Tales From The Dark Forest
*WARNING* Park Ranger ADMITS Their HIDDEN SECRETS!
(speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) (birds chirping) (birds chirping) (birds chirping) You're not gonna believe the shocking secrets this park ranger is finally spilling. (birds chirping) I've spent most of my life patrolling the vast, untamed wilderness as a park ranger. Over the years, I've witnessed more than my share of strange and unsettling events. They can't be easily explained. Some are some of my own experiences, while others were passed down by fellow rangers who spent their lives in the wild. I won't be naming any specific locations where these things happened. The last thing I want is for people to come searching for these places. Some mysteries are better left alone. These stories have stayed with me, making me question what we really know about the world around us. They're not just tales, but encounters with the unknown that have left a lasting mark. So if you're ready, let me take you through some more of the most chilling and mysterious events I've encountered during my time in the parks. The endless tunnel. It was a chilly afternoon when I stumbled upon the tunnel. I was exploring a remote part of the park that hadn't seen much foot traffic in years. The landscape was rugged, the trees thick, and the underbrush dens. It was the kind of place where you could easily lose track of time and direction, where the outside world seemed a distant memory. I had been following an old trail that led into a shallow ravine when I noticed something unusual. A narrow opening partially obscured by overgrown vines and brush. As I cleared the vegetation, I realized it was an entrance to a tunnel, its mouth wide and dark, framed by rusted metal supports. The tunnel looked old, a structure that may have been built decades ago and then forgotten. Curiosity got the better of me. I knew I shouldn't have ventured in alone, but something about the tunnel drew me in, a sense that it was hiding something that needed to be uncovered. I switched on my flashlight, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. The air in the tunnel was still unnervingly cold, much colder than outside, and the silence was almost deafening. The walls were made of concrete with the occasional rusted metal beams supporting the ceiling. The tunnel was man-made, but it seemed to stretch forever. Its end lost in the darkness ahead. I walked slowly, my footsteps echoing eerily off the walls. At first, it was just me and the sound of my boots on the concrete, but after a few minutes, I noticed something strange, faint noises coming from deeper within the tunnel. They were barely audible at first, just a whisper on the edge of hearing. I stopped listening carefully and realized they were growing louder the farther I went. The sounds were strange, an indistinct murmur of voices, metal clattering, and the faint scrape of something against the walls. It was as if the tunnel was alive with activity, but I was the only one there. I tried to rationalize it, telling myself it was just the wind or the old structure settling. But the farther I walked, the more the noise is intensified, becoming more distinct and unsettling. I heard low and unintelligible whispers as if someone or something was speaking just out of earshot. There was the sound of metal dragging on concrete, a grating noise that sent chills down my spine. Occasionally, there was a distant thud, like something heavy falling to the ground. My nerves were on edge and I decided to call out, hoping that maybe there was a rational explanation. Perhaps someone had gotten lost or was using the tunnel for shelter. - Hello? - I shouted, my voice echoing down the length of the tunnel. - This is federal land. You're not allowed to stay here. If anyone's there, you need to come out now. The only response was the echo of my own voice, bouncing back at me from the darkness. The whispers continued, but they didn't come from one direction. It was as if the tunnel was alive, murmuring its secrets in a language I didn't understand. The dragging sound grew closer, but still, no one emerged from the shadows. A wave of unease washed over me. Something wasn't right. Everything in my gut told me I didn't want to confront whatever was making those noises. The oppressive atmosphere grew heavier with each passing second, pressing down on me and making it harder to breathe. By now, the tunnel felt endless. No matter how far I walked, the end seemed to stay just out of reach. The darkness ahead, never giving way. The oppressive atmosphere grew heavier with every step. The noises too became almost unbearable. A cacophony of echoes that seemed to come from all around me, surrounding me, closing in. Finally, it became too much. The fear, the claustrophobia, the overwhelming sense that I was not alone in that tunnel. It all came crashing down on me. I turned on my heel and started back the way I came, my heart pounding. But something was wrong. The journey back took far less time than it should have. The tunnel that had seemed endless on the way in now felt disturbingly short as if we had shrunken behind me. I bursted out of the entrance into the open air, gasping for breath, and quickly returning to the ranger station. When I