← Southern Cannibal's Scary Stories
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D.Com so my family owns a cabin on a small lake up in New Hampshire. We go there every summer. It's basically our home away from home. There are other houses on the lake, quite a few near us, but beyond that it's a pretty rural area. Miles of wood stretch beyond the lake houses, so there's literally no reason to be in the area unless you were hunting on a lake house or were visiting the lake for whatever reason. So one night, maybe six years ago, it was late, probably around midnight, my ex and I were laying in bed just chatting about whatever. All of a sudden we hear footsteps outside the open window. The window lays only about halfway up on the wall to the side of the bed and is situated so that it opens right at the bottom of the bed where our feet are. The ground around my house is covered in a layer of pine needles that drop from above, so it's pretty hard to walk quietly, but the footsteps sounded like whatever was making them was trying their best not to be heard. They sounded relatively close, but we rationalize to ourselves that they were probably made from some sort of animal. A couple of minutes go by and we hear them again, except this time they seemed closer. They seemed to be right outside the window, still trying to move quietly. At this point the two of us are starting to get a little freaked out. To our mutual horror, we look down and see a hand slowly coming through the window. Obviously we scream and wake the house up and my parents come running out of their adjacent room. We tell them what happened and of course my father rationalizes it as the event being a figment of our imaginations. To this day, I still don't know if he's right or not. The weird thing is that both my ex and I saw the same thing, so how could it be our imaginations? To this day I feel uneasy staying in that room and I always make sure to shut the windows before I go to bed A few years back, my girlfriend and I, having hiked several other parts of the Appalachian Trail, decided we wanted to give the southern portion of Virginia's trail a shot. It is about 166 miles long and runs through George Washington and Jefferson National Forests from Roanoke county to Pearisburg and Giles County. This is definitely one of the more remote and less traveled parts of the trail, which is exactly what we were looking for. We gathered our gear and made our way to the start of the Virginia Creeper Trail to begin our journey. We had planned our journey to end at Damascus and figured that by the time we got there we would be more than ready to get home to our own beds. It was early October and the changing of the leaves and colors were amazing. The air was crisp and cool. Perfect hiking weather with beautiful scenery. The majority of the trip was pretty uneventful, just your typical hike, but our last couple of nights is where things got weird. On this portion of the trail. You're supposed to camp on the trail or a designated shelter. We didn't really want to run into other people and didn't want anyone coming up on us in the middle of the night. We decided to ignore those suggestions and find our own little spot off the trail a little searching around and we found a spot a little ways off the trail in the middle of a small clearing. It was perfect. We set up camp, cooked some food, talked for a while, and then snuggled up and went to sleep for the night. Somewhere around 2am I was awoken by my girlfriend shaking me awake and telling me, get your gun, someone's outside walking around our tent. She informed me that she woke up to what sounded like someone right outside the tent running a knife or something along the side while circling us. Whenever hiking, I carry a 1911 and a Judge with me. You never know exactly who or what you might run into when on such a long hike in a remote location. I got the judge out of my backpack and then we sat silently listening for any sounds. A few minutes of nothing but the breeze blowing through the trees. I heard crunching sounds. Someone or something was walking in the woods behind our tent. I got the flashlight and silently made my way out of the tent. Our fire had gone out, so it was nearly pitch black, illuminated by only the dim glow of the October moon. I told my girlfriend to stay put while I checked it out. I didn't flick the flashlight on right away so as to not give away that I was out of the tent and have it become a shining beacon of my location. Instead, I waited to hear more noises. After a few minutes, I heard more crunches. It sounded like it was bipedal based on the way the steps were paced. I turned on the flashlight and flooded the area with light. I thought I saw someone move behind a tree. I yelled out and told them to go away and that I was armed. I keep the light on the area with my gun drawn and slowly approach towards the area where I thought I saw the figure. Then from my right, I hear what sounds like someone running away through the woods. I spin and face my light that way, and then from the original spot, hear who or whatever was there, take off into the woods. There's absolutely no way I'm giving chase, so I return to the campsite. I tell my girlfriend about what happened, and I end up setting guard outside the tent in the darkness until daybreak. In the morning, I looked around a bit for signs of whoever or whatever it was, and I discovered a boot print in some soft moisture not too far from our tent. It wasn't mine and it wasn't my girls. This freaked me out as it confirmed that