"There is Something Stalking A Campsite In Tennessee" Bicycle Touring Scary Story - Creepypasta

So. Last summer I decided I want to ride my bike across the state of Tennessee. I started. In Memphis the, westernmost, point, of the state after crossing the mighty Mississippi. River on Bridgeport. Road and. I ended up in flagged pond the easternmost, point, now. On Google, Maps it says, you could bike from Memphis, the flag pond, in two days in two hours but, don't. Believe that unless. You're not planning on stopping to rest eat or even, take a leak you know, well, it, doesn't work out that way if you're staying at secluded, campsites, you. See most. Of the campsites, I stayed at weren't, even listed on Google Maps. Didn't. Matter much anyway, I had. Planned on taking my whole summer just biking. Clearing. My head and enjoying. The scenery. Now. I live in greasy, corner Arkansas. Down. Next to 15 mile Bayou my. Hometown is small to, say the least, and, all those kids always talked about getting out to see the world someday, only. Thing was, well. None. Of us had the money to do it and. That's the thing about small, towns, some, of them are just like live animal. Traps. Easy. To get into but impossible, to, escape, there's. Just no getting out and to, those of us born there, that's. What. We felt like anyway. But. I had figured out early on that my bike could take me places and. I didn't have to worry about having, a lot of money to travel my. Cousins live in Mississippi, and the year before I, had bike the zig-zag pattern across. That state it. Was great and the, people in the small towns along the way were mostly. Nice they. Gave me directions the campsites, that were local and secluded and. I used up my entire summer, part, of the fall that year bouncing, from Camp to camp working. Odd jobs for. A little cash. The way, now. My family thinks I'm crazy and. They keep telling me I'm going to get killed out in some nowhere. Location. I guess. They think a serial, killer or murderer, on the loose will, be interested, in a lone biker his possessions. Can be carried in a worn out backpack, you. Know I don't know I mean, I guess they are, sometimes. You hear about it but I never, worried about it, but. With. My previous experience, being so good I had, no doubt that my Tennessee, crossing, would be anything less, than great, and it. Was great from Memphis, the flag pond, of. Course the mountains in East Tennessee did, give me more trouble physically. Than I had anticipated, and. I had to stop far more, often, to rest than I was accustomed to, scenery. Was worth it though they. Were breathtaking, views, from the summit's of the mountains and, lush valleys, with fields, of wildflowers and. Blooming, trees just. Made me wish for a home there someday. However. The. Trip back toward, home was different, I, didn't. Take the same route I never, did the. Whole point was to see as much of the state as possible. And. On my way down from flag pond I stopped. That a little hostile in a place called chest Allah. Erwin. Was the city but, it, reminded, me of back home it. Was a small town trying to be a city and feeling, and, not that I disliked, the place small, towns are kind of my thing, I was. Taking a meal at the hostel when some of the 80 hikers. Started, talking, about the off trail campsites, that I might like to visit when. I told them that I wanted to see the note Chucky's River they. Told me about Jonesboro. It. Sounded like the kind of place I would enjoy, I, could say that Bogart's, Hill part. Of highway 81 south should. Never have been marked, as a bike, route that. Was possibly, one of the scariest roads I've ever been on with a bike it. Twists, and turns it's. Uphill is so steep, you can barely pedal, across to the downhill, side which. Swings, right. Long steep, curve, that, follows the bend in the nola Truckee River, that. Steve curve is called The Devil's looking-glass. Curve, there's. A sheer rock face, across, the river that's easily, seen from the road and I had seen many pictures of it before there.

