Welcome to Creepypasta and True Scary Stories
I am your host Spooky Boo. Tonight I have for you 7 freaky ghost stories from the internet. Stories that will chill you to the bone! After listening, be sure to subscribe to my other podcast Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time where I write my own twisted tales of horror. In fact, you can get all of my podcasts commercial-free on Patreon by joining the Spooky Boo Club at www.spookyboo.club where you’ll find fun the Spooky Boosletter, club offerings, and sometimes even a story that is not suited for all audiences.
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Now let’s begin.
Story One
No One Lives Forever
Hello. I am no doubt one of the shadows in your life. One of the people that you don’t even begin to wonder if they even have a back story to their life. You just glance at me for a second and then mind your own businesses, be it social, work, family, or whatever else there is in this life. But, I do indeed have a back story to myself. And let me just tell you that you have, and probably never will experience this.
I walked out of my apartment with a big smile on my face. I was as happy as a lark. The sun was shining and the garden the landscaper had just put in was absolutely beautiful. The reason I was so happy was because I finally got a date. I finally found a girl that I actually liked, and she liked me back. She said she would meet me at the theatre at 2:00. So, I went on my way to the theatre.
When I met her, she was stunning. She was absolutely beautiful. She had on a red summer dress, with little flowers along the bottom of the dress. When she saw me, she twirled as if to say: “What do you think?” And, when she twirled, the flowers and the dress seemed to come alive. She really did pop out from the rest of the crowd.
We both looked at the list of movies and I decided to get tickets for Marley and Me. When we were outside of the theatre she giggled a bit, and said that it was kind of funny that the both of us cried so much. I could tell, that when we were both holding each other’s hand when we walked out of the lobby, we were both in love.
Let’s fast-forward a couple years. My friend, Chris, was always a close friend of mine, and I asked him when I should pop the question of marrying her. He asked me how many years we were together, and I said two whole years, and that tomorrow, in fact, was our anniversary. He said that tomorrow he was going to give me his car, and he was going to set something up, so that it feels special. I took the car and followed the directions Chris told me. I picked up my girlfriend and took her to the park, where Chris said to go to. On the way there, she asked what I got for her. I simply said something very special.
Chris was there waiting for us, and he said that he wasn’t expecting us here. So we walked and while she wasn’t paying attention, Chris slipped me the box with the ring and winked. When we got to the middle of the park, Chris said to stay put. So we just sat on the bench in front of an island of flowers of every variety. It was peaceful there- she didn’t mind it, and neither did I. Chris brought back an amp and a microphone. I asked him what he was going to do with it, but he interrupted me mid-sentence. He put down the amp and flipped it on. He got the audience’s attention and said that we were together for quite a long time, and that I had something to show her. I got out the ring, and I said that this was her present. And those next four words sent her spiralling into a happy lunatic.
“Will you marry me?”
Yes spouted from her mouth a billion times.
The wedding was wonderful. We set up our house in an ordinary neighbourhood. We planned to have kids, and even put a crib in the baby room. Until that one night.
I got a call from my wife and she said that she’ll probably be working late. I said that was okay, just as long as she gets home at a decent time. She said “Okay, mom,” and we both chuckled a bit. I said I love you and she said the same, and hung up. I didn’t know that would be the last time I would be talking to her.
At 11:00, I was playing some Team Fortress 2 when, all of a sudden, I heard some footsteps coming from the kitchen. I called out to my wife to see if she was there, but there was no answer. I exited out of the game, and went over to the kitchen to see if anyone was in there. Evidently, enough, there was no one there. Just as I was about to turn around to go back, I saw a figure out from the corner of my eye.
I looked back, and I saw my wife in a black dress. I settled down a bit, but something seemed odd about her. For one thing, she just looked directly ahead of her to the door leading outside. Then she started to walk. I noticed that when she walked, her footsteps didn’t have any sound. I called out to her again, but she didn’t turn her head towards me. I called out once again and asked her where she was going. No reply. Then the strangest thing happened. Just as she was walking to the door, she stopped for a second, and walked right through the door.
I saw her ghost. I swear to god, I saw something, something out of place in the world we know about now.
I went over to the door where she walked into, opened it and I saw nothing. Just the outside, a cool, crisp air was hitting my face. I closed the door and went back to my game, regarding all that I saw as a hallucination.