someone, perhaps more than one, was skulking around our tent in the dark. I kept it to myself because I didn't want to freak my girl out any more than she already was. At this point, we were pretty deep in and we still had two days left. That day, we walked a little faster than normal and covered as much ground as possible. When it came time to set up camp, I found a spot near a cliff where we could place the tent in a small overhang and prevent anyone from coming up behind us. The whole day up to this point, I had a Feeling we were being followed. I had no confirmation of this as I hadn't seen or hurt anyone else, but it was just a gut feeling. We set up camp and made some food, then retreated to the tent. I gave my girl the 1911 and I kept the judge right next to me and I assured her that if I slept at all, it would be with one eye open. After a while she drifted off to sleep and I stayed awake listening to the sounds of the woods. At night I was awake for a few hours just waiting to see if anything was going to happen. At some point, I guess my exhaustion caught up with me and I drifted off. I awoke sometime later to what sounded like someone going through our stuff outside the tent. I grabbed my gun and woke up my girlfriend, shushing her to be quiet. From the faint glow of the fire I could see someone's silhouette against the tent. There really was someone out there. I yelled at them, something along the lines of hey man, we're armed. Get the hell out of here. They dropped what they were doing and bolted. I came out of the tent, gun drawn and ready to shoot someone. Our stuff was strewn all about. They had rummaged through quite a bit of our stuff. I walked to the edge of the woods in the direction of whoever was out there had fled. There was a creek nearby and I walked to the edge where there was a small trail running alongside it. Down the creek I could see a light. It looked like a lantern, the way it flickered. Then I saw three more emerge from the other side of the woods. I told my girlfriend to start packing up whatever she could and that we were leaving now. We packed up everything of value, left the tent and a few other items, and headed back onto the trail. In the middle of the night, I kept hearing people talking off in the woods and hearing branches snap for quite some ways. I kept looking behind us every few seconds just to make sure nobody was coming up on us. It was completely nerve wracking if something happened. We were still a long way from anywhere and quite literally on our own. Since we hadn't seen another hiker the entire time we'd been out there, I really felt like we were in serious danger. We had been walking for quite some time when I heard something in the woods behind us. As we rounded a corner, I turned around and saw someone step out into the trail and just stand there watching us. It was just as the sun was coming up and barely any light. I couldn't make out any features, just the silhouette. I stopped and looked at them for a sec And I asked them who they were and what they wanted. They just stood there silently watching us and then turned and walked back into the woods. We picked up the pace and kept going. Looking back every so often, we didn't see them again. But my gut told me they were still there for quite a ways. We eventually reached the end of the trail and got to where we had parked my girlfriend's car. Extremely exhausted, we had made it out of the Virginia woods without becoming a mule for a clan of cannibalistic, inbred hillbillies, which is what I had pictured happening in my head the whole time. I have no idea who they were or what they wanted. Maybe it was someone just messing with us. Or maybe it was a clan of deformed hillbillies who were hunting us. I will never know, because I will not be returning to find out. This is a true story. Every time I tell it, it pulls the eyes of everyone in the room. I'm not sure why I haven't posted it before, but upon reflecting with a friend, I decided it was time to share it. In the summer of 2020, my friends Alex and Violet and I decided to go on a mountain vacation. Covid cabin fever had hit us hard, and we were desperate to get out. We settled on a mountain estate and planned a camp and hike at several different locations. For one night, we thought it would be fun to book a cabin in the woods. Violet's parents had rented a fire tower once and loved it. But a cabin beside a fire tower was all we could find. It was cheap, clean, and secluded. Excited to have a night where we could be as obnoxious as we wanted, we booked it. In the weeks leading up to the trip, we decided it would be a great idea to drop acid at the cabin. Violet bought an entire sheet in preparation for our arrival, and it was tucked in her bag. As we pulled out of the driveway to make our way to the cabin, I remember this knot in the pit of my stomach, this aching feeling that gnawed at me. I told Alex and Violet that there was no way we could drop acid that night. Violet was pissed. We turned around and got into a massive argument, but I stood my ground. I just knew that we had no business tripping that night. Finally, the fireworks settled and we were off. The cabin was roughly 30 minutes away from the nearest town. It sat atop a mountain. We held our breath as we rounded the busted road that spiraled toward the top. There were no pull offs, no other campsites, just a long, winding road that led us to the Cabin at the peak. We settled in and started a fire to keep warm. As dusk gave way to night, we heard the unmistakable noise of an engine on the