Need some scary stories for those nights by the campfire? Then look no further! We’ve got you covered. These stories may or may not be true.
Redditors submitted their own creepy stories, and my gosh are they ever creepy. Warning – read at your own risk.
I used to live in a small building downtown. One of the reasons I moved out was the bad neighborhood, including this guy in the apartment right over mine. It was a weird looking fella who mostly kept to himself. Around midnight though, there was frequently a strange noise that got on my nerves. It wasn’t loud, to be fair, but I have really light sleep so it was hard to get my eyes shut with those little bumping sounds going on and on. It reminded me of high heels walking about, but not as loud, as if the person causing the noise was actually trying to be silent. After a few days, I realized the pattern was always the same, like a recording played over and over with random intervals in between. And that went on for the best part of an year, always the same sequence of bumps, slowly tattooed into my mind, sometimes for hours straight during the night.
It was only several years later, helping my daughter with her homework, that I learned a little bit of morse code. She knocked on the table with her knuckles and a shiver immediately went through my spine as I recognized that exact pattern. When I asked her what it meant, she laughed. “It’s the easiest one, daddy” she said. “It’s the one to call for help.”.
A sound wakes you up, sounded like a knock on your front door. It’s way past midnight, you’re lying on the sofa with the TV on static. The house is dark, the lights are off. You’re all alone. You look out the window, see there’s a full moon, shining its light through the glass pane.
You get up and head towards the front door. You look through the peephole. No one outside. You open the door. Find no one. You check around the porch. Still no one. Maybe kids were playing tricks on you.
Annoyed, you shut the door, turn off the TV, close the window, and head upstairs to your bedroom for the night.
Julia knew she was smart. She was one of those clever children, the kind of child who figures out early on that parents arent all-powerful and all-knowing.
The first time she realized this was when she got scared. There had been a noise in her room, coming from under her bed, or from the closet.
Julia ran down the hall, crying, Mommy! Daddy!
Whats wrong, honey?
I huh-heard a m-monster, Julia glubbed.
She expected them to comfort her, or roll their eyes, or get annoyed. Instead, they jumped up immediately and raced to her bedroom, where they checked under the bed, inspected the closet, and tested the window lock. They poked, prodded, and scoured every inch.
Julia caught on quickly. She knew what they were doing. By taking her fears seriously, they were showing their little girl that she was safe and loved. They had probably read about it in some book.
But the lesson Julia learned was that she had power. Thereafter, waking her parents became a nightly event. Julia would scream and cry, they would rush to her bedroom, and Julia would hide her grin behind tears. But not once did they ever complain.
One night she could stand it no longer, and she burst out laughing when Daddy fell down while examining the light fixture, as if a monster could fit up there.
Whats so funny? he asked, rubbing his backside.
You, Julia smirked. You always believe me.
Daddy wasnt angry. He just looked at Mommy.
Once, he said quietly, just once, we didnt believe your brother.
And Julia, an only child, did not sleep well that night.
We bought an old house, my boyfriend and I. Hes in charge of the new construction converting the kitchen in to the master bedroom for instance, while Im on wallpaper removal duty. The previous owner papered EVERY wall and CEILING! Removing it is brutal, but oddly satisfying. The best feeling is getting a long peel, similar to your skin when you’re peeling from a sunburn. I don’t know about you but I kinda make a game of peeling, on the hunt for the longest piece before it rips.
Under a corner section of paper in every room is a persons name and a date. Curiosity got the best of me one night when I Googled one of the names and discovered the person was actually a missing person, the missing date matching the date under the wallpaper! The next day, I made a list of all the names and dates. Sure enough each name was for a missing person with dates to match. We notified the police who naturally sent out the crime scene team.
I overhead one tech say yup, its human. Human? Whats human?
Maam, where is the material you removed from the walls already? This isnt wallpaper you were removing.
Onto the world was born a three-eyed angel, with one eye that could see the past, one eye that could see the present, and one eye that could see the future.