reported what I had found to my superiors, I expected a routine response, maybe a note to check it out later, or a warning to stay clear until it could be properly investigated. But their reaction was anything but routine. The moment I spoke of the tunnel, their expressions changed. They exchanged glances, their eyes grave. One of them, a senior ranger with decades of experience leaned in and spoke in a tone I had never heard from him before. Serious, almost fearful. "Listen," he said. "You're never going back into that tunnel. Do you understand?" His words caught me off guard. "Why, what's in there?" He didn't answer immediately, just shook his head. "Some things are better left alone. You're lucky to still be with us." The conversation left me rattled. What were they hiding? What had I almost walked into? No one would give me a straight answer, and the warning was clear. Stay away from the tunnel. To this day, I don't know what lies at the end of that tunnel, or why it seemed to stretch on and on forever. All I know is that something about it wasn't right. Something that my superiors were determined to keep buried. Whatever their reason, I had taken their advice to heart and never going back, and I have no intention of finding out what may be waiting in the dark. The faceless man. It started with a report from a group of campers who came into the ranger station late one evening visibly shaken. They described seeing a man on one of the more remote trails just as the sun dipped below the horizon, but there was something terribly wrong with him. He had no face, no eyes, no mouth, no nose, just a smooth featureless expanse where his face should have been. The campers had been returning to their site when they noticed the figure standing a short distance off the trail, partially obscured by the trees. At first, they thought it was just another hiker, but as they got closer, they realized the face had no features, just a blank, unsettling void. The figure didn't move or make a sound. It just stood there facing them as if watching. The campers unnerved, hurried back to their site and decided to pack up early, heading straight for the station to report what they had seen. The next day, I decided to check it out. I had been in the park long enough to know that strange sightings weren't uncommon, but something about this one felt different. The fear. (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) Hello, it is Ryan and I was on a flight the other day playing one of my favorite social spin slot games on Chumbakasino.com. I looked over the person sitting next to me and you know what they were doing. They were also playing Chumbakasino. Everybody's loving having fun with it. Chumbakasino's home to hundreds of casino-style games that you can play for free anytime, anywhere. So sign up now at Chumbakasino.com to claim you're a free welcome bonus at Chumbakasino.com and live the Chumbalife. Sponsored by Chumbakasino, no purchase necessary. VGW Group, void where prohibited by law, 18 plus terms and conditions apply. As a worker in those camper's eyes was real. It wasn't the kind of fear that came from seeing a shadow in the woods or hearing an animal rustling in the brush. This was something deeper, more primal. I headed out to the trail where they had seen the figure. It was a quiet area, not frequently visited, especially at dusk. When I arrived, the sun was already starting to set, casting long shadows across the path. The sun was thick, was scent of pine and earth and the usual sounds of the forest seemed muted as if the whole area was holding its breath. I walked slowly, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. The further I went, the more tense the atmosphere became. My footsteps seemed too loud and I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. And then I saw him. He was standing about 50 yards off the trail, half hidden behind a cluster of trees. Just as the campers had described, the figure was a man dressed in what looked like an old tattered coat. His head was turned slightly in my direction, but there was no features on his face. Just a smooth blank surface where his eyes, nose and mouth should have been. A cold wave of unease washed over me, but I forced myself to stay calm. Hey, I called out my voice sounding strange in the quiet. Do you need help? Are you lost? The figure didn't respond, didn't move. He just stood there facing me, his blank face somehow more aggressive in its lack of features than any human's face could be. It was as if he was waiting for something, expecting something. I stepped closer and the figure turned moving deeper into the forest. He didn't run, didn't hurry. Just walked at a steady pace as if leading me somewhere. I hesitated for a moment, then followed. The trail was behind me now and the trees thicker the undergrowth more tangled. The figure stayed just ahead, always at the edge of my vision moving silently through the woods. The further I followed him, the more the forest began to change. The trees seemed taller, their branches twisted in unnatural ways. The light faded faster than it should have and the air grew colder and heavier as if the forest itself was pressing in on me. The ground beneath my feet felt wrong, soft in places where it shouldn't been and the