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Michael Clark

Scary Stories thread

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I copied a few stories, which I wrote, from the linked sacary stories thread in the first post. I will edit them a bit because when I posted them on the the other site they needed some attention.

4 of my scary stories to follow....

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In 2001 I took my Jeep on a trip. I did about 9000 miles in six weeks, from NY to Whyoming, down through the mountain states an back.

Somewhere west of Denver, along i70, I pulled off to find a place to camp. I rolled into a very small town. I believe it was just a mile long, dead end strip, With houses and stores, and cars parked here and there along side the road. At the time I didn't take particular notice of anyone or anything. It would turn out that my mind picked up a couple small details that I would remember a little while later; namely, three young guys sitting on a stoop and a tan sedan parked in front of them. They had noticed my coming and going from town.

I drove away; possibly heading up the interstate a short distance, or passing under the interstate, heading south on rough roads. In a short time I had taken a sharp left turn and, in about a hundred yards, I came to a dead end in the woods that looked to be a good spot to camp.

I turned the jeep around and started unloading some things. I just happened to be looking towards the turn I had come around; when I noticed the front two or three feet of a tan sedan poke around the corner, lurch to a stop and the back away, out of site.. I immediately put my observations from town together and knew I was in trouble. 

Thiose three guys had me pegged for a lone traveller looking for a place to spend the night and figured I might find this spot. They had pulled around the corner far enough to see my jeep. But not far enough that I or the driver saw each other

I quickly tossed my stuff in the jeep tore out of there. When I came around the corner I passed their car which they had pulled into a small turn-around. As I whizzed passed them I could see that they were In the middle of grabbing things from the car and trunk and putting on different shirts.

I cannot be 100% sure but I believe that I would not have had a good night if I didn't catch a glimpse of that bumper.

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On the same trip I went to Canyonlands NP in Utah and drove the White Rim trail; down along the Colorado river and back up along the Green River. 

As drove along the Green River, along some flats,I saw a bunch of bicyclists entering a campground. A bikers rode in, they were all greeted with lots of cheers and celebration; they must have had a long trek.

I continued on and started heading up Hardscrabble hill. Towards the top, a Cherokee was heading towards me, and as we both slowed down, to allow each other to pass, we came upon a cyclist lying on the side of the road, near his bike. He had died. He was already grayish in color, and we knew it was too late to help him. He was in his mid-40's and obviously in good shape. He had his arms articulated in a way that indicated he was trying to get his backpack around to the front of him when he died.

After talking with the Cherokee driver, we decided that he would head to the campground where the bicyclists were and I would head on to inform the ranger.

I had never seen a dead person outside of a wake, so that fairly well creeped me out.

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One night I was hunting in the Adirindack Mountains of NY. I left camp at around 3:AM to climb a Mountaint that I had scouted the previous day. It was Muzzleloading season.
 
I was about half way up when I heard a scream just like another member described.  I would further describe it as an insane wouman, being brutally murdered.
 
All bets were off at the moment regarding what were just fairy tales, myths, harpies, sirens and bogeymen; the were suddenly all real and I wished I had not found out at that moment, alone on a mountainside in the middle of the night.
 
A complete chill and shudder came through in a wave across my body. I dropped to my buckled knees.  I really thought I was done for but realised that I had to do something to defend my self. I tried to load my gun but the shaking and shuddering were too much and I could not get it loaded.  
 
Of course I was fine and was on my way in a few minutes. I was paying no attention to the voice in my head that told me I should be trying to find the woman that made that noise.
 
Over some time and after some research, the best candidate for the identity of that creature that I could find was that it was a bobcat.
 
To be sure, it sounded exactly like a woman. It was uncanny; and farghing scary as hell!

 

It sounded like this, but higher and smoother.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=y58g_nvMIRw

Edited by Michael Clark

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This is not a particularly remarkable story; but it is about my initiation into the belief that spirits linger in this world after death.

I was having dinner and drinks at the home of a friend of mine; he is an older guy. It seemed to me that he had a good buzz going. Glazed eyes,  a fixed smile, and a reluctance to make eye contact were unusual for him. He was lamenting the final days of a neighbor and friend; an old man, whom he spent a lot of time taking care of up until his death. He was revealing some details of this experience; and it had the essence of a confession. Their was a sense of guilt that he was imparting in this conversation.

The guilt was entirely unjustified, as he could not have done much about the circumstances and final outcome. Over the next year or two I had a similar experience, caring for my father as he died from Lou Gherig's disease and dementia. For all I did to care for him there were times that I  did not do enough, and those failings bother me to this day. This is only relevant in as much as I can, now, understand this helpless guilt.

It was those kinds of failings that my friend was lamenting that night while we were eating and drinking. 

During a lull in the conversation, while he was uncharacteristically staring a thousand yards away, in a modest sized kitchen, with the glazed eyes and resigned smile, that i felt a cold space move through my own bodily space. I can't say that I got a chill; it was different. 

I looked at him and asked if he felt that; and without looking at me, and with no excitement; he said "yes".

I knew then that this spirit stays close to him; for better or for worse; and for the first time I became a believer in such things.

