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Yes! Love this kind of thing. My favorite site, aside from the Reddit threads, with "true" scary stories is

Now, I'll share my story, which is true but with some small story-telling embellishments.

I had just graduated from high school and wanted to do something to prove my courage, which at the time I thought I could do by doing some solo backpacking along the Appalachian Trail. I had never done anything like that before, and I figured it was a good first step toward manhood.

I arrived at the trail, tired from the long drive from my home in Indiana, and started hiking in.

I had planned out my hike and knew I could hit a backcountry site in the time I had on my first day. I hike maybe 5 miles in and arrive at my backcountry site. It's just a couple hundred yards from the trail. I'm doing this in late fall, so most of the plants are dead and the leaves have already given up the ghost from all the trees. I can see the trail easily and anyone on the trail can see my campsite.

I set up my tent, and hang up my food bag, so bears can't get it, and I'm trying to make a fire. Everything was damp and I was having trouble, so I was concentrating intently and didn't notice the man standing three feet from me until he cleared his throat.

Startled, I knocked over my puny stick pyramid and nearly pissed myself. I regain my composure and chuckle at myself, half expecting the man to apologize and join in my relived laughter -- but he doesn't.

I stop my laughter short as I take a look at the guy. He was dressed like most hikers/campers, Northface, boots, etc. I say, "Hi." He stares at me for just the briefest of moments longer and then says hello back.

I would describe the man, but he looks like an average guy. Imagine an average man and you've got an idea of what this man looked like. The only thing that set this man apart was his stare. It was penetrating and appraising.

I ask how his hike is going and stumble my way through some small-talk, trying to shake the 'prey' feeling that has overcome me. The man doesn't say much, but he sits down on a log near my tent like he's going to stay for a while. I put my hand in my pocket and feel the small camp knife I've brought along with me.

The sun is getting low. It falls quickly in the woods. Still this man doesn't make any sign that he plans on leaving anytime soon.

We talked a little bit about it being my first time camping, and he seemed impressed that I choose to do it alone, or maybe not impressed, but he seemed to take special interest in my being alone.

Again, his gaze was appraising.

At this point, I nonchalantly take the knife out of my pocket and being to whittle a stick. I can tell he notices the knife.

I begin to ask him probing questions like: "So, are you camping around here?" and "Are you here alone?"

I realize that he doesn't have a pack, not a big backpacking pack, nor a day-bag. I know from my map that we're at least another several miles from another campsite, and that we're around five miles from the trailhead. He wasn't going to get out of the woods before nightfall, and unless it was in his pocket, he didn't even have a headlamp/flashlight.

Quite suddenly, he stands. I quickly get to my feet to, knife held near my knee, low but ready. He says he has to go, and with that turns and walks away. He heads down the trail in the direction of the trailhead. It's almost true night. I wondered where he was heading and how he would get there in the dark.

I watched him until he reached a bend in the trail and moved out of sight. For another few minutes I kept my eye on the trail and the woods around me, half expecting to see him sneaking up on me.

I redoubled my effort to start a fire, but reluctantly abandoned my efforts. All I brought was a lighter and some matches (it was my first time, forgive me), and everything was so damp, the ground muddy.

By the time I look up from my fire it was night.

I crawl into my tent and replay the strange encounter. The more I think about it the more I realize how out of the place the man was, and how uneasy he made me feel. Then it hit me, 'what if he comes back!'

I decided I would move my campsite. With just the light from my headlamp, I pack up my stuff, retrieve my food bag, and hike another hour down the trail.

It began to rain.

There were no other actual campsites, so I just hiked off the trail a ways and then set up my tent, hung my food bag and went to sleep, dreaming of bears with the face of that strange man.

Early the next morning I awoke, alive and well. I packed up my site and realized I had forgotten my water bottle at my previous site. So, I hiked back. I arrived at my the old site and my breath was sucked from my lungs. Boot prints in the mud lead from the trail to my campsite and circled the area.

He had come back in the night.

tl;dr: Went solo camping in the Smoky Mountains, came across a weirdo, felt uneasy, so I moved to another site that night after weirdo left, went to original site next morning, found muddy boot prints.