Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo Rhodes from Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have for you 3 spooky ghost stories from the creepypasta library. This month I’m featuring my Sandcastle Horror book which is available in paperback, PDF format, or on Kindle. For details on how you can get a signed or regular copy, visit my website at www.scarystorytime.com.
Now let’s begin…
Half-Head
by RagtimeOutlaw
When I was twelve in the summer of 1969, my family and I moved to a small white house in the middle of Caryville, Wisconsin so my mother could be closer to her parents. The house itself was rather unimpressive; it was a normal, white board house built in the mid-nineteen twenties, with no spooky atmosphere or any other haunted house crap. It was just a house. To be honest, I do not remember anything actually happening in the house until I was fifteen, when my older sister brought home a new boyfriend, Martin Keller.
From the start, I did not like him, because he was the type of person who believed in spirits and psychics. He even claimed at one point that a spirit had told him that he would sire a child who would be “baptized in blood and rise to rule a world of madness, because it was the will of an ancient god.” Just normal 70s weirdo mumbo-jumbo from an idiot. Anyway, one night Martin thought it would be fun to bring an old-fashioned planchette to the house in an attempt to conjure spirits to tell us the future. For hours, he and my sister sat in our living room trying to call forth the same spirit that had apparently told him about the evil child. After a while, they gave up and started making out on the couch until, much to their amazement, the planchette actually moved on its own accord.
I remember my sister almost tearing my bedroom door off the hinges just to drag me into the living room to see what the spirit had to say. At first, I accused Martin of somehow manipulating the planchette, until he stood and walked over to me. The three of us sat down around the table and began asking the spirit questions. Mostly we asked the usual: who are you, what do you want, who will I marry, and so forth. Eventually the spirit announced that they had to leave. However, its farewell message will be forever burned into my mind: “I’ll be seeing you, Jack.” That was it, nothing more except that it would be seeing me. I did not sleep for three days after that.
Months went by with nothing happening, but for some reason, I could never shake the feeling that someone or something was constantly watching me. At first, I would get the feeling that someone was watching me from far away while I was outside or walking to school, like whomever it was was sitting in a far-off tree with binoculars. Over the next couple of weeks, I began to feel like it was getting closer to me.
One night in November, I was up late working on some homework when I got the feeling that someone was outside watching me thorough my bedroom window. I remember working up the courage to walk over to the window and look into the backyard. Sure enough, someone was there. It was a tall man in what looked like a suit with a cigarette in his mouth, standing motionless next to the fence at the far end of the backyard. What made it even worse was that I could not see the man’s face, just his shadow and the glow of the cigarette. I jumped back from my window and tore downstairs to the kitchen where my parents were playing poker with some friends. I told them what I saw and my father stepped outside, but found no one. My parents and their friends all laughed it off, saying I was tired and overworked and that I should get some sleep. I nodded and went back to my room, but I still could not get the image of the man out of my mind.
Each day after that, it felt as if the man was stepping closer and closer to the house. Then, one night during an electrical storm, I saw him, literally right outside the window. I looked directly at him as a flash of lightning illuminated my room. The top of the man’s head was missing from the top jaw up, cigarette resting awkwardly on what remained of his bottom lip. I stared frozen in absolute terror at him for what seemed like hours until a pale white hand hit against the windowpane with a gut wrenching slap, almost as if someone had thrown raw meat against it. I screamed, and a strange garbled laugh filled my head. Suddenly, my sister and parents burst into my room, and the man was gone, but the laugh still echoed through my mind.
My parents wrote off what I saw as a nightmare, but installed aluminum blinds to prevent any more boogeymen with bifurcated heads from peeking in. They thought it would help me feel better, but I was outraged; I was not some little kid anymore and what I saw was no nightmare. I could not get my parents to believe me, but my sister did. She offered to let me sleep in her room for a while. I declined because I felt it was weird and told her it would be fine. Besides, it was impossible for me, or the man, to see through the blinds.
I regretted my decision almost immediately. That night, I awoke to the sound of something tapping on my window. I told myself to ignore it and curled up under my covers until I realized the tapping was coming from the inside. I froze, and my heart dropped into my stomach. He was in the room with me. I slowly peeked out from my covers to find nothing in the room. I then noticed that the overhead vent in the room was making the blinds tap against the glass. I let out a sigh of relief and rolled over, only to find out what the inside of a human mouth and throat looks like.
I tried to scream as the man slowly stood and leant over me, but the only sound that would escape my mouth was a pathetic squeak. I watched as his tongue began to writhe, and a strong voice bubbled out, “I. See. You. Jack.” I wanted to bolt out of bed and run, but I found I was frozen in place. “I. See. You. Jack. Jacky, Jacky boy I see you, I seeeeeeee you.” The man pointed to the opposite side of the bed. I turned to see what he was pointing at, and to my abject horror, the top half of his head was resting on the pillow next to me. “I seeeeeeeeeeee yoooooooooouuu, I seeee youuuu.” the voice laughed repeatedly, and then I blacked out.