Minutes later, I received a call from the hospital. The person on the other line asked if I was the husband to the woman known as my wife. I said yes, and asked if she was okay. They replied with a simple two words:
“She’s dead.”
My heart skipped a beat. I stammered out a “What?” They said again that my wife was dead. The person said she had a heart attack while driving, and they found her dead at the wheel, crashed into a pick-up truck. Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe the news at all. It was like I wasn’t even experiencing life at all, and that I was just hearing things. They said that they would have some paper work for me tomorrow and that they were sorry for my loss. I hung up and dropped the phone. I didn’t even feel like doing anything at that moment, I just felt like dying. ‘How’ was the word that came up in my mind the most.
By now, I was sitting down on my couch, staring into space with tears running down my face. But then, the next moment I was standing up and I was facing my wife in the living room. She was still wearing that same black dress. She was staring at me with a look of dread on her face, and a hint of sadness. I asked her what she was doing here. She said that she wanted to say goodbye. She started to tear up. I wanted to wipe her tears away, but I couldn’t really move my arms. I just shushed gently.
I then said that she was the most lovely woman I had in my life, and that she’ll always be with me. She smiled and said she’d know she will. I then asked why, nothing else, just why. She then said “No one lives forever.” She could see that I started to tear up and we both started to cry a bit. Her hand moved towards my face, and she wiped my tears away. Her hand felt soft, and I wanted to feel her forever. And then she just said I love you. I said I love you too, and she disappeared into the air.
I woke up on the couch laying down. I glanced to the spot where I was standing with my wife. She wasn’t there.
I decided to go to bed and sleep.
I woke up the next day and expected to see my wife’s beautiful face. But when I looked, she wasn’t there.
The next day, when I went to the hospital, I heard that they found that she was pregnant and that the child died along with her. That made it all the more devastating.
When I went to the park, I went to the bench in the middle of the park. I sat down, and put my arm around where we used to sit. I watched Marley and Me on DVD later that day.
It’s been a year since then, and every time I walk past the nursery room, I hear the faint giggle of a little girl.
Written by Crickshaw
Story 2
An Old Building
Somewhere, in a forgotten part of England, there dwells an old building. If you ever visit the building, you’ll be shocked to find that it’s actually in good condition. The outside may be grey as you’d expect but there are no scratches or holes in the walls. You can get in with the right equipment (well, a crowbar). I would leave it alone but hey, you might be curious.
The inside is where the history truly is. There is evidence everywhere of what the building used to be. Broken toys, scattered crayons, some colourful badges, it’s clear that the place used to be some sort of day-care or after school club. It’s not a big place, but it’s big enough for about 40 kids. The lights still work, to your amazement, so you can go check out the other rooms (which you will).
Most are locked with keys that have been lost for a while. One is still open though. You can see something in the corner of the room. It looks kind of like a child, but you can’t see its face. The thing is curled up so at first it looks like a trick of your sight. When it starts to laugh, you find yourself being more than sure that it’s not a child, the laugh is too sad. It looks like a child, any you’ll try and come up with a reason that it’s here, but ultimately it won’t do you any good. Hey, since you were curious enough to wonder in you might as well stay there with it.
Story 3
A Paranormal Experience in Bangkok
This story takes place one summer in Bangkok, Thailand, about three weeks after had I arrived as a participant in an international exchange program. It was ultimately about respect for other cultures and some lessons you only learn the hard way.
My name is Anna, and along with 19 others from all over Southeast Asia I was enrolled in a university right beside the Chao Phrya river. But it was the week of the Buddhist New Year, or Songkran, so no classes were being held. Most of the students living in our dormitory on Borommaratchachonnani Road, Taling Chan District had gone back to their respective provinces for the holidays.
At twenty minutes past midnight, when my Indonesian roommate Widya had already fallen asleep, I heard frantic knocking on our door. I was already lying down on my bed and it was relatively late, so I was mildly annoyed. I thought it was one of the other girls on the floor, perhaps they had run out of toothpaste? There were about a dozen loud and heavy knocks that should have woken everyone on that floor because the walls were so thin. Beside our door was a frosted glass panel, and I saw a silhouette – someone was crouching there. It did not register to me as odd at the time.
