Scary Stories

A collection of scary stories, open till Halloween night. 25 points for each story~

Once upon a time, I was going to go into the fridge for a cookie. But they were all gone. SOMEONE ATE ALL THE COOKIES, but I was the only one living in the house! Duh duh duuuuuh.

-Haru.

Once there was a nice old lady who had a lovely little dog. One day, the old lady heard on the radio that a crazy murderer had escaped from jail and that she should lock all her doors and windows. So she locked every door and window in the house except one tiny one to let some air in. She thought that a murderer would never get in through there.

So that night she went to bed as usual. She knew everything was okay because when she put down her hand the dog licked it. But later in the night she heard a drip, drip, drip. She put her hand down and the dog licked it and everything was okay, so she went downstairs to check out the tap. But the tap wasn't dripping. So she went to bed again. And everything was okay. She woke up again later in the night, though, so she thought the dripping sound must be coming from the shower. She went into the bathroom, and there was her dog, dead, hanging in the shower, dripping with blood, all its intestines hanging out.
Written on the mirror was: "Humans can lick, too!" And behind her in the mirror, she saw the murderer.

Scary but true:
My friends and I were doing some standard paranormal investigations in a cemetary mausoleum. TWo were inside this one mausoleum doing evp and couldn't get in touch with the other group via radio. They went to leave and the male of the group was pushed by something so hard he fell and droped the radio. they came outside to tell us what happened and ask why we didn't answer the radio. The radio switch had been flipped off and noone had touched it. (Will continue the account next post.)

Well I used to work at the local castle which has been converted and repaired into a museum. The place is big, narrow corridors and all that. Lighting is dim in some areas to properly illustrate some smaller conditions people used to live in.

There's an old chapel that's now filled with old wooden idols of saints, most of them robbed of their golden ornaments and said to bring bad luck or to be cursed due to it. The hall itself is always very cold and damp to keep the idols from drying up too much and decaying, but it's the ever present cold that kept people from staying and the feeling of eyes staring.

A floor farther and you get to the King & Queens hall's, from there forward you'll get to the Queen's chamber at the end. There's a cabinet that people don't know you can move. Behind it is a display case of a skeleton dug up from the courtyard.

Something about people walking past by without knowing its right next to them is giggles inducing to me, just hope for their sake they never ask.

Then there's the usual tripe about a hanged woman floating in the silver tower, but that's neither here nor there. What's interesting is that the cleaning women hate the dungeon, tourists hate the place too, usually the Asian ones who claim to keep seeing spirits there and people walking around before opening time or after closing. Which besides the security is impossible due to the electronically locking doors.

I'll try to remember some other stuff.

I've lived in my house for 12 years now, and I'm certain it is haunted. Around when I was 12 I was reading a book in the corner of the living room when I heard someone call my name. It wasn't a voice I recognised and it sounded like it was from the kitchen. I peered around the corner and saw a man who seemed to be in his 50s stood in the kitchen, leaning on a cane, and dressed in a suit. After a moment or two he walked off through the kitchen door into the hallway.
About 2 years later my younger brother reported seeing someone of similar description walking up the stairs into one of the bedrooms. On top of that, my step brother (Who slept in the room the man walked into) reported seeing the exact same person pacing on the landing. Each time was night, the doors were all shut and no-one recognised this person. To this day my mother still refuses that there are ghosts in this house.

More recent(ish), I have felt the presence and even seen what seems to be some form of potentially harmful spirit in my room for a couple of years. They peer over the edge of my bed at night, watch over my shoulder during the day. He only ever goes into the neighboring rooms though, but it is scary when he watches me bathe...

So we were outside the mausoleum, and the guys decided to go inside because something seems to dislike men. US three girls sat outside on the bench then we heard a knocking coming from inside the walls of the other mausoleums. We went inside the mausoleum the guys were in(glass doors nothing obstructing open and close). We told the what we had heard when we heard a loud bang, as if someone had smacked an open hand on the door, coming from the door we had just come through minutes before. we all jumped and looked towards the door, there was nothing there. We didn't stick around and left as quickly as possible. we looked at the time as we left, it was just entering the witching hour(hours of the night that spirits are most active).

Heheh, yours are all so scary n cool, what can I do but join in? However, the only way my tragi-comedy is scary is in how ridiculous and strange it is. I present to you: Oh Holy Tomato.

You're on a raft, floating down a river. And then! You're on an island. There is no food or drink on this island. But then! A bird flies over the island, but this bird is not just any bird. This bird has a tomato on its back! You run! You jump! You grab the bird! You take the tomato, and let the bird go free. You draw googly eyes and a sharpie mouth on the tomato. You say, "Oh holy tomato, would you like a massage?" The tomato doesn't answer. You say, "Oh holy tomato, would you like a steam bath?" You put it in a pot of boiling water, and the googly eyes and sharpie mouth drip down. You say, "Oh holy tomato, would you like a massage?" You take a hammer, and hold it above the tomato. You sob, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. For the love of pizza!" You smash the tomato, and gather it's innards from where they've squirted like blood. You put it on pizza dough, and put cheese on too. You put it in the oven. Ding! Your pizza is ready. I hope your murder was worth it.

She commandeered the room in the basement of her dorm as soon as she realized she would have to pull an all-nighter in order to prepare for tomorrow’s final exam. Her roommate, Jenna, liked to get to bed early, so she packed up everything she thought she would need and went downstairs to study . . . and study . . . and study some more.
It was two o’clock, when she realized that she’d left one of the textbooks upstairs on her bed. With a dramatic sigh, she rose, and climbed the stairs slowly to her third-floor dorm room.
The lights were dim in the long hallway, and the old boards creaked under her weary tread. She reached her room and turned the handle as softly as she could, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside, so that the hall lights wouldn’t wake her roommate.

The room was filled with a strange, metallic smell. She frowned a bit, her arms breaking out into chills. There was a strange feeling of malice in the room, as if a malevolent gaze were fixed upon her. It was a mind trick; the all-nighter was catching up with her.

She could hear Jenna breathing on the far side of the room—a heavy sound, almost as if she had been running. Jenna must have picked up a cold during the last tense week before finals.

She crept along the wall until she reached her bed, groping among the covers for the stray history textbook. In the silence, she could hear a steady drip-drip-drip sound. She sighed silently. Facilities would have to come to fix the sink in the bathroom…again.

Her fingers closed on the textbook. She picked it up softly and withdrew from the room as silently as she could.

Relieved to be out of the room, she hurried back downstairs, collapsed into an overstuffed chair and studied until six o’clock. She finally decided that enough was enough. If she slipped upstairs now, she could get a couple hours’ sleep before her nine o’clock exam.

The first of the sun’s rays were beaming through the windows as she slowly slid the door open, hoping not to awaken Jenna. Her nose was met by an earthy, metallic smell a second before her eyes registered the scene in her dorm room. Jenna was spread-eagled on top of her bed against the far wall, her throat cut from ear to ear and her nightdress stained with blood. Two drops of blood fell from the saturated blanket with a drip-drip noise that sounded like a leaky faucet.

Scream after scream poured from her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself any more than she could cease wringing her hands. All along the hallway, doors slammed and footsteps came running down the passage.

Within moments other students had gathered in her doorway, and one of her friends gripped her arm with a shaking hand and pointed a trembling finger toward the wall. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. Then she fainted into her friend’s arms.

On the wall above her bed, written in her roommate’s blood, were the words: “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?”