Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Halloween/Scary Story Thread

Anybody got any? I've already toldt mine a couple of times and so will abstain. Don't have to be Halloween, but just any story that is in tune with the season.

Not specifically Halloween, but go and look at the one on survivalistboards.com.

It is a sticky in the "wilderness and camping" section (I think that's the one).

Beware... it is 80+ pages.

Great-grandparents owned a row home in southern PA in a small rural town. Bathroom was at the front of the row home -- you had to climb up stairs that took you to the back of the house, then walk back a hall that took you to the front. Bathroom door was right next to the attic door.

I always had a strange nameless terror about going upstairs to use that bathroom -- which was the only one in the house. We'd be there at least 3-5 times per year for holidays plus some visits in the summer, etc. I had no specific reason to be afraid of the house otherwise and was always an exploratory type of kid -- i.e., show me an attic door and I'll want to go up and look around. Not that one.

I never mentioned these fears and just chalked it up to whatever. Great-grandparents died when I was @ 11-12 and the house was used as a rental by the heirs.

One day right before the heirs died and the house was sold, I was invited to come pick through some stuff that was left there. I went up into the attic, but as a 17-18 year old guy, it made no impact.

Years later in college, I was talking with mom and dad and I asked them -- "Were you ever weirded out by that house, specifically upstairs? I was terrified by it."

It was then, at @ 20-22 years of age, that mom said: "We never told you this, because it didn't matter, you were too young -- the previous owner hung himself in the attic stairwell."

I can only think that perhaps as a child there was a window of time that I was able to pick up on things that I don't notice nowadays.

Thanks for sharing that Burner. You have to wonder if that last that you said is true. Then again, did you ever think that perhaps your parents openly talked about the incident in front of you before they thought you were old enough to remember it...but that you did?

Originally Posted By: Lee24

A friend and I got caught in a weather change from 55 degrees to freezing rain and 70 mph winds which shredded our tent. We loaded up and walked out in the dark, descending 4,000 feet in 18 miles that we had covered earlier that day. At one point, my partner had such severe hypothermia that he went blind, and we had to stop and huddle while our clothing froze. When the freezing rain and sleet turned to a warmer drizzle, we got up and made it to an Adirondack, where we shed our wet clothing and got into our dry sleeping bags and warmed up.

Glad you said sleeping bag"s" was getting ready to ask if you had been reading Lee24's guidebook on survival.

Scariest story on the Campfire by far.

I certainly thought so.

I suppose it's possible -- however -- this would have happened when MOM was a kid, as it was her grandparents. I don't know for sure that they did/didn't talk about it in front of me; no way to know, I suppose, short of asking them, but I'm certain they don't remember.

I do know that my own son at 15 months often points, stares, and laughs at things that no one else can see. It's not uncommon for him to point at a corner of the room, out into an empty hallway, etc., and start talking and laughing.

Who knows?

I have had other unusual experiences, but nothing that so directly correlated with an actual situation in the same way that story did.

It was November of '08, and an election was lurking..............

i got one ..to long to type it out ...in late70's... northern WI around a real campfire... u WILL have goose bumps. me a flashlite some noise in the woods... scaned the area at the usural heigth...raised the light up to about 8 feet or better.. two gold silver dollor size eye's looking at me from 25 feet...........shakeing my head now/enougth said.

had an old printing press that was not hooked up to power start up on its own......were a couple witnesses to that one.....soon as it shut itself down we hauled that SOB outside to be taken to the dump....

have a ghost that hangs around the shop....more a PITA than scary, to me anyway....he hasnt scared me but he has given several others including my wife a good scare....had one gal working for us that he really seemed to like to [bleep] with, she quit after a few months....

Has it ever manifested itself into a human form?

I've told this before but haven't had much of this stuff happen, which I'm thankful for.

I worked for a family that were quite superstitious. They were also beer drinking, woman chasing, Pentecostals. I believe therein lies the problem. Anyway, they always claimed the building was haunted, but I never paid that much mind until one night. I often worked late nights and had came back this particular night to work on some closing stuff. I had a lot to do and wasn't thinking about a thing but to get my work done and get home.

An hour or two after getting there, I heard the door between the office area and the shop open and close. It was a door without a lock or handle that just was pushed to go through from either way with a piston type closer and rubber skirt on the bottom that kept the air conditioned and heated office air from the less temperate shop. I'd heard the sound thousands of times and clearly recognized it.

I called out and there was no answer. I got up and looked around and figured someone was messing with me. I called out and checked around a bit but no one seemed to be there. No worries. I usually came armed, which everyone I worked with knew, and that night was no exception. Just in case I stuck the gun in my belt and went back to work.

Very shortly after getting back to work, I heard the door again. Now I'm kinda pissed, so I jump up and run to the area only about 30 feet from my office. Nothing. I'm still thinking someone is messing with me or maybe a burglar, so I call out I'm armed and if there is anyone there that shouldn't be they better get out fast, draw my 45 and go take a look around. I stop often to listen for movement or breathing or anything, but find nothing but a empty building and all the doors and windows are secure. We did have an alarm which I always set appropriately later at night and it was on.

I figure I better get my stuff done and get home, so I go back in my office and lock the door and start working again. Soon there are new sounds of file drawers opening and closing coming from a couple offices across the hall from me. I go and check it out but there is no one there. I go back to my office starting to figure out that there is a haunting going on but not really believing it. The file drawers start up again and now sounds from the front like that door opening.

