Creepy Man at campfire

So this happened a couple of months ago, during January I think it was. My friends and I all decided to go camping in this forest that was pretty far from where any of us lived.

We all had credit in our phones though in case we needed to call our parents, anyway as all of us gathered around the camp fire we started to do usual campfire activities like singing or telling scary stories.

My friend picked up his ukalele and just before he started to sing we heard a loud sound coming from behind us. It sounded like a twig snap, I called out to see if anyone was out there but there was no response. I’ve always been a very cautious person so I got up and began walking over to where the noise came from.

There was nothing there. I was about to turn back around and go back to my friends, then I heard someone whispering “hey” they said “hey you, over here” the person sounded like a male with a rather I pitch voice.

He began to laugh.

I’ll never forget that laugh. It’s giving me chills now just thinking about it.

I decided to simply walk back to my friends and calmly explain to them what happened, and luckily enough they believed me. As my friends were packing up our stuff I decided to call my dad and ask him to come and pick us up. I just thank God I haven’t seen or heard about that man since, and hopefully I never will again.

The Man in the Harlequin Mask

This happened maybe two years ago.

I live in Massachusetts and I enjoy an activity called Live Action Roleplaying. If you’re not familiar with it, imagine spending a weekend immersed in a made-up universe, playing a character you invented. It’s like long term improv or theater if you think about it. It’s really just amazing.

The place I go to is a medieval fantasy themed universe. That being said, we were in the forest with no electronics and the only lights came from candles or the two large campfires which were on opposite sides of the grounds. At that time, I played a noble who had a lot of functions in game.

Generally, I wore a fancy dark green dress laced with a trace of gold around the sleeves and the large hood it bore.

There was one evening that was actually very confusing and thinking about it gives me chills.

So, one night, the people who animated the event had decided to make a masked ball. I had brought with me a beautiful dark green lace mask ornated with gold that matched my dress. I had bought it in venice when I had the chance to have a student exchange in Italy. I had never worn it until that night.

It was a very cloudy night, so we couldn’t see the moon or the stars. Needless to say it was very dark.

Everyone gathered around the campfire and the animators started the music (since they orhcestrated the whole event, sometimes, they would use soundboxes and such to make events more immersive) and it was a three-stroke waltz.

At that time, I had absolutely no idea how to dance to a three-stroke waltz, even if it is the easiest dance in the world.

One of my friends had given me a bit of prior training as we were putting our costumes on; everyone had brought a fancier outfit for that night, because usually, since there were many battles and such, people dressed very much like medieval peasants, depending on what style they went for. Since I was a noble woman, I always dressed a little fancier. I didn’t change for that evening, because it wasn’t necessary.

Everyone paired up and I watched, sitting by the fire, mesmerized at how amazing it looked to see people dancing.

Soon enough, a man approached me.

He was wearing a full mask and I didn’t recognize his build. He was neither a player nor was he one of the animators. I know these people; most of them, I went to college with. Him, though, I didn’t know at all.

I brushed it off and figured it was a new player that could only make it to the event that evening.

“Would you care to dance with me?” He asked me in a deep voice. He was holding a hand out to me, waiting for me to grab it.

“I’m not really good at dancing.” I say, a little intimidated.

I was a bit creeped out by his mask, although it was very nice looking.

A full-face harlequin mask; it was black and burgundy with a diamond shaped pattern layered all over it, separated by lines of gold.

Now, usually, in La Commedia Dell’arte, Harlequin’s mask is brown and his clothes have red, green and gold triangular or diamond shaped patterns all over, but I still recognized the character’s mask from the mischevious expression plastered onto it.

“Just follow my lead. After all, in a waltz, the man leads the dance.”

I finally agree on sharing one dance with him. It was rather enjoyable, since he took his time to show me where to put my hands and how to move my feet. He even encouraged me to relax.

Throughout the whole thing, I had no idea who’s voice it was. It really bugged me. Everything about him seemed bizarre. Unusual.

He kept suggesting we should go take a walk in the forest, further away from the crowd, but every time, I refused. It was dark in the forest and I didn’t know him and my character was known to be scared of the dark, even if I, as a person, don’t mind it at all. Still, since I didn’t know him, even I, Melody, the real person behind the character, wouldn’t have followed him. Something didn’t feel right.

When the waltz ended, I thanked him, he bowed at me and walked into the crowd of people who had started chatting.

I figured I’d try and find him later in the evening. I always like roleplaying with all sorts of people. It’s fun.

But I never found him.

