I spent an entire year in my cousin’s finca in Colombia. It’s very deep into the mountains and 90% of his land is covered in forest. That whole year was basically one massive nope. I can say that at least every other day something completely crazy would happen. One of the things i remember the most was “la ronda”. One day I was picking some tomatoes when suddenly the whole mountain goes silent. Not a single animal made a sound. Note that this is Colombia and there are many birds there.
Anyway, I stop what I’m doing and listen closely because what the fuck. That’s when every fucking criter imaginable starts coming out of every hole and every crack and starts hauling ass uphill. Massive tarantulas, huge cockroaches, beetles, mice, rats, etc. Anything that crawled on land, basically. Then the dogs started barking and whimpering. That’s when my cousin yelled “la ronda, la ronda!” Which basically means “The round, the round!” He tells me to get inside the house . He gets this bag out with some sort of poison and starts pouring it outside the house. I then hear what sounds like running water coming uphill from the trees.
I looked outside and saw what was probably millions of ants crawling up the mountain and eating every livinf thing in their path. It was absolutely terrifying. i couldn’t see the ground because there were so. Many. Fucking. Ants. Luckily, the poison worked and they crawled around the house. My cousin was happy, however, because the ants killed whatever pests were around.
I am in the Army and while training in hoenfels germany our platoon was sitting on a screenline conducting an area reconnaissance mission. During the night the guy on guard heard someone bang 3 times on the left side of the bradley, which doesn’t make sense because you would need another large metal object to make such a noise. Less than 5 seconds later he heard the same 3 “knocks” on top of the turret. A few seconds pass and a high pitched tone comes through the headset with 3 knocks on the back door of the bradley along with someone screaming “HEY LET ME IN!!!”.
This wakes me and one other up and we open the door thinking it’s someone in our platoon who was trying to get in touch with us. There was only complete darkness, we waited about 30 sec, geared up and checked a 50m semi circle around our bradley finding nothing. We get back inside and every fault light in the turret is on with some blinking (they don’t blink, ever). The radios were also completely dead. We restarted the turret and everything worked fine. Called over the net to see if anyone was near our area and no one was. Next day we asked the OCs (essentially referees) and no one else was out the night prior. Shortly after, we discovered an old tank half burried and rusted out near our position. We came to the conclusion that it must have been ghost nazis.
I have an older guy friend who grew up in 1950s Alaska where his dad was a bush pilot.
So one day, they’re out flying around just for a nice day, and suddenly the entire sky goes red.
Complete red and clouds and no radio.
At the time, he’s old enough to understand what was going on, but still young that they just don’t talk about it. His dad continues flying- for hours and not a word, but still thinking that the Cold War had just ended in thermonuclear holocuast. It wasn’t out of the question- Alaska was a target close to Russia, and this was the height of the cold war.
The sky is still forever red.
Finally, they start to run out of fuel. They have to land, but they don’t know what’s going on and zero ability to find out. His dad eases the plane down, finds the landing strip, and goes in for an emergency landing.
They make it down perfectly, no hiccups, bumps, or anything. The airport is besides itself (red sky and an unannounced emergency landing), and a crew guy comes up to help them out.
“What’s going on?” his dad asked.
“You have no idea just how lucky you are. A volcano just went off, and you’ve been flying through the debris.”
Thank god no thermonuclear warfare, and they were stupidly lucky that the plane didn’t stall out in the middle of nowhere Alaska with a volcano spewing nearby.
So this happened 3 years ago when I was living with my parents in Meeteetse, Wyoming. Super small and secluded. It was Halloween and my parents decorated the house and we expected about 3-4 kids to show up as the house is about a mile from a subdivision and parents usually drive their kids. At 8 I took in the chair with candy because I figured no one else would be coming around. I’m in the basement where there are no windows and very little sound can get out and it’s about 11. All the lights upstairs are shut off because I’m going to bed.
I hear a knock at the side door (which no one ever knocks at). I go upstairs and the flood light which usually turns on automatically wasn’t on. So I flipped on the other light that lights up the basketball hoop area. There’s a person in one of those “old man” masks that have the crazy hair just standing there. He is just looking at the house. He sprints to the back where the patio is. I hear loud banging on the back windows. Honestly the loudest kicking I’ve ever heard. I rush over and the person is just staring. Then he runs away and I do t hear anything for 5 minutes or so. Then I start hearing the knob to the main door being forcefully jiggled back and forth.
I ran upstairs to the bedroom and went to the crawl space in the attic. I immediately dialed 911. This was the first time I ever dialed 911 so I don’t know what I was expecting but the operator didn’t seem to be very shocked or wanting to send out a car very quickly. I remember repeating my address like 12 times and the lady kept saying “calm down sir.” She wants me to stay on the line but I’m afraid if the guy got in he would know where I was because of my voice. I hang up and I can hear the knob being slammed like he had a hammer or something. I’m having a full on panic attack and I’m wheezing trying to get air.