road. Then the flash of headlights a side by side with three kids arrived and our nerves settled. They smiled, gave us a wave, climbed the fire tower and left. We heard that there may be occasional visitors to the fire tower, but they were the only ones who'd come by. We doused the fire and moved inside, heated some hot dogs until they were lukewarm, ate them fast, and sat in silence. You truly don't know how quiet it is until you're in the middle of nowhere. You can hear every rustle of the leaves, the whisper of the wind through their branches. You get so used to white noise living in the city. There's always the hum of an air conditioner or the dim roar of traffic to focus on. Here, the closest thing to white noise was the sound of our own breathing. We literally jumped at every noise, too frightened to speak to one another. And finally I had enough. I cracked a few wine coolers and passed them to Alex and Violet and slapped a board game down on the table between our bunk beds. It didn't take us long for us to loosen, and we were laughing, having the grand old time that we'd envisioned, much soberer than we'd thought, but enough that we were able to ignore the rumble of the woods. Later on, we'd all recall hearing noises in the background. The snap of twigs, the dim rumble of an engine. None of us wanted to rupture the air of nonchalance between us, so we ignored it until a human hand reached up to the window between us and slapped it three times. We were screaming in an instant. Alex called 911, put them on speakerphone, and handed his cell to me. He grabbed the pokers from the fireplace and passed them out. Violet started calling family members and saying her last goodbyes. I held my breath and listened for any more noise. Whoever this was, whatever this was, would have heard us call 911. And now they were being careful to make a silent retreat. Dispatch arrived 20 minutes later. A lucky thing for a 1am Emergency call, and they had their dogs comb the mountain. Nothing. They suggested that it may have been a bear, but I could tell from their faces that they didn't believe that for a second. We had barely cooked those hot dogs. And why would a bear smack the window by a couple of screaming kids rather than the one closest to the pan that we used to cook? Why would a bear knock on the window like A human. Why, when we screamed, did the bear make a stealthy retreat? They had no answers. But they had one anecdote. As they sped to us, they'd come across a car at the base of the mountain. But that was the only sign of life they'd seen. I remembered that my blood ran cold. But Violet and Alex were too frazzled to absorb the weight of what they'd said. And they were dizzied by a new horror. Violet's car, thoroughly dusted by our drive up to the mountain, was covered in handprints. Handprints that didn't match our own, that touched places we hadn't. We grabbed our crab by the armful and threw it inside. Eager to remove every part of ourselves from this mountain, we followed the police. Grateful every pothole found us. Further and further from that wretched cabin. We made it down in record time. And we found lodging at a seedy hotel that reeked of cab pissed. I couldn't sleep. The thought of that car on the road rang in my head. Remember, there was nothing else on that mountain. It was a narrow road to the top. No pull offs, no other campsites. There was the fire tower. Maybe a visitor decided to spook us during their late night excursion. But the kids from earlier. We'd seen their headlights. Whoever did this had stopped their vehicle further down the road and hiked the rest of the way. They didn't want to be spotted. They wanted silence, secrecy. Whoever this was hadn't been looking for a cheap scare. They'd planned this. I don't think I'll ever know what the person on the mountain wanted from me. I don't know if it was a practical joke or the beginning of a night of terror. I'm grateful for Alex's quick wit in calling 911. I wonder if our visitor knew we had service. It had certainly been a welcome surprise to us. Perhaps that was a wrench in his plan. Enough to spook him before he could make things ugly. In truth, I don't know if I want to know. I have a tale from a long time ago I thought I would share. I hope I don't bore any of you. I am now a 72 year old man. This happened long ago, but I remember it so well. The background was a series of events that placed me in a mountain cabin outside of Frederick, Maryland, circa 1969 or 1970. Just say. My life at the time was in disarray. I had dropped out of college. My father had died very badly and I was alienated. I needed to get my mind right. The opportunity to move to an isolated cabin to live in, contemplation and solitude was welcome. I had some inheritance money to pay for it. To the best of my memory, I was there for eight, nine months. No tv, but books and radio. I had a library card and I can't remember if I had a phone. The story begins when, a month into my stay, a female beagle showed up at my door. She was a lost dog and I took her in. Never could train her to do anything, but I fed her and she was sweet, if not the brightest dog I ever had. A few months in, I began to feel a presence around the isolated cabin. Hard to describe, but I felt like someone was watching. On many occasions, I thought someone might even be looking in my cabin window, watching us. The next phase was the shadowing, or following. I knew the folks half a mile down the lane, woods all around, and would sometimes visit them at night. Someone, something was waiting for me and followed