I approached, placed my right hand on the locked doorknob, and asked. “Who is it?”
A woman started speaking in rapid, excited Thai, but the strange thing was that the sound was not coming from behind the door.
It was coming from behind me, above me, from my left and right, from everywhere at once.
After about three sentences she stopped, and the silhouette vanished. It was the kind of dormitory corridor where all footsteps echoed, but this time, I did not hear anyone walking away. I was rooted to the spot, afraid to turn around, but afraid of lingering near the door as well. Somehow I knew that what spoke to me was not human, or was no longer human, and I always assumed that if this ever happened, I would fall to the floor in a dead faint. But I didn’t. I turned around and went back to bed. I didn’t speak Thai, I wasn’t sure if that made the situation better or worse. I thought of waking Widya up, but I was also afraid of looking silly. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to fall asleep.
I woke up before Widya did the next morning, which was a miracle because she usually woke up first for her morning prayers. She was surprised to see me sitting up, and my facial expression must have told her that something wasn’t quite right. I told her what happened; after giving me a very nervous look she assumed her position on her mat facing the East, and started praying.
I woke up the other girls on the floor, gathered them in the corridor, and told them the same story. I remember that the other girls from the Philippines were spooked, as was Boupha, the only girl from Cambodia. The Vietnamese were a little calmer about it. The eldest girl, Dao from Laos, was visiting her sister who lived near Chulalongkorn, which was unfortunate because she seemed like the type who would have her wits about her at a time like this. She once told us that her home was haunted by spirits who shook her bed at night.
The boys in the program didn’t comment much, although one suggested placing a Buddha image in our room. Thavin from Laos taught me how to properly pay my respects to the Buddha image at the entrance of the dormitory with the full Buddhist bow, which I have since perfected. After dinner, Widya went to our room to attend to her evening prayers and thesis, while I stayed in the lobby with the others. About an hour later, she appeared in a blaze of panic.
“ANNA! ANNA! ANNA!”
She ran right into me and I hugged her, asking, “What happened? What’s going on?”
She said that she had fallen asleep but she woke up because someone was whispering in her ear in rapid Thai, and she saw a long lock of white hair across her chest. She said she couldn’t move at first, but when the whispering stopped she was able to get up and run downstairs.
Predictably, we were very alarmed at this point. I was raised Catholic but I wasn’t practicing anymore. The others who were tried to rebuke the spirit. Thavin, who could understand Thai, started talking to the few Thai students who were also in the lobby. The strange thing was that none of them were surprised. They told me, in English, that if the woman had white hair and was visiting us, then she was the building’s spirit guard, or chao tee. They said that they’ve all seen her before at one point or another. They also called my attention to strips of colorful cloth tied around a beam of wood at the opposite restaurant, and said that those were for the chao tee that lived on that piece of land. I’ve been seeing those strips of cloth all over Taling Chan, but I never bothered to ask what they were for.
Things were starting to make sense. But I was still wondering why, of all the occupied rooms on that floor, she was frequenting ours.
“Did you ask permission to stay?” a Thai student asked.
“What? What permission?” I said.
“Permission from chao tee, we always ask permission before staying.”
I felt ashamed for not knowing this, and I was so sorry for being disrespectful of the spirits. It turned out that for all the other rooms, at least one of them asked for permission to stay. It just so happened that they placed one Filipino and one Indonesian, who didn’t know about the practice, in the same room. The others knew about it because they grew up in Buddhist societies where this is common. The Thai students assured us that she meant no harm. If anything, she was trying to welcome us.
Widya and I mustered all our courage, marched right back up to our room, and asked the chao tee to grant us permission to stay. We spoke in our native languages, hoping that the sentiments will somehow transcend the language barrier.
Story 4
The Yellow House on the Hill
Have you seen it? The yellow house on the hill?
It’s a simple house. The old Cape Cod style of house, with yellow siding that gleams with dew early in the morning and a gravelly, grass-green roof. Compared to today’s McMansions, it’s small, but to those who once lived there, it was more than enough room. The yard is huge, filled with old toys and wild flowers; by now, it’s been overgrown by weeds and roses. So many roses.
They say there used to be other houses by it, but there aren’t anymore. They’ve all been knocked down as they were scheduled to be. The yellow house has not, despite it being condemned. The contractors refuse to look at it. The demolishers won’t go near it. Realtors pretend it doesn’t exist. There are many rumors surrounding it, and many theories as to why nobody will go there.
