Way out in the woods of North Carolina there's a spot where nothing grows. No grass, no weeds,
not even the stray twig will take root. They call it the Devil's Trampin' Ground,
and just the name's enough to send a chill through ya. Folks say it's cursed, or maybe it's a door to
something we ain't meant to understand. Others reckon it's where old scratchy self-walks,
pacing circles in the dirt while he dreams up his devilry. So pull up close if you dare,
and let me tell you the truth, or something close to it, about this eerie place.
Welcome to Kentucky Melodies America's Scariest Stories, where we bring ya ghostly legends,
spooky haunts, and bone-chilling tales from all over this great land. These stories will have you
looking over your shoulder all night, so pull up a chair, dim them lights, and let's dive into the
eerie and unexplained. Now, let me spin you a yarn. The kind old timers used to mutter round campfires
when the shadows got long and the air turned cold. It's about a place deep in Chatham County, North
Carolina. A place they call the Devil's Trampon Ground. Even the name sends a shiver down your
spine, don't it? Folks say it's been there longer than memory, an eerie, barren circle in the woods.
Forty feet across, nary a blade of grass, nor a single weed dares grow there. It's like the
earth itself's been scalded and salted by something too wicked to name. Even the animals avoid it,
dogs will whimper and back away, eyes wide like they see something we don't. Some say it's cursed,
others say it's the very spot where the Devil walks. The truth? Well, that depends on who you ask.
Before white settlers ever laid eyes on that peculiar patch of land, the native peoples had
their own stories about it. They reckoned it was sacred ground, a place where the spirit world
bled into hours. The elders warned their young not to wander too close. They said the circle was
where angry spirits danced, their feet pound in the earth bare. And when those spirits danced,
they opened a gateway to the unknown. When settlers arrived in the early 1700s,
they didn't know or care much for native traditions, but they couldn't ignore what they saw.
A patch of earth that seemed... wrong. It wasn't just the barrenness, though that was strange
enough, it was the way it felt. Like the woods around it were alive watching you,
breathing down your neck. They named it the Devil's Trampon Ground. Figuring it was old scratch
his self, pacing circles in the dirt while he schemed up his mischief.
Even back then, the stories started spreading. Farmers claimed their animals wouldn't go near it.
Hunters said their dogs howled and cowered whenever they got close. And then there were the
whispers. Stories of strange lights, shadowy figures, and voices that didn't belong to no human.
It wasn't long before the circle became a place of fear and fascination.
In the late 1800s, a man named John Carter decided he wasn't going to let no old wife's
tales scare him off. John was a practical man, a farmer with a godfarin wife and two sturdy boys
when he came across the land near the circle he saw fertile soil, not curses. He built himself a
cabin less than a mile from the trampon ground and set about clearing the woods for farming.
At first things seemed fine enough. Sure, there were some odd noises at night, whispers, maybe the
wind threw the trees, but nothing he couldn't explain away. Then the animals started to
disappear. Chickens vanished from their coop and one morning John found his prize milk cow dead,
her body untouched but her eyes wide open like she'd been scared to death. His wife, Mary, begged
him to leave. John, she'd say, her voice trembling, there's something out there, something unnatural.
But John Carter was a stubborn man. Ain't nothing out there but wild dogs and tall tales,
he'd reply, though even he started feeling uneasy after the sun went down. One night in November,
the family sat by the fire, listening to the wind howl outside. Suddenly there came a knock at the
door, hard and deliberate like someone pounding with their fists. John grabbed his rifle and flung
the door open, but there wasn't a soul in sight, just darkness and silence, heavy as a stone.
Then he heard it, footsteps slow and deliberate, circle in the cabin. The hair on the back of his
neck stood up as the steps grew louder. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of them,
red eyes glowing like hot coals, staring at him from the direction of the circle.
John slammed the door shut, bolted it and told his family to pack what they could carry.
By morning the Carter's were gone, their cabin left to rot.
In 1935 a group of college boys from Chapel Hill decided to spend the night in the circle.
They were full of themselves, laughing and joking as they pitched their tents and lit a fire right in
the middle. Ghosts, one of them scoffed, ain't no such thing, but as the night wore on their
bravado started to fade. The woods grew deathly, the woods were still in the middle of the
fade. The woods grew deathly quiet, not the peaceful kind but the kind that makes your skin
crawl. Around midnight one of the boys froze, pointing toward the edge of the firelight.
You see that, he whispered. They all turned to look. There, just beyond the circle was a shadow,
tall, thin and moving in slow deliberate circles like it was pacing.
The boys didn't wait to find out what it was. They grabbed their things and ran,
leaving their tents and supplies behind. When they came back the next day their campsite was
destroyed. Tents shredded, firewood scattered and strange hoof-like prints embedded in the dirt.
Over the years, plenty of folks have tried to explain the tramp and ground. Scientist tested
the soil and found it lacking nutrients, but they couldn't explain why the rest of the forest
grew just fine. Paranormal investigators brought their fancy gadgets and claimed to detect strange
energy readings and cold spots that moved like something alive. One team even caught what
they said was a figure on thermal cameras, cold and shapeless, slinking through the trees.
Some say it's a portal, a thin place where the veil between worlds is weak. Others reckon it's
cursed land, stained by some ancient sin. And then there's the old belief, the one that still
sends shivers downspines, that it's the devil's own stomping ground and he's marked it for himself.
Even today the devil's tramping ground draws the curious and the foolhardy. They come with cameras,
flashlights and bravado, but most don't stay long. They leave with stories of strange lights,
whispered voices, and an unshakable sense of being watched. Some say they see shadows moving in the
trees. Others wake to find their belongings scattered and their fires mysteriously
extinguished. The circle remains, changeless and barren, a reminder of how little we understand
about the world's mysteries. So, if you ever find yourself wandering through those woods and you come
upon a patch of earth where nothing grows, take my advice, turn around. Some places just ain't
meant for the living. And if you're foolish enough to step inside, well, you best pray you
make it out before midnight. For that's when the devil comes a-trampin'.
What do y'all think about the devil's tramping ground? Could it really be cursed land, a portal
to another world, or just an eerie coincidence of nature? Have you ever visited a place that
gave you the chills, where the air felt heavy and something just didn't sit right? Or maybe
you got your own ghost story or legend to share from your hometown? Drop your thoughts and stories
in the comments. We'd love to hear what you think about this chilling tale.
And if you've ever dared to visit the devil's tramping ground yourself, tell us what you saw,
heard, or felt. Did you leave unscathed, or did the mountain's dark grip follow you home?
Thanks for joining us here at Kentucky Melody's America's Scariest Stories. If you enjoyed
this tale of eerie folklore and spying tinglin' mystery, be sure to like, share, and subscribe
to the channel. Our America's Scariest Stories podcast playlist dives into legends like this
every week, bringing you tales from across the country, and the stories of the world.
New tales from across the country that'll send shivers down your spine. Hit that notification
bell so you never miss a story that lurks in the shadows. And don't wander too far now.
We've got more stories waiting in the dark for you. Next time, we'll take you to another
place where the veil between this world and the unknown grows thin. Until then, keep an eye on
the shadows. And remember, not all footsteps behind you are your own. We'll see you soon, if you dare to return.