closely in the woods beside me. In the darkness you could hear it easily. Footsteps in the woods. And it picked up its pace as I did. This not only happened to me, but to my younger brother who visited and to friends. And it spooked them out big time. At night it was out there, around the cabin. Here's the funny thing. I was never afraid and never felt threatened. Not at all. At least early on, there was no feeling of malevolence. I spent a good bit of time wandering the vast areas of woodlands around me. There was a state park just up the hill, and the Frederick Municipal Forest went on for mile after mile. The whole of western Maryland was so much more country than it is now. None of the development had set in yet. In our hikes, the dog and I, we came across evidence of campsites, recent ones in the woods. Traces of fires, old abandoned buildings that had corners that gave shelter and looked like they were slept in. Garbage, food and drink, paper, what have you. Perhaps it was hunters, but much of it didn't have the organized feel you would get from experienced hunters. The last month of my stay there was when things intensified. Maybe he sensed I was preparing to leave. In the mornings, I would find small dead animals at the bottom of the front porch steps. The cabin had a small front porch, screened with a light door and four wooden steps to the ground. A spotlight would illuminate the long front yard with woods close by on either side. Dead animals began to appear at the bottom of the steps. Many mornings I remember small birds, then a squirrel, a rabbit, even a weasel. One day, like they were offerings. I had to grab them up before the dog ate them. This went on almost daily for several weeks. One night, very late, I was awoken by some sound. I lay in bed and heard something from the porch. I hopped up and hit the lights. And I saw that hound dog who had never learned to sit or stay, standing at the front door in a perfect point position. She was shaking in fear. She never barked. I heard the door slam and footsteps down the steps. I hit the spotlight but saw nothing. I went out, hidden on the porch at my front door, maybe trying to enter. After that, I stayed in at night. More and more, the animal offerings got bigger and bigger. Larger birds. Opossum, a woodchuck. It was not funny. The final two gifts were legs from either horses or cows, big and bloody. One was skinned. Holy crap. The second to the last day the dog left me. I could hear her in the woods, howling on a trail, following a scent. I looked for her in every way I could. Came up in the following weeks, but to no avail. She left. Just as she came, I moved back to the Maryland Suburbs of D.C. got an apartment with a friend, got a job, and moved on with my life. One day, not long after, I picked up the Washington Post and there was an article about recent encounters with the Sykesville monster. It described a tall yeti like creature, fur covered on two legs, that would pick out a family or person and give them attention. I wasn't the only one. The attention described in the article was exactly what happened to me. Following you at night, looking inside the house, gifts and so on. I was shocked. If I had turned on that spotlight and seen a bigfoot or yeti, I might still be running. But I think I know who it was. Sykesville, Maryland, was the location of the Springfield Hospital Center, a large state psychiatric hospital. It was 20 miles or so east of Frederick. Back then, many folks knew how to live in the woods. They grew up that way. Country folk. I think the monster in question was an escaped patient or just a free schizophrenic who lived outside. This is just like all the homeless you now see in cities. Probably off as meds, but somehow functional and lonely. He would pick people or families to adopt. The camps in the woods could have been him. Nothing to do. He would make mischief. I think he liked me. But since I was leaving. I can't prove any of this, of course. It's just my theory. My monster was very much of that time and place. And his behavior was what I noticed in nearly every case then. I do not Think he could have survived until the 1980s? Deinstitutionalization of mental hospitals threw the mentally ill out into the streets and took away the shelter of hospitals. Unprotected, the mentally ill die. I used to deliver packages in the mail for a company in the south. A lot of the daily routes were in the hills and woods. Last year I had a route that was super deep in the country. I was pretty used to the backroads in the country. Now at this job, by this point there's some houses I stopped at where the driveway is super steep or some other crap. But for the most part everyone was always super friendly out there. Good old country folk. Well, I had a delivery that was down this long gravel street. There were only a few houses on my journey to the house that my delivery was at. Still at this point I'm totally fine. There's a ton of these types of roads out there. Well, I arrived at my destination. No mailbox, no driveway, no gravel. You can make out a little bit of a path that's been made from cars driving to the house. But I'm serious when I say a little bit. The driveway is maybe 250 yards long with the house at the end of it. I'm only sketched out because I'm in the woods and the land is super unpredictable back there. Meaning you never know when there's just a drop off. I'm in a huge box truck, so if one tire was to slip off the side, the whole thing is going down. So I'm driving literally probably less than a mile an hour. Taking