Then I hear the side door (original door) being kicked super hard. At this point I’m shaking so bad the dust from the floor boards is flying up in the air. I hear a window smash and I immediately know he’s going to get in. I hold my breath which makes the wheezing worse. I’m going to die. I’m listening to hear footsteps or anything. Nothing. The actual amount of time I spent up there was around 16 minutes. I swear it was an hour. An officer showed up and pounded on the door. I ran downstairs and flipped open the door. I told him everything as well as the backup Sheriffs that got there.
They all kept saying a “friend” was probably just trying to scare me. I had no friends in Wyoming. None. They looked around the house and wrote down some shit but nothing really happened. They left and I drove behind them to Cody, WY and got a hotel room. I still can’t sleep without all the lights on and a .45 on my dresser.
I’m a pretty avid backpacker in the PNW. Sometimes I’ll hike for days on end without seeing another person. I think it’s exhilarating being completely alone, there’s really no feeling like it. You get used to it, but personally I can never help but be on edge. The environment is completely serene and friendly, but there’s a constant feeling in the back of your mind, it’s hard to put your finger on. Most of the time you’ll be chugging along, comfortable in your mind, but when you stop for rest, or to fill up on water, you can’t help but look over your shoulder.
Nothing bothers me much out in the woods. I’ve run into brown bears, had elk trample through camps late at night and much more. But one night was different. I was on a deep backwoods hike, in the late fall off-season. was pretty cold, but the snow hadn’t quite started falling yet. I like that. In fact, I usually plan my trips this way. The forest ranger I talked to when I was organizing the trip said I was the only hiker she knew of who’d be up there at the time. I was using dispersed camping sites so far off the beaten path they don’t have fire pits. That night was 5 or 6 miles from the trail Into the area. I set up camp at a site about a hundred yards from a a stream, close enough that a faint babbling was audible. I’d lit a fire, cooked dinner, read for a while and was settling down to sleep. I lay listening for a while to the sounds of the woods and the creek. Just as I was nodding off, I think I hear voices. Nothing distinct, no clear words, but clearly a group of people was having a good time, laughing, maybe telling stories around a campfire.
A feeling of dread came over me. I thought: “I shouldn’t leave the tent.” Fear like I’ve never felt engulfed me. All the hairs on my arms, legs, and on the back of my neck stood on end. I lay there for a while in panic, the voices carrying on laughing indistinctly. After a while they receded into the background noise. I still didn’t leave the tent, I was too afraid.
The next morning after a very short night’s sleep, I searched the surrounding area, and the path to the site. The few shoe prints I found were faded and worn around the edges, too old and too few to be from the size of group I’d heard.
I tried to shrug it off as nerves, maybe nervousness got the best of me, but I couldn’t shake a certain tension. I made good time to my next site, the last of the trip, looking around a little more than usual. Still nobody to be seen.
That site had no stream. Dry camping isn’t a blast, but it’s doable if you pack enough water for cooking and drinking for the night. It was a lot quieter, just the chirps of bugs and the wind rustling the trees. I cooked my dinner, and stayed up a good while after dark sitting on a log, looking at the stars and listening to the sounds of the forest, trying to hear the voices from the night before, but there was nothing. I turned in for the night, stretching every act out. I lay there, restless for what felt like hours. Finally, calm comes over me. And the it’s back. Nothing threatening or particularly scary, just the sounds of a group of 15-20 having a good time, barely audible above the background noise. This time I’m calm, and there’s what seems like an internal dialogue in the back of my mind: ‘Why not join them? Sounds like they’re having fun.’ “I’d really rather stay here.” This is entirely unconscious, and goes on for a while. I’d never experienced anything like this. I was worried that I’d lost it. After a time, the noises faded away into the white noise, and I felt that I was alone.
The next day I packed as quickly as I could and got out of Dodge. During the day I was more at ease, like I had always been in the past. I was relieved when I got to the car and started back home.
I told the story a few times, and every time I felt a little of that dread from the first night. I really had no reason to feel strongly about what had happened. I just heard strange noises in the forest, nothing extraordinary, but I felt it.
On one occasion, I told the story my teacher who’s native. He got quiet for a minute, then said I had run into stick indians. He said that it was good that I didn’t leave the tent. Stick indians are evil and dangerous being that prey on children and women. The look on his face was sober. He told me not to go back to that place again. These spirits are extremely aggressive and attack and kill at the slightest provocation, including even saying their Salish name, which he refused to do.
Whenever the subject comes up, I get that same fear in me. As I write this I’m thousands of miles from those sites and my arms are still quaking.
Thank you to all the contributors on Reddit.