Was Also a small graveyard. Just off the side of that curve I had. To wonder if those were the graves of people who lost their lives while biking, on that part of the road. Wishing. I hadn't listened to the hikers and not daring to go back the way I had come I got. Off the road at an abandoned. Store next to Deakin Creek Road and rested. In the shade of the defunct business, the. Semis roared, past the, speeds far exceeding, the limit for safe travel, on that narrow strip and. I was seriously considering, staying, where I was for the rest of the day and overnight a couple. Of near misses with Peterbilts. And Mac trucks had taken all the brave right out of me, an. Older man stopped, his pickup, at the end of Deacon Road and saw, me sitting in the shade with my bike he. Waved and I waved back and. Instead of turning into the main road he, steered into the parking lot and rolled, up to where I said. Yes. Everything. Was okay I told. Him just biking, across the state back home to Arkansas. Does. This road widen, out anywhere in that direction and. I pointed the way I had, been headed I told. Him quickly where I was hoping to go to camp for the night it, sure does just. About eight hundred to a thousand, feet in that direction is, Arnold, Road and just, past that is the new member Vale bridge the. Road widens, and you'll have room to pedal in the breakdown lay it all the way to the old Chucky's, Trading Post I think. It's called a river park campground, now where. You could go down to the ponds pass cross roads store I, thanked. Him and he drove off toward urban, with. Traffic, still nine kinds, of crazy I opted. For pushing, my bike along the bottoms of people's, yards and stopping, at a small church parking lot. Arnold. Road was directly in front of me and the, bridge the old man had, me about was just past it the, bike lane was nice and wide but. The bike route was marked on Arnold, Road where, I saw no bike lane at all, I also. Saw no traffic coming, or going onto that road in. The end I chose Arnold. Road it. Was even scarier than the last road even though there was barely any traffic, the. Rock cliffs, pushed, in close on me am i right and the other side of the road was, a drop-off to the NOLA Truckee, River several. Yards below I, pedaled. As fast as I could, hoping, to find a suitable destination. Before nightfall. When. I came to a fork in the roads I followed, my instincts, veered. To the right I had. My phone and therefore, my Google Maps could lead me out if I happen to get lost enough, to need it and, I passed the sign that said única. Forestry. Products, the, sawmill, of some kind and then, I saw a sign that read Dry Creek Road and soon I was, on a mountain road where, there were no homes no, signs of towns nothing. But mountains on either side of the pavement, and the, only sounds, were the ones made by me the, wildlife, in the, occasional, cars that passed me I. Kept. Seeing places where I could get off the road that looked like little trails some. Look like motorcycle. Or bike trails and, others looked like game trails it. Was getting late so I took a chance and hit one of the larger, water trails, there. Was barely enough room on it for me to ride but it, was fun and it was adventurous, and the.

Adrenaline, Pumping through my veins. Exhilarated. Me, at. The top of the hill the, trail split, into three different directions, again. I chose, that random, and went with it the, trail led to a wide long, field, of tall grass, no. Trees or undergrowth. Just. Tall grass, blowing, in the wind I searched. For the trail and found an old gravel, road instead, it, skirted, the field and. I wonder where the hell I'd ended up, past. The weathered concrete. And cinderblock, building and. I could tell by the smell coming, from it that, it was a bathroom facility. But I hadn't. Seen a recreation. Area yet. Several. Hundred feet past, the bathroom there. Was a huge, beautiful, pond shimmering. In the Midsummer's, Evening Sun there. Was also another camper, at the pond fishing. With one reel in his hand and three. Lined up on the shore he had, shoved fork sticks in the sand and propped, the reels on them anchoring. The back ends, with large rocks, he. Spun nearly, dropping, the rod and reel in his hands oh you. Scared the hell out of me I thought. You're the game warden, I don't. Have my fishing license, he. Grinned sheepishly, hey. Man that's your business I held, up my hands and laughed are. There any other campers, out of here. No. Just, me as far as I saw I've. Been here a few days and you're the first person I've seen but. Hey this. Is the only free Park around here anymore rest. Of them charge five bucks just to get in he. Grinned. You. Can camp anywhere, you like. Emotion. To include everything. I could see which. Wasn't, much for the thick forest around the place the. Pond seemed to be the most open space, around I, walked. Into the woods and saw several picnic, tables, nestled, into the little man-made alcoves, there. Were fire pits with grill tops for barbecues, with the family, little. Trail was overgrown and large, roots had made it nearly impossible to. Walk without tripping the. Alcoves, had been overtaken by vines and small sapling, trees the. Picnic tables, were covered, in vines, this. Wasn't just a secluded campsite. It. Was the funk no. One had to use this place in several years and. I thought it might have been closed down but there, were no signs and, no chains, nothing. To bar my entry. So. I set up my tent and sleeping, bag a few hundred feet away from mr.. No fishing, license, and. I had no desire to get to know him or even chitchat. With him I just, wanted to have a good view of that beautiful pond. Straight, across to the bathroom facility. It's.

