That Wasn’t My Brother’s Voice

This occurred when I was 15 and camping with my brother and his oldest son (my nephew). My brother is drawn to nature and prefers to be out in it as often as he can. My nephew on the other hand, not so much.

I love nature and also feel a close connection with it. The story starts with me and my nephew out gathering some good firewood and kindling. It was nearing dusk so the light was fading and the forest was slowly becoming cloaked in shadows. The sounds of the forest were nearly deafening. The cries of the cicada’s, the chirping of crickets, the loud hoots of a great-horned owl.

My nephew and I heard my brother calling us back to camp, we had gathered a lot of kindling and firewood and began to head in the direction of his voice. As we got closer I noticed that the voice sounded ‘off’. Like it was him, but at the same time it wasn’t him. In addition I noticed that our surroundings were unfamiliar. Something wasn’t right, and my gut told us we needed to get out of that area NOW! I dropped my firewood and placed my hand on my nephews shoulder who was still going forward. The following conversation is paraphrased as I cannot remember it word for word.

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The Jackal Man

This happened to me when I was about ten, and it has remained in the back of my mind and in my dreams for years. I honestly don’t even know what the creature was, just that he seemed particularly interest in me. Here’s the story.

When I was ten I often spent time in my bedroom, reading, setting toys up in different things, usually all in front of the window that looked out onto our front lawn. I liked keeping it open because let’s face it, I was a nosy kid. I liked watching the neighbors and even the animals like squirrels and birds go about their daily routines. It was a pretty big window, there was a screen between the glass and outside I guess to keep people from breaking in or in our case the cats from jumping outside. This particular day I was sitting in front of it, reading and every once in awhile being a little people watcher.

Then I felt something looking back.

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The Minnesota Mountain Monster

It was a cold, crisp Saturday morning in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. Birds were chirping, and the animals were scurrying about. I had begun to pack up for a hiking trip with my friend Preston. I had gone inside my cabin to grab my water bottles and pack them up. Preston had been outside in the SUV, waiting for me.

“So, tell me again, where are we going?” Preston had asked. He has gone hiking before, but to his own spot, he hadnt really gone anywhere else.

“Eagle Mountain.” I had replied. Eagle Mountain was a three and a half hour drive from Grand Rapids. We were going to camp at the base of the mountain and begin the hike the next morning.

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The berokdarr

My youth was… well rough to say the least.  I wasn’t very popular in elementary school, and this was before everyone segregated off into their own little cliques. You know goths, band geeks, sports jocks, the tropes to which we all inadvertently adhere to, sometime in middle school. Anyways, I wasn’t popular before that scene at hit our prepubescent bodies. My only friend was Wesley.

Wesley was like me, sort of. We shared similar interests. He liked Star Wars, I liked Star Wars. He collected Digimon cards, and I collected Digimon cards. The only true difference between Wesley and myself was that he got along with the other kids in our school, in fact he was one of the most popular little kids I’ve ever seen in my life. So I really couldn’t fathom why he wanted to be friends with the one kid in school no one really liked.

I can’t say I over thought it much. Seeing Wesley at school was always the highlight of my day, and believe it or not I actually looked forward to school. You see my home life wasn’t the greatest. My dad bailed on us, or so my mother always told me.

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Something in the blue Mountains

This is a fairly recent experience that has really effected since it happened.

For some background and location layout, I’m a 21 year old from Australia and though I’ve always been intrigued by the paranormal, though I’ve never been sensitive to it or easily paranoid or scared. This occurrence happened a month ago as I was returning from a wedding along the central coast which is 2 or so hours north of Sydney and I live just west of the blue mountains, a mountainous region west of Sydney and really a rather beautiful place. There’s a pretty direct highway that connects my hometown to where I was attending this event so it is a pretty straight forward drive on any other day that I’ve done countless time before.

On this particular night, I was driving home alone from a long day as I had work the next morning. It was 1am by the time I had gotten halfway through my drive in Sydney and due to an accident earlier in the day, my route was redirected to a side road I was very unfamiliar with but I thought nothing of it. As I was driving with the windows down and the music blasting I noticed my car was getting very hot, very fast. Granted, it was a hot day on the coast where I was but I thought it would be best to pull over and let it cool.

