Cabin in the woods

 There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction untill he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seamed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter floped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.

As he looked around inside the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, there features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, the hunter awoke --- he turned, blinking in the unexpected sunlight.  Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

VIA 9GAG.COM

Meeting the Neighbors

 The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in reds and purples. I was sitting on my back deck looking out of the rolling mountains of NorthEast Georgia with only my two ridgeback hounds Thor and Odin for company. The air still held a chill in early March and I had a fire burning in the pit as I sat sipping a Jack and Coke while enjoying a smoke. The radio was playing softly in the house with the mellow streams of old jazz drifting on the air. The dogs had been out earlier and were content to lay at my feet sleeping as we enjoyed our home. About twenty minutes had passed and the sky had darkened into night and I had slipped into a contented lull of drowsiness when the dogs leapt to their feet. The sound of their warning barks filled the air as they shot off the deck and down into the darkness on the other side of the fire which was still burning strong.  I could hear their growling then the flat thud of flesh being struck and the yelp of pain as one of them was hurt and I jumped to my feet and looked into the darkness, seeing nothing, 

I might not be able to see anything but something had slapped one of my dogs hard enough to hurt it, perhaps seriously. I was sober now, the adrenaline was coursing through my system and it had burned through my buzz. I raced towards the sliding door, its glass reflecting distorted images of the fire pit as well as myself. The wooden decking bouncing dully under my feet.  The glass door rattled in its frame as I slammed it open and raced to my gun rack. I returned moments later with a flashlight mounted old production Bushmaster chambered in .300 blackout and my .454 Casull chambered Ruger Blackhawk riding on my thigh. I called sharply to the dogs once more, trying to get them back in the relative safety of the house. I heard one of them growling around 20 yards from the fire pit and when I stared into the darkness behind the fire pit I thought I saw large eyes staring back in a rage from beyond it. Keeping the gun trained on the fire pit I drew over to the sounds of the dog and found Thor standing over the fallen body of Odin. He was scared, you could read it in his body language but he was determined to defend his litter mate to the end. 

I moved over to them on a run. My eyes swept the darkness in vain but then I turned as I heard something behind me but even as I did I knew I was far too late and far too slow. A giant, misshapen hand reached out and grabbed the rifle by the barrel and wrenched it from my hand.  It was so strong that I didn’t have time to release it as it was just ripped from my hands. I like to think I backpedaled out of harm’s way but in reality I stumbled and it was blind luck that took me out of the path of the rifle that was now whistling through the air like a cave man’s club. I drew the pistol at my side and triggered three rounds into the large mass looming above me.Three shots that sounded like one clap of man made thunder deafened me. Then a sound carried above the shots. The air was filled with a howl somewhere between a bull ape’s and a demon from the deepest pits of hell.

 I didn’t think there was any way I could have missed but either I did or this thing had just absorbed three rounds of .454 Casull, almost twice as powerful as a .44 magnum and all I had managed to do was make him mad. He growled deep but it sounded as if maybe I had struck something vital afterall and then it was gone. There was no more noise or stumbling. It was there one second and gone the next. I shook my head in disbelief. If it weren’t for the demolished rifle and the dog fighting for its life I would think I had imagined the entire thing. I scooped up Odin and called Thor to me and we retreated into the house and straight through to the front drive and my F250 pickup. I laid Odin in the front seat and secured Thor in their carrier in the back and called their vet on the way into town. I just told him something had attacked Odin and he was in rough shape. I pulled into the Vet’s office and he met me to get Odin in an exam room. I had him board Thor as well and paid him for the early start and left to find a hotel as this was really starting to get to me. I was suddenly bone tired and I needed sleep. I pulled into the lot of the Holiday Inn and booked a room for 2 days so I could sleep through check out and fell across the bed.