shadows around me grew darker and deeper as if they were alive. I tried calling out again, but the words died in my throat. The figure never turned back, never acknowledged me, just kept walking deeper and deeper into the woods. My heart being pounded in my ears and every instinct screamed at me to stop, to turn back, but something compelled me to keep going, a pole I couldn't explain. Finally, the figure stopped. We were in a small clearing, the trees looming like silent sentinels. The figure stood in the center, motionless, his head tilted slightly as if listening for something. I stopped too, the oppressive silence pressing down on me, filling my lungs with dread. For a moment, neither of us moved. The tension in the air was unbearable, like the calm before storm. I felt an overwhelming urge to speak, to ask who or what this figure was, but the words wouldn't come. The figure turned its head slightly in my direction, and though it had no eyes, I felt its gaze piercing through me, cold and unfeeling. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. The clearing was empty, the forest silent. I was alone, standing in the middle of nowhere with no idea how far I'd come or how to get back. The oppressive weight in the air lifted, but the unease remained, a nine sense of wrongness that I couldn't shake. I turned and hurried back the way I'd come, my heart racing, my breath coming in quick shallow gasps. But the forest had changed. The trees looked different, the path unfamiliar. It took me far longer than it should have to find my way back to the trail, and by the time I did, the sun had set completely, leaving the woods in deep twilight. When I finally returned to the ranger station, I reported what I had seen. My superiors listened, but offered no explanations. They told me to stay away from that area, their tone leaving no room for argument. I pressed them, asking them what that figure was, and why the forest had changed. But all they would say was that some things were best left alone. As I left the office that night, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was still watching me from the shadows, something that had followed me back from the woods. The faceless man had vanished, but the sense of dread he left behind lingered, a reminder that the park held secrets far darker than I had ever imagined. The warning. It was my first day at a new park, and like any new job, there was a mix of excitement and nerves. I'd been a park ranger for a few years by then, so the basics were familiar, patrolling the trails, helping visitors, keeping an eye on the wildlife. But every park has its quirks, its own set of unspoken rules that you learned over time. This park though, had a reputation. It was more remote with deeper woods and fewer visitors, and I could feel the weight of it as soon as I arrived. The trees seemed to close in tighter, the shadows darker, the air thicker. It was the kind of place where you knew right away that the wilderness had the upper hand. I met with one of the senior rangers earlier in the day, a grizzly, old man named Dave, who had been working at the park for decades. He was the type who wouldn't say much, but when he did, you knew to listen. We were sitting in a small ranger station, going over the usual stuff, patrol routes, emergency procedures, where's the nearest outposts were? But then, as we were wrapping up, Dave leaned in, his expressions serious. There's one more thing that you need to know. He said his voice hello, it's important. I nodded, waiting for him to continue. If you're out in the woods and you hear the sound of children laughing, he said, never follow it. The warning caught me off guard. Children laughing, I asked, trying to make sense of it. What do you mean? Dave didn't smile, he didn't even blink. Just what I said. If you hear kids laughing out there, you turn around and go the other way. Don't try to find them, don't investigate, just leave. But why? I asked, genuinely puzzled. What's out there? He shook his head slowly. I don't know, I've never followed the sound that I don't plan to, but that's the rule here. And it's been the rule for as long as I've been working in this park. There was a tension in his voice that I couldn't ignore, a seriousness that made the hairs on my neck stand up. This wasn't just a piece of advice. It was a warning that carried the weight of year. It was a warning that carried the weight of years of experience. Who made the rule? I asked, still trying to understand. Dave sighed, leaning back in his chair. Another ranger told me when I first started, just like I'm telling you. He said he knew someone who didn't follow the rule and that person went missing, never came back. The room felt colder suddenly, the air heavier. I looked at Dave, searching his face for any sign that he was messing with me, some kind of initiation prank for the new guy. But there was nothing there except grim resolve. Look, he said, I don't know what's out there and I don't care to find out. All I know is this rule has been around longer than I have and I'm still here because I've followed it. You do the same and you'll be fine. His words hung in the air, the finality of it sinking in. There was no doubt in his voice, no room for an argument. This was one of