Ouija board session in the tent leads to unexpected growling in the darkness. 🥾🔥 Is it just the wilderness playing tricks, or something more? Watch as bushcraft meets the paranormal in this chilling camping adventure! Bushcrafting and Ghost Hunting 🏕️👻
The Whispering Forest
Late one summer evening, Eric found himself deep in the heart of the wilderness, miles away from civilization. He was an experienced camper, but this trip was different. He wasn’t here to hike or fish but rather he had brought one peculiar item with him—a Ouija board.
The idea came from a drunken dare with his friends. “If ghosts are real, let’s see if you can call one out in the middle of nowhere,” they’d said. Eric, confident nothing supernatural existed, accepted the challenge.
That night, under the canopy of stars, Eric pitched his tent in a clearing surrounded by towering pines. This forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the cool breeze. Inside his tent, he placed the Ouija board on the ground, lit a single candle, and set his camera to record.
“Alright, spirits of the forest,” he said mockingly. “If you’re real, come out and talk to me!”
The planchette felt cold as his fingers rested on it, and for a long while, nothing happened. The forest outside remained unnervingly silent. Then, just as he was about to give up, the candle flickered violently. A gust of cold air swept through the tent, extinguishing the flame.
Eric laughed nervously and relit the candle, “Okay, maybe the wind’s playing games,” he muttered.
He placed his fingers back on the planchette. “Is anyone here?”
The planchette began to move. Slowly at first, then faster, sliding to YES.
Eric’s laughter froze in his throat. “What’s your name?”
The planchette spelled out: W-H-I-S-P-E-R.
A chill ran down Eric’s spine. He swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
The response came quickly: L-I-S-T-E-N.
Eric’s breath quickened. “Listen to what?” he whispered.
The planchette stopped moving. Suddenly, the silence outside the tent was broken by a faint whispering sound that from the forest, growing louder and louder, surrounding the tent like an unseen chorus.
Eric scrambled for his flashlight and unzipped the tent, stepping into the moonlit clearing. The whispers continued, incomprehensible yet urgent, as though dozens of voices were speaking at once. His flashlight flickered and died.
Heart pounding, Eric spun around, trying to locate the source of the voices when all of a sudden he saw it. At the edge of the clearing, just beyond the tree line, a shadowy figure stood motionless. It was tall and human-like, but its limbs seemed unnaturally long, and its head tilted at an impossible angle.
“Who’s there?” Eric shouted, his voice trembling.
The whispers stopped. The forest fell deathly silent.
The figure stepped closer, and Eric could now see its eyes—black voids that seemed to pull the light from the world around them. He stumbled backward, tripping over the edge of the tent. The camera inside continued recording as Eric’s screams pierced the night.
The next morning, a group of hikers found his campsite and the tent was shredded, and the Ouija board lay untouched in the center, the planchette resting on G-O-N-E.
Eric was nowhere to be found.
The camera was still recording and the last frame showed Eric staring into the lens, his eyes wide with terror, and a faint whisper in the background: “Listen…”
To this day, no one knows what happened to Eric, but locals warn campers to stay away from the Whispering Forest. They say if you listen closely at night, you can still hear the voices calling out, waiting for someone foolish enough to answer.
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