But I know the truth.
Long ago, a happy family lived there. Two kids, a girl and a boy. A dog, a cat, and happy parents. An altogether normal family, despite some….quirks. They lived there happily for many years.
Until the oldest child, the girl, reached thirteen. Mid-March, two months after her birthday, she committed suicide, taking as many pills as she could. Her family didn’t find out until the next day.
After that, it was like a curse had fallen over the family. The mother didn’t last long; she stabbed herself in the heart after slitting both of her wrists. The dog went next, being hit by a car. The cat died of natural causes. The boy contracted Ebola and died despite getting treatment.
The father was the last. He lasted a good thirty years longer than the rest of the family, dying of old age when he was around seventy years old.
After that, the rumors started. No person would buy the old house, though many looked at it. All of them reported feeling unwelcome there, as if some force wanted them out. Others refused it because of the strange figures they saw lurking outside of doorways and in closets. Yet others refused because of the mold everywhere, which is actually a very good reason to not buy a house.
Eventually, the town investigated the house. They found corpses in the basement rafters, hanging from the ceiling by their backs. Not only were the entire family’s bodies there (minus the father and including the by-now-mummified pets), but several missing children, a few women who had been reported missing a few months back, and a corpse that was so decayed and mutilated that the police didn’t know who it was until they did DNA testing, proving it was the father’s at the time fifty year old brother.
The house was condemned not too long after that, to no one’s surprise.
It was not too long after the house being condemned that teens from around that area started disappearing. Most of them were in the thirteen to fifteen age range and female, but a rare few were older and even fewer were male. At the same time, boys in the eight to ten range were going missing at an increasingly rapid rate, to the point that one was being abducted every other week.
The police were baffled. The kidnapper left almost no clues, and the clues they did leave all led in different directions. The only coherent clue was a piece of paper with GPS coordinates on it; the coordinates led straight to the yellow house.
The police dismissed it as another false clue at first. However, the piece of paper started popping up in the other cases as well, and the coordinates were all the same. They eventually checked out the house, and guess what they found on the upper floor?
They found the missing kids. Or what was left of them, anyway. Most of them were dead, strung up in a way that was very similar to how the bodies were strung up in the basement. The most recent missing teen was laid out on the bed, a book propped up on her head and chains wrapped around her body. An autopsy revealed that she’d died of a drug overdose, and several pill bottles were found in the bathroom.
In the other bedroom on that floor, the police found a still living six-year-old boy, also chained to the bed. He was surrounded by stuffed animals and parts of dead bodies, and had several infected cuts. On the ceiling was a macabre painting of a fallen angel with a stake through its heart, painted entirely with red paint. Further investigation of the painting revealed that it was painted in blood.
The police did catch the kidnapper, an Asian male of about thirty with spiky hair. The kidnapper was sentenced to several life sentences in prison with no chance of parole, ever.
If you go visit the house nowadays, you can catch sight of many a ghost or demon. Some of the strangest ones are also the least mutilated; for example, the cat ghost that reportedly rubs up against people, giving them cold shivers, all while yowling ‘NO’ at the top of its lungs. Or maybe the dog that has been seen wandering around the hillside, occasionally barking at nothing. Or the dark figure that stalks all who enter the house, sharp claws ready to tear apart flesh, but unable to touch living things.
The most disturbing, however, is the ghost girl who simply stands in the doorway of the room where the girl once slept. She is blurry, and you can barely see her, but she whispers things that you can’t catch. The whispers embed themselves in your mind, until you go mad.
Others have reported that occasionally, the entire house disappears, vanishing like it never even existed. The old, withered fence is still up, and the toys are still scattered around the large yard, but the house is gone. There’s not even a hole where it was.
It’s said that if a teen or child enters the house, they will never exit again. It does indeed seem like it is so, as teens and children who enter the house are later reported missing. Some say they can hear tortured screams shortly after the teen or child enters. Others say that they’ve seen blood splattered on the windows or seeping under the door.
So, traveller, I ask you once more.
Have you seen it? The yellow house on the hill?