those rules you didn't question, you just accepted it and hoped you never had to put it to the test. I nodded slowly, letting the warning settle in. All right, I said, I'll remember that. Dave gave a kurt nod, satisfied that I understood. Good, he said, that's all you need to know. (speaking in foreign language) (speaking in foreign language) - It is Ryan here and I have a question for you. What do you do when you win? Like are you a fist pumper? A woo hoo, a hand clap or a high fiver. If you want to hone in on those winning moves, check out Chumba Casino. Choose from hundreds of social casino style games for your chance to redeem serious cash prizes. There are new game releases weekly plus free daily bonuses. So don't wait, start having the most fun ever at Chumba Casino.com. - Sponsored by Chumba Casino, no purchase necessary. VGW group, void were prohibited by law, 18 plus terms and conditions apply. - We didn't talk much after that. I headed out for my first patrol, the usual first day excitement doled by the weight of Dave's warning. As I walked the trails, the trees seemed taller, the shadows more profound, and every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig made me jump. As I left the station that day, Dave's warning echoed in my mind. The forest, once a place of beauty and tranquility, now felt different, darker, more foreboding, as if it was hiding something just out of sight. And somewhere in the depths of those woods was the sound of children laughing, a sound I hoped I would never hear. But of course, I did hear it, twice in fact. The first time I was on a routine patrol deep in the forest's heart. It was a late afternoon, the sun started to dip below the treetops, casting long shadows across the trail. I was alone, the silence of the woods only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. And then, faint but unmistakable, I heard a child's laughter. At first, I wasn't sure. It was so soft, almost like it was carried on in the wind, but there was no mistaking the sound. My heart started to race, and a cold sweat broke out of the back of my neck. I stopped on my tracks. Every instinct, telling me to turn back and get out of there as fast as possible. The laughter continued, growing slightly louder, and with it came a wave of anxiety so intense it felt like a physical blow. My chest tightened, my breathing grew shallow, and before I knew it, I was running, running back to the ranger station, desperate to put as much distance between myself and that sound as possible. When I got back, I didn't stop. I went straight to the small storage closet in the back of the station, locked the door behind me and sank to the floor. I stayed there for what felt like hours, shaking, crying, overwhelmed by a fear I could not fully understand. It wasn't just the sound, it was something deeper, something primal that had been triggered by that innocent yet horribly wrong laughter. It took a long time for me to compose myself enough to leave that closet and even longer to convince myself that I could go back into those woods. But eventually, I did. The second time I heard the laughter, it was late in the evening, I was finishing my shift, and the park was quiet as a sun dipped below the horizon. I was heading back to my vehicle when I heard it again, that faint eerie sound of children laughing. This time, it was distant, almost like it was coming off the far side of the park. But even so, that same overwhelming dread washed over me. I didn't run this time, but I didn't stick around either. I got in my truck, drove straight home and didn't look back. That night, I seriously considered quitting my job and finding work somewhere far away from these woods and whatever was hiding within them. But I didn't. I convinced myself to stay, to push the fear aside and keep going. Maybe it was pride, or perhaps it was just stubbornness, but I wasn't ready to let this laughter drive me away. (birds chirping) Still, every time I set foot in that park, Dave's warning is never far from my mind. And though I've only heard that laughter twice, it's something I'll never forget. It's a reminder that some things in the woods are better left alone and that there are places where even the most seasoned ranger knows not the tread. The moving ranger station. This next memory is taken from an old journal I used back in the day. There's one ranger station in the park that doesn't seem to follow the rules of reality. It's not something you'd notice right away, at least, not unless you were paying very close attention. For the most part, it's just another small wooden building tucked away in a remote corner of the park. A place where rangers can rest, store gear, and wait out bad weather. Nothing unusual about it at first glance. But something isn't quite right about this station. I've heard stories from the other rangers, stories that seem almost too strange to be true, but the longer that I've worked here, the more I've come to believe them. The station doesn't stay in one place. It moves, shifting its location within the park without anyone realizing it. And the really strange part? You don't even notice it when it happens. No one does. Not unless you're inside it when it moves. It took us a long time to figure this out because when you're