my time, being extremely cautious. As I'm making this drive back to the house, I start kinda checking out my surroundings. I pass a really old broken down truck that the ground is starting to grow around again. Super common back there. No biggie. As I get further and further down the driveway, I notice that I've probably passed about four satellite dishes, like cable dishes. I start approaching the house. The house from the outside looks like it's a Walter White Season 5 style cabin. It's a shack. I park and just kinda check out my surroundings. After about a minute I was just like, okay, I'm just gonna go deliver it and leave. I walked up to the front door of this cabin thing and the front door had a large glass window in it. Not modern, think old like a cabin that was built in the late 50s with no repairs. As I set the small package down in the front door, I glanced inside the house, the main room, which would be like a living room. I'm guessing is completely empty. The only thing that is in this room is two foldable metal chairs, both unfolded, both facing a corner of the room. But nothing is in the corner. In the meantime, I'm trying to do my job with my right hand, where I keep making very quick glances inside. From what I saw, there was nothing in that house. Nothing. It was a shell. The kitchen may have had old appliances in it, but I wasn't really paying attention to that part. My sixth sense kicked in, and my brain obviously said, this isn't right. So I turn around and start walking back to my truck, maybe 30ft away. I take my hood off my head and take my hat off so I can have a full peripheral view around me. I immediately start looking to see where the closest neighbor's house is. I saw a building up the hill just a tiny bit, but it honestly looked like it was on this guy's property. I'm sure this was my head playing major tricks on me. But as I'm walking back to my truck, I just feel a presence. I feel like it's hanging onto my back and getting heavier and heavier with every single step closer to the van that I took. I jumped in my van. I locked the doors and checked the back to make sure no one was in there. Screw the driveway. I back out of this entire driveway while checking my surroundings everywhere. I make it back onto the road. As I'm driving down the road, maybe 40ft away from this dude's entrance of the driveway, there's a trash bag in the middle of the street. It's open just a little bit. I slow down, and it looks like there's a woman's sweater or something in there. Was that a kill room? Was someone or maybe even multiple people held hostage on that property? Something was definitely up. I immediately contacted my buddy and told him about it. He suggested I go back and snap a few pictures, and I agreed. About five minutes go by and I make it back to the address, and the trash bag is completely gone. At this point, I looked everywhere on the street and the side of the street. It's completely gone. But get this. I always thought about how I never know what I'm delivering or who I'm delivering to. When I first landed this job, I remember thinking how crazy it would be if someone was holding people hostage in their house, torturing them, and ordering their food and house supplies online because they were afraid of leaving the house with the kidnapped people all alone. That's all I could think about when dropping off this package. I left that job not even a week later for different reasons. But I did tell my boss and he assured me that he would contact the local police department and take that house off of our normal route schedule. I never heard anything back about it. I'm very aware that if the police went out there and found something or people, I would immediately be called in to tell them what I saw. So I'm going to assume that they went out to check it out and found nothing. But in the same sense it makes me wonder about the trash bag immediately disappearing after I left. Did they realize that they messed up and I was going to say something so they prepared for that? I don't know. I also have no clue what the address was or how to get there by memory to check it out myself, but I think about that very often and every single time I do I get chills down my spine just because of the thought of the unknown. This is an encounter my grandmother had back in early 2001. My grandma and grandpa had just moved into a very isolated cabin in the North Georgia mountains to escape the fast paced city life after they retired. The house was perched on the side of the mountain on about five acres of their property with a very long gravel driveway from the so called main road which connected the surrounding cabins. The closest house was about 1, 2 miles away as the crow flies and 3 to 4 miles by road. So yeah, definitely a low key spot that's very hard to find. Soon after they purchase the property they begin the moving process and both grandparents ended up making separate runs from their old house to the new house. One night my grandmother was alone at the new house in the mountains while my grandpa was back at the old house taking care of some final business and last minute packing. He decided to stay there for the night and avoid the two hour drive back to the new house in turn leaving my grandma alone in the middle of nowhere. She was fine with it and decided to go ahead and sleep to prepare for moving the next day. At around 1am the house was dead silent and all of a sudden there was a very loud knock at the front door. Now keep in mind you could easily hear someone if they drove up the