Story 5
Echoes on the Radio
Back when I lived in my hometown, I would often go for late night drives on the back roads whenever I felt restless. The town was small, surrounded by forests and farmlands so once you got away from the main street there was hardly any traffic, even in the day. Once night fell, the roads were totally dead, the perfect place to go to think things over, or just step back and be alone. I used to turn the radio on low, scroll through the local channels, or just let my thoughts mull in my head to the background of the engine humming.
The last time I went out on one of these drives, however, it ended up giving me a lot more to think of than I had hoped for. At the time I was dealing with some personal stuff that I’d rather not admit to people that I don’t really know, but I hoped that once I got out on the road, alone, I would be able to start setting things straight in my mind. I pulled out onto one of the smaller highways right around the time that the sun was setting and turned on my radio to scan through the local stations. As usual in this area, most of them came in with some interference, a trade off you when you live in the more secluded parts of the country. The static was even worse than normal, and having a car with a pretty weak antenna, that was really saying something. I turned the dial back to off and decided that tonight I could get along with just the road noise for company.
It was a nice night, and I had left earlier than I typically did so I ended up straying pretty far from the my customary back roads and ended up in an area I wasn’t familiar with. This didn’t really concern me as I have a pretty good sense of direction and there was lots of gas still in the tank. I turned the radio back on in order to see if there were some better stations around these parts. Flipping through them got me some of the same stations as earlier, but even more garbled than before, as well as one or two new god awful pop country stations that seemed to be coming stronger than the rest. I kept scrolling through white noise until I came upon a pretty clear signal that sounded like a DJ talking in between tracks. Hopeful that I had finally found a tolerable station, I waited to see what song he would play next. He talked for a bit about how he would be getting to some new tracks later in the night, but first he had some things he wanted to talk about. He launched into a full scale deconstruction of the court system, how bullshit it was that someone could be accused of something with little to no evidence. He began naming off dozens of cases of wrongful convictions, and explaining about how even if you were proven innocent, you aren’t free and clear from legal costs, or the disdain of your peers. I hadn’t been listening to the station very long when the white noise started to crowd the signal, but it was still strong enough that he was mostly audible.
“You know, an accusation like that doesn’t exist in a bubble, rumors spread, and there is no such thing as presumption of innocence in the court of public opinion, But hey, that’s just the way it is.”
As static started to take over his voice, I remember hearing him say:
“You never know who really is there for you when you need it, and sometimes it turns out that there’s nobody.”
Right around then I lost the signal completely. It took me a few minutes to find a road to turn onto to get back in range, and slowly the signal started to grow stronger. It only could have taken a few minutes to get back onto a parallel road, but in that time he had gotten much more agitated and frantic, the first thing that came across the speaker being a lamentation of his own isolation, something along the lines of:
“Hell, God didn’t make man to handle things all on his own, it’s even worse when you get a little taste of what it’s like to count on someone, but to suddenly find out that at the slightest provocation they turn tail and run.”
He went on like this for a while longer, and my interest changed from some minor curiosity about this guy to genuine concern. I knew nothing about him and had only heard him speaking for a few minutes at most, but the inflection in his voice and what he was saying really drew me in. Meanwhile, he continued on his tirade: “Fuck, maybe they weren’t in the wrong after all, maybe I’m just such a problem to be around that they just needed an excuse to leave. Probably would make it easier on everyone if they never had to think of me again.” I knew that I had to try and find this guy, to talk him down, or at least understand what caused him to get to this point.
Based on how quickly I lost and regained the signal, I figured that the broadcast had a pretty limited range and it soon dawned on me that it must be the forest to my right, as I had been driving past the block when I first got within range, and had turned back onto when I picked him up again. At the time I assumed that the broadcast must be one of those smaller pirate radio stations, and that he was working out of the plot of land I was driving past at that very instant.
I figured there must be a driveway somewhere, for him to have gotten a radio outfit into the woods which made up the plot to the right of me, and I hadn’t remembered passing by any obvious ones while on the other two roads, so I kept my eyes peeled for one on this side road. Meanwhile the station had gotten disturbingly silent, with the once animated host not uttering a word. This worried me even more than when he had been frantic. Unsure of what this really meant, I started to speed up, now going well above the speed limit, desperately searching for a turn off, or opening where I could enter the dense forest.