On the first day, locals assembled to watch as the angel opened his eye to the past. He saw all the horrors we had endured and caused: the bloodshed, the murders, the pointless abuse, and the centuries of strife. He shed a single tear for every victim, until hed cried so many tears the eye rotted away.
On the second day, the word had spread to nearby villages and they joined the locals as they witnessed the angel opening his eye to the present. He saw the wars in the Middle East, the famine in the South, the corruption and the greed. Once he had seen it all, he sewed his eye shut so it would never open again.
On the final day, a crowd of thousands had amassed at the gates to watch the three-eyed angel as he opened his eye to the future. It took only an instant before the angel shrieked, swung his hand up, and gouged his eye out.
He had been given the watch on his tenth birthday. It was an ordinary grey plastic wristwatch in every respect except for the fact that it was counting down. “That is all of the time you have left in the world, son. Use it wisely.” And indeed he did. As the watch ticked away, the boy, now a man, lived life to the fullest. He climbed mountains and swam oceans. He talked and laughed and lived and loved. The man was never afraid, for he knew exactly how much time he had left.
Eventually, the watch began its final countdown. The old man stood looking over everything he had done, everything he had built. 5. He shook hands with his old business partner, the man who had long been his friend and confidant. 4. His dog came and licked his hand, earning a pat on the head for its companionship. 3. He hugged his son, knowing that he had been a good father. 2. He kissed his wife on the forehead one last time. 1. The old man smiled and closed his eyes.
Then, nothing happened. The watch beeped once and turned off. The man stood standing there, very much alive. You would think that in that moment he would have been overjoyed. Instead, for the first time in his life, the man was scared.
If youre reading this note, Im sorry. I assume youre in the same situation as me—that smug bastard drugged you and dumped you in these catacombs, with only a candle to find your way out.
I dont know how many people hes done this to, but there have probably been a lot. He wouldnt spend so much time on it otherwise, would he? He told me the catacombs are a maze, and hes set traps and deadfalls at every turn. But he promised theres one safe way out, if Im lucky enough to guess the correct path.
Im not lucky. Im just an art student, here on holiday. Theres no way Im getting out alive. But I want someone to. I want revenge.
Im sure you do, too, so lets help each other. I still have my sketchbook and pencils. Before each turn, Im going to leave them behind for the next person, writing down which way I went. If I survive to another passageway, Ill come back and leave a page like this one. If I dont, then its up to the next person to carry on and go the opposite direction.
Eventually, if we keep leaving breadcrumbs, one of us will escape. Get to the police and find that bastard. Do it for those who didnt make it.
My name is Jeff. I went left here.
Reading the note by candlelight you feel a glimmer of hope, until you realize youre reading from the sketchbook itself. Jeff never returned to tear out the page, and youre the first person here since him.
You look to your right, where the dark maze awaits.
Everyone loves the first day of a new job, right? New colleagues, new friends. It’s a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.
I like the first day of work for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can… sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.
A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say.
The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a walking stoplight. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.
With that in mind, I always get to work very early so I can scout out my colleagues’ fates. The first man who walked in was basically radiating red. Too bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our boss stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.
A Disney Cast Members’ top priority is the comfort and safety of our guests. For this reason, all Disney World employees must follow these rules. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary action.
Ask to examine the photos our guests have taken. Be friendly. Check for abnormalities. If any are found, call for security. Guests may be distracted with free merchandise.
Dead alligators are common around the Lagoon. Simply evacuate the area, call security, then take note of how much has been eaten.
There is only one Mickey out at once. If you find a second Mickey having an autograph session, check for eye holes. All Disney costumes have eye holes.
If you don’t find eye holes, allow the session to continue, but disallow photos. Call security immediately after the session concludes.
If you spot a second Mickey off to the side, lure him into the tunnels. That’s what the ducks are there for. Leave immediately afterwards, and do not look back.
The Disney World security unit does not wear specially marked clothing. If you see someone wearing a shirt that says “Disney Security”, shut down that section of the park immediately.
