. I’m listening to hear footsteps or anything. Nothing. The actual amount of time I spent up there was around 16 minutes. I swear it was an hour. An officer showed up and pounded on the door. I ran downstairs and flipped open the door. I told him everything as well as the backup Sheriffs that got there.

They all kept saying a “friend” was probably just trying to scare me. I had no friends in Wyoming. None. They looked around the house and wrote down some shit but nothing really happened. They left and I drove behind them to Cody, WY and got a hotel room. I still can’t sleep without all the lights on and a .45 on my dresser.



I’m a pretty avid backpacker in the PNW. Sometimes I’ll hike for days on end without seeing another person. I think it’s exhilarating being completely alone, there’s really no feeling like it. You get used to it, but personally I can never help but be on edge. The environment is completely serene and friendly, but there’s a constant feeling in the back of your mind, it’s hard to put your finger on. Most of the time you’ll be chugging along, comfortable in your mind, but when you stop for rest, or to fill up on water, you can’t help but look over your shoulder.

Nothing bothers me much out in the woods. I’ve run into brown bears, had elk trample through camps late at night and much more. But one night was different. I was on a deep backwoods hike, in the late fall off-season. was pretty cold, but the snow hadn’t quite started falling yet. I like that. In fact, I usually plan my trips this way. The forest ranger I talked to when I was organizing the trip said I was the only hiker she knew of who’d be up there at the time. I was using dispersed camping sites so far off the beaten path they don’t have fire pits. That night was 5 or 6 miles from the trail Into the area. I set up camp at a site about a hundred yards from a stream, close enough that a faint babbling was audible. I’d lit a fire, cooked dinner, read for a while and was settling down to sleep. I lay listening for a while to the sounds of the woods and the creek. Just as I was nodding off, I think I hear voices. Nothing distinct, no clear words, but clearly a group of people was having a good time, laughing, maybe telling stories around a campfire.

A feeling of dread came over me. I thought: “I shouldn’t leave the tent.” Fear like I’ve never felt engulfed me. All the hairs on my arms, legs, and on the back of my neck stood on end. I lay there for a while in a panic, the voices carrying on laughing indistinctly. After a while, they receded into the background noise. I still didn’t leave the tent, I was too afraid.

The next morning after a very short night’s sleep, I searched the surrounding area and the path to the site. The few shoe prints I found were faded and worn around the edges, too old and too few to be from the size of the group I’d heard.

I tried to shrug it off as nerves, maybe nervousness got the best of me, but I couldn’t shake a certain tension. I made good time to my next site, the last of the trip, looking around a little more than usual. Still, nobody to be seen.

That site had no stream. Dry camping isn’t a blast, but it’s doable if you pack enough water for cooking and drinking for the night. It was a lot quieter, just the chirps of bugs and the wind rustling the trees. I cooked my dinner and stayed up a good while after dark sitting on a log, looking at the stars and listening to the sounds of the forest, trying to hear the voices from the night before, but there was nothing. I turned in for the night, stretching every act out. I lay there, restless for what felt like hours. Finally, a calm comes over me. And it’s back. Nothing threatening or particularly scary, just the sounds of a group of 15-20 having a good time, barely audible above the background noise. This time I’m calm, and there’s what seems like an internal dialogue in the back of my mind: ‘Why not join them? Sounds like they’re having fun.’ “I’d really rather stay here.” This is entirely unconscious and goes on for a while. I’d never experienced anything like this. I was worried that I’d lost it. After a time, the noises faded away into the white noise, and I felt that I was alone.

The next day I packed as quickly as I could and got out of Dodge. During the day I was more at ease like I had always been in the past. I was relieved when I got to the car and started back home.

I told the story a few times, and every time I felt a little of that dread from the first night. I really had no reason to feel strongly about what had happened. I just heard strange noises in the forest, nothing extraordinary, but I felt it.

On one occasion, I told the story of my teacher who’s native. He got quiet for a minute, then said I had run into stick Indians. He said that it was good that I didn’t leave the tent. Stick Indians are evil and dangerous being that prey on children and women. The look on his face was sober. He told me not to go back to that place again. These spirits are extremely aggressive and attack and kill at the slightest provocation, including even saying their Salish name, which he refused to do.

Whenever the subject comes up, I get that same fear in me. As I write this I’m thousands of miles from those sites and my arms are still quaking.


Thank you to all the contributors on Reddit.