The static picked up again as I got further down the road, and as much as I hated losing his broadcast, I had no choice but to keep driving until I saw a turn off. I nearly drove past it before I slammed on my brakes and made a hard right turn onto an overgrown, potholed, dirt road that led right into the heart of the woods.
Soon after I got on the road, the signal came back. He was much more quiet and reserved now, and very far away from the microphone. He was nearly inaudible until I cranked the volume as high as I could.
“So, I hope you enjoyed this last broadcast from the Red Cabin station, because I really fucking didn’t. I’m sure it wasn’t what you expected, but hey that’s life, ain’t it?”
In the background I could hear something being moved around, like a desk or chair being dragged across the floor. The last thing he said was:
“Who am I kidding, it’s not like anyone is really listening anyway.”
I heard a clattering, something big and heavy falling over, and the signal went silent. Not into static but completely silent.
It took a few very long minutes to reach the end of the dirt road after things went quiet. It opened into a kind of semi-clearing with lots of brush and some short, stunted saplings. I could see nothing but woods surrounding me, with the exception of the occasional pair of headlights driving on the highway in the distance. There were no lights shining from a cabin’s windows, and no shadows in the woods that could even look like the outline of a building. I got out of my car to get a better look, standing in the glow of my headlights, I circled the clearing. As I got to the far left of the clearing, I got a better look at one of the shadows I thought was just another tree, and as I closed in on it I saw that it was the stump of a small radio tower, the type that old TV antennas would be mounted on. I could see now that it was badly rusted, with some pits so deep in the frame that they ran all the way through.
Despite the condition of it, I couldn’t help but feel vindicated, that this could certainly have been where the signal could have originated. Spurred on by this, I ran across the clearing, looking for anything that could bolster this discovery. About half way across, however, I tripped and fell flat on my face. When I looked back to see what had sent me sprawling, I could clearly see a fragment of concrete sticking out of the ground. I rose to my feet, and looking around I saw the outline of a concrete foundation for a small building, or cabin.
I searched the entire woodlot that night, desperate to find the broadcast station of the tiny radio channel, and discover the fate of this strange narrator. In the end, there was only the foundation and a crooked antenna tower, and I had no choice but to get back in my car and take the long drive home. As I drove out of the clearing, I noticed that the white noise had come back and I left the radio off for the rest of the night.
For a short time after, I asked around the area if there were any pirate radio stations out in the sticks, or if anyone knew of the broadcast. None of my friends had heard of any local independent broadcasters, certainly none by the name of “Red Cabin Station”.
Undeterred, I asked my parents, and their friends. A few remembered tuning into a illegal stations in their youth, and told me of the weird unlicensed music they heard presented by nearly deranged DJ’s, and how interesting it was to them at the time. But none had heard of the one I encountered, and most even seemed to be utterly bemused by the idea that there would be any around in modern times.
The only time I got anything remotely close to closure in my experience was talking to the elderly clerk at the county gas station. He didn’t know anything about the “Red Cabin” per-say, but he expressed a great interest in my story. Once he heard the whole thing through he relayed to me some folk knowledge; radio waves didn’t just fade once a broadcast finished, the energy from those transmissions would bounce around space, the more energy in the broadcast, the longer it would stick, just like an echo.
These days I don’t listen to the radio often, the last thing I want to do is find another echo like that.
Story 6
Emerald Street
I grabbed a chair and hit it, again and again, but each time I did, I felt the pain in my head get stronger. I fell to the floor as I saw all that I had come to know swirl to blackness before me as I emitted a scream.
There was no doubt that there was something wrong with the house on 49 Emerald Drive. We moved here in the Summer of ’96. My wife Jodie had always wanted to live in a small neighborhood, and 2 years after welcoming our second child into the family, we decided that it was time to make the move.
49 Emerald Drive was a large, deep green house, (sort of ironic because of the street name…) with towering windows and 4 floors including the attic. The neighborhood was small, alright. It had only about 12 houses, including ours, on the entire street. We didn’t care, though. The house came with beautiful decor, and was about half the amount of money that our old house was. My wife was purely overjoyed. I was a little bit uneasy at first. The house had a strange feel to it. I blew it off, though. It’s normal to have a touch of moving anxiety, right? Still… I knew that there was something wrong here.
