gather up everyone this will be a good one this story is about a group of friends who went camping deep in the Redwood National Park. Now, these weren't your average weekend campers; they were experienced, the kind who laughed in the face of bear warnings.

On their first night, as the fire crackled and shadows danced, they started hearing noises – not the usual rustling of leaves or hooting of owls. This was a rhythmic tapping, like someone dragging a long stick against the trees. They shrugged it off, blaming it on the wind. But the tapping grew louder, closer, circling their campsite. One of them grabbed a flashlight and scanned the woods, but saw nothing.

The next morning, they found strange symbols carved into the trees around their tents. Symbols none of them recognized. That night, the tapping returned, more insistent than before. Then, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the forest, followed by silence. They huddled together, fear gripping their hearts. When dawn finally broke, one of them was gone. Vanished without a trace. They packed up, ran out of those woods, and never looked back. Some say, on quiet nights, you can still hear the tapping in Redwood National Park, a reminder that some places are best left undisturbed.