3 Scary Real life footprints you must avoid in Snowstorm

Story 1

I possess three real estate holdings, two of which I lease through Airbnb. My primary residence is situated in Montreal. The setting of this narrative unfolds in my rental property located in Wakefield, Quebec. This cozy dwelling nestled in the woods is promoted as a small, comfortable abode. While it features two bedrooms, its size makes it more suitable for couples. Occasionally, I accommodate groups of four or more, and these instances concern me more due to the potential for damage. Couples typically leave the place tidy, and I rely on a cleaning lady to ensure the property is well-maintained after their stay.

Following a weekend visit from a larger group, I typically make the two-hour drive to the location myself to ensure cleanliness and confirm the absence of any damage or theft. On these occasions, I often opt to spend the night. Since a larger group had recently stayed for a weekend, I felt it was necessary to go up there, tidy up, and inspect the premises. I informed my nearest neighbor of my day trip. Similar to me, he is seldom present, so whenever I make the trip, I check with him to see if there’s anything he needs me to handle for him, such as bringing in his mail or packages.

He promptly responded to my text, expressing that he wouldn’t be at his place this week. He requested me to check for mail from a particular person. On my journey to his residence, I drove up his driveway and reached his mailbox. While approaching it, I noticed footprints in the snow next to the house. Prior to exploring that further, I inspected the mailbox, finding only a handful of unimpressive envelopes, mostly resembling credit card offers. I informed him that there was no mail from the specified person and also mentioned the presence of footprints on his property.

It couldn’t have been the mailman, as the footsteps emanated from the woods, advanced towards the window, and circled around to the rear. He phoned me, instructing me to trace the path of the footprints. I diligently followed them around the entire house, only to discover that they disappeared into the woods on the opposite side. Indifferent, he remarked, “As long as they didn’t break in, I don’t care.” With that, I departed and drove the final minute uphill to my house.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, I observed numerous footprints scattered across the snowy landscape surrounding the premises. The guests had departed a few days prior, and a layer of snow had fallen the day before my arrival. It intrigued me that their footprints hadn’t yet been obscured. With more snow expected later in the evening, I anticipated that by tomorrow, these imprints would be erased. My initial task involved replacing the security lock on the front door in preparation for the next set of visitors.

Entering the house, I noticed a bit of disorder. The sink was piled with dishes and glasses, the garbage bin overflowed, and empty cans of soda and beer were scattered around. Perhaps some guests adopt the mindset of, “Well, we’re already paying a cleaning fee.” After thoroughly inspecting to ensure nothing was amiss, I commenced cleaning. Despite the music playing in the background, I caught a sound coming from outside.

Perched atop a hill and enveloped by woods, my residence seems secluded. It’s a place where few venture. As I silenced the radio, the tranquility was disrupted by the distinct sound of footsteps on the snow just outside my home. They brushed past a window and proceeded towards the backyard. Quickly, I ensured the front door was securely locked, maintaining complete silence. The awareness that someone was outside heightened as my parked car in the front would undoubtedly indicate my presence.

After spending about 20 minutes lounging in the living room, I opted to stand up and venture outdoors for a brief exploration. As expected, a recent set of footprints formed a trail encircling the house. I traced them around the entire perimeter until they mysteriously halted or merged at the rear of the house near the window air conditioning unit. Peering into the woods, an eerie sensation crept over me, as if someone were observing from afar. Consequently, I returned indoors and refrained from stepping outside for the remainder of the day.

I placed a substantial food order through Grub Hub, and the delivery took an eternity. Consequently, it served as both my late lunch and dinner. Following some household chores like cleaning and laundry, the remainder of my day was spent working remotely on my laptop. The persistent snowfall outside, coupled with the forecast of continued snow throughout the night, suggests that there might be an increased interest in renting for the cozy ambiance over the next few days. This is typically the pattern.

Once my work was completed around 8:00, I decided to unwind by watching a movie. As I immersed myself in the film, I began to notice unfamiliar creaks and cracks emanating from the ceiling. Given that there was no attic, it struck me as odd. My best guess was that it might be the result of the weight of the freshly fallen snow on the roof. After the movie, I headed to bed, and the tranquil ambiance of snowflakes gently tapping against the window sill added to the peaceful atmosphere. However, the disquieting sound of footsteps in the snow outside made an unexpected return.