Rare That I stay in a place that actually has a concrete. Bathroom, and I, hate the plastic, porta-johns, in, most places, I mean. Hey you know what it's the small things you learn to appreciate when, you're roughing it in the woods for the summer, the. Smell of honeysuckle hung, thick in the humid evening air, I watched. The sunset from the doorway of my tent as, I ate beans and, beef jerky for, dinner, the. Other guy had built a fire and was roasting, his unlicensed, catch. Smell. Of wood smoke and fish soon overpowered. The honeysuckle clean, scent, I had been enjoying. So. I zipped up my tent and crawled into my sleeping bag just before a fall dark the. Noise of the crickets and tree frogs lulled, me to sleep after, only a few minutes the. Day's ride had, been long and difficult, that. Tired me out more, than I had realized. But. Screams. Loud. Screams. Woke. Me sometime later then, I grabbed my flashlight, the. Scream stopped, as I stepped out of my tent there. Were no sounds at all as I made my way to. The other campers, 10 the. Orange fabric had been shredded, and there was blood everywhere, the. Man's belongings, were, strewn about on, the shore thirty, feet or more and his, dinky little styrofoam, cooler bobbed in the water, the. Floor of the tent was soaked in blood and there, was large dark, spots, in the sand that. I took to be blood as well. Frantic. I searched, the nearby undergrowth, for him but found nothing and then, as I, moved back down toward, the shore I saw, large paw, prints, in the wet sand, dog. Tracks, I was. Certain that's what made those prints, and. I looked back to the tent the, embers of the fire and, remembered, that, he had been cooking fish. Had, a dog come, for the fish and found the man instead had. To only been one dog or, a group, my. Phone was at my tent and, I ran along the shore toward, my camp but, kept looking, back to make sure I wasn't being pursued I, reached. Into the tent and yanked my backpack, out I fumbled, for my phone several, times he were actually getting a hold of it I turned, it on the, back light was blinding in the darkness I hid the phone icon and, waited for the dial pad to appear and punched in 911. Call button I put. The phone into my ear and turned back the scan the shoreline for movement it. Was at this point, across. The pond a set. Of glowing eyes peered. Out at me from the impenetrable, darkness, of the forest. My. Blood froze I. Looked. At my tent and back, to the eyes. The. Dog could easily run, along the edge of my pond and be to my camp within a few seconds. No. Way was I going to hide in my tent after seeing, the other guys. There's. Something strange about the eyes. They. Were far, higher off, the ground. That. A dog's eyes would be I. Stood. And back, toward the uphill, slope toward that concrete, bathroom. The. Eyes disappeared. And reappeared farther. Down the, edge of the pond it. Was moving stealthily, around, the perimeter, my. Phone made no sounds, and when I checked it there. Was no signal. Glowing. Eyes disappeared. And reappeared on, my side of the pond and. That was sooo close for comfort, and. I turned ran to the bathroom jumping. Inside and, slamming, the metal to her shut I slid. The bar lock into place and stood there catching, my breath and, the, rancid, smell of years. Old, waste, gagged, me and. Then I heard heavy breathing, outside. The metal door and. I put my hands against it I didn't. Know how old the, place was or if, the bar lock had rusted, enough to be broken by a hard hit, no. I. Didn't. Even know for sure what. The thing outside the door was. Dog. Wolf. Coyote. Something. Else a man I, didn't. Even know why any of those animals, would act in such a way hunger. Rabies, pure evil I was. Left to my thoughts and guesses, and, then, the bee sneezed, once, and then. Began scratching at the bottom corner of the door it. Was a light scratching, that reminded, me of my aunt's cocker spaniel, scratching, at the door when he needed to go out and pee it. Wasn't anything alarming. Except. That the candid, scratching, at the bathroom door had. Likely just tore a man's tent to shreds and then, killed him and dragged him off. That. Meant the animal had, to have been much larger, than a coyote. So. I had, ruled out that one at least the. Scratching, and snuffling, ceased. And. I heard the gravels, crunching, under the animals feet as he retreated, and. I listened, holding. My breath until I could hear no movement, I sighed. And looked up the. Roof of the bathroom, didn't meet the sinner block wall it. Was set on metal bars that were a foot apart all the way around leaving. At least eight inches or more of space between the top road blocks in the tin roof, the. Top road blocks it was only about six and a half feet high and. That five foot eight well. I could, reach it easily I, turned.