That is it, no surprise ending or anything. I never saw the half-head man again after that. My sister ended up leaving Martin later that year; she said she couldn’t be with someone who had cursed her brother like that. I’m not sure what happened to Martin in the years to come. I think at one point I read that he was killed in a botched robbery at his home in the fall of 2000. However, my youngest nephew has been claiming that he sees the man at night. I do not think it means anything, but it still makes me wonder.
Brian’s Here
by Jdeschene
“Dad, Brian’s here!” said Jamie as she bounded down the stairs.
“Oh, really?” her father asked. “I didn’t hear the bell.”
She rolled her eyes. “You never do.”
Her father smiled and gave a little chuckle. “Well, if Brian’s here,” he said, “then you’d better let him in.”
Jamie twisted the knob and pulled the door open. There stood her best friend in the whole world. He was a little boy with golden hair that fell all around his face in little baby curls. Every time she saw his hair, Jamie remembered gleefully the day they met and how she’d mistaken him for a girl. “I’m no girl!” he’d exclaimed, and as soon as the confusion had cleared up, they were the best of friends.
Jamie nearly yanked Brian into the house. “We’re going to go upstairs, Dad,” she called.
“Okay,” said Jamie’s father. “Hi, Brian. Nice to see you again.” He waved and smiled.
“Hi, Mr. Davis,” Brian said, returning the wave. And with that, they headed up to Jamie’s room.
Once there, Jamie grabbed her new gaming cards from her dresser and promptly began to lay them out on the floor. She had been waiting to show them to Brian for a whole week, and now that he was finally here, she could hardly contain herself. “Let me show you what I got!” she eagerly exclaimed. “You’re going to love them!” Brian sat down across from her, and for the first few minutes of his visit, Jamie was so wrapped up in describing each card that she didn’t notice how quiet he had been.
“What do you think?” she asked at the end of her show and tell session.
“That’s all pretty great,” was Brian’s response. It had come with a notable lack of any passion or excitement whatsoever.
It was then that Jamie looked up at her friend and noticed that something was wrong. The boy, normally so energetic and connected, sat with his eyes cast down and not so much as a hint of a smile on his face. “Brian,” she inquired, “what’s the matter?”
He hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and said, “I have something to tell you, Jamie. It’s kind of good news, but kind of not.”
Jamie felt a hot chill run through her whole body. At last, she found her words. “What is it?” she asked.
Brian brought his eyes up to meet hers. “I have to leave here,” he said. “I’m going to go live with my mom soon.”
The sadness of his announcement hit Jamie hard, but she struggled to keep her composure. “Why?” she asked.
“My dad said so,” Brian explained. “He was upset one day and said, ‘You need to go be with your mom.’”
Jamie tried with all her might to make sense of what she was hearing. Finally, she gave up and asked, “Where does she live?”
“Really far away,” Brian said. “We’re probably not going to see each other anymore.”
“But… but what about on the computer?” Jamie asked desperately.
“No,” said Brian. “You know I don’t have email or Facebook.”
“But you could get them!”
Brian shook his head. “I don’t think so. Probably not when I’m with my mom.”
“But… but….” Jamie could no longer hold back her tears. “But I don’t want you to leave.”
For the first time, Brian began to tear up as well. “I know. I don’t want to leave, either. That’s why I’ve been here for so long. I wanted to stay with you….” His voice broke. “You’re my best friend.”
Propelled almost by something beyond themselves, the two children leaped into each others’ arms and shared a long embrace. Each held to the other, knowing this was their last chance to do so. When at last they separated, Brian stepped back and smiled weakly at Jamie. “You’re a good friend,” he said. “I’ll always remember you.”
Jamie smiled back. “You, too,” she said.
It seemed there was nothing left to do but walk Brian to the door, and so that’s what she did. She waved goodbye to her friend one final time, and he was gone.
When Jamie’s father heard the door from where he stood in the kitchen, he had no idea that it had closed on his daughter’s first significant friendship. He had always marveled at how fully realized this imaginary friend of hers seemed to be. She would go so far as to let him in and out of the house when he “visited.” He found it odd, but not wanting to quash his daughter’s creativity, he had even begun to say hello and goodbye to “Brian” whenever the opportunity presented itself. All the same, he was beginning to wonder when she’d grow out of the phase.
The Final Whistle
by MatthewAnderson707
Until January 2013, I didn’t believe in ghosts. I passed all the stories and so called accounts off as false. The whole concept of being alive, yet dead at the same time, made little sense to me. However, that month, I saw something that would change my perception of reality forever. It seemed like a ghost, but I can’t be sure as to what it really was…
I was free from work early that month as my employer gave everyone time off for Christmas. Taking advantage of this, I decided to re-connect with some friends in California. I drove from my home in Arizona to a motel near Los Angeles, which is where we would all meet up. Most of them lived around Los Angeles, so meeting at a motel in that area made sense. We sat down and started talking, reminiscing memories and discuss private things only friends should talk about. After about an hour, we finally started discussing our small trip to the northern coastline of the state. We would stay in a small town called Shelter Cove and go hiking one day on the seldom traveled Lost Coast Trail.
