"This happened to myself and a close friend (both 23 y.o. males) just last month.
We decided to go on a two-night backpacking/camping trip in the Adirondack Mountains of New York. We are both very comfortable with nature, and spend a lot of time camping, hunting, fishing, etc.
We hiked about 5 miles into a small lake and set up camp on a small beach. This was not a heavily trafficked area, and we did not expect to run into anyone. Our first night there as we were sitting around the fire, we saw a flashlight moving on the other side of the lake around 10:30. This was fairly unusual, however, we did not think too much of it.
But, as time went on, this flashlight kept moving around the lake getting closer to our campsite. We kept discussing who could possibly be wandering around the woods in the middle of the night, and we did not particularly want an unwelcomed guest.
Once it was clear that the person (or people) were heading for our campsite, we moved off into the woods nearby to see who wandered up. I took a small ax with me, and he had a .22. Now we weren't expecting trouble, and we certainly didn't want to make any, but we figured we might as well cover our bases.
Now, the moment of truth, the flashlight comes near the light of our fire and it is one man. He has a beard and is probably in his mid-40s. The scary part was he was carrying what turned out to be a pump action weapon. He walked around the campsite a few times and then proceeded to enter our tent. After rummaging around for a minute or so, he came out and started yelling 'I know you're out there, why don't you come and say hello?'
My friend and I remained motionless under a hemlock tree about 50 yards away. That is when the man proceeded to fire his weapon into the woods (not too far from where we were). He also swung his flashlight around several times. After what felt like hours, he grabbed my friends backpack and a few articles of clothing we had dried off near the fire and threw them in to burn.
My friend, who had trained the .22 at the man, asked me if he should shoot. I told him absolutely not unless he spots us and starts to point the weapon in our direction. Thankfully the man moved off from where he had come after a little while. We waited until his flashlight was on the other side of the lake, ran out, grabbed everything we could fit in my pack and took off (it was now around 2 or 3 A.M.).
We RAN out the trail with flashlights and made it back to my car as the sun was coming up. We immediately went to the police department and reported it, where we also spoke with some forest rangers. That was it, I haven't heard anything back from the police. It wasn't mysterious, however, it crept the heck out of both of us."
"From May 2010 to May 2011, I worked as a security guard at a hydroelectric dam in Virginia. It was a fairly isolated location; if you needed an ambulance, you could expect at least a 20-minute wait. About a month after I was hired, one of the guys at the dam told me that most security guards out there quit after a few days because they got so creeped out being alone at the dam at night, and he was glad I was sticking it out.
In truth, it could be creepy. Sometimes at night, when I was patrolling the basement level of the dam itself, I'd think about the fact that I was fifty feet below the water-line on the low side, the only human being in about a mile and a half radius. Sometimes I'd hear weird noises in the woods, or catch a flash of a shadow while I was inside the dam. It takes a lot to scare me, though, and I knew I was either hearing critters in the woods or my mind was playing tricks on me.
One night, however, something happened that scared the living heck out of me. It was a little after 11 p.m., and I was sitting in the guard house reading a book. Suddenly, I heard a tap on the door.
What was creepy about the guard house at night was that when you had the lamp inside turned on, people could look through the windows at you, but the glare made it difficult for you to see outside.
When I heard the tap at the door, I thought it was a bug hitting the glass; it was so faint, and I knew there weren't any contractors at the dam. I had the place to myself.
Then the tap came again, more insistent this time.
I grabbed my flashlight and opened the door. There was no one there.
Then I let the door slip from my hand and shut behind me. To my left --- previously concealed by the door as I had opened it --- was a huge man, at least 400 pounds, wearing a gray sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. The sweatshirt was smeared with fresh blood.
My heart started hammering. My blood ran cold. I was so scared I couldn't speak.
As it turns out, he was a local fisherman who had been fishing off the bridge over the tailrace and he was wondering why the power company hadn't started back-pumping into the lake yet, because they usually started a little before 11 and that was what always drew in the big striped bass. He was smeared with blood because he'd already caught and gutted a couple and wiped his hands on his shirt. He felt really bad when he realized that he had approached me basically in the same way that a murderer in a horror movie would have.
I am thankful to this day that I was unarmed security, because if I'd had a weapon, I would have either shot him or accidentally shot myself while trying to shoot him."
"Lived in Germany for many years while my father was stationed there ( U. S. Army). We lived off base in private housing and I LOVED it!! That country is amazing, the vast forests, the mountains, the countryside, the farmlands, the little towns..everything.