Following these rules will help ensure a safe and pleasurable trip to the happiest place on Earth. So stay knowledgeable, and stay safe.
I am a time traveler.
Or I mean I was.
You see, I was capable of travelling time however I pleased, past or present.
I was a scientist with a great mind, I think, being the only person in my time (no pun intended) to discover time travel. I say I think because I don’t really remember my past. When I discovered this ability, all I remember was euphoria. My vision sparked colors I’ve never seen before, my body dissipated into millions of tiny particles, and suddenly, I’m in another dimension of time. Amazing, right? The thing is, whenever I travel time, through that tunnel that propels all of the particles and atoms that are a part of me, I lose a portion of my memory, somewhere in that jumble of hyperspace. My first time travel, I forgot pretty much everything.
Ever since then, I’ve taken caution to how I time travel and how often I do it. I chose to limit my abilities to inhibit the possibility of forgetting something important. I’ve forgotten a multitude of things, some smaller than others. Around a year ago, I forgot the color of my hair, only to remember immediately upon seeing my reflection in the mirror. But it could get much worse, as I once forgot to how to breathe, forcing my own body to jump the engine when I passed out to allow myself to breathe on my own.
It was my curiosity that screwed me over.
On June 18, 9214, scientists, with the assistance of advanced supercomputers developed a prototype, an invention capable of previewing possible occurrences of forthcoming events. The minds of this millennium were able to see the freaking future. The display, provided by code and text, made expert computer programmers look like toddlers playing with C++. Nevertheless, it was read, making its predictions. It ran for 3 years, producing accurate images of the future. But in 9217, it ceased to continue. The image of the end date was incoherent, even to the damn supercomputers. Scientists theorized this would be the end of existence, the complete opposite of the big bang. Religious wackos marked this as the apocalypse and the end of God himself. I wanted to know better.
It provided a date of the year and a hazy image of a dark and decaying earth, just months before the end date. Being a time traveler, I enjoyed having the information no one else had. It made me feel wonderful. That’s why I decided to go there, to find out what the hell happens and go down in the books.
And I did. Boy, do I regret it.
I was trembling, my bowels loosened, my stomach turned. I was terrified.
Not because the tall man with the inhuman grin on his face was walking towards me.
Not because the deafening screams that were in my ears didn’t resemble humans.
Not because I had just found hell on earth.
But because I forgot how to time travel.
It was one a.m. and Guy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadnt moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right, and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home.
Why did you run, you idiot? Hed never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone.
Why not just go to the police right now? You can afford a lawyer.
Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. His body trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light.
Mr. Halverson? asked the grim officer.
He let out a defeated sigh. Yes. Let me—
I am terribly sorry, but Im afraid I have some bad news. Your sons bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. Im very sorry for your loss.
Ive been able to read minds since I was a child. Its not really like how you see in the movies, though. Its not like listening to the radio. Its much more immersive. I experience everything as if Im really there. Its a thrilling experience when you read the right minds. The trouble is really with finding minds worth reading.
Frankly, reading adults is as fun as doing taxes. Kids minds, on the other hand, are amazing. Theyre not bogged down with work and stress and dissatisfaction. The mind of a child is filled with imagination and adventure. Thats why I became a kindergarten teacher.
I sit at my desk and watch as my class colors. I smile as they doodle away with their crayons. I reach out and peek into their minds. In an instant, I take off with Carlos in a rocket ship, hurtling past swirling galaxies. I visit far-off planets full of blob-like aliens and two-headed martians. I smile and move on to Marcy. I can smell the candy canes and jelly beans as Im pulled into a veritable candyland, complete with gumdrop castles and caramel waterfalls. She plays hopscotch with gingerbread men, giggling her musical little laugh.
Im about to move on to Thomas when I feel a tug at my dress. I look down to see Sarah. Shes one of the most adorable little girls Ive ever seen. Beautiful brown curls, big puppy dog eyes, and a gleaming smile.