This is when the weird stuff started to happen. Within the first week, things started to change. It was only little things at first, a can being knocked over in front of my eyes, my son Tobias’ toy blocks being built in different towers without anyone touching them, and only one time did I put every glass in the kitchen away and come back to them all being broken all over the floor. My wife never saw these events happen, and neither did my 2 children. I figured that it was the wind, or our dog, Smokey might have knocked down the glasses, though I’m not sure how.
While all of these things were happening, no matter how crazy, I seemed to be the only one who saw it. During the summer, I was outside one early morning, helping my wife move some flower pots. We were laughing and joking in the pale sunlight as we walked along, until as we walked towards an already moved flower pot, the pot levitated about 2 feet forward and crashed at my feet. I was surprised, and called back to my wife if she saw what just happened.
“What are you talking about, David?” She asked, clearly confused.
“Well, that flower pot just got up and flew at me!” I defended myself. “I swear it did!”
“Dear, you’re over reacting. The pot simply fell off the table! Can you please help me with this?” She sighed, struggling with both of our pots of tulips.
“But I swear, it looked like an invisible being picked it up and dropped it at my feet!” I defended myself as I helped her with the job.
“Okay, David, I believe you. Can we just get this done please?” she said, clearly exasperated.
“Yeah… Okay…” I sighed quietly. I had seen what I had seen, and I remember it like it was yesterday. It was quite a shock that I was the only one that experienced it, though.
After this happening, I decided to install some cameras in our house to try and prove that this was not normal. They weren’t all that fancy, just some cheap pre-owned camcorders. After a week of no luck, I finally got some evidence.
I checked the tapes every night before I go to bed, just to make sure that I didn’t miss anything that may have happened. After dressing and getting ready to go to sleep, I noticed a scene of my children, April and Tobias playing innocently in the living room with their toy blocks. They eventually got bored, and went to go look for entertainment elsewhere. As soon as they left the room, their block “castle” was knocked across the room, spreading blocks all over the floor. “Jodie!” I cried, calling my wife into the room.
“What is it, Dave?” She called back, a toothbrush muffling her voice.
“You’ll never believe this! Come quick!” I cried in an excited yet slightly set off tone. When she came into the room, I showed her the tape right away.
She was quiet for a moment, up until she asked sharply, “Is this some kind of joke?” “What do you mean?” I asked. It was as clear as day!
“David, this tape is static.”
“No, Jodie, it’s not. I’ve watched this at least a dozen times, it’s NOT static.” I cried, pulling the camera back toward me. Lo and behold.. Black and white laced the screen entirely. It was static.
“No, Jodie, it happened! I caught it on tape! I saw it!” I was truly shocked. “You have to believe me!”
“Then why is there nothing on the tape, Dave?” She was clearly overtired and fed up with my suspicions. “…You’re right… Maybe I just imagined it.”
“Maybe you did. I’m going to bed now, okay?” She yawned as the turned out the light next to our bed.
The worst… was on July 19th. I woke up in the middle of the night, sitting upright and breathing heavily. I didn’t recall any nightmare, so this confused me. I looked around the room, and seeing nothing, I went back to bed. That is until I heard something that gives me chills reciting it.
A cough.
And not just any cough, it was a deep cough of a man’s. It almost sounded like a growl. I laid motionless, racked with fear of this man apparently in my house. A million questions crossed my mind. Should I get out? Should I call the police? Should I wake my wife? I slowly sat up in my bed and placed my bare feet on the freezing hardwood. As I walked through the house, every thing that I passed seemed to be frozen in time and I was starting to get paranoid. I walked slowly down the stairs and saw, to my horror, that the downstairs was madness. The armchair was springing up and down, and there was a small lump under the rug, zooming back and forth with great speed. The table was rocking back and forth to the point of nearly tipping over. I grabbed a chair and hit the strange bump under the carpet, again and again. Each time I did, I felt a sudden pain in my head get stronger. I fell to the floor as I saw all that I had come to know swirl to blackness before me, as I emitted a scream.
“Well we seem to be able to make a guess about what happened to your husband, Mrs…?”
“Jodie. Jodie Bernard.”
