Nov 21

I Thought There Was A Murderer In The Woods

A listener writes “I am 28 years old, and this story happened when I was about 17 or 18. Two friends of mine and myself, who lived in Phoenix, went on a backpacking trip into the woods of Sedona, Arizona. If you know anything about Sedona, it is known as a supernatural hotspot. From orbs to UFOs to bigfoot sightings, Sedona seems to attract that kind of behavior.

I am sorry but I do not recall where exactly we went backpacking within Sedona.

On this backpacking trip, myself and my other friend were armed; he had his AR-15, and I had a .22 long rifle that he had lent me for this trip.

Hiking along, we decided to go off the trail in order to go deeper into the woods. We had not encountered any hikers that day that I recall, but we wanted to ensure our seclusion.

I should also say that we were not exactly in the middle of nowhere; I remember I still had cell phone service. And, in the far distance, atop of a hill no less than several miles away, I remember I could see a house. Outside of that, however, I think we would be considered “in the woods” by anybody’s standards, especially when we left the trail. I mention this only to include the possibility of pranksters who lived “near by,” and also to insinuate that though we didn’t see anybody, it didn’t necessarily mean we were alone.

At sunset, we found a clearing about 10 yards from a very wide creek. It was a roaring creek, I remember it being loud.

We set up camp, and the three of us, each with our own tent, made a half circle around the fire. When it was bedtime, we each rolled into our separate tents. I, however, could not sleep, so I laid there in mine. I had probably been laying there for an hour, maybe two, when suddenly I heard a huge splash in the water.

I froze.

I had just heard what must have been a large boulder being thrown into the creek. To be clear, it did not roll, it was thrown. Several moments later, I heard another large rock being thrown into the water. Then another and another.

To give you an idea of the size of these rocks, imagine throwing a pebble into a pool. That makes a certain splash. A rock the size of your hand would make a little bit more of a splash, and so on. By my estimation, myself being 6’1, I figure these rocks must have been about as big around as if I had made a circle with my arms in front of me, my fingertips touching together.

It was terrifying from the first splash, and increasingly so with each subsequent one because I had no idea how long it would go on for. I was not thinking bigfoot at that moment. Instead I remember thinking there was a murderer in the woods.

When the splashing stopped (after about 4 or 5 throws) I finally worked up the courage just to sit up in my tent and look out the foggy window built into the rain fly. Of course it was pitch black outside; I could not see anything, and the foggy window did not help. I had left the rifle by the creek leaning up against a tree; I would have to make a run for it. Before I did, I whispered to both of my friends in their separate tents. The one friend moved in his tent, but fell back asleep. My other friend, with the AR-15, responded and I told him what he had apparently missed. I told him I was going to make a run for the rifle.

I was terrified.


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