The Metal trash can over and stood on it hunched. Over to see how I, looked. Into the direction of my camp but saw nothing in the darkness. The. Can teeter-totter, dündar my feet and, I grabbed the roof support, bars to keep my balance and. Sun suddenly. There, was fur and claws tearing, at the bar I was holding and, then they were gone I fell. Backwards and hit the broken concrete on my side screaming, in pain as something, cut into my hip the. Animal outside bar. Didn't, yelled and then began, digging at the metal or frenzied. I could, hear his teeth clashing, with the metal handle it. Was a type you pulled down to open the door then. His claws are scraping at the metal and hitting the handle and. On my back, I turned. And put my foot against the door the. Animal hit the door so hard with each down stroke of its paws that. Had jarred me to the top of my head I pressed. The hand on my bleeding hip a shard. Of broken concrete, had, made a puncture, wound the size of my pinky and. Blood poured from it. The. Smell of blood would only heighten the animals frenzy, and. So I tried to stave, it quickly but kept. Pouring. After. A few minutes the, animal, left again I stood. And leaned against, the door the. Corroded sink on the other corner was disgusting. But, I made my way there to check if there is any water of. Course there wasn't, the. Old school metal paper towel holder, hung askew, on its remaining screw, and it was empty the. Roll of eco-friendly toilet. Paper in the stall had, long ago disintegrated. There. Was nothing to help stop the bleeding I, ripped. The sleeve off my t-shirt and watered. It against, the whole than my hip, by. Then blood. Had run down my leg and was pooling under my foot I. Heard. The crunching, of gravel, as, the creature ran toward the bathroom the, thinking he was going to RAM the door like, a scene from Cujo. I braced. Against, it, anticipating. The impact. And. Instead the. Thing leaped and its, enormous, front paws were thrust, through, the openings, above in a. Duct at the wall outside with. Its back claws, but. They found no footing, and the snarling beast fell to the ground. And. Then. I saw. The strangest. Thing ever, I, heard. The slight crunching, sound outside the. Gravel once again. And. I saw its. Face. Here. Through, the opening. It's. Yellow eyes glowing. In the dark. Staring. Right at me. This. Beast was, one. Love, intelligence. I. Was. Shocked. Then. Again, it. Ran away and, it. Charged. Jumping. Into the openings, above, and. This time it, hung on longer, and it snapped at the iron bars. The. Head was that of I don't know, abnormally. Large dog, or wolf with, human-like. Features. The. Only thing I had to defend myself with, was the metal lid to. That old trash can I do. For it grabbed it and started. Smashing, the front legs that jutted through the bars. The. Creature yelped, and pain and fell again it, clawed at the block wall and, growled before, running off again, and, I thought it would surely stop its attack, but. It didn't it. Went back to the door handle and clawed at it until the only thing keeping, it out was, the slide lock i thrashed.

The Door with the lid thinking, the noise would drive it away again. I was wrong it. Only seemed to incite him to further rage the. Lock was sturdy but, the old metal eye on the wall was ready to fall off and. Under the force of another vicious attack, it. Would pop off and give that thing access, to my little haven of safety, I had. No choice but to stand there bracing the door as the thing attacked the handle repeatedly. When. He stopped that time there. Was a longer period of silence before, he came back, some. Of the viciousness had, ebbed out of his attack and then, I heard him flopped down against. The door panting. I think. The last attack was a Hail Mary attempt. At the door handle, that lasted only a few minutes but. Man. It. Felt like forever. And. At that point the, Sun had begun to rise. That. Meant I could see outside if, I climbed up on the trashcan again, but I couldn't. Leave the door, with. Sunrise came, the accompanying, noise of birds, thousands. Of twittering, singsong, II noisy, some, birds, and. I'd never wished death on anything until that moment I, wish. Every bird in earshot would, just drop dead I could. Hear nothing but them. Now. After an hour of bird song and. Birds. Flying, into, and out of the openings, above my head, well. I got. Brave enough to crack. The door and look out. The. Animal wasn't their thing. Or whatever the hell it was I, locked. The door again and climbed up onto the trash can and I saw the animal, part, man. Disappearing. Into a thicket on the other side of the pond. It. Was my only chance, well. Maybe, my only chance my. Bike was at the camp, and I. Was not going back there to risk the creature seeing, me. Barefoot. And with nothing but the clothes I wore I, sneaked. Out of the bathroom and ran back the way I had come I didn't. Stop running until I came upon the sign for the forestry, products, again I hope, that was far enough away from the animal, to be safe. But. Anyway. I, won't. Be biking across any more States for a while I think. I'll stay at my home my. Mousetrap. Of a hometown and. Watch sunsets from the safety, of my own home from now on. You.

2019-05-07 16:14

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