“Well, Mrs. Bernard, it seems that your husband David Bernard always had something wrong with his mind. When you moved here, a childhood fear of strange occurrences struck him, making his condition worse. We can diagnose him with schizophrenia right away, because when we interviewed him, he continued to say that the items of furniture in your house were mocking him and trying to kill him. He is completely delusional at the moment, so we can assume that all of the things that he claimed were happening to him were either exaggerated or completely untrue. There could be other conditions, but we are not sure at the moment.”
“Well is there anything that we can do? He is a father to my children. I can’t make them lose their own father!”
“Mrs. Bernard, we can’t do anything right now. I’m sorry. He needs to stay here for the moment. But we can assure you…”
“It’s for the best.”
Story 7
Rotten Cave
A few of my friends told me about this cave deep in the depths of the forest in our neighborhood. Apparently, the legend goes as this:
A cartographer was looking around the forest. He eventually found a cave. He went inside, wondering what it will lead into. Surprisingly, it was very large, except for the entrance. He noted that it was so huge, a waterfall could fit in here. But there was no waterfall. There wasn’t even a source of light. It was very dark, and the air smelled rotten, hence the name Rotten Cave. He luckily had a lamp with him (This was in the 1800s, by the way), and was horrified to see dead rotting corpses in there. He rushed to the entrance to tell everybody of his discovery, but the entrance was blocked with stone. He tried furiously to get out, but it was no use. Then, he felt a cold breath down his neck. He was never heard from again.
I got to admit, it does seem like a pretty scary ghost story. But I didn’t believe it. There must be a million dozen other ghost stories that were probably just like it. So when my friends asked me to go with them to the cave and check it out, I didn’t hesitate.
Justin, David, Carter and I delved into the deep forest in the fall afternoon. All the trees had no leaves on them, and it was a pretty gloomy day. Good day for a ghost hunt, I thought. We were prepared for anything. First, we all had flashlights, with fresh batteries. We also had a horn so if one of us was separated, we would blare the horn so we would know where we were. We also had walky talkies, if there was a split entrance. We found the cave, and reluctantly, we went inside.
As the legend described, the air smelled foul. As if rotten eggs and sour milk was left here for years. We turned on our flashlights and off we went. We walked through the stoney entrance. There was a medium sized cracked that we could fit through. We squirmed into the tiny crack. Halfway through, we heard Carter scream. Turns out it was just a spider web. Carter was a scaredy cat. He didn’t want to go in the first place, but instead of being at home, he decided to come with us.
We emerged through the crack to see the biggest space we have ever seen. But it wasn’t beautiful. The walls were basically yellow and the air still smelled horrible. So we continued on. I started to feel a little frightened, mainly because our flashlights started to stop working. We went on to the rumbly rocks that we stepped over. That’s when we noticed that Carter was gone.
We used our walkie talkies to communicate with him, but all we heard was static. We tried again and again, but nothing worked. The only words we could make out were “Stay….Get a…Hel-“. We blared our horns, hoping that Carter would come. He didn’t. We focused our attention on finding Carter. We walked all around the place like it was a maze. But we couldn’t find him. He disappeared.
David proposed we get out of the cave, but Justin said that we should go forward. We still had more ground to cover, and we didn’t even find any rotting bodies. I had to agree with him, because we might find Carter wandering in the depths of the cave. So we continued. The air started to smell even worse than it was before. How could that have happened? Soon, the smell got much more horrid. That probably means the bodies are close.
I started to shiver, as the air got colder. Then all of a sudden, everything became still. There was no smell, and it was very cold. We all felt it, and we all started to become frightened. David just kept on saying we should go. Justin said we had to find Carter. I told everybody to stop. I heard footsteps. We all thought it was Carter. Coming out of the darkness was a yellow rotting corpse slowly shifting towards us.
Naturally, we all screamed and ran away as fast as our young feet could go. David tripped on a rock as we continued to run. All we last heard from him was his screams echoing inside the cave. I kept on rushing towards the crack that we went through. I was completely horrified to see the crack was sealed off. I also realized that Justin wasn’t with me. I was all alone, weeping and sobbing to myself.
I should have never have come here, I thought. I’m stuck here forever. I heard bones coming from all sides. I stood completely still, awaiting my doom. The last thing I felt was a cold breath going down my neck.
Thank you for listening. If you enjoy tonight’s show, please head over to the website at www.creepypastascarystories.com and make a comment or you can visit me on social media at Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time on facebook, twitter, and Instagram. That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you in your nightmares.