The horrifying awareness that someone was outside so late at night struck me. The sound of footsteps lingered outside my window before gradually fading away. I perched on the edge of my bed for about 20 minutes, anticipating any sound that might transition me from a state of alertness to full-on defense mode. After a prolonged period of eerie silence, I decided to venture outside, donning my coat and shoes and gripping a baseball bat, as I cautiously patrolled around the house.

Once again, a set of newly formed footprints caught my attention. However, this time, they originated from the air conditioning unit and led towards the woods. It dawned on me that someone had probably been on my roof before, using the window AC unit as an access point. Concerned, I retreated indoors and opted to contact the police. Approximately 20 minutes later, a Wakefield police officer arrived at my residence. We examined the surroundings together; he even ascended to the roof and confirmed the presence of footprints and other evidence, indicating that someone had indeed accessed the area.

He exuded kindness and reassurance, assuring me of his proximity if I were to hear any signs of their return. I took the opportunity to caution him about the analogous footprints spotted at my neighbor’s residence, alerting him to the possibility of this individual or group targeting multiple houses for their activities. Upon departing, he mentioned his presence in the vicinity the following morning.

After my departure, I leased the space to a group of guests shortly thereafter. They didn’t mention any unusual occurrences. Fortunately, this was just a singular incident that occurred more than a year ago.

Story 2

This incident took place during my childhood when, naturally, I found myself at home without any company. I was in the seventh grade, and my parents had recently begun entrusting me with the responsibility of being home alone. During their absence, I would typically engage in playing video games. On this particular night, while my parents were out, I found myself alone, immersed in the world of video games.

The video games were kept in the basement for my older brother and me to share, as our dad preferred not to have them in the living room. The basement in our parents’ house was spacious, but as young kids, it used to frighten both my brother and me. When it was time to head upstairs, we would hastily flick the light and dash up the stairs, as though being pursued by unseen demons.

When I was 12, I wasn’t as frightened as I used to be as a little kid. Nevertheless, whenever I found myself alone in the basement, particularly when home alone, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder from time to time. Engrossed in the video game of the moment, a sudden crash at the basement window startled me so much that I nearly leapt out of my seat.

Turning to glance at the window, I heard a sound resembling someone striking it with their fist. The outside was dimly lit due to the overcast sky and falling snow. Observing the window, I noticed scattered snow particles, suggesting that a piece of snow might have collided with it. Initially, I speculated that it could have been an icicle falling and striking the window.

I attempted to return to my video game, but the icicle theory dissolved when a sudden loud bang echoed against the glass once again. This time, I rose from my seat and examined the window more closely. The glass now bore an increased number of snow particles, indicating that someone was tossing snowballs from outside. It was clear in my mind that the culprit was none other than my brother, Keith.

I ascended the stairs to the back entrance, swung open the inner door, and peered through the glass outer door. The brick wall on the left obstructed the full backyard view, prompting me to unlatch the door and venture into the yard wearing only a pair of slides.

The chilly wind and snow whipped against my face as I descended the two steps to ground level, peering beyond the brick wall. I called out for Keith, asking, “Why didn’t you mention you were coming home tonight?” In front of the back fence, I spotted someone concealed in the bushes, evidently attempting to hide.

I exclaimed to Keith, ‘I see you,’ but as I continued to gaze, unease crept in, making me doubt if it truly was him. Hastily, I retreated indoors, securing the door behind me. Without hesitation, I reached for the phone and dialed my mom, inquiring about Keith’s whereabouts. She informed me that he was not meant to be home; he was spending the night at his friend’s house.

In that instant, yet another snowball struck. I turned to my mom, questioning if she had heard it too. Confirming my suspicion, she replied affirmatively. Hastily, I informed her about someone in the backyard hurling snowballs at the windows. In response, she placed me on speaker so my dad could join the conversation. Curious, my dad inquired if it might be some kids playing around, and my anxious reply conveyed my uncertainty. After all, I was just a child, overwhelmed by the situation.