The evening went on and there was no trace of him anywhere. I asked around and none of the other players said it.

I even described his mask exactly and no one recalled having seen such a mask.

For the sake of the evening, I brushed it off, joking that I had danced with a ghost.

Fast-forward to the end of the weekend. Everyone was packing up what was on the grounds and we were all chatting, so I asked.

“Who did I dance with, saturday night?”

No one spoke up.

Everyone looked at one another, rather dumbfounded.

“Was there a late arrival?” I asked the animators.

They all told me there couldn’t have been a player who would have arrived that evening because all the animators were in game; they weren’t at their spot where they put their costumes on and such; all of them were with the players, in character. Absolutely no one was out-game.

That suddenly chilled me even more than it did earlier.

My mind suddenly traced back to that night. How he had kept suggesting to go for a walk in the forest where there wasn’t anybody so we could talk…

I kept getting these bizarre vibes from him, but at the time, I just figured it was the excitement. I loved the idea of a masked ball.

But what if he was a man with intentions I don’t want to think about?

I’m so grateful for the fact I refused to follow him. I can’t begin to imagine what could have happened.

Maybe he was a good guy, but there was a chance he wasn’t. And I’d rather not find out which it is.

Nanny’s Campfire Story

Once when I was young, my grandma, who I called Nanny, told my friends a creepy story one dark July night. It was a story she said her neighbor, and one of my friend’s moms, had told her and she claimed it to be true. Real quick, to give you an idea of how close this neighborhood was in my childhood I’ll give a brief layout. My dad’s parents lived in a dumbbell shaped cul-de-sac in my extremely tiny hometown. All the houses are set up a few feet apart lining the entire road and we all greeted each other by name. It was that kind of town. There were no strangers in my Kentucky place of birth growing up which is why this tale was, and still is, so chilling.

I was 7 or 8 back in the mid nineties and part of the last few generations to remember a time before home computers and cell phones were a staple. Swimming, biking, and telling scary stories on my Nanny’s front porch under the eerie glow of an orange street lamp was some of our favorite things to do when I visited. This was one I never forgot. After begging her to tell us another, Nanny obliged lighting up a cigarette. She exhaled and said: Rosie told me something weird the other day. She told me she was up late one night watching TV in the living room when she heard a knock at the door. It was about midnight or somewhere in there, so she went to the door thinking one of us might be in trouble.

Just for reference, most of these houses had French doors with decorative glass panes you could semi-see out of and another glass or screen door on the outside. Back to the story.:

Rosie said when she came to the door, she was surprised to see someone she didn’t recognize waiting on the other side and cautiously opened the front door leaving the screen door locked. She described the caller as a young, petite woman with pale skin and long, black hair that covered her face. The woman was standing on her front step bare foot, in a white gown, her head bowed so her hair covered her entire face, and her hands clasped at her stomach with upturned palms. (Picture a child being scolded and standing in shame. I personally imagine a taller Sumara from The Ring.)

Then, my Nanny demonstrated the posture which made the story all the more chilling.
We were all silent at this point waiting nervously for her to continue as she paused to take a drag from her cancer stick. She picked back up saying: Rosie said she opened the door and asked the girl if she needed help to which the girl only replied in a flat, emotionless voice, “May I come in and use your phone?” To Rosie, there were several things wrong with this picture. First, the stranger wanted access to her home with no explanation other than to use her phone. The girl seemingly came out of nowhere, she was in a nightgown alone in the late hours of night, and she said “may I” instead of “can I”. We lived in the South on the border of Tennessee; you didn’t say “may I”.

Rosie was NOT about to let this woman into her house, but she didn’t want to leave her alone in case she really did need help. So, she tried to learn more about her situation by asking questions like “What’s wrong? Are you lost or hurt?” But, the girl only answered in the same flat tone, “I need to come into your house. Please let me use your phone.” Never once did the stranger look up or offer to move in any way.

Again, she asked, “Do you need to call a ride? Or the police?” but she was met with the same response of, “No. I need to come inside your house.” Finally, Rosie told her she can’t come in but she could hand her the house phone to call someone. Now, my Nanny’s friend had a table against the wall wherr her phone sat, so all she had to do was turn around for a split second. However, when she turned back to the door the girl was gone. She had vanished as if she had never been there at all. Nanny said Rosie checked outside and found no one. There was nowhere for someone to go! The cul-de-sac had one road in and out on the other side, it was surrounded by sparse woods on Rosie’s side and thick woods on Nanny’s side, and a short drop-off with a little creek to the right ending the neighborhood. In other words, she would have heard even bare feet running no matter which direction she went.

