True TAIWAN Horror story

Let’s paint a picture of Qilai Second Fort. It’s a prefab metal shack with just one way in—a single door that catches sunlight during the day. There are hardly any windows, and the few it has are tiny and high up, supposedly to keep bears out. The door itself is a hefty slab of iron, like those emergency exits in department stores—you have to press down hard to shove it open. Inside, it’s a long, narrow space, about 10 meters wide but stretching 30 or 40 meters deep. No partitions, just one big, empty room. Hopefully, that gives you a mental image.

Not far from the fort is Tianyun Lodge, a wooden structure. I can’t recall what the outer door was like, but inside, it’s divided into rooms with sliding doors. All I remember from sleeping there is the strong scent of wood and the eerie whistling of wind through the cracks at night—pretty spooky stuff.

By the time Jimmy stumbled back to Qilai Second Fort, the sky had darkened. Thank goodness he made it before nightfall, or he might’ve been lost for good. He’d wandered off with nothing but the clothes on his back. Once inside, he scarfed down the rest of his bread and eyed the spaghetti cans—only to realize there was no can opener. He tried smashing them, even gnawing at them with his teeth, but no luck. Defeated, he gave up, sipped some water, and fiddled with his phone.

As the chill set in, he decided to close the iron door to block the wind. Not wanting to sleep too close to the entrance, he moved deeper inside. He emptied his bag to take stock of his supplies. It was getting cold, so he lit a canister of high-altitude gas with his lighter for warmth. He also heated some water to make a cup of milk tea he’d brought along. Sipping it warmed him up nicely.

With nothing to do, Jimmy started pacing the fort, gas canister in hand. He didn’t bother with his headlamp since the flame gave off both light and heat—honestly, a mountain survival MVP. It illuminated a radius of about five meters. The fort felt huge for one person, and as he wandered, he ended up near the door. Something caught his eye—writing etched above it. With his 600-degree myopia, he couldn’t make it out, so he leaned closer.

“Uh… ‘Mr. So-and-So donated 2 million…’ Oh! A rich, kind soul giving climbers a place to shelter. Nice! Must’ve been a mountain lover. ‘Hence named… Qilai Second Fort.’ Huh? Qilai Second Fort? Why does that sound familiar? Qilai… Second… Fort???”

Here’s a tip: don’t binge too many TV shows or cartoons. Suddenly, Jimmy’s brain flooded with snippets from a program he’d seen—keywords like haunted, corpses moving at night, someone scratching the door with their nails, waking up next to a body. “Holy crap!!!”

Let’s be real—if I realized I was alone in Qilai Second Fort, I’d lose it too. Jimmy says he accidentally… well, he crapped himself. Standing by the door, he got this overwhelming feeling that a crowd was behind him, eyes boring into his back.

He didn’t dare turn around. Instead, he crouched, stared at the door, and shuffled backward, one hand feeling the floor behind him. His plan? Grab his stuff and bolt.

He said those 10-odd meters felt like the longest distance of his life. He kept eyeing the door, terrified it’d vanish if he looked away. (Jimmy, lay off the horror movies!)

He was also scared he’d brush against a foot, turn, and see someone. (Seriously, Jimmy, enough with the movies!) His pants grew warm as the mess he’d made trickled from his backside down his legs.

Then—bam!—his hand hit something. His sleeping bag! Phew. He frantically scooped up his stuff, shoved it into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and ran. One hand clutched the gas canister, the other gripped the door handle. He pushed down—hard. It opened! The heavy door resisted, so he shoved with all his might.

Two things happened next.

First, either the door was too heavy or the wind too strong—it slammed shut again. Second, the gust that rushed in when it opened? It snuffed out the gas flame. His little beacon of hope flickered out. On a mountain, in the dark, that’s a gut punch.

Jimmy said it felt like the long room behind him was suddenly full of hands reaching out to grab him. The air turned icy, everything froze, and he couldn’t see a thing—his mind went blank. The warm mess in his pants slid further, pooling into his shoes.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Total meltdown.

If it were me, I’d collapse too. In a flash, he yanked the lighter from his pocket.

Click, click, click—nothing! He swore he could feel those hands closing in.

Click, click, click, click—Jimmy could flick that lighter 20 times a second, but it wouldn’t catch.

Then—whoosh!—a flame! Light! He shoved the door again, harder this time. It opened—and hiss—the wind extinguished it again.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Meltdown again.

Somehow, he made it outside. Slamming the door shut, he bolted toward Tianyun Lodge. The lighter worked now, but visibility?

One meter. He stumbled and crawled his way there, burst inside, locked the door, and dove into a room. He unrolled his sleeping bag and hid inside, shaking like a leaf. Jimmy’s a normal guy, and he says that was the peak of fear.

It was freezing, so he lit the gas canister again, savoring a fleeting moment of warmth in his despair. But then… the flame started shrinking. Smaller, smaller, hiss—out. He tried relighting it—hiss—nothing.

No gas. No worries, he had a spare unopened canister… somewhere. He dug through his bag. Nothing. He lit the lighter to check. Empty. “Oh, crap!!!” It hit him—he’d left it in Qilai Second Fort.

“Forget it,” he thought. “I’ll just sleep.” Ten minutes later…