A terrible trip. Incident on a hike The worst horror stories on a hike

One of my acquaintances, a mountain hiker, told me this story.
Further from the narrator's perspective:

We moved from the village to the mountains. It was a wonderful day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing. A kilometer from the village we found strawberry thickets, ate our fill and moved on. On the first day we conquered one peak (it was very difficult to climb). Our guide showed us from the top of Hoverla on the horizon, showed us the Montenegrin ridge and in which direction Transylvania is located. We went down at about five o'clock, took a break below, and, happy and well-fed, went on. Here it must be said that it gets dark quite quickly in the mountains, as soon as the sun sets behind the mountains. It was getting towards evening, we were walking along one of the ridges and decided that we needed to look for a place to spend the night. Below, to our left, an almost bare slope began, and then it was quite dark and dense Pine forest. In general, we collected firewood, lit a fire, and set up tents. The girls prepared dinner and we all ate together. We made some tea (ordinary black tea in the mountains with the addition of herbs is something) and began to tell stories. Meanwhile, the sun had already set and the sky was overcast, although the sun had been shining all day. Well, we told a few stories by the fire and gradually began to disperse to our tents. I went down to the forest to relieve myself before going to bed. Downstairs, when I turned off the flashlight, I already felt uneasy. It's a very creepy feeling when you're standing in the dark all around you. ancient forest, and you constantly listen and peer into the darkness (though, when you turn on a flashlight, it gets even worse, because you only see tree trunks, the light of the flashlight doesn’t penetrate further, but anyone in the forest can see you perfectly).
So, I returned to my tent and climbed into it. I talked with the girls some more, then they decided that it was time to go to bed, they turned off the flashlight, they lay down, but no one could sleep. Here, somewhere else, lightning flashed and the rain began to beat on the tarpaulin of the tent in large drops. One of the girls whined quietly, I calmed her down, rolled over and tried to fall asleep. But then I heard footsteps. Of course, at first I thought that it was one of our people (there were three of us in tents) who went outside, but the steps... they were too heavy. It was as if someone very large was slowly moving from foot to foot. And walked around our tents. I pulled the ax closer to me and was very glad that our tent had a “dressing room”. In general, I don’t know how long these steps continued, but in the end sleep overcame fear and I fell asleep. The next morning it turned out that everyone heard the steps, but no one left the tents. Everyone lay there and was afraid. It was a terrible night...

This story happened in the city of N with my friends, who, in fact, have been hanging around dungeons for quite a long time and are very experienced in this. As is usually done, I will call them by fictitious names - Kirill and Sasha.
Please note that these dungeons are not just like that, but were dug back in tsarist times, older and more terrible than the industrial abandoned Moscow metro stations.
We have all sorts of stories about underground passages - true, only in the circles of such “stalkers”, but the guys talk about it with such an ordinary, everyday attitude. And they say all sorts of horrors, to be honest.
I don’t believe in everything, but I do believe, although I haven’t gone on such “travels” myself and don’t intend to, not only because it’s dangerous, but also because of my own laziness and topographical cretinism; although curiosity played a role more than once, and I was even once planning to sign up as a beginner, but it didn’t work out, alas.
I myself love to listen to the guys’ stories after their walks; they told, as I mentioned, a lot, but this story, although it did not greatly impress me, suits you very well.
They, Sasha and Kira with their friends, were preparing for their next trip through the catacombs very carefully. I never noticed anything missing from their equipment. In general, experienced guys for whom even a woodpecker like me would not become a burden.
And so, after they returned, perhaps a day later, I, who had promised to give them beer on the way, kept my word, got ready for the guys’ arrival, grabbed some chips and alcohol. Finally, he waited and called someone else from the company. But this time the guys started telling stories only when they were drunk, when they wanted to chat more.
So, departing from the preface, I will begin to describe the actions of the campaign itself.
Everything was going well, no landslides, no harmful natural gases, even boring. There were no new people, so everyone walked smoothly, but they still went to familiar places. And, surprisingly, they entered moldy, shabby places. We went back - they couldn’t find the way, they only got more lost. There were no altercations between them (after all, there were 5 people), so they began to think about what to do next. They stood still - the flashlights began to blink, as if the batteries were running low. From everyone at the same time, oddly enough, although almost everyone took batteries from different companies, at different prices, each to their own, as they say, and even took spare ones. Damn it, they thought, they started to panic little by little, they started walking back again - the flashlights started working normally. They walk and walk, they come to the same place, they stand there, the flashlights are flashing. We went in a circle from where we came. As soon as they stop, the flashlights begin to blink. So they wandered for an hour, if not more - and maybe they are exaggerating - but the fact is that they finally smelled fresh air, and not this earthly dampness. We went further, and there was a failed arch, and it failed so well that one or two times I crawled out. They were walking towards her, they were almost there, the lights started flashing, and Sanya was infuriated by this, he started shaking the flashlight in different directions, hitting it on his palm, suddenly the whole team turns to look at him, looking dumbfounded, and the flashlight is blinking and blinking.
Well, he didn’t pay attention right away - only then did he calm down when Kira besieged him. Moreover, he almost jumped when he realized that he was standing on the door, from under which his burnt hand was sticking out.
The team removed the door, and under it was the body of a girl - they say it was three or two days old, completely burned. Of course, they didn’t call the police; they themselves, one might say, illegally entered the tunnels, and the corpse remained there. The guys climbed out into a small field between different districts of the city, walked towards the road, and the flashlights blinked for another hundred meters if they were on.