driveway, but she never heard a car. The front door was all glass so it basically sounded like someone was banging on a window. She was terrified to say the least and she decided to stay in bed and wait it out. The knocks came again, this time even louder. At this point her adrenaline and fear is through the roof. Not knowing who could possibly be at the door this late in the Middle of the night. Once again, she stays in bed and waits it out. About 5 minutes pass and there are no more knocks. She waits even longer to maybe hear a car drive away or something, but no car ever drove off. The only way someone could have been there is if they walked several miles through the woods to get there or walked up the very long driveway. Nothing else ever happened that night and nothing ever came of it. It's still a pretty strange and creepy occurrence for such an isolated place. So me, my boyfriend, his best friend and his girlfriend drove up to Big Bear June 26th. Then a day later, another friend of ours drove up June 27 and he was supposed to sleep downstairs and couples sleep upstairs since there's only two bedrooms. The first night we stayed there it was kinda creepy because the cabin was pretty remote and of course there's absolutely no lights outside. It is in the woods with coyotes howling and bears, but nonetheless completely normal activity. On the 27th, around 12am, my boyfriend and I are in bed when suddenly our friend sleeping downstairs comes banging on the door freaking out, saying he saw shadows in the woods and also that the motion light came on and there was thumping outside. We got a little freaked out, but my boyfriend got out of bed and checked the entire cabin and even went outside. Nothing. We go up to the other couple's room where there's a porch with a sliding glass door that looks out into the woods. It's important to note that I'm naturally a very anxious and scared person while my boyfriend is a rock. He's calm and logical while I tend to jump to the worst case scenario. My boyfriend goes over to check the last place in the cabin. So he pulls the curtain and then he jumps and yells, oh my God. At this point I'm terrified. My boyfriend is a 180 pound CrossFit coach and to see a big guy like that scared is nauseating. He locked the door and backed away slowly. He then quietly says, there's a large man standing outside staring at us. He's just standing in the woods looking at us. At this point I'm thinking he's messing with me. He looks at me and says, go lock the door. That's when I knew he was serious. Everyone is freaking out at this point. I run and lock the door behind us and we all decide to stay in the room to keep an eye out. It's the middle of summer and it's really hot, but we refuse to open a window. I'm so scared, but try not to show it as everyone else seemed to have calmed down now. About 30 minutes go by and nothing happens. I get annoyed with the heat and the fact that there's five people in a tiny room and three of them are men. So my boyfriend and I go back to our room. I'm still pretty spooked, so my boyfriend tries to cheer me up. At this point it's about 1:30am I told him that I was too scared to sleep with the lights off. He tells me that's totally fine and he understands. So it just lay with the lights completely on. Finally I start drifting off to sleep when I heard a thud. I sit up and look at my boyfriend. He looks at me. Then the power cuts off. I immediately start sobbing. I'm trembling and I can't see anything because it's pitch black. I try to get out of bed and run, but my legs get tangled in the sheets and I fall. My boyfriend picks me up and we grab our phone and then run to the other room where everyone else was staying at. I'm hysterical at this point. I try to contact our host but nothing will go through. I try to call my dad, but all of our phones say no service. We're alone out there. Thank God. The friend who drove up after us had a different carrier because his phone actually had one bar. So he called the local sheriff. I realize now it's a bit of an overreaction, but at the time we thought we were gonna die. He's on the phone with the sheriff and they transfer us to the utilities company. We give the address and they actually tell us that we're too far in the woods and they don't cover that area. At this point we're wondering if the entire area has no power or if the man outside just cut our power. I cry more and we call 911 to report suspicious activity and a power outage. They send the fire department. A few hours go by. It's 3am and suddenly the power comes back on. We ended up falling asleep. And the next day we had talked to some locals of the area. We told them our power went out and he said that was strange and shouldn't have happened. He told us the only reason that happens out there is because of a snowstorm. He said he couldn't explain it. I have no idea what the hell happened, but I don't think I'm ever going to go. I just remember this encounter I had when I was about nine and I thought I would share it here. My parents usually take me and my siblings on numerous outdoor camping sites and I had great memories except for one particular outing. It was at the Poconos in Pennsylvania where there were a lot of sites we went to. However, on this trip we had rented out cabins instead of pitching tents. I was okay with it. When we were all settled in our cabin, my parents and siblings were inside chatting, planning the weekend and eating. But me being a sporty kid, I took my baseball bat and some baseballs and then went outside. In front of our cabin