As I stopped the car and got out to stretch my legs, I was admiring the beautiful night view I had of Sydney behind me when I got this very uneasy feeling… its difficult to explain really but I had suddenly felt so unsafe and unwelcome where I was. I tried to brush it off, checked my radiator incase it was leaking or needed refilling and got back in the car to continue my drive home. I had gotten only 40 or so minutes further in my drive when this huge amount of smoke started coming from my bonnet, I pulled over straight away, popped the hood and after the smoke had cleared I noticed something leaking underneath the car. I know that the car was fine when I had left the wedding, I’m very careful about making sure everything is as it needs to be for a long drive so this was very unexpected. I didn’t know what to do, I was panicking and needed help but I hadn’t seen another car since leaving the city. Amongst my worry, that feeling of unease comeback like a ton of bricks. I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t feel safe but I couldn’t keep driving.

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My Grandpa’s experience on the mountain

Let me start off by saying this is not my story. It’s my grandfather’s,he told me this story at a family reunion about a year ago when I was 19.(Names are changed for privacy reasons)
It happened about 30 years ago.
[He looked somberly at his climbing pick] Did I ever tell you this story?
[I shake my head] Well, like I said, it happened 30 years ago when I was still a mountain climber. I was with a couple of friends in Montana. We had been hiking up a mountain for a couple days.
[He smiles] We heard noises a couple of nights before and found a dead deer. We brushed it off,that was our worst mistake. We continued through the misty hills.
[My grandpa looked down at the floor and got up to grab a drink] “Are you ok?” I asked my grandpa.
“Yeah.” He said
[We both sat down] Any way my friend Alexander fell that day and shattered his leg.
God….The blood was every where.
[He took a large sip of the alcohol in his cup] We made a makeshift splint and decided to camp where we were. That night we sat on logs near the bright fire. Alex was asleep with his leg propped up. The night was cold and silent.
“Karl do you….Do you see that.” Alex said weakly pointing to behind. We all sat in silence. We all were generally quite breathers but we heard heavy raspy breathing from the tree line.
“What the fuck is that!” Markus the youngest of our squad shouted grabbing his rifle aiming it to the trees. We stood up, “Hey leave now!” Karl shouted into the forest. The thing came into the dim light of the fire. It was ten feet tall, with a raven like head and black fur or feathers, I don’t fucking know what it was.
Thats when Markus opened fire at that fucking monster. It let out a horrible screech that echoed through out the forest. I ran off with it’s claws scrapping the trees.
“What the hell was that!” I said horrified as the screeching was still audible. We got no sleep that night. That day we used the satellite phone to call for help.
We told no one about that fucking thing. Not even your parents.
[He stood up and got more alcohol] “Just remember one thing Rick, Never go to those cursed mountains.” My grandfather said. I stood in silence. “Never go to those fucking woods.”

The Thing that lived on my families farm

This story happened about three years ago when I was thirteen in Michigan.
The night was warm and humid. I was in my Aunts farm house, reading in the guest room when my Uncle yelled
“Ricky get down here!”
I rushed down the stairs to see my uncle in the door way.
“Wha.. What happened?” I asked. He pointed to a gutted chicken with no head.
“Oh god.” I said nearly vomiting, “What did that?” My uncle shrugged.
“This has been happening for some time now.” My aunt said from behind, “Just don’t tell Edie.”
I nodded. My Aunt cleaned up the dead chicken and I returned to my room, when I reached the room I noticed out the window something white go into the forest.
“What is that.” I whispered to my self squinting, trying to see what slinked off to the forest.
Later that night I woke up with a tried mouth. I walked down stairs to the kitchen and grabbed a cup. Suddenly the motion activated light outside the garage.
“Dang raccoons.” I said to myself knowing every one was asleep. I saw what looked like the reflection of eyes. What happened next will forever scar me. A tall lanky creature came out of the forest, it was white, thin, with a lizard like head and claws. I was frozen with fear. Then that thing looked at me dead in the eyes. That thing was headed toward the chicken coop. I then heard a chicken screaming (thats what it sounded like) and then a loud crack. I thought about screaming but I thought that my aunt or uncle wouldn’t believe me. The thing came back with a dead, gutted chicken, It smeared blood on the door and dropped the body. The moon shined through bright enough to see that the thing had horns like a deer. I ducked down and heard the thing slowly walk off to the forest. I got no sleep that night.
About a year ago I told my uncle and he said that the thing I saw lived in the forest near the farm doing the ‘ritual’ almost every day. It seemed it was doing that to assert dominance.

