My house sits just fifty feet from the edge of the Nathaniel Mountain State Wildlife Area in West Virginia a sprawling, heavily wooded preserve known for its rugged terrain and untouched wilderness. When my family and I moved here five years ago, we thought we were moving into peace and quiet. But over time, I’ve begun to wonder if we moved into something else entirely.
It was last summer, around three in the morning, when something woke my daughter and me from a dead sleep. The windows were open to let in the cool night air. That’s when we heard it — a woman’s voice echoing through the trees just beyond our property line. It wasn’t faint or far off. It was loud, clear, and close enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
But it wasn’t just the sound that unsettled us. It was the way she spoke. The words didn’t belong to any language I knew. It didn’t sound like Spanish, French, or anything else familiar. It wasn’t exactly foreign either. It was more like something old, something ancient or maybe something not meant for human ears at all.
Her tone was strange, too. Each word fell with an odd, deliberate rhythm. It didn’t sound like normal speech but like a chant, a ritual, or an incantation. It felt as though she wasn’t speaking to us, but to someone or something else hidden in the darkness.
I sat up in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs, trying to hear more. The sound of her voice cut through the stillness of the woods like a blade. Finally, I reached over and flicked on the bedroom light.
And just like that, the voice stopped.
Silence. Not a single sound no crickets, no night birds, no rustle of leaves. The entire forest felt like it was holding its breath. My daughter and I stared at each other, too shaken to speak. We didn’t sleep again until daylight.
But that wasn’t the first strange thing to happen here, and it certainly wasn’t the last. Over the years, we’ve heard slow, deliberate footsteps circling the house when no one was outside. We’ve seen strange, flickering lights moving through the trees where no path exists. And now, thinking back, I realize there was always something about this place that didn’t sit right with me.
The previous owner had installed multiple locks on every exterior door far more than you’d expect for a rural home. At the time, I thought it was just a quirk or an overabundance of caution. Now, I’m not so sure.
This land is ancient. These woods are deep. And sometimes, if you’re quiet enough, they speak back.
Want more stories like this Nathaniel Mountain ghost witch story?
Subscribe to our YouTube channel: Spooky Appalachia
