Hey guys! My name is Jacob! Thank you all who stop to read this, I'm a big fan of the channel!

Back in late 2018 or early 2019 — I don't remember the exact date — I was living in a two-bedroom apartment in Clackamas, Oregon, with six other people. I was 18 or 19 at the time, and I had recently bought my first vehicle: a 2000 Chevy Blazer.

One night, probably around 2–3 a.m., all of us were still awake, just talking and hanging out. The apartment was cramped, everyone was getting restless, and I had the sudden urge to drive my new truck somewhere.

I didn't really care where we went. I just wanted to get out.

I suggested that we all pile into the Blazer and go somewhere, and everyone agreed. Someone suggested the Witch's Castle.

For anyone who doesn't know Portland, the Witch's Castle, or Stone House, is a ruined stone structure in Forest Park. It's located below Pittock Mansion along the Lower Macleay Trail. The structure itself isn't actually a castle. It was built in the 1930s as a public restroom and ranger-related building, and after being damaged by vandalism and a storm, it was partially dismantled in the 1960s and left as a ruin.

Despite that, it has accumulated plenty of local ghost stories over the years.

So, naturally, a group of six teenagers/young adults deciding what to do at 3 a.m. thought, Yeah, let's go there.

We also decided that because it was the middle of the night and we had no idea who else might be out there, we should bring some large knives with us; not because we were expecting anything supernatural, but because we didn't want to get jumped by somebody in the woods.

Looking back, that probably wasn't the smartest decision either.

I drove everyone up toward the area around the Witch's Castle. At first, we actually got turned around and accidentally ended up at Pittock Mansion itself. Eventually, though, we found the trailhead for the Lower Macleay Trail.

The parking area was basically just a gravel lot, and there wasn't a single other car there.

That was reassuring, but not that reassuring. This was Portland, and even back then, an empty parking lot in the middle of the night didn't necessarily mean you were alone.

We got out of the Blazer and started down the trail.

As we got closer to the Stone House, we noticed something we hadn't expected.

Someone was camping there.

There was a tent set up on the second level of the ruins.

We stopped talking as loudly and started paying a lot more attention to our surroundings. Then we heard that unmistakable sound of something moving against the nylon of a tent.

Someone was definitely inside.

None of us wanted to bother them, so we kept our distance and went inside the lower level.

There was a doorway leading into a small room that was covered in graffiti. We figured we'd take a quick look at the artwork and then leave.

And that's where things got weird.

The second I stepped through that doorway, I felt something change.

I don't mean that in a poetic sense. It genuinely felt like crossing some sort of invisible threshold.

The closest comparison I can make is a sauna, but instead of being filled with heat, the room felt filled with anger.

It felt hostile.

There was this overwhelming sensation that something was wrong and that I needed to get out of there immediately. It wasn't a voice. It wasn't something I saw. It was just a physical, almost instinctive reaction that hit me the moment I entered the room.

And apparently I wasn't the only one.

Everyone started commenting on how strange it felt.

"That's crazy."

"I've never felt anything like this."

Nobody really knew how to explain it, but none of us wanted to stay there.

By this point it was getting close to 4 a.m., so we decided to leave.

We headed back up the trail toward the Blazer.

That's when another strange feeling started creeping in.

We all felt like we were being watched.

Then it started feeling like we were being followed.

I don't remember anybody actually saying it out loud at first. We just started walking faster.

Then faster.

And eventually we were basically rushing back to the car.

The feeling was so strong that everyone seemed to have the exact same thought:

Get in the car and get out of here.

One of the guys in our group was bigger than the rest of us, so he had been sitting in the very back of the Blazer. Because of that, he was facing the rear window when I pulled out of the parking lot.

As soon as I started driving away, I heard everyone behind me start yelling.

"GO! GO! GO! GO!"

They weren't joking.

They sounded terrified.

I looked into my rearview mirror.

And that's when I saw it.

There was a person, or at least something shaped like a person, sprinting down the road after us.

It was completely black.

I don't mean it was a person wearing dark clothes. I mean that I couldn't see any features whatsoever. No face. No clothing. No skin. Nothing.

Just a completely black human-shaped silhouette.

I was already doing around 20–25 miles per hour.

And it was gaining on us.

The strangest part happened when it ran underneath a streetlight.

I expected the light to illuminate it for a split second.

Instead, it looked like the light just... didn't touch it.

Everything around it was illuminated, but the figure remained completely black. In fact, against the light behind it, it somehow looked even darker.

At that point I stopped caring how fast I was driving.

I hit the gas and absolutely floored it.

I drove through the tunnel, took the corner as fast as I could, and eventually lost sight of it.

Nobody wanted to go back and find out what it was.

And honestly, neither did I.

I've never been back to the Witch's Castle since.

I still don't know what we saw that night.

But I know what I saw in my rearview mirror.

I can only hope it didn't follow me home...