I inquired about your arrival time, and they assured me they would be home soon. They’re currently en route. I recalled my mom’s advice not to reveal my presence, but I mentioned that they were aware since I had gone into the yard. In response, she instructed me to wait upstairs, lock the door, and informed me that she would contact the police on my behalf. I followed her guidance accordingly.

I entered my room and left the lights off. Although it was growing darker outside, I could discern someone moving in the backyard from my window. They peered through the downstairs windows, and soon enough, I witnessed them knocking on the kitchen window—the same one targeted with a snowball just minutes ago. They seemed to believe I was still inside due to the lingering light left on.

The individual in question wasn’t a child; their height suggested they might be an older teenager. It was challenging to determine their age precisely since they wore a jacket or coat with the hood pulled up. As I observed, they attempted to raise the downstairs window. It was evident that these windows hadn’t been opened in months, especially in the midst of winter. Nevertheless, one thing was clear—they were attempting to gain access to the house.

He shifted his gaze towards the windows on the upper floor, prompting me to quickly lower myself. I avoided glancing out of the window thereafter. A sudden crash echoed from my bedroom window, indicating that he had likely spotted me. He proceeded to hurl a series of snowballs at the windows in my room, and just like that, the activity came to an abrupt halt.

My mother phoned me again to ensure my well-being, informing me that the police were en route. The wait was prolonged, likely due to challenging conditions, but eventually, the doorbell chimed. I descended to verify the law enforcement presence before admitting the lone female police officer, who appeared to be in her forties. While she surveyed the property with her flashlight, I remained indoors, observing through the windows.

She inspected the bushes, shed, and patio before returning to the front. She reported finding footprints scattered throughout the yard but assured that there was no one present anymore, at least not presently. After a brief phone conversation with my mom, she decided to wait here until my parents returned home.

By day’s end, my parents arrived, the police officer departed, and I found myself unharmed. Perhaps it was merely an odd individual or mischievous teenagers orchestrating a bizarre prank. However, the person attempting to open the window casts doubt on that theory. If it were an endeavor to break in, it was undeniably the most foolish attempt imaginable. Considering the warning with the snowballs, it seems more likely that someone was aiming to frighten me for the sake of twisted amusement.

Story 3

Several years in the past, I embarked on a winter adventure to the Colorado Rockies with my girlfriend Trish, accompanied by my good friend John and his girlfriend Katie. John, a longtime companion with whom I thoroughly enjoy engaging in outdoor pursuits such as hiking, snowboarding, and mountaineering, made the trip memorable.

John’s family possesses a cabin in that area, and we decided to spend a few nights there. Opting for a weekend with a predicted snowfall, we arrived to find a layer of snow already covering the ground. The forecast hinted at even more snow the following day. On our initial night at the cabin, we relaxed by immersing ourselves in the hot tub and enjoying some wine.

Nestled deep within the woods, the cabin stood in splendid isolation. That night, as we luxuriated in the hot tub, delicate snow flurries descended from the sky, foreshadowing the events of the following day. When morning arrived, we were greeted by a gentle snowfall, surpassing the predictions. Though the ground had only collected a modest layer of new snow, optimism lingered as we anticipated the possibility of continuous snowfall throughout the day.

John filled up the family quad stored in the expansive Big Shed behind the house. Initially, we had to use my car to jump-start it, but once it roared to life, we alternated taking exhilarating rides along the extensive trails on his vast property. The adventure stretched on for hours, thanks to the property’s enormity. It featured spacious areas ideal for drifting and performing donuts, as well as narrow, winding trails perfect for exploration.

On this misty day, snowfall persisted, initially starting as a gentle descent of flakes. John and I spent some time riding together, while Trish and Katie ventured outdoors to sled down a substantial hill on the property. Following our snowy escapades, we decided to head out for lunch. Thanks to my trusty pickup truck, navigating the snowy terrain posed no challenges. Upon our return, the girls opted for a nap, but John and I were determined. Disregarding the idea of rest, we geared up for a hiking adventure and ventured into the woods, ascending one of the trails we had explored earlier on the quad.