As Nanny put out her smoke, we girls, three in total, asked if it was true and she shrugged saying she didn’t see a reason her friend would lie about it. My grandma was the kind to pull your leg every now and then but she always admitted to it since lying wasn’t in her Christian nature. She never once admitted to this one being a tall tale. That night, we had a sleepover in her living room and I watched that damn door all night waiting for a strange black haired girl to knock. It never happened, of course, yet I’ve often wondered who or WHAT she was and what she really wanted. Was she a ghost, a demon, a vampire, a black-eyed person, a skinwalker, or a real person with bad intentions? One thing’s for sure. To this day, I wait for the night she knocks on my door – real or not.

Rural field

This story happened when I was around ten or eleven and my parents were divorced. My dad had a full six weeks with my younger brother and I for the summer and we were really excited to spend time with him. Naturally he still had to work for those whole six weeks but while he had us he also was letting my oldest sister and her roommate/friend stay with him during the summer until school started again and they headed off to college.

This way he had a couple of guaranteed babysitters while he worked very late nights at his job which was over an hour away. My brother and i loved it. Our sister was caring but laid-back and her friend was super nice and easy-going with us two little kids. It was a great summer.

Of course there was that one incident.

My dad lived in a very rural town in Indiana. When I say rural I mean very rural. It wasn’t the boonies or anything but it was very much in the middle of nowhere. If you try to drive to this town you will face nothing but miles and miles of fields and corn until you suddenly hit this town that appeared out of nowhere.

Don’t get me wrong I miss this town sometimes, it was were I went to school the first eight years of my life before the divorce and I have fond memories of the huge park and eating ice cream on the weekends as a Sunday Treat.

Yes by day this town was normal and fine but at night you would find yourself being very hesitant to go outdoors.

Back then there was no major crimes that happened at night and the worst that came from it was teen hooligans or the town’s infamous ‘Crazy Lady’ who scowled and flipped the bird at everyone but was otherwise harmless. Do you know that feeling you get when you see an area or setting at night that didn’t seem threatening at all during the day but now that it’s dark you’re having second thoughts? That was the feeling you got in the dead of night.

Now my sister was a likeable girl and she had made a few friends in town with other High School graduates. They had a couple of kids around the age of my brother and me so we could also be entertained as well. One night we were invited over to there house and my dad, who was at work, said it was okay. He was laid-back just like my sister.

Anyway, we gather in my sister’s old car and leave our middle of nowhere home to drive down an empty road at 9 at night and make out way over to the trailer park portion of the town that was absolutely surrounded by a huge grassy field.

My sister slows down to a 1 mph crawl and stops at a stop sign but doesn’t go even though we are the only ones there.

I love my sister and she has really matured in her later years but back then she was also a bit of a jerk. We were the younger siblings and how could she resist giving us a scare?

“That’s pretty creepy right?” She asks us in the backseat while we look out into the dark field. It was very creepy. Beyond the field was a thick wooded area with God-only-Knew what hiding it. I was young and scared of everything at the time and I still had nightmares of the boogeyman hiding in my closet.

“Yeah, makes me think of all those stories about freaks and creeps hiding in cornfields.” My sister’s friend said.

I honestly couldn’t tell if she was in on it or if she was genuinely freaked out as well. Despite her age she did act like a kid at times. My sister kept the car still while we all stared out, I don’t think she really thought there was anything in the field besides your usual collection of rural animals ranging from raccoons to deer.

Her friend was still talking nervously, “I remember this one story where a girl broke down next to a field like this and then some guy-” She did not get to finish her sentence.

To this day I am not entirely sure what I say. I’m 21 now and whenever i think about it my mind conjures up shadows and not a figure. However at that time I would have told you it was definitely a man-shaped figure that suddenly popped from the field and was running towards our car! My brother and I screamed, my sister’s friend screamed, my sister yelled in surprise and floored the gas pedal.

I’m still not sure if she really saw something to or was just shocked over our reaction to a bunch of shadows and nothing.

But I knew at the time, I just knew, that I had seen something. It had the distinct head, shoulder, and arm shapes and something did come towards our car! After we were well away from that field and arrived at the house we just exited the car and didn’t mention a word to anyone. We arrived at the friends house, played games, went bowling, and had a good night well until 12:45 in the morning.

I realize this story isn’t as scary or exciting as many other submissions on this site are but at the time, for an eleven year old, it was pretty creepy shocking to see something rush out at you from the darkness in the middle of nowhere.