Three days after we met in Los Angeles, we arrived by car in Shelter Cove. After getting settled into our hotel, we walked around town for a few days, before finally preparing for our small hiking trip. It must have been a Sunday when we departed on our hiking trip, as the town was less active than it had been the day before, save for the church bells in the area. We met up with the trail west of town and began our long hike. We climbed around numerous rocks and trees and were treated with a great view of a seldom touched part of California’s vast coastline.
When evening came, we set up camp on the beach. After a few hours of telling ghost stories and catching up on our lives, we decided to call it a night. After about an hour, I woke up and found it impossible to fall back asleep. I decided to take a short walk to pass the time. When I left my tent, I noticed the air around me was enveloped in an eerie fog. Unlike most fog, there was something peculiar about this one. The fog seemed to be… glowing… But that’s impossible right? I mean, fog can’t glow… can it?
Shrugging it off, I proceeded to walk closer to the water. I sat down at the water’s edge and stared off into the distance, thinking about certain aspects of my life. I was rudely interrupted moments later by a fog horn… except this horn sounded more like an old steam whistle. I heard the whistle three more times, then everything fell silent. I guessed whatever boat it was had passed through the fog without much incident, as most boats do.
Five minutes later, the whistle started sounding again. As the whistle continued to sound, I noticed it had a somewhat haunting ring to it. Thirty minutes had passed and the whistle had not subsided. Moments later, the whistle was joined by the sounds of people screaming. Their cries were bloodcurdling and sent chills up my spine. After about a minute, the whistle stopped sounding and the cries started to die out. One by one, the screams and cries for help began to diminish, until there was nothing but complete silence.
Horrified at what I had heard, I was about to head back to my tent, when a dark figure appeared on the ocean’s horizon. It was hard to make out because of the fog, but it appeared to be an old steamship. A very large steamship at that. There were no lights shining onboard the ship and no noises were being made from it. The only activity besides the dark shape moving across the horizon was the thick black smoke coming from the vessel’s single smokestack.
Looking at this dark shape, I started thinking… what if this ship… isn’t real? That’s ridiculous though, if it wasn’t real, than how can I see it?! But the feeling just wouldn’t go away. The fact that no noise was coming from the vessel along with the lack of lights continued to fuel my suspicion. Furthermore, how many large steamships even still exist in the world, let alone California? As I continued to debate with myself over the strange vessel, the ship suddenly faded away. Even the thick smoke which had been emanating from it had vanished. Writing the whole incident off as a hallucination from my lack of sleep, I returned to my tent and was finally able to doze off.
When morning came, my friends and I prepared the breakfast we had packed, which mostly consisted of oatmeal and some granola bars. After we were finished eating, I walked to the edge of the water, to try and make sense of what I had seen the previous night. When I arrived, I noticed a peculiar object out of the corner of my right eye. It was a boiler. A rusty corroded iron boiler from an old steam vessel. Lying close to it was a large iron wall and some other rusted pieces of wreckage that were impossible to identify. The wreckage looked as if it had been there for more than one hundred years.
Close to the boiler, I noticed a small corked bottle with a paper inside of it. Curious, I opened the bottle and extracted the note. The words weren’t written in pencil or pen, but was instead written with what appears to have been… blood. The message was short and simple: 88. Never forget… I folded the note up and placed it into my pocket, then proceeded to rejoin my friends.
We finished our hike that afternoon and returned to Shelter Cove in the evening. After spending two more days in the small town, we went our separate ways, myself returning to my home in Arizona. Not long after I arrived back at my small apartment, I immediately sat down at the computer and looked for any shipwrecks that occurred around Shelter Cove. To my surprise, I came across one.
The vessel was a passenger steamship called the Columbia and sank in 1907 following a devastating collision with another vessel, killing 88 people… 88… that was the same number on the note I had found. Now frightened, I continued to read the story. Apparently the ship’s whistle had been sounded by the Captain near the vessel’s final moments and was reported to have died in an almost lifelike way… similar to the whistle I had heard.
After reading the rest of the story, I looked at the photograph given of the Columbia at the bottom of the webpage… It was the exact same ship I had seen off the beach that night! It all made sense now, the whistle, the number 88, the appearance and the location. I had just seen a ghost ship… but was it a ghost? I can never be quite sure as to what it actually was, but one thing is for certain. I’ll never forget what I saw that night… Never forget…
Thank you for listening. If you enjoyed these stories people make a like or comment or pass on to your friends. I’d like to thank the listeners and Patreon members including MadJoe, Bobbi Elliott, DrJoeBlob, PA Nightmres, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, Lana, and Patrick. If you would like to support the show by subscribing to the commercial free Patreon program or collecting merchandise visit www.scarystorytime.com/merchandise. You can also purchase my Sandcastle Horror series at Amazon. Details are on the website.