Me vs. La Llorona

I was told this story by some BMX buddies who live in Texas. I went down with a friend of mine named Billy. Billy is a real macho guy. He’s at least 6 1/2 feet tall and almost 260 pounds of cement. When we were spending time with 3 bikers (we’ll call them Wheels, Spokes, and Motor), they casually asked us “Have you seen La Llorona?” Billy was blank-faced, but I heard them loud and clear. For those who don’t know, the legend states that La Llorona was a young and pretty woman who had 2 kids after her husband got her pregnant, then skipped town. She wanted to marry some rich dude, but he was not going for it because she had kids. Therefore, she stabbed her kids, then drowned them in the river. After her grave misdeed, she went to her lover’s house. When he saw the blood on the gown, he immediately rejected her. She ran back to the Rio Grande, desperate to save her kids, but I’m sure you can guess where the flawed logic is. Now, she’s doomed to spend eternity, roaming the banks of the river with a horse head as punishment. When I told Billy, he laughed.

The next night, me, along with the other 4 all walked to the Rio Grande. There was no moon, so we had flashlights, and Spokes had a LED lantern that was quite bright. As we walked, we suddenly heard a small splash. “A fish” Wheels said, trying to convince himself as much as us. “Just a fish.” We continued to walk, but Spokes (who was the youngest at only 15) got spooked and booked it for home. Motor laughed, but stopped after only 4 seconds. She was standing still and staring straight ahead. I was about to ask her what was going on, when her flashlight suddenly went out. Now, it was impossible to see what she had been staring at. “Okay” Billy said. “I’ve had enough; let’s go.”

The next night, I was determined to see if I could substantiate anything about this chick. I convinced Spokes to come with me and promised to protect him if anything happened. He told me about the version his mother told him concerning La Llorona. He told me if you say “I have your kids” she’ll come and look. When she sees you’re lying, what she does is really anybody’s guess. I went off ahead of Spokes and jokingly said “Llorona, I have your kids.” After I said that, Spokes screamed bloody murder and ran right into me. I was about to scold him, when I happened to look above his head and saw a woman with a horse head, and she was walking toward us. I was frozen in fear, and Spokes was hiding behind me, saying prayers. I took my flashlight and flung it at her. Without seeing if it connected, I grabbed Spokes, shone his lantern in front of us and ran for our lives. After about 10 feet, Spokes finally started moving and running unassisted. When we got to my car, we dove head-first inside, locked the doors and hid under the backseat. We heard someone knock on the window, but were too scared to look. We kept hearing the knocking getting more and more insistent. I told Spokes “Whatever you hear, stay down and don’t speak a word.” He had been sobbing by that point, but immediately stopped after I said that. I cautiously looked up and saw Wheels holding a flashlight. I opened the door and he said “Aren’t you 2 too old for hide-and-seek?” I told him I saw La Llorona, and fully expected him to say I was lying. Instead, he just nodded and said “You must’ve said you had her babies. Not smart, dude.” He drove me and Spokes back to his house and told his parents what happened. They both told us it was very stupid. I haven’t been to Texas since.

The White Man and Grey DogNarrated! 


I have many skeptical friends who NEVER trust me when I bring up stories, but I think a camping trip a few years back might’ve changed the minds of a few. I was taking a trip with 11 friends. 12 of us total. 10 of them were skeptics about ghosts, monsters, Bigfoot, and all those other things. My BFF and I were the only firm believers. We stayed up until about midnight telling ghost stories while eating marshmallows and hot dogs. At 11:13 P.M. (according to my friend’s watch) my eyes did something that they do often. They happened to turn to an area with me remembering my dad’s advice to keep an eye on my surroundings. As I was telling a story about the Molly Maguires, I stopped mid-sentence when I saw a grey figure on what looked like 4 legs just standing still in a clearing about 100 feet away. One of my friends said “And the man was . . .” “I lost my train of thought” I lied.

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