out in the forest heading back to the station, you just arrive. You might think you're backtracking the way you come, retracing your steps, but the truth is, you're not. The station pulls you in, guiding you subconsciously so you always find it, no matter where it is moved to. It's as if the station knows where you are and makes sure you find it, like some kind of homing beacon. The realization that the station moved didn't come until one day when a ranger named Mike was inside when it happened. He had been on a solo patrol, one of those long shifts that takes you deep into the more remote parts of the park. The weather was turning and he had decided to hold up in the station until the storm passed. Everything seemed normal. The station was quiet. The wind was picking up outside and Mike was just sitting at the small wooden desk, making some notes into a logbook. He didn't feel anything strange. No rumbling, no shifting. Nothing that would make you think that the building had moved. But when he opened the door to leave, everything was different. He wasn't where he had been when he arrived. The trees outside weren't the same. The trail that should have led back to the main path was gone and the landmark he had used to navigate were nowhere to be seen. He had been inside the station for a couple of hours, but in that time, it had moved, shifted to another part of the park entirely. Mike was confused at first, thinking maybe he had just gotten turned around. But the more he looked, the more he realized he was in a completely different place. He radioed in, trying to figure out what was going on, but the signal was patchy and all he could hear was static and faint voices. Eventually, he started walking, trying to find his way back to the familiar ground. And after what felt like hours, he did. But by then, he was miles away from where he should have been. When Mike finally made it back to the central station, he told the rest of us what had happened. At first, we didn't believe him. How could a whole building just up and move without anyone noticing? But the more we thought about it, the more it made sense. We had all experienced this strange, almost magnetic pull towards the station, that feeling of always finding it, no matter how lost you were. But we never really thought about it. We just all assumed that we were good at navigation and that the station was where it was supposed to be. But it wasn't true. It never was. And the more we talked about it, the more we realized that it was probably the one, the more we realized that it had probably been moving for years, maybe even longer than any of us have been working in the park and none of us had noticed. The station isn't dangerous. At least not that I've seen. It's just unsettling. Knowing that it could move without you realizing it, that it could change locations and the blink of an eye makes you wonder what else in this park might not be as it seems. It makes you question the ground you're standing on, the paths you walk and the places you think you know. Now, whenever I use that station, I can't help but feel a little on edge, always wondering if it'll move while I'm inside. And every time I step out the door, there's a moment of hesitation before I look around, checking to see if I'm still where I started. So far I've been lucky, but I know it's only a matter of time before the station decides to move again. And when it does, who knows where it'll take me. The hidden room. (birds chirping) It was a crisp autumn day when I came across the door. I was deep in the forest, patrolling a part of the park that didn't see many visitors. The trees were thick here. Their leaves just started the turn, casting a golden light across the undergrowth. (upbeat music) (speaking in foreign language) - How to have fun. Anytime. Anywhere. Step one, go to Chumbukasino.com. - Chumbukasino.com. Got it. - Step two, collect your welcome bonus. - Come to top a welcome bonus. - Step three, play hundreds of casino style games for free. - That's a lot of games, all for free. - Step four, unleash your excitement. - Woo hoo. - Chumbukasino has been delivering thrills for over a decade. So claim your free welcome bonus now and live the Chumbulife. Visit Chumbukasino.com. (speaking in foreign language) - The air was cool, filled with the scent of earth and pine and the only sound was the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. As I walked, something unusual caught my eye. A patch of ground that seemed slightly at a place. The earth was disturbed, not in a way you would expect from an animal or even human activity, but as if something was deliberately hidden beneath the surface. I moved closer and brushed away the leaves and dirt, revealing an old, weathered wooden door set into the ground. The door was small, just big enough for one person to squeeze through and it had a rusty metal handle. It looked ancient. The kind of thing you would expect to see in a fairy tale, hidden away in a forgotten corner of the world. Curiosity got the better of me and I reached down the pole, the door open. It creaked loudly as I swung it upwards, revealing a narrow set of stairs leaning down into the earth. A warm dim light glowed from below, inviting and yet unnerving in its unexpectedness. I hesitated