Everything worked out ok. Odin lived through his ordeal and I found a blood trail next to the busted rifle but I was neither brave nor dumb enoigh to follow it into the woods. We settled into a watchful wait as the summer dragged on. This was the first but certainly not the last of my encounters with the strange beasts that lived near my home but they weren’t going to run me off. That was twenty six years ago and we established an uneasy truce along the way. 

Submitted by 

Kit Reader

https://twitter.com/Keith53707199?t=uqkgvUpMcw7bnbp_Xp-sDQ&s=09

Prairie Man

 Prairie Man

By:Justin Jackson

The sun slowly drew back its reach, leaving behind a calm grey air upon the grassland. Prairie dogs yelped and scurried away as a man on horseback slowed to a stop. He noticed a carriage up ahead, with a fellow outside emptying his bladder and a lady inside patiently waiting to keep moving. The horseman pulled out his medicine bag, carefully concealing his wheel gun with all of his medicine and herbs. He slowly approached the unaware gentleman from behind, startling him by readying the pistol’s hammer. “Everything on you and anything valuable in the carriage please.” The medicine man had done this many times before, now it almost felt like a dance to him. The carriage driver emptied his pockets in frustration, arguing that the couple had spent all their money in town. The medicine man thought for a moment, looking at his medicine bag. “Need some medicine? Up for a trade?” The man shook his head, not knowing what more this stranger needed of him.

BANG!

The man cried out in pain, holding his knee as he fell to the ground. The medicine man laughed heartily, ignoring the woman who now screamed in the carriage, moving fearfully in a doomed attempt to avoid him as he barged in. Her jewelry and her handbag were quickly snatched away, the only trace left of the medicine man was some bandages and alcohol for the man he shot. Stories like this began to blow around like tumbleweed, stories of a highwayman who disguised himself as a traveling doctor. The man was James Sleater, and this is howhe was never found again.

Sleater rode through the fog and quiet evening, scanning the hills for carriage lights. His eyes met with a curious bouncing light in the distance, and so he rode with determination like a moth to a flame. The fog quickly separated to reveal a small native woman, struggling to carry a large candle-lit lantern. “You shouldn’t be here.” The womanspoke feebly and with terror in her throat. Sleater frowned and pushed past her, riding further up the hill and deeper into the fog. The air grew cold, and the fog seemed to thicken with each passing foot. Still the highwayman rode, his horse neighing and whinnying with each call and kick to go faster. Soon enough, his horse made a strange sound, like a man grunting. With each further step his horse grew more vocal, now coughing and clearing his throat. The highwayman began to feel afraid. He got off his horse to give him some food, only to find two human eyes staring at him in place of his horse's eyes. Sleater was shocked but further horrified at the intensity and sentience the eyes carried with their stare. Again the horse cleared its throat, parting its lips as if it were about to speak. The highwayman felt the last shred of sanity leave him as his boots took to the dirt, carrying him off into the fog screaming. That was the last anyone ever saw or heard of the Highwayman, however, some say if you find yourself in the prairie at the right weather and in the wrong wind, you may see an odd horse scanning

the prairie with its humanlike eyes for another victim to rob.

For more of Justin's scary short stories check out his New book. Quick and Scary available on Amazon at the link below. 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09M7SM4M3/ref=cm_sw_r_apan_V5DHY2467221DM6Y0QGX

Fur Baby

 

Our Fur Baby is Protecting us from the Grave

We recently lost our baby girl, Missy. She was a special kitty. She lived with me for ten amazing years after I adopted her from the shelter. Her old owner had passed suddenly in the home with her when she was 6 years old so she had a hard time trusting me at first. It took almost two full years to get her to trust me enough to pick her up.

Despite how difficult it was to get Missy to warm up to me, she was so loving. After she did finally warm up, Missy was a cuddle bear. Even if she didn't want to be touched, she always wanted to be in the same room as us. She slept on the bed every night, took over our laps whenever we were sitting, and constantly would pat our heads and play with our hair. Missy was fiercely protective of us too. Any time we were in pain or sad she would find a way to cheer us up. She was clumsy so it wasn't too hard to make us laugh.