Kir is not so impressionable, he said that it was a coincidence, but Sashka then dreamed about this girl for a long time, he even stopped going on hikes, went to church a couple of times, but then he started drinking, went on a spree and dropped out of his fourth year of university. I don’t know whether this is connected with that incident, but Kirill continued to walk through the dungeons - fortunately, nothing happened to him yet.

In childhood, on summer holidays My brother and I were often sent to our grandmother in the village. He was located quite far from the city. And it was located almost under the mountains. Let me clarify that I live in Central Asia, and our mountains are very powerful and beautiful. So, my brother and I didn’t really find any friends there, mostly old people lived there, all the young people moved to the city. My brother and I had only one local friend there - a peer who knew a little Russian. His name was Boloshka.

Such a funny boy, he always ran to his grandmother and invited my brother and me to play. And so, we once decided, the three of us, to go on a hike to the mountains and climb to the highest peak to look at everything from above, like the birds look at it. We asked our grandmother for rag bags, our grandmother sewed these, they are convenient to use around the house. They attached rope straps to the bags, like they would to tourist backpacks. We packed ourselves a lunch - apples, crackers, sweets. And let's go.

About twenty minutes later we reached the mountains, but we were still full of strength and it seemed that we could easily climb up. The weather was sunny, the sky was huge blue, everything was green, insects were chirping, birds were chirping, and we were climbing the mountains. At first the mountains were gentle, the slope made it possible to climb on one leg. We climbed like this for about an hour, we were tired, the mountains had become steeper, we were already helping with our hands, and the peak was getting further and further away. We think that the one visible ahead is already the peak, but no, we are deceived and continue to climb. And they didn’t take into account that the higher you go, the colder the air becomes. Oh, we’re all in shorts and T-shirts, but Boloshka is generally only in shorts.

And then I couldn’t stand it anymore and said, “That’s it, let’s rest, I’m cold and I want to eat!”

“There’s a hole between the stones, I saw it, let’s go there, it’s warm there,” Boloshka pointed to big stones on our right side.

Ah, the breeze was indeed already blowing cold. And we crawled towards those stones. The little guy in front is climbing, shaking from the cold, the poor thing, and my brother and I are following behind him. But he moves faster than us, a boy of the mountains, or he wasn’t afraid. Oh, my brother and I no longer felt at ease, there is loose soil near the stones, you step on your foot and slide further down along with the stones. It became scary, and they began to cling to the bushes with their hands more tightly, move more slowly and look around with concern at the pebbles rolling from under their feet.

“Hey here!, there’s a hole here!” - Boloshka shouted to us.

My brother and I quickly climbed to the hole into which Boloshka was already climbing.

There was something like a cave there, a large flat stone covered the hole. We climbed into this hole under a stone. We untied our backpacks and crunched apples and crackers. We liked sitting in the cave, it was warm, we had a blast there. We came up with the idea of ​​throwing pebbles from the cave onto the branch of the bush outside. Whoever hit the most and didn’t miss wins. My brother was the most accurate, I only managed to hit it once, the branch was about five meters from the cave and I had to throw harder.

It's time to throw the Boloshka. He aimed for a long time and then threw it with all his might, but the stone flew past. Well, it didn’t hit, sometimes everything would have been fine, but Boloshka covered his face with his hands and sharply curled up as if preparing to cry. My brother and I were surprised by this, I began to stroke his head, reassuring him that I couldn’t do it either - I wasn’t crying. His brother also began to calm him down. But Boloshka didn’t seem to be crying, he just silently squeezed his face with his hands. And then he slowly moved his palms away from his face and we saw blood above his eyebrow. Boloshka looked at us in fear, and scarlet droplets fell from his eyebrow onto his cheek.