for a moment, then stepped on to the stairs and began to descend, my boots echoing softly on the stone steps. When I reached the bottom, I found myself in a small underground room, a living room to be exact. The place was cozy and surprisingly well preserved as if it had been frozen in time. The walls were covered in floral wallpaper, faded but still vibrant, and the floor was a check board of black and white tiles. A large overstuffed armchair sat in the corner and in front of it, an old black and white television flickered softly, though there was no sound. The room was filled with a kind of cozy charm that you would expect from an old family home. Knickknacks on the shelves, a knitted blanket draped over the arm of the chair in a small coffee table set with a teacup and saucer, as if someone had just stepped out for a moment. The air was warm and smelled faintly of lavender, and the only other lights came from the small shaded lamp on the side table. Despite the strangeness of finding such a place buried underground in the middle of the forest, the room didn't feel threatening. In fact, it felt welcoming, like a place where time had stopped and the worries of the world couldn't reach. I wandered around the room, marveling at the details, the old magazines stacked neatly on the table, the framed photos on the mantel showing smiling faces from decades past and the gentle hum of the television in the background. But as I explored, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. There was no one else in the room, yet I had the distinct impression that someone or something was watching me. It wasn't a threatening presence, more like the feeling you get when you're in a room full of memories where the past lingers just out of sight. I sat down in the armchair and for a moment, I let myself relax, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the room. The chair was soft and worn, the kind of chair that had seen years of use, and as I leaned back, I could almost hear the distant echoes of conversations, laughter, and the clinking of teacups. But the longer I stayed, the more I began to notice the oddities. The television screen flickered with images that didn't seem to match the era of the room, brief flashing scenes of places I didn't recognize, people who didn't belong. The photographs on the mantel seemed to change slightly when I wasn't looking, the faces shifting in ways that made me question if they were the same people I had seen before. And then there was the door. When I glanced back up at the staircase, I realized the door above was still open, but now the light filtering down seemed different, almost dimmer. A faint whisper of unease crept into my mind and I felt a sudden overwhelming urge to leave. I stood up, the chair creaking softly as I did and made my way back to the stairs. As I reached the bottom step, I hesitated, glancing back at the room one last time. It was still as charming and cozy as before, but there was something else now, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. The warmth felt a little too warm, the stillness a little too heavy and the air seemed to hum with a silent tension. With a deep breath, I climbed the stairs and stepped back out into the fresh air of the forest. The cool breeze hit me like a splash of cold water and I realized just how tense I had been. I looked down at the open door and for a moment, I considered closing it, sealing the room away again. But something stopped me. Instead, I left the door open, marking the spot on my mind before walking away, leaving the hidden room to rest beneath the earth. As I moved away through the forest, I couldn't shake the feeling that the room was still there, waiting for someone else to find it. These stories aren't meant to scare you, though some might find them unsettling. There's simply a reminder that the world is full of wonders, both beautiful and strange. And as long as I am here, I keep watching, listening and respecting the unknown. I've got plenty more tales to tell, but those will have to wait for another time. These parks are vast and their secrets are endless. Until then, I'll be out here enjoying retirement. So stay curious and remember, sometimes it's the mysteries that make the journey worthwhile. I'll be back with more stories soon enough. After all, the parks never stopped surprising me. (birds chirping) (upbeat music) (speaking in foreign language) - This is Ashley, I can add you from the bend and Ashley, I almost say this podcast. Did you know that future health can help make weight loss resolutions come true? When it's about biology and not willpower, it's not your fault that dieting just doesn't work. Find out if weight loss meds are right for you in just three minutes and for less than $3 a day. Eight out of 10 users say that using future health programs is more effective than anything they have ever tried. 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Chumbagocino's home to hundreds of casino-style games that you can play for free anytime, anywhere. So sign up now at Chumbagocino.com to claim your free welcome bonus at Chumbagocino.com and live the Chumbalife. Sponsored by Chumbagocino, no purchase necessary. VGW Group, voidware prohibited by law, 18 plus terms and conditions apply.