I never did ask my sister if she was screwing around with us or if she really did notice something. I think I’ll ask her after I submit this story. If it turns out she was just scaring us for a laugh then I’ll laugh with her and pull a good-natured ‘yeah you really got me back then.’ If she truly wasn’t trying to go that far and drove away fast because she got spooked over whatever was in that field too….

Well I just hope that no one ever got to meet that man face-to-face.


Well damn, looks like one of my stories actually made it to a video, honestly didn’t expect much since I’m not the greatest at suspense per say but he changed it up to make it a little scarier i guess. Didn’t sound much like my personality though. Anyhoot old darkness is still looking for campfire stories and i got the feeling that campfire stories should really be stories that keep you on edge while you are out at night. I got a story for that. Lot weird things call my woods home and this one is one that really worries me sometimes.

I understand that skin walkers are a common topic on this channel from what i can tell and i think that’s the creature I’m dealing with. But i could also be wrong, because if this is a skin walker it’s advanced to another level. Not only does it imitate voice. It imitates appearance. And it really wants me dead or gone.

I like to call it skinny, i think it pisses him off though. And when i say his name i say it loud because especially at night, i know he’s listening. I’ve lived here for three years now and he’s been harassing me for about a year now. And he’s good. One of the smartest things to come after me so far. And the only one that can seem to almost get in my head. He tries to lure me out not by pretending to be someone or someone in trouble like other imitators that I’ve dealt with before. He’s aware that that stuff doesn’t work on me anymore. No he tries to piss me off. He wants me to try to kill him. The problem is we both know i probably can’t.

One time he got me though, i was watching a documentary about veteran suicide. It’s a terrible topic. I’m a supporter of our armed forces, and i think it’s terrible that our government doesn’t take better care of the vets that risk everything overseas so we don’t have to. They were doing a slide show of men how had unfortunately lost the struggle with their own demons. I had to look away for a second because this one guy that appeared on the screen looked to young and happy to have gone to this dark of a place. He was mixed race from what i could tell, Athletic looking, and had a big dimpled smile on his face. When i look away, I’m suddenly looking at the same kid… outside my window. Same smile. Same build. Same uniform. One difference. Across his forehead was the word “Failure”. I instantly knew it was skinny. He wasn’t trying to imitate this kid, he was insulting him. And he finally struck a nerve. I had seen him imitate so many other things, and try so many other tactics, but this was the one that finally broke me. I was ending this creature.

I exploded out of my chair and bolted for my bedroom. Grabbed my 45 caliber handgun and proceeded to walk towards the same window the young soldier was still staring through. I got within five feet and saw that the word had changed. That now spelled out “i deserved it” after reading this, i didn’t hesitate to raise my gun and fire two shots. But i think he ducked them. Bastard is fast.
I stormed outside to try to find him but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

That’s when i hear, “gotcha” whispered into my ear and i was flung against the wall of my house. The gun flew out of my hand in the process. Broke two ribs and dislocated my right shoulder. I was a dead man. And he knew it.

Ever since the incident that lead me to buy a house by myself out in the middle of the woods happened, I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear again. Something is wrong with my head. But i did feel defeat. I fell for his trap. And now he’s going to kill me. As these thoughts passed though my brain, i passed out from the pain. And the concussion probably. Then, for some reason that i still don’t understand, i woke up. It was bright outside and i was covered in blood and in more pain than i had ever been in in my entire life. But i was alive. Why was i alive? I struggled to stand up with my right arm hanging loosely at my side. And i soon noticed the words carved into the outside wall of my house. “Next time”. Fuck skinny.

Ever since i got back from the hospital (i told the doctors i fell off of a roof) I’ve been trying to find ways to deal with, or kill a skin walker, if there is a way, or if he’s even a skin walker. He beat me. I’m usually pretty lighthearted with most of my experiences no matter how intense they are. But i just can’t with this one because if i lose to skinny again. I guess the woodsman will be signing off for good. Be careful out there. And don’t be fooled like me. There isn’t always a next time.

Woodsman signing off.

Ps, sorry darkness. I don’t know if this counts as a campfire story, but i had to talk about skinny, he may be the one to end me so i have to make his presence known. And i appreciate this platform. I’m not the best at putting my experiences to words but it’s still relieving to have a place to vent. And maybe even be heard. And if you have ANY sources or contacts pertaining to helping me kill skinny. Tell me. Going to see a witch doctor soon, the lady in the tree was my best bet but she won’t talk to me anymore. Maybe I’ll tell you about her sometime.