“Wow, did the stone bounce back to you like that?!” the brother asked in surprise.

“No,” Boloshka answered sharply.

“Let’s not throw stones anymore, let’s go home,” I suggested.

“No,” Boloshka repeated again.

"What's wrong?" - asked his brother. "Why?" - I added.

“It was not my stone,” answered Boloshka.

“Whose is it? Why do you think that?” — we began to bombard the boy with questions.

“There’s someone there, he threw a stone at me, I saw it,” the boy yelled, pointing his finger outward. That’s when we were seriously scared, but my brother said that before we are afraid, we need to check again. He took a pebble lying nearby and timidly threw it outside, into the same bushes. Silence...We waited, but there was nothing.

“You see, there’s no one there, it seemed to the Swamp,” said the brother. And he suggested that we get out and go home. But Boloshka and I did not move.

“Yes, what are you afraid of? It’s day, not night, what’s there to be afraid of?” said the brother. And he added that he would now get out and go alone, since we are such cowards.

“Don’t go, let’s wait a little longer,” I told my brother. But he waved his hand at me and climbed outside. Boloshka and I watched as he crawled through the bushes into which we had thrown ourselves, towards the path where we had originally climbed. When he was already out of sight, I told Boloshka that we also need to go after our brother and that we shouldn’t be afraid anymore.

We climbed out of the cave and followed our brother. But, before reaching our bushes, we saw our brother. He hurried towards us and motioned for us to climb back into the cave. Without understanding what was what, we dived back sharply, my brother quickly got there and also climbed in with us.

The brother was very frightened, he told us that on the path he saw an old man with a hunch and long gray hair. And that he was tall, his hands were huge. He sat with his back to his brother and ate raw meat of some animal, so that blood splattered. We decided to wait a little longer until this guy left.

We sat quietly in our hole, looking out warily. The sun was shining, no extraneous noise was heard. Suddenly, the bushes began to move and we saw a large crooked leg in some dirty military-colored rags pushing the bushes apart. Then the rest of the body appeared. The man was big in a green sheepskin coat, dirty and torn. His expression was angry and dull, his eyes were deep-set, his cheeks were sunken, his whole face looked like a skull covered with skin. On his head was a black bandana, from under which filthy long gray hair stuck out. He climbed, clinging to the bushes with his knobby hands, smeared with blood. On this man’s belt hung the head of a roe deer, tied by the horns. And he was heading straight towards our cave. We huddled close to each other out of fear and hid, barely breathing or blinking. His dull gaze was directed over our stone. We already felt his every step with our skin. Such heavy, sharp steps brought this terrible creature closer and closer to us.

He approached our stone, we looked straight at his stomach, wide and covered in green-dirty material, and the head of the poor animal, on his belt, stared at us with its dull eyes. Tears began to flow and I squeezed my brother’s hand. This man stood there for several seconds, nothing happened, but these seconds seemed like an eternity to us.

And suddenly he slammed his hand on our stone from above, I screamed, my brother covered my mouth with his palm.

“CHO-KO-ROP,” the man’s voice hissed loudly. We heard his hand stroking our stone, he repeated this word again and moved on. We listened to his retreating footsteps until they disappeared completely. And then they sat under the stone for a long time, not saying a word to each other and listening to the rustling sounds.

Then the voices of Boloshkin’s father and our grandmother were heard. They've been looking for us for an hour. Hearing our native voices, we jumped out of the cave and crawled towards them. Frightened, but happy that we were saved, we got some more from our grandmother during our long hike. Oh, we only told grandma about this creepy man when we returned home. Grandmother said that there were hunters walking there and they could scare us, and in general small children should not climb so far into the mountains, you never know what could happen there.