Ascending the mountain, the trail extended beyond John’s property, prompting us to commence our ascent. Both of us maintain a high level of fitness, accustomed to such endeavors. However, for the average person, trekking uphill in the snow with cumbersome boots can prove quite exhausting. After hiking for approximately half an hour to an hour, we neared the mountain’s summit, or at least, halted at a location that would have offered a breathtaking view if not for the thick fog and snow. Our surroundings were engulfed in a sea of white. Despite the challenging conditions, we took a break, seated in the snow. The precipitation intensified as forecasted. I queried John for the umpteenth time, “Are you certain about the route back?” To which he responded, “Yes, absolutely.” Consequently, he led the descent from the mountain.

We encountered a fierce blizzard, prompting us to hasten our descent. Fortunately, descending proved less challenging than ascending. As we made our way down, an unexpected moaning, humming sound emerged from behind us. I urged John to halt and inquired if he too heard it. He responded negatively, but we paused, listening intently. The unsettling noise recurred – a rumbling, moaning sound not too distant from our location. It wasn’t reminiscent of an animal; rather, it bore a striking resemblance to human vocalizations.

Both of us swiftly changed direction, descending the mountain at an accelerated pace. Upon hearing a sound, I questioned, “What’s that?” To which he responded with uncertainty. As footsteps became audible from behind, I urged John to halt once more. We came to a stop and tuned into the surroundings. Amidst the almost absolute silence of the snowfall, the footsteps were remarkably clear. Despite the thick fog and dense forest, attempting to identify the source of the sounds seemed nearly impossible.

John remarked, “That unmistakably wasn’t an animal sound, and there’s no way animals would trail us, especially with all the noise we’re making.” Just then, I sensed vibrations in my coat pocket. Retrieving my phone, I noticed Trish had urgently called and messaged me. It seemed she had been attempting to contact me, but I only got the messages now that I had reception.

Continuing our stroll, I removed my gloves to respond to her conversation. However, concern gripped me as I perused her messages. She inquired if the figures outside the cabin were John and me, expressing fear about venturing out there. Despite my damp fingers, I did my best to respond. “What do you mean?” My attempt to call went unanswered, leading me to voicemail due to a sudden loss of reception. Alerting John to the unsettling text, I urged that we hasten our pace. Throughout, eerie hums and moans pursued us closely. At this point, we were practically sprinting, making our way swiftly back to the cabin.

We caught sight of the cabin lights amid the rapidly darkening woods. Reaching the cabin, we knocked on the door, signaling the girls to allow us entry. Upon stepping inside, they hurriedly exchanged details, attempting to recount the recent events. Essentially, their account revealed that they had spotted two individuals wandering outside about 10 minutes prior. One of them even paused by the window and peered inside. Frightened, the girls refrained from closing the blinds until our return, opting to remain concealed in one of the rooms.

John headed to his father’s room to retrieve a firearm. All the blinds were now shut. However, despite the tense situation, we eventually needed to go out for dinner. After waiting for the atmosphere to calm down, John and I ventured outside, gun in hand. Glancing around swiftly, we assured the girls that it was safe to approach the car. We chose not to mention the unsettling sounds in the woods to avoid causing additional fear among the girls.

After a quick visit to a diner, we returned promptly. Tonight, we decided to forgo the hot tub and opted for a cozy movie night indoors. Our peaceful evening took an unexpected turn when a forceful and noisy knocking echoed through the door. We exchanged uneasy glances, and fear was evident in everyone’s eyes. Acting swiftly, John seized the gun from the table and rejoined our group. The mysterious knocker persisted. John pondered whether to issue a threat with the firearm, but I advised against it, suggesting we maintain silence. Strangely, the anticipated third round of knocks never came.

The girls retired to the bedrooms, while John and I remained in the living room, awaiting in quiet anticipation. For approximately thirty minutes, he kept the gun loaded, though I sensed his reluctance to employ it. Choosing to spend the night in the living room, we aimed to be alert to any potential sounds. We successfully navigated the night, and the following morning, we packed our belongings. I assisted John in tidying up and returning everything to the shed outdoors. Afterward, we departed.

However, the truly peculiar aspect was the absence of any footprints in the snow the following day. While it’s conceivable that they may have been obscured by the fresh snowfall, it remained an eerie occurrence. Whatever transpired there that night couldn’t have been positive.

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