I know what to do and in a loud voice but not a yell declare I know what is going on and who they are, that I am here to work and not leaving, and that I am a child of the Most High God and in the name of Jesus I take authority over them in the name of Jesus and they have to leave and leave me alone to finish my work.

Silence. Not another sound.

I finished my work and went home about an hour later.

If I hadn't been there, I wouldn't believe it happened. I've always believed in the spirit realm but not ghosts that manifest themselves as such. I still don't believe in ghosts and have no idea what the purpose was of the experience I had in that old building, but it did increase my faith. I doubt that's what they had in mind.

Three years ago, an unqualified, inexperienced, radical socialist that no one knew much about, named Barak Obama of all things, was elected President of the United States.

That's the scariest story I know.

Some 47-48 years ago I saw an actual ghost. I was 4 or 5 at the time.

Mom dressed me up in a white sheet with cut out eye-holes then showed me myself in a full size mirror she had. Scared the crap out of me. I wasn't too excited about all that Halloween stuff for a while.

oooo that one is a Spook story indeed!

This comes from an old book handed down from my great aunt. It was published by Bennett Cerf and is one of the best spook tales I've ever read. It would have been a tremendous 'Twilight Zone' episode. Enjoy.


I generally minded my own business on the train, but it was impossible to concentrate on the evening paper after the young man slumped into the seat beside me. In all my years of commuting between New York and Stamford, I had never seen anybody so obviously demoralized and one the verge of collapse. The fellow�s hands trembled violently, his body twitched, he gave the air of seeing nothing around him and neither knowing nor caring exactly where he was. He mumbled to himself occasionally too, but when I pointedly sighed and folded up the newspaper, he pulled himself together sufficiently to apologize for fidgeting and making a nuisance of himself. I did not encourage him in any way, and was rather surprised to find myself suddenly plunged into the middle of the young man�s story.

�Nine years ago,� the young man said. �I was elected head of my college fraternity. We had a strict rule that only three members of every new freshman class be admitted to membership. That kept our active list to an even dozen. Nobody ever refused our bids. Everyone recognized that we were the kingpins of the campus. In what was probably a subconscious effort to prove to ourselves what superior beings we were, our initiations became more and more elaborate and fantastic as the years went by.

�At initiation time it was my idea to take the three neophytes we had selected and bundle them out to a deserted house about fifteen miles from the campus. It had been unoccupied for years, was windowless, sagging and ugly, and was said by the townspeople to be haunted. We picked a black, starless night for the initiation, and all the way out to the place poured tales of horror and the supernatural into the ears of our three apprehensive freshmen.

�I picked the frailest of the kids to go into the house first. He was the son of a famous novelist who had won the Pulitzer Prize the year before, and was by way of being a boy prodigy himself. His eyes betrayed his fear when we shipped him off, but he compressed his lips and set out bravely enough. The rest of us built a fire and relaxed around it.

�I watched him enter the deserted house. It was about two hundred yards from where we were gathered. His instructions were to stay inside for a half-hour, and then come back to us. When forty-five long minutes went by without any sign of him, I experienced my first uneasiness, and dispatched the second freshman to fetch him. Ten minutes more went by. Nothing happened. There wasn�t a sound anywhere. The fire was burning low---we just sat there, quietly watching.

��Those kids are a little too smart for their own good,� I said at last. �Davis, get in there and bring them back fast.� Davis was our prize conquest�a handsome, two hundred pound boy whose scholastic records foreshadowed an almost certain place on next year�s All-American squad. He had already been elected president of the freshman class.

�I�ll get �em,� he grinned, and loped loped toward the house.

�And then we just sat there. I guess it was only about ten minutes but it seemed like hours. �It looks like it�s my move, fellows,� I said finally. �We�ll have to teach these guys they can�t play tricks on their elders this way.� I got up and walked slowly over to the deserted house.

�The first thing that struck me when I entered was a musty smell like the smell of an attic full of old books and newspapers. I yelled for the boys, and poked my flashlight into every corner but there wasn�t a sign of them. Only a faint, steady tap that seemed to come from the roof. Filled with dread, I climbed the creaking stairway to the second floor, and the ladder leading to the roof. I stuck my head through the open skylight. There was Davis, stretched out on his stomach! His hair had turned snow-white. His eyes rolled in his head. He was mad as a hatter. In his hand he held a hammer covered with blood. He was rapping weakly with it on the tin parapet, in a senseless rhythm. I screamed to him, but he paid not attention to me. He just went on tapping with that bloody hammer. I somehow or other got back to the fellows waiting for me and we managed to carry Davis down from the roof. He died in the college hospital the next morning without uttering a single syllable. We never found any trace of the other two boys�.�

I fidgeted in my seat, not quite certain whether or not the young man was trying to put one over on me. He certainly seemed to be in a desperate condition. A drunkard, perhaps, or a dope addict? All this had happened nine years ago, according to the young man�s story, surely he had not been in such a state all that time! The fellow turned and looked at me with eyes that seemed to be burning.

�On the anniversary of that night every year,� he explained, �one of the nine men who were on that hazing party has gone stark, raving mad. Each has been found gibbering nonsense, and tapping the floor with a blood-soaked hammer. Each has died within twenty-four hours� time.

�Tomorrow,� he said, in low and precise tones, �is the ninth anniversary of that night. And I�m the only one left��.�

bump because it appears that everybody quit reading this thread after I posted. Have I become the new Thread Killer?