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I have this cooler. It's an old, ordinary  plastic cooler that I have had for a long time. It really is exceptionally ordinary except for one thing: It makes a signature creeking sound when it is opened.   
I love this cooler. I can be camping with a boatload of folks and, amidst a late-night cacophony of nonsense, I can hear, from a distance, the tell-tale creek of my cooler letting me know that someone is scavenging my stash for a beer.  
The voice of the cooler would go unnoticed to me, or at most as a minor annoyance, if it were not for a very cool night I spent camping in northwest Colorado.  
In 2001, I took my six month old Jeep on a mountain and desert state trek after being laid off with a severance package.   
I left the Teton area of Wyoming one day, passing through a sliver of Idaho and into northwest Colorado before it was time to find a place to camp.   
My map indicated a camping area, near a reservoir, up in some hills not far from the highway I was following; so I made my way there.   I looked about the place and saw nothing very interesting. 
I did come upon about 6 pelts, from what I thought might be muskrats. They were stripped clean of flesh and turned inside-out. I thought it was strange and I assumed that they might have been illegally taken and ditched to avoid approaching authorities.   
I don't know anything about furs but I could tell that they were very nice and could see how they might be valuable. Being a hunter I wanted to get them to someone who might be able to conserve or use them; but I thought better of that and kept looking for a campsite.  
It was a rather nice area,  if barren of forest and trees. I set up camp on a hill overlooking the reservoir. I was completely alone.  
Following my daily routine that I had established early in my trip, I cooked, cleaned, sat down with a six-pack and an atlas, and began to ponder my next days journey. I had no plan. 
 It became dark, I grew tired. Then a set of headlight beams started tracing around the sky as a vehicle made its way up the access road and appeared on the opposite side of the lake from me. It wound partway around the lake until it stopped after some maneuvering. I could see headlights pointing onto the water and figured out that they were unloading a boat and some gear. After a few minutes, the commotion stopped, I heard the truck doors close, and the truck started moving and began to head up my way.   
I could tell that I had been noticed, and the folks in the truck were coming to check me out. It was an uneasy couple minutes for me, alone, unarmed, no communications and my whereabouts unknown to anyone. I had considered vacating my site to an observable distance but decided to hope for the best and be the friendly traveller.  
The truck approached and the driver courteously switched from the headlights to parking lights and parked; I heard a "hello" as the occupants got out and approached.   
 There were two guys and they repeated their greeting and walked up to me. I returned the greeting and we talked for a while. 
 They heard about my trip, expressed admiration for the endeavor and explained that they were going to be fishing in the reservoir for a few hours.   
 Before moving on, one of the guys said "do you like trout". I said "absolutely" and he walked away as he said "alright" with some emphasis.
 They drove down to the boat and disembarked as I went back to my chair, thinking of my sleeping bag and camp mat. As I let myself wind down from the recent encounter I noticed a crimson glow outlining the hills and wearily wondered what I was looking at; hoping it was not any cause for interruption of my imminent snooze.  
 I tried to let my relaxed state of mind take over as I stared into the fire and failed to avoid questions as to what might be causing the glow in the sky over the hills.   
 The deep red hue had me assuming it was a fire somewhere but my mind went through a host of other options before I had to look up again. It was growing slowly and unsteadily, and I had to rule-out fire as the cause because it was so intermittent.  
 Then I noticed that it was moving in rose colored  waves and sheets. Originating strongest at the skyline the colors weakened towards the center of sky as the waves rolled and lapped up against the dark sky as if it were a sparkling black sandy beach at night at the edge of a sea of luminescent blood.  
 After a few moments I realized that I was looking at a completely red Aurora Borealis; something I did not know existed. I was dumbstruck with awe at what I was seeing. I had never seen the Northern Lights before and had imagined that I never would; but here I was watching great scarlet splashes, spokes and spikes striking at the star filled sky with unbelievable speed; revealing a perspective which confirmed the fact that all this luminous noise was occurring at a tremendous distance from my location.  
After a while, I realized that I was not breathing and my chest was tight. I was gripped by a tension that I had never experienced before, a feeling I would not have expected or imagined unless I had just met my maker. I made several attempts, as time passed, to relax, and enjoy this cosmic show as if it were produced for my entertainment. 
 My soul was clearly not convinced about the entertainment angle I was trying take on the spectacle; anxiety and tension continued to build. Before I realized it, 2 hours had passed and I may have had three sips of my beer. Suddenly I let out a Huge exhausted sigh. The brilliant show in the night sky had worn me down, exhausting me physically and emotionally from the tension and tumultuous beauty I was witnessing.  I was spent and went to bed, dismayed that I was turning my back on a phenomena that I would probably never see again. As I immediately fell into an exhausted sleep I was briefly concerned that if something should happen during the night, around my tent, I would slumber through it, oblivious until it was too late. And then I slept, deeply.  
  At some point in the night my consciousness was ever so slightly aroused by a creeking sound followed by a thump. That's all I remember from my sleep as I woke the next morning, yawning and rubbing my eyes and trying to mentally reconnect my brain to my legs and feet; I had slept very deeply.  
  In due course I was out of my tent and slowly fussing around, preparing for breakfast. I opened my cooler, and the creeking movement of the lid reminded me of the sound I heard during the night. As I was trying to get my sleepy head around the noise that seemed like a faint dream, I reached for a package in the cooler that I couldn't identify. I unpacked one freezer bag from another and realized that there were five dressed rainbow trout inside.  
  It took a few minutes to realize that I had not bought and forgotten about them. Then the previous nights puzzled pieces came together and I had a most delicious and thankful breakfast for the next three days, compliments a couple of Colorado fisherman who must have had a fantastic night fishing and enjoying the northern lights.  

Whenever I hear my cooler open up, I smile.

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