The night she passed was the hardest night of my life. Her heart failed from an infection we had been treating for a few weeks. We decided then and there to save her more suffering. We told her what was going to happen and, instead of her fighting the vet and us like normal, she curled up on my lap and peacefully went to sleep before we could euthanize her. She went out on her own terms, in her momma's lap sleeping peacefully.

That night, we noticed that all the paranormal activity we had been experiencing was silent. Nothing happened. The next day, we were expecting the usual slamming of cabinets and shadow figures in the hall. Instead, we saw Missy laying on the couch watching us. That night, we woke up to some rustling sounds only to feel her jumping on the bed. The rustling noises stopped immediately. We didn't see her that night but we knew she was there.

The activity has been at a stand still for almost a week now. Every once in a while we see a flash of Missy out of the corner of our eye but nothing else has happened. I think our baby girl is protecting us in death. I just hope she has found some peace in death. Fly high Little Bean ❤️

Reddit user 

U/Judgment-Ready

Overnight Shift

 

Overnight Shift

I work as a resident treatment worker, in a psychiatric group home. I’ve been working in this field since the day after my 18th birthday, I’m now almost 21. My current set of clients are all men, ages between 30-60. There’s 5 of them in one house, with a 1-5 staff to client ratio, meaning it’s just me with them when I’m working. All of my clients are diagnosed with schizophrenia. When I first started, one of my former clients was telling me about a man he see’s walking around in the dark. With the nature of my job, it’s not abnormal for my clients to say things like this, as they are many times experiencing active hallucinations, delusions and paranoia. I work every shift depending on staffing demands, but I prefer overnights as that leaves me with more time in my day. I’ve been working in this specific house since June, and I’ve been on/off the overnight shift every couple of weeks. Every single night I see a ghost. At first, I thought it was my clients waking/wandering in the middle of the night. But I’d see it, and it would always be a quick pass, so I’d do room checks, just to verify everyone is in bed. They always were. After the first couple times I started to become very suspicious, as it wouldn’t be unusual for a client to do something “out of the ordinary” such as wandering the halls. I kept trying to catch what I was seeing, assuming it was a client. Let me interject, I’m not afraid of any of my clients, I’ve worked with over 100 people facing these challenges, and I’ve been attacked by many them on several occasions, and it’s something to be prepared for not afraid of. I have extensive training in crisis de-escalation, hand to hand combat, and hands on restraint. I’m 6’2, and 220 pounds. I’m also not afraid of ghosts. I’ve always been fascinated with the paranormal. Point being, I wasn’t walking into this situation scared, I’ve seen some pretty “terrifying” things in this field. Anyway, after my first week on the overnight, and seeing glimpses of this figure passing by multiple times a night, I was fully convinced it was a ghost I’m seeing and not a client, so I began to look forward to seeing it, as I like the paranormal. I eventually brought it up to the other overnight staff, and she said she saw it too, but never really thought much of it. It was never a bother until tonight. I just got back on the overnight after a 2 month stretch on day shift, that client that first told me of the ghost was discharged early on in that two months. So it had been a while since I had heard of or even thought about it. I just finished my hourly rounds, and I was working on service documentation. It’s after 3AM, and I’ve got my AirPods in listening to music as I write. The light in the kitchen flashed, so I look up. I catch a brief glimpse of a figure walk towards the living room from the kitchen. I put my documentation in the desk, and leave the office shutting and locking the office door behind me, protocol as meds, records, and service documentation are kept in that room. As I round the corner to the living room, the kitchen lights flash again but I see nothing, so I go back to the office. As I’m unlocking the door, the house begins to shake. Like earthquake shake. I live in Iowa, earthquakes don’t exist here. It scared me. Like a primal instinctive fear. I make my way into the office, and the service documentation I had just put In the desk, is now all over the floor. Like someone threw the stack up in the air. Standing there puzzled, trying to make sense of what just happened, the house starts shaking again. When it stopped, I immediately did rounds to check on my guys. Everyone was in bed asleep. Dumbfounded, I go pick up all my papers. I called the sheriffs department, to verify it wasn’t an earthquake as I’d have to notify management, and follow natural disaster protocol. They definitely thought I was insane. Anyway yea I can finally say a ghost scared the absolute hell out of me, I didn’t know they could shake houses.