The story happened to my friend many years ago when he was a student. In the summer, during the holidays, he and three of his friends decided to go hiking Western Ukraine . Moreover, it was supposed to travel some distance by train (to a certain settlement
), walk partly, and sail partly along the river on an inflatable boat. We thought it, we did it.
We reached the village, stocked up on provisions, and walked through the forest to the river. They had a map with them, oh, probably not of very high quality, because they walked for a long time, evening was approaching, the river near which they planned to stop was not at the indicated place. And suddenly, on the path along which they were walking, a grandmother appeared, warmly dressed in a precocious manner. The tired guys asked her how far it was to the river. The grandmother looked at them carefully and said: “There is no river here. It would be better if you guys returned home. Because there is a black cat walking here. She will eat you and drink you” (grandmother’s spelling). Deciding that the old woman had lost her mind, the guys, laughing, went on and very soon came to the river that was on the map. Here they pitched a tent, inflated the boat, prepared dinner, and, on the occasion of the long-awaited rest, drank a bottle of Port wine. Yes, skeptics, four healthy, athletic guys drank a bottle of wine, and most of the bottle came from Genka Y. (I’ll call him that!). As you understand, there was no total intoxication. The guys sat near the fire, sang songs with a guitar, and began to go to bed. They had a double tent, and Genka volunteered to spend the night under in an inflatable boat, so that (in his words) “no one snores in your ear!” We fell asleep quickly, the physical activity during the day had an effect. Next, according to my friend, this is what happened: in the middle of the night, three friends in a tent were awakened by loud meowing. Even this was not a meow, but rather a howl. Moreover, the sound was increasing, with modulation that gave goosebumps. There was a full moon in the sky, and the shadow of a large cat was moving across the tent. The cat not only walked around the tent, but also tried to tear through the fabric with its claws. The guys clearly saw claws from inside the tent when the cat, growling and howling, tried to get inside. My friend said that the only thought of those in the tent was the thought of Genk, who was sleeping outside.
The horror they experienced (I remembered the words of the strange grandmother) made them unable to do anything. The cat howled and scratched into the tent almost until dawn, fortunately the summer nights were short. Even after everything calmed down, the guys did not immediately crawl out of the tent. And what did they see? Genka was lying on the grass, completely naked (his things were piled up next to him), and the inflatable boat was missing. When everyone woke him up, it turned out that he had heard nothing and absolutely did not understand what had happened.
The boat was found half an hour later: it was hanging high on a tree. With great difficulty we managed to remove it. That's all. There are no explanations.
R.S: Genka died of leukemia that same year.

The story happened to my friend many years ago when he was a student. In the summer, during the holidays, he and three of his friends decided to go hiking in Western Ukraine. Moreover, it was supposed to travel some distance by train (to a certain settlement), walk part of it, and sail part of the river on an inflatable boat.

They reached the village, stocked up on provisions, and walked through the forest to the river. They had a map with them, but probably not a very good one, because they walked for a long time, evening was approaching, and the river near which they planned to stop was not at the indicated place. And suddenly, on the path along which they were walking, a grandmother appeared, warmly dressed in a precocious manner. The tired guys asked her how far it was to the river. The grandmother looked at them carefully and said: “There is no river here.” It would be better if you guys returned home. Because there's a black cat walking around here. She will eat you and drink you” (grandmother’s spelling). Deciding that the old woman had lost her mind, the guys, laughing, walked on and very soon came to the river that was on the map. Here they pitched a tent, inflated the boat, prepared dinner, and, on the occasion of the long-awaited rest, drank a bottle of Port wine. Yes, skeptics, four healthy, athletic guys drank a bottle of wine, and most of the bottle came from Genka Y. (I’ll call him that!).

As you understand, there was no total intoxication. The guys sat near the fire, sang songs with a guitar, and began to go to bed. They had a two-person tent, and Genka volunteered to spend the night in the open air in an inflatable boat, so that (in his words) “no one would snore in your ear!” We fell asleep quickly, the physical activity during the day had an effect. Next, according to my friend, this is what happened: in the middle of the night, three friends in a tent were awakened by loud meowing. Even this was not a meow, but rather a howl. Moreover, the sound was increasing, with modulation that gave goosebumps. There was a full moon in the sky, and the shadow of a large cat was moving across the tent. The cat not only walked around the tent, but also tried to tear through the fabric with its claws. The guys clearly saw claws from inside the tent when the cat, growling and howling, tried to get inside. My friend said that the only thought of those in the tent was the thought of Genk, who was sleeping outside. The horror they experienced (I remembered the words of the strange grandmother) made them unable to do anything. The cat howled and scratched into the tent almost until dawn, fortunately the summer nights were short.

Even after everything calmed down, the guys did not immediately crawl out of the tent. And what did they see? Genka was lying on the grass, completely naked (his things were piled up next to him), and the inflatable boat was missing. When everyone woke him up, it turned out that he had heard nothing and absolutely did not understand what had happened. The boat was found half an hour later: it was hanging high on a tree. With great difficulty we managed to remove it. That's all. There are no explanations.

 

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