The winners of our Scary Stories contest will leave you sleeping with the lights on for the next week
was a harrowing task. But I was able to narrow down the scariest of the land, and am presenting them to you for consideration, before our final reveal of the scariest story of 2021. Read on if your constitution is strong and jump scares do nothing for you, and as always, good luck.I had a paper route. This was in the mid-1980s. At the time, I was a typical ten-year-old boy living in the suburbs of Cincinnati, Ohio. We lived in a two-story house near the end of a cul-de-sac.
About 8 months into the job, I was out collecting. My canvas delivery bag rested easily enough on my shoulder containing the collected money, the receipt book, and in a side pocket the big bag of green rubber bands. This was a cold bleak wintry day in January. It had snowed recently, maybe 4 or 5 inches or so, and I had gotten a bit of a late start, so that it was already getting dark halfway through the job.
In the room to the left of me, a sitting room of some sort, very very lowly lit, were five or six people, men and women. Middle to old age. Casually well dressed. Blazers, sweaters... Midwest church-going clothes, if you will. All standing a bit apart from each other in the near dark. And that’s when the little voice inside me hit the override button and seized the controls. I spun to open the door and it wouldn’t budge. This door handle was of a particular design, an older design. The handle was perpendicular to the floor and you would grip it reaching out with your hand, then using your thumb to push down a latch-like lever above the handle.
My dad brought home McDonald’s for dinner which he often did. I didn’t say a word to them about anything that had happened. My parents ate in the kitchen, watching the news oror something. I ate alone in the family room. Before bed though, in my room, I noticed my canvas delivery bag that I’d dropped on the floor while changing clothes. Picking it up, I half-heartedly noticed that I was missing the rubber band bag, the receipt pad, and probably about half the money I’d gathered that day.
Through the windows from outside, we’d been able to see a room that looked relatively new, with a clean, shiny coat of periwinkle blue paint on the walls. Yet walking around inside the house we simply couldn’t figure where the room was. There were no doors in the wall that should’ve been shared with it, and when we went outside to look in again, we realized we couldn’t actually see any doors from within the blue room either.
In the front row, there was a girl looking down at her foot which was being stepped on by the girl next to her. The girl next to her? Dark hair, wearing a black dress, and boots.After we moved, I started going back to those buildings to smoke weed, but never went in again. Once I got a cell phone, I noticed there was no service at the bungalow or dorms, and stopped going completely. Years later, my brother went into the house with some friends but now refuses to ever go back either.
One night, while keeping guard out in the yard with all the neighbors, the dogs start furiously barking at the outside walls of Maria’s room. All flashlights get pointed that way, and a thorough search follows, but as usual, there’s nothing. My uncle Justin and dad decide to go check on the women and children, who are inside the house. Maria is in her room and they want to make sure she’s ok. They knock on the door but she’s hesitant to let them in.
People, I tell you true, it happened time and time again. We have had many dogs and any new dog or puppy that came to stay or visit with us reacted the same way on their first night. A whine or a howl, hair standing on end, shivering, and cowering, nose pointed to the door. Once told they were a good dog, it was alright. then given a pat they would woof or bark, wag their tails and settle down.
My parents were the first wave of the new generation of families that came to live in the neighborhood around this time, meaning that nearly all of my neighbors were elderly. This served me quite well as a kid, as my neighbor across the street was an elderly lady who became one of my dearest friends in childhood.
The first night we were there, we had a couple of beers in the backyard and stayed up chatting and joking around. No one was drunk; nothing odd was discussed, just a group of young college girls having fun. We probably went to bed around midnight or 1 am. I went to my room, changed into sleepwear, and went to bed. I lay there, unable to sleep, and not sure why. I never really had any trouble just going right to sleep. But something just felt... off? Present? I don’t know.
I started to think something might be up with her. I’d scream and cry and ask my mom to sleep with me, but she didn’t want to. My father told me the little girl was just a reflection in the window or a figment of my imagination. They both tired of me talking about her. The shadow girl watched me until I was probably 9 or ten years old, then she gradually faded back into the ceiling where she came from and I didn’t think of her for years.
My mother said that back then there had been several nights where she’d walk past my door at night and see this unusually bright light coming from the sides of and beneath my door. For a time she’d thought it was me with my light on reading the American Girl Doll series or something and ignored it, but then when I started talking about the little girl, she’d become more curious. One night, after seeing this light, she’d peered into my room and saw a giant glowing orb floating over my body.
We brushed off her mention of “bad friends” at first, figured she was just being an imaginative child and we didn’t want her to think we believed her excuses.A few months after my oldest turned two, I had another baby girl. My oldest was not thrilled about this top and would avoid her sister often. One day, they were both supposed to be napping in their own rooms when I heard footsteps so I went to check on them.
The whole time we lived there, my oldest had terrible nightmares, she’d wake up screaming and occasionally get out of bed and walk around screaming. We moved when she was 5 and immediately, the night screaming stopped. So did most of the “mischievous” type of behavior. She began sleeping well and now it’s her favorite activity, lol!
About 10 months in I had a random offer to move into my own place, so I put in my notice to move. Things started to feel funky after that, and a general air of upset or anger permeated the apartment when I came home - and I’m not talking about the roommate. Something about the apartment just seemed... angry at me.
Our last night there I woke with a start. It was pitch black in the room. I had drawn the short straw , so I was lying in the top bunk. I thought I heard a sound just outside the window, like the crack of a branch. My heart began to pound, and a paralyzing fear gripped me. I didn’t dare turn to look to identify the source of the sound and just lay there trembling.
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