Anonymous reddit user

Ghost dog

 Ghost dog

Had a dog growing up, his name was Charlie.

Charlie was a mutt - pit and German Shepard mix and some other stuff. He was very willful, and prone to occasional violence with the other dog, Sam. But for the most part he was a good dog, even though he ate the arm off my dads recliner chair and just claimed it as his own.

This dog chewed everything. Shoes, couches, sticks, rocks.

He also loved to get out of the yard (a poorly fenced 1 acre woodland lot) but because of his aggression problems and his wanderlust, he wore a pretty heavy chain around his neck with a bell and reflectors attached.

Anyway, because he chewed everything, my mother bought a supposedly "unchewable" plastic bone thing for him.

First of all, fuck whatever company made that thing, because Charlie had no problem chewing through it and swallowing pieces of it.

A piece he swallowed ended up rupturing his intestine, and surgery would have been $6k at a predicted success rate of 20%. We didn't have that. Mom took him in and had him put down. Dad buried him in the yard.

Ten days later or so, it was me, my brother, and my dad, all up late. Just talking, not much going on.

Then we all heard it, and we all looked at each other. It was unmistakable. All at once we all heard the click clack of Charlie's claws on the deck, and the jingling of his chain, and the tiny little jingle bell. It just sounded 100% like Charlie was asking to come in.

Dad got up, went to the door, and opened it. Nothing was there on the porch. But dad just stood there with the door fully open for a good 10 seconds, standing off to the side as one would when letting a dog inside.

He saw that we were confused and said, "Just want to make sure Charlie got all the way back in."

And that was the end of it. Never heard him again. The only other thing of note here is my dad did not like dogs or cats until we got Charlie and Charlie promptly ate his very expensive chair. In some weird way, my dad respected that. Don't ask me why because I'd need to ask him, and sadly that's not possible.

Three people, myself included, all heard it at once and knew immediately what the sounds were. The closest neighboring house was a half mile away and our driveway was steep and long, so any noise was cause for alert. It was a very quiet place.

Anyway, that's the story of when Charlie came back inside for the last time.

From reddit user 

u/nutbastard

The Chase

The moon brushed the edges of the trees with silver. She ran swiftly, trying to make as little sound as possible. Foliage whipped her face and tangled in her hair; vines on the ground rose up and caught at her feet. Nature seemed to be trying its best to slow her down.

She could hear the man’s pounding footfalls nearby. So close. He was so close. She quickened her pace.

The footfalls stopped abruptly. She halted as well and listened intently. A night bird hooted. Crickets thrummed; bats squeaked above her in their drunken dance. The jungle was alive with noises, but she couldn’t hear him. Where was he?

A rustle so furtive she almost missed it. Dry leaves crackled. A pebble clicked against another. Her muscles tensed. She crept behind a tree and leaned against its gnarled bole, her body so still she might have been the tree’s shadow.

The undergrowth stirred. The leaves parted and the man’s head poked out, turning this way and that to try and spot her. She pressed even harder against the tree. Her limbs quivered with tension.

He was coming toward her. He was so close now she could smell him. His ragged breaths filled her ears. Adrenaline surged through her.

He saw her a split second before she leaped. His terrified yelp was silenced when she plunged her talon-like nails into his chest and ripped out his heart.

After feasting, she slunk back to her lair. She slept, dreaming about the next chase.

Yin Leong

For more terrifying short stories from from this amazing author check out her new new book

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