Miss Dupree, I made this for you! she exclaims, handing me a paper. I take it from her and see myself in stick figure form. I Luv Ms. Doopry is scrawled across the top in multiple colors.
I love it! I exclaim and give her a great big hug.
Sarahs only been with the class for a couple days and I have yet to have a peek at her hopes and dreams. I reach out and touch her mind. And I nearly vomit.
I choke as Im hit with wave after wave of the hot, fetid stench of death. My minds eye is blinded by a darkness which seems almost alive, spilling into my brain, seeking to blot out everything it touches. In the void, I feel slimy coils roiling around me, wrapping around my legs, pressing against my face, a gigantic beast hungrily probing the darkness in search for food. And then a keening wail rises up, nearly bursting my eardrums. The screams of thousands of souls, crying out in sorrow. Crying out for death.
And then Im back in the classroom. I let go of Sarah and compose myself, hoping she cant see me shaking.
Thats a lovely picture, Sarah, I say, nearly whispering. Now go along and get ready for snack time, alright?
She nods happily and skips off. I watch her as she goes. The minds of children are the most wonderful thing in the universe. But whatever that thing in the blue dress is, it is no child.
Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire?
No, not the sexy kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The kind that snarls as you enter, like a beast about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken, hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing though your legs refuse to? Have you felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink?
Have you shuddered with fear when it places one clawed hand atop your head and another under your chin so it can tilt you, exposing your neck? Have you squirmed as its rough, dry tongue slides down your cheek, over your jaw, to your throat, in a slithering search that’s seeking your artery? Have you felt its hot breath release in a hiss against your skin when it probes your pulse—the flow that leads to your brain? Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savoring the moment? Have you then experienced a sinking, sucking blackness as you discover that not all vampires feed on blood—some feed on memories?
Well, have you?
Maybe not. But let me rephrase the question:
Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten why you came in?
Tom sat on the hard wooden staircase watching the front door, waiting. He really had to leave, but right as he was about to go an amazing joke came to him and he couldn’t keep it to himself. Since his daughters were due to come meandering through the door at any moment he decided that postponing for a few minutes wouldn’t cause any harm. His daughters usually rolled their eyes and let out exacerbated sighs when he delivered his comedy masterpieces, but they still smiled.He never was sure if the smiles were because of his unsurpassed hilarity or if they were laughing at his lame attempts at humor. Either way, nothing brightened his day more than seeing his girls with smiles adorning their beautiful faces.That is why he was delaying his departure, he had the dad joke to end all dad jokes and he hoped it would eventually bring a smile to their faces.
The door knob began to turn. Finally! Tom rose, hovering above his crumpled lifeless body as the girls entered the house. “Girls, watch out for that top step.” he chuckled “It is a real killer!” After delivering his witty gem he stopped resisting and relaxed as he was pulled into the light.
Little Emily vanished last year. Now theyre pouring new sidewalks in my neighborhood, and Ive found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. But it was written in reverse. And from below.
My daughter woke me around 11:50 last night. My wife and I had picked her up from her friend Sally’s birthday party, brought her home, and put her to bed. My wife went into the bedroom to read while I fell asleep watching the Braves game.
“Daddy,” she whispered, tugging my shirt sleeve. “Guess how old I’m going to be next month.”
“I don’t know, beauty,” I said as I slipped on my glasses. “How old?”
She smiled and held up four fingers.
It is 7:30 now. My wife and I have been up with her for almost 8 hours. She still refuses to tell us where she got them.
I don’t know why I looked up, but when I did I saw him there. He stood against my window. His forehead rested against the glass, and his eyes were still and light and he smiled a lipstick-red, cartoonish grin. And he just stood there in the window. My wife was upstairs sleeping, my son was in his crib and I couldn’t move I froze and watched him looking past me through the glass.
Oh, please no. His smile never moved but he put a hand up and slid it down the glass, watching me. With matted hair and yellow skin and face through the window.
I couldn’t do anything. I just stayed there, frozen, feet still in the bushes I was pruning, looking into my home. He stood against my window.
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