Creepy Woods Stories นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I glance around, feeling both lost and bewildered amidst the towering trees and the whispering of unseen creatures. I am in the heart of the lost woods, surrounded by an eerie stillness that hangs heavy in the air. As I prowl through the darkened woods, a deep growl resonates within me, responding to the ominous and potent aura that cloaks the shadows. A sinister smile dances across my lips, a silent expression of gratitude to the moon goddess for sending forth a vessel upon which I can unleash the full extent of my pent-up aggression.

Some even call it the “Bermuda Triangle of Romania.” According to local legends, ghosts and spirits lurk among the crooked trees. One tale tells of a young girl who disappeared into the forest, only to reappear five years later unable to remember where she had been. Another legend speaks of a shepherd who, along with his sheep, vanished within the woods. And, with most places associated with the supernatural, there are also rumors of alien encounters.

The tall trees that barely sway in the spring wind, the quiet chirps and whistles of birds and squirads, the sweet, fresh smell of nature. Cyran and I used to come here when we were little. Just the edge of the woods, though. The older kids poisoned our minds with tales of spindars and giant lizards, the mad croc-genns and shadow walkers. Granted, they were not wrong. But those creatures live on the other side of Quindar, in the forsaken Leftydes. I just wish I had known that years earlier, before the times Cyran and I would bolt from the place at the slightest uncanny sound.

Ghost stories around a bonfire—what could be more suspenseful and playful? Alastair settled down next to me, his hand finding mine. He gave it a reassuring squeeze as he began his tale. "Once, in these very woods, there was a legend of a ghostly figure that would appear every full moon. They say that those who encountered this spirit were granted a wish, but at a great cost..." His words hung in the air, and the pack leaned in closer, their eyes locked on Alastair, captivated by the haunting tale. The crackling of the fire seemed to echo the suspense in the atmosphere.

I managed to get my breathing under control again when loud sirens began sounding in Stermyer and dozens of guards started running out of Stermyertina. Coming in by plane made it difficult because now I really didn’t know how to get out of here. I looked around me and saw an opportunity in the woods. In all the werewolf books that I’ve read and movies that I’ve watched I saw how werewolves always attack their prey in the woods…, even Red Riding Hood was attacked in the woods by a wolf but in my situation, the woods seemed to be the only place where I could go. Forest and woods are normally the borders of towns like this so if I travel far enough in the deep, dark woods I might find another t

Xavier wondered how they had not even caught her by her scent and then he quickly remembered that she was also a Damon and they knew how to hide their scents. “Should we check inside?” one of them asked. “I don’t think so,” another grunted. “I’ve heard lots of terrible legends about cabins in the middle of the woods. Most of them have been said to be possessed by evil witches and once you get in, you are cursed and you can’t get out again.”

It takes time, effort, and even threats before she finally confesses what she overheard. “His Majesty mentioned Howling Woods while talking to a royal guard named Yael,” she says. Howling Woods?! It’s a dangerous forest where unseen predators, like orcs and ogres, may be residing according to legend. That’s also where the corpses of the kingdom's most notorious criminals are being dumped as offerings to those orcs and ogres, so they won’t need to get out of that forest to hunt for food. Everyone tells me not to come, but I refuse. I can’t stay here to just wait and do nothing!

Here, the silence pressed against my ears, amplifying the sound of my heartbeat. I checked the time on my phone. 7:45 PM. My contact, a local blogger named Chris, had promised to meet me tomorrow morning. According to him, people had gone missing near the edge of the woods—folks who’d ventured too far into what locals called The Deadwood. I smirked at the name; small towns loved their creepy folklore. Still, missing people wasn't a joke. I came here for answers, and I’d find them. I grabbed my notepad and sat cross-legged on the bed. My boots left small smudges of dirt on the ugly floral blanket, but I didn’t care. I flipped through my notes, skimming over scribbled dates and statements from

The wolves had gathered close, along with the trolls and ogres who had joined their quest. They sat in a circle, and it was Tara who broke the silence, her voice steady but low as she began telling a story. “There’s a legend about these woods,” she started, her eyes glinting in the firelight. “They say that in the deepest parts of the forest, where the trees are so tall they block out the sky, there are shadows. Not ordinary shadows, but the remnants of warriors who lost their way. They wander endlessly, looking for the chosen one to guide them, but if you don’t answer their call… they’ll take you with them, and you’ll never leave the forest.”

I stumbled into the forest, vanishing into its depths. On the first night, I encountered a vampire. Drawn by the chaos of war, it lingered in the woods, waiting for the scent of wolf blood. I barely managed to climb a tree, while below, it clawed at the trunk, screeching as it tried to reach me.