I quickly became really good friends with some local boys whose parents owned the towns dairy farm. We were Always in the forests running around and exploring. Fishing, playing army, etc.. I was around 8 or 9 yrs old around that time (37 now).
One night, stayed late at the farm hanging with the guys. Left about 9 or 10ish, it was dark, but then moonlight gave the pretty good vision that night I remember.. I lived just across the soccer field and a small corn field from the farm. As I'm walking through the soccer field I see a bit of movement, just real quick, from the corner of my eye along the tree line at the edge of the field. I quickly step up my pace. As I turn to take my usual path through the cornfield to my house, I see at least half a dozen silhouette figures emerge from each side of the rows of corn on the sides of the path. I froze so hard! They just stand there. Then there's one behind me. Before I can snap around and haul rear, He asked, in German, where I was going.
I turn around now and what I see surprises, but relieves me also. I answered in English and told him I was heading home. He was then curious about my English. Turns out it was a team of special forces operators (I mean, these guys were decked out in so much tactical gear I couldn't comprehend how they were able to move so stealthily. Night vision goggles, packs, bags, weapons, there was even a dog. They looked like total freaking bad dudes) who were using these small towns off base to do some training. I just happened upon them this particular night. I'll never understand why they chose to break cover and show themselves. They could have easily just stayed put and I would've walked right by them none the wiser. They walked me home as it was on their way back they said. Started off creepy for me, but it was actually pretty cool. An experience I will never forget that's always stuck with me."
"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 by 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 weapon 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 to 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 weaseled in.
Luckily he survived."
"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 an 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 a panic."
"In college, I spent one month house sitting a large hunting estate in the middle of nowhere Idaho. The nearest town was 22 miles away. Woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone knocking loud and hard on the front door and the dogs were going nuts. No way I was going to answer it, I just grabbed the weapon and kept quiet upstairs. Next morning, there was a car in the driveway. The guy who owned the car was found dead several months later. I have no idea what happened...
It was June 1987, I know it was 87 because it was the baseball season after the Bill Buckner disaster. My girlfriend's parents owned the place, it was in SE Idaho.
It was a pretty big place with a lot of acreage. The guy who was the full-time caretaker of the place had just quit. My GF's dad went out there to find a new caretaker, but the new caretaker couldn't start for one month. Her dad offered to pay me $1200 to go out there. Free food, satellite TV (one of those huge dishes from back then) and free drinks. All I had to do was keep an eye on the place and feed the dogs and the horse. I had never been out West so I took him up it. It sounded better than doing landscaping.
I spent the time reading and exploring, playing with the dogs, riding the horse, shooting. Completely uneventful experience until that night. That night, after the knocking stopped and dogs stopped barking, I eventually went back to sleep. I didn't freak out all that much because there were two German shepherds inside with me and I had a weapon, I kept it on the nightstand. I had been drinking a little but not wasted by any means. There were several neighbors that were a few miles away, I was kind of thinking someone just simply drove up the wrong driveway.
Next morning at crack of dawn, I open the front door to let the dogs out and see a white Chevy Nova sitting in the driveway, it was near the small cabin for the caretaker. The cabin was about 100 yards from the main house. I called my GF's dad and asked him if he knew anyone with that make/model car and told him about what had happened the night before. He didn't know anyone and he called the police directly.
Police show up, ask me a few questions and walk around the property for about an hour or so. The car was locked, the police had it towed. I have no idea if it was broke down or not. There was only one set of tire tracks coming into the house.
A few days later, my GF's dad called me up to say the guy who owned that car was missing and to call the police if anything weird happened again. I have no idea who the guy was at all. Don't know how long he was missing or when he was reported missing. Or who reported him missing. He was just missing. GF's dad didn't know that much.
After one month, I go back home. GF and I break up shortly thereafter. I see her out on the town several months later, and I ask her if she ever found out what happened to that guy. All she knows is the guy was found dead by suicide 30 miles away. The suicide happened several months after that incident at the house, and he was found a couple of days after he had killed himself. I asked her how he did it, where he was he found, who found him, etc. etc. etc. and I got nothing. I never saw her again."
