A long-ass time ago, I was in the 6th grade, and they decided to send us all to some little camp... thing, for a couple days. I remember bits and pieces of it, but I definitely remember the story my cabin's leaders told us. It was the legend of Goatman. I looked up the legend recently, turns out there's a different version originating in North-East USA, but I'm from Wisconsin, and our version is weirder, I think, but still pretty creepy.
From what I recall, basically, this guy's out in the woods with his goats. For some reason, he's bat-squeak insane and decides to eat his legs, replacing bits of it as he went along with pieces of his goats, eventually turning into a sorta satyr/golem hybrid abomination. Oh, and now he's becomes slightly less insane, because instead of feeding on himself or his goats, he feasts on whatever humans are nearby. Conveniently, our camp was right next to a big spooky forest. Lovely.
I'm 12 years old with an imagination so overactive that, at the age of 24, I can WATCH a Let's Play of Amnesia and I become paranoid that a Brute will appear out of thin air and rend my flesh. Oh yeah, I didn't get much sleep that night.