Scary horror stories

The Watcher in the Woods

Darren loved the quiet of the countryside, far removed from the chaos of city life. It was why he’d moved to the old farmhouse, despite its creaking floors and drafty windows. He enjoyed the open spaces, the distant tree line that bordered his property, and the soft rustling of leaves at night.

It was on one of these quiet nights that he first saw the light. He'd been dozing off on the couch, a book slipping from his fingers, when a flicker caught his eye through the window. A distant glow in the woods, almost like a lantern. At first, he dismissed it as a hunter or maybe a camper. But when the light returned the next night, then the next, it started to bother him.

Darren took his binoculars to get a better look. The light was stationary, deeper in the woods than any hunter would normally go. It flickered irregularly, casting long shadows through the dense trees. He could swear he saw figures moving in the dim glow, but he couldn't be sure.

He mentioned it to his neighbor, an older man who’d lived in the area for decades. The neighbor's expression grew dark. "Stay out of those woods at night," he warned. "There are things out there you don't want to see."

The cryptic warning only fueled Darren's curiosity. The next night, he grabbed a flashlight and ventured into the woods. The light appeared again, always ahead of him, drawing him deeper. The trees seemed to close in around him, the sounds of the night growing distant.

As he moved through the trees, he stumbled upon a small clearing. In the center stood a tall, leafless tree, its branches gnarled and twisted. Hanging from its branches were strange objects—wooden charms, ribbons, and something that looked like a tattered doll. The lantern light swung gently from a branch, casting eerie shadows.

Darren's heart raced. He heard whispers, soft and indistinct, as if carried on the wind. He swung his flashlight around but saw nothing. The whispers grew louder, more urgent, until they became a chorus of voices, pleading, warning, crying out in anguish.

Panic set in. He turned and ran, the flashlight bouncing wildly as he stumbled through the underbrush. The whispers followed him, growing louder, more desperate. When he burst out of the woods and onto his property, the voices ceased, replaced by the normal sounds of the night.

Back at the farmhouse, Darren locked the doors and closed the curtains. The light in the woods didn't appear again. But he never felt truly safe. There were still nights when he heard the faint echoes of whispers, like the distant cries of lost souls. He knew that whatever was in those woods had seen him, and it was only a matter of time before it returned.