"On a 41-foot sailboat in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay, with about 7 other men, doing a shake-down/ test cruise, planned to be out for about 12 hours. Mid 1980's, not as reliable weather prediction resources. We get caught in a tropical storm, winds gusting into the 50 mph range, just this short of a weak hurricane. We had just barely rigged storm hawsers and storm sails because the one fellow onboard who was the best sailor sensed the storm was almost on us, otherwise we would have died. During the storm itself, I expected to die at any time. In fact, we made a 'Securite, securite....' call on the radio (if you have time at sea you know what I'm talking about, if not, it's not that important). For what seemed like 15 minutes, we were in a maelstrom, no visibility, but then it passed. We would live!
This was at about 3 pm, and although there was cloud cover, of course, the ambient light was such that you could see 2 miles or so in any direction.
If you're familiar with the sea, you know that such storms, particularly in shallower depths near land masses, dredge a lot of things off the sea floor.
We're all on deck, working lines, checking the damage, etc. and the bay around us is choppy and churning and foaming. Old-timey sailors often used the saying 'the sea is confused.' I look about 15 feet of the starboard side and something swims to the surface, breaks the surface, look at us, then submerges again.
It was a thin man, with a humanoid shape, arms articulated like a man, a human head, but its skin was covered in scales like a snake. It looked at us, blinked its weird, heavy-lidded eyes, then dove back under.
So maybe you need to know a few things about me at that moment. No substances, no drinking, no injuries. I was elated because I was glad to be alive, but my senses in that situation were sharpened, not dulled. I had, at that time, about 6 years experience on ships and fishing boats, and had seen squid, octopi, flying fish, sharks, skates, etc. all around the world. I was not the type of guy to see a patch of seaweed and call it a sea monster.
I made an instant decision that I was not going to say anything. What could I say? 'I just saw a strange creature, take my word for it!' The men on this boat were all mechanics and engineers and professionals. Why get a reputation as a flake? At the time it was important for each of us to get 'D''skipper or OOD qualifications, and saying something like that would be frowned upon.
And as I stood there in my life vest, soaking wet, hooked onto the steel lifeline, glad to be alive, one of the other sailors, a USN Captain, with over 30 years experience in the surface navy, piped up and said,
'I just saw a brown thing pop up on the surface! It looked like a lizard man, with a scaley face. It blinked at us with these big eyes and then went back under!'
'Yeah, I saw it too,' I said. No one else said that they had seen it.
Then we sailed back to the pier later that day and didn't speak of it again."
"Some friends and I would take my truck up in the mountains during the winter time and tow someone on a tube across the snow. We'd drop the tailgate on 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 a 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 about 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 treeline, there was a picnic table. The table was very odd, however. It was painted a 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 heck 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 leaped 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 madman, 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 were 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."
"Happened in High School. I was at a summer camp that separated boys from the girls. We would normally sleep in separate cabins, however, this being a nice night, our counselors decided it would be nice to camp outside. Being overly testosteroned high schoolers given new freedom of the outdoors, we decided to separate from our supervision and beeline for the girl's campsite. Upon successfully reaching their site and being dumbfounded at what to do, we decided that throwing miscellaneous items into the fire, creating subsequent explosions would be a good icebreaker. Unfortunately, due to our brilliance, we were quickly brought back to our camp and separated from the girls.
Not being discouraged we decided to regroup and try again. As we began to leave for their site again we heard an extremely loud bang, as if from a high caliber rifle. The sound was followed by another bang. Followed by silence. We all became paralyzed unsure what to do. Was it from the girl's site? We were too afraid to find out. We could see a flashlight in the distance mulling around the area. I only remember lying quietly, barely able to sleep, joking with fellow campers who would get shot first if that bang was indeed from a weapon.
The next morning we woke up, alive and very confused about what had happened. I actually only found out what had happened when I got home from camp. A man had shot his ex at a house right by the campsite we were staying that night. What stood out to me the most, other than aforementioned, was an interview with a neighbor who didn't call the police right away because she figured the sound was from some stupid kids blowing up things at a campsite."
"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 kilometers 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 everyday, 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 kilometers over the hills to find a spot devoid of light pollution from town, shut off the machine, and settled in to 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 outer door as quietly as possible, remove winter gear, enter 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 the 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 11:00pm when I left, and now it was creeping up on 6:00am. 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."
"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 and go joy-sailing late at night on the Chesapeake Bay for kicks.
My main sail tears and my atomic 4 engine breaks down. I drift out of the channel, drop anchor, plug in my backup 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 fiberglass hull. I eventually got back to sleep and made it back to the docks 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."
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