was a huge circle of just open grass. I threw some baseballs in the air and proceeded to hit them about 10 minutes in. A dark green car rolls up a few feet behind me to where I was standing. Mind you, there are other cabins in the area, so I thought it was just a family lost and wanted to ask where their cabin was. But when the window rolls down, it was just some middle aged guy and I remember the inside of his car was really dirty. He said, hey kid, you're not allowed to play baseball here. At this point I knew this dude was shady because he didn't drive the white pickup trucks with the campsite logo on it, so he wasn't security. Plus he had an ultra creepy smile. I just said, oh, sorry, I didn't know. But he got really creepy when he then said, yeah, there's a baseball field on top of that hill. I can take you there if you want. It'll be fun. And then he pointed at the hill and then he gave me a creepy smile and he beckoned me to get in the car. Now things got real. I gripped my aluminum bat tighter and I made a sort of scowling kind of face. He saw this and I swear he was about to open the car. That is until he heard and saw my dad laughing and coming out of the cabin talking to someone on his phone. The creepy part was that he didn't get angry. The dude just looked at me and gave me a smile with a face that said, I'll get you next time. I sprinted to my cabin and from then on clung to my parents. And I kept my baby brother and adolescent sister close to me at all times for the entire weekend. I never told any of them about the guy. Oh, and I checked the campsite map on our drive home. There was actually no baseball field on top of that hill that this creep was talking about. Instead, there was a picnic table and next to it, dense woods and a creek. My family and I went on a trip to the Hocking Hills area of southern Ohio a few weeks ago. There was a place that I always wanted to visit. The Abandoned ghost town of Moonville rail tunnel I have never been to this area, so I didn't know what to expect. But I did know that it was pretty deep in the woods. We took a trip from our rented cabin, using Google for GPS to the location. We start driving and it's for lack of better words, real impoverished where we're driving. Hills have eyes esque. We literally only see a few cars on the way there and are on back roads. We get to a point where we need to enter into a forest and we're close to the tunnel. There was a sign that said we were entering Bubba Wood for a little additional information. I drive a Mercedes that I'm just lucky to have and I have my husband in the car, a black man with dreadlocks, my 10 year old nonverbal autistic son and my 6 year old daughter. We drove down this really creepy stone road into the forest and there's nothing back there. No houses, no cars, nobody. We see signs that we're close and pull into the parking lot. There's a footbridge up ahead. We walk over the footbridge and make our way toward the tunnel, which is a lot larger than I expected. We hear this sound coming from the other side of the tunnel that goes into the woods away from the parking lot. A truck comes driving through the tunnel towards us while we're on foot. He gets out of his truck with a chainsaw and it's a white guy in his 60s. He walks with my entire family everywhere we go through the tunnel. I tried to make small talk with him and pull some info about if he worked for the Department of Natural Resources, etc. He really wasn't budging. We turn around to walk out of the tunnel and he starts using a chainsaw behind us and the sound is just really echoing through this tunnel. At this point we have no cell phone service and literally no one knows my family is out there except us. I was already worried my car was sending the wrong idea to people. Like we have money or something. We don't, FYI. We rush to the car to get the kids in their booster seats and this weirdo comes driving over the footbridge and his truck towards us in the parking lot. I honestly don't even know how his truck fits on it. He stops again and gets out of his truck and starts walking the other direction, much to our relief. About this time I noticed that there were dusty handprints on my car. I asked my husband if they were his and he compared his hand and my son's and they were not a match. I don't know who could have touched the car because we were with the chainsaw man the entire time we were there. We got out of there as fast as possible. Just a few minutes later, I looked in my rearview mirror and there's a bunch of dust kicked up behind us. And there he is. He had to have driven pretty fast on the stone road to catch up to us like that. There's nowhere to go in these woods. The road is basically one lane, and we have no cell service or gps. Every time I think we lose him, he's there again. I'm waiting for my tires to get popped or something, or for this guy to ram me off the road into a ravine in the woods. Finally, we get out of these woods and I turn out and he's still following us. We were following printed directions to get back, and I ended up making a wrong turn. In the excitement, the guy on the truck was finally gone, and I turned around to go past the stone road that goes into the forest. There is one lone house near this road, and there's his truck parked there. He had to have seen us drive under this road into the woods and taking some back way to the tunnel. I don't know if he was trying to protect the site from more graffiti or what, but he really creeped us out. It was like every scary movie trope rolled into one single event.