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Camping scare stories.

come on guys. somebody has a good story to tell i know.
this has been such a darn good thread. i need more of it.
been listening to the "missing 411" on coast to coast off youtube.
i fall asleep to that or "lets read" every night. man that dude from lets read,
his voice alone will knock you out cold. poor guy everybody on there tells him they fall
asleep to his audios. its a trip too if you can catch one of his pod casts. hes like 33ish.
his stories are exellent.
 
come on guys. somebody has a good story to tell i know.
this has been such a darn good thread. i need more of it.
been listening to the "missing 411" on coast to coast off youtube.
i fall asleep to that or "lets read" every night. man that dude from lets read,
his voice alone will knock you out cold. poor guy everybody on there tells him they fall
asleep to his audios. its a trip too if you can catch one of his pod casts. hes like 33ish.
his stories are exellent.
Sorry, God has taken good care of me. I can tell when he does. Maybe someone will be along
 
This one freaked us out at the time.

We were a group of high school friends from Marietta, and every summer we’d head out to camp at Red Top Mountain or Camp Payne. One summer, we set up camp at Red Top, and as the sun started to dip below the horizon, the weather turned. What started as a light drizzle quickly turned into a torrential downpour. Picture this: 10 high schoolers, 4 tents, and a truck bed rigged up like a makeshift tent. As you can imagine, it was chaos. Half of the tents leaked, and we were all soaked to the bone within minutes. The storm didn’t give up either—it felt like the heavens had opened up and weren’t about to stop.

When the rain finally slowed to a drizzle, we crawled out from our soggy shelters, shivering, to see the damage. The ground was a mess, everything was flooded, and our campsite looked like a war zone. Then, out of nowhere, we heard it. At first, it sounded like the shrill, frantic screams of children—coming from different parts of the cove where we were camping. It was terrifying. Our hearts dropped, and for a few moments, we just froze, too scared to even speak.

We all dove back into the tents, huddling together, wide-eyed and trying to make sense of the noise. Were we being pranked? Was there someone else out there? The fear had us on edge, and we stayed hidden, whispering nervously to each other, until the sound finally stopped.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that we realized the truth: it wasn’t kids at all. The eerie screaming was actually frogs, of all things—singing their post-storm chorus. After the long, sweltering summer heat, they were finally getting some relief, and they were letting everyone know. :doh:

We felt pretty stupid, but it was the kind of thing that makes you wonder what’s out there in the dark when you don’t understand what you’re hearing.
 
Our hunting club sub-leased a tract of land off Sandtown rd. In Tignall Ga. in 2005 and we had met some neighboring club members while in and out of the property and some had mentioned the particular tract we leased was haunted. While I’m not the spooky type, it was unnerving that guys from different leases of this enormous property had mentioned “Haints” and weird lights and “things” darting across the main logging road. Either way we had already payed and a few of us decided to go camp on opening weekend and hunt. Killed a few deer had fun nothing odd or scary at all! Fast forward to mid December, I took a week off before Christmas vacation to hunt the property. I had a climber set near a wide creek crossing covered in bamboo and ferns. Really pretty place to hunt and saw a lot of animals in that spot. Well the LAST TIME I ever hunted that spot or the whole lease for that matter was one evening close to last light when the ground critters stopped making sounds and the air got stale and damp and the hairs on my arms and neck stood on end. Naturally the sound of my breathing was deafening and this overwhelming sense of dread came over me. The thought of lowering my rifle down and starting the process of climbing down petrified me. I’ve never felt this feeling before or since this day and all of a sudden something or somethings hit the creek with speed and was coming up the bank on my side and came into the bamboo with enough force to smack the tops together and part them. I had around a 15 minute walk back to the truck and about a 35 minute drive back to the highway on the logging rd. So needless to say when I got to the ground I bolted up the hill as fast as my big ass could go back to the truck. Embarrassing as it is I had my buddy go back at the end of the season to get my climber off the tree because I didn’t want to step foot back on that creepy ass place.
I used to live in this neck of the woods. Heard numerous similar tales from local folk. Good ole Tignall.
 
come on guys. somebody has a good story to tell i know.
this has been such a darn good thread. i need more of it.
been listening to the "missing 411" on coast to coast off youtube.
i fall asleep to that or "lets read" every night. man that dude from lets read,
his voice alone will knock you out cold. poor guy everybody on there tells him they fall
asleep to his audios. its a trip too if you can catch one of his pod casts. hes like 33ish.
his stories are exellent.
Nothing to do with hunting but I was cruising timber in AL one summer. I was a good 3 miles from any access road and the end of my line was a pretty good sized river. As I approached the river, I saw something white up ahead. The closer I got, I realized it was a girl. She was barefoot in a lacey summer dress with a basket. She waved so
I asked what she was doing so far back in the woods. Said she was looking for dead armadillos. Said she made jewelry outta the shells. When I asked her how she got so far away from the road with no shoes, she put her head down and walked off. Strange as hell and my map showed no other way in or out that was convenient. When I told the local team that evening, they said she had been seen many times on that particular tract and everyone assumed she was a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts and this wasn’t no ghost. Just couldn’t for the life of me figure out how she got where she was with no shoes. Weird.
 
Nothing to do with hunting but I was cruising timber in AL one summer. I was a good 3 miles from any access road and the end of my line was a pretty good sized river. As I approached the river, I saw something white up ahead. The closer I got, I realized it was a girl. She was barefoot in a lacey summer dress with a basket. She waved so
I asked what she was doing so far back in the woods. Said she was looking for dead armadillos. Said she made jewelry outta the shells. When I asked her how she got so far away from the road with no shoes, she put her head down and walked off. Strange as hell and my map showed no other way in or out that was convenient. When I told the local team that evening, they said she had been seen many times on that particular tract and everyone assumed she was a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts and this wasn’t no ghost. Just couldn’t for the life of me figure out how she got where she was with no shoes. Weird.
👀 shidddddddnnnn me!!!
 
Sorry, God has taken good care of me. I can tell when he does. Maybe someone will be along
hes taken great care of me too friend, but we gotta remember Isaiah 45:7
even the scary is included in that, but dont want to get that involved here though as it will push folks away.
always does.
 
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